Perjalanan di Kepulauan Hindia Timur/Bab 11

CHAPTER XI.

THE MINAHASSA.

December 29th.—Early this morning rode about two miles from Sonder in a northwest direction, down over the edge of the plateau on which that village is situated. The road was nothing but a narrow path, and led along a deep ravine, whose sides in several places were high precipices. A short distance beyond the native village of Tinchep is the beautiful waterfall Munte, nine hundred and sixty-four feet above the sea, but six hundred and fifty below Sonder. The height of the fall is about sixty feet, and the width of the stream at this time is nearly twenty. The rock over which it pours is a perpendicular wall of trachytic lava. The place from which travellers view the fall is some two hundred feet above it, where the road runs along the side of a mountain-chain, that curves in the form of a horseshoe around it, and makes a magnificent background for this charming picture. Luxuriant foliage hangs over the stream above the cataract, and vines and small trees have found a foothold in the crevices and on the projecting ledges of the steep wall beneath; and as the showers of falling drops strike the ends of their branches, they continually[357] wave to and fro, though where the beholder stands, not the slightest breeze is moving in the air. We had come at just the right time to see it when it is most charming, for the early sun was then shooting oblique bands of bright light across the falling water, and as the stream is divided into millions of drops the moment it curves over the edge of the cliff, those pearly spheres were now lighted up and now darkened, as repeatedly they shot out of the shaded parts into the bands of golden light.

Returning to Sonder, I proceeded along the main route in the southeast direction to Sonder Tua, “Old Sonder,” and Kawangtoan, and thence to the lovely négri of Tompasso. During this distance, of about eight miles, we had slowly ascended until we were about five hundred and seventy-five feet above Sonder. The view here is open on all sides. In the southwest is Mount Tompasso, which attains an elevation of over thirty-eight hundred feet. In the southeast the high, steep mountains are seen that border this elevated plain on the south. Great land-slides appear on their sides; and the people at Tompasso said that, not long before, three natives, who had cleared and planted large gardens on the steep declivities, went one morning to continue their labor, as usual, when to their great surprise their gardens had disappeared, and all that was left of them was a huge heap of sandstones and fragments of trees piled up on the edge of the plain.

This village is laid out with a large, square pond in the middle, and on a broad dike which crosses it is the highway. A well-graded street borders this[358] pond, and the houses on its four sides are all placed facing its centre. The hedges that border the house-lots are mostly composed of rose-bushes, and the pond itself is nearly filled with the richly-colored and fragrant lotus, Nymphæa lotus, a large water-lily, held sacred in Egypt and India as the symbol of creation. It is the beautiful flower upon which Buddha is represented as sitting in each of the great images, where he is supposed to personify the Past, the Present, and the Future, three immense statues, to be seen in any of the thousand temples in the East dedicated to that heathen god. The “lotus” or “lotos” of northern Africa, the fruit of which was supposed to possess the wonderful power of making all who tasted it forget their “homes and friends and native shores,” is a tree, the Celtis Australis. If the ancients, who delighted so much in fables and myths, had only known of this charming place, they would have located their lotus-land here in the distant East, where the air is so pure and balmy, and the scenery so enchanting.

About a mile and a half beyond Tompasso we came to a number of “mud-wells,” and I began to examine them; but, as a heavy shower was now seen coming up, my attendant and I again leaped into our saddles and dashed off at a fast canter to Langowan, where the chief very politely insisted on my remaining with him instead of going to the next village—an invitation I was happy to accept, for I was determined not to leave this wonderful region until I had visited all the hot-springs in the vicinity, especially as the missionary here offered to go with me on the[359] morrow, so that I should not fail to see those that were most interesting.

December 30th.—Early this morning, in company with the missionary, the hukom tua, and a number of natives rode back nearly to Tompasso to reëxamine the mud-wells seen yesterday. The area in which most of them are found is about half a mile square, on the side of a gentle declivity. Some time before we came to them, we could tell where they were by the quantities of steam and gas rising from them, and, as we came nearer, we could hear the heavy bubbling of the principal one. It is of a triangular form, and measures about thirty feet on a side, one of the angles lying toward the top of the hill. The mud is generally of a lead color, and varies in consistency from the centre, where it is nearly as thin as muddy water, to the edges, where in some places it is as thick as cream, and in others like putty. It boils up like pitch—that is, rises up in small masses, which take a spherical form, and then burst. The distance between the centres of these ebullitions varies from six inches to two feet or more, so that the whole surface is covered with as many sets of concentric rings as there are separate boiling points. Near each of the centres the rings have a circular form; but, as they are pressed outward by the successive bubbling up of the material within them, they are pressed against each other, and become more or less irregular, the corners always remaining round until they are pressed out against those which originated from another point. By that time the rings have expanded from small circles into irregular[360] polygons. They, therefore, exactly represent the lines of concretionary structure frequently seen in schists, and represented in nearly every treatise on geology.[50] If this bubbling action should cease, and in the course of time the clay become changed by heat and pressure into slates, the similarity of the two would perhaps be very close. Have, therefore, the particles now forming the old schists which show this structure been subjected to such mechanical changing in their relative position to each other, before they were hardened into the schists they now form, as the particles of clay in this pool are undergoing at the present time?

Near this large well was a hot-spring about three feet in diameter, and two feet deep. Its temperature was as high as 98° Celsius, 208.4° Fahrenheit, and of course much steam rose from its surface. We boiled some eggs here hard in a few minutes. The water was pure and the natives living in the vicinity frequently come and wash their clothing in this natural boiler. No trace of vegetation could be detected beneath the surface nor on its edges where the bubbling water splashed. At the foot of the hill we visited a considerable lake which was strongly impregnated with sulphur, and near it a pond of thick, muddy water which in several places boiled up at intervals. About twenty of these boiling pools are found on this hill-side, and in the low, marshy land at its feet. Up the hill above the mud-well first described was a naked spot several yards in diameter.[361] It is composed of tana puti, white earth; that is, decomposed lavas. Considerable steam was escaping from two or three holes where the natives had been taking out this white earth or clay, which they mix with rice-water and use in whitewashing their houses, a common practice throughout the Minahassa. We now rode west to Tompasso, and turning to the north came to a small village called Nolok. Thence the natives guided us a short distance in a northeasterly direction to a brook, and following up this for some distance, we came to a large bowl-shaped basin about seventy-five feet in diameter and twenty feet deep. Its sides were of soft clay, and so steep that we had much difficulty in getting near enough to its edge to obtain such a view as I desired, and the only way we accomplished it was by selecting a place where the intertwining roots of many small trees made a kind of turf. The coolies cleared away the shrubbery with their cleavers, and then by taking the left hand of one native while he held fast to another with his right, I was enabled to lean over its soft edge and obtain a complete view of the boiling water which partly covered its miry bottom. The stream which flows down into this basin rises on higher land to the north, and is cool until it comes into this basin. Here it is heated and strongly impregnated with sulphur, and changed to a whitish color. This circular basin I suppose has been wholly formed by the motion of the water that boils with the heat beneath it. One object in visiting these hot springs was to ascertain at what degree of temperature vegetation first began to appear. We therefore went down the[362] stream, and began following its course upward toward this basin. At a place where the temperature was 48° Celsius, 118.4° Fahrenheit, the rocks and sticks in the water were thickly covered with dark-green algæ. A little higher up the temperature was 51° Celsius, 123.8° Fahrenheit, and algæ were still present, though the fumes of sulphur that rose choked me as I stooped to examine the temperature. We had now come to a thick jungle where the ground was so soft and miry it was both difficult and dangerous to get nearer the boiling pool. At last one of the natives was induced by the promise of a large piece of silver to cut away the bamboos and small shrubbery, if I would keep close behind him. Thus we slowly worked our way several yards higher up, when I ordered him to turn toward the stream. This hot-bog was certainly the next place to Tartarus. In several places between the clumps of small trees and bamboos the water was boiling and bubbling furiously, and pouring out great volumes of stifling gases, but I followed my coolie so closely that he had no time to regret his agreement, and at last we reached the bank of the stream, a place was cleared, and fastening my thermometer to the end of a long bamboo, I placed it in the hot, opaque water. Three times I repeated the observation, and each time the mercury stood at 50° Celsius, 122° Fahrenheit, but I judged from the rate it fell after the first reading that it stood at 52°, certainly not higher, before it was raised into the air. In this spot we had unfortunately come among hundreds of ants, that came out and bit me until my ankles seemed to be surrounded[363] with live coals, and at the end of the third reading I dropped the bamboo and ran back with all my might to escape these pests and end my misery. While I held the thermometer in the bubbling (not boiling) water, I ordered the coolie to raise the sticks that were floating in it, but could not discern the slightest appearance of any vegetable growth, though it was very noticeable a little farther down the stream where the temperature of the water was not more than one degree lower, but where the quantity of sulphur in the water must have been much less, judging by the proportionate strength of the fumes that rise in the two places. All the other readings given here were made while the mercury remained in the water, and as the thermometer had been carefully marked the observations are liable to but little error. If some other observer should go to the same places and find a greater or less quantity of water, no doubt the temperature also would be found to have slightly changed. The missionary in our party, who had visited this place several times, assured me that frequently, when the cold stream that flows into this basin is much swollen by heavy rains, the water is thrown up at short intervals as high as a common palm-tree, about fifty feet. The natives also told me they had all often seen it in such violent action. The basin is therefore nothing but the upper, expanding part of a deep geyser-like tube.

We now returned toward Langowan, and visited a large basin of hot water to the left of the road, and about a mile from that village. Its basin is bowl-shaped, nearly circular in form, forty-eight feet in[364] diameter. The water does not boil up except in one or two places, and almost the only gas that escapes is steam. Its temperature is 78° Celsius, 172.4° Fahrenheit. On one side is a small brook which carries off the surplus water, for this is truly a spring, that is, a place where water flows up from the ground. A short distance to the west and north are a number of hills, from which this water no doubt comes. As stifling gases were not pouring out, I had a better opportunity for examining the banks of the brook, which flowed off sixty feet, and was then conducted across the road by a causeway. Tracing it with the current several times, I invariably came to the first indication of vegetable life in the same place. It was a small quantity of algæ on the bottom of the brook, each plant being about as large round as a pin, and an eighth of an inch in length, and resembling the Vaucheria, or brook silk, the green threads of which are seen in the fresh-water ponds by our roadsides in summer. Here the temperature was 76¾° Celsius, 170.15° Fahrenheit. As the water flowed out through this shallow brook, a large part of all the sulphurous gas it contained of course passed off, and I believe the vegetation began at that point, not so much because the water was 1¼° Celsius cooler than in the basin, as because it was much purer, for at a short distance nearer the basin, where the temperature was 77⅛° Celsius, 172.82° Fahrenheit, no kind of vegetation could be detected, and yet the difference in the temperature of the water in the two places was only three-eighths of a degree in Celsius’s scale.

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Geologists suppose that our earth was once a molten, liquid mass, which cooled by degrees until a crust was formed, that slowly thickened until condensation began in the surrounding atmosphere, and thus the water of the primeval ocean was formed. At first this water must have been just below the boiling point, and the query has arisen, How cool did the sea become before vegetation began to appear in it, and on the land then above the sea? The partial answer indicated by the few observations above is, that the presence of vegetable life depended more on the chemical composition of the water than on its temperature. If it was as pure then as the larger pool described above, the whole ocean was yet one great steaming caldron when these very simple aquatic plants, each apparently consisting of only a single branching cell, began to grow in the shallow places along its shores. Before this time, however, other algæ, like those which now grow in moist terrestrial places, may have been thriving on the land in the steamy atmosphere.

Sunday, December 31st.—At 8 A. M. attended the native church, where the missionary preaches. It was well filled, and the attention manifested by all was highly commendable. At the close of the service four or five couples were married; the pastor, after performing the ceremony, explaining to the husbands that they must support their wives, and not, like the Alfura, who are heathens, live in idleness, and expect their wives to support them. A controleur, who had been stationed in the interior, back of Gorontalo, now arrived at Langowan, on his[366] way to Kema, having been transferred, at his request, to Sumatra. We should therefore be companions on the steamer all the way to Java, which was especially agreeable to me, as he spoke English well, and no one not born in Holland can ever learn to pronounce the harsh gutturals of the Dutch language with perfect ease and accuracy. From Langowan we rode four miles in a northerly direction to Kakas, a village at the southern end of the lake of Tondano. The ruma négri here is one of the most pleasantly-situated buildings in the Minahassa. It is large and carefully built, and has broad verandas both toward the lake and the village. It is surrounded with plots of green grass, neatly bordered with gravelled walks, and rose-bushes covered with large crimson flowers. In the evening, when the moon rose over the sharp peaks a short distance to the east, and spread a broad band of silver light over the lake, the effect was charming; and now, while we inhale the balmy air, and recall to mind the ponds of beautiful lotus we have been passing, we may feel that we are indeed in the enchanted lotus-land that Tennyson thus pictures: In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon; At noon the coast with languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke the slender stream Along the cliff to fall, and pause, and fall, did seem.

January 1, 1866.—Walked with the controleur and chief through the village, and saw the mode of[367] pounding out rice by water-power. The axle of the water-wheel is made very long, and filled with a number of small sticks, which, as they turn over, raise poles fixed in a perpendicular position, that fall again when the revolving stick is drawn away from them. A large boat, manned by seven natives, was made ready for me to go to any part of the lake of Tondano and ascertain its depth. It occupies the lower portion of a high plateau, and its surface, as measured by S. H. De Lange, is two thousand two hundred and seventy-two English feet above the sea. It is about seventeen miles long in a northerly and southerly direction, and varies in width from two to seven miles. It is nearly divided into two equal parts by high capes that project from either shore. On the south and southwest and on the north, its shores are low, and the land slowly ascends from one to five miles, and then curves upward to the jagged mountain-crest that bounds the horizon on all sides. In the other parts of its shores it rises up from the water in steep acclivities. All the lowlands and the lower flanks of the mountains are under a high state of cultivation, and the air is cool and pure, while it is excessively hot and sultry on the ocean-shore below. Some writers have regarded this lake-basin as an old extinct crater; and some, as only a depression in the surrounding plain, or, in other words, the lower part of the plateau. To settle this question beyond a doubt, it was necessary to ascertain its form. I therefore asked the Resident if he could furnish me with a line to sound with as I crossed it. He replied that he had but one of two hundred fathoms,[368] and that I could not expect to reach the bottom with that, for all the fishermen who live on its shores declare that it “has no bottom,” that is, is unfathomable. It would be something to know that it was more than twelve hundred feet deep—so a coolie was ordered to carry the line. From Kakas we rowed over a short distance toward the high shore opposite, that being said to be one of the immeasurable places. A heavy sinker was put on, and the whole line cleared, so that it would run out freely to the last foot. I gave the man at the bow the command, and the cord began to rattle over the boat’s side, when suddenly it stopped short. “Is the sinker off?” “No, it’s on the bottom.” “How many fathoms are out.” “Eleven fathoms and five feet.” After this we sounded eight times, and the deepest water, which was near the middle, between the two high capes, is only twelve fathoms and two feet. The water not only proved shallow, but the bottom was found to be as even as the lowland at the northern and southern ends of the lake. The basin is therefore only a slight depression in the lower part of the plateau. The only fishes known in this lake are the same three species already mentioned as existing in the sulphurous waters of Lake Linu. Reaching the large village of Tondano, at the northern end of the lake, I was kindly received by the controleur, who had accompanied me already from Tomohon to Sonder. A heavy rain set in, and I was obliged to defer the rest of my journey till the next day.

January 2d.—The thick rain-clouds of yesterday[369] broke away this morning as the sun rose, and the sky is now perfectly clear. The controleur provided me with a horse, and a hukom tua accompanied me as a guide. Our course was nearly west, and soon the road became very steep, and extremely slippery from the late rain. As we rose, the view over the plateau beneath us widened, until we wound round the mountain to the little village of Rurukan, the highest négri in this land. The head of this village guided us to the top of a neighboring peak, where I found a large part of the Minahassa spread out before me like a great map. From the point where I stood, there stretched to the south a high mountain-chain, forming the western border of the lake of Tondano. A little more to the east were seen the lake far below, and the level land along a part of its shores, while on the opposite side of the lake rose the mountains that form the other end of the chain on which I was standing. This chain curves like a horseshoe, the open part being turned toward the north. At the same point where all the details of this plateau were comprised in a single view, by turning a little toward the north, I could look down the outer flanks of this elevated region away to the low, distant ocean-shore, where the blue sea was breaking into white, sparkling surf. A little farther toward the north rose the lofty peak of Mount Klabat, covered with a thick mantle of fleecy clouds, which had a hue of ermine in the bright light. This mantle was slowly raised and lowered by the invisible hand of the strong west wind. Beneath it, low on the sides of the mountain, was seen a line of trees[370] marking the shady way I had taken from Kema to Menado. This is considered, and I believe rightly, the finest view in the archipelago, and one of the most charming in the world, because the other famous views, like that of Damascus, do not include that great emblem of infinity, the open ocean.

THE GOMUTI PALM.

Rice is raised at even as great an elevation as the place we had reached, about four thousand five hundred feet, in what are called kebon kring, “dry gardens.” These are known as tegal lands in Java. The yield is said not to be as large as on the low lands, sawas, by the margin of the lake which are overflowed in the usual manner. The yearly crop in the Minahassa is from one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand piculs, of which ten to eighteen thousand are exported chiefly to Ternate and Amboina. Tobacco is also cultivated, but only for home consumption. Cocoa is also raised; and this year (1865) forty-four and three-fourth piculs were exported. Like that at Amboina, it is all bought by Chinamen, who send it to Manilla. Cocoa-nuts are also exported to the chief islands eastward. The yield this year is estimated by the officials at four million. There is a great abundance here of the gomuti or sagaru palm-tree, the large petioles of which spread out at the base into broad fibrous sheets that enclose the trunk. Some of the fibres resemble horsehair, but are much stiffer and very brittle, and are gathered by the natives and manufactured into coir, a kind of coarse rope. As the fibres soon break, they project in every direction until the rope becomes extremely rough and difficult to handle. It has the valuable[371] property, however, of being nearly indestructible in water, and the Resident tells me that this coir will probably prove of much value in manufacturing telegraph-cable. The quantity of fibres that could be gathered yearly would be very considerable if there should be any demand for them. Among the flexible, horsehair-like fibres are coarser ones, which the natives use for pens and arrows for their blowpipes, and interwoven with them is a mass of small fibres nearly as soft as cotton, which are used as tinder. The flowering part is cut off with a knife, and the sap which exudes is gathered in a piece of bamboo. In this condition it has a slightly acid and very bitter taste, resembles the thin part of buttermilk, and is a very agreeable and refreshing beverage in such a hot climate. As soon as it is allowed to ferment it becomes tuak, a highly-intoxicating drink, of which the natives are very fond. This palm prefers higher lands than the cocoa-nut, which flourishes well only on the low areas near the level of the sea. It will be readily distinguished from all the other palms of this land by its large leaves and the rough appearance of its trunk. Gomuti is the Malay name for the coir only, the tree itself they call anau. In Amboina the native name for it is nawa, and in other parts of the archipelago it has local names, showing that it is probably an indigenous plant. The soft envelopes of the seeds, which are so numerous that, when ripe, one bunch will frequently be a load for two men, contain a poisonous juice which the natives were accustomed to use on their arrows, and which the Dutch have named “hell-water.”

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Besides the fruits already mentioned, there are durians, mangostins, jambus or rose-apples, lansiums, pompelmuses, limes, bread-fruits, bananas, pine-apples, and oranges. The latter are particularly nice, and in one of the kinds the leathery rind is not yellow when the fruit, which is merely a berry, is ripe, but still remains as green as when only half-grown. It is the custom here at the table to peel this fruit with a knife, exactly as we peel an apple.

From Tondano to Kema the road is built in a deep, zigzag ravine, and commences to descend a mile north of the lake. Through the ravine flows a stream which is the outlet of the lake. On the northern side of the plateau where the road begins to descend, this stream is changed into a waterfall, which is known as the waterfall of Tondano. It consists of three falls, but, when seen from the usual point, a short distance north of the lower fall, the upper and middle ones form a boiling rapid, and only the lowest one presents a grand appearance. Where the first and second occur the water shoots down through a deep canal, which has been apparently formed in the rock by the strong current. Having rolled in a foaming mass through this deep canal, the water takes a flying leap down seventy feet into a deep, circular pool, the outer edges of this falling stream breaking up into myriads of sparkling drops, which fall in showers into the dark pool, where they disappear forever.

Here a strange tragedy occurred in the year 1855, when the governor-general from Java was journeying through this land. One of the highest officers on[373] his staff, a gentleman who had previously been governor of the Moluccas, came to this place while the others were resting at Tondano, and committed suicide by plunging headlong into the deep canal above the high fall. Only a short time before, he had dined with the whole company and seemed very cheerful, but here, probably in a moment of unusual despondency, he made the fatal leap.

Continuing in the way that followed this crooked stream, I occasionally beheld the high top of Mount Klabat before me. Several large butterflies flitted to and fro, their rich, velvety blue and green colors seeming almost too bright to be real. At the eighth paal we came to the native village Sawangan, and the chief showed me the burial-place of his people previous to the arrival of Europeans. Most of the monuments consist of three separate stones placed one on another. The lowest is square or oblong, and partly buried in the earth. Its upper surface has been squared off that the second might rest on it more firmly. This is a rectangular-parallelopipedon, one or two feet wide and two-thirds as thick, and from two to three feet high. It is placed on end on the first stone. In its upper end a deep hole has been made, and in this the body of the deceased is placed. It was covered by the third stone of a triangular form when viewed at the end, and made to represent that part of a house above the eaves. It projects a little beyond the perpendicular stone beneath it. On the sides of the roof rude figures of men, women, and children were carved, all with the knees drawn up against the chin and clasped by the[374] arms, the hands being locked together in front below the knees. In many of these the faces of the figures were flat, and holes and lines were cut representing the eyes, nose, and mouth; in others rude busts were placed on the eaves. This burial-place contains the finest monuments of olden times now existing in the Minahassa. Others can be seen at Tomohon, and especially at Kakas, but they are not as highly ornamented as these. At Kakas they are mostly composed of but two stones, one long one set upright in the ground, and another placed over this as a cover to the hole containing the body. At each of these places they are entirely neglected, and many of the images here have already fallen or been broken off. Noticing that a very good one was loose and ready to fall, I remarked to the chief that, if I did not take it, it would certainly soon be lost, and, before he had time to give his assent, I had it under my arm. The missionary at Langowan informed me that originally these graves were beset with such obscene ornaments that one of the Residents felt it his duty to order that they should all be broken off. This fact, and the rude form of the images, led me to think that they ought to be classed with the remarkable temple found near Dorey, on the north coast of New Guinea, and with the nude statues used by the Battas to ornament the graves of their deceased friends.

When the Portuguese first arrived in the Moluccas, this region was tributary to the prince of Ternate. All the natives were heathen then, and many of them yet retain the superstitious belief of their ancestors. Mohammedanism had not gained a foothold[375] among them, nor has it since, and the only Mohammedans now in the land are the immigrants at Menado, who have come from other parts of the archipelago, and a few natives banished from Java. Even as late as 1833, but little more than thirty years ago, Pietermaat, who was then Resident, in his official report, says of these people: “They are wholly ignorant of reading, writing, and arithmetic. They reckon by means of notches in a piece of bamboo, or by knots made in a cord.” Formerly they were guilty of practising the bloody custom of cutting off human heads at every great celebration, and the missionary at Langowan showed me a rude drawing of one of their principal feasts, made for him by one of the natives themselves. In front of a house where the chief was supposed to reside, was a short, circular paling of bamboos placed upright, the upper ends of all were sharpened, and on each was stuck a human head. Between thirty and forty of these heads were represented as having been taken off for this single festive occasion, and the missionary regarded the drawing as no exaggeration, from what he knew of their bloody rites.

The remarkable quantities of coffee, cocoa-nuts, and other articles yearly exported from the Minahassa show that a wonderful change has come over this land, even since 1833; and the question at once arises, What is it that has transferred these people from barbarism to civilization? The answer and the only answer is, Christianity and education. The Bible, in the hands of the missionaries, has been the chief cause that has induced these people to lay aside[376] their bloody rites. As soon as a few natives had been taught to read and write, they were employed as teachers, and schools were established from place to place, and from these centres a spirit of industry and self-respect has diffused itself among the people and supplanted in a great measure their previous predisposition to idleness and self-neglect. In 1840, seven years after Pietermaat gave the description of these people mentioned above, the number of Christians compared to that of heathen was as one to sixteen, now it is about as two to five; and exactly as this ratio continues to increase, in the same degree will the prosperity of this land become greater.

The rocks seen on this journey through the Minahassa, as noted above, are trachytic lavas, volcanic sand and ashes, pumice-stone, and conglomerates composed of these materials and clay formed by their decomposition. They all appear to be of a late formation, and, as Dr. Bleeker remarks, the Minahassa seems to be only a recent prolongation of the older sedimentary rocks in the residency of Gorontalo. In this small part of the peninsula, there are no less than eleven volcanoes. North of Menado is a chain of volcanic islands, which form a prolongation of this peninsula. On the island Siao there is an active volcano. North of it is the large island of Sangir. According to Valentyn, the highest mountain on the island underwent an eruption in December, 1711. A great quantity of ashes and lava was ejected, and the air was so heated for some distance around, that many of the natives lost their[377] lives. North of the Sangir islands are the Talaut group. These are the most northern islands under the Dutch, and the boundary of their possessions in this part of the archipelago.

The steamer Menado, on which I had previously taken passage from Batavia all the way to Amboina, now arrived at Kema. She had brought my collection from Amboina, Buru, and Ternate, and I was ready to return to Java, for some months had passed since I accomplished the object of my journey to the Spice Islands, and during that time I had travelled many hundred miles and had reached several regions which I had not dared to expect to see, even when I left Batavia. A whale-ship from New Bedford was also in the road, and when I visited her and heard every one, even the cabin-boy, speaking English, it seemed almost as strange as it did to hear nothing but Malay and Dutch when I first arrived in Java. Many whales are usually found east of the Sangir Islands, and north of Gilolo and New Guinea.

January 10th.—At noon steamed out of the bay of Kema and down the eastern coast of Celebes for Macassar. When the sun was setting, we were just off Tanjong Flasco, which forms the northern limit of the bay of Gorontalo or Tomini. As the sun sank behind the end of this high promontory, its jagged outline received a broad margin of gold. Bands of strati stretched across the sky from north to south and successively changed from gold to a bright crimson, and then to a deep, dark red as the sunlight faded. All this bright coloring of the sky was repeated in the sea, and the air between them[378] assumed a rich, scintillating appearance, as if filled with millions of minute crystals of gold.

The controleur, on board, who travelled with me from Langowan, has been farther into the interior, south of Gorontalo, than any foreigner previously. He found the whole country divided up among many petty tribes, who are waging a continual warfare with each other; and the immediate object of his dangerous journey was to conciliate two powerful tribes near the borders of the territory which the Dutch claim as being under their command. He found that all these people are excessively addicted to the use of opium, which is brought from Singapore to the western coast, near Palos, by Mandharese and Macassars.

The dress of the people consists of a sarong, made from the inner layers of the bark of a tree. They have large parangs, and value them in proportion to the number and minuteness of the damascene lines on their blades. Twenty guilders is a common price for them. The controleur gave me a very fine one, which was remarkably well tempered. The most valuable export from this bay is gold, which is found in great quantities, at least over the whole northern peninsula, from the Minahassa south to the isthmus of Palos. The amount exported is not known, for, though the Dutch Government has a contract with the princes to deliver all the gold obtained in their territory to it at a certain rate, they are offered a much higher price by the Bugis, and consequently sell it to them. No extensive survey has yet been made in this[379] territory, by the mining engineers employed by the government, and the extent and richness of these mines are therefore wholly matters of the most uncertain speculation. The fact, however, that gold was carried from this region before the arrival of Europeans, more than three hundred and forty years ago, and that the amount now exported appears to be larger than it was then, indicates that the supply must be very great. The government has not yet granted to private individuals the privilege of importing machinery and laborers, and proving whether or not mining can be carried on profitably on a large scale. A fragment of rock from this region was shown me at Kema by a gentleman, who said he knew where there were large quantities of it; and that specimen certainly was very rich in the precious metal. Gold is also found in the southwestern peninsula of Celebes, south of Macassar. The geological age of these auriferous rocks is not known, but I was assured that, back of Gorontalo, an outcropping of granite had been seen. Buffaloes and horses are plenty and cheap at Gorontalo, and many are sent by sea to the Minahassa. The horses are very fine, and from the earliest times the Bugis have been accustomed to buy and kill them to eat, having learned that such flesh is a most delectable food, centuries before this was ascertained by the enlightened Parisians.

January 11th.—Last night and to-day the sea has been smooth, almost as smooth as glass, while we know that on the opposite or western side of Celebes there has been one continuous storm. This[380] is why we have come down the eastern side of the island. Here the seasons on the east and west coasts alternate, as we have already noticed in Ceram and Buru, though those islands extend east and west, while Celebes extends north and south. To-day we passed through the Bangai group, lying between the Sula Islands and Celebes. From the appearance of the water, and from such soundings as are given, there appears to be only a depth of some thirty fathoms in the straits. These islands, therefore, not only have formed a part of the adjacent peninsula of Celebes, but do at the present day.

A remarkable similarity has been noticed between the fauna of Bachian, near the southern end of Gilolo, and that of Celebes, and in the Bangai and the Sula Islands we probably behold the remnants of an old peninsula that once completely joined those two lands. When we compare Celebes and Gilolo, we notice that the Bangai and Sula groups, stretching off to the east and southeast from one of the eastern peninsulas of Celebes, are analogous in position to Gebi, Waigiu, and Battanta, and the adjacent islands which are but the remnants of a peninsula that in former times connected Gilolo to the old continent of New Guinea and Australia.

Now, at sunset, we were approaching the Buton Passage, which separates the large island of Buton from Wangi-wangi, “The Sweet-scented Island.” This is a great highway for ships bound from Singapore to China in the west monsoon, and several are now here, drifting over the calm sea.

Buton is a hilly island, but no mountains appear. Its geological formation is said to consist of “recent limestone, containing madrepores and shells.” Here, again, we find indications of the wide upheaval that appears to be occurring in the whole archipelago, but especially in its eastern part. It is quite famous for the valuable cotton it produces, which, in the fineness and length of its fibres, is said to excel that raised in any other part of the archipelago, and is therefore highly valued by the Bugis and Macassars.

January 13th.—This morning we passed a large American man-of-war coming down grandly from the west, under steam and a full press of canvas. It is a most agreeable and unexpected pleasure to see such a representation of our powerful navy in these remote seas.[51]

The next day we passed through Salayar Strait, which separates the southern end of the peninsula of Celebes from the Salayar Islands, and may be regarded as the boundary between the alternating wet and dry seasons on the opposite sides of Celebes.

January 15th.—Arrived back at Macassar. There is nothing but one continuous series of heavy, pouring showers, with sharp lightning and heavy thunder.

January 16th.—Sailed for Surabaya in Java. This morning there is only such a wind as sailors would call a fresh, but not a heavy gale. In all the wide area between Java and the line of islands east to Timur on the south, and the tenth degree of north latitude, none of those frightful gales known in the Bay of Bengal as cyclones, and in the China Sea as “typhoons,” have ever been experienced. The chief sources of solicitude to the navigator of the Java and the Banda Seas are the strong currents and many reefs of coral.

Our large steamer is little else than a great floating menagerie. We have, as usual, many native soldiers on board, and each has with him two or three pet parrots or cockatoos. Several of our passengers have dozens of large cages, containing crested pigeons from New Guinea, and representatives of nearly every species of parrot in that part of the archipelago. We have also more than a dozen different kinds of odd-looking monkeys, two or three of which are continually getting loose and upsetting the parrot-cages, and, before the sluggish Malays can approach them with a “rope’s end” unawares, they spring up the shrouds, and escape the punishment which they know their mischief deserves. These birds and monkeys are mostly purchased in the Spice Islands; and if all now on board this ship could be safely transported to New York or London, they would far excel the collection on exhibition in the Zoological Gardens of the latter city.

Besides the Chinese, Arabs, Malays, and other passengers forward, there is a Buginese woman, a[383] raving maniac. She is securely shackled by an iron band around the ankle to a ring-bolt in the deck. One moment she is swaying to and fro, and moaning as if in the greatest mental agony and despair, and, the next moment, stamping and screeching in a perfect rage, her long hair streaming in the wind, her eyes bloodshot, and flashing fire like a tigress which has been robbed of her young. It would be difficult to fancy a more frightful picture. They are taking her to the mad-house near Samarang, where all such unfortunates are kindly cared for by the government. Her nation, the Bugis or Buginese, are famous for “running a muck.” Amuk, which was written by the early navigators “a muck,” is a common term in all parts of the archipelago for any reckless, bloody onset, whether made by one or more. It is, however, generally used by foreigners for those insane attacks which the Malays sometimes make on any one, generally to satisfy a feeling of revenge. When they have decided to commit a murder of this kind, they usually take opium, and, when partially under its influence, rush out into the street with a large knife and try to butcher the first person they may chance to meet. Many years ago such émeutes were of frequent occurrence, and even at the present time most of the natives who stand guard in the city of Batavia are each armed with a long staff, on the end of which is a Y-shaped fork, provided on the inner side with barbs pointing backward. This is thrust against the neck of the murderer, and he is thus secured without danger to the policeman.