Passed Basilan, leaving the gunboats much astern, and reached Samboañgan. It appeared, of course, much the same, except that a hurricane had lately swept over the town, bringing down the church, thirty houses, and casting on shore four vessels, one of which remained there. From what we heard, several instances of piracy had lately occurred, but the particulars we expected to learn from the Governor.
After dinner we landed, and took a walk. The open rice grounds, the groves of palms, the herds of buffaloes, the cows, the ponies, the regular roads, the stone bridges all showed that we were at a place where Europeans had for some time governed. Everything was much the same as when we left, even the hospitality, or rather conviviality, of the corner shop.
The day we arrived the priests baptized some natives, among whom were many children of the pirates and many of their little slaves, all captured during the last great expedition.
Walked out on the western road, and found it quite animated with crowds of people who were taking their Sunday’s amusement: dancing in booths and houses, collecting in groups chatting and laughing, playing the guitar and the flute; in fact, giving themselves up to enjoyment. In the evening we went to the Governor’s, and he took us to the Lieutenant-Governor’s. All spoke Spanish but himself, and he acted as interpreter.
A day in the country. The Governor asked us to breakfast at the government country-house. Some of us started at half-past six, and walked sharply out. On either side of us were rice fields, in which were grazing in the stubble a great many ponies, and bullocks, and buffaloes. The whole country exhibits different features from any other place I have seen in the East; it is much more European. I found, at a little distance from the town, almost every person’s possession regularly fenced in, and to each house a little enclosed garden, though rather slovenly kept, still exhibiting signs of superior cultivation. At the back of the government house are the grounds, which are kept in order by the soldiers. They produce sufficient vegetables for the consumption of 350 men: potatoes, yams, sweet potatoes, beans, cabbages, onions, and garlic.
Passing the government house, we came to a stone bridge crossing a beautiful, clear river, bubbling and rushing over a sandy, pebbly bed. The banks are high, and the bridge is strong, to meet the immense rush of water which comes down in the rainy season. We wandered about till past nine—my companion sketching and I lazily taking a delicious bath in pure cold water, that made me feel as fresh as ever; and with an appetite sufficient to do justice to the very admirable and substantial breakfast set before us, of fish, beef, a magnificent ham dressed in a most inviting manner, good bread, curries, and a variety of little dishes, with coffee, wine (Spanish and French), and very excellent water. Nothing is more tranquillizing than a satisfactory breakfast. There is a species of yam at Samboañgan, which we were told by one of the officers occasionally weighs above a hundred and thirty pounds. After breakfast I strolled about, forded the river, and looked into every nook and corner, finding pretty cottages and gardens amid the clumps of graceful bamboos.
In the afternoon we made a cut across the country to the western road, and, following that, arrived at length at another river. The whole of the landscape was very picturesque. We spent our last day at Samboañgan in a long walk to the westward, for above three miles, until we arrived at some extensive downs that border the sea, and strolled for hours over them, admiring the beautiful swell of the land, and the purling streams that flowed over their pebbly beds. The day before we started the Governor and principal officers dined on board.
From what I have seen of the people of Samboañgan, I should say they are contented and happy, well fed, and lightly taxed. They all look plump, even the very old exhibited none of that ugliness so conspicuous among the aged Malays. The children, particularly the girls, have pleasant, pretty faces, with an intelligent, confiding expression; the little ones, both girls and boys, were familiar and full of fun. There are apparently a great many schools: all the boys we met in the afternoon appeared to be returning with their satchels hanging at their sides. One I examined possessed a miscellaneous collection of lives of saints, crumpled paper, and fruit. The men have by no means a pleasant expression, but are a well-made, able-bodied race. The Governor told us he established one village in the mountains for the protection of the wood-cutters, another on the coast for that of the fishermen.
Before leaving the subject of these lovely islands, I will relate the story of the loss and recovery of the English schooner Dolphin, as showing to what kind of hazards traders are exposed in these peaceful-looking seas.
I was visiting the northern coasts in the Pluto steamer in November, 1851, and had just cast anchor in Maludu Bay, when I heard the particulars of a frightful tragedy. Sherif Hasan came on board; Hasan is the son of the Sherif Usman I have before mentioned. He came down to the cabin with a sorrowful countenance, and when I inquired the news, he answered, “very dreadful.” I soon learnt from him that the English schooner Dolphin, from Labuan, had been cut off, and Mr. Burns, the supercargo, and the English captain, three sailors, and one woman killed. From all I could then gather, the particulars of the affair were as follows:—About a month ago, Mr. Burns agreed with Tuanku Hasan that he should pilot him round the east coast in order that he might find Kina Batañgan, but a quarrel arose between Mr. Burns and his captain, which came to blows. After this quarrel they agreed to return to Labuan, and giving up the idea of trading to the eastward, they set sail from the harbour, and anchored at a little distance from Limau-Limauan—a point on the north-western side of the bay.