CHAPTER VI.
START FOR PROBOLIXGO—BAGNIO BIRO—OUR POST-HORSES TAKEN BY A CONTROLEUR—LAKE GRATIE—NOTED FOR WATER LILIES, DUCK EGGS, AND ALLIGATORS—OFFERINGS TO THE ALLIGATORS—PROBOLINGO—LEAVE FOR KLAKA—BAD ROAD—KINDLY HELP—NIGHT VIEW OF THE VOLCANO—THE PASSANGRAHAN—CHAIN CONNECTING THREE VOLCANOES—CURIOUS FACT—ROW ROUND THE LAKE—DELICIOUS DIP—PROXIMITY OF TIGERS—LEAVE KLAKA—HARBOUR OF PROBOLINGO—DANGEROUS NAVIGATION.
CHAPTER VI.
Next morning we started for Probolingo, turning off to the right before reaching the thickly-populated village of Rajussa, which was our first post for Bagnio Biro, which signifies blue water. On arriving at Benongan, we found, to our great annoyance, that the post-horses we had ordered to be in waiting for us had been coolly appropriated by a Contrôleur.
"Who is this Contrôleur?" said I, nettled by the contretemps; "what right has he to make use of the horses I ordered and paid for?"
"He is a Government officer, sir," replied Drahman, in a sotto voce tone, as though anxious to conceal my ignorance of such a personage; "he takes in all the coffee of this district. Don't be angry with these men, sir—no one can prevent a Contrôleur from taking any horses which may be at the Poste. They would be turned out of their places if they dared to deny him."
Finding this to be the case, I saw it would be useless to make any further complaint; and therefore resigning myself to what could not be avoided, determined to proceed with the horses we had, and arrived at Bagnio Biro about half-past eight.
Our carriage drew up under an avenue of trees, where we got out, and along which we walked, taking the first turning to the right. It led us to an extensive garden, in which was a large square pond fed by spring water of the deepest blue, on one side of which was a bath-house, and on the other ruins and fragments of Buddhist images, collected from the surrounding neighbourhood. The place is shaded with beautiful Ansana trees and the broad-leafed teak, the former reminding me of our stately elms.
The water, either from its clearness or buoyancy, gives a ludicrous appearance to the bathers; the boys who had jumped in for cents seeming unnaturally dwarfed in stature, while their limbs were apparently doubled in number, making them look like Indian deities. Many come here for weeks or months, for the benefit of pure country air and bathing. One great source of amusement to such visitors is that of feeding the monkeys which abound here, and, from a naturally wild state, have become so tame as to approach strangers, and in some cases even eat from their hands.
We were curious enough to pay them a visit, and ordered Drahman to purchase several bunches of Bananas. Our messenger returning shortly with the fruit, we held some of it temptingly in our hands, when down from numbers of trees came a troop of the animals, old and young, making the air ring with their yells and screams of pleasure. They were soon, however, interrupted by the appearance of three very large specimens of their kind, for whom, to my great surprise and amusement, the others immediately made room — some skulking away to a neighbouring tree, from the branches of which they could see their more favoured brethren, others only retiring to a short distance, from whence they looked longingly at the fruit, the first bit of which they were ready to snap up. Some of it we threw beyond the powerful trio, who would turn and stare at us with a truculent visage, followed by a fierce, angry growl, and an occasional dart at those whose penchant for plantains made them more than usually bold.
The largest of the three is called by the natives the Rajah, and the other two may be considered in the light of aides-de-camp to his serene highness.
These monkeys were all of a dark grey colour, with black feet and hands; their faces were generally nearly black, with the addition, in the three large ones, of a long beard, hanging, like a semicircle, from their cheeks and chins.
The principal antiquities round the tank were an enormous head, called by the natives Buta, a corruption, I daresay, of Buddha, and a tomb, ornamented with figures, called a Kramat or shrine, on which, even now, they often burn incense.
Gratie is at the distance of one post from the Blue Water. We proceeded there next, passing on our way several very extensive sugar factories, strong with fermented odours, and noisy with the voices of Chinese and native coolies, and the jarring discord of machinery.
The ditches on either side of our road were full of water-lilies; and endless numbers of ducks were bathing in them, or diving for animalculaa in the muddy bottom.
The village of Gratie, and the surrounding neighbourhood, is famed for its breed of ducks, and for the excellency of its salted duck eggs, which are not only sold in quantities throughout the country, but are likewise largely exported to many of the islands near Java. The receipt for pickling them is very simple, and as it is a delicacy many Europeans are fond of, I will give it for the benefit of those who might like to test its excellence.
The egg is first rubbed well with ashes, to clear the shell from all grease, as well as to make it more porous. A paste of red clay, or mud, ashes, and salt, is then spread entirely over the egg, leaving no space for the air to penetrate. After remaining in this condition for ten days, it is boiled hard, cut in two, and served without taking the shell off.
On arriving at the lake, Ave alighted by the roadside, and walked to the little hut near the water, where we seated ourselves on the benches under the shade, it being now near mid-day and very hot.
Opposite to us was the Gunong Gadong. Two-thirds of its slopes, from the base upwards, was cultivated, and some cottages were built on its sides. To the right was the Smeroe, a faint line of smoke, just discernible in the distance, issuing from its summit. The fields on all sides of the lake were cultivated, and cocoa-nut, date, bamboo, and plantain trees were to be seen near the water, which was of a sickly greenish hue, not at all inviting for a bath, though the natives' appreciation of their Danao, or Lake, seemed higher than ours, as several were disporting with great delight in it.
The Javanese have a superstitious belief that if a duck is put into this lake and swallowed by an alligator, its owner will meet with success in all that he does. Wishing to gratify ourselves with the sight of one of these formidable alligators, we ordered our importunate boatman to procure a couple of ducks. He was not long gone, when he returned with them, accompanied by a boy who carried two small rafts, made from parts of a plantain tree. To each of these the man fastened one of the poor victims by its right leg, allowing it just sufficient space to touch the water with its breast. When he had got them ready, we were desired to step into a cockle-shell of a canoe, about ten feet long and two broad, formed out of the trunk of a tamarind, or teak tree, with all the wood scooped out, leaving a thickness of two or three inches to form the boat. It was soon shoved off, and when we had got some distance from the shore, the boat-man asked Drahman where we came from, and whither we were bound? Being satisfied with our replies, he cried out in a sing-song voice some Javanese words, which my servant interpreted:
"Oh, Bajul (alligator), come out of the water! A gentleman and his lady have come from Batavia to offer you a couple of ducks! Come, come quickly, delay not, but bring good luck to this Tuan and his wife by taking their offerings!"
We remained some time cramped up in a kind of half sitting, half kneeling posture, unable to move our limbs freely for fear of destroying the equilibrium of our frail canoe, our backs undergoing a slow process of baking under the burning sun, which did not contribute to render our position more comfortable. We waited with all the patience of martyrs for the appearance of the reptile near one of our ducks, which the man had committed to the water previous to uttering his ejaculations to the alligator; but as the rafts floated far into the distance, apparently unmolested in their course, we began to think seriously of returning to the shore.
"Once more, Tuan, only once more!" said the boatman, in a tone of entreaty, as he again besought the uncomplying alligator to seize the offerings.
Finding all his eloquence vain, he took to his paddles, and turned the canoe in the direction of the land, saying as he did so, "Ah, sir, how sorry I am for your ill luck!"
But the excitement was not quite over yet. "We were still some hundred yards from the shore, when Drahman cried out, "Tuan, Tuan, here he is, look, look!" and, turning our eyes in the direction he pointed, about three hundred yards to our right, Ave saw what looked like the trunk of a small tree floating on the surface of the lake. In a few minutes this object seemed to rise partially out of the water, and very soon the long jaws, head, and part of the body of an enormous alligator were clearly visible on its surface. The glance of his ugly pachyderm which he permitted us to have, however, was only momentary, for almost instantaneously he again dived down into the depths, and was lost to us for ever.
On landing, the boatman again expressed his sorrow for our bad luck, adding, by way of comforting us under our misfortune, "Many, sir, stop for hours, and leave without even seeing the nose of one."
"Ah," replied I, in Malay, as I handed him a rupee for the ducks, and a present for himself, "you are the lucky man, I think—you have not only got a good price for your ducks, but also, when we are gone, will take them home again to serve for a future occasion."
"Oh no, no, Tuan, never!" said he, looking very grave, "we dare not take what has been given to the Bajuls, it would bring great misfortune upon us."
We smiled and looked incredulous; on seeing which, Drahman, with true native ardour for anything of a superstitious tendency, took the part of the boatman, and seemed to think we were tempting the alligators by laughing at them, A gentleman has since told me that he was present when an alligator seized one of the ducks sent by him on the lake, and he declared it to be a fine sight. The formidable monster rose partially out of the water, the better to see the exact whereabouts of his prey, and after diving below, re-appeared once more just in front of the raft, and darted upon his poor victim with the greatest velocity and violence, causing the water around him to froth and foam. The duck firmly grasped between his jaws, he raised himself above the surface till half his body was visible, and placing his fore paws on the raft, swallowed the dainty morsel.
Early in the morning, or towards sunset, is considered the best time for seeing them, as they are then occupied in the search of food. The greater part of the day they generally pass in sleep under the shade of projecting stones, or beneath a clump of trees.
My servant told us a curious tale about alligators. The incident, as he asserted, took place during the time he lived in Sumatra, and had been related to him by some one he had no reason to disbelieve. For my own part, I can only consider it one of those strange legends which the credulity of the natives is ever so ready to receive.
"A short time, sir," said the narrator, "before I went to Indragiri (in Sumatra), as servant to the Sultan of that place, a man was missed from the town and as such an incident occasionally happened, it was supposed that he had been caught and eaten by an alligator whilst bathing in the river. A report to this effect having reached the ears of the Sultan, his majesty summoned the three keepers of his alligators, named Saguntang, Sachupa, and Sumati,[1] and before a large con- course of people complained to them that one of their children—as the natives term them—had killed a subject of his. The keepers expressed great regret at this breach of good conduct on the part of one of their charge. 'But, 'Tuan-cod' (my lord), they added, rising to take leave, 'rest assured full vengeance shall be taken upon the offender.' Saguntang, Sachupa, and Samati accordingly wended their way to the river side; on reaching which they stopped at the spot where they were accustomed to feed the alligators. As these immense reptiles were called by name, they responded to the summons in such numbers that the water, far and near, seemed covered with them. Although they looked like beams of wood closely packed together, the sharp-eyed keepers perceived the absence of one of them. 'There is one missing,—Bassar, where is he?' said Samati. A slight movement of the water was seen, and the culprit rose abashed, and timidly took his place. 'You—it is who are guilty,' said Sachupa, 'come forth and receive the due punishment for thy crime. You have killed one of the king' sown subjects; and therefore here, in the sight of thy brothers and sisters, thou must expiate this dire offence. Hast thou aught to say in thy defence?' The alligator lowered his head in silence, in acknowledgement of his guilt. 'Samati,' cried Saguntung in a loud voice, 'cut off the fore feet of this vile wretch, and then chop his body into a thousand pieces.' Samati—who appears to have been a sort of Calcraft in his relation to the alligators—immediately obeyed; and when the merciless sentence had been executed, the pieces of the alligator's body were carefully collected, and thrown into the river, to be food for the fishes."
At Woedoesan, the first post after Gratie, we were struck with the size of two very large Verengen trees. Any traveller who happens to take this route will do well to stop and look at them, as it is not very probable that he will see any of much greater magnitude, if so large, during the whole course of his excursion. One of them was above twenty-seven feet in circumference, and the other about five feet less, round the trunk. They were really noble-looking trees, thickly covered with foliage. Beyond the next post we came in view of Lamongan, the Tengerr range being to our right, and the Ardjuno, Panangoongan, and Indrokito fast receding from our view.
At one p.m. we reached Probolingo, a small clean town, intersected by fine broad streets, lined with avenues of Yetty and Verengen. As we had learnt beforehand that there was nothing worth seeing at this place, we determined on proceeding to Klaka with as little delay as possible, whither notice of our intended visit had already been sent. Mr. H, a gentleman to whom 1 had a letter of introduction, immediately gave orders to procure horses for us, and dispatched a messenger to order relays to be in readiness at all the intermediate stations. Our stay at Probolingo, therefore, was very short. In about three hours from the time of our arrival we were again en route.
For three posts from Probolingo, the country was very flat and uninteresting, nothing but endless open fields of sawahs, with an occasional forest of teak and other wild trees. As we approached Klaka, the land became more undulating, gradually rising as we proceeded onward. Wild boars we saw in abundance, many intently searching for food in the field or common on each side of the way, on which the wild long grass grew to an enormous height; others scampering across the road, some ten yards before our horses, and then, as though terrified by the sight of our large vehicle, suddenly darting across the fields, and vanishing into the adjacent thickets.
It was growing quite dusk as we neared our destination. The road, which was one seldom traversed by carriages, was very bad, in some parts scarcely passable. At one time, indeed, we came to a dead stop, as, in spite of all the efforts of the coucer and lopers, with the exertions of the poor horses themselves, the rees-wagen would not stir. Several men, seeing our difficulty, came in a short time from the neighbouring fields and huts to render us assistance. Putting their shoulders to the wheels, they eased the horses of the weight that dragged them back, and thus facilitated our progress. When they had helped the carriage up the crest of a steep hill, I felt for my purse to reward them; but Drahman, seeing my intention, begged me by no means to offer any recompense, as the Dutch, he said, never did so, and it would, therefore, only be a bad precedent. The land which they cultivated was given to them by Government, with the express understanding that they should gratuitously help all travellers in difficulties, a service for which they were exempted from the usual tax of one-tenth of their produce.
Close to Klaka our horses stopped again, and we once more owed our progress to the assistance of the native labourers, who this time helped us all the way to the Passangrahan. I could not resist the temptation of giving them each something for their work, as, in addition to the labour, they were exposed to the rain, which was now pouring down in torrents, and the evening was dark and miserable.
The Mandor soon appeared, and before long we were made as comfortable as we could reasonably expect to be. After partaking of tea, we walked out on the back verandah, to have a night view of the volcano.
The rain had ceased, but the night was dark and gloomy. On looking to the summit of the mountain, we saw a red flame of light issuing from the Lamongan, vividly illuminating the sky immediately over the crater, and reflected again on the placid waters of the lake. The sight was a most striking one, such as, once seen, could never be effaced from the memory—so grand, so beautiful, in the solemn darkness and weird-like silence of night, was the spectacle on which we looked. On retracing our steps to the large sitting-room, we were much amused by seeing our servant peering into several rooms, first into one and then into another, till I really began to fancy he was seeking the Pungooroo Ruma, or House Spirit, which, according to a native superstition, presides in every dwelling.
"Well, how now, Drahman," said I, "what is the matter?"
"Are you not afraid, sir, to pass the night in this lonely house, after what the Mandor has told me!"
"What did he tell you?" inquired I, scarcely able to suppress a smile.
"Why, a tiger walks past the house every night; and one," he added, lowering his voice, "was actually seen on the verandah a few evenings ago."
"Oh! is that all!" said I; "then ask the Mandor for a gun, and we will shoot the machan when he comes. I am most anxious to get a good skin."
"Sta-par-alla,Tuan!" exclaimed Drahman, a look of terror on his face. "Don't, sir! don't say so! If the Dato (father) of the forest does come, it will only be to scent us."
"To scent us?—what do you mean?"
"Why, that is the way they find out whether we have a good or a bad heart."
"Oh! if that is your opinion of tigers," said I, laughing outright, "I see no need for your fear."
"Well, I beg you, sir, not to have a gun. There are a few bad ones among the lot, and these will attack human beings, but the generality mean well towards mankind, and it will be unlucky for us, sir, if you shoot a good tiger."
Next morning we were up early, to inspect our new locality. The Passangrahan was a large bungalow, reached by four steps leading to the front verandah, which, together with the one at the back of the house, was ornamented with trellis work, tastefully entwined with woodbine, passionflower, and other native creepers. The house was approached from the road by an avenue of wild trees, extending up to the garden gate, between which and the Passangrahan was a neatly-trimmed and well-weeded garden, presenting, with its parterres, in which bloomed many a European flower, and its pretty walks and smooth lawns, a curious contrast to the avenue beyond, on each side of which nature was left in all its wild luxuriance.
The lake of Klaka was behind the house, and on the opposite side rose the Lamongan, apparently close at hand, but in reality four miles distant. It is an active volcano, six thousand five hundred feet in height, broken at the summit, which, consisting apparently of red stone or clay, is of a yellow reddish shade. The vegetation on the upper part of the mountain is exceedingly sparse. A deep ravine, clothed with masses of dark green forest trees, apparently divides the summit on one side, causing it to appear like two mountains. The lower part of the volcano, as well as the space between it and the lake, was covered with a dense jungle, which, stretching downwards to the margin of the water, encircled it with its verdant arms.
Between the Lamongan, the Smeroe, and Bromok, there is supposed to be some connecting link, as it is a curious fact that flames seldom issue from more than one of these mountains at the same time. A gentleman told us that he once ascended the mountain of Ardjuno, and, during the night which he passed on the summit, amused himself by watching the flames issuing from the three craters, whose respective situations, though the night was pitch dark, he well knew. The first one which ejected fire was the Smeroe, and in a few moments after its flame had died away the Bromok was seen topped with a tongue of fire, on the subsidence of which flames were observed issuing from the Lamongan. And thus, to use my informant's own words, "they carried on until I went to sleep."
We breakfasted—or rather took our early cup of tea—in the back verandah, just over the lake; after which, running down the steps, we wended our way through an avenue of orange, almond, fig, and other trees, to the water, where we entered a clumsy-looking boat, in which we were rowed round the lake, about three quarters of a mile in circumference. We steered under the shade of leafy bowers, occasionally emerging into the broad sunlight, until we reached the head of the lake, where, on lofty trees, the bark and branches of which were completely hidden by the loveliest creepers I ever saw, monkeys, known as the Lotong, Si-a-mang, and Budang, were swinging from branch to branch. The mothers of this carious tribe we could easily discern carrying their young, whose tiny arms and legs were tightly clasping round their careful parents. The Lotong, which seem to be the Anaks of the three tribes, being larger and longer than the others, are of a jet black colour, and have very long tails, apparently possessed of great power and strength, for they often made use of them as a sort of hook or lasso by which to hang from one branch while busily occupied in eating the fruit from another.
Covies of small wild ducks, called Bebeck, very much resembling our teal, swam in companies on the water. On our first appearance they allowed us to come within gunshot, but the noise of our oars, joined to the sound of our voices, soon made them wary and shy.
The Pncho is a large bird with beautiful jet black plumage, richly streaked with feathers tipped with gold, and darts through the air with the speed of an arrow. Its neck, which is much longer than the body, is something like that of the crane, or the rice bird, but not so graceful; the feathers on it are of a greenish hue. The length of the neck, together with its small head, and an eye like a little black bead, made it somewhat resemble a winged serpent. It is sometimes called the Melewis, and in the Philippines the Corvo Marino, or Sea Crow. Their principal food is fish, but they live also upon fruit and insects. The Mum-ti-ara is of a similar species, but smaller.
Wild pigeons also flew from tree to tree, seemingly undisturbed by our presence, and turtle and ring-doves kept up an incessant chorus, while kingfishers of varied plumage shot through the air with their piercing, discordant shrieks. The presence of these feathered denizens gave variety to a scene of mingled beauty and wildness.
After spending two or three hours on the water, we returned to the bungalow; and whilst they were preparing the rice and curry for our late breakfast, we bathed in the lake—a most convenient bath-house being erected on poles in the water, which serves for a dressing-room to any traveller wishing to enjoy the luxury of a cool plunge.
A pole was pointed out to me by the Mandor, about thirty yards from the house, placed there, he said, to mark the spot where, three months previous to our visit, a labourer was attacked by a tiger as he was returning home from his work. Near it was erected a clumsy-looking trap, in which a kid was nightly confined; but in spite of the tempting bait, the wily tiger had, up to the time of our arrival, proved too wide-awake to be caught.
We arrived at Probolino;o at eight, but notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Mr. H , the Dutch gentleman who had so kindly lent his aid in securing post-horses for us the previous day, would take no refusal of his invitation to dinner. We therefore made a hasty toilette, and spent the rest of the evening most agreeably at his house.
Before leaving this district, we may add, for the information of those Europeans resident in the East who contemplate the culture and manufacture of sugar, that the province of Probolingo is one of the best fields in Java for a practical observation of the process of sugar-making in all its branches.
The harbour of Probolingo is very exposed during some months of the year—especially January and February, when the ghendeng, a stormy wind, blows in hurricanes from the- south, and all vessels near the coast run great danger of being cast on shore. I was told by several Dutch captains, with whom I happened to converse on the subject, that there is a great want of lighthouses on this coast. They have long been promised by the Government, but never yet supplied. In the intricate and narrow straits of Bali, where the currents are strong and variable, and the rocks and shoals unprovided with proper marks for safety, the want of one or more is much felt. The scanty provision made by Government for lighting this narrow passage has given rise to reiterated complaints, which, I was led to understand, had hitherto produced no favourable result.
I have often wondered why European nations have never come to a mutual understanding on the subject of providing lighthouses, &c, on such a coast, or in straits virtually under their own dominion, and known to be dangerous to the navigation of the mercantile marine of all nations. If such a treaty were made, it would prove one of the several means we as a nation are always ready to adopt for averting as much as possible the dangers of the sea.
- ↑ The two first of these names signify certain native measures, the last means death.