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National Geographic : 1920 Jan
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BY MOTOR THROUGH THE EAST COAST AND BATAK HIGHLANDS OF SUMATRA BY MELVIN A. HALL With Photographsby the Author A FEW low islands, eventually to be gathered to the shores of the im mense mother-island by steadily encroaching alluvial deposit, appeared and dropped from sight in the sultry haze of mid-afternoon as we steamed up the Straits of Malacca. Sumatra itself was never visible, although on the other side of the Straits, to the northeast, the palm fringed Malayan coast and blue dorsal range of the interior remained all day in view. But the Sumatran east coast is so low and flat that its long, dark-green out line can seldom be distinguished above the black water before the ship actually approaches its harbor. It is a swampy, unhealthy coast, formed by the deposits of silt washed down from the mountains in the periodic inundations of an enormous annual rainfall. In this way the whole of the broad plain be tween mountains and sea, which, behind its mangrove fringe, forms the splendidly rich lands of rubber and tobacco estates, has gradually been built up and is steadily being extended. The mangrove plays a considerable part in this extension because of its re markable powers of reproduction. Grow ing partly in the shallow water of the littoral, these trees spread out a labyrinth of surface roots that act as a framework for the accumulating mud, which in the course of time rises above the surface and forms land. CURIOUS SIGHTS ON THE RIVER The ripe seeds of the mangrove do not fall off, but germinate upon the parent tree, growing downward in long, straight shoots. Eventually these drop from their own weight, and, falling upright in the shoal water, sink to the muddy bottom and there take root. Many fall beyond the outer edge of the swamp, and as the process continues more land is formed and the coast-line is gradually pushed farther out into the sea. The morning after leaving Singapore we sighted the thin, dark line of the shore as the ship steamed in between the closely set bamboo-and-string nets of the Malay coast fishermen. Then the water became the color of pea soup from the river-brought silt of volcanic moun tains, and shortly after the first glimpse of Sumatra we crept into Kuala Belawan, one of the mouths of the Deli River, the screw churning up the dirty yellow mud into a frothy trail. The shallow water and shifting mud banks of the coast make the location of ports unreliable and frequently necessi tate their removal or abandonment after they have once been established. Although large steamers now dock in the port of Deli, like most other Sumatran ports it is but a broad, mud-colored stream, winding sluggishly through dense equatorial swamps. The ship ploughed over the bar into the midst of scenery typical of low rivers near the line. Dripping mangroves, with black, snake-like roots, shut in the river's edge, only here and there grudgingly yielding a little space to tiny coconut groves where palm-thatched huts roosted high on piles above the oily water. A few sampans and narrow dug-out canoes idled along the banks, the fierce rays of the sun reflected from the ripples in their wake and glistening on the bare brown backs of their oarsmen. Farther up-river a line of high-sterned praus from Borneo, gayly colored and carved, regarded the steamer with mis trustful, painted eyes. Their cargoes of Bandjermasin matting for tobacco bales, and anak kajoe (poles for tobacco dry in-), and atap for thatching roofs lay piled high around their curious masts,
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