He pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which Mr. A.R. Wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. The fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man's head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. Only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. There are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside.
There is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! Says one—writing of the sixteenth century—"It is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world." Another writes: "This fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." Wallace himself says of it: "When brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. This was my own case in Malacca, but in Borneo I found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, I at once became a confirmed Durian-eater!"
This was exactly the experience of Nigel Roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. It happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. Verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side—for there was a strong mutual affection between them. The Dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders.
Suddenly Nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. It was a ripe Durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth.
"Zank Got, you have escaped!" exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance.
"I have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow," said Nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow.
"Come—come avay. My boy vill bring it. Men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. Here now ve vill dine."
They sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. While the boy was arranging their meal, Verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and applying it with an unusually strong hand to the Durian laid it open. Nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. He tasted—and, like Mr. Wallace, "became a confirmed Durian eater" from that day.
"Ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee booterflies," said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon.
"I hope we shall be successful," said Nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled Durian cream. "To judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, I should think a blow on one's head from it would be fatal."