Our first stopping place was Coupang, at the west end of the large
island of Timor. We then coasted along that island for several hundred
miles, having always a view of hilly ranges covered with scanty
vegetation, rising ridge behind ridge to the height of six or seven
thousand feet. Turning off towards Banda we passed Pulo-Cambing, Wetter,
and Roma, all of which are desolate and barren volcanic islands, almost
as uninviting as Aden, and offering a strange contrast to the usual
verdure and luxuriance of the Archipelago. In two days more we reached
the volcanic group of Banda, covered with an unusually dense and
brilliant green vegetation, indicating that we had passed beyond the
range of the hot dry winds from the plains of Central Australia. Banda
is a lovely little spot, its three islands enclosing a secure harbour
from whence no outlet is visible, and with water so transparent, that
living corals and even the minutest objects are plainly seen on the
volcanic sand at a depth of seven or eight fathoms. The ever smoking
volcano rears its bare cone on one side, while the two larger islands
are clothed with vegetation to the summit of the hills.
Going on shore, I walked up a pretty path which leads to the highest
point of the island on which the town is situated, where there is a
telegraph station and a magnificent view. Below lies the little town,
with its neat red-tiled white houses and the thatched cottages of the
natives, bounded on one side by the old Portuguese fort. Beyond, about
half a mile distant, lies the larger island in the shape of a horseshoe,
formed of a range of abrupt hills covered with fine forest and nutmeg
gardens; while close opposite the town is the volcano, forming a nearly
perfect cone, the lower part only covered with a light green bushy
vegetation. On its north side the outline is more uneven, and there is
a slight hollow or chasm about one-fifth of the way down, from which
constantly issue two columns of smoke, as well as a good deal from the
rugged surface around and from some spots nearer the summit. A white
efflorescence, probably sulphur, is thickly spread over the upper part
of the mountain, marked by the narrow black vertical lines of water
gullies. The smoke unites as it rises, and forms a dense cloud, which in
calm, damp weather spreads out into a wide canopy hiding the top of the
mountain. At night and early morning, it often rises up straight and
leaves the whole outline clear.
It is only when actually gazing on an active volcano that one can fully
realize its awfulness and grandeur. Whence comes that inexhaustible
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