On the 4th of August, we anchored in a fine deep bay, formed by the islands just mentioned.

We availed ourselves of the necessary delay of the vessel at this place, to make daily excursions to the surrounding islands.

The name Sechang is properly applicable only to the principal island of the group; the next in point of size, about a mile distant to the W., is called Ko-kan. The other islands are of trifling extent; some of them, like the large ones, are covered with rather stunted wood, and others are merely bare rocks, appearing above water. The two larger islands bear marks of a considerable extent of former cultivation, and on both, a few miserable looking inhabitants are still to be found. The quantity of level ground is too scanty to maintain a population of any extent, and the few persons we found here, had been compelled by the King of Siam to live on the spot. It is difficult to conceive any other motive for this species of banishment, than political ambition; for such islands must be totally unproductive to the government. It should at the same time be acknowledged, that nothing is expended in their occupation. Though by their own account compelled to adopt this residence, the few people whom we found here, in appearance, at least, abundantly miserable, seemed to attach no particular hardship to their lot.

Upon a small sandy beach, at the northern extremity of Ko-kan, are twelve small huts, with two apartments in each, constructed of palm-leaves, which the occupiers must have carried with them from the inhabited parts of the continent. Of these huts, some were now empty, but a part of the population, consisting of two or three old women, as many old men, and a considerable number of sickly children, came out to meet us on our landing. Premature old age had seized upon those that had grown up, whether from the scantiness of their food, its inferior quality, or uncertain supply, or from cares inseparable from this rude condition of society, is perhaps doubtful. Their shrivelled limbs, their wrinkled and contracted features, their half-famished forms, their scanty dress, bespoke a people supremely wretched; yet their wants were but few, nor did they importune us for the gratification of them. The men that were present were reserved, if not sullen, and viewed us with little interest, or perhaps with suspicion. The women, on the contrary, were evidently pleased at our approach, and gave every demonstration that our visit was welcome to them. Here, where we might have expected selfishness in the most exclusive degree, we were delighted to witness nothing but the most disinterested kindness. A plantain, a yam, and a few pepper-corns, reared by their own hands, were, in their eyes, commodities of the highest value,—yet these, though they had but a scanty supply of them, were instantly produced, and we were eagerly solicited to take them with us. They neither asked for, nor expected any thing in return, and they seemed surprised, as well as delighted, when on a subsequent visit Mr. Crawfurd made them presents of cloth.

Fish forms the principal article of their food, and the surrounding seas afford an abundant supply; but such is the poverty, or want of energy or ingenuity in these poor creatures, that they are often very ill-supplied from this quarter.

These poor people had laid at our feet all that was valuable in their eyes. They gained confidence during our visit, and all of them became more familiar. Mrs. Crawfurd had accompanied us to the village, and her presence conferred a degree of interest upon the scene not easy to be described. The men, stupid with wonder, seemed to look upon her as a being of another creation; and indeed, if we cast our eyes upon the contrast in the female forms now before us, their wonder will not appear surprising, and these rude and wretched savages might well doubt that they had but little connexion with our race. Never, perhaps, was savage life more strikingly contrasted with refined; an accomplished female, brought up in all the elegance and refinement of the first metropolis in the world, stood opposed to the rude, scarce human forms of the savage islanders of the Gulf of Siam!

With more confidence, but with no less surprise and wonder, the women and children seemed anxious to approach a form which was eminently pleasing to them, but were withheld by a sort of awe. Such a scene were worthy of the painter’s skill.

We now ascended a neighbouring hill, on which were cultivated the Dioscorea alata, Convolvulus Batatus, Zea Mays, and Capsicum. The energy of vegetation in the Dioscorea seemed to have been too great for the moderate share of industry exerted by the natives in their rude agriculture. This luxuriant plant had spread over all the cleared ground, choking every plant near it, and obstructing even its own growth by the over-abundant production of stem. We have observed this tendency in the same plant, on the opposite island. Yet it is not to be found in the forest, nor of indigenous growth. I have never seen it but in spots that have once been cultivated, nor have I observed solitary plants of it. Other species of this genus are common in the forest, and are in general solitary.

It is deserving of remark in this place, that we found on the various islands which form this bay, and particularly upon the lesser ones, a considerable number of plants, whose economy bears a striking analogy to that of Dioscorea; like that useful plant, too, they belong to the natural order Asparagi, of Jussieu. They are all creeping plants, elegant in their form, producing abundance of fine foliage, ascending to the tops of the tallest trees, often covering them, as it were, with a mantle. The most extraordinary of these is a plant bearing affinity both to Dioscorea and to Menispermum, but differing from both in some essential generic characters. The great beauty of the creeping stem, suspended in elegant festoons from the branches of the surrounding trees, were sufficient to attract attention. But the most singular property of this herbaceous plant is the disposition which it has of forming tuberous roots of a most extraordinary size, a circumstance the more singular, because, independent of the small size of its stem, scarcely larger than a quill, it is found growing in the most arid and steril situations, without a particle of earth to conceal its roots; neither are its leaves succulent, nor its stem nor root of a texture apparently fitted to convey a large proportion of vegetable juice, both being rather hard and fibrous. The singular tuberosity of this plant is formed at the exit of the root from the rock or surrounding stones, and is, in general, buried about one-fourth under the surface. The part exposed is globular, of a dirty-white colour, warty, and internally the yam is tough and fibrous rather than spongy. One brought on board, on account of its size, weighed 474 lb., and measured 9½ feet in circumference; others, of still greater size, were not uncommon. It will be conceived, that such vast masses of vegetable matter are but little adapted to become the food of man; it is, however, not altogether neglected for that use, though but rarely had recourse to. For this purpose, the farinaceous matter is separated from the juice, vegetable fibre, and other products, by drying, maceration, &c. The root is also used in medicine.

Of all the tuberous roots this would appear to be by far the largest and most extraordinary. In other plants of the kind, the tuberosities are proportionate to the size of the plants, and their visible means of nourishment. In this, the yam is of the most gigantic size, and its stem extremely small. The means of nourishment are by no means apparent. Earth and water, the ordinary sources of vegetable nutriment, are almost altogether wanting; the stem is not of a structure to require any thing but simple support from the surrounding trees. There remains no visible source but the atmosphere, to which its numerous leaves are amply exposed, through the aid of the surrounding trees.