CHAPTER XIV.

Passage to the Strait of Sunda-Centennial Anniversary of Washington's Birthday -Patriotic Reflections-Enter the Strait-Prince's Island-Java Head-Flat Point-Keyser's Bay-Lampoon Bay-Rajah Bassa Peak-Hog Point-Mew Bay and Island-Pepper Bay-Anger Roads and village-Cap and ButtonBantam, or St. Nicholas' Point-Shores of Bantam-Beautiful Prospect-Bantam Hill, bay, town, and villages-Traffic with the natives-Perilous adventure of the Commodore-The Thousand Islands-Burial of the dead-The Potomac anchors in Batavia Roads-Beacons in the Strait of Sunda.

As stated at the conclusion of the preceding chapter, the Potomac left the coast of Sumatra on Saturday, the eighteenth day of February, eighteen hundred and thirty-two, and for four days afterward was constantly tantalized with light and variable winds. Although at considerable distance from land, on the morning of Wednesday, the twenty-second, and within the usual range of the regular monsoon, the latter was found to be so much affected by the influence of alternate land and seabreezes, that the frigate. was virtually deprived of the benefit of both. Hence, she was almost constantly becalmed, and the slightest breeze was hailed as a welcome visiter-all hands running on deck to meet it.

Besides, this day, the twenty-second of February, eighteen hundred and thirty-two, was the centennial anniversary of the birth of Washington! How many manly and patriotic hearts on board that gallant ship, were throbbing with fervid emotion, responsive to the reflections which naturally suggested themselves! -"What a glorious day is this, in our own country, where it is consecrated by patriotism, and hallowed by the gratitude of millions of independent freemen! What multitudes are now met together, indulging in pleasing recollections of the past, and in fond anticipations of the future! A century! One hundred years! What a little point in the annals of time!-what a small space in the age of a nation! What was our country, and what were we as a people one hundred years ago! What changes-what eventful vicissitudes. have we passed through! If true to ourselves, what high destinies await us!

666

"O Washington! dearest and best of our race,

Thy deeds through the night-cloud of ages shall lighten;

Thy name on his banner the soldier shall trace,

To hallow his death, or his triumph to brighten.'"-Sprague.

"Insulated and distant as we are from our homes and the soulexciting ceremonies and festivities of the day,-with nearly the whole diameter of the globe between us-still we exult in the proud name and privileges of American citizens, and feel that the national tie which binds us to that beloved region, strengthens by distance. Though antipodes to those of our joyful countrymen who are now united in celebrating the birthday of Washington, we are with them in heart, and warmly embrace them with the arms of affection, gratitude, and patriotism. We pledge them in the deep musings of the silent heart; and between the change of watch, and the pressure of a tropical sun, we honour the day as well as our nautical duties will permit."

Such doubtless were the unexpressed feelings of many on this interesting occasion; neither were the brave tars forgotten, on whose valour and steadiness the efficacy and glory of our navy depend. They were treated by the commodore to an extra exhilarating draught; or, in language more technically correct, they were all called to "splice the main brace."

But they were recalled from the pleasing visions of their distant homes and national festivities, by the sadder duties incidental to their present situation. The sick-list had begun to swell on board the Potomac, and now comprised more invalids than it had at any former period since she left the United States. Some of these new cases were dysentery,-that ruthless scourge of seamen in the East Indies, and brought on, perhaps, in this instance, by change of diet, and drinking the river-water of Sumatra; but all things considered, the ship's crew might even then be termed very healthy.

From the last-mentioned date until the first of March, the Potomac stood along the outer channel, from the north, almost constantly beset by squalls, particularly for the last two or three days. But even these changes were acceptable, as they cooled the air, and relieved the redundant pulse and throbbing temple. On Thursday, the first of March, the wind was again fresh and steady, so that the ship was once more throwing the spray and

curling the water under her bows, in the fine style of ten knots an hour. In the evening, land was again announced from aloft, which proved to be the Island of Engano, the most southerly of the large islands on the west side of Sumatra. We lay to during the night with the maintopsail to the mast. On the following morning we again made sail, and stood for the Strait of Sunda, which has two channels leading into it from the northward :viz., the small channel between the west end of Java and Prince's Island, and the great channel to the north of this island, between it and the south coast of Sumatra.

The channel between Prince's Island and Java Head is about four miles wide. This island, which is called by the natives. Pulo Poutaugh, is the largest of any at the mouth of the strait, and yet not more than five leagues in extent, lying in latitude 6° 30' south, and longitude 105° 10' east. Near its centre are some hills of moderate elevation, but near the shores the land is low, particularly on the west side, fronting the open sea. The Dutch were formerly in the habit of traversing this narrow channel, considering it the safer passage of the two. Many ships continue to do the same, although the other and wider channel between Prince's Island and Crockatoa is most generally frequented.

At eight o'clock on the morning of Friday, the second of March, Java Head was in sight; but did not present, as was expected, the appearance of a high bluff or promontory, although elevated land was seen over it, which may have been often taken for Java Head itself. A little to the eastward of it the land is also high, with steep cliffs facing the sea.

Java Head lies in latitude 6°48' south, and longitude 105° 11' east, and 1° 41' west from the city of Batavia. The coast of Sumatra, in a soft blue mist, was visible on the west, and the strait was expanding directly ahead, to the northeast. At this moment a wreck was reported, which brought all hands on deck. The unfortunate stranger could be distinctly seen lying on her beam ends, with stump-topmasts extending out horizontally. Even the suffering survivers could be distinctly discerned clinging to the helmless hull, and the sympathies of all were quite awakened, as the Potomac's course was altered to bear down upon it. This amiable excitement, however, was but of short duration; as, on nearing the object of solicitude, it proved to be the trunk of a large pal

metto-tree, which had loomed so largely that all were astonished at the deception.

A most beautiful and perfectly-defined circle appeared round the sun this morning, of a dark cloudy colour, with its edges tinged with the brightest yellow and pink. Some say that this phenomenon is indicative of a gale. Such an appearance around the moon, we believe, is always considered, both by seamen and landsmen, as the precursor or premonitory symptom of an impending storm. Thus Falconer, in his beautiful nautical poem of the Shipwreck—(a dreadful disaster, in which the poet himself was a participator and one of the few survivers)-describes the phenomenon alluded to in the following lines:

"The waning moon, behind a watery shroud,
Pale glimmered o'er the long protracted cloud;
A mighty ring around her silver throne,

With parting meteors cross'd, portentous shone;
This in the troubled sky full oft prevails,

Oft deemed a signal of tempestuous gales."

By noon, Prince's Island was close aboard, and the Island of Crockatoa began faintly to pencil its outlines on the distant horizon. About four P. M., the wind hauled aft, and directly into the strait. The frigate was now standing up the passage, before the wind, with yards across, and the breeze fresh, moving at the rate of twelve knots, all steering sails set, and the water foaming and curling around her bows. The ship's band was playing in a lively and animating style. Every officer and man was at his post on deck, land was in view on every side, comprising some of the most picturesque landscapes in nature. On the left, the great Island of Sumatra was expanding her arms as if to meet the similar advances of her neighbour Java, while a numerous progeny of lovely little islands were smiling between them-the clouds above, at the same time, arched with several rainbows, the effect of different squalls. In one word, the coup-d'œil of the picture was beautiful beyond description; and though perhaps not equal in grandeur and sublimity to the mountain scenery which surrounds and enriches the view at Rio Janeiro, yet in softness, gayety, and mellowness of appearance, it is not inferior to that or any other in the world.

Our frigate had now fairly entered this highly interesting pas

sage, called the Strait of Sunda, which is formed by the near approximation of Java to Sumatra, the western extremity of the one approaching to within a few leagues of the southeastern extremity of the other. These two extensive, but comparatively narrow islands, were probably once united at the point where this very passage now exists; and this supposition is strengthened by the fact, that the channel between them is speckled with numerous little islands of various dimensions. This strait is between fifty and sixty miles in length, and varying from twenty to fourteen in breadth. The features of the two grand islands are presented to the spectator while passing between them, and distinguished by the peculiar luxuriance, softness, and amenity of their native teints of verdure. On both these great islands, and particularly on Sumatra, which forms the western boundary of the strait, all is vegetation and verdure-all repose-all silent, monotonous, and unvarying; there is no particular point for the eye to rest on. Like the new and virgin isles of the west, when first discovered by Columbus, the prospect presents one continued extent of soft and luxuriant green-communicating refreshment to the eye, but conveying no cheering sentiment to the heart. Such to the first man might have been the aspect of the earth prior to the formation of his helpmate. It is associated with such a cheerless idea of solitude, of loneliness, and of the total absence of social affections and intercourse, that one might well exclaim with the poet

"✶✶✶✶ Woman-oh woman! whose form and whose soul,
Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;
Whether sunned in the tropic, or chilled at the pole,

If woman be there, there is happiness too."

On directing the eye to the east side of the strait, the coast of Java (particularly the shore of Bantam) presents a different aspect. The forests have been broken in upon by the arts of civilization, and the intermediate patches of cleared ground exhibit evident testimony of the progress of agriculture, imparting variety and beauty to the prospect, and teaching the wanderer to feel that civilized beings are near him, ready to participate with him in those social enjoyments, debarred from which every place is a desert.

The wind had slackened some, but still our well-trimmed vessel