As this was the season at which they shed their large rough leaves, the interior of the forest was lighted up, otherwise it must have been as dark as Erebus. In one place, a bear was seen shuffling along as fast as he could travel, evidently dismayed at our intrusion, and too far off to have a shot at, even had we been so minded.
There was then a craze for teak-wood, and, as the forests were indiscriminately and ruthlessly felled in this and subsequent years till irreparable mischief ensued, this one probably shared the fate of the rest. Subsequently our Government realized the gravity of the situation, and appointed a forest conservancy, which, considering the mischief was already done and the teak requires about eighty years to arrive at maturity, was rather worse than locking the stable-door after the steed has been stolen.
Defoliated as they were, the sight was nevertheless a grand one, and more than realized my expectations. This tree has been introduced in various parts of the East, but nowhere does it thrive as in Burmah, the soil and climate suiting it equally well.
The largest bamboos too that I ever came across were in this country, and I have cut specimens some nine inches in diameter. The rough leaves of the one and the glossy surface of the other contain a large proportion of silica.
No wood approaches teak for ship-building purposes, as it is easily worked, durable and insect-proof. Most of our old East-Indiamen were composed of it, outliving even those constructed of oak.
Since entering the “Iron Age” of ships, the demand has greatly decreased; but this wood is still employed almost exclusively for the purpose of decking vessels of any size and importance.
I believe the P. and O. used formerly to send their vessels to Bombay, where they were decked with teak under the superintendence of Chinese carpenters, who understood that particular branch better even than ourselves.
I shall have occasion to return to the subject of the Teak trade in a subsequent chapter.
Leaving this forest on the left, a few days’ march brought us to the fringe of a sparsely inhabited country, and we came suddenly upon its one village.
So far from being afraid of us, men, women and children approached the camp, squatted down, and surveyed us with ludicrous curiosity, seemingly forgetting all else. They merely sat there, looking first at one thing, then at another; admiring the tents, but amazed beyond measure at the whiteness of our hands and faces.