Leaving Vavòny, where we had our morning repast, between eleven and twelve o’clock, we went on again through the woods along the shores of the lake, which here spreads out into broad sheets of water, two or three miles wide. The scenery was delightful, both shores being thickly wooded, reminding me in some places of the Wye, in others of the lake at Longleat, and in narrow parts of Studley Park. Our road for miles resembled a footpath through a nobleman’s park in England: clumps of trees, shrubberies, and short smooth turf, all united to complete the resemblance. These all seemed more like the work of some expert landscape gardener than merely the natural growth. In some parts, where the more distinctly tropical vegetation—pandanus, cacti and palms—were not seen, the illusion was complete. In many places we saw many sago palms (Cycas thouarsii), a tree much less in height than the majority of the palms and not exceeding twelve or fourteen feet, but with the same long pinnate leaves characteristic of so many of the Palmaceæ.
One of the most conspicuous trees on this coast, especially as seen from the sea, is the Filào (Casuarina equisetifolia), a tall larch or fir-like tree, often called, from the colour of its wood, “the beefwood tree.” Like the firs, its leaves are fine filaments, and the wind passing through these produces a peculiar gentle sighing noise. Very plentiful, too, is a much smaller tree bearing a perfectly globular-shaped fruit as large as a good-sized orange, but having a hard shell which requires a smart blow to crack. It contains a greyish pulp, and a number of large black seeds; and although by no means equal to an orange in taste, its acid flavour was refreshing enough where one was thirsty and heated with the midday sun. A friend of mine remarks: “As they are rather more difficult to eat in a cleanly and dainty fashion than ripe mangoes, we smeared ourselves pretty considerably in the process.” While the pulp is edible, the seeds are poisonous, and we need not wonder at that when we find that the tree is closely allied to the Strychnos nux-vomica. Its native name is Vòavòntaka (Brehmia spinosa); vòa is the general word for “fruit,” and enters into the composition of more than two hundred Malagasy names of trees, plants and fruits. A species of Hibiscus is widely spread along the coast, and yields a valuable fibre. The natives say that its flowers are yellow in the morning and red in the evening. Other noticeable flowering shrubs here are a species of Stephanotis, with lovely large white flowers, and an Ipomæa, which straggles far and wide on the sand of the seashore. Along the sides of the lagoons and marshes in scattered places may be found the curious pitcher-plant (Nepenthes madagascariensis); this is a shrub about four feet high, whose jug-shaped pitchers, four to five inches in length, contain abundant water and numerous insects. Gum-copal is obtained from a tree (Trachylobium verrucosa) growing on this coast; and india-rubber from several plants (Landolphia madagascariensis and L. gummifera), creepers as well as trees.
MOSQUITOES
Notwithstanding the beauty of this part of the country, it is very unhealthy for foreigners. The rivers, as we have seen, all communicate with the lagoons, and during the rainy season great quantities of decaying matter are brought down from the forests. The large extent of marsh and stagnant water in the lakes breed millions of mosquitoes, and so give rise to the dreaded malarial fever. The earlier accounts of the French and Portuguese settlements on the coast of Madagascar represent this as a frightful scourge, sweeping off a large proportion of the soldiers and settlers at their forts. From this, the Isle Ste Marie was called the “Grave of the French,” and “the Churchyard” and “Dead Island” of the Dutch. But the use of quinine and modern precautions against mosquito bites have done much to mitigate the attacks of fever, and since the draining of the marshes near Tamatave the town is said to be fairly healthy.
The Bétsimisàraka inhabitants of this coast are accustomed to place their dead in rude coffins hollowed out of the trunk of a tree and covered with a roof-shaped lid. But these are not buried, but are placed on the ground in little groups, in a sheltered grove of trees. In the case of wealthy people, the coffins are put on a kind of trestle, and sometimes are protected from the rain by having a shed fixed over them. This custom, it may be imagined, is not, for the living, a pleasant mode of disposing of the departed, and the presence of these little cemeteries may often be deduced from the effluvium, even if they are not seen. During the dry season one constantly meets with groups of people carrying up the remains of their relatives, Hova who have died on the coast, in order that they may be buried in their ancestral tombs. Sometimes we have had our midday meal, or have stopped for the night, in houses against whose outer walls these wrapped-up corpses, fastened to long poles for carriage, have been leaning. At one place where we stayed the people were making cakes for the funeral feast, and in pounding the rice for these the women made a special rhythmical beat of their pestles on the top of the rice mortar, as well as on the meal in the hollow of the mortar.
SNAKES
But to return to our journey. At about two o’clock we had to cross the lake, but as there was only one small canoe, it took more than two hours to get all our baggage and men over. We therefore strolled into the woods, finding plenty to interest us in examining the orchids, ferns, and other plants, most of them new to me. We captured a new and splendid spider, new to my companion, who had made entomology his special study. We were amused by the little land-crabs, with their curious stalked eyes, folding down into a case, when not raised to look about them. There were also many beautifully marked lizards, as well as other interesting living creatures in these tropical woods. The ferry was close to a village bearing the name of Andàvaka-mènaràna—that is, “hole of serpents.” Notwithstanding this ominous appellation, we were not startled from our path by even a solitary reptile, although a cave not far distant is said to be a lurking-place for numbers of these creatures. But on a subsequent journey along this coast I saw a large and handsome brown serpent on the grass close to the path. I got down, not to kill it, but to examine its beautiful markings and graceful movements; but on getting near it, which was not easy to do, as its movements were so rapid, it turned and faced me in a menacing fashion. Happily, although there are many species of serpents in Madagascar, not one is a venomous kind—that is, their bite is not fatal. At the same time there are some kinds which will bite severely if attacked. Later on, I saw another much smaller snake, of a bright green colour, on the trunk of a tree; doubtless its tints were protective. The larger one I saw is called Màndotra, and was from three to four feet long; another species found on the coast is called Màntangòra, and is a foot or more longer.
A BOA
While on the subject of serpents, I will add here some particulars my friend, Mr Houlder, gives of yet another of these reptiles seen on this east coast, but farther north. This kind is called Akòma (Pelophilus madagascariensis), and appears to be a species of boa, killing fowls, rats and other creatures first by crushing them, and then covering them with saliva before swallowing. At a village he stayed in, my friend found the people much excited about a large serpent seen in their neighbourhood. Sending out his men to find it, “at last the creature was seen. Yes, there he was, a villainous-looking monster, apparently asleep, coiled up among the bushes with his great flat head in the middle of the circle. The gun was loaded with several pistol bullets. Luckily it was, perhaps, for the duck-shot sent into him at the next discharge only just penetrated his thick scaly skin. Advancing to within a couple of yards or so, I raised the gun. Bang! Away went the onlookers for their lives. Peering through the smoke which was slowly moving away, I could just see the head coming towards me. Enough, I bolted too. This caused a second stampede. But it was a groundless alarm. I looked back, and saw that the poor creature was incapable of doing serious injury. His back was hopelessly broken. No other shot was necessary.” Mr Houlder did not get the serpent to his house without difficulty, owing to the terror of the bearers even when it was dead. “It was a medium-sized specimen, about nine feet long and as thick round the middle as the calf of a man’s leg. On each side of its body was a long yellow, black, and reddish chain-like marking on a brown ground; and near the extremity of its tail were two abortive claws. Muscular motion did not cease until long after it was dead.”
LEMURS