small cups of excellent tea. The soft, thick mats, the shelter and comfort
of the building, were well worth the fatigue of our forced march. Fresh
water in earthen jars, with a square wooden ladle floating on the top,
stood ready for us, and there was a kitchen in the rear where our men
could cook conveniently. The Pe-ching came in after sunset and greeted
us with much cordiality. Eggs and fowls were immediately furnished, and,
as at our former camp, all payment was refused. The utmost curiosity
appeared to prevail in the village respecting us, and, as it grew dark, the
circle of heads peering over the wall enclosing the Cung-qua increased
rapidly till there could not have heen less than two or three hundred.
Fires were kindled all around us, and the ruddy glow thrown up by them
and by the torches carried back and forth, flickered brilliantly over the
dusky foliage of the trees.
A watch was set as before, and the mosquitoes being less annoying we
all enjoyed a tolerable rest. The Chinamen were, or feigned to be, completely
spent, and for the greater part of the day the baggage had been
carried by Lew Chew coolies. The patience, good humor, and endurance
of the latter, quite put to shame the worthless and deceitful creatures whom
we had been indiscreet enough to bring with us. The natives kept their
counter-march, and on rising before sunrise the next morning, we found that
fifty or sixty of them had passed the night at their camp fires. The object
of the officer in having a watch kept seemed to be both to prevent any of us
from stealing a march upon them during the night, and to hinder any of the
natives from annoying us.
Mr. Jones made application for a boat to carry us across the bay, but
there was none to be had. The name of the village to which the Cung-qua
belonged was “ Missikya.” We set our little file in motion and proceeded,
by a pleasant path, over level land, a mile or two inland. The cultivation
was thorough, but confined mostly to beans and sweet potatoes. The villages
were so hidden away behind their alleys of tall, arched bamboo that the
police scouts had little need to precede us. A native guard ran ahead ; but
as he constantly took the left-hand road, leading into the middle of the
island, evidently with a view of conducting us back to Sheudi, we finally
halted at the-foot of an isolated hill, covered with wood, and held a consultation.
The wild mountain-range north of Barrow’s Bay now appeared on
our right, and it was plain that our course was leading us away from the
head of the bay, which we desired to reach. We, therefore, turned, in spite
of the protestations of the guide and the Dative officers, and passed around
the eastern brow of the hill, whereon we found two grottoes of soft limestone
rock. The scenery here was a charming mixture of pine forest and cultivated
field; and both in its features and its prevailing hue of dark-green
resembled the landscapes of southern Germany.
In the bottom of the valley was a stream lined with bristling ranks of
the pandanus, or false pine apple. We were obliged to pull off our boots
and wade. We here found a shrub with small white blossoms and bright-
green milky leaves; another with yellow berries of a powerful aromatic
taste ; and a liliaceous plant, with a racine of flowers resembling those of
the snap-dragon, but white in hue, with a fringed lip of the richest orange.
At one of the villages on the plain I noticed the plum and the orange, and
a new variety of the banyan, with very small glossy leaves. Beyond the
stream we struck into fragrant pine woods, and finally into a dense forest,
where the path was still wet and slippery from the rains, and the branches,
meeting overhead, made a perpetual shade. There were few flowers, and
still fewer birds, in this wilderness. In fact, the scarcity of birds all over
the island, considering that they are not destroyed by the natives, is rather
singular. The day was very clear and hot, and the trees, while they shaded
us, quite shut off the sea breeze. The foliage was almost tropical, consisting
of dense glossy-leaved shrubs and luxuriant ferns, overtopped by woods
of pine. Smaller paths branched off here and there to the distant huts of
the woodmen. After ascending for more than two miles, we crossed a ridge
and the path became gradually more open, exposing a view to the west, over
high hills, covered entirely with eopsewood and patches of pine forest. The
country resembled the wild lands of America. There were swamps in the
hollows, and we began to look out for the wild boars which are said to exist
in this part of the island. Catching another view to the eastward, we
found ourselves near the head of Barrow’s Bay, and after a half hour’s halt,
to rest the coolies, set out again. Our official escort came up during the
halt, much fatigued, but as cordial and good-humored as ever. Indeed,
considering that all their trouble and fatigue was caused by ourselves, we
had every reason to admire the unshaken patience with which they submitted
to our apparently wayward course.
Crossing another hill, we passed down broad, well-trodden paths, shaded
by magnificent arches of-foliage, through a neat village. The houses were
larger than usual, and there was an aspect of greater wealth. Among the
trees was one fifteen feet high, covered with cream-colored blossoms, which
exhaled the fragrance of nutmeg. An avenue of pines led down from this
lovely spot to a narrow plain at the head of Barrow’s Bay. The rice
growing in these parts was very scanty and not yet in head. A large village,
buried in trees, extended for half a mile inland from the sea shore. We took
a path leading down to the beach; but Mr. Jones, who was in advance,
entered the village, where he was very courteously received and twice
presented with tea and pipes. The exhibition of his watch, and a pocket
microscope, excited the unbounded wonder of the natives. The village was
named “ Isitza.”
We forded a salt creek and pitched our noonday camp on a piny knoll,
at the foot of the hills. As Mr. Jones had not arrived, we fastened our flag