Saturday, August 13.—Woke just at daybreak. When I looked through the porthole I found that this harbour of Mourillyan where we were lying was one of the most picturesque I had ever seen. It is entirely land-locked, except for the narrow passage through which we entered last night. Both vegetation and landscape looked thoroughly tropical, and two or three bungalows were perched amid the dense foliage on the steep banks of the rising hillsides.
Zamoa Tree
We were ready before our kind hosts, and it was quite eleven o'clock before we landed and established ourselves in the steam-tram, ready for a journey to the Mourillyan sugar-plantation. My long deck-chair having been placed most comfortably in a sugar-truck, my journey was luxuriously and easily performed, though, after the perfectly quiet, smooth movement of the last few days, I rather felt the occasional jolts and jars. I have travelled through tropical jungles in all parts of the world, and though the scenery to-day was wanting in the grandeur of the virgin forests of Brazil, and of the tangled masses of vegetation of Borneo and the Straits Settlements, it had much special beauty of its own. The variety of foliage was a striking contrast to the monotonous verdure often seen in Australia. Some of the palms and ferns were extremely beautiful, and so well grown that each might have been a specimen plant in a greenhouse. What I call the umbrella palm, but what they call here the cabbage palm—a sort of Zamia alsophila—grew abundantly in groups. Wherever there was a clearing we could see high trees, some with their bare white stems rising to nearly a hundred feet before they branched out, while others were completely covered, and almost killed, by masses of creepers whose leaves, of every kind and shape—some large and broad like the Aristolochias; others quite finely cut like Logodiums; others sharp, pointed, and shiny; others again palmated—and of every shade of green, gave a fine effect to the different peeps and vistas as we glided along. Presently the clearings became more numerous, and we passed a deserted village, surrounded by gardens, where some Chinese had settled a few years ago and tried to make a living by supplying ships with vegetables. They did not find the venture successful, and have left the district. We passed several small tramways running at right angles into the bush, with little huts adjoining, built of rushes and thatched with sugar-cane. In these the men lived when sent down to cut timber for the fences, furnaces, and sleepers for the tramway, as it was pushed further and further up through the jungle. 'Sugar is a very expensive crop to start, for the work of clearing the jungle is most laborious, and therefore costly. The expense of cutting down timber for the first rough cropping is 10l. per acre. The complete clearing and grubbing of roots for the purposes of ploughing and permanent cultivation is not less than 20l. an acre. The cost of clearing alone is thus 30l. an acre. The machinery of the mills, of Scotch manufacture, cost more than 60,000l. Some 900 acres have been brought under cultivation. The total capital already expended may be taken at 200,000l. The yield of sugar is from three to five tons per acre. The price may be taken at 20l. per ton. The production of sugar last year was 2,050 tons.'
'The successful results of labour imported from Java are a special feature at Mourillyan. We heard an excellent character of the Javanese workpeople. They are sturdy, and most docile. They are imported for a term of three years, under strict engagements with the Dutch Government. An advance of two to three pounds is given to each workman before he leaves home. His fare costs 6l. to Queensland. His wages are 30s. a month and found. The secret of success has been the adoption of a system of supervision by Javanese sarongs. Javanese are employed to drive locomotives, and for the management of the boilers and most of the machinery in the mills.'
The proprietors of the plantation have 5,000 acres cleared already, and will clear more as soon as they can raise sufficient capital. They have already invested 250,000l. in the land, 20,000l. in the tram, and 40,000l. in the mills, independent of the money they will require for all sorts of contemplated improvements and additions. The process of crushing is just the same as we saw in Trinidad. The carts bring in the cane from the field, and it is passed through a series of rollers to extract the juice, which is pumped up to a higher floor, where it is received into vats, and then by different processes converted into sugar of three kinds—white, medium white, and light brown. The first-quality sugar is made white by being subjected to a process of sulphur fumes, which produce beautiful glittering crystals. It is said that this method of treating the sugar is not so satisfactory as the old and rougher process. It seems to bleach the crystallised particles without sufficiently removing the impurities. The quality of the sugar is, however, excellent, and it commands a high price in England.
From the mill I was carried through a clean and tidy-looking coolie village to a comfortable house of the bungalow type, like those in Mourillyan Harbour, inhabited by Mr. Nash, the proprietor of one of the plantations, and Mr. Levinge, who had kindly arranged a luncheon for us. Australian colonists are the most hospitable people in the world. Their one idea seems to be to endeavour to do everything they can for you, to give you the best of everything they possess. Nowhere, in all our far-extending travels, have we received more true hospitality. I had a comfortable sofa provided for me, whereon I lay during lunch, and afterwards I rested in a chair in the verandah while the others went to see more of the sugar plantation and mill.
About three o'clock we started back, and returned much quicker than we came up, for which I was very thankful. Pleasant as the day had been I was getting rather worn out. On our return to Mourillyan our hospitable hosts accompanied us on board, and made an inspection of the 'Sunbeam.' They could not stop long, as our Jersey pilot said we had better be off before dark, the entrance to the harbour being very narrow. It is, however, so well buoyed that when the new chart is published there will be no difficulty in getting in or out at any time of the day or night, with or without a pilot. In the night there are two leading lights which show you the direct way in, the only danger being at spring tides, when the tide sometimes runs eight or nine knots an hour. The harbour looked lovely as we steamed away, and we were quite sorry to leave the little haven of rest where we had spent such a peaceful, comfortable day and night.