pious and well-known philanthropist, Robert Boyle, when the place was under the jurisdiction of the British Government, and was sent forth into various parts of the island. The second school is in the orphan-house, about a mile from the resident, on a piece of high ground sloping towards the bay, of which it has a fine view: in front of this building are several acres of land, substantially walled in with brick, and covered with fruit-trees and vegetables. The boys are educated in this school for agents, writers, &c. The principal articles of export from Bencoolen, to which may be added Trippany or Bichos do Mar, and some edible bird’s-nests, have already been named. Coffee and rice are raised here only in small quantities; they are imported from Padang for home-consumption, and consequently are not articles for export.
All the fruits common to tropical climates, and many which I am assured are not known in any other part of India, flourish here in great abundance. The animal used for domestic labour is the carbou, called here carboo: he resembles the buffalo without any hump between the fore-shoulders: although naturally of a dull, obstinate and capricious nature, he acquires a habit of surprising docility; at the command of his master, he lifts the shafts of the cart with his horns, places the half yoke (which is secured at the end) across his neck, and then stands quietly until he is secured.
I have several times been amused to see three or four children climbing on his neck, and seating themselves on his back, to take a ride. He was easily governed, after they were seated, by a rope which passed through the cartilage of the nose. He is a stout-built and strong animal, but cannot endure much fatigue, and has shorter legs and larger hoofs than the ox, with a thick sinewy neck. The horns of this animal are very large and generally turn backward, being nearly square at the base. Like the hog, he is fond of wallowing in the mire, and embraces every opportunity to cover himself with it—being thus cooled and protected from the heat of the sun, and from troublesome insects.
The bay of Bencoolen is extensive, and so much exposed that, when the sea-breeze commences, it throws in a heavy sea, and renders it impossible to carry off sufficient water for a large number of hands without causing a long delay. Owing to this cause, we were unable readily to obtain the required supply of water; and yams and bread-fruit being scarce, both of which we much needed, we took our departure, leaving instructions for the “Boxer” to follow us to Manila.
DEATH OF THE RESIDENT.
Having taken leave of the very kind and hospitable Mr. Knoerle, the resident, and of his companion, the Rev. W. C. Slingerland Conradi, pastor of the Dutch Church, I shortly found myself once more on board. I have lately received the afflicting intelligence that Mr. Knoerle, while on a journey to Palembang, was murdered at the instigation of some of the principal rajahs of Bencoolen. His body was literally cut in pieces, and then burnt with great exultation, by the perpetrators and their friends. The question naturally occurs, what could have incited the rajahs to commit so atrocious and fiend-like an act? The answer is—revenge, which is always deeply seated in the heart of a Malay.
Mr. Knoerle, imprudently, injured the happiness of many families by his unrestrained passions, and thereby sealed his horrid fate. He should ever have borne in mind that he lived among
“Souls made of fire, and children of the sun,
With whom revenge is virtue.”
CHAPTER III.
SAILING FROM BENCOOLEN—ARRIVAL AT CROKATOA AND FORSAKEN ISLANDS—SCENERY—BEAUTIFUL SUBMARINE GARDEN—BRITISH FRIGATE—ARRIVAL AT ANGIER—SAILING FROM ANGIER—BAY AND CITY OF MANILA—BUILDINGS—POPULATION—PROVISIONS—LABOUR.
On the last day of August, we weighed anchor at nine o’clock in the evening, from Bencoolen bay, and aided by the current and a land breeze, about midnight we once more found ourselves at sea. Owing to light head-winds from the southeast, calms, contrary winds, and violent squalls from the high mountains of Sumatra, accompanied with thunder and lightning, we did not arrive at our anchorage ground, off the north end of the island of Crokatoa, in the straits of Sunda, until the eighth day after our departure from the bay.
At daybreak the following morning, a boat was despatched in search of inhabitants, fresh water, and yams; but, after three or four hours’ search, returned unsuccessful. Two other boats were then sent under the command of the first lieutenant Mr. Cunningham: after a fruitless search, that officer returned at sunset, after visiting Long Island and Crokatoa. It was found difficult to effect a landing any where, owing to a heavy surf and to the coral having extended itself to a considerable distance from the shore. Hot springs only were found on the eastern side of the latter island, one hundred and fifty feet from the shore, boiling furiously up, through many fathoms of water. Early on the succeeding morning, Capt. Geissinger, Lieutenant Fowler of the marines, and myself, left the ship, on a visit to Forsaken island: we flattered ourselves, as we approached the island, that the grateful sound of many a murmuring rill, trickling down its steep and woody sides, was heard by us—but we also were doomed to disappointment; for, on landing, the sound was found to proceed from the singing of locusts, which had obtained undisturbed possession of the island, and were making sad ravages among the tender herbage. “No human footsteps marked the trackless sand.”
In reconnoitring between Forsaken and Crokatoa islands, we were struck with admiration at the great variety, both in form and colour, of an extensive and highly beautiful submarine garden, over which the boat was smoothly and slowly gliding. Corals of every shape and hue were there—some resembling sunflowers and mushrooms; others, cabbages from an inch to three feet in diameter: while a third bore a striking likeness to the rose.
“Some present
Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees,
And shrubs of fairy land: while others shine
Conspicuous, and, in light apparel clad,
And fledged with snowy feathers, nod superb.”
The water was clear as crystal; not the slightest breeze ruffled its glassy surface: the morning sun, having just freed the noble peak of Crokatoa from its misty covering, shone forth with unusual splendour; the sides of the hills, to their lofty summits, were clothed with all the variety of fruit, forest, and flowering trees common to intertropical climates: large flocks of parrots, shaking the dew of night from their downy pinions, were seen wending their way towards the palm-trees, in search of daily food; and monkeys in great variety were commencing their lively gambols amid the wild-mango and orange groves:—again, gazing in delighted wonder beneath us, we viewed the superb scene of plants and flowers of every description, glowing in vivid teints of purple, red, blue, brown, and green—equalling, in richness and variety, the gayest parterre. A variety of small fish, spotted, striped, and ringed, possessing every colour and shade, were sporting in these regions of unsurpassed brilliancy and beauty. It was, apparently, a great gala day; for they were revelling in great ease and luxury, playing all sorts of gambols in their bright sea-homes, unconscious of danger, and taking a full measure of enjoyment, in their unrivalled retreats. That nothing might be wanting to complete this gay scene of Nature’s own choosing, shells of great variety and shelves of coral, possessing every variety in colour, studded the bottom; the superb Harpa, with its ribbed sides and straw-coloured dress, slightly tinged with red and black; the Cyprea or Cowry of almost every variety, covered with an epidermis or thin membrane to protect its highly-polished surface; and many others, which might rival the most delicate porcelain in whiteness and smoothness: there lay the warlike Chiton, encased in his black coat-of-mail, ready for battle, or adhering to the shell of a large Triton—the latter having closed the entrance to his castle by a thick marble valve, which Nature had provided as a protection against an enemy, or a barrier against the rough beatings of a boisterous sea. Above, beneath, around us—all was in harmony.
A solemn stillness—broken only occasionally by the diving of a huge turtle, the harsh note of the wild seabird, the singing of locusts, or the shrill cry of the tiger-cat—reigned every where in the narrow strait which separates the two islands. Disappointed in receiving the so-much-needed supply of water and provisions, we