seemed probable that the Salón could pilot us by an
easier route to the lake whose existence we had discovered.
The first light of the dawn showed me a
Salon boat lashed under the bows of the launch, the
sea-cunny in possession. We climbed once again up
the sharp pinnacles, and looked on the hidden waters ;
but descent to them on the farther side was impossible.
We turned back, somewhat torn as to our hands and
feet, and rowed away to the cave, as interesting as it
was. the night before, but less tragic now in character.
The hoarse lapping of the sea was still there, but the
sun, stealing in under the stalagmites, counteracted its
suggestion. The water was now a beautiful translucent
green, and the roof was lit with dancing water-gleams.
The Salón informed me that, through this cave at low
water, I could enter the hidden lake. In the direction
of the passage, still invisible, there was silence ; the
roar came only from the blind walls, where the sea
could find no entry. Through this passage the sea
enters and retreats, and the evil genius of the lake
gorges and disgorges daily. At spring tides the mouth
of the cave is filled to the roof, and there is no passage.
Coming away, till the waning of the tide should
serve my purpose, I made a tour of the island, and
entered another cave, called Gwa Chee Boh. It lies to
the east, and is overhung by sheer and tragic cliffs, from
which great stalactites depend, threatening to fall upon
the intruder. Long ropes of rattan, leading up into
secret places, and now rotting with half a year’s disuse,
show that the cave is visited. The Salón on beinooquestioned
disclaimed, with a sort of awe, their ever
exploiting these cliffs for nests. They were too ignorant,
they said, to find the nests, and too fearful of falling
AT VICTORIA POINT
down from the great heights, to attempt to do so. But
the Malay come twice a year from Pulo-Penang and
climb up. They bring dammer torches with them, and
remain within the inner cave ten days, getting shut in
there by the sea ; and collect six gunny bags of nests.
It is a ‘ fearful place, where men fall and are killed.
Formerly it was worked by Burmans, and the cave is
named after one who fell and broke his back here.
The sea-cunny, who extracted this information by
slow degrees, sent torth volumes of amazement at
hearing that for ten days the Malay went in and came
not out. And it is easy to picture the wild scene within,
when these men are at work ; the roaring echoes that