On the morning of the 13th of December Mount Klabat, a conical volcanic mountain attaining an elevation of six thousand five hundred feet, appeared on the horizon; and soon after, north of Klabat, was seen Mount Sudara, “The Sisters,” a twin cone whose highest peak is about four thousand four hundred feet above the sea. North of this again is Batu angus, two thousand three hundred feet in height. Its name in Malay means “the hot rock,” but it is really a large volcano, whose top has been blown off and a great crater thus formed; and this shows the fearful fate that awaits each of the other two cones, as soon as the gases pent up beneath their mighty masses have acquired the necessary power. We now approached Limbi, a high, uninhabited island with abrupt shores extending in a northwest and southeast direction, and soon after came to anchor in the road off Kema, the coast here curving inward so as to form a small bay. This is the port used now in the western monsoon. During the eastern monsoon, steamers and ships go round the northern end of Celebes to Menado, in the Strait of Macassar. Kema is a village of two thousand inhabitants. Its streets are very broad, and cross each other at right angles. The houses are well built, and placed on piles twelve or eighteen inches in diameter and six feet high—a remnant of the old custom of placing their huts on high posts to avoid attacks of enemies, which was practised by these people previous to the arrival of Europeans. It is certainly a good custom, not only because all such unwelcome intruders as the large snakes, which are very numerous here, are thus avoided, but also to keep the house dry and cool, by allowing a free circulation of air beneath. Each house has a small plot of ground, and this is separated from that of its neighbor by hedges, which also border the streets, and give the whole village a charming air compared to the irregular, unsightly appearance of those I had been visiting. Most of the streets are also lined with shade-trees, and in the gardens, behind the hedges, are rows of orange-trees, some of their branches bearing flowers, some green fruit, and some drooping under the abundance of their golden-yellow loads.
The controleur here kindly received me into his house. He was just going to Limbi, an island five or six miles north of Kema, to try to take some living babirusa for the governor-general’s garden at Buitenzorg, back of Batavia. That was exactly such an excursion as suited my fancy, and I was very willing to accept his invitation to join him before I began a journey I had been planning over to Menado, and thence up into the interior. While we were preparing for our excursion, another gentleman, Mr. K., decided to join us.
December 20th.—A bright, clear day, and just suitable for starting on our hunt. We have a ship’s long-boat and a small prau, both containing about twenty natives, and a large pack of dogs to start up the game. The controleur is the captain of our boat, and an old, gray Malay, who has been a seaman and a whaler for most of his days, is the coxswain of the other, and pilot for both. For ballast we have a full load of rice, our two boats carrying only half the whole party, the other portion—twenty-five natives and half as many dogs—went yesterday, under the charge of the second native chief of the village, who rejoices in the euphonious title of Hukom kadua, but the Dutch call him the “Second Head.” From Kema up to the strait, between Limbi and Celebes, we had a light air off the shore. A thin cloud, like a veil of gauze, gathered on the heads of the twin-peaks known as “The Sisters,” and fell down in rich graceful folds over their green shoulders. From the crests of all these peaks, down to the high-water line on the shore, is one dense, unbroken forest. There dwells the sapi utung or “wild ox,” probably not indigenous, but descended from the tame sapi introduced from Java and Madura. The natives describe them as being exceedingly fierce, both the cows and the bulls. Here that peculiar antelope, the Anoa depressicornis, H. Smith, abounds. In these same dense, undisturbed forests the babirusa (Babirusa alfurus, Less.) is found in large numbers; and a species of Sus, much like the lean hog that lives in the forests of our Southern States, is very abundant. As soon as we entered the strait we found a strong current against us, and landed on the south side in a small bay to take our lunch. Again we rowed and beat until we came to the narrowest part of the strait, where high, perpendicular walls of rock rise on either hand. The tide which sets toward the east, that is before the wind, now changed, and away we shot between the overhanging crags with the speed of an arrow. Outside of these narrows the shores open on both sides, so that almost at once we were exposed to the full strength of the stormy monsoon. The strong tide running against the wind rolled up a high, irregular sea; in fact, the ocean seemed to boil. “Have you any idea that we can land on that exposed shore in the midst of such a surf?” I asked the controleur. “Well, it is getting dreadfully rough,” was his indefinite reply. The old Malay pilot, who had kept his boat ahead, now stood up, and seeing the combing waves, into which the strong current was rapidly driving us, shouted out to the controleur, “Dra bisa Tuan!” “It is impossible, sir! It is impossible, sir!” Instantly we tacked and stood over toward the Celebes side, and, under the guidance of the old whaler, soon entered a small, well-sheltered bay. Near its middle part the island of Limbi is very narrow, and across that place had been stretched a series of strong nets made of rope a quarter of an inch in diameter, the meshes being about six inches square. Our plan was to commence driving at the northern end of the island and force the wild babirusas into this trap; but it was already quite dark, and the place where the hukom had landed was a long way to windward, and we therefore concluded to camp here to-night. For a tent we cut poles from the neighboring bunches of bamboo and covered them with the boat’s sail and an old tarpaulin. Our friend K., who was extremely careful not to boast of being a good sailor, became exceedingly frightened while we were in the midst of the combing waves, and asked me, half a dozen times during the evening, if the tide would not rise so high as to wash us off this steep shore before morning, but I tried to quiet his nerves by assuring him that such a thing could not happen unless the earth should sink, a very possible thing now that I come to think of it, for that very beach was composed of black volcanic sand, and we were almost beneath a cone, which rose on the flanks of Batu angus, and had been formed so recently that even the luxuriant vegetation of these tropics had not yet had time to gain a footing on its dark sides. In order to get a partial shelter from the heavy showers we expected before morning, we pitched our camp beneath the sturdy branches of an old tree. There we slept while the wind, in heavy gusts, sighed through the dense foliage over our heads, and at our feet rose the heavy, pulsating roar of the ocean-surf.
December 21st.—After passing a comfortable night, notwithstanding the fears of our companion that we should awake before morning, and find ourselves in the midst of the sea, we again attempted to reach the northern end of Limbi, but, as soon as we got out of the bay, we struck into such a heavy sea that our men could not take us to windward, and were therefore obliged to put back once more. This time, to vary the scenery, we passed through the narrows, and encamped on a charming little beach on the island side of the strait, between two high, precipitous crags. Our first care was, of course, to construct a tent, a work soon finished by our large crew. At 11 A. M. we all felt a heavy earthquake-shock, which lasted, apparently, thirty seconds; but these are frequent phenomena in this part of Celebes. On the 25th of last month, not four weeks ago, there was a very heavy earthquake over the whole Minahassa. At Kema we could still see great rents in the ground, three or four inches wide, which could be traced for several rods. The shock was so severe that nearly every article of glass or earthen-ware in the controleur’s house was broken into fragments. Indeed, as I look up now toward the west, I do not wonder the earth heaves beneath us like a troubled sea; for there rises the old volcano known in olden times as Mount Tonkoko. It has a great yawning crater, six hundred feet deep, out of which are rising thick, white clouds of gas. On the northwest side a deep ravine cuts through its flanks, and opens out into the crater. Farther down this same side is the new cone, beneath which we pitched our camp last night. In 1806 a great eruption began in this old volcano, and ashes, sand, and pumice-stone were thrown out in great quantities. At Ayar-madidi the ashes were fine and of a gray color, and covered the ground with a layer an inch thick. For two days the heavens were darkened by the great quantity of these light materials floating in the air. So many stones were ejected, that at a distance of nearly three miles a new cone was formed, from which a long tongue of land stretched itself into the sea. This point the natives called Batu angus, “the Hot Rock,” and since that time the whole volcano has been known by that name. Some of the pumice-stones were said to have been as large as the native huts, but so changed into a kind of foam by the action of heat, that they readily floated on the sea.
Soon after sunset I went out to fish in a small canoe with the controleur and his old pilot. The place we chose was under a high, perpendicular precipice that rose up out of the dark water like an artificial wall. Here we remained while the rocks grew higher and higher and more and more overhanging as the daylight faded, and the approaching night blended the sharp outlines and increased the magnitude of every object around us. Near by was a deep ravine, and from its farthermost recesses rolled out the reverberating, moaning cries of monkeys, who all night long keep up a piteous calling, each answering his fellow in the same mournful tones.
Our lines were just about as large as a mackerel-line. The hooks each native makes for himself, from brass wire, and about a fathom of wire is attached to each hook before the line is fastened to it, in order to prevent the fish from severing the cord with their sharp teeth. For bait, small fish are taken. In fishing at anchor, no leads are used, but, instead of them, a kind of sling of palm-leaf is fastened to each hook. This sling contains a small stone, so fixed that it will carry down the line, but drop out as soon as it touches the bottom. After we had obtained a good supply of fine fish, we slowly passed along the high, well-sheltered shore, while the heavy wind sighed through the lofty branches over our heads. Now a gleam of light comes over the dark water, just beyond that high bluff; we are near the camp, and in a few moments stand again on the beach. This day is done, and yet the storm continues, but we hope we may be more favored to-morrow.
December 22d.—Last night I soon fell asleep after such vigorous use of the paddle, though the storm wailed, and my couch was any thing but a bed of down. At midnight a troubled dream disturbed my brain. An indefinite horror thrilled along my veins as I fancied for a moment that I was whirling round such a deep yawning maelstrom as Poe has pictured, and then literally “a change came o’er the spirit of my dream,” but scarcely a change for the better, for I was fixed in the midst of a water-spout, and, in my struggles to escape, awoke and found a great stream of water pouring down on me from the tarpaulin that formed the roof of our tent. A heavy shower had come on, and the water was all running into a depression in the sail over me, in which, of course, there was a hole, so that the whole formed one big tunnel. Of course, both K. and the controleur enjoyed my discomfiture greatly, but I consoled myself with the thought that long before daylight they would find themselves in the same plight; and the next morning, apparently, the thing that was farthest from their thoughts was to inquire of me in regard to the water-spout.
That portion of the party that had left Kema in advance of us had taken little rice. The controleur, therefore, thought we must make a third attempt to reach the northern end of the island, notwithstanding K.’s earnest entreaties to be only taken back to Kema once more. We had not reached the narrows, however, before we met the hukom with all his men and dogs. They had found the surf so high that the only way most of his men had been able to reach their boats, was to run down the steep rocks and plunge head foremost into the combing waves. We now landed a few natives to scour the woods, and finally come to the southern end of the island, while we went round in the boats. In order to make their way through the dense forest, instead of putting on more clothing as a protection against the sticks and stones and thorny vines, they stripped off what little they wore, except a narrow band over the loins. At the southern end of the island was a small, deep bay, and here we encamped for the third time. Soon the natives came in, but they had secured only two wild hogs. I preserved the skull of one, a female, in which the canine teeth were not as long as those of a male. The hukom declared that in the babirusa only the males have the long curved teeth, which the Malays have fancied resemble the antlers of a deer. While waiting for us, he had been hunting in the vicinity of his camp, and had taken one female by driving her to the end of a high point. As soon as she saw there was no chance for her to escape, she leaped down the precipice and was killed by the fall. Such suicide, he says, is frequently resorted to by that animal when it finds it can retreat no farther. The wild hogs plunge into the water to avoid the dogs, and the natives then pursue them in boats and kill them with spears. As soon as the hunters return to camp, they cut up the hogs, and smoke the pieces over a smouldering fire. The dogs now skulk about to seize a piece if possible, and while the natives are crouching round the fire transforming the lean pork into tough bacon, you are frequently startled by a sharp yelping as some one finds his portion disappearing beneath the jaws of one of these hungry brutes, and a liberal chastisement is at once administered to the thief with the first stick or club at hand.
December 23d.—Last night there was another heavy shower. The water poured down in torrents through our thatching of palm-leaves, for we had already found that both the boat’s sail and the old tarpaulin afforded little protection here where the water appears to fall in broad sheets. Late in the evening the controleur came back from fishing. We could hear the Malays that were pulling his boat singing in an unusually loud and merry style, and all gathered on the beach to see what wonderful monster of the deep they had secured. It proved to be a fish as large as a horse-mackerel, and weighing fully two hundred pounds, which the controleur had succeeded in taking with a small line by chancing to get it alongside the boat and securing it by gaffs. As our stock of rice was getting low, we decided to return, though I could scarcely feel satisfied, for I had hoped to get a complete skeleton of the rare babirusa; however, the controleur more than made up the loss by giving me half a dozen skulls of the equally rare antelope of this region. We now crossed over to the Celebes side to a village of four or five huts, to be sheltered from the heavy rains that have drenched us every night but one since we left Kema. A few natives have moved here from Kema because they take many fish off this part of the coast, and there is a small stream emptying into the sea in the vicinity. They live almost wholly by fishing, and have cleared only a small place near their houses for a garden of Indian corn. This evening they have shown me one of the monsters of these forests. It was an enormous python. Its head has been taken off, but by careful measurement I find it must have been at least fifteen feet long. It was killed here the day before yesterday by one of the natives living in the house where we are now sheltered from the rain. Missing his dog, he chanced to go to the brook where they get water, and there he found this monstrous reptile trying to swallow his favorite. As quietly as possible he stole back to the village and gave the alarm, and at once all went out and succeeded in cutting off its head before it could disgorge its prey and attack them. The natives are now taking off the skin to make rude moccasins, which they frequently use when hunting in the woods, or more especially when travelling through the tall, sharp-edged prairie-grass. They all agree that this tough, scaly skin is much more durable for such a purpose than the best kind of leather. Our old boatman tells me that he once killed one of those great reptiles on Limbi, while it was trying to swallow a wild pig. All the natives assert that this monster sometimes attacks the wild ox, sapi utung, though none of them have ever seen such a dreadful combat. The controleur states to me that when he was stationed at Bachian, near the southern end of Gilolo, he was once out hunting deer, at a place called Patola, with a large party of natives. They had succeeded in starting up several, and he himself saw one of them pass under a tree and at the same instant a great snake came down from one of the lower limbs and caught the flying deer with his jaws. Unfolding his tail from the limb, he instantly wound round his victim, crushing its bones as if they were straw. An alarm was given, and the natives gathered with their spears and killed the great reptile on the spot. It was not as large round as this one, but longer. Many of our men tell me that they once assisted in killing a larger snake than this at the bathing-place back of Kema. It had seized a hog, whose squealing soon gave all the inhabitants a warning of what had happened. They also say (and this remarkable story has since been repeated to me by several other persons at Kema) that a few years ago a native boy went out as usual to work in his ladang, or garden, some distance from the village. At night he did not return, and the next morning a native chanced to pass the garden and saw one of these great monsters trying to swallow the boy head first, having already crushed the bones of its victim. He at once returned to the village, and a large party of natives went out and found the snake and its prey exactly as had been reported, and immediately killed it with such weapons as they had, and gave the body of their young friend a decent burial. While they were telling me these stories I thought of the danger to which I must often have been unconsciously exposed while wandering mile after mile through the jungles on Buru, never suspecting that, before I left the archipelago, I myself should be forced into a dreadful combat with one of these monsters, and in such a place that one or the other must die on the spot.