Himalayan Journals, vol 2 - J. D. Hooker (bill gates best books txt) 📗

rains cease in the end of October (on the 8th of November in 1849, and 12th of

November in 1850, the latest epoch ever remembered): there is no land or sea breeze along any part of the coast. During our stay we found the mean temperature for twelve observations to be precisely that of Calcutta, but the humidity was more, and the pressure 0.040 1ower.]

We left Noacolly on the 19th for Chittagong; the state of the tide

obliging us to go on board in the night. The distance is only 100

miles, but the passage is considered dangerous at this time (during the spring-tides) and we were therefore provided with a large vessel and an experienced crew. The great object in this navigation is to

keep afloat and to make progress towards the top of the tide and

during its flood, and to ground during the ebb in creeks where the

bore (tidal wave) is not violent; for where the channels are broad

and open, the height and force of this wave rolls the largest

coasting craft over and swamps them.

Our boatmen pushed out at 3 in the morning, and brought up at 5, in a narrow muddy creek on the island of Sidhee. The waters retired along channels scooped several fathoms deep in black mud, leaving our

vessel aground six or seven feet below the top of the bank, and soon afterwards there was no water to be seen; as far as the eye could

reach, all was a glistening oozy mud, except the bleak level surfaces of the islands, on which neither shrub nor tree grew. Soon after 2

p.m. a white line was seen on the low black horizon, which was the

tide-wave, advancing at the rate of five miles an hour, with a hollow roar; it bore back the mud that was gradually slipping along the

gentle slope, and we were afloat an hour after: at night we grounded again, opposite the mouth of the Fenny.

By moonlight the scene was oppressively solemn: on all sides the

gurgling waters kept up a peculiar sound that filled the air with

sullen murmurs; the moonbeams slept upon the slimy surface of the

mud, and made the dismal landscape more ghastly still. Silence

followed the ebb, broken occasionally by the wild whistle of a bird like the curlew, of which a few wheeled through the air: till the

harsh roar of the bore was heard, to which the sailors seemed to

waken by instinct. The waters then closed in on every side, and the far end of the reflected moonbeam was broken into flashing light,

that approached and soon danced beside the boat.

We much regretted not being able to obtain any more accurate data

than I have given, as to the height of the tide at the mouth of the Fenny; but where the ebb sometimes retires twenty miles from

high-water mark, it is obviously impossible to plant any tide-gauge.

On the 21st we were ashore at daylight on the Chittagong coast far

north of the station, and were greeted by the sight of hills on the horizon: we were lying fully twenty feet below high-water mark, and the tide was out for several miles to the westward. The bank was

covered with flocks of white geese feeding on short grass, upon what appeared to be detached islets on the surface of the mud.

These islets, which are often an acre in extent, are composed of

stratified mud; they have perpendicular sides several feet high, and convex surfaces, owing to the tide washing away the earth from under their sides; and they were further slipping seawards, along the

gently sloping mud-beach. Few or no shells or seaweed were to be

seen, nor is it possible to imagine a more lifeless sea than these

muddy coasts present.

We were three days and nights on this short voyage, without losing

sight of mud or land. I observed the barometer whenever the boat was on the shore, and found the mean of six readings (all reduced to the same level) to be identical with that at Calcutta. These being all

taken at elevations lower than that of the Calcutta observatory, show either a diminished atmospheric pressure, or that the mean level of high-water is not the same on the east and west coasts of the Bay of Bengal: this is quite possible, considering the widely different

direction of the tides and currents on each, and that the waters may be banked up, as it were, in the narrow channels of the western

Sunderbunds. The temperature of the air was the same as at Calcutta, but the atmosphere was damper. The water was always a degree warmer than the air.

We arrived at Chittagong on the 23rd of December, and became the

guests of Mr. Sconce, Judge of the district, and of Mr. Lautour; to both of whom we were greatly indebted for their hospitality and

generous assistance in every way.

Chittagong is a large town of Mahometans and Mugs, a Birmese tribe

who inhabit many parts of the Malay peninsula, and the coast to the northward of it. The town stands on the north shore of an extensive delta, formed by rivers from the lofty mountains separating this

district from Birma. These mountains are fine objects on the horizon, rising 4000 to 8000 feet; they are forest-clad, and inhabited by

turbulent races, who are coterminous with the Cookies of the Cachar and Tipperah forests; if indeed they be not the same people.

The mountains abound with the splendid timber-trees of the Cachar

forests, but like these are said to want teak, Sal, and Sissoo; they have, besides many others,, magnificent Gurjun trees

(Dipterocarpi), the monarchs of the forests of these coasts.

The natives of Chittagong are excellent shipbuilders and active

traders, and export much rice and timber to Madras and Calcutta.

The town is large and beautifully situated, interspersed with trees and tanks; the hills resemble those of Silhet, and are covered with a similar vegetation: on these the European houses are built.

The climate is very healthy, which is not remarkable, considering how closely it approximates in character to that of Silhet and other

places in Eastern Bengal, but very extraordinary, if it be compared with Arracan, only 200 miles further south, which is extremely

unhealthy. The prominent difference between the physical features of Chittagong and Arracan, is the presence of mangrove swamps at the

latter place, for which the water is too fresh at the former.

The hills about the station are not more than 150 or 200 feet high, and are formed of stratified gravel, sand, and clay, that often

becomes nodular, and is interstratified with slag-like iron clay.

Fossil wood is found; and some of the old buildings about Chittagong contain nummulitic limestone, probably imported from Silhet or the

peninsula of India, with which countries there is no such trade now.

The views are beautiful, of the blue mountains forty to fifty miles distant, and the many-armed river, covered with sails, winding

amongst groves of cocoa-nuts, Areca palm, and yellow rice fields.

Good European houses surmount all the eminences, surrounded by trees of Acacia and Caesalpinia. In the hollows are native huts amidst vegetation of every hue, glossy green Garciniae and figs, broad

plantains, feathery Cassia and Acacias, dark Mesua, red-purple

Terminalia, leafless scarlet-flowered Bombax, and grey

Casuarina.* [This, which is almost exclusively an Australian genus, is not indigenous at Chittagong: to it belongs an extra-Australian

species common in the Malay islands, and found wild as far north as Arracan.] Seaward the tide leaves immense flats, called churs, which stretch for many miles on either side the offing.

We accompanied Mr. Sconce to a bungalow which he has built at the

telegraph station at the south head of the harbour: its situation, on a hill 100 feet above the sea, is exposed, and at this season the

sea-breeze was invigorating, and even cold, as it blew through the

mat-walls of the bungalow.* [The mean temperature of the two days

(29th and 30th) we spent at this bungalow was 66.5 degrees, that of Calcutta being 67.6 degrees; the air was damp, and the barometer

0.144 lower at the flagstaff hill, but it fell and rose with the

Calcutta instrument.] To the south, undulating dunes stretch along

the coast, covered with low bushes, of which a red-flowered

Melastoma is the most prevalent,* [Melastoma, jasmine, Calamus, AEgle Marmelos, Adelia, Memecylon, Ixora, Limostoma, Congea,

climbing Coesalpinia, and many other plants; and along their bases large trees of Amoora, Gaurea, figs, Mesua, and Micromelon.]

and is considered a species of Rhododendron by many of the

residents! The flats along the beach are several miles broad,

intersected with tidal creeks, and covered with short grass, while

below high-water mark all is mud, coated with green Conferva.

There are no leafy seaweeds or mangroves, nor any seaside shrub but Dilivaria ilicifolia. Animal life is extremely rare; and a

Cardium-like shell and small crab are found sparingly.

Coffee has been cultivated at Chittagong with great success; it is

said to have been introduced by Sir W. Jones, and Mr. Sconce has a

small plantation, from which his table is well supplied. Both Assam and Chinese teas flourish, but Chinamen are wanted to cure the

leaves. Black pepper succeeds admirably, as do cinnamon, arrowroot, and ginger.

Early in January we accompanied Mr. Lautour on an excursion to the

north, following a valley separated from the coast by a range of

wooded hills, 1000 feet high. For several marches the bottom of this valley was broad, flat, and full of villages. At Sidhee, about

twenty-five miles from Chittagong, it contracts, and spurs from the hills on either flank project into the middle: they are 200 to 300

feet high, formed of red clay, and covered with brushwood. At

Kajee-ke-hath, the most northern point we reached, we were quite

amongst these hills, and in an extremely picturesque country,

intersected by long winding flat valleys, that join one another: some are full of copsewood, while others present the most beautiful

park-like scenery, and a third class expand into grassy marshes or

lake-beds, with wooded islets rising out of them. The hillsides are clothed with low jungle, above which tower magnificent Gurjun trees (wood-oil). The whole contour of this country is that of a low bay, whose coast is raised above the sea, and over which a high tide once swept for ages.

The elevation of Hazari-ke-hath is not 100 feet above the level of

the sea. It is about ten miles west of the mouth of the Fenny, from which it is separated by hills 1000 feet high; its river falls into that at Chittagong, thirty miles south. Large myrtaceous trees

(Eugenia) are common, and show a tendency to the Malayan flora,

which is further demonstrated by the abundance of Gurjun

(Dipterocarpus turbinatus). This is the most superb tree we met

with in the Indian forests: we saw several species, but this is the only common one here; it is conspicuous for its gigantic size, and

for the straightness and graceful form of its tall unbranched pale

grey trunk, and small symmetrical crown: many individuals were

upwards of 200 feet high, and fifteen in girth. Its leaves are broad, glossy, and beautiful; the flowers (then falling) are not

conspicuous; the wood is hard, close-grained, and durable, and a

fragrant oil exudes from the trunk, which is extremely valuable as

pitch and varnish, etc., besides being a good medicine. The natives procure it by cutting transverse holes in the trunk, pointing

downwards, and lighting fires in them, which causes the oil to flow.*

[The other trees of these dry forests are many oaks, _Henslowia,

Gordonia, Engelhardtia, Duabanga, Adelia, Byttneria, Bradleia, and large trees of _Pongamia, whose seeds yield a useful oil.]

Illustration--GURJUN TREE.

On the