This mountain lies about twenty-five miles north-west of the native town of Jahore, and is a trifle over 2,000 feet in height. To reach it from Singapore, one must take post-horses or the coach which runs daily to Krangi, a police-station on the margin of the “Old Strait,” and thence little steam ferry-boats carry one on to Jahore, from which place the mountain is reached partly in boats vi the Scudai river, and partly on foot through the forest.

I had agreed to visit the Puloi mountain in company with the government botanist, and leaving Singapore early, we reached Jahore about 3 P.M., after several little stoppages on the way. The ride from Singapore to Krangi was a very pleasant one to me, fresh as I was from the “old country.” The roads are remarkably smooth, and of a bright red colour, their margins fringed with orchards of tropical fruits or rows of betel-nut palms. Here and there are patches of sugar-cane, tapioca, or indigo, little plots of great-leaved bananas, while at intervals one catches passing glimpses of neat white bungalows nestling amid tall cocoa-nut groves. Arriving at Krangi, hot and dusty, we rested some time in a clean bungalow or rest-house, built for the convenience of travellers by the Government. The native police were very attentive, and we took our luncheon here and strolled around the station, and saw abundant evidence of the wild pigs, which are said to be very plentiful. While we waited, the Maharajah drove up in a neat little carriage drawn by a pair of ponies. This was just before his visit to England, and we obtained a good view of him. He is a fine manly fellow, with a bushy moustache, and was dressed in white trousers and jacket, with a white sun-hat, and wore a coloured “sarong” around his waist. We informed him of our intended visit to the mountain, and he promised us that Mr. Hole, his secretary, should furnish us with guides and boatmen.

We had arranged with a Chinese sampan man to ferry ourselves and baggage over, but just as we were about starting one of the little steam ferry-boats came over, and leaving “Johnnie” to bring on our things and a Chinese “boy” in charge, we crossed in the steamboat. We took up our quarters with Mr. Boultbee, with whom we were to stay the night. Jahore itself we found to be a straggling place built along the margin of the strait, and consisting of the Istana and a mosque, together with a few whitewashed houses roofed with red tiles, and native palm-thatched cottages. The best of the tiled houses are occupied by Chinese shopkeepers, the principal wares being rice, fruit, fish, coopery, boxes, baskets, and miscellaneous stores. The principal industry of the place is the timber trade. Extensive steam saw-mills, fitted with good machinery, are here worked by the Maharajah, a good many natives being employed in the trade, while the timber finds a market in Singapore, where a depÔt exists for business purposes. A railway was projected to the forest near Gunong Puloi some years ago, and several miles of wooden tramways were actually laid down, but the work is now suspended. Were such a roadway completed, it would do much to open up a fertile country especially rich in fine timber, rattans, and other jungle produce. The culture of gambier (Uncaria Gambir, Roxb.), pepper and other products now cultivated by the Chinese settlers would also be facilitated. As it is, the timber is cut as near to the streams as is possible, and is then dragged by buffaloes through the jungle and floated down to the town, several logs being lashed together so as to form rafts, on which a man stands to steer it clear of snags and other obstacles.

Gambling is one of the curses of this place, and is publicly carried on in some large buildings near the saw-mills. As the Maharajah derives a percentage from the tables, gambling is not likely to be suppressed here, as it has been at Singapore. Mr. Boultbee’s house, where we stayed, is a large and comfortable one of wood, and it stands on an eminence at the north-east end of the town. From the verandah a beautiful view of the old strait is obtained, reminding one of Windermere, only that the vegetation is more luxuriant, brightened as it is by a tropic sun. We walked in the garden and forest behind at sunrise, when every flower and leaf was bathed in dew, and were much pleased with the vegetation. The elk’s-horn fern (Platycerium biforme) grew on the stems of several of the trees, and we saw it high up in the branches of the forest trees behind the house. Nepenthes ampullaria, and the noblest of all ferns, Dipteris Horsfieldii, were also abundant in the jungle quite close to the sea-beach, and tall gleichenias clambered up the bushes to a height of at least twenty feet.

Birds and butterflies were alike plentiful in the jungle, and some of the latter were very gorgeous in colour. After our morning walk we looked over the saw-mills, and then returned with the manager to breakfast. We afterwards visited Mr. Hole at the Istana, and found that he had already obtained guides and boatmen, so that we at once had our baggage transferred to the boats, and prepared to start on our journey. Some delay arose, however, owing to the man having to purchase stores, and so it was after four o’clock before we bade Mr. Hole adieu on the steps of the Istana jetty and got fairly off. All our heavy baggage was stowed in a native boat, manned by four Malays, while we ourselves and our stores occupied a Chinese sampan. Our craft was pulled, or rather pushed, by its owner, a stalwart celestial; and as he had never been up the Scudai river before, we had an old Malay sitting on the prow to act as pilot, the stream being very narrow in places, with numerous snags and shoals. Notwithstanding this precaution, however, we were aground twice, and the boat heeled over in the current rather uncomfortably. “Johnnie” had to plunge out into the mud of this alligator’s paradise to push our craft into deep water again. These were trifling discomforts, however, not worth a thought amid much that was novel and interesting. We ate our dinners in the boat just at dusk, and enjoyed the cool breeze which swept over the water as we glided up stream.

The silence of the night was unbroken, save by the regular dip of the oars; and as darkness increased, the tiny lamps of the fire-flies became visible here and there among the vegetation on the banks. As we glided onwards their numbers increased, until we came upon them in thousands, evidently attracted by some particular kind of low tree, around which they flashed simultaneously, their scintillating brilliancy being far beyond what I could have imagined to be possible. During my whole sojourn in the East I never saw them again in anything like such numbers. The moon arose about eight o’clock, revealing more distinctly the gradual narrowing of the river, the vegetation of which appeared to be very luxuriant, towering far above our heads. We could recognise the tufted leaves and tall stems of a slender-growing pandan, standing out clear and dark against the sky, and here and there the tall dead trunk of a giant tree added to the weird beauty of a scene, in which the lack of accurate knowledge left much to the imagination.

Our solitary Chinese boatman dipped his oars with the same easy swing as at starting; and about nine o’clock he finished a stiff pull of nine or ten miles by running our boat into the little creek at Kanka Kaladi, he having kept ahead of the Malays, who paddled the other boat, all the way. On our arrival, all the Chinese who live here were abed; so we hauled our craft up to a boat-house at the head of the creek, and got all our things into the loft overhead, and having spread our rugs, and lighted our lamp, we turned in for the night. Before we fell asleep some of the people, who had been disturbed by our arrival, came to have a look at us, and did their best to keep us awake by talking most of the night.

We awoke the next morning just before sunrise, and soon prepared our breakfast of soup and biscuit. We had a stroll around the village, which was entirely occupied by Chinese settlers. The houses were of wood, thatched with palm-leaves, and most of them were surrounded with fruit-trees and cocoa-nut palms. We tried to hire coolies, to carry some of our luggage on to the next village, Kanka Ah Tong, where we were to rest for the night, starting for the summit to-morrow. Unfortunately, the head man was away at Jahore; and some coolies, who expressed their willingness to accompany us, demanded a sum equivalent to five shillings per day for their services, so we decided to do without them; indeed, the Malays we had with us protested against this extortion on the part of the Chinese settlers, and said they would endeavour to carry all themselves.

We pulled out of the creek, and proceeded further up the river, finally landing at a place where there is an excellent road, leading through the forest to Kanka Ah Tong. Here we landed all our things; and our men were fortunate to secure a couple of Javanese woodcutters, who were fishing, and who were willing to carry part of our gear for a fair payment. We rested a little in a hut beside the road, in which were two men suffering from fever, and another, who had dysentery. We gave them medicine, and pushed onwards. Monkeys were very plentiful on the tall trees beside our path; and we saw several grey squirrels, and a few birds, including a curious shrike, and a barbet, which I had never seen before. The trees around us were very tall, and in many cases festooned with rattans, and other climbing-plants. Flowers were not plentiful; and although we made several dÉtours in the forest, nothing of interest was seen.

It was very hot in the middle of the day. Our thermometer stood at 93° in the shade; and nearly all the way our path lay in the open, the sun being very hot overhead. After the first few miles we came to several open plots of land, under cultivation, gambier and pepper being the principal crops. We stayed at one place, where the raw gambier, or “terre japonica,” was being prepared in a low shed. There were several low brick fire-places, over which shallow iron pans were placed; and in these the leaves and young stems are boiled. The product, when finished, looks like wet red clay, and is packed in coarse bags, and sent to Singapore, where it realises about five dollars per picul of 133 lbs. Gambier is a very exhausting crop, literally ruining the land on which it is grown.

The Chinese whom we found here were very much interested and surprised at our visit, and gave us a supply of cocoa-nuts, oranges, and papaw fruit from their garden. The latter fruit are as large as a small Cadiz melon, with delicate red flesh, when perfectly ripe. They are not much esteemed; but I thought these very nice, having a flavour resembling that of apricots. The colourless milk of the young cocoa-nuts, fortified by just a soupÇon of brandy, tasted really delicious, after our tramp under a hot sun. These thrifty Chinese had a fine flourishing plantation of bananas, but no ripe fruit; and clumps of yellow sugar-cane here and there attracted the attention of our followers, who helped themselves to the natural “sugar-sticks,” without any compunction whatever.

Refreshed by a short rest, and a cooling draught, we pushed onwards, and reached Kanka Ah Tong about three o’clock. We sought out the old Chinese headman, and through him obtained the loan of a new house, just erected in the centre of the village, so that we were soon established in quarters, and the “boy” then began to cook our evening meal. We were of course soon surrounded by a crowd of villagers; and a paraffin cooking apparatus, which the “boy” had in working order before the door, interested them very much.

I noticed an excellent breed of black and white dogs at this village, in build not unlike a fox-terrier, but larger. These people evidently desired to keep the breed pure; for I noticed that all the dogs in the place were the same. A clear stream ran past the front of our house, and we were glad to get a bath before dinner. In this stream were at least two species of little fish, the largest rarely exceeding three inches in length, being beautifully spotted with dark brown on their sides. We felt deliciously cool after bathing, and ate our dinner comfortably, on seats we extemporised just outside our door.

After a smoke, in the cool of the evening, we prepared our sleeping gear, and turned in for the night. We were up at sunrise, and bathed in the little stream, while my friend’s servant and our men prepared breakfast. We left some of our less needful gear in charge of the headman, and then shouldering our guns, we set out for the mountain, a good ten mile walk, over bad roads, and the last three or four miles is stiff climbing most of the way. Altogether it took us about six hours to accomplish, as we started at about seven o’clock in the morning, and reached the hut at the top a little after one P.M.

The first mile or two the path lies through gambier patches; and at one of the clearings we flushed a couple of fire-back pheasants, but we were too far off to get a shot at them. Their plumage shone resplendently in the morning sunlight, as they rose with the “whir-r-r,” so familiar to sportsmen nearer home. A tolerably level jungle path succeeds the gambier patches for two or three miles further, and then the path commences, leading up the mountain-side.

Our first stopping place was at some distance up the base of the rise, where a bit of folded paper in a split stick directed us to the “Lady Jervoise Falls;” and, as we stood quietly, the sound of the falling water fell on our ears from the left-hand side of the path. We soon plunged down the slope, and reached them, but were rather disappointed, as all the water visible was a brook rushing down a rocky gully, and falling a distance of five or six feet over into a water-worn basin below. The water was clear and cool, and we took advantage of it to secure a bath in the shade of the tall trees overhead. The rocks were beautifully draped with ferns and mosses; and a small species of anÆctochilus grew here and there on the mossy rocks. Its leaves were of a rich velvety-green colour, netted with golden veins.

We sat here, and rested awhile, the cool splash of the water sounding pleasantly as it fell into the spreading limpid pool at our feet. Here, for the first time, I made the acquaintance of the jungle leech, a most energetic thing, which neglects no opportunity of taking its sanguinary toll from the passing traveller. Several of them fixed themselves on our legs, the first notice of their unwelcome presence being the oozing of our blood through our white trowsers. Their first bite is rarely felt; and very often, as I afterwards found, it is only by their gorged bodies feeling cold to the skin, that their presence becomes known.

The road from the falls to the summit is in places very steep, and the muscles of one’s legs feel it ere the end of the journey is reached. Many of those who read of jungle travel at home will be sure to imagine it very pleasant to explore a tropical forest, accompanied by a posse of native guides and carriers—with gun on shoulder, and luxuriant vegetation on all sides, and an occasional shot at a big monkey or a beautiful bird overhead. So of a truth it is, but in common with all other pleasures it has its drawbacks. After three or four hours hard walking, varied by a rest now and then, and a few stumbles, we reached the summit, and we luckily were rewarded by a most beautiful view. The atmosphere was clear, and in all directions a vast billowy sea of jungle stretched below us—foam-like flecks of white cloud being visible here and there on the top of the low coast hills.

We found the little hut on the summit rather out of repair, but a little labour in strengthening the principal supports of the roof, and the addition of a little palm-leaf thatch, made it more comfortable. We enjoyed a magnificent sunset, and lit our lamps just at dusk, nor were we loath to make a hearty meal of warm soup, rice and tea, which had been prepared while we looked around our camping ground. After a smoke and a chat we wrapped our rugs around us and were soon asleep on the side benches of sticks covered with freshly-cut palm-leaves. We were awoke during the night by the rain dripping through the roof, but managed to keep ourselves dry by suspending our waterproof sheets overhead. We awoke at daybreak, but could see nothing but a mass of snow-white clouds below us on all sides. After breakfast we started on a collecting tour down the mountain side, and soon struck a deep gully, through which a streamlet washed over the water-worn stones and pebbles.

Here we found one or two very interesting aroids (Schismatoglottis), and ferns were abundant, notably two or three species of lindsayas, their bold fronds being of a rich green colour, shot with steel-blue. Dipteris Horsfieldii clothed the rocky declivities of the gorge here and there, and a large-urned variety of Nepenthes ampullaria was strikingly luxuriant, growing along the edges of wet mossy rocks. Tiny plants only three or four inches in height and half buried in wet moss, decayed leaves, and other forest dÉbris, bore eight or ten pitchers four inches in height and three inches in diameter. N. Rafflesiana, an allied species, we saw clambering up the thick undergrowth to a height of twenty or thirty feet, but the pitchers were not larger than ordinarily are produced by the plant when grown in our hothouses at home. A large branching species of gleichenia grows luxuriantly near the top of this mountain, and seems to replace G. dichotoma, which is so common in Singapore and Pulo Penang. Orchids were sparingly represented by a coelogyne, and one or two other genera, but nothing of interest was observable. A form of our own Pteris aquilina grew luxuriantly around the hut where the forest had been cleared. A dracÆna, with green undulate foliage, almost grassy in its tenuity, and the variegated Cissus porphyrophyllus were plentiful, and a red-veined echites covered mossy trunks beside the stream.

We returned from our collecting about 5 o’clock, tired and wet through—a very common thing indeed in a tropical forest, so that we were glad to strip to the skin and have a bath, followed by a rub dry with coarse towels, and dry clothes. Our dinner of tinned soup and boiled beef was very acceptable, and our cook made a very appetising curry of dried fish and a few chilies collected from bushes which grew in the clearing around our hut, seeds having been sown either designedly or accidentally by former visitors. A cup of tea and a cigar were deliciously soothing after the rough falls and scrambling of the day. We were disappointed with the place as a collecting ground, and resolved to return to the richer forest of the lower slopes near Kanka Ah Tong on the morrow. Our guides gave us an account of this mountain, and assured us that tigers were not uncommon, and that the Chinamen were frequently carried off by them when working in clearings near the forest. Wild pigs, monkeys, and deer, are plentiful. The Argus and fire-back pheasant are found here, and alligators of enormous size are reported as frequenting the rivers further inland.

After dinner we made up a large fire outside the hut, dragging all the fallen trunks in the vicinity to it, for we scarcely relished the idea of a “man-eater” lurking in the neighbourhood, who might wish to vary his diet. These burned brightly all through the night, although at times it rained heavily, and served for cooking purposes in the morning. We descended about eight o’clock, staying here and there to collect plants and flowers on the way. We reached the “Falls” about 10 o’clock, and I looked around for plants, while my friend bathed, and the men rested themselves awhile. “Shall you not bathe?” he asked me. I replied, “I’ll just wash my face and hands presently, and let that suffice until we reach Ah Tong.” We were just about to return to the path when a pretty fern I had not before observed attracted my attention, growing on a bit of jutting rock overhanging the Falls. I borrowed a chopper from one of the men, and clambered up the rocks, but to reach it I had to stride across the stream just where it falls over the boulders. I had secured my prize and was turning to leap back when slip! bump! splash! I went, plants, chopper, and all, into the water-worn basin below. When I regained the surface I was washed down again like a cork by the weight of water pouring down from above, but the next time I struck out for the side and crawled out like a half-drowned rat. My friend and our Malays had a hearty laugh over my misadventure, and I was fortunately not injured in any way. I took off my clothes and wrung them as near dry as possible and then put them on again, and it is astonishing what an excellent substitute wet clothes so treated are when dry ones are not procurable, especially if they can be dipped in sea water and again wrung dry. We walked on rapidly, staying here and there in open places where the vegetation was especially luxuriant to collect such plants as interested us. About 1 o’clock we reached Kanka Ah Tong, and I took the opportunity of at once having another bath—not an accidental one this time—and of getting into dry clothes. I also took a dose of quinine in a glass of brandy-and-water, and felt no ill effects from my accident and long walk in wet clothing.

We stayed here for the night, and the next day we returned to Jahore, and crossing the straits reached Singapore about 6 o’clock. In returning down the Scudai river we saw a slender habited pandanus bearing its crimson fruit in clusters among its long glaucus leaves, and in places on the margins of the stream the beautiful red-sheathed areca palm was very beautiful. Although this journey was a singularly unproductive one so far as the discovery of new plants of horticultural or botanical interest were concerned, yet it had taught me much in other ways, and gave me an insight into the habits and customs of the Malays, whose language I had commenced to learn as soon as I landed in Singapore for the first time.

It is unfortunate that this Puloi mountain is not more readily accessible, seeing that at its summit the air is deliciously fresh and cool, and beautiful views are obtainable. A good road thither, and a bungalow or two, are all that are needed in order to make this a valuable sanatorium for residents in Singapore, who are worse off in this respect than the Penang people, who have a cool health station, with bungalows, &c., on the “Hill,” which is only a pleasant pony-ride from the town.

Apart from the Malay and Chinese inhabitants of Jahore, there are tribes of wild men or Jakuns, who are believed to be the descendants of the aboriginal population. These reside in the interior of the country, some of the tribes even construct their rude dwellings in the trees, and wherever land culture is by them adopted it is of the most rude and primitive description. As a rule, their life is nomadic. Dr. Maclay visited these people in 1875, and the following are some of his observations respecting them:—1

“These people are thoroughly disinclined to improvement of any kind in their mode of life, intellectually or otherwise, although it is not occasioned by want of opportunity nor from want of brain.

“3. That these tribes are gradually becoming extinct not only the Malays, but also they themselves are fully aware.

“This process of extinction is due mainly to the following causes:—

• “a. The constant advance into the jungle of the Malay and Chinese population displaces the original occupiers of the soil, who retire into greater solitude.
• “b. Owing to frequent intermarriages between the Malays and the ‘utan’ women, the latter race is becoming intermixed into the former, and this mixed race is fast increasing.

“In spite of the almost foregone conclusion with which I set out upon my journey, and after severely criticising upon my return the observations I made, I cannot doubt the fact of the existence of an aboriginal non-Malayan population. Furthermore, previous experience and intimate knowledge of the Papuan race lead me to the conviction that this aboriginal population is not only not of Malay origin, but probably related to the Papuans. Here and there I came across individuals whom I could not consider otherwise than as retrogrades to the main aboriginal type. In most of these cases the hair, though not absolutely identical with that of the pure Papuan type, resembled in texture and in growth that of the Papua-Malay (mixed race) of the west coast of New Guinea, who are by no means inconsiderable in number. In these individual cases the hair was quite different from the curled hair of the other orang-utans.

“My chief reasons for my decision on this point, are deduced from the existence of these retrograde instances from the present to the aboriginal type: the fact that the orang-utans are not easily distinguishable from the Malays inhabiting the interior of Jahore, does not diminish this decision, because these Malays gradually by intermarriages have partly inherited the orang-utan type. This intermarriage has been in practice for centuries, and is likely to have been occasioned by the flight into the interior of those of the Coast-Malays, who preferred retirement in the jungle to embracing the doctrines of Islam at the time of the Mahomedan conquest in these parts. To such causes are mainly attributable the variations in the type, and the diversity in the skull formations which I met with in my journey. In size the “orang-utan” are strikingly diminutive. The men rarely exceed four feet eight inches in height, whilst I came across many instances of women, mothers of several children, whose stature was about four feet two inches. Some allowance in these cases must be made consequent on the early marriages, and the defective nourishment at all times.

“Some of the ‘orang-utan’ whilst preserving their traditional habits and mode of existence, continue to dwell in the neighbourhood of the Malay population, selling to them the best-looking and strongest of their daughters. It is rare for the ‘orang-utan’ to change to Islamism or to adopt the Malay habits of life. In these cases their aboriginal language has yielded to the Malay and become entirely forgotten as if it had never existed. Such are the conclusions arrived at after wandering in Jahore, which I traversed from the Straits of Malacca to the China Sea. In the study of these people I felt as if I were commencing the perusal of an interesting old work, of whose semi-effaced pages some were missing.”2