The earliest experiment in cultivating rubber was made only as far back as the seventies of last century. And it is only within the present century that cultivated rubber, or, as it is more generally called, “plantation rubber,” has become a power in the industrial world.

The hero of the romantic story of that earliest experiment is Mr. H.A. Wickham. After long and careful study of Wild Rubber-trees in the Brazilian forests, Mr. Wickham came to the conclusion that it would be possible to cultivate these valuable trees, and that the Eastern Tropics would prove particularly suitable as a home for their adoption. Experienced agriculturists and everyone connected with the rubber business looked upon these ideas as the wild dreams of a man who had more imagination than sense.

Nothing daunted, Mr. Wickham determined that at least he would put to the test his theory that rubber seeds sown by man would grow quite as well as seeds scattered by the trees themselves, provided they were reared in suitable soil and in a similar climate to that of their forest home. He began to plant seeds of the Hevea tree in Brazil, turning into a nursery for them a piece of ground near to where he was living at the time.

Little did he think then that the day was not far distant when he would be given an opportunity of putting his theory to the test on a very much bigger scale, and in the East, too. In 1871 this energetic pioneer had published a book entitled “Rough Notes of a Journey through the Wilderness,” wherein were included drawings, made by himself, of the leaf, seed-pod, and seed of the Hevea brasiliensis. These drawings came under the notice of Sir Joseph Hooker, who was then Director of Kew Gardens, and attracted his attention to the subject of rubber cultivation. Sir Joseph soon became keenly interested in Mr. Wickham’s ideas. Not only did he favour the theory that rubber-trees could be cultivated, but he fully agreed that the Eastern Tropics would make a capital experimental nursery for them, and thought that the East ought not to neglect so promising a possibility of agricultural development. He managed to win for the cause of rubber cultivation its third supporter, Sir Clements Markham of the India Office. Sir Clements, in his turn, did his best to interest his colleagues in the proposed new branch of agriculture, with the result that in 1876 the Indian Government agreed to find the money for the introduction into India of “the tree which produced the true 'Para’ rubber of commerce.”

Mr. Wickham, who was still living in the up-country region of Brazil, was deputed to carry out the commission. His instructions were to obtain a large number of Hevea seeds, and get them delivered to the Indian Government. Although he was not hampered by any restrictions as to ways or means, this was a difficult enough task. The seeds would have to be collected at the particular season when they ripen; they would have to be very carefully packed for their journey so that they should not get damp, and yet should obtain enough ventilation to keep them alive; they must not be very long out of the ground; and, if anyhow possible, they must be got out of the country without the Government of Brazil knowing what was happening, for the authorities might say they would not allow them to be taken away.

If Brazil had known what a certain ship which left the country in the early part of 1876 was carrying, and if she had guessed what a revolution in the rubber world its cargo was destined to bring about, there is little doubt but that she would have seen to it that no Hevea seeds ever went to foreign lands.

But I am anticipating a state of affairs which is present-day history. Here, in his own words, is the romantic story of how Mr. Wickham accomplished his task.

“Whilst I was still boxing about for, or to find, some practicable way, the few European planters in that remote locality were surprised and startled by news of the arrival on the great river of a fully-equipped ocean liner. This was not a little added to on receipt of an invitation to a dinner on board the ss. Amazonas, Captain Murray, as the first of the new line of 'Inman Line Steamships, Liverpool to the Alto-Amazon direct.’ The thing was well done. The ship’s boats took us off at Santarem, and we found the ship dressed out in blue lights. We were entertained by the two gentlemen, as in charge of 'inauguration of the new line.’ We had an altogether unlooked-for good evening on board, with a well-appointed supper in the saloon. The following day she went on her way for the Upper Amazon. I then thought no more about the episode in rumination on any conceivable means of effecting my purpose with regard to getting out a stock of the Para rubber-tree; and the more anxiously as I knew the season for the ripening of the seed on the trees in the forest to be drawing near.

“Then occurred one of those chances such as a man has to take at top-tide or lose for ever.

“The startling news came down the river that our fine ship, the Amazonas, had been abandoned, and left on the captain’s hands, after having been stripped by the two gentlemen supercargoes (our late hospitable entertainers!), and that without so much as a stick of cargo for return voyage to Liverpool. I determined to plunge for it. It seemed to present an occasion either 'to make my spoon or to spoil the horn.’ It was true I had no cash on hand out there, and to realize on an incipient plantation, in such a place and situation, was quite out of the question. The seed was even then beginning to ripen on the trees in the Monte alto—the high forest. I knew that Captain Murray must be in a fix, so I wrote to him, boldly chartering the ship on behalf of the Government of India; and I appointed to meet him at the junction of the Tapajos and Amazon Rivers by a certain date.

“There was no time to lose. Hurriedly getting an Indian canoe, posting up the right coast of the Tapajos, and traversing the broad river—rather ticklish work in a small canoe at that season—I struck back from the left shore for the deep woods, the Monte alto, wherein I knew were to be found the big, full-grown Hevea trees....

“Working with as many TapÜyo Indians as I could get together at short notice, I daily ranged the forest, and packed on our backs in Indian pannier baskets as heavy loads of seeds as we could march down under. I was working against time. Sometimes, however, during times of rest, I would sit down and look into the leafy arches above, and as I gazed, become lost in the wonderful beauty of the upper system overhead—a world of life complete within itself. This is the abode of strange forms of life, strangely plumaged birds, and elfish little ti-ti monkeys, which never descend to the dark soil throughout their lives, but swing and gambol in the aËrial gardens of dainty forms and sweet-smelling orchids, for every great tree supports an infinite variety of plant life. All overhead seemed the very exuberance of animal and vegetable existence, and below, its contrast—decay and darkness. Here and there a mass of orchid, carried from above by the fall of some withered branch, sickening into pallor, thrust out from the vitalizing air and life above.

“I got the TapÜyo village maids to make up open-work baskets or crates of split Calamus canes for receiving the seed, first, however, being careful to have them slowly but well dried on mats in the shade, before they were put away with layers of dried wild banana leaf betwixt each layer of seed, knowing how easily a seed so rich in a drying-oil becomes rancid or too dry, and so losing all power of germination. Also I had the crates slung up to the beams of the Indian lodges to insure ventilation.

“I was working against time. It was true that the seed would still continue to ripen, and to fall from the trees for another month or so, but it would be inexpedient to risk the vitality of some thousands I had succeeded in securing. The rendezvous with Captain Murray of the Amazonas would soon fall due at the river mouth, and if I missed that, when and how another such opportunity? I had got to look upon the heavy oily seeds in their dappled skins as become very precious, after having backed them down so many long days tramping across the forest plateaux, and so lost no time in getting them carefully stowed under the tolda of the canoe, and starting away downstream, duly meeting the steamer, as appointed, at the mouth of the Tapajos.

“I found Murray crabbed and sore from the experiences with his two rascally supercargoes. It appeared they had given instructions to land the whole of the trade-goods with which his ship had been freighted ostensibly for purchase of incoming rubber-season crop at the town of Manaos. He was then to anchor his ship at the boca of the Rio Negro and 'await orders,’ they meanwhile to dispose of the goods, and to advise when they had got together sufficient rubber in order to load ship for the return trip. The time becoming unaccountably long, he landed, and on making inquiry he could only learn that the goods had indeed been disposed of, but no one could give any information as to his two supercargoes, and so found himself left with an empty ship on his hands.

“For my part, as the fine ship sped on her way with my prospective Hevea so far safe aboard, slung up fore and aft in their crates in the roomy, empty forehold, I became more and more exercised and concerned with a new anxiety, so as not much to heed Murray’s grumpiness. We were bound to call in at the city of Para, as the port of entry, in order to obtain clearance for the ship before we could go to sea. I was perfectly certain in my mind that if the authorities guessed the purpose of what I had on board, we should be detained under plea for instruction from the Central Government at Rio, if not interdicted altogether. I had heard of the difficulties encountered in the Clements Markham introduction of the Chinchonas in getting them out from the MontaÑa of Peru. Any such delay would have rendered my precious freight quite valueless and useless. But again fortune favoured. I had 'a friend at court’ in the person of Consul Green. He, quite entering into the spirit of the thing, went himself with me on a special call on the BarÃo do S——, 'chief of the Alfandiga,’ and backed me up as I represented 'to his Excellency my difficulty and anxiety, being in charge of, and having on board a ship anchored out in the stream, exceedingly delicate botanical specimens specially designated for delivery to Her Britannic Majesty’s own Royal Gardens of Kew. Even while doing myself the honour of thus calling on his Excellency, I had given orders to the captain of the ship to keep up steam, having ventured to trust that his Excellency would see his way to furnish me with immediate dispatch.’ An interview most polite, full of mutual compliments in best Portuguese manner, enabled us to get under way as soon as Murray had got the dingey hauled aboard.

“Now fairly away, I could breathe freely, and soon had the hatches off with the open-work crates slung up on lines fore and aft in the air, and free of danger from ship’s rats. Again blessed with fine weather, I was able to keep the hatches off all the way over.

“I got Murray to put me ashore at Havre, and there posted over to Kew, saw Sir Joseph Hooker, so as to enable him to dispatch a night goods-train to meet the ship Amazonas on arrival at the Liverpool docks. “June, 1876, was a time of commotion at Kew, as they were compelled to turn out orchid and propagating houses for service, and to make room for the sudden and all-unexpected inroad of the Hevea; but Sir Joseph was not a little pleased. The Hevea did not fail to respond to the care I had bestowed on them. A fortnight afterwards the glass-houses at Kew afforded (to me) a pretty sight—tier upon tier—rows of young Hevea plants, 7,000 and odd of them.”*

* “On the Plantation, Cultivation, and Curing of Para Indian Rubber,” by H.A. Wickham (Kegan Paul, Trench, TrÜbner and Co.).