CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
Table of Contents The east coast of Madagascar, the first portion of the island usually seen by English and French travellers, possesses few attractions. It consists of an undulating plain, which is, in general, twenty miles broad. Along its western side the hills rise as a fine background to a very simple picture; first in long, low banks of clay, rounded and worn by streams; then in a mighty wall, covered with forest, which stretches away north and south as far as the eye can reach. Behind these noble hills, with their precipitous passes, lie the central provinces of the island, held by the ruling races, and by the largest portion of the population. These hills, and the ring of empty land which they bear upon their shoulders, are the defence of the interior tribes against foreign aggression. French colonists and adventurers of former generations tried in vain to hold forts upon the coast, and to establish a title to a permanent possession of some of its districts; but the lack of population, the constant fevers, and the consequent drain upon their own resources, rendered that hold feeble: and when at length the interior tribes had grown strong, and, under Radáma and his father, had become united under one authority, it was an easy task for them to march down to the east coast, and sweep away all opposition to the establishment of a single government, by which all the population should be headed and controlled.
The northern districts of the east coast beyond Tamatave are thinly peopled. Within twenty miles are the towns of Tintingy, Foule Point, and Fenoarivo, all of moderate size. In the fertile bottoms, abundance of rice is grown, and the cattle are numerous around the lower hills. Coal is said to exist near the head of Antongil Bay, though its extent and its quality are not known. Beyond this point the forest comes down to the coast; and north of 17° lat. S. there exist only forests, and a few good harbours. In the forest and beyond it, even on the east coast, all through Vohimáry, the population is Sakaláva, and has been derived from the west side of the island. The line of the east coast, from St. Mary's southward, is very straight. As a rule, for three miles and more inland, it consists of a bed of sand, thrown up from the sea by the rough surf, and by the strong south-east winds; hence the absence of harbours, the open roadsteads, and the danger and delay which occur in communicating with the shore. On the other hand, the sandy deposit has closed the mouths of the numerous streams running from the hills, has caused the accumulation of water in pleasant lakes and lagoons, and has provided means for a system of inland navigation four hundred miles long, greatly surpassing in convenience and safety the coast transit on the open sea. Some day, the existing barriers to this navigation will be removed, the schemes of Radáma will be revived, and this fine line of inland canals will be rendered complete. The outlay required cannot be very great.
The traveller who would pass from the coast of Madagascar into the interior, in order to visit the capital, should be prepared for one thing,-that the conveniences and comforts of his journey must be provided by himself. He will find on the way no hotels, no furnished rooms for resting, eating, or sleeping; he will find no beds and no chairs, no crockery, no teapot, no knives and forks, no linen, and no spoons; he can buy neither tea, nor coffee, nor milk, neither salt nor sugar, neither butter nor bread; all these things he must provide for himself, and he had better purchase them in London before he starts. My colleague and I knew these facts beforehand; my correspondence with the missionaries had long rendered me familiar with the details and experiences of their many journeys; and to be forewarned was to be forearmed. We took with us, therefore, to Madagascar strong portable beds, with their bedding complete, portable chairs, a canteen, with plates and cups of enamelled iron, and spoons and knives that would not spoil by rough usage. We carried our tea and coffee, cocoa and sugar, our milk (in tins), and butter and bread (from Tamatave). We also had with us two small tents. We lightened our camp by sending forward our heavy baggage, and the stores not needed on the journey, under the charge of separate men. So provided, we enjoyed a very interesting and pleasant journey.
We left Tamatave on Tuesday, August 19, and for two days kept southward along the coast, with the purpose of reaching Andevoranto, where the road to the capital turns off into the interior. Our three palankeens required twenty-two men, and our baggage had twenty-six. I need not dwell at any length on our journey, for it has often been described by Mr. Ellis, by Mr. Sibree, and several of the missionaries; by Captain Oliver, and other military men. Its features have been carefully detailed, its stopping-stations are well known; and the experiences of one traveller, rough, serious, or amusing, have generally proved to be those of every other.
There is no road, properly so called, along the coast; we just followed a path, more or less broad, over the grassy glades, through patches of wood, or across the bare sand. Cocoanuts, plantains, a few palms, the fir, and the pandanus, were the usual trees,-familiar friends to me of years gone by,-but many trees were quite new. Passing through the village of Hivondro, we crossed the river, which here cuts through the sand-belt, and flows into the sea. Traversing fine, open glades, the bordering banks of which were beautifully curved, we came out upon the beach, and, for a long way, toiled over the dunes, or trode the firm, wet sand, upon which, with ceaseless roar, the long waves poured out their hissing foam. The coast was lined with the filao, a fir-tree closely resembling the casuarina, which grows well in Bengal, where it is known as the Sumatra fir. The filao is, however, native to Madagascar; its feathery hair hangs gracefully over its gnarled and knotted branches, and, with the strong winds, makes pleasant music. Fine clumps of these graceful trees continued all the way. Here and there the ferns appeared with strong fronds, and the leaves and branches of the pandanus were of great length.
A little north of Vavony, rocky hills, covered with wood, come down to the coast, and the inner lagoons are driven into the sea. We traversed one of these lagoons in a canoe for about three miles, and met with a strange experience. The lagoon was bounded by high hills, and at the bottom the mangrove was very thick. The water was not very deep, but it was full of small water-lilies, the leaves of which, on their under side, were a crimson pink in colour. The flower also was crimson. The water at first had a brilliant red tint, but, ere long, it became deeper, and it seemed to us all as if we were sailing on a river of blood. As the lagoon ended, the colour changed to a rich red gold.
Landing once more, we travelled to the clean village of Vavony, over a piece of country, which had all the appearance of a beautiful park. It contained sloping banks crowned with fir trees. Here stood the tree fern, and there the bamboo palm: here were fine specimens of the india-rubber tree with its glossy leaves; there tall, thick badamiers with their leaves of crimson; and there the path was arched by the pandanus. From some lofty trees hung huge, black, bees' nests: the trunks of others were adorned with the Angræcum orchids, with their long spray of twelve white flowers; and from the strongest hung enormous creepers. Everywhere, winding in and out among the trees was the open grassy glade, on which a fine herd of red cattle was grazing.
From Vavony we had a canoe, and while the baggage kept the road, for ten miles we traversed a broad, still lagoon. It was bordered with high banks, covered with trees: and with two paddles, worked by strong arms, we had a delightful row to the village of Menarána, where we slept at the end of our second day. Early the following morning, we reached the Church Mission Station at Andevoranto, and put up in the empty mission-house. What a treat it was to spend a quiet day! We occupied the hours profitably, in readjusting baggage and stores, on the basis of the experience we had gained during our first two days' travel. We also had pleasant interviews with members of the two congregations in this place and neighbourhood, and heard much from them respecting their religious wants. They are at present without a missionary. In the evening we had a heavy downpour of rain.
Continuing our journey on Friday morning, we turned our face at once towards the mountains: and for four hours we travelled in canoes up the river Ihároka and one of its tributaries. The river was two hundred yards broad, and the current, in its lower portion, ran about three miles an hour. Near Andevoranto, both sides of the river have great swamps, in which we saw growing many hundreds of the noble arum lily, the Astrapcæa Wallichii, with its thick trunk and broad scolloped leaves. Farther inland we came upon a row of the plants bearing the first flowers of the season: and they were in size and beauty so splendid, that a botanist like Mr. Ellis might well speak of them with enthusiasm. Our men paddled the canoe with spirit, and like boatmen in India, enlivened and regulated their stroke with measured cries and songs. Our water trip was exceedingly pleasant; light showers fell at intervals, producing numerous rainbows; beautiful flowers were growing on the banks, and birds of coloured plumage flew around us.
After a two hours run on a straight course, we came to the roots of the first hills; the river narrowed to a width of a hundred yards, the stream grew stronger,...
