To produce the fullest effects, the upas poison, of either kind, must be recent and well-preserved; exposure to the air soon destroys its potency; its effects depend on the strength of the animal, and the quantity taken. Three times the quantity taken into the circulation are necessary to produce the same effects taken into the stomach. The momentary application of a small quantity to the blood does not prove fatal. It is necessary that the poison be inserted with a dart; thus applied, the poison of the anchar, in its recent state, kills a mouse in ten minutes, a cat in fifteen, a dog within an hour, and a buffalo—one of the largest of quadrupeds—in something more than two hours. The effects of the poison of the chetik are far more violent and sudden. Fowls, which long resist the poison of the anchar, die often in less than a minute from that of the chetik. It kills a dog in six or seven minutes.
The train of symptoms induced by the operation of the anchar are restlessness, quick breathing, increased flow of saliva, vomiting, alvine discharge, slight twitches, laborious breathing, violent agony, severe convulsions and death. The chetik acts more directly on the nervous system and brain, and after a few primary symptoms, destroys life by one sudden effort.
Referring to the use of poisoned arrows, Mr. Crawford, a long resident in the island of Java, says: “The most barbarous of the Indian islanders, in their wars with Europeans and each other, discharge arrows poisoned with the juice of the anchar. These may, indeed, produce an aggravated wound and much debility; but I doubt whether the wound of a poisoned arrow has ever proved immediately fatal.” Rumphius describes the Dutch soldiers as suffering severely from the effects of this poison in the wars conducted by them, about the middle of the seventeenth century, at Amboyna and Macassar, until a remedy was discovered in the emetic qualities of the Radix toxicaria or bakung. The assertion of the discovery of a remedy throws a doubt upon the whole, for it is surely altogether unreasonable to expect that clearing the stomach by an emetic should prove an antidote to a subtle poison taken into the circulation, and acting upon the nervous system! The Dutch soldiers were probably more frightened than hurt. In the perfidy of the practice of using poisoned weapons, and the mysterious and secret operation of a poison, there is something to appal the stoutest heart, and abundant materials for terror and superstition.
When the soldiers, both Indian and European, proceeded on an expedition to Bali, in 1814, they expressed serious apprehension for the poisoned darts of the Balinese. The same fear was entertained by the same people for the creeses of the Javanese, until we discovered that that people never poisoned their weapons. Such, unhappily for fiction, is the true account of the upas-tree, the bark of which is used by the natives of the countries in which it grows as wearing apparel, and beneath the shade of which the husbandman may repose himself with as much security as under that of cocoa-palm or bamboo.
CHAPTER VII.
THE OLD HEAD-MAN, THE “STRONG ONE,” THE “HANDSOME ONE,” THE “WEAK ONE.”
Delicious the climate, enchanting the scenery, of the islands of the Indian Archipelago! crowded as they are, from the water’s edge to their very summit, with luxuriant foliage, and offering to the vision a richness of tint unknown in other regions; nevertheless, to two youngsters longing for activity, and the free and natural use of their legs, a voyage along the coast-line of Java, cribbed, cabined and confined in a comparatively small craft, and manned by natives, who, either from ignorance or obstinacy, insist upon hugging the shore and never losing sight of land, was very monotonous. Thus, when we came in sight of the cliffs Karong-Bolang, in the province of Baglen, and Prabu told us that the nests to be found in the bowels of these stupendous rocks was the end and object of our voyage, we gave three cheers—good, hearty Yankee cheers. As for Martin, he was in an ecstasy of delight, for he was about to become a “nest-hunter;” although, by the way, the full meaning of these words in conjunction neither he nor I then exactly comprehended.
“It is scarcely daybreak; we shall see flocks of swallows,” said Prabu, as about that hour the prahu made towards a creek.
“What! the little nest-makers, the purveyors-general to the pig-tailed mandarins?” asked Martin.
“My young master, yes!” replied Prabu; “for they are night-birds, and leave not the caves till the sun has disappeared.”
Almost as he spoke, the vessel ran into the midst of a tribe of these important little feathered animals. They resembled the common swallow in form and color, but, like Mother Carey’s chickens (the smallest of the petrel tribe), seemed ever restless, ever in motion. Sometimes they appeared to skim the water, as if taking up some substance with the bill from the sea; at others, darting, turning and twisting in the air, as if after fleet-winged insects; but, curiously enough, although my brother and I watched very keenly, neither of us could detect anything in the air, or upon the surface of the sea, upon which they could feed; so, turning to Prabu, I said, “What on earth do they exist upon?”