Sumatra is presented as a remote tropical landfall whose coastline briefly promises safety to Philip and Krantz but instead intensifies the uncertainty surrounding their flight. It marks the transition from open-water endurance to an apparently uninhabited wilderness, where scarce water, unfamiliar geography, and Krantz’s ominous presentiment converge.

Landfall and Maritime Route

On the twenty-second day of the voyage, the high land of southern Sumatra came into view. With no other vessels visible, Philip and Krantz resolved to continue through the Straits and make for Pulo Penang, which they expected to reach in seven or eight days because their vessel could lie close to the wind. Sumatra therefore appears first not as a destination in itself but as a landmark governing the fugitives’ navigation and confirming that their long passage had reached a new stage.

The voyage had already altered their outward appearance. Constant exposure to the burning sun had bronzed Philip and Krantz, while their long beards and Mussulman dresses made them capable of passing as natives. They had endured days beneath the sun and nights sleeping in the dew without apparent injury to their health. Their clothing and altered complexion give the approach to Sumatra a dual character: it is both a geographical arrival and a moment of unstable identity, in which travelers from elsewhere can seem to belong to the region they are entering.

Coastline and Interior

The eastern side of the Strait, about forty miles north of the point under discussion, is described as rocky and mountainous. Inland, the terrain gradually descended toward low country composed of alternating forest and jungles, running down to the beach. The country appeared uninhabited, and the absence of settlements made the coast a space outside ordinary protection, commerce, and social supervision.

That apparent emptiness determines the travelers’ conduct. Keeping close to shore, they spent two hours searching before discovering a fresh stream that burst in a cascade from the mountains and wound through the jungle before reaching the Strait. The stream supplies the immediate practical need that had begun to govern the voyage: their water was nearly exhausted, and replenishing the jars was necessary before they could safely continue toward Pulo Penang.

The Freshwater Stream

The stream initially offers a rare interval of relief. Philip and Krantz brought their vessel close to its mouth, lowered the sails, and rowed the peroqua against the current until they had gone far enough to establish that the water was fresh. They soon filled their jars, removing the most urgent threat to their continued passage.

The place also tempts them to remain. Its beauty, the coolness of the water, and their weariness after prolonged confinement aboard the peroqua led them to propose bathing, a luxury made especially desirable by the conditions of their journey. They removed their Mussulman dresses and entered the stream. Krantz emerged first, complaining that he felt chilled, while Philip moved toward the beach to follow him. The scene thus shifts from practical refuge to exposed vulnerability: the landscape’s apparent hospitality draws the travelers away from their vessel, their clothing, and the mobility that had protected them at sea.

Foreboding and Narrative Function

Sumatra’s significance is inseparable from Krantz’s changing state of mind. Since confiding his family history to Philip, he had become silent and melancholy, losing his former liveliness. When Philip spoke of their plans after reaching Goa, Krantz answered with the grave presentiment that he would never see that city. The sight of Sumatra does not dispel this fear. Instead, the landfall places the prophecy within a concrete route, making the distance to safety measurable while leaving Krantz convinced that he will not complete it.

The island and its adjoining coast consequently function as a threshold between survival and danger. The travelers have water again, yet the country seems deserted; they are disguised well enough to pass as natives, yet remain displaced; and they have reached land, yet the first inland movement carries them toward isolation rather than security. Sumatra’s narrative role lies in this reversal of expectation. What looks like a providential stopping place becomes the setting for an episode in which exhaustion, foreknowledge, and the seductive openness of the tropical wilderness expose the fugitives to what follows.