The bay of Bencoolen is extensive, and so much exposed that, when the sea-breeze commences, it throws in a heavy sea, and renders it impossible to carry off sufficient water for a large number of hands without causing a long delay. Owing to this cause, we were unable readily to obtain the required supply of water; and yams and bread-fruit being scarce, both of which we much needed, we took our departure, leaving instructions for the “Boxer” to follow us to Manila.
DEATH OF THE RESIDENT.
Having taken leave of the very kind and hospitable Mr. Knoerle, the resident, and of his companion, the Rev. W. C. Slingerland Conradi, pastor of the Dutch Church, I shortly found myself once more on board. I have lately received the afflicting intelligence that Mr. Knoerle, while on a journey to Palembang, was murdered at the instigation of some of the principal rajahs of Bencoolen. His body was literally cut in pieces, and then burnt with great exultation, by the perpetrators and their friends. The question naturally occurs, what could have incited the rajahs to commit so atrocious and fiend-like an act? The answer is—revenge, which is always deeply seated in the heart of a Malay.
Mr. Knoerle, imprudently, injured the happiness of many families by his unrestrained passions, and thereby sealed his horrid fate. He should ever have borne in mind that he lived among
“Souls made of fire, and children of the sun,
With whom revenge is virtue.”
CHAPTER III.
SAILING FROM BENCOOLEN—ARRIVAL AT CROKATOA AND FORSAKEN ISLANDS—SCENERY—BEAUTIFUL SUBMARINE GARDEN—BRITISH FRIGATE—ARRIVAL AT ANGIER—SAILING FROM ANGIER—BAY AND CITY OF MANILA—BUILDINGS—POPULATION—PROVISIONS—LABOUR.
On the last day of August, we weighed anchor at nine o’clock in the evening, from Bencoolen bay, and aided by the current and a land breeze, about midnight we once more found ourselves at sea. Owing to light head-winds from the southeast, calms, contrary winds, and violent squalls from the high mountains of Sumatra, accompanied with thunder and lightning, we did not arrive at our anchorage ground, off the north end of the island of Crokatoa, in the straits of Sunda, until the eighth day after our departure from the bay.
At daybreak the following morning, a boat was despatched in search of inhabitants, fresh water, and yams; but, after three or four hours’ search, returned unsuccessful. Two other boats were then sent under the command of the first lieutenant Mr. Cunningham: after a fruitless search, that officer returned at sunset, after visiting Long Island and Crokatoa. It was found difficult to effect a landing any where, owing to a heavy surf and to the coral having extended itself to a considerable distance from the shore. Hot springs only were found on the eastern side of the latter island, one hundred and fifty feet from the shore, boiling furiously up, through many fathoms of water. Early on the succeeding morning, Capt. Geissinger, Lieutenant Fowler of the marines, and myself, left the ship, on a visit to Forsaken island: we flattered ourselves, as we approached the island, that the grateful sound of many a murmuring rill, trickling down its steep and woody sides, was heard by us—but we also were doomed to disappointment; for, on landing, the sound was found to proceed from the singing of locusts, which had obtained undisturbed possession of the island, and were making sad ravages among the tender herbage. “No human footsteps marked the trackless sand.”