Life in the forests of the Far East (vol. 1 of 2) (2024)

LIFE IN THE FORESTS
OF
THE FAR EAST.

I have explained in a short introduction the object and plan of thepresent volumes, and have little more to say, beyond a reference to theassistance I have received, and the plates and maps which accompanyand illustrate them. In order to prevent mistakes, and correct my ownimpressions, I submitted a series of questions to four gentlemen whowere intimately acquainted with the Dayak tribes, and they gave memost useful information in reply. To Mr. Charles Johnson and the Rev.William Chalmers I am indebted for very copious and valuable notes onthe Sea and Land Dayaks; and to the Rev. Walter Chambers and the Rev.William Gomez for more concise, yet still interesting accounts of thetribes with whom they live.

To Mr. Hugh Low, the Colonial Treasurer of Labuan, I am under specialobligations, as he freely placed at my disposal the journals he hadkept during our joint expeditions, as well as those relating to some[viii]districts which I have not visited. It is to be regretted that hehas not himself prepared a work on the North-West Coast, as no manpossesses more varied experience or a more intimate knowledge of thepeople.

With regard to the plates contained in this work, I am indebted to thecourtesy of George Bentham, Esq., the President of the Linnean Society,for permission to engrave the figures of the Nepenthes from theadmirable ones published in Vol. XXII. of that Society’s Transactions,and which being of the size of life are the more valuable.

I have inserted, with Dr. Hooker’s permission, his description of theBornean Nepenthes; and it will always be a subject of regret thatthe British Government did not carry out their original intention ofsending this able botanist to investigate the Flora of Borneo, which isperhaps as extraordinary as any in the world.

I have also to thank the Rev. Charles Johnson, of White Lackington,and Charles Benyon, Esq., for the photographs which they placed at mydisposal, and which have enabled me to insert, among other plates, themost life-like pictures of the Land and Sea Dayaks I have ever seen. Tothe Society for the Propagation of the Gospel I am also indebted fortheir generous offer to place all their drawings at my disposal.

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I must likewise draw attention to the exquisite manner in whichthe plates of the Nepenthes are coloured, and to the beauty of theengravings in general. They are admirably illustrative of the country,and do very great credit to the lithographers, Messrs. Day and Son,and to their excellent draughtsmen. I ought also to mention that theNepenthes are drawn less than half the natural size, as it was foundimpracticable to introduce the full size without many folds, whichwould have speedily destroyed the beauty of the plates.

I will add a few words respecting the maps. The one of the districtsaround Kina Balu was constructed from the observations made duringour two expeditions to that mountain. The map of the Limbang andBaram rivers is the result of many observations, and with regard tothe position of the main mountains, I think substantially correct, asthey were fixed with the aid of the best instruments. The third mapis inserted in order to give a general idea of the North-West Coast,though the run of the rivers is often laid down by conjecture.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

MAPS.

ERRATA.

Page 317, line 9, for “four,” read “fourteen.”

  „   „ 17, for “was,” read “that of the others is.”

INTRODUCTION.

The wild tribes of Borneo, and the not less wild interior ofthe country, are scarcely known to European readers, as no one who hastravelled in the Island during the last fourteen years has given hisimpressions to the public.

My official position afforded me many facilities for gratifying myfondness for exploring new countries, and traversing more of the northof Borneo than any previous traveller, besides enabling me to gain moreintimate and varied experience of the inhabitants.

In the following pages I have treated of the tribes in groups, and haveendeavoured to give an individual interest to each; while, to preservethe freshness of my first impressions, I have copied my journal writtenat the time, only correcting such errors as are inseparable fromfirst observations, and comparing them with the result of subsequentexperience.

[2]

Preserving the natural order of travel, I commence with an account ofmy expeditions among the tribes living in the neighbourhood of Sarawak;then follow narratives of two ascents of the great mountain of KinaBalu, the loftiest mountain of insular Asia, of which I have given afull account, as it is a part of Borneo but little known, and renderedstill more curious by the traces we find of former Chinese intercoursewith this part of the island; my personal narrative being concluded bythe journal of a distant expedition I made to explore the interior ofthe country lying to the south and south-east of Brunei, the capital ofBorneo Proper.

The starting-point of the first journeys was Kuching, the capital ofSarawak, where I was stationed in the acting appointment of H. M.’sCommissioner in Borneo. I lived so many years among the Dayaks, thatthe information I give of their mode of life may be relied on; and Ihave received so much assistance from others better acquainted withindividual tribes, that I can place before the public, with greatconfidence in the correctness of detail, the chapters on the Mannersand Customs of these people. I persuade myself that the more thenatives of Borneo are studied, the more lively will be the interestfelt in them. The energy displayed by the Sea Dayaks, gives much hopeof their advancement in civilization at a future time; and a few yearsof quiet and steady government would produce a great change in theircondition. The Land Dayaks scarcely display the same aptitude forimprovement, but patience may do much with them also; their modes ofthought, their customs, and the traces of Hinduism in their religion,[3]render them a very singular and interesting people.

Of the Kayans we know less; and I have only been able to give anaccount of one journey I made among them, very slightly correctedby subsequent experience. They are a strange, warlike race, who aredestined greatly to influence the surrounding tribes. They have alreadypenetrated to within thirty miles of Brunei, the capital, spreadingdesolation in their path.

For ten years, every time I had entered the bay near the Brunei river,I had speculated on what kind of country and people lay beyond thedistant ranges of mountains that, on a clear day, appeared to extend,one behind the other, as far as the eye could reach. I constantly madeinquiries, but never could find even a Malay who had gone more thana few days’ journey up the Limbang, the largest river which fallsinto the bay. In 1856, I took up my permanent residence in Brunei asConsul-General, and, after many minor attempts, I was at last enabledto organize an expedition to penetrate into the interior, and, hopingit might prove interesting, every evening, with but two exceptions,I wrote in my journal an account of the day’s proceedings. I haveprinted it, as far as possible, in the same words in which it wasoriginally composed. As this country was never before visited by Malayor European, I hope there will be found in my narrative some fresh andinteresting matter.

The Malays being a people about whom much has been written, I haverefrained from dwelling on their characteristics.

[4]

I conclude with a sketch of the present condition of Brunei andSarawak, of the Chinese settlers, and of the two missions which havebeen sent to Borneo, one Roman Catholic, the other Protestant.

It was with much regret that I gave up the idea of penetrating to theopposite side of Borneo, starting from the capital, and crossing theisland to Kotei or Baluñg-an, on the eastern coast; but the expensewould have been too great: otherwise, with my previous experience ofBorneo travelling, I should have had no hesitation in attempting theexpedition.

Having thus briefly indicated the plan of the work, I will commencewith an account of my journeys among the Sea Dayaks.

Habitat of the Sea Dayaks—Start for the Lundu—InlandPassages—Fat Venison—The Lundu—Long VillageHouse—Chinese Gardens—Picturesque Waterfall—The LunduDayaks—Their Village—Gradual Extinction of the Tribe—ASquall—Childbirth—Girl Bitten by a Snake—Mr. Gomez—HisTact—A Boa Seizes my Dog—Stories of Boa Constrictors—OneCaught in a Cage—Invasion of a Dining-room—Capture ofa large Boa—Boa and Wild Boar—Native Accounts—Madmanand Snake—Boas used as Rat Catchers—Floating Islands—AMan Found on one—Their Origin—The Batang Lupar—TheLingga—Alligators Dangerous—Method of Catching them—TheirSize—Hair Balls—Death of an Acquaintance—The BalauLads—The Orang-Utan—A large one killed—Banks of theRiver—The Fort at Sakarang—The late Mr. Brereton—SakarangHead-hunting—Dayak Stratagem—Peace Ceremonies—SacredJars—Farmhouse—Love of Imitation—Illustrated LondonNews—Women—Men—Poisoning—Workers in Gold andBrass—Anecdote—Rambi Fruit—Pigs Swimming—The Bore—HuntingDogs—Wild Boar—Respect for Domestic Pig—Two kinds ofDeer—Snaring—Land and Sea Breezes—The Rejang—LoftyMillanau House—Human Sacrifices—Swings—InnumerableMayflies—Kanowit Village—Kayan Mode of Attack—KanowitDayaks—Men with Tails—Extraordinary Effect of Bathingin the Nile—Treachery—Bier—Customs on the Death of aRelative—Curious Dance—Ceremonies on Solemnizing Peace—WildTribes—Deadly Effect of the Upas.

The Sea Dayaks are so called from their familiarity with the sea,though many live as far inland as any of the other aborigines. Theyinhabit the districts lying to the eastward of Sadong, and extendalong[6] the coast to the great river of Rejang. They are the mostnumerous and warlike of the Dayaks; and the most powerful of theirsections formerly indulged in the exciting pastime of piracy andhead-hunting. The next river to the east of Sadong is the Sibuyau,whose inhabitants were scattered and had fled to the districts aroundSarawak.

The first village of these Sibuyaus, to whom we paid a long visit,was situated on the Lundu, the most westerly river in the Sarawakterritories.

We started in March; and the north-east monsoon still blowingoccasionally, made it necessary to watch our time for venturing to sea,as the waves would soon have swamped our long native prahu.

From the Santubong entrance of the Sarawak River to the Lundu, thereare passages which run behind the jungle that skirts the sea-shore,enabling canoes to hold communication between those places thirty milesapart without venturing to sea; but our boat being fifty feet long wasunable to pass at one place, so during a lull in the weather we pushedout, calling at the little island of Sampadien, where Mr. Crookshankwas preparing the ground for a cocoa-nut plantation. He brought us downa fine haunch of venison, covered with a layer of fat, a very rarething in Borneo, where the deer generally are destitute of that sign ofgood condition. He had employed himself the first few days in clearingthe island of game, and his dogs had on the previous evening beenfortunate enough to bring this fine animal to bay, when he speared itwith his own hands.

Pushing off quickly, as the sea breeze was blowing[7] in strongly, wesailed and pulled away for the river of Sampadien, and after a narrowescape from not hitting the right channel, found ourselves clear of thebreakers and safe in still water. An inland passage then took us to theLundu.

The banks of this river are very flat and the plains extend for aconsiderable distance, but the scene is redeemed from tameness by themountains of Gading and Poè. There is a flourishing appearance aboutthe place; all were engaged in some occupation. We were received byKalong, the Orang Kaya’s eldest son, the chief himself being absentcollecting the fruit of the mangkawan, from which a good vegetable oilis extracted: the natives use it for candles and for cookery, but it isalso exported in quantities to Europe.

The landing-place is very picturesque, being overshadowed by a groveof magnificent palms, under which were drawn up the war-boats of thetribe. A passage raised on posts three feet above the ground, led tothe great village-house, which extended far on either side, and wasthen hidden among the fruit-trees. It was the longest I had seen,measuring 534 feet, and contained nearly five hundred people. There arevarious lesser houses about of Malays and Dayaks, forming a populationof about a thousand. The Orang Kaya lived in the largest house, whichwas certainly a remarkably fine one: the broad verandah, or commonroom, stretched uninterruptedly the whole length, and afforded amplespace for the occupations of the tribe. The divisions appropriated toeach family were comparatively large, and all had an air of comfort;while in front of the house were[8] bamboo platforms, on which the riceis dried and beaten out.

No village in Sarawak is blessed with greater prosperity than this. Theold Orang Kaya, being of a most determined character, has reversed theusual order of things; and the Malays, instead of being the governors,are the governed. Having for years been little exposed to exactions,they are flourishing and exhibit an air of great contentment.

They made us comfortable in the long public room, and placed benchesaround a table for our accommodation. I confess to prefer the cleanmatted floor. After the first burst of curiosity was over, the peoplewent on with their usual avocations, and did not make themselvesuncomfortable about us.

We walked in the evening among the Chinese gardens extending overabout a hundred acres of ground, and neatly planted with various kindsof vegetables, among which beans and sweet potatoes appeared mostnumerous. There were here about two hundred Chinese, most of thembut lately arrived, so that the cultivated ground was continuallyincreasing. A large market was found for their sweet potatoes among thesago growers and workers of the rivers to the north.

Next day we started for a waterfall, which we were told was to be foundon the sides of the Gading mountain, a few miles below the village.After leaving our boat, the path lay through a jungle of fruit-trees;but as we ascended the spur of the mountain these ceased. In aboutan hour we came to a very deep ravine, where the thundering noise offalling water gave notice of the presence of a cataract. This[9] is byfar the finest I have yet seen: the stream, tumbling down the sidesof the mountain, forms a succession of noble falls: the first we sawdashed in broken masses over the rocks above, and then descended likea huge pillar of foam into a deep, gloomy basin, while on either sideof it rose smooth rocks, crowned with lofty trees, and dense underwood,that threw their dark shadows into the pool.

A slight detour brought us to a spot above the cascade, and then wecould perceive that it was but the first of a succession. One view,where six hundred feet of fall was at once visible, is extremely fine:the water now gliding over the smoothest granite rock, then brokeninto foam by numerous obstructions, then tumbling in masses intodeep basins,—the deafening roar, the noble trees rising amid thesurrounding crags, the deep verdure, the brightness of the tropicalsun, reflected from burning polished surfaces, then deep shade andcooling air. This varied scene was indeed worth a visit. We ascended tothe top of the mountain, though warned of the danger we incurred from aferocious dragon which guarded the summit.

The Sibuyaus are only interlopers in the Lundu, as there is a tribe,the original inhabitants of the country, who still live here. One daywe visited them.

After pulling a few miles up the river we reached a landing place,where the chief of the true Lundus was waiting to guide us to hisvillage. For six or seven miles our path lay through the jungle overundulating ground, and we found the houses situated at the commencementof a great valley lying between the mountains[10] of Poè and Gading. Thesoil is here excellent, but now little of it is tilled, though thereare thousands of acres around that might support an immense population.Most of it, however, had, in former times, been cleared, as we saw butvery little old forest.

The Lundu houses, on the top of a low hill, are but few in number, neatand new. The tribe, however, has fallen; they fear there is a curseon them. A thousand families, they say, once cultivated this valley,but now they are reduced to ten, not by the ravages of war, but bydiseases sent by the spirits. They complain bitterly that they haveno families, that their women are not fertile; indeed, there were butthree or four children in the whole place. The men were fine-looking,and the women well favoured and healthy—remarkably clean and free fromdisease. We could only account for their decreasing numbers by theirconstant intermarriages: we advised them to seek husbands and wivesamong the neighbouring tribes, but this is difficult. Their village isa well-drained, airy spot.

On our return, one of those sudden squalls came on that are so frequentin Borneo: we were among the decayed trees that still stood on the siteof an old farm. As a heavier gust swept from the hills, the half-rottentimber tottered and fell with a crash around us, rendering our walkextremely dangerous. I was not sorry, therefore, to find myself inthe boat on the broad river. The banks are tolerably well clearedby Chinese, Malays, Millanaus, and Dayaks. A few months after this,a sudden squall struck the British brig “Amelia,” and capsized her:ninety-three[11] went down with her, but twenty escaped in the jolly-boat.

In the evening Kalong’s wife was taken in the pains of childbirth. TheRev. F. Dougall, now Bishop of Labuan, offered his medical assistance,as it was evident the case was a serious one, but they preferredfollowing their own customs. The child died, and we left the mothervery ill.

A young girl, bitten by a snake, was brought in; the wound was rubbedwith a piece of deer’s horn, she became drowsy and slept for severalhours, but in the morning she was about her usual occupations.

A year after this visit, the Rev. W. Gomez was established there, toendeavour to convert the Sibuyau Dayaks. At first, he did not pressreligious instruction upon them, but opened a school. I mention thiscirc*mstance on account of the very remarkable tact he must haveexercised to induce the children to attend as they did. His system ofpunishment was admirable, but difficult to be followed with Englishboys. He merely refused to hear the offending child’s lesson, and toldhim to go home. A friend, who often watched the progress of the school,has told me that instead of going home the little fellows would soband cry and remain in a quiet part of the school till they thought Mr.Gomez had relented. They would rarely return to their parents, if itcould be avoided, before their lessons were said.

On our journey along the coast, while walking at the edge of thejungle, a favourite dog of mine was seized by a boa-constrictor,perhaps twelve feet in length. Fortunately, Captain Brooke was near,and[12] sent a charge of shot into the reptile, which then let go its holdand made off. The dog had a wound on the side of his neck.

The natives tell many stories of these monstrous snakes; but rejectingthe testimony of those who say they have seen them so large as tomistake them for trees, I will mention three cases where the animalswere measured. A boa one night got into a closely-latticed place undera Dayak house, and finding it could not drag away a pig which it hadkilled there, on account of the wooden bars, swallowed the beast on thespot. In the morning the owner was astonished to find the new occupantof the sty; but as the reptile was gorged, he had no difficulty indestroying it. Its body was brought to Sarawak and measured by Mr.Ruppell, when it was found to be nineteen feet in length.

The next was killed in Labuan, and without head and a large portionof its neck, it measured above twenty feet. I heard the story toldhow the reptile was secured. One day, a dog belonging to Mr. Coulsondisappeared, and a servant averred that it was taken by an enormoussnake. The following week, as the same servant was laying the cloth fordinner, he saw, to his horror, a huge snake dart at a dog, that wasquietly dozing in the verandah, and carry it off. The master, alarmedat the cries of his follower, rushed out, and, on hearing the cause,gave chase, spear in hand, followed by all his household. They trackedthe reptile to his lair, and found the dead dog opposite a hole ina hollow tree; placing a man with a drawn sword to watch there, Mr.Coulson thrust a spear into an upper hole, and struck the[13] boa, which,feeling the wound, put its head out of the entrance, and instantly lostit by a blow from the Malay. I believe that when it was drawn from itshiding-place it measured about twenty-four feet; the before-mentionedlength was taken by me from the mutilated skin.

Mr. Coulson was also fortunate enough to secure the largest boa thathas ever been obtained by a European in the north-west part of Borneo.

In March, 1859, a Malay, his wife, and child, accompanied by a littledog, were walking from the Eastern Archipelago Company’s house, at theentrance of the Brunei towards the sea-beach. The path was narrow; thelittle dog trotted on first, followed by the others in Indian file.Just as they reached the shore, a boa darted on the dog and draggedhim into the bushes. The Malays fled back to the house, where theyfound Mr. Coulson, who, on hearing of the great size of the serpent,determined to attempt the capture of its skin. He loaded a Minié rifle,and requested three English companions who happened to be there toaccompany him with drawn swords. He made them promise to follow hisdirections. His intention was to walk up to within a fathom of theboa, and then shoot him through the head; if he were seized, then hiscompanions were to rush in with their swords, but not before, as hewished to preserve the skin uninjured. They found the reptile on thesame spot where it had killed the dog, that still lay partly encoiled:on the approach of the party, it raised its head, and made slight angrydarts towards them, but still keeping hold of its prey. Mr. Coulsoncoolly approached to within five feet of[14] the animal, which keptraising and depressing its head, and, seizing a favourable opportunity,fired; the ball passed through its brain and it lay dead at his feet—aprize worthily gained. They raised the boa up while still making strongmuscular movements, and carried it back to the house; there theymeasured it—it was twenty-six feet two inches. Mr. Coulson immediatelyskinned it, and, shortly after, brought it up to the consulate. When Imeasured it, it had lost two inches, and was exactly twenty-six feet inlength.

These boas must have occasionally desperate struggles with the wildpigs. I one day came upon a spot where the ground was torn up for acircle of eight or nine feet, and the branches around were broken. Theboar, however, had evidently succumbed, as we could trace with ease thecourse it had been dragged through the jungle. We followed a littledistance, but evidently no one was very anxious in pursuit. I knew theanimal killed on this occasion to be a boar, from finding his brokentusk half-buried in the ground.

I may mention one or two incidents which I heard from very trustworthyMalays. Abang Hassan was working in the woods at the Santubong entranceof the Sarawak river, when he came upon a huge boa, completely torpid;it had swallowed one of the large deer, whose horns, he said, couldbe distinctly traced under the reptile’s skin. He cut it open andfound that the deer was still perfectly fresh. The boa measured aboutnineteen feet.

Abang Buyong, a man whose word is trusted by all the Europeans who knowhim, told us that one[15] day he was walking through the jungle with adrawn sword, looking for rattans, when he was suddenly seized by theleg; he instinctively cut at the animal, and fortunate for him that hewas so quick, as he had struck off the head of a huge boa before ithad time to wind its coils around him. He said he carefully measuredhim, and it was seven Malay fathoms long—that is, from thirty-five tothirty-seven feet. Dozens of other stories rise to my memory, but theywere told me by men in whom I have not equal confidence. The largest Ihave myself killed was fourteen feet.

I will mention an incident that took place in July, 1861, during theSarawak expedition to the Muka river. A Malay, subject to fits ofdelirium, sprang up suddenly one day in a boat, drew a sword, killedtwo and wounded several men; he then dashed overboard, and fled intothe jungle. Ten days after, he was found wandering starving on thebeach. He appeared quite in his senses, and perfectly unaware of theact he had committed. He said, one night that threatened heavy rain,he crawled into a hollow tree to sleep. He was suddenly awakened bya choking sensation in his throat. He instinctively put up both hishands, and tore away what had seized him; it was a huge boa, whichin the confined space could not coil around him. The Malay quicklygot out of the serpent’s lair and fled, leaving his sword behind him.When found, there were the marks of the fangs on the sides of the tornwound, which was festering. The last news I heard of the man was thathe was expected to die.

Many persons are very partial to small boas, as wherever they take uptheir abode all rats disappear;[16] therefore they are seldom disturbedwhen found in granaries or the roofs of houses, though the reptile hasas great a partiality for eggs as for vermin. Our servants killed one,and found fourteen eggs in its stomach.

Passing, on our way to the great tribes of Sea Dayaks, through Sarawak,we picked up our home letters and newspapers, and transferred ourbaggage to a larger prahu, very comfortably fitted up, with a spaciouscabin in the centre.

At Muaratabas we joined the Jolly Bachelor pinnace, sending ourboat on in shore. Setting sail with a fair breeze, we soon reachedthe entrance of the Batang Lupar, which is marked by two conicalhills,—one the island of Trisauh, in the centre of the river, theother on the right bank. During our passage we observed some of thosefloating islands which wander over the face of the sea, at the mercy ofwind and wave. I remember once that the signalman gave notice that athree-masted vessel was ahead. We all fixed our telescopes on her, asat sea the slightest incident awakens interest: her masts appeared torake in an extraordinary manner. As we steamed towards her our mistakewas soon discovered; it was a floating island, with unusually tall nipapalms upon it, that were bending gracefully before the breeze.

On one occasion a man was found at sea making one of these hisresting-place. Doubtless he abandoned his island home cheerfully,though he fell into the hands of enemies. He told us that his piratecompanions, in hurried flight, had left him on the bank of a hostileriver, and so seeing a diminutive island[17] floating to the sea, he swamoff and got upon it, and he had been there many days, living upon thefruit he had found on the palm stems.

The origin of the islands is this: The stream occasionally wears awaythe steep bank under the closely united roots of the nipa, and somesudden flood, pressing with unusual force on the loosened earth, tearsaway a large portion of the shore, which floats to the mouth of theriver to be carried by the tides and currents far out to sea. Somefifteen miles off Baram Point, mariners tell of a great collection offloating trees and sea-weed, that forms an almost impassable barrier toships in a light breeze. Some action of the currents appears to causethis assemblage of floating timber always to keep near one spot, and tomove with a gyrating motion.

The Batang Lupar is in breadth from two to three miles, andoccasionally more: we never had a cast of less than three fathoms onthe bar, and inside it deepens to six. The banks are low, composedentirely of alluvial soil. Wind and tide soon carried us to our firstnight’s resting-place at the mouth of the Lingga river, some twentymiles from the embouchure of the Batang Lupar. It is small, andits banks have the usual flat appearance, relieved, however, by somedistant hills and the mountain of Lesong (a mortar), from a fanciedresemblance to that article to be seen in every Malay house.

We found our boat here, together with a large force from Sarawak. I hadtaken advantage of the chance to accompany Captain Brooke on one ofhis tours through the Sarawak territories. This was to induce all thebranches of the Sea Dayaks to make[18] peace with each other, and with thetowns of the coast, some of which they had so long harried.

While business detains the force at the mouth of the Lingga, I willdescribe Banting, the chief town of the Balau Dayaks, about ten milesup that stream. There are here about thirty long village houses, halfat the foot of a low hill, the others scattered on its face, completelyembowered in fruit-trees. From the spot where Mr. Chambers, themissionary, has built his house, there is a lovely view,—more lovelyto those who have long been accustomed to jungle than to any others.For here we have the Lingga river meandering among what appear to beextensive green fields, reminding me of our lovely meadows at home. Wemust not, however, examine them too closely, or I fear they will befound swamps of rushes and gigantic grass. Still the land is not theless valuable, being admirably adapted in its present state for thebest rice cultivation.

The Lingga river is famous for its alligators, which are both large andfierce; but, from superstitions to which I shall afterwards refer, thenatives seldom destroy them. In Sarawak there is no such prejudice. Itis a well-known fact, that no alligator will take a bait that is in anyway fixed to the shore. The usual mode of catching them is to fasten adog, a cat, or a monkey to a four or five fathom rattan, with an ironhook or a short stick lightly fastened up the side of the bait. Therattan is then beaten out into fibre for a fathom, to prevent its beingbitten through by the animal when it has swallowed the tempting morsel.Near a spot known to be frequented by alligators, the bait, with thislong appendage, is[19] placed on a branch about six feet above high-watermark. The cries of the bound animal soon attract the reptile; hesprings out of the water and seizes it in his ponderous jaws. Thenatives say he is cunning enough to try if it be fastened to the bank;but the real fact appears to be that the alligator never eats its fooduntil it is rather high. So that when fastened, finding he cannot takeaway his prize to the place where he usually conceals his food, henaturally lets it go. Gasing, a Dayak chief, saved his life when seizedby an alligator, by laying hold of a post in the water: the animal gavetwo or three tugs, but finding its prey immovable, let go.

Two or three days after the bait has been taken, the Malays seek forthe end of the long rattan fastened to it. When found, they give it aslight pull, which breaks the threads that fasten the stick up the sideof the bait, and it spreads across the alligator’s stomach. They thenhaul it towards them. It never appears to struggle, but permits itscaptors to bind its legs over its back. Till this is done they speakto it with the utmost respect, and address it in a soothing voice; butas soon as it is secured they raise a yell of triumph, and take it inprocession down the river to the landing-place. It is then draggedashore amid many expressions of condolence at the pain it must besuffering from the rough stones; but being safely ashore, their tone isjeering, as they address it as Rajah, Datu, and grandfather. It thenreceives its death at the hands of the public executioner. Its stomachis afterwards ripped open, to see if it be a man-eater. I have oftenseen the buttons of a woman’s jacket, or the tail of a Chinese, takenout.[20] The alligator always appears to swallow its food whole. Some menare very expert in catching these reptiles; I remember one Malay, whocame over from the Dutch possessions, capturing thirteen during a fewmonths, and as the Sarawak Government pay three shillings and sixpencefor every foot the beast measures, the man made a large sum.

Alligators sometimes attain to a very large size. I have never measuredone above seventeen feet six inches, but I saw a well-known animal, theterror of the Siol branch of the Sarawak, that must have been at leasttwenty-four or twenty-five feet long. The natives say the alligatordies if wounded about the body, as the river-worms get into the injuredpart, and prevent its healing; many have been found dying on the banksfrom gunshot wounds. In the rivers are occasionally found curious ballsof hair, five or six inches in diameter, that are ejected from thesereptiles’ stomachs,—the indigestible remains of animals captured.

I once lost an acquaintance in Sarawak who was killed by an alligator.He was seized round the chest by the jaws of an enormous beast thatswam with his prey along the surface of the water. His children, whohad accompanied him to bathe, ran along the banks of the river shoutingto him to push out the animal’s eyes; they say he looked at them, butthat he neither moved nor spoke, paralyzed, as it were, by the grip.

I am very partial to this tribe of Lingga Dayaks; they have alwaysshown so unmistakable a preference for the English—faithful underevery temptation, and ready at a moment’s warning to back them up witha force of a thousand men.

[21]

The lads, too, have a spirit more akin to English youths than I haveyet seen among the other tribes. I well remember the delight with whichthey learnt the games we taught them—joining in prisoner’s base withreadiness, hauling at the rope, and shouting with laughter at Frenchand English, represented by the names of two Dayak tribes. There isgood material to work on here, and it could not be in better hands thanthose of their present missionary, Mr. Chambers. That his teaching hasmade any marked difference in their conduct I do not suppose, but hehas influenced them, and his influence is yearly increasing.

It is pleasing to record a little success here, at the Quop, and atLundu, or we should have to pronounce the Borneo mission a completefailure.

The largest orang-utans I have ever heard of are in the Batang Lupardistricts. Mr. Crymble, of Sarawak, saw a very fine one on shore, andlanding, fired and struck him, but the beast dashed away among thelofty trees; seven times he was shot at, but only the eighth ball tookfatal effect, and he came crashing down, and fell under a heap of twigsthat he had torn in vain endeavours to arrest his descent. The nativesrefused to approach him, saying it was a trick—he was hiding to springupon them as they approached. Mr. Crymble, however, soon uncoveredhim, and measured his length as he lay: it was five feet two inches,measuring fairly from the head to the heel. The head and arms werebrought in, and we measured them: the face was fifteen inches broad,including the enormous callosities that stick out on either side; itslength was fourteen inches; round the[22] wrist was twelve inches, and theupper arm seventeen. I mention this size particularly, as my friend,Mr. Wallace, who had more opportunities than any one else to studythese animals, never shot one much over four feet, and perhaps maydoubt the existence of larger animals; but he unfortunately sought themin the Sadong river, where only the smaller species exists.

The Dayaks tell many stories of the male orang-utans in old timescarrying off their young girls, and of the latter becoming pregnant bythem; but they are, perhaps, merely traditions. I have read somewhereof a huge male carrying off a Dutch girl, who was, however, immediatelyrescued by her father and a party of Javanese soldiers, before anyinjury beyond fright had occurred to her.

During the time I lived at Sarawak, we had many tame orang-utans; amongothers, a half-grown female called Betsy. She was an affectionate,gentle creature that might have been allowed perfect liberty, had shenot taken too great a liking for the cabbage of the cultivated palms.When she climbed up one of these, she would commence tearing away theleaves to get at the coveted morsel, but shaking or striking the treewith a stick, would induce her to come down. Her cage was large, butshe had a great dislike to being alone, and would follow the men aboutwhenever she had an opportunity. At night, or when the wind was cold,she would carefully wrap herself in a blanket or rug, and of coursechoose the warmest corner of her cage.

After some months, we procured a very young male, and her delight wasextreme. She seemed to[23] take the greatest care of it; but like most ofthe small ones brought in, it soon died.

When I lived in Brunei, a very young male was given me. Not knowingwhat to do with it, I handed it over to a family where there were manychildren. They were delighted with it, and made it a suit of clothes.To the trousers it never took kindly; but I have often seen him puton his own jacket in damp weather, though he was not particular abouthaving it upside down or not. It was quite gentle and used to befondled by the very smallest children.

I never saw but one full-grown orang-utan in the jungle, and he kepthimself well sheltered by a large branch as he peered at us. He mighthave shown himself with perfect safety, as I never could bring myselfto shoot at a monkey; but a friend who was collecting specimens sawan enormous one in a very high tree: he fired ten shots at him with arevolver, one of which hit him on the leg. As in the case when I sawthe orang-utan, he kept himself well sheltered, but whenever a bulletglanced on a tree or branch near him, he put out his hand to feel whathad struck the bark. When he found himself wounded, he removed to thetopmost branches, and was quite exposed, but my friend’s guns were leftbehind him, and he failed to obtain this specimen.

It is singular that most of the orang-utans die in captivity, fromeating too much raw fruit. Betsy, that was fed principally on cookedrice, must have lived a twelvemonth with us. I was not in Sarawak whenshe died, and do not remember the cause.

On my return, finding that the arrangements were made, we started fora fort built at the entrance of[24] the Sakarang, which was under thecommand of Mr. Brereton, accompanied by the Sarawak forces and theBalau Dayaks. The real value of the Batang Lupar as a river adapted forships ceases shortly after leaving the junction, as sands begin, anda bore renders the navigation dangerous to the inexperienced; but itpresents a noble expanse of water. As we started after the flood tidehad commenced, the bore had passed on, and only gave notice of its latepresence by a little bubbling in the shallower places.

The banks of the river continue low, with only an occasional rising ofthe land; nothing but alluvial plains, formerly the favourite farminggrounds of the Dayaks, then completely deserted, or tenanted only bypigs and deer; but it was expected that as soon as the peace ceremonieswere over, the natives would not allow this rich soil to remainuncultivated, and the expectation has been fulfilled, as this abandonedcountry was, on my last visit, covered with rice farms, while villagesoccupied the banks.

After we had passed Pamutus, the site of the piratical town destroyedby Sir Henry Keppel, the river narrows, and is not above a hundredyards broad at the town of Sakarang, built at the confluence of a riverof the same name. The fort was rather an imposing-looking structure,though built entirely of wood. It was square, with flanking towers,and its heavy armament completely commanded the river, and rendered itsecure against any Dayak force.

This country was at the time influenced, rather than ruled, by the lateMr. Brereton, as his real power did not extend beyond the range ofhis guns. I never met a man who threw himself more enthusiastically[25]into a most difficult position, or who, by his imaginative mind andyet determined will, exercised a greater power over Dayaks by thesuperiority of his intellect. A stranger can scarcely realize a moredifficult task than that of endeavouring to rule many thousands ofwild warriors without being backed by physical force; but he did agreat deal, though his exertions were too much for his strength, andhe died a few years after, while engaged in his arduous task. In himthe Sarawak service lost an admirable officer, and we an affectionatefriend.

When we landed at the fort, we found a great crowd assembled to meetus, among whom were the principal Sakarang chiefs, as Gasing and Gila.Many were fine-looking men of independent bearing and intelligentfeatures. There were a few women about, but until the preliminaries ofpeace had been settled, they were not encouraged to come into the town.

It was found impossible to inquire into the origin of many of thequarrels, so Captain Brooke settled the matter by agreeing to giveeach party a sacred jar (valued at 8l.), a spear, and a flag.This was considered by them as satisfactory, and it was immediatelydetermined that the next day the formal ceremonies should take place toratify the engagement.

There is comparatively little difficulty in putting a stop to thepiratical acts of the Sakarangs, as the fort commands the river; butit is almost impossible to prevent them head-hunting in the interior,there being so many unguarded outlets by which the hostile tribes canassail each other. The Bugau Dayaks—a numerous and powerful tribe,living on the Kapuas,[26] and tributary to the Dutch—were principallyexposed to their expeditions, and their justifiable retaliations keptup the hostile feeling.

Whenever a head-hunting party was expected to be on its return, astrict watch was kept to prevent it passing the fort. One day, atsunset, a couple of light canoes were seen stealing along the riverbank, but a shot across their bows made them pull back: they darednot come up to the fort, having three human heads with them. Thesentries were doubled, and Mr. Brereton kept watch himself. About twohours before dawn, something was seen moving under the opposite bank.A musket was fired; but as the object continued floating by, it wasthought to be a trunk of a tree; but no sooner had it neared the pointthan a yell of derision arose, as the swimming Dayaks sprang into theboat, and pulled off in high glee up the Sakarang.

To prevent all chance of the hostile tribes of Sakarangs and Balausquarrelling before the treaty was concluded, it was arranged that thelatter tribe should remain at the entrance of the Undup, a stream abouttwo miles below the town, and that we should drop down to that spotnext day.

We found a covered stage erected, and a crowd of nearly a thousandBalau men around it, and in their long war boats: the Sakarangs camealso in large force, and our mediating party of about five hundredarmed men was there likewise.

Captain Brooke clearly explained the object of the meeting, when thetopic was taken up by the Datu Patinggi of Sarawak, who, with easyeloquence, briefly touched on the various points in question.[27] TheDayak chiefs followed; each protested that it was their desire to livein peace and friendship; they promised to be as brothers and warn eachother of impending dangers. They all appear to have a natural gift ofuttering their sentiments freely without the slightest hesitation.

The ceremony of killing a pig for each tribe followed; it is thoughtmore fortunate if the animal be severed in two by one stroke of theparang, half sword, half chopper. Unluckily, the Balau champion struckinartistically, and but reached half through the animal. The Sakarangscarefully selected a parang of approved sharpness, a superior onebelonging to Mr. Crookshank, and choosing a Malay skilled in the useof weapons placed the half-grown pig before him. The whole assemblywatched him with the greatest interest, and when he not only cut thepig through, but buried the weapon to the hilt in the mud, a slightshout of derision arose among the Sakarangs at the superior prowess oftheir champion. The Balaus, however, took it in good part and joined inthe noise, till about two thousand men were yelling together with allthe power of their lungs.

The sacred jar, the spear, and flag, were now presented to each tribe,and the assembly, no longer divided, mixed freely together. The Balauswere invited to come up to the town, and thus was commenced a goodunderstanding which has continued without interruption to the presenttime—about eleven years.

There are many kinds of sacred jars. The best known are the Gusi, theRusa, and the Naga, all most probably of Chinese origin. The Gusi,the most valuable[28] of the three, is of a green colour, about eighteeninches high, and is, from its medicinal properties, exceedingly soughtafter. One fetched at Tawaran the price of four hundred pounds sterlingto be paid in produce; the vendor has for the last ten years beenreceiving the price, which, according to his own account, has not yetbeen paid, though probably he has received fifty per cent. over theamount agreed on from his ignorant customer. They are most numerousin the south of Borneo. The Naga is a jar two feet in height, andornamented with Chinese figures of dragons; they are not worth aboveseven or eight pounds. While the Rusa is covered with what the nativeartist considers a representation of some kind of deer, it is worthfrom fifteen to sixteen pounds. An attempt was made to manufacturean imitation in China, but the Dayaks immediately discovered thecounterfeit.

We pulled up the Sakarang river to visit Gasing in his farmhouse, whichwas large, neat, and comfortable; in form and general appearance liketheir usual village houses. These Sea Dayaks are a very improvablepeople. I have mentioned the tender point of their character asdisplayed in Mr. Gomez’s school at Lundu, and another is their love ofimitation. A Sakarang chief noticed a path that was cut and properlyditched near the fort, and found that in all weathers it was dry, sohe instantly made a similar path from the landing place on the riverto his house, and I was surprised on entering it to see colouredrepresentations of horses, knights in full armour, and ships drawnvigorously, but very inartistically, on the plank walls. I found, oninquiry, he had been given some[29] copies of the Illustrated LondonNews, and had endeavoured to imitate the engravings. He usedcharcoal, lime, red ochre, and yellow earth as his materials.

The Sakarang women are, I think, the handsomest among the Dayaks ofBorneo; they have good figures, light and elastic; with well-formedbusts and very interesting, even pretty faces; with skin of so light abrown as almost to be yellow, yet a very healthy-looking yellow, withbright dark eyes, and long glistening black hair. The girls are veryfond of using an oil made from the Katioh fruit, which has the scent ofalmonds. Their dress is not unbecoming, petticoats reaching from belowthe waist to the knees, and jackets ornamented with fringe. All theirclothes are made from native cloth of native yarn, spun from cottongrown in the country. These girls are generally thought to be lively inconversation and quick in repartee.

The Sakarang men are clean built, upright in their gait, and of a veryindependent bearing. They are well behaved and gentle in their manners:and, on their own ground, superior to all others in activity. Theirnational dress is a chawat or waistcloth, and in warlike expeditionsthey are partial to bright red cloth jackets, so that when assembled ata distance, they look like a party of English soldiers. The Sakarangand Seribas men have the peculiar practice of wearing rings all alongthe edge of their ears, sometimes as many as a dozen. I thought thiscustom confined to them, but I find the Muruts of Padas, oppositeLabuan, also practise it.

Their strength and activity are remarkable. I have[30] seen a Dayak carrya heavy Englishman down the steepest hills; and when one of theircompanions is severely wounded they bear him home, whatever may bethe distance. They exercise a great deal from boyhood in wrestling,swimming, running, and sham-fighting, and are excellent jumpers. Whena little more civilized they would make good soldiers, being brave bynature. They are, however, short—a man five feet five inches highwould be considered tall, the average is perhaps five feet three inches.

We did not visit the interior of the Batang Lupar, but it is reportedto be very populous, and the Chinese are now working gold there. I havepenetrated to the very sources of the Sakarang, and found it, after acouple of days’ pull, much encumbered by drift-wood and rocks, withshallow rapids over pebbly beds. This interior is very populous, andfrom a view we had on a hill over the upper part of the Seribas River,as far as the hills in which the Kanowit rises, we could perceive butlittle old forest.

I may mention that the crime of poisoning is almost unknown on thenorth-west coast, but it is very generally believed the people of theinterior of the Kapuas, a few days’ walk from the Batang Lupar, aremuch given to the practice. Sherif Sahib, and many others who visitedthat country, died suddenly, and the Malays assert it was from poison;but of this I have no proof.

Near the very sources of the Kapuas live the Malau Dayaks, who areworkers in gold and brass, and it is very singular that members ofthis tribe can wander safely through the villages of the head-huntingSeribas and Sakarang, and are never molested,—on[31] the contrary, theyare eagerly welcomed by the female portion of the population, and theyoung men are not indifferent to their arrival; but the specimens oftheir work that I have seen do not show much advance in civilization.The Malau districts produce gold, and it is said very fine diamonds.

I will insert here an anecdote of the public executioner of Sakarang.Last year, a native was tried and condemned to death for a barbarousmurder, and according to the custom in Malay countries, the next daywas fixed for carrying out the sentence. A Chinese Christian lad, whowas standing near the executioner, said to him earnestly, “What! notime given him for repentance?” “Repentance!” cried the executioner,contemptuously. “Repentance! he is not a British subject.” A curiousconfusion of ideas. Both were speaking in English, and very goodEnglish.

I tasted here, for the first time, the rambi fruit, that lookssomething like a large grape, growing in bunches, pleasantly sweet, yetwith a slight acidity, yellow skin, with the interior divided into twofleshy pulps.

At the broadest part of the Batang Lupar, nearly four miles across, Isaw a herd of pigs swimming from one shore to the other. If pigs dothis with ease, we need not be surprised that the tigers get over theold Singapore Strait to devour, on a low average, a man a day.

On our return, while anchored at Pamutus, we saw the bore coming up,and it was a pretty sight from our safe position. A crested wave spreadfrom shore to shore, and rushed along with inconceivable speed, tosubside as it approached deep water, to commence[32] again at the sandswith as great violence when it had passed us. At full and change, fewnative boats escape which are caught on the shallows, but are rolledover and over, and the men are dashed breathless on the bank, fewescaping with life.

Some of our Malays went ashore last night to snare deer, while theBalaus tried for pigs. It used to be a very favourite hunting ground ofthe Dayaks, who are expert in everything appertaining to the jungle;they nearly always employ dogs, which are very small, not larger than aspaniel, sagacious and clever in the jungle, but stupid, sleepy-lookingcreatures out of it, having all the attributes of bad-looking, mongrelcurs as they lurk about the houses; but when some four or five are ledinto the jungle, dense and pathless as it is in most places, then theyare ready to attack a wild boar ten times their size. And the wild boarof the East is a very formidable animal. I have seen one that measuredforty inches high at the shoulder, with a head nearly two feet inlength. Sir Henry Keppel also was present when this was shot, and hethought a small child could have sat within its jaws. Captain Hamiltonof the 21st M. N. I., a very successful sportsman, killed one forty-twoinches high. Native hunting with good dogs is easy work; the masterloiters about gathering rattans, fruit, or other things of various usesto his limited wants, and the dogs beat the jungle for themselves, andwhen they have found a scent, give tongue, and soon run the animal tobay: the master knowing this by the peculiar bark, follows quickly andspears the game.

I have known as many as six or seven pigs killed[33] before midday byDayaks while walking along a beach: their dogs searching on the bordersof the forest, bring the pigs to bay, but never really attack till themaster comes with his spear to help them. The boars are very dangerouswhen wounded, as they turn furiously on the hunter, and unless he hasthe means of escape by climbing a tree, he would fare ill in spite ofhis sword and spear, if it were not for the assistance of his dogs.These creatures, though small, never give in unless severely wounded,and by attacking the hind legs, keep the pig continually turning round.

The Dayaks are very fond of pork, and fortunately it is so, or theywould be much more easily persuaded to become Mahomedans. They have asort of respect for the domestic pig, and an English gentleman was indisgrace at Lingga on account of allowing his dogs to hunt one thatthey met in the fruit-groves, which in any civilized country wouldhave been considered wild. The European sportsman said in his defence,that he could not help clapping his hands when he heard his dogs givetongue in chase. Upon a hot day a deer is soon run down by them; infact, hunters declare that they could easily catch them themselves invery dry weather, when the heat is extremely oppressive. The deer haveregular bathing-places to which they resort, sometimes during the day,and at others by night.

There are, I believe, only two kinds of deer in Borneo, one Rusa Balum,and the other Rusa Lalang. The former frequents low swampy ground, andhas double branched horns, averaging about eighteen inches in length.The Rusa Lalang is a small,[34] plump, hill deer, with short horns, andhaving one fork branch near the roots.

The Dayaks say there is another kind; but after making many inquiries,it appears to be the same as Rusa Balum. Occasionally you meet withdeer whose horns are completely encased in skin.

The natives snare them with rattan loops and nooses, fastened on along rope. They are of different lengths, varying from twenty to fiftyfeet. A number of these attached to each other, and resting on the topsof forked sticks, they stretch across a point of land where they havepreviously ascertained that deer are lying. After they have arrangedthe snares, the party is divided, one division watching them, andthe other landing on the point; barking dogs and yelling men rush uptowards the snare, driving the game before them; the deer, though theysometimes lie very close, generally spring up immediately and dart offbewildered, rushing into the nooses, catching their necks or theirfore legs in them; the men on the watch dash up and cut them down, orspear them before they can break through. They sometimes catch as manyas twenty in one night, but generally only one or two; snaring may becarried on either in the light or dark.

The evening we set sail from the Batang Lupar, we had a discussionon Marsden’s theory of the land and sea breezes; one of our partydenied the correctness of the authority whom we looked upon as notto be challenged in all that relates to the Eastern Archipelago. Atmidnight the land breeze commenced blowing, as the ocean does retainthe heat longer than the land, and at midday the sea breeze set in,which[35] carried us pleasantly onward, passing the mouths of the Seribasand Kalaka, to our anchorage in the noble river of Rejang. We did nottriumph over our adversary, but recommended him to study Marsden morecarefully. On the bar at the entrance of this river at dead low water,we had one cast which did not exceed three fathoms, but I do not thinkwe were in the centre of the channel.

At the entrance of the Rejang is a small town of Milanaus, a peoplediffering greatly from the Malays in manners and customs; someconverted to Islamism are clothed like other Mahomedans, while thosewho still delight in pork dress like Dayaks, to which race theyundoubtedly belong. Their houses are built on lofty posts, or ratherwhole trunks of trees are used for the purpose, to defend themselvesagainst the Seribas.

It is stated that at the erection of the largest house, a deep holewas dug to receive the first post, which was then suspended over it; aslave girl was placed in the excavation, and at a signal the lashingswere cut, and the enormous timber descended, crushing the girl todeath. It was a sacrifice to the spirits. I once saw a more quietimitation of the same ceremony. The chief of the Quop Dayaks was aboutto erect a flag-staff near his house: the excavation was made, and thetimber secured, but a chicken only was thrown in and crushed by thedescending flag-staff.

I made particular inquiries of Haji Abdulraman, and his followers, ofMuka, whilst I was in Brunei last year. They said that the Milanausof their town who remained unconverted to Islamism have within thelast few years sacrificed slaves at the death of a respectable[36] man,and buried them with the corpse, in order that they might be readyto attend their master in the other world. This conversation tookplace in the presence of the Sultan, who said he had often heard thereport of such acts having been committed. One of the nobles presentobserved that such things were rare, but that he had known of a similarsacrifice taking place among the Bisayas of the River Kalias, oppositeour colony of Labuan. He said a large hole was dug in the ground, inwhich was placed four slaves and the body of the dead chief. A smallsupply of provisions was added, when beams and boughs were thrownupon the grave, and earth heaped to a great height over the whole. Aprepared bamboo was allowed to convey air to those confined, who werethus left to starve. These sacrifices can seldom occur, or we shouldhave heard more of them. There were rumours, however, that at the deathof the Kayan chief Tamawan, whom I met during my expedition to theBaram, slaves were devoted to destruction, that they might follow himin the future world.

In front of the houses were erected swings for the amusem*nt of theyoung lads and the little children. One about forty feet in heightwas fastened to strong poles arranged as a triangle, and kept firm intheir position by ropes like the shrouds of a ship. From the top hunga strong cane rope, with a large ring or hoop at the end. About thirtyfeet on one side was erected a sloping stage as a starting-point.Mounting on this, one of the boys with a string drew the hoop towardshim, and making a spring into it, away he went. Other lads were ready,who successively sprung upon the ring or seized the rope, until therewere[37] five or six in a cluster, shouting, laughing, yelling andswinging. For the younger children smaller ones were erected, as itrequired courage and skill to play on the larger.

The Rejang is one of the finest rivers in Borneo, and extends far intothe interior. We ascended it upwards of one hundred miles, and neverhad less than four fathoms. Mr. Steel, who lived many years at theKanowit fort, told me that it continued navigable for about forty milesfarther, then there were dangerous rapids, but above them the wateragain deepened. The Rejang has many mouths, but the principal are theone we entered, and another to the eastward of Cape Sirik, called Egan.Its tributaries below the rapids are the Sirikei, the Kanowit, and theKatibas, the last two very populous.

Above the junction, the Rejang is about a mile and a half broad,with islets scattered over it, but afterwards it contracts to abouta thousand yards, and has a fine appearance. The scenery here is notvaried by hill or dale; the land is low, but the banks were renderedinteresting by the varied tints of the jungle; blossoms and youngleaves were bursting out in every variety of colour, from the faintestgreen to the darkest brown.

The air was filled with a kind of may-fly in astonishing numbers; Ihave never seen anything like it before or since: they fell by myriadsinto the water, and afforded a feast to thousands of fish that rosewith a dash to the surface, covering the river with tiny wideningcircles.

During our passage up we had an instance of the insecurity to whichthe head-hunters formerly reduced[38] this country. We landed at a placecalled Munggu Ayer (water hill) to bathe; a party of our men insistedon keeping watch over us, as many people had lost their lives here.Being a good spot to procure water, boats are accustomed to take intheir supplies at this well, and the Dayaks lurked in the neighbouringjungle to rush out on the unwary.

Anchored opposite the entrance of the Kanowit, where it was intended tobuild a fort to stop the exit of the fleets of Dayak boats that used todescend this river to attack the people of the Sago countries. Leavingthe force thus engaged, I went and took up my residence in the villageof the Kanowit Dayaks, built opposite the entrance of that stream. TheRejang is here about 600 or 700 yards broad.

The village consisted of two long houses, one measuring 200 feet, theother 475. They were built on posts about forty feet in height and someeighteen inches in diameter. The reason they give for making theirposts so thick is this: that when the Kayans attack a village they dragone of their long tamuis or war boats ashore, and, turning it over, useit as a monstrous shield. About fifty bear it on their heads till theyarrive at the ill-made palisades that surround the hamlets, which theyhave little difficulty in demolishing; they then get under the house,and endeavour to cut away the posts, being well protected from thevillagers above by their extemporized shield. If the posts are thin,the assailants quickly gain the victory; if very thick, it gives thegarrison time to defeat them by allowing heavy beams and stones to fallupon the boat, and even to bring their little brass[39] wall pieces tobear upon it; the Kayans will fly if they suffer a slight loss.

The Kanowit Dayaks are a very different people from those who liveon the river of the same name; the latter are all immigrants fromthe Seribas and Sakarang. The appearance of these people is veryinferior; few of them have the fine healthy look of those I saw aboutMr. Brereton’s fort; the women are remarkably plain, and scarcelypossess what is so common in Borneo, a bright pair of eyes; ophthalmiais very prevalent among them, partly caused by their extracting theireyelashes. They have another custom which is equally inelegant; theydraw down the lobes of their ears to their shoulders, by means of heavylead earrings.

Some of the men are curiously tatooed; a kind of pattern covers theirbreast and shoulders, and sometimes extends to their knees, having muchthe appearance of scale-armour. Others have their chins ornamented toresemble beards, an appendage denied them by nature.

I have never before entered a village without noticing some interestingchildren, but I observed none here; though active enough, they lookedunhealthy and dirty.

Belabun, the chief of this tribe, has had, from his position, avery extensive intercourse with men, particularly with the Kayans,who inhabit the upper portion of the river. One of our objects invisiting the country was to proceed to the interior to make friendswith the numerous Kayan chiefs who live there; but the small-pox had,unfortunately, broken out among them, and the ascent of the river wasforbidden,[40] and all had fled into the forest. I much regretted this,as I never had another opportunity of ascending the Rejang. I will notintroduce here the information we collected concerning the Kayans, as Iintend giving an account of the visit I made shortly after to a branchof those people who lived on the Baram.

It is singular how the story of the men with tails has spread. I haveheard of it in every part I have visited, but their country is alwaysa few days’ journey farther off. The most circ*mstantial account Iever had was from a man who had traded much on the north-east coast ofBorneo. He said he had seen and felt the tails, they were four incheslong, and were very stiff, so that all the people sat on seats in whichthere was a hole made for this remarkable appendage to fit in.

Sherif Musahor, a chief of Arab descent, and one of the most violentmen that ever tormented these countries, arriving from Siriki, camein to see us; he is a very heavy-looking fellow; at one time we weregreat friends, as we were equally fond of chess. It is not my object toenter into political affairs, but I may mention that having instigatedthe murder of two Englishmen he fled north, and after a variety ofadventures found himself in 1861 at the head of a band of desperadoesat a place called Muka. Sir James Brooke had often been reported dead,and on his arrival at Sarawak the news spread like wildfire along thecoast. Sherif Musahor, greatly disturbed, called before him a Madrastrader and asked him, “Did you see the Rajah?”

“Yes.”

[41]

“Had he all his teeth perfect?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, you lie! when I saw him last he had a front tooth knocked out.”

The Madras man saw the fiery look of this desperate chief, but withoutlosing his presence of mind for a moment, answered, “What, have you notheard that the Rajah bathed in the waters of the Nile, and that it hasrestored his youth again?”

His reply was satisfactory to all the Mahomedans present, who believeimplicitly in every wonder told in the Arabian Nights.

One afternoon, it being a very warm day, we were reclining on ourmats, when a burst of wailing and howling around us told that bad newshad been received. One of the chiefs brothers had returned from theinterior and brought the following intelligence: It appeared that abouttwo years and a half ago, a younger brother longing to see the world,had started off to the sources of the Kapuas river, which ultimatelyfalls into the sea at Pontianah, a Dutch settlement, taking with himthirteen young men; he travelled on till he reached a Kayan tribe withwhom his people were friends, and stayed with them for a few months.One day their hosts started on a head-hunting expedition, and invitedseven of their guests to accompany them: the latter never returned,having all been killed by the Kayans themselves. Why or wherefore itis impossible to tell, but it is supposed that having failed in theirhead-hunt, and being ashamed to return to their women without thesetrophies, they had fallen upon their guests. Their remaining companionsbeing in a neighbouring village[42] escaped. Belabun, anxious to have newsof his brother, had sent the one who had just returned to look for him.He patiently tracked him, but meeting with the seven survivors, helearnt the fate of his brother; they returned overland, but the youngchief, impatient to reach home, made a bark canoe, in which he reachedthe village.

Belabun and his people were greatly excited, and moved about the housein a restless and anxious manner, while the wailing of the femalerelatives was very distressing, particularly of the young girl whom thewanderer left as a bride.

It may appear incredible that even the wildest people should commit sotreacherous a deed, but before the Kanowit was well guarded, a Sakarangchief from the interior, named Buah Raya, passed with fifty war boatsand pulled up the Rejang. Arriving at a village of Pakatan Dayaks,his allies, he took the men as his guides to attack some Punans, who,however, escaped; mortified at this result he killed the guides, andon his return carried off all the women and children as captives. Thiswas the chief who refused to enter an English church, saying “an oldman might die through entering the white men’s tabernacle.” He would orcould give no explanation of this observation.

These Kanowits follow the Millanau custom of sending much of a deadman’s property adrift in a frail canoe on the river: they talk of allhis property, but this is confined to talk.

We heard so much of the deceased chief’s goods, which were to be thrownaway, as it is considered they belong to the departed and not to thosewho[43] remain, that we went to the place where they lay. We found a sortof four-sided bier erected, covered with various coloured cloths, andwithin it his bride widow lay moaning and wailing, surrounded by hisfavourite arms, his gongs, his ornaments, and all that he consideredvaluable. Among his treasures was the handle of a kris, representingthe figure of Budha in the usual sitting posture, which they said haddescended to them from their ancestors.

As I expected, these valuables were not sent adrift, but merely a fewold things, that even sacrilegious strangers would scarcely think worthplundering.

A short time before the Rejang came under Sir James Brooke’s sway, arelation of Belabun died. Having no enemy near, he looked about for avictim. Seeing a Dayak of the Katibas passing down the river, he and asmall party followed and overtook him just as he reached the junction;they persuaded him to come ashore, and then seized and killed him,taking his head home in triumph. As this murder took place before SirJames Brooke’s jurisdiction extended over the country, it was difficultto bring him to account, but on the relations coming to demandsatisfaction, Captain Brooke insisted upon his paying the customaryfine, which satisfied the Katibas.

The second chief of this village is Sikalei, who, when one of hischildren died, sallied out and killed the first man he met—they sayit was one of his own tribe, but it was the custom to kill the firstperson, even if it were a brother: fortunately they now are broughtunder a Government which is strong enough to prevent such practices.

[44]

They are a very curious people; the men dress as Dayaks, the women asMalays; and the latter part their hair in the middle, while all theother races draw it back from the forehead. They appear to be muchinfluenced in their customs by the surrounding people; the men tatoolike Kayans, the women not.

We saw a very curious war-dance; two men, one of a Rejang tribe, theother from a distant river, commenced a sham fight, with sword andshield; one of them was dressed as a Malay, the other as a Dayak. Withslow side movements of their arms and legs, advancing and retreating,cutting and guarding to a measured step, and in regular time; then theychanged to quick movements, stooping low till the shield completelycovered them: with a hopping, dancing motion they kept giving andreceiving blows till one of them fled; the other immediately followed,but cautiously, as the fugitive was supposed to plant spikes in thepath. At last they again met, and after a fierce combat one was slain,and the victor with a slow dancing step approached the body and wassupposed to cut off the head of his enemy; but, on looking at itattentively, he found he had killed a friend, and showed signs of muchgrief. With a measured tread, he again drew near the body and pretendedto restore the head; he retired and advanced several times, shaking thevarious limbs of the friend’s body, when the slain sprang up as livelyas ever, and the two wound up by a frantic dance.

I have mentioned the ceremonies that took place at the solemnizationof peace between the Sakarangs and Balaus; here they were slightlydifferent. A pig[45] was placed between the representatives of two tribes,who, after calling down the vengeance of the spirits on those who brokethe treaty, plunged their spears into the animal, and then exchangedweapons. Drawing their krises, they each bit the blade of the other’s,and so completed the affair. The sturdy chief of Kajulo declared heconsidered his word as more binding than any such ceremony.

In the neighbourhood of the Kanowit, and scattered about thesecountries, are the wandering tribes of Pakatan and Punan, which seldombuild regular houses, but prefer running up temporary huts, and whenthey have exhausted the jungle around of wild beasts and other food,they move to a new spot. They are the great collectors of wax, ediblebirds’ nests, camphor and rattans. They are popularly said to be fairerthan the other inhabitants of Borneo, as they are never exposed to thesun, living in the thickest part of the old forest. Those we have seenwere certainly darker, but they themselves assert that their women arefairer. It is probable that exposure to the air has as much effectupon them as exposure to the sun. I have often met with their littlehuts in the forest and used them as night lodgings, but I have nevercome across these wild tribes. I have seen individual men, but nevercommunities.

The Pakatans and Punans are the true manufacturers of the Sumpitan, orblow-pipe; and in their hands it is a formidable weapon. It is curiousto examine this product of their skill; and we cannot but admire theaccuracy with which the hole is drilled through a hard wood shaft someseven or eight feet long.

[46]

I had often heard of the deadly effect of the poison into which thearrow was dipped, but always disbelieved the bulk of the nativestories, though I must believe in the evidence we have lately had.In 1859, the Kanowit tribe, instigated by Sherif Musahor, murderedtwo English gentlemen, and then fled into the interior. Mr. Johnson,who led the attack on them, tells me he lost thirty men by woundsfrom the poisoned arrows. He found the bodies of Dayaks who had goneout as skirmishers without a mark, beyond the simple puncture wherea drop of blood rested on the wound. One man was struck near him; heinstantly had the arrow extracted, the wound sucked, a glass of brandyadministered, and the patient sent off to the boats about four milesdistant. Two companions supported him, and they had strict orders notto allow him to sleep till he reached the landing-place: they made himkeep awake, and he recovered. As it is common to destroy deer, wildboars and other creatures with these arrows, no doubt man also can bekilled.

I will now give an account of the manners and customs of the SeaDayaks.

Ceremonies at the Birth of a Child—Infanticide—Desirefor Children—A Talkative and Sociable People—GreatConcord in Families—Method of Settling Disputes—MarriageCeremonies—Pride of Birth—Chastity—Punishmentof Indiscreet Lovers—Bundling andCompany-keeping—Love—Anecdotes—Separations—Division ofHousehold Duties—Flirting—Divorce—Burials—Religion—Beliefin a Supreme Being—Good and Evil Spirits—TheSmall-pox—Priests—Some Dress asWomen—Mourning—Sacrifices—Human Sacrifices—UnluckyOmens—Reconciliation—Belief in a Future State—The otherWorld—Dayaks Litigious—Head-feast—Head-hunting—ItsOrigin—Horrible Revenge—Small InlandExpeditions—Cat-like Warfare—Atrocious Case—LargeInland Expeditions—War-boats—Edible Clay—Necessityfor a Head—Dayaks very Intelligent—Slaves—Objectionsto Eating certain Animals, or Killing others—Change ofNames—Degrees of Affinity within which Marriages may takeplace—Sickness—Cholera—Manufactures—Agriculture—Method oftaking Bees’ Nests—Lying Heaps—Passports—Ordeals—Language.

At the Birth of Children.—The Sea Dayaks naturally look uponthis as a very ordinary event; occasionally guns are fired to celebrateit, but even that practice has almost fallen into disuse. However, afew months after the birth of the infant, the Sakarang Dayaks give afeast in its honour, which generally takes place before they commencepreparing their land for the rice crop, and another after the harvestto “launch the child” on the world. During these feasts the manang, orpriest, waves the odoriferous areca-blossom[48] over the babe, and movesabout the house chanting monotonous tunes. The festival lasts a day anda night. The Dayak women suffer very little at their confinements, andseldom remain quiet beyond a few days. They are very anxious to havechildren, but if they have a preference, it is for boys; and when theonly child is a daughter, they often make a vow to fire guns and give afeast, should the next prove a son.

It is very singular, that though these Dayaks are exceedingly fond oftheir offspring, yet infanticide sometimes occurs among the BatangLupars; arising, it is said, from a selfish feeling of affection.One man confessed to Mr. Johnson that he had put an infant to death,because all the children born to him previously had died just as theyarrived at an age when he could fondly love them. He said he couldnot endure to think that it should occur to him again. But this musthave been a rare instance, since they feel acutely the loss of theirchildren, and wander about inconsolable, and mope, and often refuse towork for months. They do not bear misfortunes well; even the loss ofhouses by fire, or their crops from bad seasons, disheartens them to anextent that is surprising to those who have watched the conduct of theSeribas Dayaks. The piratical pursuits in which these latter delightedhave certainly given great energy to their character; and they recoverimmediately from the effects of the destruction of their villages andof their property, and set to work to create more wealth.

The Sea Dayaks, as I have observed, generally prefer male children; andthe more mischievous and boisterous they are when young the greaterthe[49] delight they afford their parents. The observation, “He is verywicked,” is the greatest praise. They indulge them in everything,and at home give way to their caprices in an extraordinary manner.If the parents are affectionate to their children, the latter warmlyreturn it. Instances have even occurred when, oppressed by sorrow atthe reproaches of a father, a child has privately taken poison anddestroyed himself.

Like other tribes in the same state of civilization, the Dayaks arefond of oratory; and while the elders are discoursing or deliveringlong speeches, the young lads look gravely on, never indulging in alaugh, which would be regarded as a serious offence.

The Dayaks are a very sociable people, and love to have their familiesaround them; grandfathers spoil their grandchildren; and during theheavy work of the harvest, the very old ones stay at home surrounded bymerry groups of young ones.

Strangers are generally very welcome; and it would be an annoying ideato enter into their heads that they were considered either mean orinhospitable. So the wayfarer is presented on his arrival with the bestfood in the house. Occasionally it is not very welcome to a European,as it too often consists of fish that emits a very high scent, or eggsof a very ancient date; but there is generally some fruit, or a littleclean boiled rice. I was once presented with some preserved durianfruit, which stank so fearfully as to drive my friends completely outof the house. But the greatest luxury that can be presented to a nativeis always forthcoming, and that is the box of areca nuts, and the otherchewing condiments.

[50]

Parents and children, brothers and sisters, very seldom quarrel;when they do so, it is from having married into a family with whomafterwards they may have disputes about land. One would imagine thatwas a subject not likely to create dissensions in a country likeBorneo; but there are favourite farming grounds and boundaries are notvery settled. It used to be the practice not to have recourse to armson those occasions, but the two parties collecting their relatives andfriends would fight with sticks for the coveted spot. Now, however,their disputes are brought to their chiefs, or the nearest Englishofficer.

Marriage.—Among the Sibuyau Dayaks of Lundu, no ceremonyattends a betrothment, but when the consent of the parents of thebride has been obtained, an early day is appointed for the marriage.As a general rule, the husband follows the wife, that is, lives withand works for the parents of the latter. On the wedding day, the brideand bridegroom are brought from opposite ends of the village to thespot where the ceremony is to be performed. They are made to sit on twobars of iron, that blessings as lasting, and health as vigorous, as themetal may attend the pair. A cigar and betel leaf prepared with theareca nut are next put into the hands of the bride and bridegroom. Oneof the priests then waves two fowls over the heads of the couple, andin a long address to the Supreme Being, calls down blessings upon thepair, and implores that peace and happiness may attend the union. Afterthe heads of the affianced have been knocked against each other threeor four times, the bridegroom puts the prepared siri leaf and the cigarinto the mouth of the bride, while she does the same[51] to him, whom shethus acknowledges as her husband. The fowls are then killed, and theblood caught in two cups, and from its colour the priest foretells thefuture happiness or misery of the newly married. The ceremony is closedby a feast, with dancing and noisy music.

It is worthy of remark that the respect paid by a son-in-law to thefather of his wife is greater than that paid to his own father. Hetreats him with much ceremony, must never pronounce his name, nor musthe take the liberty of eating off the same plate, or drinking out ofthe same cup, or even of lying down on the same mat.

Among the Balaus, or Sea Dayaks of Lingga, there is also no ceremony ata betrothment; in fact, Mr. Chambers informs me that the word is notknown in their language. Indeed their manners preclude the necessity ofany such formal arrangement.

Marriage itself is a very simple affair, and is not accompanied by anylong rite. However, as it is different from that practised in Lundu, Iwill enter into particulars.

Two or three days previous to the ceremony, the mother of thebridegroom usually gives the bride’s relations a plate or a basin.The wedding takes place at the house of the girl, and the rite iscalled blah pinang, or the splitting of the prepared areca nut. It isdivided into three portions, and the mother, after placing them in alittle basket, and covering them over with a red cloth, sets them ona raised altar in front of the bride’s house. The respective friendsof the families then meet in conclave and enjoy the native luxury ofprepared areca nut;[52] and it is now determined what shall be the finepaid in case the husband should separate from his wife after she shallbe declared pregnant, or after she has borne a child. This is a verynecessary precaution, as I shall have presently to show.

I may notice that among these Dayaks there is great pride of birth, andthat parents will seldom consent to their daughter’s marrying a man ofvery inferior condition. Many lamentable occurrences have arisen fromthis, among other causes, which I will mention when treating of love.As a general rule, if the bride be an only daughter, or of higher rank,the husband joins her family—if he be of higher rank, or an only son,she follows him, and then she is conducted under a canopy of red clothto the house of his parents. If they should be of equal condition andsimilarly circ*mstanced, they divide their time among their respectivefamilies, until they set up housekeeping on their own account.

There are three subjects of which I must now treat,—and they arethe chastity of the women, love, and divorce. I find it difficult toreconcile the statements that I have to make; they are modest, andyet unchaste, love warmly and yet divorce easily, but are generallyfaithful to their husbands when married.

In looking over the notes I have collected, both of my own andthose that I have received from my friends, I find them apparentlyirreconcilable; but I will endeavour to make them intelligible.

The Sibuyaus, though they do not consider the sexual intercourse oftheir young people as a positive crime, yet are careful of the honourof their daughters, as they attach an idea of great indecency topromiscuous[53] connection. They are far advanced beyond their brethren inthis respect, and are of opinion that an unmarried girl proving withchild must be offensive to the superior powers, who, instead of alwayschastising the individual, punish the tribe by misfortunes happening toits members. They, therefore, on the discovery of the pregnancy finethe lovers, and sacrifice a pig to propitiate offended Heaven, and toavert that sickness or those misfortunes that might otherwise follow;and they inflict heavy mulcts for every one who may have suffered fromany severe accident, or who may have been drowned within a month beforethe religious atonement was made; lighter fines are levied if a personbe simply wounded.

As these pecuniary demands fall upon the families of both parties,great care is taken of the young girls, and seldom is it foundnecessary to sacrifice the pig. After marriage the women also aregenerally chaste, though cases of adultery are occasionally broughtbefore the Orang Kayas.

Among the Dayaks on the Batang Lupar, however, unchastity is morecommon; but the favours of the women are generally confined to theirown countrymen, and usually to one lover. Should the girl prove withchild, it is an understanding between them that they marry, and menseldom, by denying, refuse to fulfil their engagements. Should,however, the girl be unable to name the father, she is exposed to thereproaches of her relatives, and many to escape them have taken poison.In respectable families they sacrifice a pig, and sprinkle the doorswith its blood, to wash away the sin; and the erring maiden’s position[54]is rendered so uncomfortable that she generally tries to get away fromhome.

In the account of the Land Dayaks, I will mention the manner in whichthe young lover approaches the curtains of his mistress. As this seldomends in immorality, it may be likened to the Welch and Afghan bundling.The Sea Dayaks have the same practice of seeking the girls at night;and as the favoured lover is seldom refused entrance to the curtains,it may be compared to the system of company-keeping which obtains inmany of our agricultural counties, where the brides have children acouple of months after marriage. The morality of the Sea Dayaks is,perhaps, superior to the Malays, but inferior to that of the LandDayaks.

During one of my visits to the Sakarang I heard a story which israther French in its termination. A young man proposed to a girl andwas accepted by her, but her parents refused to give their consent, ashe was of very inferior birth. Every means was tried to soften theirhearts, but they were obstinate, and endeavoured to induce her to giveup her lover and marry another. In their despair the lovers retired tothe jungle, and swallowed the poisonous juice of the tuba plant: nextmorning they were found dead, with their cold and stiff arms entwinedround each other. Cases are not of very rare occurrence among theSakarang Dayaks, where disappointed love has sought solace in the grave.

Of the warmth of married affection, I have never heard a more strikinginstance than the following:—the story has been told before, but it isworth repeating. Ijau, a Balau chief, was bathing with his wife[55] in theLingga river, a place notorious for man-eating alligators, when IndraLela, a Malay, passing in a boat remarked,—“I have just seen a verylarge animal swimming up the stream.” Upon hearing this, Ijau told hiswife to go up the steps and he would follow; she got safely up, but he,stopping to wash his feet, was seized by the alligator, dragged intothe middle of the stream, and disappeared from view. His wife hearing acry turned round, and seeing her husband’s fate sprang into the river,shrieking,—“Take me also,” and dived down at the spot where she hadseen the alligator sink with his prey. No persuasion could induce herto come out of the water: she swam about, diving in all the places mostdreaded from being a resort of ferocious reptiles, seeking to die withher husband; at last her friends came down and forcibly removed her totheir house.

About two miles below the town of Kuching, is a place called TanahPutih. Here a man and his wife were working in a small canoe, whenan alligator seized the latter by the thigh and bore her along thesurface of the water, calling for that help, which her husband swimmingafter, in vain endeavoured to afford. The bold fellow with a kris inhis mouth neared the reptile, but as soon as he was heard, the beastsank with his shrieking prey and ended a scene almost too painfulfor description. Two days afterwards the body, unmangled, was foundhidden in some bushes, which partly confirms my previous remark, thatalligators do not immediately swallow their prey.

Husbands and wives appear to pass their lives very[56] agreeably together,which may partly be caused by the facility of divorce. Many men andwomen have been married seven or eight times before they find thepartner with whom they desire to spend the rest of their lives. I sawa young girl of seventeen who had already had three husbands. Thesedivorces take place at varied times, from a few days after marriage,to one or two years. However, after the birth of a child, they seldomseek to separate, and if they do the husband is fined, but not thewife. The work of the family is divided, though perhaps the female hasmost continued labour. The man builds and repairs the houses and boats,fells all the heavy timber at the farm, brings home the firewood, andvery often nurses the baby. The wives are very domestic, and in theirway carefully attend to household duties; they cook, clean the rice,feed the pigs and poultry, spin the yarn, weave the cloth, and make theclothes. A wife is also expected to be polite to visitors, to bring outher finest mats, and offer the interminable areca nut to her guests.

As the wife works hard, she is generally very strong and capable oftaking her own part. She is very jealous of her husband, much more sothan he is of her. If he be found flirting with another woman, the wifemay inflict a severe thrashing on her, but only with sticks, while ifthe offending woman have a husband, he may do the same to the man. Toescape these domestic broils, he generally starts off into the jungle,and pretends to or really does go head-hunting.

The causes of divorce are innumerable, but incompatibility of temperis perhaps the most common;[57] when they are tired of each other theydo not say so, but put the fault upon an unfavourable omen or a baddream, either of which is allowed to be a legitimate cause of divorce.Should they, however, be still fond of each other, the sacrifice ofa pig will effectually prevent any misfortune happening to them fromneglecting to separate. Partners often divorce from pique, or from apetty quarrel, and are then allowed to come together again without anyfresh marriage ceremony. Among the Balau Dayaks, it is necessary forthe offended husband to send a ring to his wife, before the marriagecan be considered as finally dissolved, without which, should theymarry again, they would be liable to be punished for infidelity.

I may add, that as the wife does an equal share of work with herhusband, at a divorce she is entitled to half the wealth created bytheir mutual labours.

Burials.—Among the Sea Dayaks, corpses are usually buried;although, should a man express a wish to share the privilege of thepriests and be, like them, exposed on a raised platform, the relationsare bound to comply with this request.

Immediately the breath has left the body, the female relations commenceloud and melancholy laments; they wash the corpse, and dress it inits finest garments, and often, if a man, fully armed, and bear itforth to the great common hall, where it is surrounded by its friendsto be mourned over. In some villages a hireling leads the lament,which is continued till the corpse leaves the house. Before this takesplace, however, the body is rolled up in cloths and fine mats, kepttogether by pieces of bamboo tied on with rattans, and taken to theburial-ground.[58] A fowl is then killed as a sacrifice to the spirit whoguards the earth, and they commence digging the grave from two and ahalf to four and a half feet deep, according to the person’s rank;deeper than five feet would be unlawful. Whilst this operation is goingon, others fell a large tree, and cutting off about six feet, split itin two, and then hollow them out with an adze. One part serves as thecoffin, the other as the lid; the body is placed within, and the twoare secured together by means of strips of pliable canes bound roundthem.

After the coffin is lowered into the grave, many things belonging tothe deceased are cast in, together with rice, tobacco, and betel nut,as they believe they may prove useful in the other world, or as it iscalled by them Sabayan.

It was an old custom, but now perhaps falling somewhat into disuse,to place money, gold and silver ornaments, clothes, and various chinaand brass utensils in the grave; but these treasures were too greattemptations to those Malays who were addicted to gambling; and therifling of the place of interment has often given great and deservedoffence to the relations. As it is almost impossible to discover theoffenders, it is now the practice to break in pieces all the utensilsplaced in the grave, and to conceal as carefully as possible thevaluable ornaments. The whole tribe of the Lundu Sibuyaus was throwninto a great state of excited indignation on finding that some Malayshad opened the place of interment of the old Orang Kaya Tumanggong ofLundu, and stolen the valuable property. This was the chief who was sofirm a friend of the Europeans, and whose[59] name is so often mentionedin former works on Borneo.

The relatives and bearers of the corpse must return direct to the housefrom which they started before entering another, as it is unlawful orunlucky to stop, whatever may be the distance to be traversed.

They are often very particular about the dress in which they are tobe buried. Many of the old Sakarang women have asked Mr. Johnson forhandsome jackets to be used after their death for this purpose, sayingthat when they arrived in the other world, they would mention his namewith respect and gratitude on account of the kindness shown to them inthis.

The Dayaks who have fallen in battle are seldom interred, but a palingis put round them to keep away the pigs, and they are left there. Thosewho commit suicide are buried in different places from others, as itis supposed that they will not be allowed to mix in the seven-storiedSabayan with such of their fellow-countrymen as come by their death ina natural manner or from the influences of the spirits.

It is very satisfactory to be able to state that the Sea Dayaks have aclear idea of one Omnipotent Being who created and now rules over theworld. They call him Batara; beneath him are many good and innumerablebad spirits, and the fear of the latter causes them to make greaterofferings to them than to the good spirits. The awe with which manyof them are named has induced a few, among others, Mr. Chambers, toimagine that their religion is a species of polytheism. But that is,I think, clearly a mistake: as well might a Mahomedan declare that[60]Christians were Polytheists, because Roman Catholics believe in theinterposition of the Virgin and of the saints, and because members ofall sects fear the wiles of Satan. It is a common saying among theDayaks, “With God’s blessing we shall have a good harvest next year.”

Mr. Gomez, who has lived nine years among the Sibuyaus, and Mr.Johnson, who has mixed with all sections of the Sea Dayaks stilllonger, take my view. There are evil spirits of various kinds whor*side in the jungles, or the mountains, or the earth: all sicknesses,misfortunes, or death, proceed from them, while to Batara is attributedevery blessing.

But when they make offerings, both are propitiated, and, as usual,the wicked have the larger share. The priests offer a long prayer,and supplicate them to depart from the afflicted house, or from thesick man. Of the seven platefuls of food, four are given to the evilspirits, and cast forth or exposed in the forests, while the othersare offered to the good spirits, who are implored to protect andbless them. The food offered to the latter is not considered to beinterdicted, but may be, and is always, eaten.

The Lingga Dayaks, besides Batara, have various good spirits—asStampandei, who superintends the propagation of mankind; Pulang Ganah,who inhabits the earth and gives fertility to it, and to him areaddressed the offerings at the feasts given whilst preparing the ricecultivation; Singallong Burong, the god of war, excites their utmostreverence, and to him are offered the head feasts. On those occasions,he comes down and hovers in the form of a kite over the house, and gunsare fired and gongs are beaten[61] in his honour: his brave followersmarried to his daughters appear in the form of their omen birds.No wonder he is honoured: he gives success in war, and delights intheir acquisition of the heads of their enemies. Nattiang inhabitsthe summits of the hills, and is one of their demigods. The Linggastell many stories of his exploits: the most famous was his expeditionto the skies to recover his wife, who had been caught in a noose andhoisted up there by his old enemy, Apei Sabit Berkait. To dream ofhim is to receive the gift of bravery. Mr. Chambers would add much toour knowledge of these people if he would make a collection of theirstories and ballads.

Among the Sakarangs the belief in one Supreme Being is clear, andthey do not appear to have any inferior deities who approach him inattributes: they have demigods, good and bad spirits, but no sharer ofGod’s throne. They believe that the good and bad spirits have the powerto prevent, or to enable them to succeed in any object they may have inview. They, therefore, make offerings to them, particularly when any oftheir family are suffering from illness.

When the small-pox was committing sad havoc among those villagerswho would not allow themselves to be inoculated, they ran into thejungle in every direction, caring for no one but themselves, leavingthe houses empty, and dwelling far away in the most silent spots, inparties of two and three, and sheltered only by a few leaves. Whenthese calamities come upon them, they utterly lose all command overthemselves, and become as most timid children. Those seized with thecomplaint are abandoned: all they[62] do is to take care that a bundle offirewood, a cooking-pot, and some rice, are placed within their reach.On account of this practice, few recover, as in the delirium they rollon the ground and die.

When the fugitives become short of provisions, a few of the old menwho have already had the complaint creep back to the houses at nightand take a supply of rice. In the daytime they do not dare to stir orto speak above a whisper for fear the spirits should see or hear them.They do not call the small-pox by its name, but are in the habit ofsaying, “Has he yet left you?” at other times, they call it jungleleaves or fruit; and at other places the datu or the chief. Thosetribes who inoculate suffer very little.

Their priests frequently use the names of the invisible spirits, andare supposed to be able to interpret their language, as well as tohold communion with them; and in ordinary times they pretend to workthe cure of the sick by means of incantations, and after blinding thepatient’s eyes, pretend by the aid of the spirits to draw the bones offish or fowls out of their flesh. When the Dayaks are questioned asto their belief in these easily-exposed deceits, they say no; but thecustom has descended to them from their ancestors, and they still paythese priests heavy sums to perform the ancient rites.

Though these priests are of course men, yet some pretend to be women,or rather dress as such, and like to be treated as females. In Lingga,however, out of thirty, only one has given up man’s attire. Many ofthe priests are the blind and maimed for[63] life, who by following thisprofession are enabled to earn a livelihood.

If a Dayak lose his wife, he gives a feast, which is really an offeringto the departed spirit. After the death of relatives, they seek for theheads of enemies, and until one is brought in they consider themselvesto be in mourning, wearing no fine clothes, striking no gongs, nor islaughing or merry-making in the house allowed; but they have a steadydesire to grieve for the one lost to them, and to seek a head of anenemy, as a means of consoling themselves for the death of the departed.

At the launching of a new boat, preparatory to head-hunting, thespirits presiding over it are appeased and fed, and the women collectin and about it, and chant monotonous tunes; invoking the heavenlyspirits to grant their lovers and husbands success in finding heads, bywhich they may remove their mourning and obtain a plentiful supply ofthe luxuries and necessaries of life.

The principal sacrifice of the Sakarang Dayaks is killing a pig andexamining its heart, which is supposed to foretell events with theutmost certainty. As an instance: should they find a dead animal onland prepared for a farm, according to their established custom,they should give it up, and commence a new one; but if the seasonfor burning the jungle be passed, they endeavour to avert this lossby consulting the heart of a pig. The animal is sacrificed, and thegreatest attention is given to the signs discovered upon his heart:if they be satisfactory, the farm land may be used; if not, it iscompletely abandoned.

After their great head feasts, they also examine[64] the hearts of pigs,and their gray-headed leaders surround and look extremely grave overthe bleeding spectacle which they one by one turn over with the pointof a stick to examine the run and position of the veins; each as hedoes it offers some sapient remark; and the result generally is, thatthere are still numerous enemies, but far away: but however powerfulthese may be, they themselves are more powerful, and in the end willovercome them.

Not many years ago, Rentap, the pirate chief, who formerly resided ina stronghold on the summit of the Sadok mountain, took a Sakarang ladprisoner. Although one of his own race, he determined on putting himto death, remarking—“It has been our custom heretofore to examine theheart of a pig, but now we will examine a human one.” The unfortunateboy was dragged about for some time by the hair of his head, and thenput to death and his heart examined.

It is reported that many years ago a Sibuyau chief sacrificedsome prisoners on the graves of two of his sons, who, in the sameexpedition, had been killed by his enemies.

To hear the cry of a deer is at all times considered unlucky; and toprevent the sound reaching their ears during a marriage processiongongs and drums are loudly beaten. On the way to their farms, shouldthe unlucky omen be heard, they will return home and do no work for aday.

It is a very curious custom also, that if two men who have been atdeadly feud, meet in a house, they refuse to cast their eyes upon eachother till a fowl has been killed and the blood sprinkled over them;and,[65] as already fully described, when two tribes make peace, aftersolemn engagements are concluded, a pig is killed, the blood of whichis supposed to cement the bond of friendship.

They believe in a future state—considering that the Simañgat, orspiritual part of man, lives for ever, that they awake shortly afterdeath in Sabayan or the future abode, and that there they find those oftheir relatives and friends who have departed before them. The Sibuyausdivide their Sabayan into seven distinct stories, which are occupied bythe souls of the departed according to their rank and position in life.The really wicked occupy the lowest; but, whether happy or miserable,they acknowledge ignorance.

The Dayaks are very litigious, and few would have the patience toinvestigate one of their cases. The amateur lawyers of a tribe areacute in inquiry, quick in making retorts, and gifted with wonderfulmemories, generally referring to precedents of the customs of theirforefathers in the settlement of fresh cases.

A head feast consists in a general meeting of the tribe in the man’shouse who gives the entertainment. He prepares for it two or threemonths before it takes place, collecting fish, fowls, eggs, plantains,and other fruits, and in manufacturing an intoxicating drink from rice.When all these things are ready, poles are cut of various lengths, onefor each of the heads that may be there to be rejoiced over; thereare also fantastically-shaped wooden birds, which undergo variousevolutions in the house; and, after the feast is over, are placed onthe top of the before-mentioned poles, with their heads turned[66] inthe direction of the enemies’ country. The people, dressed in theirbest clothes, collect in the house, and commence the feast by all theyouthful portion of the community engaging in co*ck-fighting—realco*ck-fights, too often with very formidable steel spurs. They are verypartial to this amusem*nt, and will go far and pay much for a goodbird, and will bet heavily on a well-known co*ck.

After some hours engaged in this amusem*nt, they commence drinkingand eating, a part of the ceremony which does not entice the Europeanstranger, nor can the peculiar smell increase his appetite. It is anextraordinary accumulation of food: fowls roasted with their featherson, and then torn joint from joint; eggs black from age, decayed fruit,rice of all colours and kinds, strong-smelling fish, almost approachinga state of rottenness; and their drink having the appearance and thethickness of curds, in which they mix pepper and other ingredients. Ithas a sickening effect upon them, and they swallow it more as a dutythan because they relish it. Before they have added any extraneousmatter it is not unpleasant, having something of the taste of sprucebeer.

They have then several processions, each headed by chiefs marching withgrave countenances, and followed by a youthful crowd. Their movementsare not graceful while parading about a house, as they put their bodiesinto the stiffest postures. The women also, adorned with trappingsand beads of every colour, walk up and down, scattering yellow riceabout the house and on the heads of the men. The feast lasts threedays and nights, and winds up by their becoming[67] amicably intoxicated,always excepting the women, who do not drink, but take care of theirdrunken husbands and relatives. This feast is intended as an offeringto Batara, on account of their success against enemies, and as athanksgiving for a plentiful harvest. To fail in this testimony ofgratitude would be grievous in their eyes. The Sea Dayaks follow thecustom of Pamali, or taboo, and believe in omens.[1]

Head-hunting.—This practice has no doubt obtained among theDayaks from the earliest times, and when carried on by the interiortribes very few lives were lost; but it much retarded the progress ofthe country, as it rendered life and property insecure. The Sakarangand Seribas, within the memory of living men, were a quiet, inoffensivepeople, paying taxes to their Malay chiefs, and suffering much fromtheir oppressive practices,—even their children being seized and soldinto slavery. When the Malay communities quarrelled they summonedtheir Dayak followers around them, and led them on expeditions againsteach other. This accustomed the aborigines to the sea; and being foundhard-working and willing men, the Malays and Lanun pirates took themout in their marauding expeditions, dividing the plunder—the heads ofthe killed for the Dayaks, the goods and captives for themselves.

Gradually they began to feel their own strength and superiority ofnumbers. In their later expeditions the Malays have followed ratherthan led. The longing these Dayaks have acquired for head-hunting issurprising. They say, “The white men read books, we hunt for headsinstead.” Until the[68] Sarawak Government curbed their proceedings theywere known to coast down as far as Pontianak, and occasionally theyhad been met forty miles out at sea in their rattan-tied boats, someof them seventy feet in length. In rough weather most of the crew jumpoverboard and hold on to the sides while the rest bale the boat out.They say, when this occurs in places suspected to be frequented bysharks, they each tie a bundle of the tuba plant round their ancles todrive the devouring fish away. The juice of the tuba is the one used tointoxicate fish.

About thirteen years ago, I heard the Natuna people give an account ofa horrible transaction that took place in one of their islands. A partyof Seribas Dayaks were cruising about among the little isles near,and had destroyed several women and many fishermen, when they wereobserved, towards evening, creeping into a deep and narrow inlet toremain during the night. The islanders quietly assembled and surprisedtheir enemies, killing all but seven, who were taken prisoners—sixmen and one lad. The former they roasted over a slow fire, and theydeclared that the bold fellows died without uttering a cry of pain, butdefying them to the last; the lad, who stood trembling by, uncertain ofhis fate, was sent back to the coast with a message to his countrymen,that if they ever came there again, they would be all treated in thesame way. This fearful warning was sufficient to deter their seekingheads again in that direction.

Parties of two and three sometimes went away for months on an inlandincursion, taking nothing with them but salt wrapped up in theirwaist-cloths,[69] with which they seasoned the young shoots, and leaves,and palm cabbages, found in the forests; and when they returned home,they were as thin as scarecrows. It is this kind of cat-like warfarewhich causes them to be formidable enemies both to the Chinese and theMalays, who never feel themselves safe from a Dayak enemy. They havebeen known to keep watch in a well up to their chins in water, with acovering of a few leaves over their heads to endeavour to cut off thefirst person who might come to draw water. At night they would driftdown on a log, and cut the rattan cable of trading prahus, while othersof their party would keep watch on the bank, knowing well where thestream would take the boat ashore; and when aground they kill the menand plunder the goods.

An atrocious case happened many years ago up the Batang Lupar, where ayoung man started on an expedition by himself to seek for a head from aneighbouring tribe. In a few days he came back with the desired prize.His relatives questioned him how it was he had been away so few days,as they had never been able to do the same journey in double the time.He replied gravely that the spirits of the woods had assisted him.

About a month afterwards a headless trunk was discovered near one oftheir farms, and on inquiry being made, it was found to be the bodyof an old woman of their own tribe, not very distantly related to theyoung fellow himself. He was only fined by the chief of the tribe, andthe head taken from him and buried.

If a large party intended starting under a leader of[70] any note, theywaited till he had first built a hut not far from the village, andlistened for an omen from the cry of the birds. As soon as a goodone was heard, they started; and when a certain distance from home,stopped and held a consultation, in which they decided on the mode ofattack, and how the heads, captives, and plunder should be divided.Large rivers intervening did not deter them, as they could always buildboats, tying them together with rattans, each being capable of holdingabout thirty men. On their return they hid the planks in the jungle, tobe used on a future occasion.

Their war boats are well constructed and good models, and very fast;some will hold as many as sixty or seventy men, with two months’provisions. The keel is flat, with a curve or sheer of hard wood. Along one does not exceed six fathoms, and upon it they will build aboat of eleven fathoms over all. The extra length of planks, whichoverlap, is brought up with a sheer. They caulk the seams with a barkwhich is plentiful in the jungle. No other fastenings but rattans areused.

They paint their boats red and white,—the former is generally anochre, but occasionally they use a kind of red seed pounded; the whiteis simply lime, made from sea shells. In their boat expeditions theyalways take a supply of red ochre to eat, in case of becoming short ofother provisions; and we once found in some deserted Seribas’ prahusmany packets of a white oleaginous clay used for the same purpose. Thebark they employ for caulking is very tough, and beaten out, servesto make useful and comfortable coverlets, as well as waist-cloths andhead-dresses.

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I have mentioned that the possession of a head is necessary to enablethe Dayaks to leave off mourning. I once met the Orang Kaya Pamancha ofSeribas, the most influential chief in the country. He was dressed innothing but a dirty rag round his loins, and thus he intended to remainuntil the mourning for his wife ceased by securing a head. Until thishappens they cannot marry again, or appease the spirit of the departed,which continues to haunt the house and make its presence known bycertain ghostly rappings. They endeavour to mollify its anger by thenearest relative throwing a packet of rice to it under the house everyday, until the spirit is laid to rest by their being able to celebratea head feast: then the Dayaks forget their dead, and the ghosts of thedead forget them. When passing a burial-ground, however, they throw onit something they consider acceptable to the departed.

In writing about head-hunting, I should more frequently employ the pasttense, as all those portions of these tribes, which have been broughtunder English influence, are rapidly losing these customs; and couldany profitable agricultural industry be introduced among them, theywould soon expend their energies in money-making.

The Dayaks are exceedingly quick in commercial transactions; and mostof them who did not know the value of a piece of money six years agoare now active traders. They are said to be more acute than Malays, sothat even the Chinese find they cannot cheat them after the first year.They are hoarding, though liberal according to custom; but generallythey are much disposed to be avaricious and closefisted.[72] The Malayssometimes make good bargains with them by using soft and flatteringlanguage, but the Dayaks often repent of being so wheedled, and willclaim justice before the courts.

The Sea Dayaks, contrary to ancient custom, have the habit of keeping afew slaves, and are generally kind masters; but the system has been avery bad one, as many unfortunate people have become so in consequenceof the debts or the crimes of their parents or grand-parents. It isscarcely right to give the name of slaves to these people, as on thepayment of the original debt or fine they become free.

They have no graven images, nor do they practise any outward or visiblesigns of idolatry, nor have they any mode of religious worship furtherthan a solemn attention to superstitious practices and observances.Several Dayaks have an objection to eating the flesh of pigs, deer, andother animals; but it is because they are afraid of getting certaincomplaints, as skin diseases, and the custom becomes hereditary, asmany families are subject to them; or it arises from the fear of goingmad; or as some married women tremble to touch deer’s flesh previouslyto the birth of their firstborn; or because they have received warningin dreams not to touch a particular kind of food. Their religiousopinions do not forbid them to eat any kind of animals.

The Sea Dayaks, however, would not intentionally kill a cobra, onespecies of the lizard, or owls, or any of their birds of omen. Thereare, also, certain animals and other birds which many families abstainfrom injuring; in some cases, owing to a dream;[73] in others, to helptraditionally received from them by an ancestor. In others, it isforbidden to kill a civet cat, an orang-utan, or an alligator; andthey give such reasons as the following:—“One of my ancestors, aclever man, cured a sick alligator, and then they made an agreementthat neither should injure the other.” Another said, when hisgreat-grandfather first settled at the hill of Banting, the orang-utanabounded there. Their enemies once came to attack the place, but wererepulsed by the assistance of the orang-utans, who crowded to theedge of the fruit groves to glare on the strangers, and were probablymistaken for men. As a reason for not destroying the cobra, they say,“It has always been forbidden, those who dream of them are lucky, andoften do the great spirits put on the forms of snakes.”

They sometimes change their names after severe sickness, when theirpriests recommend it on the restoration of health. And, also, in theevent of a slave becoming free, his late master gives a feast upon theoccasion of manumitting him, and proclaims his freedom in public. Theyoften present a spear upon the occasion, the meaning of which is that,if he be again claimed as a slave, the spear may be used to put todeath his former master.

It is contrary to custom for a man to marry a first cousin, as theylook upon them as sisters. No marriage is allowed with aunt or niece,and some objection is made in a few of the communities to a manmarrying a deceased wife’s sister, or a woman taking her husband’sbrother; but these customs are not always followed, and I have heard ofuncles marrying[74] nieces, and a marriage with a deceased wife’s sisteris also permitted, provided her parents approve of the man; and it isthen often encouraged by them in order to bring up the children as onefamily.

Their priests have little or no knowledge of medicine, but trust,in most cases, to their occult sciences. In ordinary sickness therelatives are attentive, but not so, as I have said, when there is asweeping epidemic, as small-pox; in such cases they think it to beuseless striving against so formidable a spirit. When cholera was inthe country, the Dayaks lost comparatively few, as they healed thosetaken with it by rubbing and warmth; but the Malays appeared to havedone everything they should not have done—drinking, when in health,nothing but hot water, taking no exercise, and only eating a littlerice; the consequence was they were too weak to strive against thecomplaint when seized. The most successful system practised by thenatives appears to be to rub the stomach and limbs with cajput oil(kayu putih oil), and administer a strong dose of spirits immediatelythe first symptoms are perceived. It is said a few drops of the oilare also given with success. When the cholera, after committing greatravages in the capital, appeared among the Muruts and Bisayas ofLimbang, they all fled from their villages, retiring to the hills andthe depths of the forest; their loss was very slight.

The women manufacture a coarse cloth; making and dyeing their ownyarn, beating out the cotton with small sticks, and, by means of aspinning-wheel, running it off very quickly. The yarn is not so fineas what they can buy of English manufacture, but it[75] is stronger, andkeeps its colour remarkably well; and no cloth wears better than Dayakcloth.

Their agricultural pursuits are limited in number, and with littlelabour the soil yields sufficient crops to supply their wants. Theyplant rice once a year; those who live on dry and high land have alsocotton and tobacco. They grow enough sugar-cane for their own eating,not for making sugar; and they are so eager for gain, that it wouldnot be difficult to induce them to plant crops requiring only ordinarysuperintendence. They sow the cotton-seed after the rice harvest. Theiragricultural instruments are strong swords, made by themselves fromimported iron, used for cutting grass or young jungle; and a kind ofsmall axe and adze in one, by turning the iron in its socket. Thisinstrument they use in shaping out planks for boats, and for fellingthe larger trees; and, in their hands, it brings down the timber asfast as an English axe would in the hands of a backwoodsman. One methodthey adopt for getting rid of old jungle is this:—first of all, theyclear away the underwood and the branches near the ground, then withtheir axes they cut the larger trees more than half through; at last,choosing some giant of the forest, they fell it completely: in itsfall it drags all the others after it, as they are connected togetherby twining creepers of great size and strength. It is a dangerouspractice, and requires care to avoid the wide-spread fall, that comesto the earth with an awful crash.

They obtain bees’-wax from the nests built on the tapang tree, andclimb the loftiest heights in search of it, upon small sticks, whichthey drive as they advance up the noble stem that rises above ahundred[76] feet free of branches, and whose girth varies from fifteen tofive-and-twenty feet. Once these pegs are driven in, their outer endsare connected by a stout rattan, which, with the tree, forms a kind ofladder.

It requires cool and deliberate courage to take a bee-hive at so greatan elevation, where, in case of being attacked by the bees, the almostnaked man would fall and be dashed to atoms. They depend upon theflambeaux they carry up with them, as, when the man disturbs the hive,the sparks falling from it cause, it is said, the bees to fly down inchase of them, instead of attacking their real enemy, who then takesthe hive and lowers it down by a rattan string. The bees escape unhurt.This plan does not appear to be as safe as that pursued by the PakatanDayaks, who kindle a large fire under the trees, and, throwing greenbranches upon it, raise so stifling a smoke that the bees rush forth,and the man ascending takes their nest in safety. Both these operationsare generally conducted at night, although the second might be, Iimagine, practised in safety during the day.

There is a custom existing among the Dayaks of the Batang Lupar whichI have not heard of elsewhere. Beside one of the paths in the Undupdistrict there are several heaps of sticks; and in other places,of stones, called “tambun bula,” or lying heaps. Each heap is inremembrance of some man who has told a stupendous lie, or disgracefullyfailed in carrying out an engagement; and every passer-by takes a stickor a stone to add to the accumulation, saying, at the time he does it,“For So-and-so’s lying heap.” It goes on for generations, until theysometimes forget[77] who it was that told the lie; but, notwithstandingthat, they continue throwing the stone.

At another place, near many cross roads, there is a tree on which arehung innumerable pieces of rag; each person passing tears a little bitof cloth from his costume and sticks it there. They have forgotten theorigin of this practice, but fear for their health if they neglect it.One Dayak observed, “It is like that custom of some European nationsgiving passports to those who enter or leave their country.” If this bea true explanation, it is, perhaps, to give the spirits of the woodsnotice who have passed that way, and the Dayak’s observation shows howquick they are, and how well they remember what they have heard.

They practise various ordeals; among others, two pieces of nativesalt, of equal weight, are placed in water; that appertaining to theguilty party melts immediately; the other, they affirm, keeps itsform; but, in fact, the one that disappears first proves the owner tobe in the wrong. Another is with two land shells, which are put on aplate and lime-juice squeezed upon them, and the one that moves firstshows the guilt or innocence of the owner, according as they havesettled previously whether motion or rest is to prove the case. Theytalk of another, where the hand is dipped into boiling water or oil,and innocence is proved by no injury resulting. The favourite ordeal,however, is the dipping the head under water, and the first who puts uphis face to breathe loses the case.

I need only observe, concerning their language, that the Sibuyaus,the Balaus, the Undups, the[78] Batang Lupars, the Sakarangs, Seribas,and those inhabitants of the Rejang living on the Kanowit and Katibasbranches, all speak the same language, with no greater modificationsthan exist between the English spoken in London and Somersetshire. Theyare, in fact, but divisions of the same tribe; and the differences thatare gradually growing up between them principally arise from thosewho frequent the towns and engage in trade, using much Malay in theirconversations, and allowing their own words to fall into disuse. Theagricultural inhabitants of the farther interior are much more slowlyinfluenced.

Unaccountable Panic—Man Overboard—Fishing—CoastScenery—Baram Point—Floating Drift—Pretty Coastto Labuan—Thunder and Lightning Bay—Bar of theBrunei—River Scenery—The Capital—Little Children inCanoes—Floating Market—Kayan Attack—The Present Sultan’sStory—Fire-arms—Devastation of the Interior—Customs of theKayans—Upas Tree—View of the Capital—The Fountains—TheBaram—Kayan Stratagem—Wild Cattle—Banks of the River—GadingHill—Ivory—Elephants on North-east Coast—Hunting—StartlingAppearance—Town of Langusin—Salutes—FirstInterview—Graves—Wandering Kanowits—Appearance ofthe Kayans—Visit Singauding—Religion—Houses—HugeSlabs—Skulls—Women tatooed—Mats—Visit the Chiefs—DrinkingChorus—Extempore Song—Head-hunting—Effect ofSpirits—Sacrifice—Ceremony of Brotherhood—Effect ofNewly-cleared Jungle—War Dance—Firewood—Customs—Origin ofBaram Kayans—Vocabulary—Trade—Birds’ Nests—Destructionof Wealth—Manners and Customs—Iron—Visit EdibleBirds’ Nest Caves—The Caves—Narrow Escape—Two Kindsof Swallows—Neat House—Visit of Singauding—Visit toSi Obong—Her Dress—Hip-lace—Her Employments—FarewellVisit—Fireworks—Smelting Iron—Accident—Departure—KayansCannibals—Anecdotes—Former Method of Trading—UnwelcomeVisitors.

In April, 1851, the steamer Pluto, Acting Commander Brett,arrived in Sarawak with directions to take me on an official visit toBrunei and Baram. Sarawak was at that time suffering from one of thoseunaccountable panics which sometimes seize on both large and smallcommunities. The report was that a[80] French fleet was outside preparingto attack the place. People packed up their valuables, and some evencarried them off to the forest. The only way we could account for itwas the news of the recent destruction of the capital of Sulu by theSpaniards having by this time spread over the Archipelago, and beendistorted in various ways.

Starting from Sarawak, we steered our course to the island of Labuan.One evening on a bright, starlight night, we were all sitting on thebridge of the vessel, when we were startled by the cry of a “manoverboard.” To stop the steamer, pull the trigger that disengagedthe flaming life-buoy, and to let down the boats, did not take manyminutes, and they soon pushed off from the sides. While we stood onthe deck with strained attention, a sharp cry was heard; then therewas a dead silence, followed immediately by the sound of the oars inthe rowlocks as the men gave way towards the life-buoy that was seenfloating astern like a bright torch dancing on the waves. We thought weheard another fainter cry, but the mind in great tension will imaginethese things. We could distinguish amid the sound of splashing waterthe distant shouts of the men as the crews hailed each other, but noanswer was given to our captain’s eager inquiries, as the rustling ofthe wind in our rigging, and those varied sounds that ever will arisearound a ship laying to, drowned his voice. The anxiety of all wasintense as the boats pulled back, and a sickening feeling came overus all when we found that their search had been unavailing. Eitherstrength had failed the man, or a shark had seized him before he couldreach the life-buoy. The[81] passionate grief of the son of the drownedPortuguese now struck painfully on our ears, and I was not sorry togain the refuge of the inner cabin.

In sailing along this coast fine fish and small sharks are often caughtby hook and line trailing out far behind the vessels. The Tañgiri fishis perhaps the finest: the usual size obtained varies from three tofive feet, and it has something of the look of a salmon, without itsrichness of flavour. We have caught also many young sharks, but allunder five feet; in fact, anything larger would carry away the bait,hook, and all. Young shark is often eaten, both by Malays and Chinese.I have tasted it, and thought it very coarse; but at sea even thatchange is palatable.

The coast line between Sarawak and Baram point is the least beautifulof the north-west coast. Scarcely any but hills far in the interiorare seen, and the land is either flat or gently undulating hill anddale, but with few distinctive features. However, in the depth of thegreat bay that lies between Points Sirik and Baram, near the river ofBintulu, there are some fine mountains; and once, during a very clearday, I thought I saw a far distant peak, which might be that of Tilong,according to native report, higher than Kina Balu. Bintulu is now thenorthern boundary of the territories of Sarawak.

Although I have said the appearance of this coast is not picturesque,yet in the eye of one who looks to the commercial and agriculturaladvantages, it is satisfactory. Broad plains of alluvial soil, as rich,perhaps, as any in the world, and a fine succession of swelling hilland dale afford some compensation to one who, as I do, looks upon thiscoast as[82] capable of as much development as a similar space in Java.

Between Bintulu and Baram there are two remarkable serratedmountains—Siluñgan and Lambir; but in this ninety miles of coast onesmall village only is to be found, and unless you penetrate far intothe interior, there are but a few wandering Punans and others whoinhabit it.

Baram is a dangerous point to ships, as it lies low and the sea shoalsrapidly. Here in the rainy season the fresh water rushes out with somuch force, as to carry it unmixed four or five miles from land, wherenative prahus often take in their supplies. Large trunks of trees arecontinually floating about, which are brought down from the interior,and are very dangerous to small vessels, and many a Malay trader hasowed to them his ruin. Off Sirik Point a prahu struck and immediatelysunk. Her captain reported a rock, but as the coast near was simplyalluvial deposit, and the fishermen who frequent this spot have neverfound it, it is generally thought that he suffered from a submergedtree.

I was once a passenger on board a frigate while she sailed by thispoint. We were sitting below, and heard her distinctly strike, and agrating sound as of crushed coral was audible. “On shore again,” wasthe general observation: we went on deck, to find her running beforethe wind at ten knots an hour. We had, I believe, simply passed overone of these huge trunks. I have mentioned elsewhere the mass offloating weeds and trees that continually gyrates in a circle aboutfifteen miles off this point.

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Although my object was to visit the Baram river, yet I was obliged topass on to Labuan and Brunei to obtain interpreters and guides. As weapproached our little English colony we found our coal was all used,and we could scarcely reach the harbour, although we burnt a horse-boxand everything available on board.

The coast line between Baram and Brunei is very pretty. As we approachthe capital, the interminable jungle gives way to grassy hills, witha park-like distribution of timber. Curling wreaths of smoke risingfrom the shaded valleys, told us that the inhabitants were numerous. Inthe far distance we could see the great mountain of Molu, the loftiestknown, except Kina Balu: the latter was visible to-day, although about120 miles off; it looked like a huge table mountain rising from thesea, all intervening ground being lost in the distance.

We reached Labuan the day before the Queen’s birthday, in time to bepresent at the official dinner given by Governor Scott. I shall takeanother opportunity to notice this island.

We heard on our arrival that Mr. Low, the Colonial treasurer, had madean attempt to reach the summit of Kina Balu. It was generally saidhe had failed; but many years after, I was able to prove that he hadreached to within a few hundred feet of the very highest peaks.

After some days’ stay to coal, we started for the capital, which liesabout thirty-three miles to the S.S.W. The bay opposite Labuan is oneof the most striking on the coast. The mountains commence within a fewmiles of the shore, and tower in successive[84] ranges to Brayong, and SiGuntang, about 8,000 feet in height.

By naval men this is called Thunder-and-Lightning Bay, and it welldeserves the name, as scarcely a day passes without some heavy squallsweeping down from the mountains, while the brightest lightningflashes, and the thunder rolls and re-echoes among the hills.

The entrance to the inner bay, into which so many rivers pour theirwaters, is five fathoms, and with a little care as to the known marks,of easy entrance. To the right is the low island of Muara, reputeddeadly; but I have stayed there many times, and none of my peoplesuffered. Keeping along the southern shore of the island, the channelis reached, and as we approach the true entrance of the Brunei riverthe scenery becomes lovely.

To the right is the island of Iñgaran, with its remains of Spanishbatteries; to the left, picturesque Chermin. No ship of any size canenter the river, as eight feet at low water, and fourteen at high, iswhat the bar affords, which is also rendered more difficult by a longartificial dam of stones thrown across the stream in former times toprevent the approach of hostile squadrons. The water, however, hasforced an angular passage to the right, through which vessels areobliged to pass. It is one of the worst rivers for commercial purposesin Borneo.

Beautiful hills rise sharply from the banks; some are wooded, withclumps of lofty palms pushing their way up through the jungle, whileothers are cleared, presenting swelling grassy summits and greenslopes. Before us the honoured hill of Sei rises, and forms, as itwere, an abrupt termination of the river. The[85] Borneans take a pride inthis hill that overshadows their town, although its elevation is but700 feet.

Turning sharply to the right, we saw the first houses of the capitalof Borneo, by the natives called Dar’u’salam, or the Abode of Peace,and which has been truly described as the “Venice of hovels.” Thesalt-water creek or river here expands to a small lake, and onmud-banks are the houses, built on the slenderest of piles—mere palms,that rot in three years. Slow, sluggish, and muddy, the water passesunderneath, to leave, at ebb tide, exposed banks emitting the mostoffensive effluvia, which turns the gold and silver of uniforms to thecolour of dirt.

As soon as we had anchored, the steamer was surrounded by a crowd ofcanoes, some so small as scarcely to float a child of five years ofa*ge—in fact, but a hollowed log. Mothers do not fear to trust theirchildren in them, as they swim like fishes. It is a saying in Siam,that their children can do three things at a tender age—swim, smoke,and suck. I once saw a child at the breast, but with one eye fixedon his brothers paddling in the water; presently it gave a crow ofdelight, and leaving its mother’s arms, sprang into the river to enjoythe fun. He was not more than three years old.

The whole town appeared to be interested in our arrival, for, as wepassed up the broad and deep river between the lines of houses, crowdsof men, women, and children thronged the verandahs.

The floating market mentioned by Forrest was there also—severalhundred canoes, each containing one or two women, covered over with mathats a yard in diameter, floated up and down about the town,[86] pullingthrough the water lanes and resting for a while in the slack tide atthe back of the houses. These women, generally ill-favoured old slaves,frequent this migratory assemblage every day, and buy and sell fowls,vegetables, fish, and fruit.

The supply of food for this population of five-and-twenty thousandrequires some arrangement: so every morning a market is held at variouspoints, where the hill people assemble and exchange their agriculturalproduce for salt, fish, iron, and clothes. The old women are diligentfrequenters of these places, and buy here to retail in the capital.

I have often come across these extemporized markets: some held undergroves of fruit-trees; others on grassy fields, but, by choice oraccident, always in a lovely spot.

We had not long been anchored when the Sultan and ministers sentmessengers on board, to inquire the news and invite me to a meeting.They are very anxious about the result of my visit to the Kayans, asthere is little doubt that this slave-acquiring and head-hunting peopleare destroying the interior population.

To-day they had received news that three long war-boats of theirenemies had been dragged over into the waters of the upper Limbang;that they had attacked a party of the Sultan’s Murut subjects, andkilled six, after which they had immediately returned to their owncountry. It is evident that the Borneans are in great fear of theultimate result of these forays. The old Sultan being ill, I did notsee him, but spent the evening with Pañgeran Mumein, the prime minister(and present Sultan).[87] He is an amiable man, and bears a bettercharacter than the rest; his great fault is grasping. He is alwaystelling the story of his fight with the Kayans, which exemplifies howeasily these men were defeated by the use of musketry. Some yearssince, Pañgeran Mumein hearing that the district of Tamburong wasinvaded by the people of Baram, collected his followers and guns,and proceeded thither. When they came in sight of the Kayans crowdedround a village, the Malays became alarmed, and wished to retreat; buttheir leader sprang forward and fired a brass swivel at the enemy; itfortunately took effect on one, and the crowd dispersed. Recoveringfrom their fright, the Borneans fired volley after volley into thejungle, and celebrated their victory by loud beatings of gongs anddrums. The Kayans, still more frightened, fled in all directions.

Pañgeran Mumein justly observed, that as long as the Kayans wereunacquainted with the use of fire-arms, it was easy to defend thecountry; but that now the Bornean traders were supplying them withbrass swivels and double-barrel guns, he thought that the ruin ofBrunei was at hand. But the fact is, that though the Kayans are nowless frightened at the noise of heavy guns and muskets than they were,they seldom employ them in their expeditions in the jungle, as theycannot keep them in working order.

With the assistance of his followers’ memories, Mumein repeated thenames of forty villages that had been destroyed within the last tenyears, and the majority of the inhabitants captured or killed.

Several of the respectable Malay traders of the place have agreed to gowith me as guides and interpreters;[88] among the rest are Gadore, AbdulAjak, and Bakir, the principal dealers with Baram. Bakir had but justarrived from that country, and he says that the Kayans are anxiouslyawaiting my arrival, having heard that I was ready for the steamer.As he appears a very intelligent fellow, I will note down some of theinformation he gave me about the people. Their customs appear much thesame as those of the Sea Dayaks: he began, oddly enough, with theirfunerals. When a man dies, they wrap him up in cloths and place him ina kind of box on top of four upright poles, and leave him there withsome of his worldly goods—in the case of chiefs, a very large amount.Their marriages are simple. When two young people take a fancy to eachother, their intercourse is unrestrained: should the girl prove withchild, a marriage takes place; their great anxiety for children makesthem take this precaution against sterility.

We pulled in the evening to visit the fine upas-tree growing at the endof the reach below the town. We landed at a Mahomedan burying-place,and there met a Malay, who warned us not to approach this deadlytree, but we smilingly thanked him and continued our course, forcingour way through the tangled bushes at its base: it has a noble stem,some five-and-thirty feet without a branch, and eighteen feet incircumference; the colour of its bark is a light brown. The tree is avery handsome and spreading one, and its bright rich green contrastedwell with the dark foliage beyond.

Leaving the burying-ground, we fell down the river a hundred yards, andthen walked up a path [89]leading over the hills, where a dip renderedthe passage easier. Arriving at the summit, we saw the town spreadout, map-like, before us, and it is one of the loveliest scenes I haveever witnessed. The sun was just setting amid a broken heap of clouds,and threw its dimmed rays on everything around. The river, slowlymeandering through the town and country, flowed past our feet, itsrippled waters faintly tinged with purple; while around, till hidden bythe now rapidly-approaching darkness, we could perceive a succession ofhills, gilded here and there, and generally clothed with trees to thevery summit; but, that the eye might not be wearied, many an eminencewas grass-covered. A cool breeze blew gently down the river, and waspleasantly refreshing after the hot day.

Before darkness had quite enveloped us, we visited those little grottoswhence the Borneans obtain their supplies of drinking water. Rills areled through bamboo-pipes, and brought conveniently to fill the jarsthat crowd the numerous boats, each waiting its turn. Brunei water isfamous; it runs through a sandstone district, and is very clear andtasteless. One of these places is called to this day “The Factor’sFountain,” and brings back to one’s mind the time, when the East IndiaCompany had a factory here and traded in pepper.

Having collected our Bornean guides, who vainly endeavoured to load thesteamer with their trading goods, we bade adieu to the authorities andstarted for Labuan. We stayed there but a few hours, and then steamedaway for the Baram.

Next morning we arrived off the mouth, and, by[90] not steering towardsland till the northern point of the river bore due east, came in withone-and-a-half fathom water. The natives say there is a deeper channelto be found by keeping close in to the northern shore, but it has notyet been completely surveyed. A fresh breeze was blowing, which curledthe waves and dashed them in breakers on the sandbank; so that ourpassage was made in a sea of foam. This obstruction renders the rivercomparatively useless, and is greatly to be regretted, as immediatelythe bar is passed the water deepens to four and five fathoms;occasionally we found no bottom with a ten-fathom line.

At the mouth, the width of the Baram is about half a mile; it graduallynarrows, and then varies in breadth from 300 to 500 yards. Casuariansline the entrance, then nipa palms, and the usual jungle pressingclosely to the water’s edge. A few miles more, and patches of rich,short grass ornament the banks, increasing in number as we advanced.The jungle presented few varied tints, but pretty creepers and whiteand red flowers occasionally showed themselves among the dark leaves.

About twenty miles up the river was a landing-place on the right bank,leading to the Blait country, inhabited by Muruts, who have sufferedheavily by the attacks of the Kayans.

Makota, the Malay noble so often mentioned in Keppel’s Voyage ofthe Dido, as the chief opponent of European influence in Borneo,and certainly the ablest and most unscrupulous man, and yet the mostagreeable companion I have found among the Malays, told me how theKayans had managed to obtain a[91] village of Muruts in the Blait country.It had often been attacked, but, as a strong stockade had been builtround it, they had defied the enemy.

One day, a fugitive party of three men and several women and childrenwere seen flying from the jungle towards the Murut village. Some armedmen went out to meet them, and they said that they had run away fromthe Kayans, and were now escaping pursuit. They proved to be Murutsof a distant river, who had been captured and held in slavery by theKayans. The Blaits received them with hospitality, and offered themroom in their long village houses that contained 150 families. Thefugitives, however, said they preferred keeping their party together,and asked leave to build up a temporary hut against the inner side ofthe stockade. Permission was granted, and they lived there six months,working at a farm with their hosts.

One of these men, after the gathering in of the harvest, stayed outtill sunset, and explained it by saying he had been hunting, and thatthe chase had led him farther than he intended. It was a dark nightthat followed; and, about four in the morning, a large party of Kayanscrawled quietly up to the stockade, and found an entrance preparedfor them. The posts had been removed by the stranger Muruts, who hadgradually cut through the wood that formed the inner wall of theirtemporary shed. When sufficient were within the defences, a loud shoutwas raised, and fire applied to the leaf houses. The villagers rushedout to be cut down or captured. In the confusion and the darkness,however, the larger portion escaped, but left about a hundred andfifty[92] bodies and captives in the hands of the Kayans; and I am notsorry to add, among the former were the three treacherous men who hadcaused this awful scene. Some of the attacking party not obtainingheads, quietly possessed themselves of those of their three allies.

Kum Lia planned and led this foray. I had some doubts of the truth ofthis circ*mstantially told story; and many years after, meeting Kum Liain daily intercourse, I asked him about it. He was proud to acknowledgethat he was the author of the able stratagem, but was not clear as towhether they had also slain their allies, but thought it very possiblethat his followers had done so.

At sunset we passed the island of Bakong, divided by narrow waters fromthe shore, and along the banks grass grew luxuriantly. We were struckby the appearance of dark objects; and, seeing them move, telescopeswere pointed, and they proved to be a herd of Tambadau, or wild cattle,and at the edge of the jungle was a group of deer.

We anchored at the entrance of the Bakong stream, about thirty-fivemiles from the mouth of the Baram. During the night carefulobservations were made, and it was found that at the height of theflood the river rose only three feet, and the strength of the currentaveraged only one mile per hour.

Started before sunrise; the stream continues much the same. At firstthere were more open glades, with rich soft-looking grass like ourEnglish meadows; traces of wild cattle and deer were constantly to beobserved. The river was seldom over four hundred yards in breadth, butnever less than two; the soundings[93] changed from three fathoms to nobottom with the usual line, but this great variation was caused by ournot always being able to keep in the deepest part of the stream.

A glance at the map will show how very abrupt are the turnings, and howthe stream doubles on itself, rendering it a very difficult matter tosteer. Occasionally the current would catch the bow of the steamer, andforce it on the shore; but immediately the stern felt the same force,it was pressed also towards the bank, and the stem again would pointup stream. It was at last found the easiest and safest way to turn thesharp points.

To-day we steamed by several Malay trading prahus pulling up thestream, and observed one enormous Tapang tree that rose close to thewater’s edge.

Early in the afternoon we passed the embouchure of the Tingjir on theleft bank; it was about a third of the size of the Baram, and is saidto be shallow: it is well inhabited by a tribe of people called Sububs,with whom the Kayans are interspersed. A couple of hours after, wereached the Tutu on the right bank; up this the Kayans proceed whenintent on a foray in the Upper Limbang country.

Saw the first Kayans near this spot. Two canoes were coming down theriver; directly they perceived the moving monster approaching, theyturned and fled; but as they found we were overtaking them, theydeserted their canoes and dashed ashore. Three, however, remainedat the edge of the jungle, and we reassured them by waving ourhandkerchiefs. It was a pardonable fear, they had never before seenanything larger than their own war boats. They[94] looked very much likethe Kanowit Dayaks before described.

We had one fine view of the peak of Molu and of its surrounding ranges;occasionally the banks are becoming steep.

Anchored after sunset, above one hundred miles from the mouth; we arenow far beyond the influence of the tides, yet the current averaged buta mile and a half.

Again started before sunrise; the river continued its winding coursewith a few patches of greensward; our guides say there are no more wildcattle, but many deer in this neighbourhood. We passed the sites ofnumerous deserted plantations and of a few new ones: we startled thepeople at a farmhouse by running our bowsprit into their verandah: nowonder the women and children fled shrieking to the jungle.

Most of these habitations are built on high posts, and are very neatlyconstructed. Generally, the people showed little fear, but crowded theverandahs to look at us, some rushing to their boats to follow. Weagain found a little difficulty in rounding the sharp points, and wereconstantly striking the banks, but no damage was done, although we wereoften among the overhanging branches of the jungle.

We touched once, while near the centre of the stream, on what I do notknow, probably a rock or a stump of a tree—the snags of the Americanrivers. But just above this spot was the abrupt hill of Gading, thatrises perpendicularly from the banks, and is brightly white, with deepfissures, and is celebrated for its birds’-nest caves. I am sorry wedid not stop to examine this, as many years after I[95] found among theMuruts of the centre of Northern Borneo, a small slab of white marble,that I could only trace as having been brought from the Baram river.The Malays called it Batu Gading, or ivory-stone: it was pure white.

Among our Malays was one who had frequently traded with the north-eastcoast, and the mention of Gading (ivory) brought to his recollectionthat elephants exist in the districts about the river Kina Batañgan. Ihave seen many tusks brought to Labuan for sale, but never measured onelonger than six feet two inches, including the part set in the head.

I have met dozens of men who have seen the elephants there, but my ownexperience has been limited to finding their traces near the sea-beach.It is generally believed that above a hundred years ago the East IndiaCompany sent to the Sultan of Sulu a present of these animals; thatthe Sultan said these great creatures would certainly eat up the wholeproduce of his own little island, and asked the donors to land them atCape Unsang, on the north-east coast of Borneo, where his people wouldtake care of them. But it is contrary to their nature to take care ofany animal that requires much trouble, so the elephants sought theirown food in the woods, and soon became wild.

Hundreds now wander about, and constantly break into the plantations,doing much damage; but the natives sally out with huge flaming torches,and drive the startled beasts back to the woods.

The ivory of Bornean commerce is generally procured from the deadbodies found in the forests, but[96] there is now living, one man whodrives a profitable trade in fresh ivory. He sallies out on darknights, with simply a waistcloth and a short, sharp spear: he crawlsup to a herd of elephants, and selecting a large one, drives his spearinto the animal’s belly. In a moment, the whole herd is on the move,frightened by the bellowing of their wounded companion, who rushes toand fro, until the panic spreads, and they tear headlong through thejungle, crushing before them all smaller vegetation. The hunter’s perilat that moment is great, but fortune has favoured him yet, as he hasescaped being trampled to death.

In the morning he follows the traces of the herd, and, carefullyexamining the soil, detects the spots of blood that have fallen fromthe wounded elephant. He often finds him, so weakened by loss of bloodas to be unable to keep up with the rest of the herd, and a new woundis soon inflicted. Patiently pursuing this practice, the hunter hassecured many of these princes of the forest.

One can easily understand how startled a man unused to an animallarger than a pony would feel on suddenly finding himself face to facewith a huge elephant. My favourite follower, Musa, has often made hisaudience laugh by an account of the feelings he experienced, when,pulling up the great river of Kina Batañgan, he steered close in-shoreto avoid the strength of the current, and, looking up to find what wasmoving near, saw a noble tusked elephant above him, with his proboscisstretched over the boat to pick fruit beyond—“The paddle dropped frommy hand, life left me, but the canoe drifted back out of danger.”

[97]

The banks of the Baram gradually became higher, and topped by neatfarm-houses, increased in beauty; but I think the first view ofthe Kayan town of Lañgusin was one of the most picturesque I haveever witnessed. Long houses, built on lofty posts, on hills ofvarious heights, yet appearing to be clustered together, while nearwere numerous little rice stores, neatly whitewashed. I never sawa prettier-looking place. We steered on, until we reached a longvillage-house, still building, opposite which we anchored. Crowdsimmediately assembled on the banks, and the Bornean traders came off togive and receive news.

The chief, Tamawan, now sent to know how the salutes were to bearranged, and we agreed that as usual we should salute his flag first,and that he should return it. We were rather surprised to find anEnglish ensign hoisted, but he had received it from a trader, and saidhe would never change it, as it showed his good feeling towards us.

Among the guns fired was the pivot 32-pounder, and the sound echoed andre-echoed among the neighbouring hills, startling the whole population,who had never before heard anything louder than a brass swivel. Thesalute was returned by an irregular firing, that continued for about anhour—the greater number of guns the greater honour.

My Malay followers were very desirous that I should show the utmostdignity, and require the chiefs of the river to make the first visit;but on that I declined insisting, and left it to the Kayans to settle;and, thinking it would show more confidence, I went on shore whilethese preliminaries were discussing,[98] and walked to the spot where allthe principal men were assembled under a temporary shed. Two chairsand two boxes covered with English rugs were arranged at one end.Before taking my seat, I shook hands with all around. This was a formalmeeting, and I explained to them the object of our coming, which wasto cement the friendship of the English with the Kayans. Having justarrived from the Kanowit, I was enabled to give them some intelligencefrom their friends and relations. In fact, I found Kum Nipa’s son here,and also Diñgun, Belabun’s brother, and I had the unpleasant task ofinforming them that small-pox had broken out on the Rejang, and wascommitting fearful ravages. I did not tell the latter of the death ofhis younger brother by Kayan hands, as it might prove disagreeable tobe informed of it publicly.

I did not stay long, as they appeared to be uneasy, but with generalassurances of friendship left them.

It is difficult to describe the outward appearance of these people,and say anything different from what I have already said in describingthe Sea Dayaks. They are much like the Sakarangs, except that they areslightly tatooed with a few stars and other marks; however, I have notas yet seen much of them.

Along the banks of the river, we observed many Kayan graves: the bodyis wrapped up, enclosed within a hollowed coffin, and raised on twothick, carved posts, with roughly carved woodwork extending out fromeach corner, like those seen on the roofs of Budhist temples. In onethey put so many goods that the Bornean traders were tempted to robthem; and had not the Kayans discovered who were the[99] culprits, therest would have suffered heavily. The Bornean thieves escaped, but theyand all their connections are for ever precluded from trading with thisdistrict.

Diñgun came on board to hear more particular news of his family, andwas shocked on being informed of the death of his brother: he toldme he should return home in about five months. Two years ago, he anda party of thirty started from Kanowit, and proceeded up the Rejang,amusing themselves with the Kayans; they then pushed on and crossedover to Baram, where they had remained guests of the principal chiefs.He and his companions were easily distinguished from their neighboursby their profuse tatooing. I was enabled to give him some informationabout his father, his brothers, and his four children; about his wife,I do not remember that he inquired.

The Baram is said to abound in alligators, but they are evidently notvery dangerous, as the women and children bathed daily opposite theship. Strength of current, two knots per hour.

Next morning, the chiefs came on board. I will give their names asa curiosity:—Tamawan, Siñgauding, Kum Lia, the hero of the Blaitsurprise, Si Matau, Longapan, and Longkiput, with some hundreds offollowers. They were charmed to be allowed freely to inspect thevessel. Tamawan looks a savage, and doubtless is one: he had on butlittle dress—a waistcloth of about two fathoms of gray shirting, ahandkerchief tossed over his shoulder, and a head-dress of dark cloth.He is but slightly tatooed, having a couple of angles on his breast, afew stars on his arms, his hands as far as the joints of his[100] fingers,and a few fanciful touches about his elbows; his ears were boredand then drawn down by leaden weights, as is the fashion among theKanowits; the tops of his ears were also bored, and the long teeth ofthe tiger-cat stuck through them like a pair of turn-down horns. Andsuch was the dress and appearance of nearly all but a few young men,who wore jackets of a variety of colours, with an equal variety oftrimmings. Tamawan was a small man, but Simatau and Siñgauding werehulking fellows; they were all strong or wiry-looking men, capable ofmuch fatigue; their countenances, on the whole, were pleasant. I tookthem down to inspect the machinery, and my Bornean followers were theirguides to show them all the other wonders on board, particularly thelarge thirty-two pounder gun, which greatly excited their respect.Kum Lia, who is the son-in-law of Kum Nipa, of Rejang, whom I havementioned as the chief we intended to visit, when we were stopped bythe small-pox having broken out in his country, stayed after the othersto inquire about his family. He remembered the name of Niblett, whocommanded the Phlegethon when it called at Bintulu in 1847.

In the evening I visited Siñgauding at his house. I should like to havetaken up my residence on shore, but they were desirous to make so manypreparations that I gave up the idea, as our stay would necessarily beshort, although I was anxious to observe them more closely.

Our talk was at first about steamers, balloons, and rockets, of whichthey had heard much from the Borneans. They particularly wished to knowif we[101] had a telescope that could discover the hidden treasures of theearth, as they had heard we possessed one that showed mountains in themoon.

I was unfortunate in the medium through which I obtained myinformation. The Bornean interpreters are only anxious on the subjectof trade; and being Mahomedans always laugh at the superstitions ofthe wild tribes. I therefore give, with some hesitation, what theytold me concerning their religion. They said the name of their god wasTotaduñgan, and he was the supreme ruler who created, and now reignedover all; that he had a wife, but no children; beneath him were manyother inferior powers. They believed in a future life, with separateplaces for the souls of the good and of the bad; that their heaven andhell were divided into many distinct residences; that those who diedfrom wounds, from sickness, or were drowned, went each to separateplaces. If a woman died before her husband, she went to the otherworld and married. On the death of her husband, if he came to the sameworld, she repudiated her ghostly partner and returned to him who hadpossessed her on earth.

Siñgauding’s house was of a similar construction to those of the SeaDayaks, very long, with a broad, covered verandah, as a public room,and a sleeping-place for the bachelors, while off it were separateapartments for the married people, the young girls, and children. Theroof was of shingle, the posts of heavy wood, the flooring of long andbroad rough planks, the partitions of the same material, with smalldoors about two feet above the floor, leading into the inner rooms.

[102]

Every Kayan chief of consideration possesses a kind of seat formed fromthe Tapang tree. It is, in fact, a huge slab, cut out of the buttressof that lofty tree; and this seat descends from father to son, tillit is polished and black with age. Siñgauding gave me one, measuringten feet six inches by six feet six inches. It was made into a veryhandsome dining-table, but was unfortunately burnt during the Chineseinsurrection of 1857. When Siñgauding heard of this, he determined tosend me another that should throw the former into the shade; and Iheard that the one selected was fifteen feet by nine. Up to August,1861, it had not reached me, as all the Malay traders declared theirboats were too small to receive it.

Near the spot where we sat conversing were open baskets, hung nearthe fire-places, containing the human heads they had captured. Thehouse certainly did not look cheerful; but I saw it under unfavourablecirc*mstances—a dark evening with constant drizzling rain.

As yet, I have seen but the few women who bathe opposite to the ship.They are generally tatooed from the knee to the waist, and wear buta cloth like a handkerchief hung round the body, and tucked in atone side above the hip, leaving a portion of the thigh visible. Whenbathing, their tatooing makes them look as if they were all wearingblack breeches. They are tolerable-looking women; and I saw a fewpleasant countenances.

The visit of the steamer was not timed very fortunately, as Tamadin,an influential chief, with a large party, was away head-hunting; anda rumour had[103] arrived of a very severe loss having been suffered by aforce that started for the interior of the Limbang and Trusan rivers.If we could stay twenty days we should see all the population; but Ihave had a hint that the provisions are running short, and nothing canbe procured here but a few pigs, fowls, and goats, all very dear.

I have calculated the population of this town, called Lañgusin, at2,500 souls, and this is perhaps under the mark. From my inquiries,however, the interior must be tolerably well peopled.

At ten o’clock at night, the shouts and yells of the Kayans on shorewere borne to us, as they were working with might and main to finishthe long village-house of Tamawan. He gave them some drink, and theyworked half the night.

They showed me some very pretty mats to-day made by the wandering tribeof Punans, who live on jungle produce, and collect honey and wax.

Next day I sent some presents to Siñgauding and Tamawan, and at theirspecial invitation went ashore to meet them. A large temporary shedsheltered us from the sun. There was no inconvenient crowding, not morethan a hundred men being assembled, and about twenty women, the wivesand daughters of their chiefs. Among them there were some interestinggirls. They wore their long black hair quite loose, only white filletsbeing bound round the forehead, so as to cast the hair in heavy massesover their ears and down their backs. Their countenances were open,bright dark eyes, smooth foreheads, depressed noses, clear skin, butindifferent mouths. They had good[104] figures and well set up busts. Ihave as yet seen no old women and men in the tribe.

One of the objects of my visit was to inquire into the alleged badconduct of an English trader and of a Sarawak Malay. I spent two hoursin this investigation. When this was over, native arrack and some ofmy French brandy was introduced. About a third of a tumbler of theformer was handed to me. As I raised it to my lips, the whole assemblyburst out into what appeared a drinking chorus; and this they did whenany man of note drank. A little spirit getting into them, they becamemore cheerful and amusing; and we talked about their head-huntingpropensities. The wholesome advice I felt compelled to give them onthis subject made them feel thirsty, and Tamawan seizing a bottle,filled two tumblers two-thirds full of raw spirit and handed it to me,and asked me to drink with him to the friendship of the two nations.Could I refuse? No. I raised the tumbler to my lips, and amid a veryexcited chorus allowed the liquor to flow down.

When this was finished, Tamawan jumped up, and while standing burst outinto an extempore song, in which Sir James Brooke and myself, and last,not least, the wonderful steamer, was mentioned with warm eulogies,and every now and then the whole assembly joined in chorus with greatdelight.

Tamawan now sat down and talked about head-hunting again. He saidthat when the Kayans attacked a village, they only killed those whor*sisted or attempted to escape; the rest they brought home with them,turning them in fact into field slaves. He declared, however, that hisgreat village, and[105] twenty-one others, were averse to the practice ofhead-hunting; but that over the twenty-eight other villages he had noinfluence. The above forty-nine villages he went over by name, andmentioned likewise the principal chief in each. They assert that avillage was considered small that had only a hundred families, whilea large one contained four hundred. If we may judge from the accounthe gave of the town opposite which we are anchored, he must haveunderrated considerably. He said this contained two hundred families;but after going over the numbers in each village-house, we came to theconclusion that there were at least five hundred families in Lañgusin.But as long as head-hunting is considered an honourable pursuit, andthe acquisition of Murut slaves enables the chiefs to live withoutlabour, it will be impossible to put a stop to their forays.

Tamawan had excited himself on this subject, and again feeling verythirsty after all the information he had given me, now looked aboutfor something to drink. I was beginning to congratulate myself on itsbeing finished, when he spoke to a very pretty girl who was standingnear, and she instantly disappeared to return with a couple of bottlesof brandy in her hands. The two tumblers were again filled more thanhalf-full—one for me, the other for himself. I remembered what SydneySmith said of the little effect spirit often has on the temperateman, and joined him in this last pledge. I pitied the poor Malays,who had never been accustomed to anything stronger than tea, beingforced to follow our example; and yet it was ridiculous to watch theircontortions[106] and wry faces, as their inexorable hosts forced them toswallow their allowance.

Now came a ceremony new to me: a young pig was brought in by the prettywaiting-maid and handed over to one of the men present, who boundits legs, and carrying it out opposite to where the Pluto wasanchored, placed it on the ground. Mats were laid around, and a chairwas provided for me. Tamawan now came forward and commenced an oration.His voice was at first thick from the potency of his previous draughts;but warming on his subject, he entered at large on the feelings offriendship with which he regarded the English; spoke of the wonderfulvessel that came with oars of fire; seized my hand, and gesticulatedexcitedly with the other; then pointing to the pig, he entered on whatappeared to be a prayer, as he seemed appealing to something beyondhim; he took a knife, and cut the pig’s throat; the body was thenopened, and the heart and liver taken out and placed on two leaves,and closely examined, to judge from their appearance whether our visitwould be fortunate for the Kayan nation. Every chief present felttheir different proportions, and Tamawan pointed out to me the variousindications. Luckily for our friendship, they found that every portionportended good fortune. With his bloody hand Tamawan grasped mine, andexpressed his delight at the happy augury. Throwing away the auricle ofthe heart, they cut up the rest to eat, and placed the pieces over thefire, using a bambu as a cooking vessel.

I now took my leave, rather tired with my four hours’ exertions, andreturned on board. The ceremony[107] of examining the heart and liver ofthe pig was too classical not to merit particular notice, though I havealready mentioned that the Sakarang Dayaks practise the same.

Next day being Sunday, the Malays kept the Kayans from coming onboard. I inquired particularly as to the meaning of Tamawan’s addressyesterday, and I hear that it was an invocation to the spirits of goodand evil to allow him to discover from the heart of the sacrificewhether our visit was to prove fortunate or not to the Kayan nation.

Siñgauding sent on board to request me to become his brother by goingthrough the sacred custom of imbibing each other’s blood. I sayimbibing, because it is either mixed with water and drunk, or else itis placed within a native cigar and drawn in with the smoke. I agreedto do so, and the following day was fixed for the ceremony. It iscalled Berbiang by the Kayans; Bersabibah by the Borneans. I landedwith our party of Malays, and after a preliminary talk, to give timefor the population to assemble, the affair commenced. We sat in thebroad verandah of a long house, surrounded by hundreds of men, women,and children, all looking eagerly at the white stranger who was aboutto enter their tribe. Stripping my left arm, Kum Lia took a small pieceof wood, shaped like a knife-blade, and slightly piercing the skin,brought blood to the surface; this he carefully scraped off: then oneof my Malays drew blood in the same way from Siñgauding, and a smallcigarette being produced, the blood on the wooden blades was spread onthe tobacco. A chief then arose, and walking to an open place, lookedforth upon the river and invoked[108] their god and all the spirits of goodand evil to be witness of this tie of brotherhood. The cigarette wasthen lighted, and each of us took several puffs, and the ceremony wasconcluded. I was glad to find that they had chosen the form of inhalingthe blood in smoke, as to have swallowed even a drop would have beenunpleasant, though the disgust would only arise from the imagination.They sometimes vary the custom, though the variation may be confined tothe Kiniahs, who live farther up the river, and are intermarried withthe Kayans. There a pig is brought and placed between the two who areto be joined in brotherhood. A chief offers an invocation to the gods,and marks with a lighted brand the pig’s shoulder. The beast is thenkilled, and after an exchange of jackets, a sword is thrust into thewound, and the two are marked with the blood of the pig.

I hear that I am in very high favour with the Kayans, from my joiningtheir drinking party and now entering their tribe, and binding myselfto them by a tie which they look on as sacred. We had a long talk aboutthe advantage which would accrue to trade if the Kayans establish theirtown nearer the mouth of the river; as at present it takes a Malayboat sixteen days to reach it in the fine season, and thirty in thewet. I found they had tried it once, by removing to the mouth of theTingjir; but building their houses over the freshly-cleared jungle theylost a great many men by fever. They accounted for this by saying theyhad accidentally fallen upon a spot that was much frequented by evilspirits, and so had returned to their original site.

[109]

To close this meeting merrily, a large jar of arrack was introduced,and subsequently a bottle of brandy. Excited by this, Si-Matau clothedhimself in full war costume and commenced a sword dance. He was a fine,strong fellow, and with his dress of black bear-skin ornamented withfeathers, his sword in hand, and shield adorned with many-colouredhair, said to be human, he looked truly formidable. His dancingexpressed the character of the people—quick and vigorous motions,showing to advantage the development of his muscles. He was accompaniedby the music of a two-stringed instrument, resembling a rough guitar:the body was shaped like a decked Malay trading prahu, with a smallhole an inch in diameter in the centre; the strings were the finethreads of rattan twisted and drawn up tightly by means of tuning-keys;however, the sound produced was not very different from that of atightly-drawn string. Some of the lookers-on were young girls withregular features, light skins, and good figures, and with a pleasing,pensive expression.

I looked about the house to-day, and though it is boarded all through,and, therefore, more substantial than those of the Sea Dayaks, yet itdid not appear so bright and cheerful as the light yellow matted wallsof the latter. I never saw so much firewood collected together as inthese houses: on a fine framework spreading partly over the verandahand partly over their rooms, many months’ supplies are piled even tothe roof;—of course it is a great advantage to have dry materials inall weathers, and it is a provision against times of sickness or busyharvest-work.

[110]

Last night there arrived overland the news I had previously given themof the small-pox having broken out among the Kayans of Rejang, andto-day it formed the subject of conversation. They were anxious to havethat medicine which the white men put into the arm, and which they weretold came from the belly of a snake.

Tamawan, who was on board this morning, was greatly pleased atwitnessing the musket exercise, and when he came on shore, went throughit again to the admiration of his followers.

As the Kayans believed some misfortune would happen to us if I wentanywhere but straight on board the ship, or if Siñgauding left hishouse during the day, I remained quiet, and talked over affairs withthe Malays.

I find that, as among the Kanowits and other Dayaks, after the death ofa relative they go out head-hunting, but do not kill the first personmet; but each one they pass must make them a trifling present, which isno doubt quickly given, to get rid of such unpleasant neighbours.

Nakodah Abdullah, who has traded with this country since he was a boy,and Nakodah Jalil, another experienced man, came to spend the afternoonwith me. They say the origin of the Kayans coming to the Baram wasthis: About twenty-five or thirty years ago, there were three powerfulchiefs living in the Balui country—as the interiors of the Rejang andBintulu rivers are called—Kum Nipa, Kum Laksa, and the father of mybrother Siñgauding; that Kum Laksa quarrelled with the last, and beingjoined by Kum Nipa, a feud arose, in the[111] course of which the fatherof Siñgauding was killed. The relatives, to save the infant son, fledto the Baram with all those who were well affected to the family: somethousands came over, and singularly enough, they were well received bythe Kiniahs, the original inhabitants of the country. Though they aresaid to speak distinct languages, they soon commenced intermarrying,and are gradually becoming one people. I am inclined to think, fromtheir own remarks, that they must originally have come from the samepart of Borneo, and that the difference of language is not greater thanthat which exists among the various branches of the Sea Dayaks. Theother inhabitants of the river are the Sububs, on the Tingjir, and thenumerous Murut slaves captured in their forays. Si-Matau, who danced sovigorously this morning, was a Subub.

I tried, by the aid of the Malay traders, to draw up a vocabulary ofthe language, but found that the ignorance of these men was too greatto enable me to make one entitled to any confidence. I noticed thathalf their conversation with the natives was carried on in corruptMalay words, and these they gave me as true Kayan expressions.

Before the arrival of the Kayans, the trade to this river was merelynominal; but they, knowing the value of the edible birds’-nests, soonchanged the face of matters, as they discovered caves plentifullysupplied with this article of Chinese luxury. Their houses are nowbuilt in the neighbourhood of the resort of this wealth-creating bird.Quite lately, however, they wantonly injured their own interests bytaking the nests five times a year, and never allowing[112] the birds achance of hatching an egg; the consequence has been, that they areseeking more secluded spots, and are reported to be resorting to thenumerous caves found in the mountain of Molu. The other articlesof trade are camphor, wax, gutta-percha, and, lately, a littleindia-rubber.

They principally import gray shirtings and chintzes; the Malays, vyingwith each other, took one year, it is said, 50,000 pieces, and allowedthe Kayans to have them on credit. Since then everything has gonewrong—debts are not paid, quarrels arise, and the caves are ruined byendeavouring to obtain the means of purchasing more articles.

In some respects, the Kayans differ in their customs from the otheraboriginal tribes of Borneo. At the birth of a chief’s child thereare great rejoicings; a feast is given, pigs, and fowls, and goatsbeing freely sacrificed. Jars of arrack are brought forward, and allthe neighbours are called upon to rejoice with their leader. They saythat on this occasion a name is given if the omen be good. A featheris inserted up the child’s nostril, to tickle it; if it sneeze itis a good sign, but if not, the ceremony is put off to another day.I may mention one inhuman custom, which is, that women who appearto be dying in childbirth, are taken to the woods and placed in ahastily-constructed hut; they are looked upon as interdicted, and nonebut the meanest slaves may approach them, either to give them food orto attend to them.

Marriages are celebrated with great pomp; many men have ruinedthemselves by their extravagance on this occasion. Tamading, withprincely munificence,[113] gave away or spent the whole of his property onhis wedding-day.

As among the Sea Dayaks, the young people have almost unrestrainedintercourse; but if the girl prove with child, a marriage immediatelytakes place, the bridegroom making the richest presents he can to herrelatives. The men, even the greatest chief, take but one wife, and, itis said, consider it shameful to mix their blood, and never, therefore,have any intercourse with the inferior women or slaves.

I have already mentioned the coffins elevated on posts; this,doubtless, extends only to the rich, the poor being simply buried.

There is another practice of the Kayans, which was mentioned byDalton[2] as existing among those he met on the Koti river; it wasdisbelieved by many at the time, but it is undoubtedly true: the richmen using gold, the poorer silver, bones of birds, and even hardwood. The doctor of the Semiramis steamer carefully examineda great number of Kayans, and expressed his astonishment that noinjury resulted from this extraordinary practice. A German missionaryhas accused the Southern Kayans of certain gross usages; but I heardnothing of them, and do not credit his account—his mistakes arising,most probably, from his want of knowledge of the language.

I procured to-day a packet of the iron they use in smelting; itappeared like a mass of rough, twisted ropes, and is, I think, calledmeteoric iron-stone. They use, also, two other kinds, of which I didnot obtain specimens. We found a little coal in the black shale[114] onwhich the town is built, and they spoke of golden pebbles, most likelyiron pyrites.

We had heavy rain every night; the current became stronger, and theriver rapidly rose.

We went next day to visit the caves whence they get the ediblebirds’-nests. We pulled down in the steamer’s cutter for about a mile,and then up a narrow stream, till we could force her along no farther.We now landed to walk the rest of the way. Among our party were somewho had not been accustomed to forest work, and they came arrayed inuniform and patent leather boots, thinking there was a dry and openroad. Their surprise was great and not agreeable when they found muddyground and the bed of a mountain torrent had to be traversed. Ourguide struck into the stream directly, and our party broke up, somefollowing him, while others sought a dryer way. From the stream weentered a thick wood of young trees; then again across the stream, upthe bed of a mountain torrent, now partly dry; steep, slippery stones,some overgrown with moss, others worn to a smooth surface; up again,climbing the hill, over fallen trees, down deep ravines, across littlestreams, jumping from rock to rock, until after an hour’s hard workwe arrived at a little house on the top of a hill—the neatest littlehouse imaginable, walls and floor of well-trimmed planks, and roof ofbright red shingle; it was perfectly new, and was the residence of theguardian of the cave.

I looked vainly about me for the entrance, and on asking, they pointedto a deep gully, but I could see nothing but bushes and grass; but ondescending a short distance, I saw the bottom of the gully suddenly[115]divide, leaving a rocky chasm some thirty feet in depth. A slightframework of iron-wood enabled us to get down over the slippery rocks,and we soon saw that the cave extended back under the little house,and looked gloomy and deep. Our guide now lit a large wax taper, veryinferior for this purpose to the torches used by the Land Dayaks inSarawak, and led the way. The cave gradually enlarged, but by theimperfect light we could only distinguish masses of uneven rock oneither side. As we advanced towards those parts where the finest whitenests are found, the ground became covered many feet deep with theguano of the swallow, which emitted scarcely any smell. We advancednearly two hundred yards without seeing a single nest, Siñgauding’s menhaving completely cleared the cave the day before: it was very vexing,as we desired to see the nests as they were fixed to the rocks. Thecave gradually became narrower and lower, but we continued our advancetill we were stopped by its termination in this direction. Our guidesobserving our disappointment in not finding any nests, told us thatthere were a few in another branch. So we retraced our steps till wereached a passage on our left, and presently arrived at a spot wherewe descended abruptly some twelve feet; it was pitch dark, as theguide had gone rapidly ahead. On reaching the bottom, I put my footcautiously down, and could find nothing: the passage being very narrowI was enabled to support myself with my hands on either side whilefeeling with my feet for standing ground. There was none in front, buton either edge there was just resting room for the foot; so this chasmwas passed in safety.[116] I shouted out to my companions to take care, andthe guide returning, we examined what we had escaped: it was a blackhole, into which we threw stones, and calculating the number of secondsthey took in reaching the first obstruction, we found it about threehundred feet deep. The stones bounded on the rocks below, and we couldhear them strike and strike again, till they either reached the bottom,or till the sound was lost in the distance.

We then advanced to a large hall, apparently supported in the middle bya massive pillar, which was in fact but a huge stalactite. From abovefell a continued shower of cold water, which doubtless was the cause ofthose innumerable stalactites that adorned the roof.

We continued advancing for about seventy or eighty yards farther, thecave getting narrower and narrower till two could not move abreast.Except where the guano lay, the walking was difficult, as the rockswere wet and excessively slippery, and open chasms were not rare. Inthe farther end we were shown the places where the best nests wereobtained: the dryest portion of the sides of the cave are chosen by thebirds, and these appeared seldom to occur—I found but one inferiornest remaining. Disturbed by our movements and by yesterday’s havoc,the swallows were in great commotion, and flew round and round, anddarted so near our solitary light that we were in great fear for itsexistence.

The natives say that in these caves there are two species of birds—theone that builds the edible nest, and another that takes up its quartersnear the entrance, and disturbs, and even attacks the more[117] valuabletenants. The Kayans endeavour to destroy these, and while we were thereknocked down some nests constructed of moss, and adhering to the rockby a glutinous but coarse substance. The fine edible one looks likepure isinglass, with some amount of roughness on its surface. The bestI have seen are four inches round the upper edge, and appear like aportion of a whitish cup stuck against a wall.

On examining the construction of the mountain, one’s first impressionis, that all these huge rocks were thrown in heaps together; but,doubtless, water is the agent in forming these caves and the deepfissures that penetrate to the water-line in these limestone mountains.

I believe the guides took us to the smallest cave, as I am sure, fromthe produce of the district, that there must be many more betteradapted for the swallows, or else that they must be very numerous.In fact, the guides told us that Siñgauding had several others, andthat Tamawan in right of his wife had the best. As they showed noinclination to take us to the uncleared caves, we did not press them.

The person who is employed to guard this place is a singular-lookingold man; they say they captured him in the distant mountains during oneof their expeditions. He speaks a language unknown to them, but is nowlearning a little Kayan; he looks very contented, and has certainly theneatest house I have seen in Borneo for his dwelling.

On our return it rained a little, and we had, in many places, to sitand slide down the slippery[118] rocks; we all looked, on our return fromour expedition, in a very different condition from that in which westarted.

Siñgauding came in the afternoon to pay me a visit, and brought withhim Si Awang Lawi, the principal chief among the Kiniahs; he appeared afrank old man. They stayed for some time with me talking over varioussubjects connected with trade. He was very intelligent, and pressingthat I should go and visit his people; but it was beyond my power. Hetold me, also, that a Kayan, one of a party of several hundred headhunters, had returned half starved, and reported that he was the onlysurvivor. There was much mourning in the upper villages.

I may mention that these men have become so very conceited thatthey consider themselves superior to all except ourselves; and, intheir pride, they have actually commenced killing the swallow, thatconstitutes their wealth, saying it becomes a great chief to feed onthe most valuable things he possesses, regardless of the ultimateconsequences.

To-morrow being fixed for our departure, I have been requested to paySi Obong, Tamawan’s wife, a visit. I found her residing in a temporaryhouse, awaiting the completion of the great residence that was risingrapidly, and whose progress we could watch from the ship.

Si Obong was seated on fine mats, and was surrounded by variouscushions. She had passed her first youth, and had become very stout;in fact, her limbs were much too large for a woman. She wore littleclothing—a couple of English handkerchiefs, still in one piece, putround her hips, hanging down,[119] and tucked in at the side, and over herbosom she occasionally threw a loose black cloth. Her face was round,good-tempered, but rather coarse; her voice was gentle, and she woreher long black hair hanging loose, but kept off her face by fillets ofwhite bark. The most curious part of her costume is what I must call ahip-lace of beads, consisting of three strings, one of yellow beads;the next of varied colours, more valuable; and the third of severalhundred of those much-prized ones by the Kayan ladies. It is difficultto describe a bead so as to show its peculiarities. At my request, shetook off her hip-lace and handed it to me; the best appeared like abody of black stone, with four other variegated ones let in around. Itwas only in appearance that they were let in; the colours of these fourmarks were a mixture of green, yellow, blue, and gray.

Were I to endeavour to estimate the price in produce she and herparents had paid for this hip-lace, the amount would appear fabulous.She showed me one for which they had given eleven pounds’ weight of thefinest birds’ nests, or, at the Singapore market price, thirty-fivepounds sterling. She had many of a value nearly equal, and she worenone that had not cost her nine shillings.

She was the only daughter of a chief of the highest extraction, andTamawan owed the principal share of his influence, and perhaps all hiswealth, to her. The caves he possessed were hers, and she had beenwon by the fame of his warlike expeditions and the number of headsthat were suspended around his house. There is no doubt that the BaramKayans are less desirous of heads than they were, and prefer[120] slaveswho can cultivate their farms, and thus increase their fortune andconsideration.

Tamawan complained bitterly that his strength was leaving him, thathis body was becoming of no use, and that I must give him medicine torestore him. I promised him a few tonics, at the same time pointed outto him that he was suffering from rheumatism, caught whilst sleeping inthe jungle during his last expedition; recommended him to stay at home,to wear more clothing, to drink less ardent spirit, and not indulge somuch in fat pork.

Si Obong offered me refreshments in the shape of arrack and preservedfruit, but of neither did she herself partake. I noticed two of herattendants, who were really pretty, being blessed with wellshaped nosesand mouths, a rarity among the natives of Borneo. They both sat silentand did not exchange a word, but were ready to obey the slightest callof their mistress.

Si Obong had her arms much tatooed, and she was also ornamented in thatmanner from just under the hip joint to three inches below the knee.This could be observed, as her dress opened at the side. She showed mein what way she employed her time; among other things, she had made arattan seat, covered with fine bead-work, for her expected baby. Whenthe women go out, the child is placed in this, which is slung over theback. The baskets around, which were filled with her clothes, werealso her handiwork, and were carefully made, and likewise ornamentedwith innumerable small Venetian beads. There appeared no want of goodshere, as they were heaped in all directions; among other things I[121]noticed were an old English lamp, half-a-dozen tumblers, four bottlesof brandy, a brass kettle, and cooking pots.

After sitting there about a couple of hours, I took my leave andreturned on board; and then sent Si Obong what I thought would pleaseher, in the shape of a silver spoon, a silver fruit-knife, some gaudyhandkerchiefs, looking-glasses, and other trifles. The silver articles,I heard, greatly delighted her.

The chiefs all came on board to make their farewell visit, and theywere eager that I should spend my last evening with them; they carriedme off, and talking was kept up till a musket shot from the shipgave notice that a few fireworks were about to be let off. The wholeassemblage of several hundreds hurried to the river’s bank, tumblingover each other in their eagerness.

The rockets and blue lights filled them with astonishment and delight;the former as warlike instruments with which they could defeat theirenemies, and the latter because, they said, it turned night into day.I stayed with them till ten, and promised, if possible, to returnand spend a few months with them. On no other condition was I to besuffered to depart. They hinted that, united, we could soon possess theneighbouring countries between us.

Siñgauding sent me, to-day, a sword made with his own hands, a wardress of tiger-cat skin, a head-dress of the same material, with a longfeather of the Argus pheasant stuck into it. The peculiarity of theKayan sword is that it is concave on the upper side, and convex below,and is made either right-handed or left-handed. It is a dangerousinstrument[122] in the hands of the inexperienced; for if you cut downon the left side of a tree with a right-handed sword, it will flyoff in the most eccentric manner; but, well used, it inflicts verydeep wounds, and will cut through young trees better than any otherinstrument. I sent, as a return present, a heavy cavalry sword; infact, I was nearly exhausted of the means of making presents.

I may remark that their iron ore appears to be easily melted. They diga small pit in the ground; in the bottom are various holes, throughwhich are driven currents of air by very primitive bellows. Charcoalis thrown in; then the ore, well broken up, is added and covered withcharcoal; fresh ore and fresh fuel, in alternate layers, till thefurnace is filled. A light is then put to the mass through a holebelow, and, the wind being driven in, the process is soon completed.

To-day we nearly had a serious accident: one of the quartermasters,in getting into a canoe, fell into the stream, which, swelled by theheavy rains, was running swiftly by; he was carried away in a moment,but the Kayans were instantly after, and brought him back safe, thoughhalf-choked with water.

At sunrise we started on our return. All the inhabitants of the townassembled on the river’s bank to witness our departure. The steamerturned with ease, and was swept with great speed down the stream. Wetook a native trading vessel in tow, which assisted our steering, andreached the mouth on the following day without the slightest accident.

I hear that the exclamations of the Kayans, when they first perceivedthe steamer rounding the point,[123] were—“Here is a god come among us!”others cried, “It is a mighty spirit!”

The latitude of the town is 3° 30´; the longitude, 114° 40´.

I regret I was never again enabled to visit the Baram River, as,besides the personal gratification derived, there is a great publicgood done, by a constant friendly surveillance over the aborigines.Many of the Kayans returned my visit to Labuan, but I was absent; itwas not, however, material, as they were well treated by the colonialofficers.

Whilst in Baram I could hear nothing to confirm the account that any ofthe Kayans were cannibals. We first heard the charge against them fromthree Dayaks of the tribe of Sibaru, whose residence is on the KapuasRiver, in the district of Santang, under Dutch influence. I was presentwhen they were carefully questioned, and, though their information hasalready appeared, I will repeat the substance.

They said that their tribe and a party of Kayans attacked,unsuccessfully, a small Malay village; but, in the fright, the body ofone of their enemies was secured. Their allies immediately sliced offthe flesh and put it away in their side baskets; and in the evening,while all the party were preparing their supper, they brought out thehuman flesh, and roasted and ate it. They saw it themselves. The Dayaksof Jangkang, on the Skeium, between the districts of the Sarawak andDutch territories, are universally accused of cannibalism.

I do not remember having heard any other persons actually affirmthat they had seen the Kayans eat human flesh, till the subject wasbrought up last year[124] before the present Sultan of Borneo and hiscourt; when Usup, one of the young nobles present, said that in 1855some Muka men were executed at Bintulu, and that a few of the Kayans,who had assisted in their capture, took portions of the bodies of thecriminals, roasted and ate them. This was witnessed by himself and manyothers who were then present. The Kayans had not, as a body, joined inthis disgusting feast; but, perhaps, some of the more ferocious maypractise it to strike terror into their enemies.

The account given by the Malays of the former system of trade pursuedby the Kayans is curious. They say that when a native merchant arrivedat the landing-place of a village, the chief settled the terms withhim, and all the goods were carried up to the houses, and placed in aprepared spot, secure from pilferers. For a week no business was done,but the stranger and his followers were feasted at the public expense.After that, the goods were brought out and spread in the public room,and the prices fixed. The chief selected what he wanted, and the nextin rank in rotation, till all the villagers were satisfied. Threemonths’ credit was always given, but at the appointed day the producein exchange was ready for the trader. I imagine the Malays would beglad to return to the old system.

The Kayans were seldom very welcome guests at a small village, helpingthemselves freely to everything that took their fancy; but this onlyoccurred, as a Malay shrewdly observed, in places where they werefeared.

Visit to the Left-hand Branch of the Sarawak River—Attackof Peguans—Sarawak River—Capture of English Ship—TheDurian Fruit—Iron-wood Posts—Rapids—Rapid ofthe Corpse—Mountains—Village of San Pro—LovelyScenery—Head-house—Cave—Upper Cave—UnfortunateBoast—Pushing up the Rapids—Story of the DatuTamanggong—Invulnerable Men—How to become one—GrungLanding-place—Sibungoh Dayaks—Dayak Canoes—LovelyScenery—Uses of the Bambu—Fish—Sharks in theUpper Waters—Repartee—Pigs Swimming—Farmhouses inTrees—Floods—Suspension Bridges—Chinese Traders—Dress ofLand Dayaks—System of Forced Trade—Interesting Tribe—Storyof the Murder of Pa Mua—The Trial—Painful Scene—DelightfulBathing—Passing the Rapids—Walk to Grung—Dayak Paths—Villageof Grung—Warm Reception—Ceremonies—Lingua Franca—PeculiarMedicine—Prayer—Sacred Dance—Sprinkling Blood—Effect offormer System of Government—Language.

I had already made many visits among the Dayaks, but had neverpenetrated to the interior waters of the Sarawak river. I was,therefore, quite ready to accept Captain Brooke’s invitation toaccompany him on the tour of inspection he was about to make among theLand Dayaks of the left-hand branch of the Sarawak. As the stream isfull of rapids, our crew was selected of Sarawak men, well acquaintedwith the peculiar navigation. I may here remark that there is somethingcharacteristic about the true Sarawak man: his look is eminentlyrespectable, his[126] face is longer and more marked than that of the otherMalays, his complexion often darker, his manners quiet and respectful.There is a tradition current in this country, that once upon a time,the capital of Sarawak was at Santubong, the western entrance of theriver; that during the absence of the men on an expedition up thecountry, some marauding Peguans arrived there in their ships, and onfinding the defenceless state of the town attacked it, carried itby assault, and made off with their spoils and innumerable femaleprisoners. The Sarawak men fortunately returned a few hours after, andinstantly gave chase. Their fast war boats soon overtook the clumsyPegu ships. They made short work of it: killed the marauding chiefs andbrought back the rest prisoners to Santubong. The Samarahan and some ofthe Sarawak men are said to be descended from them, and this, if true,may account for the darker complexion.

The Sarawak river is not navigable for ships far above the town, thoughat the height of the flood a large vessel was once taken fifteen milesabove it to a place called Ledah Tanah. This occurred some thirtyyears ago. A large English ship, laden with sugar, put into the mouthof the Sarawak river for water. The captain and mates were invited tomeet the rajahs of the country. They went on shore, where they wereinformed that their vessel was too leaky to proceed on her voyage,but that they would be provided with a passage to Singapore in one ofthe native prahus. Resistance was useless. They were surrounded byhundreds of armed men, and were hurried off to sea immediately to bemurdered at[127] the first island. The Lascar crew were detainedas slaves. Two of them were still alive when I first reached Sarawak.Many of the Malays have told me that sugar never was so plentiful intheir houses either before or since. The banks of the river on eitherside continue low, and are adapted in their present state for ricecultivation, though with a little drainage, the Chinese can render thesoil admirably suited for sugar-cane and other cultivations. It is apretty but monotonous pull, the scenery being only occasionally variedby views of the surrounding mountains.

We passed the first night at Ledah Tanah, or Tongue of Land, thepoint of junction of the two branches of the river. Here the Rajahhad a cattle farm, and a pretty cottage surrounded by fruit trees,principally of magnificent durians. This fruit is the subject of muchcontroversy. It varies in size from a six to sixty-eight pounder shot,and looks like an enormous chestnut, with its prickly outer coating on.On opening this rough rind, we find five or six rows of seeds coveredwith a white or yellow pulpy substance, which tastes and smells like acustard strongly flavoured with onions, or, to those who delight in it,it is of a delicious and unapproachable flavour, and, when perfectlyfresh, has a pleasing perfume. These different opinions are given atthe same moment, by different persons describing the same fruit.

When the people abandoned Santubong, they retired to Ledah Tanah, wherethey established their town; the posts of some of their houses stillremain, being of iron-wood, which may be said practically to last forever.

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We continued our course up the river, the character of the scenerybecoming more interesting every moment. The stream narrows, the wateris clearer, shallower, and its course is interrupted by rocks and largestones, over which the stream foams, dashes, breaks, rendering thepassage dangerous for small boats; indeed, the name of one of theserapids, Rhium Bangkei—“The Rapid of the Corpse”—would seem to provethat fatal accidents do occur. The swamping of a boat, or the loss ofgoods, by inexperienced hands, is not rare.

The first mountain we passed was that of Stat, which, though not morethan 1,500 feet high, is in many respects remarkable, rising abruptlyfrom the low country, a real isolated peak that may be distinguishedeven out at sea; from one view it appears like the end of a bentfinger. In common with most of the limestone mountains in Borneo, itpresents bare, perpendicular surfaces, with jagged rocks at the edges,but surrounded by vegetation, and that vegetation growing where soilcan scarcely be supposed to exist; in fact, the roots of the treespenetrate far into the inner portion of the mountain, through deepfissures and clefts. The other mountains visible during our progressto-day had the same general features, particularly the two which risenear the village of San Pro, where we intended to pass the night.

In our evening walk we were much struck with the remarkable beautyof this place; the two lofty and almost perpendicular mountains riseabruptly on either side of the river, leaving but a strip of land onthe water’s edge. One called Sibayat towers above the village on theleft bank; the other,[129] Si Bigi, is on the opposite side; the river, nowrunning through limestone, sparkles clear at their feet, underminingthe rocks on either side, and forming fantastic little caves, crownedabove with noble overhanging trees. Abrupt turns, short reaches, andpebbly beds added to the beauty of the scene, and, just as the lastrays of the sun were gilding the summits of the twin peaks, we satdown on the huge trunk of a fallen tree, which the floods of therainy season had swept down from the interior, and half buried in thesand and pebbles. There we remained till the shades of evening hadcompletely closed in around us, speculating on the probable future ofthe country, and the words almost rose simultaneously to our lips—werewe missionaries, we would fix our houses here. With my own idea ofwhat a missionary should do, there could be no better spot than SanPro to commence operations. The village was not large, but it isbetter completely to gain over twenty families, than exhaust one’senergies merely skimming over the surface of a dozen tribes, leavingno permanent impression. We fixed on the best locality for a house, atrim garden, a diminutive church, and a school. It is a soil that wouldrepay culture.

We were not fortunate in the time of our visit, as most of the peoplewere away preparing their farms. We took up our residence in thehead-house, which, however, was destitute of the usual ornaments. Itwas quite new. All head-houses have the same appearance, being builton high posts above the ground, and in a circular form, with a sharpconical roof. The windows are, in fact, a large portion of the roof,being raised up, like the lid of a desk,[130] during fine weather, andsupported by props; but when rain or night comes on, they are removed,and the whole appearance is snug in the extreme, particularly when abright fire is lit in the centre, and throws a fitful glow on all thesurrounding objects. Around the room are rough divans, on which the menusually sit or sleep, but that night, there being a cold wind and adrizzling rain, a good fire was kept up, and the people crowded near.I awoke at about two, and put my head out of my curtains to look at anight-scene: a dozen of the old men were there collected close overthe fire, smoking the tobacco we had given them, and discoursing ina low tone about us. The flames occasionally shot up brilliantly andshowed me the curious group, and then, as they faded away, nothing butthe outlines of the half-naked old men could be seen cowering over theembers, as a ruder blast or a heavier shower brought the cold wind uponthem.

Started early in the morning. The limestone rock, undermined in everydirection, was worn into very singular shapes. Occasionally the talltrees, finding insufficient support, had broken from the bank, andslipped their roots into the river, to be completely washed awayby next flood. At ten, brought up on a pebbly beach for breakfast,opposite a little cave, about which the Dayaks have as usual astory—this time an indelicate one. Continuing our course, we reachedthe mountain of Rumbang, remarkable for its curious caves. We hadbrought guides with us from San Pro, and stopping at the nearest pointwent ashore, and after a walk and climb of a few hundred yards, reachedthe entrance of the first cave.[131] Descending over a few rough stones,we found ourselves in the interior, through which a small stream makesits way. Having lighted a candle and a torch, we advanced—now fordingthe brook, now jumping over it: the floor is principally pebbly, thoughoccasionally we met with soft sand and slippery rock. The cave itselfhas no remarkable feature, but is nevertheless interesting. Its heightvaried between thirty, forty, and fifty feet—its exit beautiful inrugged feature in a soft light, which subdued the uncouth shapes ofthe rocks, and rendered them striking and pleasing to the eye. This weparticularly noticed on our return, when we approached the entrance.Then the light played on the surface of the stream, as it bubbledonward in its course, and the reflection slightly illuminated thesurrounding features, reminding me of a robber’s cave in a dissolvingview.

To-day we only penetrated through the mountain and looked at thecountry beyond, a restricted view, as the jungle closely hemmed roundthe cave: afterwards I heard that we need not have returned the way wecame, but that if we did not fear a steep climb, there was a cavernexactly above the one we had come through that would lead us back tothe river—in fact, an upper tunnel. We thought at first it must be ajoke of the Dayaks, but they assured us of the truth: so we told themto lead the way. It was difficult, in fact very difficult, until wecame to an overhanging rock, against which a long pole leant with anoccasional cross-piece; at the top was another overhanging one, roundwhich it was necessary to pass by leaning the body over the abyss,and trusting entirely to our hands and to the strength of the[132] roots.The Dayak guide led the way, and as we approached this difficulty weobserved him smile. It was at an unfortunate boast. When we firstproposed to make the ascent, our guide observed—“No one but a Dayakcan go up there.” I unfortunately answered, “Wherever a Dayak can go,an Englishman can follow.” Hence his smile. He proceeded cautiously,as these rough ladders are often rotten, and, it is said, occasionallyleft unfastened to entrap an unwary thief, who may desire to pilferthe edible swallows’ nests found in the upper caves. When he hadreached the summit, he invited me to follow; there was no help for it,so I tried; the pole was no great difficulty, but the rounding theoverhanging rock with my body leaning over the abyss tested my strengthand nerve; one of the party followed, the other thought it wiser toreturn by the way he came. It repaid us, however; the cave, though notlofty, was full of large chambers, of narrow passages, and occasionallyof huge chasms penetrating to the depths below. They said the wholemountain was perforated by these galleries. Our return to the boat wasdifficult, as we had to force our way through the tangled bushes, andover ground unknown even to the Dayaks. We found our companion seatedin the boat, discussing some cool claret and water, and as he beheldus coming in tired, hot, covered with dirt, and with clothes half tornfrom our bodies, I fear he did not envy us.

Our men had now to drop their paddles once at least in every reach, andto seize their poles and force us along up the gradually lengtheningrapids; the motion of the boat thus propelled is exceedingly[133] pleasant;at one spot we noticed a Dayak suspension-bridge that spanned the riverabove a dangerous rapid. Kasim, a favourite follower, turned to us andsaid, “It was here that the Datu Tumanggong nearly lost his life.” Weasked how. I will let Kasim relate his story; it is an illustration ofBornean ways.

The Datu Tumanggong is the chief third in rank in Sarawak, and was inhis early days known as a successful pirate. He was also the terrorof the Dayaks. Many years before Sir James Brooke arrived, he hadfor some cause killed a Dayak of the tribe of Si-Buñgoh, in thosedays not considered a deed requiring particular notice; but on thisoccasion the tribe determined to be revenged. The next time the Datuwas known to be on his way up the river, the Dayaks assembled in greatnumbers round the suspension-bridge, concealing themselves among thetrees. Unsuspicious of the ambuscade, the chief, with twenty Malayfollowers, was endeavouring to pole up the rapid, when a shower ofspears threw them into confusion; the Datu was principally aimed at,his umbrella was torn to shreds, and he was wounded severely aboutthe shoulders. The men dropping their poles, allowed the boat to getacross the stream, and she was instantly upset; while they, unable tosee their enemies, scattered themselves in every direction, and hidingamong the rocks shouted to their chief to fire. They say he stood hisground manfully, and fired twice without success at his foes, who,thus emboldened, drew nearer. The water was rushing down with greatforce and reached over his knees, which rendered the operation ofloading[134] extremely difficult, but his third shot was fortunate, forbringing down the boldest Dayak, it created a panic among the rest.On collecting his followers, he found two killed and several wounded,among the latter one of our present boatmen. I have often heard theDatu tell the story since with great glee, his voice rising, and goingthrough all his remembered movements with wonderful spirit. “Ah, I wasyoung in those days.”

There is a very singular belief prevalent among the Malays—it isthis, that men, by going through certain ceremonies, can renderthemselves invulnerable. The Datu, notwithstanding the many wounds hehas received, is still popularly believed to be so. They generally saythat these men can never have their skin cut by any sharp instrument,and the offer to test the truth by the application of a razor is notconsidered polite. The old Datu has often said—“It is as well that thevulgar should believe it, though we know better.”

The favourite spot chosen by the novitiates was in the jungle at theback of Sir James Brooke’s former house, between two little streams,called the greater and lesser Bedil (a brass gun). The aspirant wasrequired to remain three days alone in the woods without speaking toa soul; to live very sparingly, and not to indulge in the favouriteluxuries of tobacco, sirih and betel. If on the third day he dreamt ofa beautiful spirit descending to speak to him, he might consider thathis work was accomplished. Patah, the Datu’s son, a fine, bold and goodfellow, told me he had tried twice, but the fairy had never appeared tohim.

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On reaching the landing-place leading to the Grung village, we founda large party of Dayaks assembled, who begged us to remain and visittheir houses; but instead, we promised to return in a few days, andmeet the representatives of the neighbouring tribes at their village.We now pushed on to the Sibuñgoh Dayaks, who inhabited the river’sbank; but on our stopping at the landing-place, an old man came downto say that the long house before us was pamali or tabooed, and thatthe Orang Kaya was himself in that unenviable predicament. So we pulledacross the river and took up our quarters near a pebbly beach; the menmaking temporary mat huts, while we stayed in the boat. In the courseof the evening, a number of the elders of the neighbouring villagehouses of the same tribe came down to see us, and promised to providesmall canoes and Dayaks to take us up the stream, as it had become tooshallow to allow of our continuing in the large boat.

At six the Sibuñgoh Dayaks brought the light canoes with which we wereto continue our progress up the river. We left all our crew behind,taking with us only our personal servants and Kasim. It was quitea little procession. Each canoe contained but two Dayaks and onepassenger. We started, and were poled up at a rapid pace against thestream. Our canoes were small, drawing but a few inches of water, andwere managed, as I have said, by two Dayaks, one standing at the stem,the other at the stern; with long bamboos in their hands, they impelledus forward at a great pace.

The scenery varied much; occasionally we passed beneath high hills,which rose smilingly above us,[136] clothed to the summit with vegetation;Bornean hills seldom frown, their clothing is too luxuriant, theiraspect generally free from harsh outlines, even their precipices havesome softening feature. On we passed, sometimes a long reach stretchedbefore us, completely overshadowed by trees whose branches entwiningfrom bank to bank completely sheltered us from the sun, then recliningon our pillows we could indulge in snatches from the Quarterlyor Edinburgh. Could the authors of some of the articles butimagine the variety of situations in which their effusions would beperused, could they anticipate the delight they inspire in the Britishtraveller who works his way onwards even towards the interior ofBorneo, they would, I think, be surprised and gratified. The magazinesand reviews are the solaces of educated exiles in all positions. Fromthese soft scenes and pleasant employments, we were constantly arousedby our approach to roaring rapids, which foaming over scattered rocksthreatened destruction to our frail canoes; but the skill of the Dayakwas never at fault, we passed every obstruction without an accident. Atthese rapids, as at those before mentioned, boats are often lost.

As we approached the country of the Senah tribe, the banks became moreuniform in appearance, and the bamboo constantly formed the principalvegetation: these bamboos are wonderfully useful to the Dayaks, andare turned to many purposes. In height they sometimes exceed sixtyfeet. During this tour I have seen them used, stretched in lengths,for paths, placed notched for steps up steep ascents, as railings forrice fields and yam gardens, as posts[137] for houses; split they form thefloors, beaten out they are the walls of many of the dwellings, andneat and pretty they look; cut into lengths, water is carried in them;joined together they form aqueducts that stretch for hundreds of yards;with them the Dayaks can strike a light; and last, not least, they areused to cook rice in—they are hard enough to stand the fire until thefood be ready to eat. They are put to numerous other uses, but theabove enumeration is sufficient.

The Senah Dayaks plant yams to a great extent; they grow to a largesize, and boiled have an excellent flavour, whether used as a vegetableor a salad. These Dayaks are called rich from the abundance of theirrice, which flourishes in their fertile valleys, but more is chieflyowing to their industry; we saw many instances of the latter in theirfishing apparatus, which was often very extensive; while the tribeslower down, with better opportunities, seemed quite to neglect theirfisheries. Our men unfortunately have brought no casting net withthem, so we are obliged to be content to hear from the Malays thatthe flavour of the fresh-water fish caught here is excellent. It is acurious fact, that far as we are above the influence of the flood tide,and with so many rapids below us, yet sharks are found here in thefresh water. I call it a fact because native testimony is unanimous. Iremember hearing Mr. Crookshank say to the Datu Patinggi, the principalnative chief, that he considered it a very curious thing that a fish,supposed to live only in the sea, should frequent these interior waters.

“Not at all,” answered the Datu, “not more curious than seeing youEnglishmen abandon your[138] own country to come so far and live among usMalays.”

As a general rule, the sharks and alligators do not meddle with humanbeings up here, but confine their attention to the fish, the dogs,and the numerous droves of wild pigs constantly passing from one bankto the other. During the fruit season the movement among these lastis very remarkable; Mr. Brereton told me he once saw at least threehundred in one drove crossing the river Batang Lupar, where it wasabove seven hundred yards broad. I have often seen them myself inlesser numbers; on one occasion I was present when seventeen werekilled, which formed a regular feast for some aborigines who securedthe bodies. Generally a fine old boar leads the way, and is followedvery closely by the rest. They grow to a great size; I have seen onecarefully measured, his height at the shoulder was forty-two inches,and the length of head was twenty-two.

The Senahs have built many of their farm-houses in the treesoverhanging the stream; in one was a whole family engaged in theimportant operation of preparing dinner; and it was amusing to observethe little children coming fearlessly to the very edge of the platformabove the rushing stream to look at us, standing in positions sodangerous that they would drive an English mother distracted.

As we approach the interior of the Sarawak river, the mountains becomemore lofty, and the stream takes the character of a torrent; afterheavy rains it rises suddenly and to a great height. I have seen grassleft by the receding waters at least forty feet above our presentlevel. Even after one heavy shower,[139] all the fords are impassable, sothat to avoid this inconvenience the Senah Dayaks have thrown loftybridges across, to facilitate their communication between their severalvillages.

How light and elegant do these suspension-bridges look—one inparticular I will attempt to describe. It was a broad part of thestream, and two fine old trees hung over the water opposite each other;long bamboos well lashed together formed the main portion, and werefastened by smaller ones to the branches above; railings on either sidewere added to give greater strength and security, yet the whole affairappeared so flimsy, and was so far above the stream, that when we saw awoman and child pass over it, we drew our breath till they were safe onthe other side. And yet we knew they were secure.

I have often passed over them myself; they are of the width of onebamboo, but the side railings give one confidence. Accidents dohappen from carelessly allowing the rattan lashings to rot. Once whenpressed for time I was passing rapidly across with many men followingclose behind me, when it began to sway most unpleasantly, and crack,crack was heard as several of the supports gave way. Most of my menfortunately were not near the centre, and relieved the bridge of theirweight by clinging to the branches, otherwise those who were with me inthe middle would have been precipitated on the rocks far below. Afterthat we always passed singly over such neglected bridges.

Towards the afternoon we reached the first house, inhabited by theOrang Kaya’s younger brother. This tribe is more scattered than isusually the case here,[140] four, six, eight families live together; and wenowhere noticed those immense long village houses so common in othertribes.

We found some Chinese trading for pigs and rice, one of whom had beenestablished in this place for about six years. The house where westopped for the night was tolerably comfortable, with the walls roughlyplanked. It is evident that these Dayaks are very pleased to see us,and upon their pressing invitations we have agreed to stay some days togive time for the whole tribe to be collected.

In the evening we took a long walk over the steep hills at the backof the village, and had a fair view of Penrisen, one of the highestmountains in Sarawak. It is estimated at above 5,000 feet. It isscarcely in Sarawak, as a portion of its southern face belongs to thosecountries beyond the border claimed by the Dutch. We had a good view ofthe interior of the Sadong country, a fine succession of hill and dale,with blue mountains in the distance.

We stayed in the house nearly the whole day, as the Dayaks wished todance and feast in our presence. The gongs were kept going, the drumsbeaten, and all within five yards of us, until our heads were dizzy.Occasionally, from sheer weariness, or from anxiety to partake of thegood things produced for the feast, this din would cease, and then wecould enter into conversation with the elders.

The dress of the Dayaks is very simple; the men wear the chawat, astrip of cloth round their loins; a jacket and head-dress, the lastsometimes of bark, and fantastically put on; their ornaments are brassrings, necklaces of beads and sometimes of tiger-cat’s[141] teeth, and veryneat plaited rings of rattan, stained black. The women have a shortpetticoat reaching from the hips to the knees, a jacket, and roundtheir waists a band, often ten inches wide, of bark or bamboo, kepttogether by brass wire or rattans. It fits tight, and is only removedon the woman becoming pregnant.

Captain Brooke’s principal object in making this tour was to inquireinto the complaints which had been brought against the Datu Patinggiof forcing the Dayak tribes to deal with him, whether they wanted hisgoods or not, and insisting upon fixing his own price on the articlessupplied. The complaints were more than substantiated; even the Chinesewere unable to procure rice, and were forced to content themselves withthe pig trade.

This was the Datu’s system: he sent up a chanang, a kind of smallgong much esteemed by the Dayaks, and ordered them to buy it at anexorbitant rate; before they had paid for that he sent another, keepingup a constant supply to prevent them trading with other people. Whenhe heard that another Malay had sold a chanang in fair trade to theseDayaks, he would instantly send two more and force them to receivethem. He had done the same with regard to salt, and to the clothes ofboth male and female, striving to his utmost to secure a monopoly. Inthis path he was followed by all his relations and connexions, theirthreats bullied and terrified the Dayaks, who loudly complained also ofbeing used as beasts of burden without receiving hire.

The Senahs are altogether an interesting tribe; in manner the men aremore polite; the women are[142] fuller of life; some of the girls werepretty, their best age being six to sixteen, after that they begin tofall off. They appear to marry very young, and have for Asiatics ratherlarge families—four, five, and six children were quite common. Some ofthe old gentlemen observed that, though they were only allowed to marryone wife, yet they were not strictly faithful to her if a favourableopportunity occurred, which observation seemed much to amuse theassembly.

Among the women was the widow of a Dayak, whose story is well worthrelating as illustrative of their character and of their ways. He wasa fine, handsome man, certainly the most handsome Dayak I have everseen, tall and powerfully made, with a bold, open countenance; he wascalled Pa Bunang. The Orang Kaya of the Senahs took a liking to him,and having no children adopted and found him a wife among his ownrelations. She was a nice-looking girl, plump and well made. In formertimes the husband had been much noticed by Europeans, and in the prideof his heart determined to be the first man in the tribe: the onlyone he thought likely to oppose his pretensions was Pa Mua, the OrangKaya’s brother, who would not allow him to interfere in public affairs,and opposed his pretensions to superiority, in which he was supportedby the sympathies of the whole community. Pa Bunang then determined onmore violent methods than he had yet practised; he left the tribe for afew days and returned with the announcement that the Sarawak Governmentwas so pleased with him, that they intended to make him a great man inthe tribe. Resolving to get rid[143] of his rival, he lay in wait for himone day in a by-path, concealing himself carefully behind some bushes;the unsuspecting Pa Mua passed by, when he sprang upon him, and withone blow of his sword laid him dead at his feet, and then rushed intothe jungle, thinking he had done the deed unnoticed, but at the momentof striking, the son of the murdered man came round the turning ofthe path in time to witness the act and to recognize the culprit. Thealarm was given, and before the man could reach the Orang Kaya’s house,where his wife and child resided, a menacing crowd had assembled. Hecoolly assured them that he was acting under the orders of the SarawakGovernment, and was now going to report the accomplishment of the deed.Though the people did not believe him, they suffered him to depart withhis family, but followed closely in his track. They denounced him, hewas instantly seized, thrown into prison, and after ten days, to allowwitnesses to assemble, the affair came on before the Sarawak Court.

It was so curious a case that I determined to be present at the trial.I found the court crowded, at least a dozen Englishmen were assembled,who, with the Malay chiefs, acted as a kind of jury. Though the casewas clear in many respects, yet the greatest pains were taken to obtainthe best evidence: the son of the murdered man was present, but itwas at first feared from the preliminary inquiries, that he would beafraid to give his evidence before the prisoner. When he was calledinto court the lad appeared perfectly changed; he gave his evidencewith a coolness, a precision, and yet with an intensity that[144] nothingbut the deepest feelings could excite; he never faltered once, butwound up his story by pointing to the prisoner and saying, “My fatherwas killed by that man.” The prisoner could offer no defence; at firsthe denied the deed, then said that Pa Mua had seduced his wife, thenconfessed and implored for mercy. The verdict was unanimous, and he wascondemned to death. A fearful scene now took place; the constables hadvery improperly allowed the wife and child to sit close beside him,and he had, while the lad was giving his evidence, unnoticed by any,got his little child to crawl in between his manacled arms. When heheard the sentence he threw himself on his knees and begged in piteousterms for mercy, but finding it was useless he declared his wife andchild should die with him; he first struck at the former and then triedto strangle the little thing between his arms, and failing in that,while struggling with the police, he fixed his teeth so tightly inthe child’s neck that they had to be forced open with the point of adrawn sword. His wife fled, and the child was saved, but he continuedto struggle, and his roars could be heard until he was secured in hiscell. I never witnessed a more painful scene. A marked contrast to thatof the Malay who, calm and placid to the last moment, receives hiscondemnation with the observation, “It is your sentence,” and walksquietly to prison and to execution.

The evening was spent in dancing, singing, and drinking, until the funwaxed fast and furious.

The next station up the river is San Piuh, which we did not visit, asbusiness prevented our extending our tour. We were delighted with theposition of the[145] house in which we were staying; it was on the bank ofthe stream, here but a foot deep, occasionally not even six inches, sothat the canoes had to be dragged over the pebbly bottom. The watercoming from the neighbouring high mountains is both clear and cool,offering delightful places for bathing. In one large and deep pool, alittle below the landing-place, the Dayaks say alligators congregate;but if so, they must be harmless, as I saw very little children bathingthere; but yet I did not venture, as they might have been attracted bythe unusual colour of my skin. The baths we obtain in the interior areof themselves worth the exertion of reaching those sequestered spots;the refreshing and invigorating feeling after a plunge into the coolstream is indeed delightful.

About midday we parted from our kind hosts, not before we had givensolemn promises to return again as soon as possible, and now directedour faces homeward. The descent of the river was exciting, nowleisurely suffering the canoe to float with the stream; then, as thedistant roar announced a rapid, intelligent were the movements of theDayaks, as they chose the least dangerous part, the waters increasingin speed as we approached the fall; then caught by the stream, wehurried along at the pace of a racehorse, and dashing through the foamwere shot into the tranquil pool that generally forms below a rapid. Atone we were compelled to take out all our baggage, and the non-swimmerswalked past the obstruction to be re-shipped below. It was withfeelings, half of envy, half of admiration, that I saw Captain Brooketempt the danger.

[146]

About half-way down to Sibuñgoh we saw white flags overhanging theriver at a landing-place, and there in a temporary hut was waitingthe Orang Kaya of Brang; we stayed with him about an hour, andresisting his pressing invitation to his village, on account of ourprevious engagement, heard what he desired to communicate, and thencontinued our course to Sibuñgoh. We soon transhipped our goods tothe large boat, and were not sorry, as many hours in a small canoe isfatiguing. We found that the Orang Kaya was no longer under taboo, sowe stayed some little time with him, and then hurried on to the nextlanding-place, where we found a large party of Dayaks ready to escortus to the village of Grung.

The walk was pleasant, principally over the land that had formerly beenfarmed, and was now covered with brushwood and young trees, affordingbut little shelter from the burning sun. The country was undulating,with pretty pebbly streams in the hollows. Much rain having fallen inthis neighbourhood during the last few days the paths were execrable,even for Dayak paths, which are, perhaps, the worst in the world. Overa marshy soil a line of single trees is laid, end to end, on which youbalance yourself as you move along; there is no danger here, except ofa slip into the oozy mud, sometimes up to the waist, affording to thenon-sufferers great cause of merriment as you struggle and flounderto a drier spot; but these trunks of trees thrown over ravines aredangerous after rain, as when deprived of their bark they are slippery.But it is astonishing what use will do; we soon began to criticize andpronounce a wretched quagmire a tolerable path. The Dayak is so active,and so[147] accustomed to the work, that he seldom thinks of doing morethan felling a small tree, clearing it of its branches, and throwingit across the smaller streams as a bridge, except after harvest, whencarrying home the rice, a slight railing is added to give steadiness tohis movements.

The village of Grung is prettily situated near a small and clearstream, and is surrounded by dense groves of fruit-trees, particularlyof durians, while occasionally the graceful areca palm rises near thehouses. In one thing the Grungs excel every other tribe of Dayaks Ihave ever seen, and that is in dirt; their houses were dirty, theirmats were dirty, and their little children could only be described aspositively filthy.

We found the village crowded with the representatives of all theneighbouring tribes; long strings of men, women, and children werecontinually arriving as we approached. Directly we ascended the notchedtree that served as a ladder to the Orang Kaya’s house, we foundthat we were no longer free agents. A crowd of old women instantlyseized us, and pulled off our shoes and stockings, and commenced mostvigorously washing our feet; this water was preserved to fertilize thefields. We were then conducted to a platform but slightly raised abovethe floor, and requested to sit down, but the mats were so dirty thatwe could scarcely prevail upon ourselves to do so—perhaps the onlytime it has occurred to us; generally the mats are charmingly neat andclean. The arrival of our bedding freed us from this difficulty.

We were surrounded by a dense mass of men, women, and children, whoappeared all to be talking[148] at once; in fact, more excitement was shownthan I have before observed. We had to do so many things, and almostall at once: to sprinkle rice about, to pour a little water on eachchild that was presented to us, until, from force of example, the womenand even the men insisted upon the same ceremony being performed onthem.

Silence being at last restored, Kasim explained in a long speech theobject of Captain Brooke’s visit; he spoke in Malay, interlarding itoccasionally with Dayak phrases—I say Malay, but Malay that is onlyused when addressing the aborigines, clipping and altering words,changing the pronunciation, until I find that some have been deceivedinto believing this was the true Dayak language. It is to these peoplewhat the Lingua Franca is to Western Asia.

We got a little respite while eating our dinner, but as soon as we hadfinished we were again surrounded; the priestesses of the place wereespecially active, tying little bells round our wrists and ancles, andbringing rice for us to—how shall I explain it—in fact, for us tospit on, and this delectable morsel they swallowed. No sooner had thoselearned women been satisfied, than parents brought their children, andinsisted upon their being physicked in the same way, taking care tohave a full share themselves. One horrid old woman actually came sixtimes.

The Orang Kaya now advanced, and there was strict attention to hearwhat he was about to say. He walked to the window, and threw somegrains out, and then commenced a kind of prayer, asking for goodharvests, for fertility for the women, and for health to[149] them all.During the whole invocation he kept scattering rice about. The peoplewere very attentive at first, but soon the murmur of many voicesalmost drowned the old man’s tones. He did not appear very much inearnest, but repeated what he had to say as if he were going over awell-remembered but little understood lesson; in fact, it is saidthese invocations are in words not comprehended even by the Dayaksthemselves—perhaps they are in some Indian language.

Then a space was cleared for dancing; the old Orang Kaya and the elderscommenced, and were followed by the priestesses. They walked up to usin succession, passed their hands over our arms, pressed our palms,and then uttering a yell or a prolonged screech went off in a slowmeasured tread, moving their arms and hands in unison with their feetuntil they reached the end of the house, and came back to where we sat;then another pressure of the palm, a few more passes to draw virtueout of us, another yell, and off they went again; at one time therewere at least a hundred dancing. Few of the young people joined in whatappeared in this case a sacred dance.

For three nights we had had little sleep, on account of theseceremonies, but at length, notwithstanding clash of gong and beat ofdrum, we sank back in our beds, and were soon fast asleep. In perhaps acouple of hours I awoke; my companion was still sleeping uneasily; thedin was deafening, and I sat up to look around. Unfortunate movement!I was instantly seized by the hands by two priests, and led up to theOrang Kaya, who was leisurely cutting a fowl’s throat.[150] He wantedCaptain Brooke to perform the following ceremony, but I objected to hisbeing awakened, and offered to do it for him. I was taken to the veryend of the house, and the bleeding fowl put in my hands; holding him byhis legs, I had to strike the lintels of the doors, sprinkling a littleblood over each; when this was over, I had to waive the fowl over theheads of the women, and wish them fertility; over the children, andwish them health; over all the people, and wish them prosperity; outof the window, and invoke good crops for them. At last I reached mymats, and sat down, preparatory to another sleep, when that horridold woman led another detachment of her sex forward to re-commencethe physicking; fortunately but few came, and after setting them offdancing again I fell asleep, and, in spite of all the noises, remainedso till morning.

It is a fact unnoticed by us before, that among the Dayak tribes thereare few girls between the age of ten and fifteen (1852). It is astriking proof of the effects that have attended the change of systemfrom native lawlessness to English superintendence. Before Sir JamesBrooke held the reins of Government the little female children wereseized for slaves and concubines by the Rajahs and Malay chiefs; sincethat practice has been put an end to, the houses are crowded withinteresting girls of nine and younger.

The expression of all classes and of both sexes of these people isthat of a subdued melancholy. A man fresh from Europe would doubtlessnotice many more peculiarities in these tribes, which being familiarto me pass without remark. Their houses I have before described, andwhat is suitable for the one is so for the[151] other. Nearly all therepresentatives present are but those of the branches of a single tribewhich has for many years been scattered. Their language is the samein words, though the accent is occasionally different—the effect ofseparation and other causes. It is difficult, without long and minuteinvestigation, to familiarize oneself with their individual history andpolitics.

Madame Pfeiffer—Chinese Village—ChineseMaidens—Sirambau—Ascent of the Mountain—DifficultClimbing—Forests of Fruit Trees—Scenery—SirambauVillage—Houses—The “Look-out”—Scenery—Head-houses—OrangKaya Mita—His modest Request—Sir James Brooke’sCottage—Natural Bath-house—Chinese Gold Workings—TapangTrees—Social Life of the Land Dayaks—Ceremonies at aBirth—Courtship—Betrothment—Marriage—Burial—Graves—TheSexton—Funeral Feast—Children—FemaleChastity—Divorces—Cause of Separations—Anecdote.

Madame Pfeiffer, the traveller, suddenly made her appearance among usin December, 1851; she was a woman of middle height, active for herage, with an open countenance and a very pleasant smile. She lived withus for some days, and then we took her to visit the Dayaks of Sirambauon the right hand branch. We selected a very fast, long prahu, fittedup with a little cabin for her, and another for ourselves, and having anumerous crew, pulled past our usual resting-place at Ledah Tanah, anddid not stop till we reached the Chinese village of Siniawan, where wetook up our quarters for the night.

There are about three hundred Celestials settled here, principallyengaged in shop-keeping, though a few cultivate gardens. They areevidently thriving, as the Dayaks of the surrounding country resort tothis place, and there is a constant influx of Chinese[153] and Malay goldworkers. Their women, half-breeds, are better-looking than any othersin this part of the world; some of the girls were handsome, in onepoint they set a bright example to their neighbours, and that is incleanliness. The Malay girls bathe at least three times a day, but arenot careful of the condition of their clothes, while the Dayaks are toooften neglectful of both their skins and their coverings.

It was quite a pleasure to look at the little Chinese maidens in theirprim, neat dresses, and their parents evidently have a pride in theirappearance. To them Madame Pfeiffer was a great attraction, and a crowdfollowed her everywhere, and wondered at the eagerness she displayed inthe chase of a butterfly, or the capture of an insect.

Siniawan is situated on a plain near the foot of the Sirambau mountain,and affords an excellent market for the produce of the interminablefruit groves that cover the lower part of its slopes, and extend formiles beyond.

As Madame Pfeiffer had never seen a Dayak village, we thought she wouldlike to visit these rather primitive people, who reside about elevenhundred feet up the sides of the mountain. Sirambau is separated fromthe surrounding ranges, and from the sea appears of great length, whilefrom one view near Siniawan, it is a single peak seventeen hundred feetin height. At a few spots, we saw groves of cocoa-nuts varying thecolour of the jungle, and these were at the villages of the Dayaks, allmore than a thousand feet above us.

In the morning we collected a band of mountaineers to shoulder ourbaggage, and proceeded towards the[154] hill. The soil around had latelybeen cleared, and afforded no shelter from the burning sun. I imagineMadame Pfeiffer, in all her travels, had never met worse paths,particularly when we commenced ascending the hill. It appeared exactlyas if the Dayaks had chosen the bed of a mountain torrent as the properapproach to their houses. At first the stones were arranged as a roughpaving, then as rougher steps, and at last it became so steep, rockpiled on rock, that notched trunks of trees leaning against them werethe only means of ascending.

But, if the climbing were difficult, we were partly compensated bythe shade of the lofty fruit-trees growing in glorious confusion oneither side of our path. Crowded as closely as in the jungle, durians,mangustins, and every variety of fruit-tree, jostled each other forthe light, and spoilt the symmetry of their forms. I have not seenelsewhere durian-trees of proportions so magnificent, some above tenfeet in circumference, and rising to the height of a hundred and twentyfeet. When the season is good, it is dangerous to walk in a grove ofthese trees, as a breeze gently shaking the ripe fruit from its hold,it falls heavily to the ground. They are often a foot in length, andeight inches in diameter, and many a story was told us of Dayaks beingbrought home insensible through a blow from a falling durian.

As we advanced up the side of the mountain, we rested at spots wherewe could obtain partial views of the surrounding country; large Dayakclearings now completely brown, varied the otherwise continuous jungle;gently swelling hills encircled the base of Sirambau, and stretchedonwards to the foot of the[155] steep and distant mountains. The Dayakshave led rills of water to the edge of the path, at which they refreshthemselves, and occasionally there are rough benches on which they resttheir heavy loads, for they carry up their whole rice crop to theirmountain villages.

After a toilsome ascent, which Madame Pfeiffer feelingly describes, wepassed the village of Bombok on our left, and continued our course tothat of Sirambau, a little distance farther. Here the path was morelevel, though it lay among huge rocks detached from the summit of themountain.

Sirambau is one of the most curious villages I have seen; it is large,and the long houses are connected together by platforms of bamboo or byrough bridges—a very necessary precaution, as the numerous pigs hadrouted up the land; and as every description of dirt is thrown fromtheir houses and never removed, it is almost impossible to walk on theground. Thick groves of palms surrounded the village and buried it fromthe world: indeed, it looked as isolated a spot as any in wooded Borneo.

We found the chief Mita ready to receive us, and to conduct us to hisapartments; they were very confined, but on the raised platform underthe sloping windows we found place for our beds. They very politelygave Madame Pfeiffer an inner room, and provided her with neat whitemats.

In the evening the apartments were crowded, and being small, notmuch space was left for dancing. This village house was altogetheruncomfortable; its verandah was not five feet wide, and was totallyunfitted for their feasts; the rooms were not twelve[156] feet by sixteen,and the space was still further lessened by a large fireplace thatoccupied an eighth of the area. Some rough planks were laid on thefloor and then covered with earth; on it were arranged a few stones,and that constituted the fireplace. At each corner was a small postthat supported a platform, and on this was a heap of firewood kept hereto dry and to be ready at hand.

We have had much more intercourse with the villagers on this hill,than with any other, as Sir James Brooke had a country house near theuppermost groves of palms that are seen from Siniawan. Formerly it wasa Dayak village, but the inhabitants removing to join another sectionof their tribe who were in a more sheltered spot, Sir James purchasedthe fruit-trees around, and built a pretty cottage there.

Peninjau, or the “look-out,” was the name of this spot, and it welldeserved its name, as from a rock which terminated the level summitof a buttress can be seen a view unsurpassed in extent. I have spentmany months at this cottage, and rarely an evening passed without mywitnessing the sunset from this favourite rock.

The peak of Santubong is the centre of the picture, and the undulatingground between and the winding of the river may be seen clearly in allits varied detail. The calm sea—from this distance it seems alwayscalm—bounds the horizon. Two effects of light I have often witnessedhere; just at sunset, the rays thrown on the hills, the woods, thewater, have a sickly tint; and when rain threatens, the trees in thejungle on the distant hills of Matang stand out distinctly visible, andit is only at such times they do so.

There are three villages on this Sirambau hill—the Peninjau, nowvisible below my favourite rock, Bombok, and Sirambau, where we haveleft Madame Pfeiffer.

Each of these villages contains a head-house; in that at Sirambauthere were thirty-three heads, at Bombok thirty-two, and at Peninjautwenty-one, with the skull of a bear killed during a head-huntingexpedition. They were all very ancient-looking, in fact none had beenadded to their store since Sir James Brooke assumed the governmentof the country. That they still have a longing for a fresh skull, Ihave little doubt, though previously to the Chinese insurrection theapparent impossibility had made them rather careless on the subject.

There is a custom in these tribes to assist the Orang Kaya in makinghis farms; in fact, it is one of the most lucrative of his perquisites.Mita of Sirambau had pushed his prerogative too far, and had forcedhis people to make him three farms, and as from this and many otherreasons, he had ruined his popularity, he looked about him for a meansto recover it. At last it struck him that a fresh head would make thewhole tribe look up to him with respect.

I was visiting the village one day, when he told me he had a greatfavour to ask, which was, that I would endeavour to obtain from SirJames Brooke permission for him to make a foray into the neighbouringdistricts. All the elders of the tribe were present, and it was evidentthat they were deeply interested in the answer. The earnest way inwhich they assured me that the crops had not been good for many years,[158]because the spirits were angry at the ancient rites having fallen intodisuse, showed that he had worked upon them to believe in the necessityof a head being procured, but my answer was so discouraging that theynever ventured to mention the subject to Sir James Brooke. Mita wasafterwards removed from his office, to the great satisfaction of thetribe.

Our cottage was just twelve hundred and thirty feet above the levelof the sea, and had a pure and cool atmosphere about it; but the mostremarkable spot near was a natural bath-house. In a ravine close byrose a huge rock, seventy feet in length by forty in breadth; somewhatof the shape of a mighty but very blunt wedge. The thicker end wasburied in the ground, the centre, supported on either side by tworocks, left a cave beneath, while the thinner part, thrust up at anangle of thirty degrees, overshadowed a natural basin, improved by art,at which we bathed. A rill that glided from under the rock supplied usplentifully with cool, clear water. It was a beautiful spot, a charmingnatural grotto, in which to pass the burning midday hours; twenty orthirty people could sit there with comfort, and admire the vegetationthat grew thickly around, but yet affording glimpses of distant hillsthrough the trees.

That spot for years was our boast; there was no bathing-place likePeninjau, no water so cool, no air so bracing. Once our grotto fell toa discount, and that was when some one unromantically brought from ourbasin a huge leech, fifteen inches long; but that was the only intruderthat ever invaded the sacred spot. I may say that we never enter thebasin when we bathe in these places, or at our houses, but pour[159] smallbuckets of water on our heads, and let it run over our bodies; it isthe most refreshing plan. But up country, in the cool mountain streams,we always take a plunge into the water.

At night, looking south, the prospect appeared quite lively withfires and flashing lights; these came from the villages of Chinesegold-workers occupying the valleys below. They extended irregularlyfor about ten miles until they reached their chief town of Bau,romantically situated among limestone hills, presenting perpendicularsides.

To the eastward was one of the noblest valleys in Sarawak, perfectlyuninhabited. At the nearer end the Sirambau Dayaks occasionally had afarm, but thousands of acres, untrodden by man, lay there uncultivated.

To the left of Sirambau are some very fine Tapang trees, in which thebees generally build their nests; they are considered private property,and a Dayak from a neighbouring tribe venturing to help himself of thisapparently wild honey and wax, would be punished for theft. This tribe,also, is rich in edible birds’-nests, while the Peninjaus are becomingwealthy from the great extent of their fruit-groves. In former times,the Malays used to gather them without thinking of asking permission,but now the government has forbidden this practice, and the amountrealized by the Dayaks is, for Borneo, something surprising. One goodfruit season, a hundred and fifty families realized two pounds sterlingeach, enough to buy rice to last them six months.

I have said I am more familiar with the manners and customs of theseDayaks than with those of any[160] others, and having had the advantage ofreceiving full and careful replies to a list of queries I addressedto all those I thought likely to be able to give me assistance,particularly from the Rev. Mr. Chalmers, the able missionary whoformerly resided there, and whose departure from Borneo all sincerelyregret, I will enter an account of the ways of the Land Dayaks,noticing in what manner they vary from those of the surrounding tribes.Though I am greatly indebted to Mr. Chalmers’s notes, I by no meansbind him to the opinions expressed, as we differ on some points,particularly regarding the belief in the Supreme Being.

Births.—After pregnancy is declared a ceremony takes place.[3]Two priestesses[4] attend, a fowl is killed, rice provided, and fortwo nights they howl and chant, during which time the apartment is“pamali,” or interdicted. The husband of the pregnant woman, untilthe time of her delivery, may not do work with any sharp instrument,except what may be absolutely necessary for the cultivation of hisfarm; he may not tie things together with rattans, or strike animals,or fire guns, or do anything of a violent character—all such thingsbeing imagined to exercise a malign influence on the formation anddevelopment of the unborn child. The delivery is attended by an oldwoman, called a “Penyading,” or midwife. A fowl is killed, the familytabooed for eight days, during which time the unfortunate husband isdieted on rice[161] and salt, and may not go out in the sun, or even bathefor four days; the rice and salt diet is to prevent the baby’sstomach swelling to an unnatural size.

Courtship.—Besides the ordinary attention which a young manis able to pay to the girl he desires to make his wife—as helpingher in her farm work, and in carrying home her load of vegetables orwood, as well as in making her little presents, as a ring, or somebrass chain work with which the women adorn their waists, or evena petticoat—there is a very peculiar testimony of regard, whichis worthy of note. About nine or ten at night, when the family issupposed to be fast asleep within the musquito curtains in the privateapartment, the lover quietly slips back the bolt by which the dooris fastened on the inside and enters the room on tiptoe. He goes tothe curtains of his beloved, gently awakes her, and she on hearingwho it is rises at once, and they sit conversing together, and makingarrangements for the future in the dark over a plentiful supply ofsirih-leaf and betel-nut, which it is the gentleman’s duty to provide.If when awoke the young lady rises and accepts the prepared betel-nut,happy is the lover, for his suit is in a fair way to prosper, but ifon the other hand she rises and says, “Be good enough to blow up thefire,” or to light the lamp (a bamboo filled with resin), then hishopes are at an end, as that is the usual form of dismissal. Of courseif this kind of nocturnal visit is frequently repeated, the parentsdo not fail to discover it, although it is a point of honour amongthem to take no notice of their visitor, and if they approve of him[162]matters take their course, but if not, they use their influence withtheir daughter to ensure the utterance of the fatal “please blow up thefire.” It is said on good authority that these nocturnal visits butseldom result in immorality.

Betrothment.—There is no ceremony at a betrothment, thebridegroom expectant (if a young bachelor) generally presents hisbetrothed with a set of three small boxes[5] made of bamboo, in whichare placed the tobacco, gambir, and lime, with the sirih-leaf andbetel-nut, and sometimes also with a cheap ring or two purchased fromthe Malays, or in the Sarawak bazaar.

Marriage.—At a marriage, a fowl is killed, rice boiled, and afeast made by the relations of the bride and bridegroom. The bridegroomthen generally betakes himself to the apartment of his wife’s parentsor relations, and becomes one of the family. Occasionally, as forexample when the bride has many brothers and sisters, or when thebridegroom is the support of aged parents, or of younger brothersand sisters, the bride enters and becomes one of the family of herhusband. It is a rare occurrence for a young couple at once to commencehousekeeping on their own account; the reason is, that the labours ofa young man go to augment the store of the head of the family in whichhe lives, be it that of his parents or others, and not till theirdeath can he claim any share of the property in rice, jars, crockery,or gongs, which by his industry he has helped to create; yet mostyoung men now have generally a small hoard of copper coin, or even afew dollars, which they have[163] acquired by trading, or by working forEuropeans, Malays, or Chinese during the intervals of farm labour.

Burial.—When a Dayak dies the whole village is tabooed for aday; within a few hours of death the body is rolled up in the sleepingmat of the deceased, and carried by the “Peninu,” or sexton of thevillage, to the place of burial or burning.[6] The body is accompaniedfor a little distance from the village by the women, uttering a loudand melancholy lament. In the Peninjau tribe the women follow thecorpse a short way down the path below the village to the spot whereit divides, one branch leading to the burning ground, the other to theChinese town of Siniawan. Here they mount upon a broad stone, and weepand utter doleful cries, till the sexton and his melancholy burdenhave disappeared from view. Curiously enough, the top of this stone ishollowed; and the Dayaks declare that this has been occasioned by thetears of their women, which during many ages have fallen so abundantly,and so often, as to wear away the stone by their continual dropping.

In Western Sarawak the custom of burning the dead is universal, in thedistricts near the Samarahan, they are indifferently burnt or buried,and when the Sadong is reached the custom of cremation ceases, theDayaks of the last river being in the habit of burying their dead. Inthe grave a cocoa-nut, and areca-nut are thrown, and a small basket ofrice, and that one containing the chewing condiments of the deceasedare hung up near the grave, and if he were a noted warrior, a spear isstuck in the ground close[164] by. The above articles of food are for thesustenance of the soul in his passage to the other world.

The graves are very shallow, and not unfrequently the corpse is rootedup and devoured by wild pigs. The burning also is not unfrequentlyvery inefficiently performed, and portions of the bones and fleshof a deceased person have been brought back by the dogs and pigs ofthe village to the space below the very houses of the relatives. Intimes of epidemic disease, and when the deceased is very poor, or therelatives do not feel inclined to be at much expense for the sexton’sservices, corpses are not unfrequently thrown into some solitary pieceof jungle not far from the village, and there left. The Dayaks havevery little respect for the bodies of the departed, though they have anintense fear of their ghosts.

The office of sexton is hereditary, descending from father to son,and when the line fails, great indeed is the difficulty of inducinganother family to undertake its unpleasant duties, involving, as itis supposed, too familiar an association with the dead and the otherworld to be at all beneficial. Though the prospect of fees is good, andperhaps every family in the village offers six gallons of unpoundedrice to start the sexton elect in his new, and certainly useful career,among the Quop Dayaks it is difficult to find a candidate. The usualburial fee is one jar, valued at a rupee, though if great care bebestowed on the interment, a dollar is asked; at other places as muchas two dollars are occasionally demanded, and obtained when the corpseis offensive.

On the day of a person’s death, a feast[7] is given by[165] the familyto their relations; if the deceased be rich, a pig and a fowl arekilled, but if poor, a fowl is considered sufficient. The apartment,and the family in which the death occurs, are tabooed for seven daysand nights, and if the interdict be not rigidly kept, the ghost of thedeparted will haunt the house. Among the Silakau, the Lara, and thetrue Lundu tribes, the bodies of the elders and rich are burned, whilethe others are buried.

Children.—All children are very desirable in Dayak eyes. Mr.Chalmers thinks that if a Dayak could have but one child, he wouldprefer a female, as she will always assist in getting wood and water(labours held in little esteem by those males who have arrived at theage of puberty); and, moreover, at marriage a son may have to followhis wife, whereas a daughter obtains for her parents the benefit of herhusband’s labour and assistance; but my opinion is contrary, I thinkmale children are generally desired.

Female Chastity.—With regard to female chastity, I imagine theyare better, certainly not worse, than the Malays. The “Orang Kayas”have many cases of adultery to settle, which do not, however, causemuch excitement in the tribe.

Divorces are very common, one can scarcely meet with amiddle-aged Dayak who has not had two, and often three or more wives.I have heard of a girl of seventeen or eighteen years who had alreadyhad three husbands. Repudiation, which is generally done by the man orwoman running away to the house of a near relation, takes place for theslightest cause—personal dislike or disappointments, a sudden quarrel,bad dreams, discontent with their partners’ powers of[166] labour or theirindustry, or in fact, any excuse which will help to give force to theexpression, “I do not want to live with him or her any longer.”

A woman has deserted her husband when laid up with a bad foot, andconsequently unable to work, and returned to him when recovered,but this is perhaps to obtain her food on easier terms. A lad onceforced his mother to divorce her husband, the lad’s stepfather,because the latter tried to get too much work out of his stepson, andlet his own children by a former marriage remain idle. The stepsondid not understand why he should contribute to the support of hishalf-brothers, so he told his mother she must leave her husband, orhe would leave her, and live with his late father’s relatives. Shepreferred her son’s society to her husband’s.

In fact, marriage among the Dayaks is a business of partnership forthe purpose of having children, dividing labour, and by means of theiroffspring providing for their old age. It is, therefore, entered intoand dissolved almost at pleasure. If a husband divorces his wife,except for the sake of adultery, he has to pay her a fine of two smalljars, or about two rupees. If a woman puts away her husband, she payshim a jar, or one rupee. If a wife commits adultery the husband canput her away if he please; though if she be a strong, useful woman, hesometimes does not do so, and her lover pays him a fine of one “tajau,”a large jar equal to twelve small jars, valued at twelve rupees. If aseparation take place, the guilty wife also gives her husband abouttwo rupees. If a husband commit adultery, the wife can divorce[167] him,and fine his paramour eight rupees, but she gets nothing from herunfaithful spouse. There is one cause of divorce, where the blame restson neither party, but on their superstitions. When a couple are newlymarried, if a deer, or gazelle, or a mouse deer utter a cry at nightnear the house in which the pair are living, it is an omen of ill—theymust separate, or the death of one would ensue. This might be a greattrial to a European lover; the Dayaks, however, take the matter veryphilosophically.

Mr. Chalmers mentions to me the case of a young Peninjau man who wasdivorced from his wife on the third day after marriage. The previousnight a deer had uttered its warning cry, and separate they must. Themorning of the divorce he chanced to go into the “head-house,” andthere sat the bridegroom contentedly at work.

“Why are you here?” he was asked, as the “head-house” is frequented bybachelors and boys only; “what news of your new wife?”

“I have no wife, we were separated this morning, because the deer criedlast night.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Very sorry.”

“What are you doing with that brass wire?”

“Making perik”—the brass chain-work which the women wear round theirwaists—“for a young woman whom I want to get for my new wife.”

Religion—Belief in Supreme Being—Traces ofHinduism—Sacrifices—Pamali or Interdict—Mr. Chalmers’sAccount of the Dayak Religion—A Future State—Spirits byNature—Ghosts of Departed Men—Transformations—Catching theSoul—Conversion of the Priest to Christianity—Story—OtherGhosts—Custom of Pamali, or Taboo—Sacrifices—Things andActions Interdicted—Not to Eat Horned Animals—Reasonsfor not Eating Venison—Of Snakes—The LivingPrinciple—Causes of Sickness—Spirits Blinding the Eyesof Men—Incantations to Propitiate or Foil the Spiritsof Evil—Catching the Soul—Feasts and Incantationsconnected with Farming Operations—The Blessing of theSeed—The Feast of First Fruits—Securing the Soul of theRice—Exciting Night Scene—The Harvest Home—SingularCeremony—Head Feasts—Offering the Drinking Cup—MinorCeremonies—Images—Dreams—Love—Journeys of the Soul—Warningsin Sleep—Magic Stones—Anecdote—Ordeals—Omens—Birds ofOmen—Method of Consulting them—Beneficial Effects of the HeadFeasts—Languages of the Land Dayaks—Deer—The Sibuyaus freefrom Prejudice—Story of the Cobra De Capella—Names—Changeof Name—Prohibited Degrees of Affinity—Heights—MedicalKnowledge—Priests and Priestesses—Origin of the latter—TheirPractices—Manufactures—Agriculture—Story of the Origin ofRice—The Pleiades.

Religion.—This principally consists of a number ofsuperstitious observances. They are given up to the fear of ghosts;and in the propitiation of these by small offerings and certainceremonies consists the principal part of their worship. But thoughthis is the case, I am quite convinced that they have a firm, thoughnot clear belief in the existence of one[169] Supreme Being, who is aboveall, and over all; and in this lies the best hope of the missionary.If we could trace back the origin of their superstitions, we shouldprobably find that many of their inferior spirits are simply heroes ofold who have assumed the form of demigods; in fact, all my inquiriesamong the wild tribes confirm me in the opinion that they believe in aSupreme Being. I have mentioned in my Limbang Journal old Japersaying,—“When I speak of the God of the Pakatan tribe, I mean Himwho made the heavens, the earth, and man.” I have always thought thatthe three inferior spirits mentioned by Mr. Chalmers in the extractI will give, Tenabi, Iang, and Jirong are merely agents of Tapa, andoccasionally their subordinate position is overlooked by the Dayaknarrators. It reminds one of the three powers in the Hindu religion,“Brahma,” “Vishnu,” and “Siva,” issuing from the Godhead Bram—and, inthe Dayak religion, “Tenabi,” the maker of the material world; Iang,the Instructor, and Jirong, the Renovator and Destroyer, emanating fromthe Godhead Tapa, the great Creator and Preserver. Before proceeding,I will give the substance of Mr. Chalmers’s account of the religion ofthe Land Dayaks; I may also premise by saying, that the Sarawak LandDayaks call their God “Tapa,” the Silakaus and Laras “Jewata,” and theSibuyaus, “Batara.”

In common with many other barbarous tribes, their religious systemrelates principally to this life. They are like the rest of mankind,continually liable to physical evils, poverty, misfortune, sickness,and these they try to avert from themselves by the practice of[170] ancientcustoms which are supposed to be effectual for the purpose. This systemmay be classed as follows:—

The killing of pigs and fowls, the flesh of which is eaten, smallportions being set aside with rice for the spiritual powers; and fromthe blood mixed with spittle, turmeric, and cocoa-nut water, a filthymess is concocted, and called physic, with which the people attendingthe feast are anointed on the head and face. Dancing by the eldersand the priestesses about a kind of bamboo altar, erected on theseoccasions either in the long room or on the exterior platform of one ofthe houses, round which the offerings are placed, always accompanied bythe beating of all the gongs and drums of the tribe by the young lads,and singing, or rather chanting, by the priestesses. The “pamali,” ortaboo of an apartment, house, or village for one, two, four, eight, andeven sixteen days, during which in the case of a village, no strangercan enter it, in the case of a house, no one beside the familiesresiding therein, and in the case of an apartment no one out of thefamily.

It cannot be denied that they have some belief in the Supreme God whois called “Tapa,” the Creator or Maker, though their idea of Him asa moral governor is very hazy and confused. They possess also someglimmerings of a future existence, though scarcely any idea of a futurestate of rewards and punishments. The following are a few particularsof the Dayak theology.

There are four chief spirits: “Tapa,” who created men and women, andpreserves them in life; “Tenabi,” who made the earth, and, except thehuman race, all things therein, and still causes it to[171] flourish;“Iang,” or “Iing,” who first instructed the Dayaks in the mysteries oftheir religion, and who superintends its performance; “Jirong,” wholooks after the propagation of the human species, and also causes themto die of sickness or accident. “Iang” is frequently associated with“Tapa,” and “Tapa Iang” often stands for the Supreme Being.

An intelligent man of the tribe Setang, gave another account. He saysthat “Tapa” and “Tenabi” are but different names for the same GreatBeing, and that with Him is associated “Jirong,” the Lord of birth anddeath. That when Tapa made the world, he first created “Iang,” then thespirits “Triu” and “Komang,” and then man. That man and the spiritswere at first equal, and fought on fair terms, but that on one wofuloccasion, the spirits got the better of man, and rubbed charcoal in hiseyes, which made him no longer able to see his spirit foes, except inthe case of certain gifted persons, as the priest, and so placed him attheir mercy.

With respect to a future state, the common Dayak story is that when aman dies, he becomes a spirit, and lives in the jungle, or (this Mr.Chalmers heard in one of the dead body burning tribes) that as thesmoke of the funeral pile of a good man rises, the soul ascends with itto the sky, and that the smoke from the pile of a wicked man descends,and his soul with it is borne down to the earth, and through it tothe regions below. Another version is, that when a man dies a naturaldeath, his soul on leaving the body becomes a spirit, and haunts theplace of burial or burning. When a spirit dies, for spirits too, itwould seem, are subject unto death, it enters the hole of[172] Hades,and coming out thence again becomes a Bejawi. In course of time the“Bejawi” dies, and lives once more as a “Begutur;” but when a “Begutur”dies, the spiritual essence of which it consists, enters the trunks oftrees, and may be seen there damp and blood-like in appearance, and hasa personal and sentient existence no longer.

I have introduced this account, and it is curious to trace in it asimilarity to the Budhist religion professed in Siam. There, theybelieve that after passing through many and various transmigrations,they will, as the last and best existence, sink into “neiban” and belost to all sense, and fade away without retaining personality anylonger.

With regard to a future state, the Dayaks point to the highest mountainin sight as the abode of their departed friends.

The spirits are divided into two classes, “Umot,” spirits by nature,and “Mino,” as I understood it to be, ghosts of departed men.

Umot.—The “Trui” and “Komang” live amid the noble old forest on thetops of lofty hills. They delight in war and bloodshed, and always comedown to be present at the Dayak “head feasts.” They are described asof a fierce and wild appearance, being covered with coarse red hairlike an orang-utan. By some the “Komang” are said to be the spiritsof departed heroes, associated after death for their valour with thewar-loving “Trui.” “Umot Sisi” is a harmless kind of spirit whichfollows the Dayak, to look for the fragments of food which have fallenthrough the open flooring of their houses, and who is heard at nightmunching[173] away below. “Umot Perubak” cause scarcity among the Dayaks,by coming invisibly and eating the rice from the pot at mealtime; theirappetite is insatiable. “Umot Perusong” and “Tibong” come slily anddevour the rice which is stored within a receptacle made of the barkof some gigantic tree, and is in the form of a vat. It is kept in thegarrets of the houses, and a large one will contain a hundred and fiftybushels, and the family live in constant fear that these voraciousspirits will visit their store and entirely consume it.

“Mino Buau” are the ghosts of those who have been killed in war.These are very vicious and inimical to the living;—they dwell in thejungle, and have the power of assuming the form of beasts or headlessmen. A Quop Dayak declared he met with one. He was walking through thejungle, and saw what he thought was a squirrel sitting on the largeroots of a tree which overhung a small stream. He had a spear in hishand, this he threw at the squirrel, and thought he had struck it; heran towards the spot at which it had apparently fallen, when to hishorror it faced him, rose up, and was transformed into a dog. The dogwalked on a few paces, and then turning into a human shape, sat slowlydown on the trunk of a fallen tree—head there was none. The spectrebody was parti-coloured, and at the top drawn up to a point. The Dayakwas smitten with a great fear, and away he rushed home and fell intoa violent fever; the priest was called, and he pronounced that thepatient’s soul had been summoned away from its corporeal abiding placeby the spirit; so he went to seek it, armed with his magic charms.[174]Midway between the village and place where the “Buau” had appeared,the fugitive soul was overtaken and induced to pause, and having beencaptured by the priest, was brought back to its body, and poked intoits place through an invisible hole in the head: the next day the feverwas gone.

This shows how the priests practise on the ignorance and superstitionof the people. Mr. Gomez, aware of it, used his utmost efforts toconvert the principal “Manang” or priest of the Lundu branch of the“Sibuyaus,” and succeeded; since then there have been many baptized.This, however, is not the principal effect; he has enlisted the learnedman on his side instead of against him, and I have little doubt of hisultimately winning over the whole tribe of that section of Sea Dayaks.

Some accuse the Buau of being occasionally guilty of running off withwomen. In former times, a wife named Temunyan was, in her husband’sabsence, carried off. On his return he searched for, and found thespirit, slew him by a trick and recovered his wife; not, however, untilshe had suffered violation. She was pregnant by the Buau, and in duetime she brought forth a son—a horrible monster, which her enragedhusband chopped up into small pieces; and these immediately turned intoleeches, with which the jungles are to this day unpleasantly infested.

“Mino Pajabun.”—These are the ghosts of those who meet with anaccidental death. Their name seems to be derived from a Dayak wordmeaning “To long for,” because it is said they pass their time inuseless wailings over their hard fate.

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“Mino Kok Anak.”—The spirits of women who have died in childbed. Theydelight to mount high trees, and to startle belated Dayaks by horriblenoises as they are hurrying home in the twilight. There is also a ghostor spirit—whether “Mino” or “Umot,” I have not ascertained—known tothe “Peninjaus,” which lives amid the holes of the rocks on the hills;it is called “Sedying,” and on a rainy day may be heard in its caveshivering and bemoaning as if suffering from the ague.

I have already mentioned that the custom “pamali,” called by theLand Dayak “porikh,” obtains among all the tribes, and is constantlypractised. To propitiate the superior spirits, they shut themselvesup in their houses a certain number of days, and by that, among othermeans, hope to avert sickness, to cure a favourite child, or torestore their own health. They also have recourse to it when the cryof the gazelle is heard behind them, or when their omen birds utterunfavourable warnings. They likewise place themselves under thisinterdict at the planting of rice, at harvest home, and upon many otheroccasions. During this time, they appear to remain in their houses, inorder to eat, drink, and sleep; but their eating must be moderate, andoften consists of nothing but rice and salt. These interdicts are ofvery different durations and importance. Sometimes, as at the harvesthome, the whole tribe is compelled to observe it, and then no onemust leave the village; at other times it only extends to a family,or to a single individual. It is also considered important that nostranger should break the taboo by entering the village, the house,or the apartment, placed under interdict. If any one[176] should do sointentionally, he would subject himself to a fine.

The taboo lasts from one to sixteen days, according to the importanceattached to the event. The animals used in the sacrifice are fowls andpigs, and I hear also that even dogs in certain tribes are occasionallyemployed. The fowls and pigs are eaten, but the dogs not, the bloodonly being required in their incantations. When a fowl is killed ataboo may last one, two, or four days; when a pig—and then it isusually a very important occasion—the ceremony may last four, eight,or sixteen days.

People under interdict may not bathe, touch fire, or employ themselvesabout their ordinary occupations. In conversation you continuallyhear even the Malays say, “It is pamali,” or interdicted by theirsuperstitions, but if contrary to their religion they say “haram.”

I will notice a few things which the Dayaks consider must not be doneby them; for instance, most are not allowed to eat the flesh of hornedanimals, as cattle and goats, and many tribes extend the prohibition tothe wild deer. In their refusal to touch the flesh of cows and bullsthey add another illustration of the theory that their religion isindirectly derived from the Hindu, or if not actually derived, greatlyinfluenced by their intercourse with its disciples. They say that someof their ancestors, in the transmigration of souls, were formerlymetamorphosed into these animals; and they slily, or innocently add,that the reason why the Mahomedan Malays will not touch pork is, thatthey are afraid to eat their forefathers, who were changed into theunclean animal.[177] It has often struck me that the origin of many oftheir superstitions arose from the greediness of the elders; as in someof the tribes they, together with the women and children, but not thesturdy young men, may eat eggs. In other instances the very old menand the women may eat of the flesh of the deer, while the young menand warriors of the tribe are debarred from venison for fear it shouldrender them as timid as the graceful hind.

The taboo which prevents certain families from consuming the fleshof snakes and other kinds of reptiles, most probably arose from someincident in the life of one of their ancestors, in which the rejectedbeast played a prominent part. It is religiously forbidden to all thoseintending to engage in a pig-hunt from meddling with oil before thechase, for fear the game should thus slip through their fingers. I mayadd, if a certain kind of bird flies through a house the inhabitantsdesert it; as they likewise do if a drop of blood be seen sprinkled onthe floor, unless they can prove whence it came.

In addition to the incantations (Beruri) which accompany every feast(Gawei), there are special ones on occasions of sickness both in menand rice. The Dayak idea of life is this, that in mankind, animals, andrice there is a living principle called “semungat” or “semungi;” thatsickness is caused by the temporary absence, and death by the totaldeparture of this principle from the body. Hence the object of theirceremonies is to bring back the departed souls; and some of the feastsare held to secure the soul of the rice, which, if not so detained,[178]the produce of their farms would speedily rot and decay. At sowingtime, a little of the principle of life of the rice, which at everyharvest is secured by their priests, is planted with their other seeds,and is thus propagated and communicated.

Sickness among mankind is occasionally caused by spirits inflicting onpeople invisible wounds with invisible spears; indeed, they themselvessometimes enter men’s bodies and drive out the soul. As a rule, to beill is to have been smitten by a spirit,[8] for it is these implacablefoes of mankind who under all circ*mstances entice forth and endeavourto carry away the souls of men. If any one in his wanderings throughthe jungle is wounded or killed by the spring traps[9] set near thefarms to destroy pigs who may attempt to break through into the fields,it is because the spirit of the trap has caused darkness to passover his eyes, so that he should not see the regular warning mark,consisting of two bamboos crossed, which tells of the neighbourhood ofdanger.

To return, however, to the incantations by which the inimical spiritsare propitiated or foiled in their machinations. They are three:“Nyibaiyan,” or the ceremony for restoring health. At this only onefowl is killed; two priestesses are the actors, and they spend theirtime chanting monotonously; the taboo lasts two nights. The invalidand the person who prepares the magic ointment (a near relative of thepatient) are the only persons subject to its restraints.

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“Berobat Pinya” is also for sickness. At this one priest and four orfive priestesses attend, the interdict lasts four days, and one pig andone fowl are killed. Outside the door of the family apartment in whichthe incantation is held are gathered together, in a winnowing basket,an offering of fowls, yams, and pork, fowl and pig’s blood in a cup,boiled rice and sirih-leaf, and areca-nut: these are for the variousspirits. On the first day of the incantation two priestesses pretendto fight with each other with drawn swords, which they wave and slashabout in so furious a manner, as at once to put to flight the tremblingghost. After this display of valour, chanting begins, accompanied bythe music of a small gong and a drum, the latter beaten by the priest;this continues for a day and night. Towards midnight he proceeds to getthe soul of the patient. Carefully wrapping up a small cup in a whitecloth, he places it amidst the offerings before mentioned, then, witha torch in one hand and a circlet of beads and tinkling hawk bells inthe other, he stalks about shaking his charms. After a little time heorders one of the admiring spectators to look in the cup previouslywrapped up in white cloth, and sure enough there the soul always is,in the form of a bunch of hair to vulgar eyes, but to the initiated inshape and appearance like a miniature human being. This is supposed tobe thrust into a hole in the top of the patient’s head, invisible toall but the learned man. He has thus recovered the man’s soul, or, asit may be called, the principle of life that was departing from him.

The Land Dayaks of Sarawak say they have only[180] one soul; the “Sibuyaus”talk of several; but their souls, as shown by the priest to the friendsof the patient, bear a suspicious resemblance to the seeds of thecotton plant.

“Berobat Sisab” has a similar aim to the above. At this, one priest,but no priestess, is present. The priest first makes a bamboo altar[10]in the common verandah outside the door of the patient’s room, roundwhich are placed offerings, and a pig and a fowl are killed. Theinterdict lasts for eight days. For two there is beating of gongsand drums, and dancing by the man who makes the charm, usually somerelation of the sick person. On the first night the soul is recovered,and the patient washed in the milk of the cocoa-nut. I have oftenbeen present when these ceremonies were going on; it is astonishingthat any patient should recover, stunned as he must be by the beatingand clanging of these ear-splitting instruments close to him. It haseffectually prevented my closing my eyes; and the melancholy wail ofthe priestesses is sufficient, one would imagine, to drive hope itselffrom the bedside of the sufferer.

The feasts and incantations connected with farming operations are asfollows:—First, in the midst of cutting down the jungle; second, whenit is set on fire. These are small affairs, the interdict lasting butone day, and only a fowl being killed. They are called “Mekapau,” onlyone gong and one drum are beaten; and also “nyirañgan,” because abamboo altar is built by the roadside, and upon it a small offering ofrice and blood is placed for the spirit. The second feast[181] is to driveaway all evil influences from the earth, when ready for the seed.

The third feast[11] is the blessing of the seed before planting. It isbrought out, and the priestesses wave over it their flat brush-likewands, which consist of the undeveloped fruit of the areca palm,stripped of its sheath, and is in itself one of the prettiest objectsin the world, and in its natural bursting spreads around the parentstem a delicious perfume that scents a whole grove. They thus expel allmalign influences; the interdict lasts two nights, one fowl is killed,and there is music and dancing.

During the growth of the rice, if the rats be making havoc among it,or the pale green leaf appear blighted, there are similar ceremoniesto awe the vermin, and charm back the colour to the plant. But theharvest feasts are the great days; there are three:—The feast of firstfruits,[12] when the priestesses, accompanied by a gong and a drum, goin procession to the farms and gather several bunches of the ripe padi.These are brought back to the village, washed in cocoa-nut water, andlaid round a bamboo altar, which at the harvest feasts is erected inthe common room of the largest house, and decorated with white clothand red streamers, so as to present a very gay appearance, and ishung around with the sweet-smelling blossom of the areca palm. Thisfeast and interdict last two days; only fowls are killed; dancing andgong-beating go on night and day; and when it is over, the Dayaks mayset themselves to repair their bamboo platforms outside the houses, onwhich the rice is trodden out from the[182] ear, and then dried in the sun.They may now also gather in their crops.

The second feast[13] is a more important affair: it is held about themiddle of harvest, and lasts four days; fowls and a pig are killed,and dancing and beating of gongs go on almost continually. The firstpart of this feast is celebrated, not in the village, but in a shed atsome distance from it, frequently built by the roadside, and sometimeson the very summits of the hills on which the villages are situated.Although strangers are forbidden to approach the place during theseceremonies, yet at Sirambau I have often been invited to be presentduring this and the other feasts. They choose a lovely spot for theerection of their shed, which is tastefully decorated with green boughsand climbing plants, and situated under the loftiest fruit-trees I haveever seen; and here as in other villages, around the spot where theshed was erected were planted yellow bamboos, and their golden taperingstems and graceful feathery tufts are a charming and pleasing contrastto the rude leaf walls and roof of the neighbouring building.

At this, and at the third and last harvest feast, the soul of the riceis secured. The way of obtaining it varies in different tribes. In theQuop district it is done by the chief-priest alone; first, in the longand broad verandah where the altar is erected, and afterwards in eachseparate family apartment. Sometimes it is performed by day, sometimesby night; and the process is this: the priest, fixing his eyes on someobject visible only to him, takes in one hand his bundle of charms andin the other a second composed of pigs’[183] and bears’ and dogs’ tusksand teeth, and large opaque-coloured beads; a little gold dust is alsonecessary in this ceremony, during which he calls aloud for whitecloth; when it is brought and spread before him, he waves his charmstowards the invisible object in the air, and then shakes it over thewhite cloth, into which there fall a few grains of rice, which Tapa, inreward for their offerings and invocations, sends down to them. Thisis the soul, and it is immediately wrapped up with great care and laidamong the offerings around the altar.

The gold dust and white cloth are generally furnished at theirearnest request by the government, as the Dayaks think it exercises abeneficial effect to receive it from white men. It used to be suppliedby the Malay rulers.

In some tribes it is a far more exciting spectacle, especially whendone at night. A large shed is erected outside the village, andlighted by huge fires inside and out, which cast a ruddy glow over thedense mass of palms surrounding the houses; while gongs and drums arecrashing around a high and spacious altar near the shed, where a numberof gaily-dressed men and women are dancing with slow and stately stepand solemn countenances, some bearing in their hands lighted tapers,some brass salvers on which are offerings of rice, and others closelycovered baskets, the contents of which are hidden from all but theinitiated. The corner-posts of the altar are lofty bamboos, whose leafysummits are yet green and rustic in the wind; and from one of thesehangs down a long, narrow streamer of white cloth. Suddenly elders andpriests rush to it, seize hold of its extremity, and amid[184] the crashingsound of drums and gongs and the yells of spectators, begin dancing andswaying themselves backwards and forwards, and to and fro. An eldersprings on the altar, and begins violently to shake the tall bamboos,uttering as he does so shouts of triumph, which are responded to bythe swaying bodies of those below; and amid all this excitement, smallstones, bunches of hair and grains of rice, fall at the feet of thedancers, and are carefully picked up by watchful attendants. The riceis the soul sought for, and the ceremony ends by several of the oldestpriestesses falling, or pretending to fall, to the earth senseless;where, till they recover, their heads are supported and their facesfanned by their younger sisters.

The third feast[14] is held after the end of the harvest, when theyear’s crop has been carefully stowed away. A pig and fowls are killed,for four days gong-beating and dancing are kept up, and the taboolasts for eight days. Sometimes no stranger may approach the villagefor sixteen days. At this period also the soul of the rice is likewisesecured, which is to ensure the non-rotting of the crop. At thisfeast there is a general physicking of the children. They are washedwith cocoa-nut water, and then laid down in a row in the common roomwhere the feast is held, and scarcely suffered to move about for fourdays. At this time also the elder priestesses physic their youngersisters, and children of a tender age are entered among the numberof this learned and accomplished body; partly because admission intoit is supposed to secure them against violent sickness. For each onewho is now to be initiated, a young cocoa-nut is obtained, and their[185]elder sisters cause those on whom they are to exercise their powerto lie down in a line along the room, and to cover themselves withlong sleeping sheets. The cocoa-nuts belonging to the patients arethen taken into the hands of the priestesses, and with them they runviolently about the long room, tossing them up and down and to andfro. In some villages they are rolled in soot and oil, and then kickedfuriously about from one priestess to the other. During this part ofthe process the room presents a curious scene. Here some six or sevengaily-dressed women are rushing frantically up and down, tossing intheir hands the heavy young cocoa-nuts; there a dozen old women aremoving to and fro on a rude swing suspended from the rafters, andhowling dolefully round the altar. A number of others are shriekingand dancing; while from the farther end of the room beyond the line ofprostrate patients resounds a clatter of gongs and drums, beaten asvigorously as twenty pair of young hands can apply themselves to thework.

One by one the old priestesses cease their wild running backwards andforwards, and each in succession presents herself before an elder ofthe tribe, who stands, chopper in hand, over a mortar, into the hollowof which each in turn places her cocoa-nut. With one blow the old mansplits the nut, and out gushes the water. If it simply fall into themortar, the prospect is good, but if it shoot up towards the roof, thenevil is the lot of the patient whose cocoa-nut it may be, for there issickness before her in the coming year. When a cocoa-nut is split, sheto whom it belongs is raised from her recumbent position and the wateris poured over her; she is then laid[186] down again and carefully wrappedup in her sheet. When all have been so treated a lighted taper is wavedover the prostrate, motionless patients, and a form of words chanted,and then the ceremony is concluded by the head priestess going roundand blowing into the face of each of the patients; after which they areallowed to chatter and amuse themselves, but are confined to the longroom, in company with the elders and such of the children as had beenpreviously subjected to the ceremony, until the close of the interdict.

Head Feasts.—These are held only after some new heads have beenadded to the ghastly trophies of the bachelor’s house; consequentlyamong the Dayaks of Sarawak there has not been a feast for many years,except those celebrated over the heads of the rebellious Chinese killedin 1857, who, confident in their fire-arms, attempted to capture thevillages on the mountain, their chief object being to burn down SirJames Brooke’s cottage. They offered to cease their attack if theDayaks would put fire to it themselves; but they refused, and defendedtheir steep paths by the aid of barricades. The Chinese were foiled anddriven back to the plain, and were pursued by the mountaineers, whoinflicted heavy loss upon them. Chinese heads, however, are esteemedof little value in comparison with those of their ancient enemies. Thehead feast is the great day of the young bachelors. The head-house andvillage are decorated with green boughs, and the heads to be feastedare brought out from their very airy position, being hung from one ofthe beams, where they rattle together at every breath of wind, andare put into a rice measure in some very prominent place. The[187] wholepopulation are robed in their best, the young men in red jackets,yellow and red head-dresses, and gay waist-cloths or trousers.

For four days and four nights an almost incessant beating of gongs anddrums is kept up, and dances are performed by the young men only. Thepriestesses are decked out in their usual style, but upon this occasiontheir occupation is gone. Strong drinks, made from rice or the fruit ofthe tampui-tree, and also from the gomuti palm, flow freely; shrieks,yells, laughter, and shoutings, are heard in all directions, and thewhole village seems given up to riot and dissipation. The interdictlasts eight days, two pigs are killed, and as many fowls as they canafford. An offering of food is made to the heads, and their spirits,being thus appeased, cease to entertain malice against, or to seek toinflict injury upon, those who have got possession of the skull whichformerly adorned the now forsaken body.

A curious custom prevails among the young men at this feast. They cut acocoa-nut shell into the form of a cup, and adorn it with red and blackdye. Into one side of it they fasten a rudely carved likeness of abird’s head, and into the other the representation of its tail. The cupis filled with arrack, and the possessor performs a short wild dancewith it in his hands, and then with a yell leaps before some chosencompanion, and presents it to him to drink. Thus the “loving cup” ispassed around among them, and it need not be said that the result is inmany cases partial, though seldom excessive, intoxication.

Before leaving the subject of feasts and incantations, I will mentionsome of their occasional ceremonies.[188] They perform some on accountof a bad dream, any threatening evil, or because of actual sickness;sometimes also by way of precaution, but this is only after harvestwhen they have nothing better to do. The theory of their ceremoniesappears to be this: that the offering of food made to the spiritsassuages their malice and secures their departure, these spirits beingconsidered the proximate cause of nearly all the evils to which theyare subjected.

The minor ceremonies are called “nyirañgan,” because a bamboo altar[15]is erected by the roadside, and a fowl killed near it, part of which,with rice and betel-nut, is offered upon it: the taboo is only fora day. If any one meets with an accidental death in the jungle, aceremony is gone through near the spot; at this a pig is occasionallykilled, but in all such cases the taboo lasts only one day. If duringfarming time a tree fall across the path, a ceremony is held, and allwhose farms are in that direction are tabooed. If during harvest thebasket into which the ears of rice are cut be upset, a fowl is killed,and the family to whom the basket belongs is tabooed. Again, when theGovernment rice-tax is paid, there is a ceremony. On this occasion ashed is erected just at the entrance to the village, and in additionto the offerings of food, it is hung with a number of split cocoa-nutshells, which the spirits are supposed to appropriate as gongs.

Images.—Although the Dayaks adhere with great strictness to thecommand not to make any graven image for purposes of worship, yet insome tribes they are in the habit of forming a rude figure of a naked[189]man and woman, which they place opposite to each other on the path tothe farms. On their heads are head-dresses of bark, by their sides isthe betel-nut basket, and in their hands a short wooden spear. Thesefigures are said to be inhabited each by a spirit who prevents inimicalinfluences from passing on to the farms, and likewise from the farmsto the village, and evil betide the profane wretch who lifts his handagainst them,—violent fever and sickness are sure to follow.

Among the tribes of Western Sarawak the priestesses have made for themrude figures of birds. At the great harvest feasts they are hung upin bunches of ten or twenty in the long common room, carefully veiledwith coloured handkerchiefs. They are supposed to become inhabited byspirits, and it is forbidden for any one to touch them, except thepriestesses.

Dreams.—The Dayaks regard dreams as actual occurrences. Theythink that in sleep the soul sometimes remains in the body, andsometimes leaves it and travels far away, and that both when in andout of the body it sees, and hears, and talks, and altogether has aprescience given it, which, when the body is in its natural state,it does not enjoy. Fainting fits, or a state of coma, are thought tobe caused by the departure or absence of the soul on some distantexpedition of its own. When any one dreams of a distant land, as weexiles often do, the Dayaks think that our souls have annihilatedspace, and paid a flying visit to Europe during the night. Elders andpriestesses often assert that in their dreams they have visited themansion of Tapa, and seen the Creator dwelling in a house like that ofa Malay, the interior[190] of which was adorned with guns and gongs andjars innumerable, Himself being clothed like a Dayak.

A dream of sickness to any member of a family always ensures aceremony; and no one presumes to enter the priesthood, or to learnthe art of a blacksmith, without being, or pretending to be, warnedin a dream that he should undertake to learn it. I have known a manwith only two children give his younger child to another who was norelation, because he dreamed that he must give it to him or the childwould die.

In dreams also “Tapa” and the spirits bestow gifts on men in the shapeof magic stones, which, being washed in cocoa-nut milk, the waterforms one of the ingredients in the mass of blood and turmeric whichis considered sacred, and is used to anoint the people at the harvestfeasts. They are ordinary black pebbles, and there is nothing in theirappearance to give an idea of their magic power and value. The onesin the Quop village were procured in a dream by the late “Orang KayaBai Malam,” in order to replace those lost in the civil wars whichdesolated the country before Sir James Brooke’s arrival. He dreamt thata spirit came unto him and gave him a number of these sacred stones;and lo! when he awoke, they were in his hand. In some villages theyare kept in a rude kind of wooden bowl covered and fastened down, thenfixed to the top of an iron-wood post in the middle of the outsideplatform. In others they are deposited in a small house built in thejungle, at some distance from the village, and all around it is sacred.I will relate an anecdote Mr. Chalmers told me:—

[191]

A Quop woman who had turned Malay was staying at her village when theclergyman was there; he had a number of coloured-glass marbles, andone of these this woman got hold of, and no doubt thought it verystrange and wonderful. Next morning, when she awoke, she called loudlyfor white cloth, declaring at the same time that the late Orang Kayahad appeared to her in the night and given her a sacred stone, at thesame time producing the marble, and expected, no doubt, a good pricefor it from the Dayaks. But they are wiser now than of yore, and wouldhave nothing to do with it; and the young fellows, hearing how she hadprocured the marble, teased her on the subject until her departure.

Ordeals.—One of the ordeals practised among them is thefollowing: When a quarrel takes place which the elders find itimpossible to settle, from conflicting evidence, the disputants aretaken to a deep pool in a neighbouring stream, and both standing up totheir necks in the water, at given signals plunge their heads below thesurface: the first that rises to take breath, loses the case. Among theLand Dayaks, these ceremonies are not often practised. Another is bylistening to the night-birds: if their cry be such as to be considereda favourable omen, the accused is declared not guilty; if a bad omen,he is pronounced guilty and must pay the fine demanded of him. Themost common ordeal, however, is this: two wax tapers of equal size andlength are prepared, they are lighted, and the owner of the one that isfirst extinguished, or burnt out, loses his case.

Omens.—If a man be going on a war expedition, and has a slipduring his first day’s journey, he must[192] return to his village,especially if by the accident blood be drawn, for then, should heproceed, he has no prospect but wounds or death. If the accidentoccur during a long expedition, he must return to his last night’sresting-place. In some tribes, if a deer cry near a party who aresetting out on a journey they will return. When going at night to thejungle, if the scream of a hawk, or an owl, or of a small kind of frogbe heard, it is a sign that sickness will follow if the design bepursued; and, again, if the screech of the two former be heard in frontof a party on the warpath, it is an evil sign, and they must return.Omens derived from the cry of birds are always sought previously tosetting out on a journey, and before fixing on a spot to build newhouses, or to prepare their farms.

The birds which give the omen for a journey are three, the “Kushah,”“Kariak,” and “Katupung.” The traveller goes to a spot near the villagewhere the feast sheds are usually erected, and sometimes a stage ofbambu is also made ready for the purpose. There he waits till he hearsthe ofttimes long-awaited cries. When the “Kushah” or “Katupung” areheard on the right or the left only, or in front, no success willattend the journey; but if their cry be heard on the left and thenanswered on the right, the traveller may start in peace. The “Kariak’s”omen, however, is more important still. If heard on the right hand, theomen is good; if on the left, some slight inconvenience may follow; ifbehind, sickness or death awaits him in the place to which he is bound.How common is the saying used, “I had a bad bird,” to excuse everybreach of engagement!

[193]

In house-building and farm-making all the birds of night are consulted.During the day, a place in the forest, which appears suitable, isfixed upon, and a small shed erected near. Some boiled rice, stainedyellow with turmeric, and other offerings, are prepared, and at nighta party takes them to the hut already built. This they enter, and anelder having invoked the spiritual powers, and cast the yellow ricein all directions, they await the omen. If a bird cry and twitter infront, and if it then fly past the hut towards the village, it is agood omen; but if the birds fly and alight near the hut, and there cryand twitter, evil and sickness await those who build or farm there, formany spirits have made that their dwelling-place.

The reason assigned for using these bird omens is that they are halfDayaks. Long ago, a spirit married a Dayak woman, and the result of theintercourse was the production of birds. These were tenderly cared forand cherished by the Dayaks, and, in return, from that time to this,they have ever warned their former protectors of impending evil, ifduly consulted according to the customs which have descended to thetribes from their ancestors.

Having thus given a brief account of Dayak ceremonies, and feastings,and omens, I may conclude with a remark, that, of all the feasts andceremonies, the most beneficial in its influence is the “Head Feast.”The object of them all is to make their rice grow well, to cause theforest to abound with wild animals, to enable their dogs and snaresto be successful in securing game, to have the streams swarm withfish, to give health and activity to the people themselves, and[194] toensure fertility to their women. All these blessings, the possessingand feasting of a fresh head are supposed to be the most efficientmeans of securing. The very ground itself is believed to be benefitedand rendered fertile, more fertile even than when the water in whichfragments of gold, presented by the Rajah, have been washed, has beensprinkled over it; this latter charm, especially when mixed with thewater which has been poured over the sacred stones, being, next to thepossession of a newly acquired head, the greatest and the most powerfulwhich the wisdom of the “men of old time” has devised for the benefitof their descendants. It may, therefore, be understood what importanceOrang Kaya Mita attached to his request that permission should be givento him to seek another victim, and what influence he would have gainedwith the tribe had they secured these blessings by his means.

Language.—The vocabularies printed in the Appendix will, asMr. Chalmers observes, show that there is a great affinity betwixt theDayaks of Sarawak, Sadong, and some Sambas tribes. This connectionis not so visible in the dialects of others, as, for instance, theSilakau tribe, who formerly lived on a stream of the same name betweenthe Sambas and Pontianak. In the dialects of the Sea Dayaks, there areperhaps a few words radically the same as their correspondents in LandDayak, but only a few which are not derived in common from Malay. Inthe dialect of the Dayaks of Banjermasin, I have also noticed words thesame in form and meaning, but they are not very frequent.

My own experience has led me to the conviction[195] that it is verydifficult to draw any safe conclusion from the vocabularies generallycollected, because the best are usually made through the medium of theMalay, and the worst by merely showing articles and guessing that theresponse is the name of the thing shown. I made a list of Bisaya wordson the Limbang, another among the Idaán at the foot of “Kina Balu.”I was certain of a great affinity between the languages, as men fromone tribe could freely converse with those of the other, though theirdwellings were a hundred and fifty miles apart; but on comparing thewritten vocabularies, I found a surprising difference. Just before Ileft Borneo, I spoke to a Bisaya on the subject: he said, “Repeat me afew words of the Idaán that are different.” I did so. He answered, “Iunderstand those words, but we don’t often use them,” and he instantlygave their meaning in Malay, to show that he did understand them.

My sudden and unexpected return to this country prevented my pursuingthe investigation. I mention this circ*mstance to show that differencesare often more apparent than real. Mr. Chalmers’s vocabularies aretrustworthy, as he can speak the Land Dayak freely.

Deer.—The Dayaks of the Quop district do not refuse to eatdeer. The custom of doing so, however, obtains in Western Sarawak, butchiefly in the Singgi tribe, and then only among the young men.

As will be found mentioned in my account of Samarahan, they do sobecause deer’s flesh produces in those who eat it faint hearts; andas I have elsewhere observed, the interdict on certain[196] kinds of foodto the young people is merely selfishness on the part of the eldersto secure to themselves a greater share of articles that are notplentiful. The Silakau and Lara Dayaks who have emigrated from Sambasinto Lundu, do not eat the flesh of the deer, from an opinion that theydescended from Dayak ancestors, but Mr. Chalmers, in his experienceof the Sarawak Land Dayak, never heard of any prejudice existingagainst killing or even eating any animals except the faint-heartednesssupposed to be produced by venison; nor did he notice that the serpenthad any sacred character. Many people eat it; some, however, refuse,considering it foul-feeding.

The Sibuyau Dayaks of Lundu, from their greater intercourse with Malaysand Chinese, and from the advantages they have derived from localself-government, and freely trading with the surrounding districts,have lost most of their old superstitions, as I have noticed in myaccount of the Sea Dayaks: nor must I omit to mention that theirintercourse with a succession of able European officers, and theconstant presence among them of Mr. Gomez, a missionary of singulartact, have had a remarkable effect upon their characters, and renderedthem a very superior tribe. They kill the cobra and other reptiles, butthe Land Dayaks of Lundu, as well as the Silakaus, consider it wrong todestroy it. They say that in former times one of their female ancestorswas pregnant for seven years, and ultimately brought forth twins, one ahuman being and the other a cobra de capella. They lived together forsome time, the snake always keeping his head well out of the way forfear of[197] hurting his brother with his venomous teeth, but allowing himto amuse himself with his tail. When they grew up the cobra left thehouse to dwell in the forest, but before leaving he told his mother towarn her children, that should, unfortunately, one of them be bitten bythe hooded snake, not to run away, but remain a whole day at the spotwhere the injury was received, and the venom would have no poisonouseffect. Not long after he was met in the forest by his brother, who,under the effect of surprise, drew his sword and smote off his tail,which accounts for that blunted appearance observable in all hisbrethren. The superstition of the snake curing the bite is believed;the wounded person being still allowed to remain twenty-four hours inthe jungle. During my fourteen years’ residence in Borneo, I have onlyheard of two persons dying from the effects of snake bites.

Names:—

Names of Men.

Names of Women.

The above are personal names; when young the parents often changethem, especially if the child be sickly, there being an idea thatthey will deceive the inimical spirits by following this practice. Asthe children grow up they are dignified further by a change of name:thus, “Si Mara” becomes “Ma Kari,” i.e. the father of Kari,being the name of a[198] child of his father’s or mother’s younger brotheror sister. If this younger brother or sister have no children, whosenames are to spare, “Si Mara” must wait until he gets a child of hisown, and then he takes his child’s name with “Ma” prefixed. The samecustom holds good with women;—“Si Risi,” a personal name, beingchanged into “Nu Sangut,” i.e. the mother of Sangut. So, again,if the younger brother or sister (and this is a most comprehensiverelationship) of a person’s father or mother have grandchildren, thenthe “Ma” and “Nu” are abandoned for “Bai” and “Muk,” the grandfather orgrandmother: thus, “Ma Kari” might become “Bai Kinyum,” and “Nu Sangut”be metamorphosed into “Muk Weit.”

Marriage.—The prohibited degrees seem to be the same as adoptedamong ourselves: marriage with a deceased wife’s sister, it is said, isprohibited, as well as that between first cousins; and second cousinsare only permitted after the exchange of a fine of a jar, the womanpaying it to the relation of her lover, and he to her relations. Amongthe Sibuyaus, however, I have known an uncle marry his niece.

Heights.—Male Adults: 4 ft. 10 in. (short); 5 ft. 1in.; 5 ft. 3 in.; 5 ft. 4 in.; 5 ft. 5½ in.; 5 ft. 7 in. FemaleAdults: 4 ft. 6 in. (short); 4 ft. 8 in.; 4ft. 9 in.; 4ft. 10½in.; 5 ft.; 5 ft. 2 in. (tall).

They have little or no knowledge of medicine, though they sometimescollect pepper and onions with which to make physic, a kind ofstomachic. The grated flesh of old cocoa-nut is occasionally appliedto wounds and bruises, but there is no general knowledge[199] even of thepowers of rice poultices. Blue-stone they eagerly inquire for, and theyhave learnt its properties. Their most common physic is to get a friendto chew up a mass of sirih-leaves, areca and lime, until it is reducedto a thick red juice, which is then squirted from the mouth over thepart affected. If this physic be thus administered by a regular doctorit will be more efficacious, but any one may do it. This mess is usedindiscriminately for all diseases: stomach ache, sore eyes, ulcers,wounds, boils, rheumatism, as well as fever. When it is squirted onto the forehead it is supposed to be efficacious in relieving theaccompanying headache. This is very much practised by the Malays, whothus render their sick, objects of disgust. I have often thought itnecessary to insist upon the patient being washed carefully beforeadministering European medicines.

I have already spoken of a mixture of blood and turmeric beingplastered on the head at the regular ceremonies. On these occasionsalso the cheek and forehead of those who take part in them are markedwith blood. I have also spoken of bathing the patient in cocoa-nutwater, and these comprise all the medical applications of which I amaware.

In most tribes, there are five or six priests, and in some districtshalf the female population are included under the denomination ofpriestesses.

In Western Sarawak they are not so numerous. The power of thesewomen consists chiefly in their chanting, which is supposed to bemost effectual in driving away spirits. Strange to say, some of thesentences they chant are not in their own language,[200] but in Malay.These women are not necessarily impostors; they but practise the waysand recite the songs which they received from their predecessors, andthe dignity and importance of the office enable them to enjoy someintervals of pleasurable excitement during their laborious lives. Theirdress is very gay; over their heads they throw a red cloth, on the topof which they place a cylindrical cap, worked in red, white, and blackbeads, and their short petticoats are fringed with hundreds of small,tinkling hawk-bells. Around their neck is hung a heavy bead necklace,consisting of five or six rows of black, red, and white opaque beadsstrongly bound together. In addition, they hang over their shoulders,belt-fashion, a string of teeth, large hawk-bells and opaque beads.There are several stories concerning the origin of the priestesses.That which is current in the Quop district is as follows:—

Long ago, when the Dayaks were quite ignorant of religion, a certainman and his wife had two daughters. Both of them fell ill; the parentsknew of no remedy, so they took a pig’s trough, placed the childrenwithin it, and sent them floating down the river towards the sea. Thegreat “Iang,” from his lofty seat, saw them in this pitiful situationand crying helplessly, he had compassion on them and took them to hisdwelling on the mountain of Santubong.

There he cured them himself, and then taught them the mysteries ofreligion, the formulas they were to chant, the taboo they were toobserve, and the rites and ceremonies they were to perform. This done,he transported them back to their own village, where they were welcomedand reverenced, and it was they[201] who founded the sacred order ofpriestesses, as it now exists throughout these countries.

The priests must in many respects be regarded as impostors, though, ofcourse, even with their deceitful practices is mixed much superstitiouscredulity. They pretend to meet and to converse with spirits, toreceive warnings, and sometimes presents from them, to have the powerof seeing and capturing the departed soul of a sick man, and to be ableto find and secure for the Dayaks that vital principle of the ricewhich “Tapa” sends down from above at their two chief harvest feasts.To increase their authority, they do not hesitate to declare thatthey have predicted every event. No accident happens to man or goodsof which they do not say that they had previous warning; and a sickman scarcely ever calls upon them for their aid when they do not tellhim that for some time previously they had known he was going to havean attack. One of their commonest practices is to pretend to extractfrom a sick man’s body, stones and splinters, which they declare arespirits; they wave charms over the part affected, and jingle them uponit for a moment, then bring them to the floor with a crash, and out ofthem falls a stone, or piece of wood, or small roll of rag. At leasthalf a dozen of these evil spirits are occasionally brought out of aman’s stomach, one after the other, and great is the influence, andnot small the profit, of a successful priest. For getting back a man’ssoul he receives six gallons of uncleaned rice; for extracting a spiritfrom a man’s body, the same fee, and for getting the soul of the riceat harvest feasts he receives three cups from every family in whoseapartment he obtains it. The[202] value of six gallons of uncleaned rice isnot very great, but it is the sixtieth part of the amount obtained byan able-bodied man for his annual farm labour.

The priestesses have their fees, but they do not make so much from thesuperstition of their countrymen as the male professors.

Manufactures.—Among these are baskets of fine rattan and coarserattan mats. In each village there is generally a blacksmith who canmake, as well as repair, their spears and choppers; each man, moreover,is his own carpenter, gardener, and farmer; in fact, does almosteverything necessary for the welfare of his family.

Agriculture.—They plant rice, Indian corn, cucumbers, bananas,sweet potatoes, sugar-cane, kiladis, yams, beans in their farms andgardens, and all kinds of fruit-trees around their villages and onneighbouring hills.

I will add a story which was kindly communicated to me by Mr. Chalmersas to the introduction of rice among the Dayak tribes.

Once upon a time, when mankind had nothing to eat but a species ofedible fungus that grows upon rotting trees, and there were no cerealsto gladden and strengthen man’s heart, a party of Dayaks, among whomwas a man named Si Jura, whose descendants live to this day in theDayak village of Simpok, went forth to sea. They sailed on for sometime, until they came to a place at which they heard the distant roarof a large whirlpool, and, to their amazement, saw before them a hugefruit-tree rooted in the sky, and thence hanging down with its branchestouching the waves. At the request of his companions, Si Jura[203] climbedamong its boughs to collect the fruit which was in abundance, andwhen he was there he found himself tempted to ascend the trunk andfind out how the tree grew in that position. He did so, and at lengthgot so high that his companions in the boat lost sight of him, andafter waiting a certain time coolly sailed away loaded with fruit.Looking down from his lofty position, Si Jura saw his friends makingoff, so he had no other resource but to go on climbing in hopes ofreaching some resting-place. He therefore persevered climbing higherand higher, till he reached the roots of the tree, and there hefound himself in a new country—that of the Pleiades. There he met abeing in form of a man, named Si Kira, who took him to his house andhospitably entertained him. The food offered was a mess of soft whitegrains—boiled rice. “Eat,” said Si Kira. “What! those little maggots?”replied Si Jura. “They are not maggots, but boiled rice;” and Si Kiraforthwith explained the process of planting, weeding, and reaping, andof pounding and boiling rice. Before eating, Si Kira’s wife went to getsome water, and during her absence Si Jura looked into a large jar nearwhere he was sitting, and there, as in a telescope, he saw his father’shouse, and his parents and brothers and sisters all assembled andtalking. His spirits were much depressed at the remembrance of a homehe perhaps might not see again, and instead of eating he began to weep.Si Kira, who perceived at once what was the matter, bade him cheer upand eat away, for he would arrange everything for him satisfactorily.So Si Jura made a hearty meal, and after eating, Si Kira gave him[204] seedof three kinds of rice, instructed him how to cut down the forest,burn, plant, weed, and reap, take omens from birds, and celebrateharvest feasts; and then, by a long rope, let him down to earth againnear his father’s house.

Si Jura it was who taught the Dayaks to farm, and to this day theyfollow the instruction he received from Si Kira—nay, more, thePleiades themselves tell them when to farm; and according to theirposition in the heavens morning and evening, do they cut down theforest, burn, plant, and reap. The Malays are obliged to follow theirexample, or their lunar year would soon render their farming operationsunprofitable.

A Storm—The Musquito Passage—The Samarahan—RichSoil—The Malays—The Dayaks—The Malay Chief—TheSibuyau Village—A Pretty Girl—Dragons’ Heads—ClimbingPole—Drinking—“The Sibuyaus get no Headaches”—Force repelledby Force—Gardens—Left-hand Branch—Difficult Path—Hill ofMunggu Babi—Former Insecurity—The Village—Welcome—DeerPlentiful—Walk to the Sirih Caves—A Skeleton—IllustrativeStory—Method of Governing—Torches—Enter the Recessesof the Cave—Small Chambers—Unpleasant Walking—ConfinedPassage—The Birds’ Nests’ Chamber—Method of Gatheringthem—Curious Scene—The Cloudy Cave—Wine of theTampui Fruit—Blandishments—Drinking—Dancing—BukarsHairy—Scenery—Walk—“The Sibuyaus do getHeadaches”—Lanchang—Rival Chiefs—Ancient Disputes—DeerShooting—Wanton Destruction of Fruit Trees—Choice of an OrangKaya—Return to Boat—The Right-hand Branch—The San Poks—HotSpring—Tradition—Hindu Relics—The Female Principle—The StoneBull—Superstition—Story.

Started in the evening from our house at Kuching amid a storm of rain,thunder, and lightning. Our well-covered boat protected us, thoughthe rain fell in torrents and dashed impetuously against the mattedroof, creating so great a noise as to prevent our voices being heardeven when shouting. At last the gusts of wind sweeping up the reachesbecame so violent, that we were forced to draw under the shelter of thebanks, and await the abating of the storm. I never saw lightning morevivid, or[206] heard the crash and rattle of the thunder more deafening.The storm was evidently increasing: one bright, blinding flash, and oneear-splitting peal, that made my heart stand still, marked the crisis;gradually the lightning became less bright and the thunder less loud,as the high wind carried the tempest before it. In about an hour wewere enabled to proceed.

As the night was very dark, and the ebb tide nearly run out, we avoidedpassing into the Samarahan by the Rhium, as the rocks there aredangerous at low water, but chose another passage, very narrow, and, ifpossible, to be avoided, as the name alone is a warning—“the musquitopassage.” It is famous for the size and venom of that insect,—in fact,there is but one other spot worse, and that is Paknam at the entranceof the Siam river. The men, however, repented their choice, as it tookus the whole night to get through, and no one was able to close hiseyes. The nipa palm nearly met over our heads, and every time a leafwas disturbed a swarm of musquitoes settled on us. I endeavoured toshelter myself under a blanket, but the heat was so great as to compelme unwillingly to face the enemy. I have heard of men, exposed to thisannoyance for several days, being thrown into a fever by constantirritation, and I can well believe it.

It was daylight when we reached the Samarahan, at a spot about twelvemiles from the sea. The banks of this river are low, and consistentirely of rich alluvial deposit. When cleared, they form thebest ground for rice; when drained the sugar-cane flourishes withextraordinary luxuriance. It is, therefore, a very favourite farmingground for all those strangers[207] who have sought refuge in Sarawak.There are several thousands scattered along its banks, besides thenative population of the river.

The Samarahan Malays are a quiet, inoffensive people, and live almostentirely by farming and gardening; there is also a large Dayakpopulation in the interior. On the left-hand branch are the Bukartribe, divided into four villages—Munggu Babi, or the hill of pigs,Jenang, Lanchang, and Kumpang—which contain about three hundredfamilies that pay revenue. On the right-hand branch are the two tribesof Sring and San Pok, each containing about eighty families. I say “payrevenue,” as it is seldom that seventy-five per cent. do so. The customis to pay by the “door,” that is, each division in their village housespays the Government rice to the value of from three to four shillings.To avoid this, two or three families will crowd into a space barelysufficient for one; however, measures have been taken to ensure aproper enumeration.

Pulled on towards the village where Orang Kaya Stia Bakti, theprincipal Malay officer, lived, and passed on our way the houses of abranch of the Sibuyau tribe of Dayaks. At the landing-place we weremet by a crowd of Malays, looking especially miserable, thus showing,that like good Mahomedans, they were strictly keeping the fast; while acrowd in the neighbouring mosque where chanting in a loud voice versesfrom the Koran.

The old Orang Kaya, a pleasant, fine-looking man, came down to ourboat, and our follower, Kasim, explained to him the object of CaptainBrooke’s tour of inspection, which was to inquire into the charges[208]brought against certain Malays of oppressing the Dayaks. He said he wasextremely pleased, as it would then prove how well he and his peoplehad conducted themselves. He offered to accompany us, but this waspolitely declined on account of the fast, but the real reason was thatthe Dayaks would not have entered into their complaints before theirlocal ruler. As the flood-tide had just ended, and there was a sixhours’ ebb before us, we fell down the river to the Sibuyau village towhile away the time, and give the men an opportunity to cook and sleep.We were received with much hospitality by the Orang Kaya Tumanggong.The hamlet consists of two long houses, surrounded by a rough palisade,called by them a fort.

The Samarahan was a favourite attacking ground of the pirates, and owedmuch of its safety to the courage of these Dayaks, who were formerlymore united than they are now. The Sibuyau are, in fact, strangers.They were harassed out of their own country by the Seribas piratesand retired to Samarahan; they are now scattered, a section here, alarger one on the Lundu river, another at Meradang on the Quop, besidessmaller villages on the Sarawak, the Sadong, and in other districts.

Their houses are like the others belonging to the Sea Dayaks; the OrangKaya’s own division is large, with musquito curtains, and has an air ofcomfort and tidiness very unusual. These Sibuyaus are more independentthan the Land Dayaks, and keener traders. One of the chief’s marrieddaughters was quite pretty, extremely fair, with soft expressivefeatures, and a very gentle voice; she was making an elegant[209] matof the finest rushes; other women were employed in forming coarserones from the rougher leaves, while those that were not so engagedwere turning the padi into rice by beating it in their mortars, andwinnowing it. They show a skill in the latter process truly marvellous:they put the beaten padi into a flat basket with slightly roundedraised edges, and standing on the platform to catch the slight breeze,quietly throw the contents in the air, and catch the grains whilethe wind carries away the chaff; it is quickly cleaned. There was anappearance of activity and bustle about this village that was reallypleasing.

On the beams above our heads were some roughly carved dragons’ headsornamented with China paper, which some wise Dayak had informed themmust be guarded and preserved with care. They were quite modern, andmost probably a knave had worked on these simple people to purchasethem of him, as they could not tell their use except to stick up duringtheir feasts, in the same way as the other Sea Dayaks do with theirrudely-carved figures of birds. In front of their village was erectedone of their climbing-poles, at the raising of which the Orang Kayaproudly declared one hundred and fifty jars of tuak were consumed; andhe added, with an appearance of the greatest satisfaction, that histribe and all their visitors were intoxicated for six days. At theirconvivial meetings some strong-headed fellow will sit down before a jarholding, perhaps, a dozen gallons, and help those around; for everyone he serves out he should drink one himself, and it is his prideif he can manage to keep his seat until all[210] have lost their sensesaround him. To take glass for glass with each man until the jar wasemptied being a manifest impossibility, there must be some sleight ofhand practised to deceive the others. On inquiring whether they neverfelt headaches the next day, they said no; but their Lingga visitorsat the last great feast had cried from the pains they suffered; itwas ludicrous to notice the boastful look with which they said, “TheSibuyaus get no headaches.”

The Orang Kaya furnished us with fresh tuak, which has rather a sickly,unpleasant taste, excellent omelettes, and slices of fried kiladi,a species of arum; in return we presented him with Batavian arrack,tobacco, and sugar. I have said that these Sibuyaus are not so easilyoppressed as the other Dayaks; in fact, when the Orang Kaya was ayoung man, the most powerful Malay chief on the coast, Abdulraman,the governor of Siriki, entered their village, and tried to forcethem to purchase his goods at exorbitant prices. They refused, uponwhich he directed his followers to seize some baskets of rice, butto his astonishment the Dayaks resisted, drove him and his party totheir prahus, and in the struggle killed several of his followers. Theremembrance of this and other similar deeds has given them confidenceand preserved them from oppression.

On the flood tide’s making, we took leave of our hospitable friends andpulled up the river. Both banks are covered with gardens filled withfruit and vegetables, as well as with remarkably fine sugar-cane, whichis grown, not to be manufactured into sugar, but to be eaten in itsnatural state.

Before daylight, we were again on the move. The[211] appearance of thecountry continues the same, but the houses, as we proceed fartherup, are not quite so numerous; the gardens do not extend above a fewhundred yards from the river, and we could observe the line of theforest even from our boat. We nowhere found the water shallow till weturned up the left-hand branch that leads to the Bukar tribe; hereit becomes very narrow and is obstructed by trees and branches, andoccasionally little pebbly rapids. It was often almost impassable fromthe old trunks of fallen trees that stretched from bank to bank; but bythe greatest patience and perseverance, and by removing the covering ofour boat, we passed over some and under others of these obstructions:at last all these difficulties were surmounted, and we reached thelanding-place of the Munggu Babi Bukars about half-past two, afterupwards of eight hours’ hard work.

It was pleasant to leave the perpetual mud flat of the Samarahan andget into this branch, where occasionally rocks, and banks overshadowedby the enormous trees of the old forest, with glimpses of hills anddistant mountains, varied the scene. The Samarahan, though not a verypicturesque river, would afford great satisfaction to any one whocontemplated sugar plantations. The soil is of the richest description,and, from the existing cultivation, we may infer what it would becomein the hands of able Chinese agriculturists. These Malays neither usethe spade, the hoe, nor the plough, but simply stir the soil with apointed stick, or with their iron choppers.

At the landing-place we met a party of Sadong and[212] Bukar Dayaks, whoshouldered our baggage; we then started on our way to Munggu Babi. Thepath at first was detestable—the worst of paths, over slippery trunksand branches of huge trees lying scattered over the sites of theirold rice farms, very perilous, as the slightest slip endangered thesafety of a limb. To the bare-footed Dayak it is nothing, but shoesrender it unpleasant; however, it soon changed into the ordinary style;and getting rapidly over about four miles, we arrived at the foot ofthe hill on which the houses are built. They were entirely hidden byfruit-trees. Beyond rose the mountains of Sadong, which can be seenfrom the decks of the ships that pass along the coast. At the footof Munggu Babi flowed a delightful stream into which we plunged todispel some little fatigue arising from the heat. Our Dayak attendantshad pushed on with our baggage, and being now refreshed we beganclimbing the steep that separated us from the houses; no sooner wasthis observed, than every available brass wall-piece was fired in ourhonour, and it was under this salute that we entered the village.

It is an illustration of the state of insecurity in which these peopleformerly lived, and which is still vivid in their imagination, thatwhen those who were returning from their farms heard the guns fired,they hid themselves in the forest, thinking their homes were surroundedby enemies; and it was not until the gongs beat out joyful sounds thatthey were reassured and returned to their abodes.

The village is, as I have said, situated on the summit of a littlehill covered with every kind of fruit-tree; and was, the Bukars say,named Munggu Babi, from[213] the innumerable wild pigs that used to swarmupon it, very well represented at the present day by their civilizedbrethren. The first house is the Pangga or head-house, lately erected,very comfortable, in which we took up our lodgings; a rough sort ofstreet beyond it, lined with very old-looking houses, rising one abovethe other with the slope of the hill until the village was completed bytwo more head-houses.

We appeared to be very welcome guests, and were soon surrounded by theelders of the tribe and by crowds of young men. We were the secondparty of white visitors who had slept at this place, but the firstprobably who travelled in European style, and as usual our proceedingsexcited much curiosity. Just as dinner was over, we heard the pleasingannouncement that a Sambas Malay, who lived among the Dayaks, had shota fine buck which he very obligingly presented to us. No one who hasnot lived principally on ducks and fowls for many years can appreciatethe importance of such an event. We agreed to visit the famous cavesof Sirih the next day, and in the evening to have a search for deer.They are represented as very numerous, as the Bukars do not eat theirflesh,—a fortunate event for their visitors, but not for themselves,as they are thus deprived of good and easily-acquired food.

Up early, and after a hearty breakfast of deer-steaks, started for thecaves of Sirih. We passed up the street that runs through the centreof the village, the houses looking very dilapidated in comparison withthose of the Sibuyau Dayaks, but all were swarming with children. Anabrupt descent brought us to a lower part of the stream that runs atthe foot of Munggu Babi, affording beautifully clear water for[214] thevillagers. Continuing our course over the low buttress of the Sadongmountains, where the Dayaks have enclosed several spots for gardens,we had a beautiful prospect of the surrounding country, better seenhowever from the heights above, which we intended passing over the nextday. Two miles’ walk through old farms and fresh felled jungle broughtus to the foot of a very steep hill in which the cave was situated.Clambering up the rocks for a couple of hundred feet, we suddenlyfound ourselves at the mouth of the cave. The entrance is peculiar:divided formerly into three, the fall of a pillar has united two ofthe openings into one, which is above thirty feet in breadth; at firstthere appeared no far interior, but to the left a descending passageled into the great cave. To the right was a separate apartment with afine opening, forming the first division of the mouth, but inaccessiblefrom the outside. The Dayak boys beckoned us to come in. We went,thinking they wished us to look out from thence on the beautiful valleybelow and the lofty mountain beyond it; but our surprise was great whenthey pointed into a deep hole where lay the skeleton of a human being.

Among the guides who were with us was a resolute but very good-temperedlooking Sarawak man, and as he was standing near we asked him toexplain the cause of those bones being there. He answered very quietly,“It is only a Dayak that I shot many years ago.” We asked him toexplain, which he did without any hesitation. Some years before thesedistricts came under Sir James Brooke’s influence, a chief namedBandhar Kasim ruled over the Sadong province; he was a very harsh manand oppressed the Dayak more than[215] was usually the case among theneighbouring chiefs. One tribe on the right-hand branch of the Sadonghad suffered very severely from his exactions. They only murmured whenhe took their goods: when he demanded their children they refused togive them up, and flying to the Sirih caves threw up a barricade acrossthe entrance. This example he thought might prove contagious amongthe neighbouring tribes, so he determined to attack them; besides hewas delighted with the opportunity of acquiring slaves, as every onehe captured would be reduced to that state. By promising to dividethe booty and the captives he soon collected a force of three hundredmen, many with fire-arms. These marched boldly to the attack, butbeing received with a shower of heavy stones and rolling rocks quicklywithdrew to an open space, a little grass spot which the narratorpointed out to us. There being none present who appeared willingto expose his life for the sake of Bandhar Kasim, the whole affairseemed likely to terminate in a distant but harmless fire being keptup at the entrance of the cave. At last Bandhar Kasim cried out, “Iwill give a slave to any man who will drive those devils from theirposition.” The Sarawak man instantly volunteered, if the others wouldsupport him. Plunging into the jungle he reached the foot of the hill,and by dint of strength and activity, contrived to climb the almostperpendicular side of the mountain, and reach a spot above the cave,from whence he came down until he could look well over the barricade.The descent was now very dangerous, but he prepared for it. The firstDayak who showed himself he shot through the body; then throwing awayhis gun and taking[216] advantage of the confusion caused by the fall oftheir companion, he boldly swung himself down the rocks, and sprang inamong the astonished Dayaks crying, “Who is brave enough to fight me?”The unfortunate wretches, thinking he must be well backed, fled intothe cave and were soon pursued by Bandhar Kasim’s followers: two werekilled and seven taken prisoners; the rest escaped, as the cave extendsquite through the mountain.

While we were listening to this story, the Dayaks had prepared driedsticks of a resinous wood by splitting one end until it had theappearance of a brush; they were tolerable substitutes for torches.We followed our guides down the narrow passage that leads into theinterior cave. They walked with the greatest care, examining the groundbefore they placed a foot ahead, knowing that the men who now collectthe edible birds’ nests here often place sharp pointed pieces ofbamboo sticking up in the path to punish unwary interlopers. The cavegradually became broader and more lofty, and our slight torches couldscarcely pierce the gloom that hung thickly around us.

As we advanced the form of the cave varied but slightly, until wereached a spot where we had to pass through a sort of opening, likesome of those diminutive doors occasionally seen in odd nooks of oldcathedrals. Here we found ourselves in a small chamber that appearedfor a moment the termination of our walk, but in the right corner wasa narrow descending interstice in the rock, through which we couldjust squeeze our bodies to find ourselves again in the lofty cave. Thegentle fall of water told of the neighbourhood of a stream, which nowand then[217] became our path. The Dayaks say that there are fish that seenot, in the dark pool, which may at times be observed, particularlyunder the rocks.

We soon arrived at a sloping surface over which the water spread,rendering it difficult to prevent our feet from gliding from under us.This I gladly climbed, as we had been informed that during a heavyshower of rain the water would suddenly rise to such a height in thedepressed portion of the cave we had just passed, that all non-swimmerswould be drowned. The walking now became often unpleasant; slippery mudand no less slippery rock; the ascents and descents were very abrupt,and occasionally we passed a deep chasm where a slip might be fatal.

The stream that runs through the cave now and then disappears undersome rock to reappear fifty yards ahead.

After continuing our course about a quarter of a mile, we came on aspot where the height of the cave from seventy feet decreased to three,and through this aperture the wind blew sharply and felt very cold.The Dayaks now proposed we should stop, as our torches would not lastlonger than the time required to return to the entrance; but we saidwe wished to advance as far as the chamber in which the edible birds’nests were collected; so putting out some of the torches we pushed onin a stooping position. One fresher blast blew out some of the lights,and I thought for a moment that we were about to be left in the dark.A hundred yards brought us to the spot where the Dayaks take up theirabode during the gathering season: it was a more lofty chamber thanany we had as yet passed through. The birds build[218] as near as possibleto the top of the cave, and the dangerous operation of collecting thenests is performed by Dayaks who climb long poles fastened together tothe height of eighty or ninety feet, which looked very poor scaffoldingto sustain men at that dizzy height. The gathering is slow work, takingthem five days. The nests found in these caves are very inferior tothose of Baram; the former being like dirty glue, the latter like thefinest isinglass.

We should like to have penetrated farther and seen the country onthe opposite side, but the cave was reputed dangerous and but seldomfrequented, as the Dayaks never go beyond the profitable chamber. Thiswould have rendered our progress slow, and the blasts of cold windmight have blown out our torches, now nearly consumed; and if thechasms were as bad even as those we had passed over, we could scarcelyhave finished our journey in safety. Reluctantly, we gave the order toreturn, when the whole body of little Dayak boys who had accompaniedus, half frightened of ghosts and half in fun, started away yellingand whooping, their torches occasionally throwing light on the rockysides and now fading away to mere specks of light. The loftiness ofthis cave, its great extent, the cry of the disturbed swallows, thepeculiarly grave look of our almost naked guides, the knowledge thatwe were the first Europeans who had ever penetrated to this spot, thedistant shouts of the boys as they were re-echoed back—all combined torender the scene interesting and impressive.

From every calculation we could make, we were convinced that wepenetrated the cave above a third of a mile. It is the finest I haveever seen, but I[219] afterwards heard that there is another called GuaMawap, or the cloudy cave, which is infinitely larger. It is said thatsome Malays who had entered it to look for birds’ nests lost their wayand were no more heard of. The Dayaks from this, or some superstitiousreason, did not mention its existence to us, as they are very wellaware that Englishmen have a propensity to search every spot, whetherdangerous or not.

We returned under a very hot sun to find that all the villagers werein active preparation to have a dance and a feast. We agreed afterdinner to go to the Orang Kaya’s house, and submit ourselves to theirwill. They sent us a large decanter—where they got it from I forgotto inquire—full of a very sweet and pleasant liquor, of the colourof dark sherry, made from the tampui fruit: it was stronger than ittasted. While we were waiting for our dinner, we observed two verypleasant-looking girls of sixteen come cautiously up the ladderof the head-house. As it was very unusual for women to enter thisbachelor’s hall, we quietly watched, while pretending to be engagedin our toilette. Glancing at us, and thinking themselves unobserved,they made their way over to two Dayak youths who had accompanied usfrom the Sibuyau village. The fair Hebes bore in their hands two largebowls of fresh tuak, which they pressed their visitors to drink, butthey laughed and declined. The young girls opened a regular battery ofblandishments, put their arms round them and besought them to drink,not to give them the shame of having to take the liquor back to theirhouses to be laughed at by all the other girls; they wound up bysaying, “What! are the Sibuyaus so weak-headed as to fear to drink[220]Bukar tuak?” This was the coup de grace; the youths, alreadyhalf overcome, raised the bowls to their lips, and were not allowed toset them down till they had drained the last drop. The girls then ranaway laughing, knowing the effect that must soon follow the draught.

The Dayak women seldom, if ever, drink, but some of them appeardelighted to see their husbands and brothers in a wretched state ofintoxication. Mr. Crookshank told me that he arrived at a Sadongvillage during one of their drinking feasts: the men were alreadystaggering in their walk, and towards evening were sitting and lyingabout too drunk to be able to raise the bowls to their lips, whenthe women took that office upon them and poured the liquor down thedrunkards’ throats. It must not be supposed, however, that the Dayaksare habitual drinkers; on the contrary, except at their feasts, theyare a very sober people.

In the evening, we went to the Orang Kaya’s house, and had to gothrough most of the ceremonies I have already described in the accountof our visit up the left-hand branch of the Sarawak river. During thedancing of the old people, we inquired whether the young women neverdanced, and on our promising a gift of a brass chain that the girlswear round the waist to all who would join the elders: there was nolack of competitors. It was mischievously suggested to the Orang Kaya’sdaughter that I was a famous dancer, and it was amusing to notice theeagerness with which the girls besought me to join them; as four drewme gently into the vortex it was impossible to resist, though I quicklydisengaged myself by[221] assuring them that on their split bamboo floorsno European could dance.

The most remarkable peculiarity of many of these men is their beingso hairy in comparison to those of other tribes, some having regularwhiskers, and others beards. The women have their limbs spoilt fromcarrying heavy weights, even from their tenderest age, over exceedinglysteep ground; their legs appeared bent. I saw one mother bearing on herback two children, and a basket containing twenty or more bamboos fullof water, the latter a sufficient load for one person. In the harvest,they act as beasts of burden, and bring the bulk of the rice home. Thechildren, in general, were very clean and pleasing.

We started early in the morning for Lanchang, the second divisionof the Bukar tribe that we intended to visit. The path was overthe Sadong mountains, where a depression in the range renders itselevation not perhaps over a thousand feet. As we moved along theopen ground among the fenced-in gardens, we were enabled to obtaina very extensive view of the surrounding country, and I have rarelyseen one of greater beauty; the variety of form assumed by the hillsfrom the mountain range to the isolated peak rising from the fertileplain of the Samarahan and Quop, the extent of ground over whichthe eye could travel from the Santubong and the sea to the interiorhills of Sadong, rendered it almost as lovely and as interesting asthe famous scene from the summit of the Penang Hill. It wanted butthe civilized appearance which is found there—the houses, villas,churches, ships, and roads. The way over the hill was very difficult,consisting entirely of small felled trees,[222] notched, and in a veryrotten state, and sometimes both steep and slippery. However, we gotover it without a fall, and managed to work our way to the oppositeside, whence the valley of the Bukar stream and the interior of theSadong are visible—pretty enough, but all scenery here has similarcharacteristics.

The sun was very warm, and the perspiration ran from me in streams; butmeeting with a cool rivulet, shaded by overhanging rocks, not by trees,we sat still till perfectly cooled, and then refreshed ourselves by abathe under a tiny but foaming cascade. The two Sibuyau youths who hadbeen so fascinated by the fair maidens the previous night looked verywoful this morning, and could hardly get along at all or carry theirown baggage, but sat moodily looking at the water, with their headspressed lightly between their hands.

From this spot our path continued among the valleys, over riceplantations, without any remarkable feature. At length we reached thevillage of Lanchang, on the borders of a pebbly stream. It is builton the low land, and has a greater appearance of comfort than MungguBabi. As we were their first European visitors, we excited a greatdeal of curiosity; but forcing our way through the crowd, we took upour quarters in the head-house, making our beds, as usual, beneath aghastly row of skulls.

We were welcomed by the old Orang Kaya Sunan in the absence of therival chiefs. In this village five men claim the supremacy, havingbeen appointed at different times by various people. Sunan had beenpromoted some thirty or forty years before by[223] the Sultan of Brunei,but was now too old to do his work effectually: the other four OrangKayas were irregularly named by certain native officers without anyauthority. As I have elsewhere observed, under the former system, theMalay chiefs received half the revenues of the Dayak tribes instead ofsalary, which opened the door to many abuses. The great evil-doer wasthe Datu Patinggi of Sarawak, who had charge of Lanchang. When he foundthat an Orang Kaya would not sufficiently second him in his endeavourto monopolize the trade, he would appoint another. All this was quiteillegal; it was to do away with these abuses, and to inaugurate a newsystem, that Sir James Brooke had directed Captain Brooke to make thesetours of inspection through all the principal districts of Sarawak andits dependencies.

The consequence of having five Orang Kayas in this village was ofnecessity a series of disputes, and the day before our arrival two ofthem had quarrelled violently, and one proposed that, to settle thematter, they should sally out into the neighbouring countries, and thefirst who should bring home a head should be declared victor, and havethe case decided in his favour. It was their ancient custom, not thatthey dared to carry it into practice.

Captain Brooke summoned the five Orang Kayas before him, and orderedthem to appear at the capital, when it would be settled who should beappointed by the Government; in the meantime he set our followers tomake inquiries among the principal families, who was considered fittestfor the office and was most popular among the tribe.

[224]

Presently a small crowd assembled, and asked to have their casessettled; but finding that none of them were of less than twenty yearsstanding, they were told that it would be impossible to finish themso quickly, and they were put off. None of them really expected tohave their disputes arranged, but they appeared delighted to have agrievance to relate. I have never seen any Land Dayaks with an air ofgreater comfort; they appear to be well fed, and, consequently, aremore free from skin diseases than their neighbours.

In the evening, we went out to look for deer. After making a circuitof a few miles, I reached a stream near which the animals are usuallyfound, when, to my disgust, I heard a shot fired, followed immediatelyby another. I ran forward only in time to see a fine buck spring intothe forest and another stretched lifeless at Captain Brooke’s feet. Hecame to the spot, saw two grazing together, and with an old-fashionedcavalry carbine knocked over one; the other stood astonished, whichgave him time to reload and hit him heavily. We tracked him for alittle distance, but the night closing in prevented our finding him.Our follower, Kasim, saw eight, wounded one, but did not succeed insecuring him. My indignation at the mistake of my guide in bringingme to a spot already engaged was much mitigated by the prospect ofdeer-steaks for dinner.

That night there were the usual ceremonies and dances without anincident to vary them: they kept us up rather late.

Walked over to Jenang: it was but three miles off, through gardens,groves of fruit-trees, old ricegrounds,[225] and underwood. We noticed withmuch indignation that hundreds of fine fruit-trees were destroyed,and on inquiry found it had been done by the old Orang Kaya Sunan,who wanted to have a farm near his own house. The trees belonged tothe tribe, who vainly tried to persuade him not to do it; but beingbacked by the Datu Patinggi, he would not listen to them. The villageof Jenang is small and of little consequence, numbering but twenty-fivefamilies, and had not arrived at the dignity of an Orang Kaya. Theirhead-house was very old and small, the worst we had seen.

All the elders were called together in the morning to choose an OrangKaya; and instead of fixing on one of themselves, their choice fell ona young man of rather heavy appearance, who seemed, however, to be anuniversal favourite. After this ceremony we started off to Munggu Babi,through the valleys and lowlands between the hills. The walk was longand very much exposed to the sun, but we reached that village by one,and after a short rest pushed on to our boat.

As we had heavy rain the previous night, the stream was much swollen,but it helped us over many obstructions, though it rendered some fewmore difficult. We brought up for the night a short distance from thejunction.

Started up the right branch of the Samarahan to meet the San Poks,who were a primitive tribe, never yet visited by Europeans. We weredetained several hours by the numerous obstructions in the river.At one place, a huge tree had fallen across, and rendered a passageimpossible, except by dragging the boat[226] over. We tried; but an ominouscrack made us quickly push her back into the stream. We then with axesremoved a portion of the trunk, and at last got safely over. We met aparty of San Poks coming down the river, who returned with us. We didnot reach their landing-place till three P.M. A very dirtywalk of two miles brought us to their village-house, which was new: thetribe having but lately removed hither. The country we passed over wasundulating, occasionally descending in abrupt ravines. The San Pokshad chosen a low, cleared hill for their domicile. We were welcomedby a perfect storm of good wishes, seized on by a dozen women, whoinsisted on washing our feet, tying little bells round our wrists, anddancing before us enthusiastically. Very few could understand Malay.We inquired about the deer-grounds; but as these Dayaks are partial todeer’s-flesh, there was no game to be found in the neighbourhood.

The San Poks appeared mad with excitement; they danced, and drank, andbeat their gongs and drums till daylight, affording us but snatches ofslumber. Their ceremonies were exactly similar to those I have formerlydescribed.

Turned our faces towards home. When we came to the Bukar branch, weentered a small Dayak canoe and paddled a short distance up to landnear a spot where a hot spring was said to exist. We went ashore, andwandered on for about a mile, our guides evidently not quite certainof the path. At length we reached a small stream flowing through aflat tract of jungle—the soil a dark mud; tried it, and certainly itwas very warm. Following its course, we came[227] to the place where thewater bubbled up from the ground through the black soil. The spring wasabout six feet by three where it issued from the earth, and supplied ashallow rill about a yard in breadth. The water we could see bubblingup through liquid mud. I tried to keep my feet in it, but it was fartoo hot, and left a burning sensation. A vapour rose above it, but thewater had no perceptible taste or smell.

A few planks of an old boat that we found at this spot have given riseto a story among the Dayaks of an ancient ship being lost here whenthis lowland was covered by the sea. The planks evidently were part ofa Sea Dayak boat, from the way they were cut, and were of a fine woodcalled marbau. They have been here for many years—perhaps this waterhas a preservative effect. The aborigines say that this spring is thework of evil spirits, and therefore will not approach it alone. Webrought away a few bottles of it. It appeared a curious place to finda warm-water spring: no high land near; indeed, no rocks, but all analluvial flat.

Fell down the river till night. We sent our men ashore in one place toexamine a stone that was, as usual, in some way connected with spirits.We had it removed to Sarawak. It proved to be the representation of thefemale principle so common near Hindu temples: its necessary companionwas not found, or, being more portable, had been removed, thoughformerly it was observed there.

There is but one more known material remnant of Hindu worship in thesecountries: it is a stone bull—an exact facsimile of those found inIndia. It is cut[228] from a species of stone said not to be found inSarawak: the legs and a part of the head have been knocked off. Itshistory is this: Many years ago, on being discovered in the jungle,the Malays and Dayaks removed it to the bank of the river, preparatoryto its being conveyed to the town; but before it could be put into aprahu, they say, a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, wind andrain, arose, which lasted thirty days. Fearing that the bull was angryat being disturbed in his forest home, they left him in the mud. WhenSir James Brooke heard that this sacred bull was half-buried in thesoil, he had it removed to his house. Several of the Dayak tribes sentdeputations to him to express their fears of the evil consequencesthat would be sure to ensue—everything would go wrong, storms wouldarise, their crops be blighted, and famine would desolate the land.Humouring their prejudices, he answered, that they were mistaken,that the bull, on the contrary, would be pleased to be removed fromthe dirty place in which the Malays had left him, and that now he waskept dry and comfortable, they would find he would show no anger. Theywere satisfied with this reply and departed. Occasionally, some of theDayaks will come and wash both of these Hindu relics, and bear away thewater to fertilize their fields.

Among some of the aborigines there is a superstition that they must notlaugh at a dog or at a snake crossing their path. Should they do so,they would become stones. These Dayaks always refer with respect andawe to some rocks scattered over the summit of a hill in Sadong, sayingthat they were originally men. The place was a very likely one to[229] behaunted—noble old forest, but seldom visited. They tell the followingstory:—Many years ago, a great chief gave a feast there, in the midstof which his lovely daughter came in: she was a spoilt child, who didnothing but annoy the guests. They at first tried to get rid of herby mixing dirt with her food: finding she still teazed them for more,they gave her poison. Her father, in his anger, went back to his house,shaved his dog, and painted him with alternate streaks of black andwhite. Then giving him some intoxicating drink, he carried him in hisarms into the midst of the assembly, and placed him on the ground. Thedog began to caper about in the most ludicrous manner, which set alloff laughing, the host as well the guests, and they were immediatelyturned into stone.

First Ascent by Mr. Low—Want of Shoes—Set Sail for theTampasuk—Beautiful Scenery—The Abai—Manufacture of NipaSalt—Uses of the Nipa Palm—A Lanun Chief—Baju Saddle—Bajua Non-walker—Our ride to the Tampasuk—Gigantic MangoTrees—The Datu’s House—Its Arrangements—The Datu and hisPeople—Piratical Expedition—A Bride put up to Auction—TheBajus—Mixed Breeds—Quarrels with the Lanuns—Effectof Stealing Ida’an Children—Fable of the Horse and hisRider—Amount of Fighting Men—Freedom of the Women—Killingthe Fatted Calf—Beautiful Prospect—A new Gardinia—PonyTravelling—Difficulty of procuring Useful Men—Start—AnExtensive Prospect—Cocoa-nuts and their Milk—A View of KinaBalu—Granite Debris—Our Guides—Natives Ploughing—OurHut—Division of Land—Ginambur—Neatest Village-house inthe Country—Its Inhabitants—Tatooing—Curiosity—BlisteredFeet—Batong—GraniteBoulders—Fording—Fish-traps—Tambatuan—Robbinga Hive—Search for the Youth-restoring Tree—OurMotives—Appearance of the Summit of Kina Balu—A longStory—Swimming the River—Koung—Palms not plentiful—LanunCloth—Cotton—Nominal Wars—The Kiladi—Attempt to LevyBlack-mail at the Village of Labang Labang—Resistance—Reasonsfor demanding it—Bamboo flat-roofed Huts—IngeniousContrivance—Kiau—Dirty Tribe—Recognition of Voice—AQuarrel—Breaking the Barometer—Opposition to the Ascent ofKina Balu—Harmless Demonstration—Thieves—Mr. Low unableto Walk—Continue the Expedition alone—Cascade—Prayersto the Spirit of the Mountain—Flowers andPlants—Beautiful Rhododendrons—Cave—Unskilful Useof the Blow-pipe—Cold—Ascent to the Summit—GraniteFace—Low’s Gully—Noble Terrace—Southern Peak—Effect ofthe Air—The Craggy Summit—Distant Mountain—DangerousSlopes—Ghostly Inhabitants—Mist—Superstitions—CollectingPlants—Descent—Noble [231]Landscape—DifficultPath—Exhaustion—Mr. Low not Recovered—DisagreeableVillagers—Recovering the Brass Wire—Clothing—Distrust—Alively Scene—Our Men behave well—Return on Rails to the Datu’sHouse.

To ascend Kina Balu had been an ambition of mine, even before I eversaw Borneo. To have been, the first to do it would have increased theexcitement and the pleasure. However, this satisfaction was not forme. Mr. Low, colonial treasurer of Labuan, had long meditated the samescheme, and in 1851 made the attempt. It was thought at the time butlittle likely to succeed, as the people and the country were entirelyunknown; but by determined perseverance Mr. Low reached what may fairlybe entitled the summit, though he did not attempt to climb any of therugged peaks, rising a few hundred feet higher than the spot where heleft a bottle with an inscription in it.

In 1856, Mr. Lobb, a naturalist, reached the foot of the mountain, butwas not allowed by the natives to ascend it.

In 1858, Mr. Low and I determined to make another attempt; and earlyin April I went over from Brunei to Labuan to join him. We waited tillthe 15th for a vessel, which we expected would bring us a supply ofshoes, but as it did not arrive we started. This was the cause of mostof our mishaps,—as a traveller can make no greater mistake than beingcareless of his feet, particularly in Borneo, where all long journeysmust be performed on foot.

In 1851, Mr. Low had gone by the Tawaran, but the Datu of Tampasuk,who was on a trading voyage to Labuan, having assured us that it waseasier to get to the mountain from his river, we determined[232] to trythat route. He started before us, and on April 15th we followed,in a pinnace, obligingly lent us by Dr. Coulthard, of the EasternArchipelago Company, our party being very large for the conveyance—Mr.Low and myself, two servants, six crew, and seventeen followers. Duringthe night we passed Pulo Tiga, and were off Papar in the morning. Wesailed along as beautiful a coast as can be conceived: ranges of hillsrising one beyond the other, some grass-covered, others still clothedin forest, with soft valleys and lovely bays, and here and therepatches of bright sandy beach, with Kina Balu towering in majesticgrandeur as a background. In fact, the prospect increased in beautyuntil, on the evening of the 17th, we reached Abai, where we found theDatu of Tampasuk in his prahu. The little bay at the entrance of theAbai affords shelter from all winds except the N.W.; the bar, however,having only a fathom at low water prevents any but small craft fromentering the river. On the sandy point of the grassy plain, at the westside of the entrance, is a small well where boats may water. The Datucame off and agreed to go up the Abai with us, and send his own boatround by sea to Tampasuk.

Started at four A.M., but made very slow progress, the windblowing down the river, and the flood-tide not being strong. However,by towing and warping, we managed to reach our anchorage about tenP.M. The banks near the entrance appear to be high, but it wasalmost dark as we passed them; then narrow mangrove swamps fringed theshores with occasionally grassy hills in the background. On the leftbank there are two small[233] branches, Gading and Paka Paka, inhabited,the Datu said, by some villages of Ida’an. There appear to be but fewpeople living on this river, or rather salt-water creek. Three verysmall hamlets, containing altogether about thirty houses, were all Isaw. There are numerous sheds for making salt, which appears to bethe principal industry of the Bajus. The manufacture is conducted asfollows:—Great heaps of the roots of the nipa palm, that always growsin salt or brackish water, are collected and burnt; the residue isswept up and thrown into half-filled pans, where the ashes and smallparticles of wood are separated, and the water boiled;—a coarse,bitter salt is the result. It is not disagreeable after a little use,and I much prefer it to the common article brought from Siam, andgenerally sold in these countries. The natives of the north seldomuse the imported salt, except for preserving fish; whereas, towardsSarawak, the Siamese is rapidly taking the place of that procured fromthe nipa palms.

The nipa palm is indeed a blessing to the natives; as we have seen,they make a salt from the ashes of the root; they extract a coarsesugar from the stem; they cover in their houses with the leaf; fromthe last also they manufacture the mat called kejang, with which theyform the walls of their houses, and the best awning in the world forboats, perfectly water-tight, and well adapted to keep out the raysof the sun. Their cigars are rolled up in the fine inner leaf; and anative could doubtless tell of a dozen other uses to which it is put.In ascending rivers there is nearly always deep water near the nipa,but shallow near the mangrove.

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The Abai creek has generally more than two fathoms from the mouth tothe hamlets, but never less. We anchored opposite a Lanun chief’shouse, which, though on the left bank, is still towards Tampasuk, asthe river, after proceeding in a southerly direction, suddenly turns tothe north-east.

The Rajah Muda, the Lanun chief, came on board, and was very civil. Heis a handsome-looking, manly fellow, and extremely polite. From what Ihave heard and seen, he is a type of his countrymen—a different racefrom the Baju: a slight figure, more regular features than the Malays,a quiet, observant eye; he wore a delicate moustache. He is the son ofthe late Pañgeran Mahomed, of Pandasan, whose grave, ornamented withseven-fold umbrellas, we passed on the river’s bank.

Knowing that we could ride from Abai to Tampasuk, we had brought ourEnglish saddles, and were soon mounted on indifferent ponies, makingour way towards the Datu’s house in an easterly direction. The Bajusaddle, made of wood, covered with thin cloth, is very small. Insteadof stirrups they have a rope with a loop in the end, into which theyinsert their big toe, and ride with the soles of their feet turned upbehind; and when they set off on a gallop they cling with their toesunder the pony’s belly.

The Baju is essentially a non-walker. He never makes use of his ownlegs if he can possibly get an animal to carry him. He rides all thehorses and the mares, even when the latter have but just foaled. Cowsare equally in requisition, and it was laughable to observe one ofthese animals with a couple of lads on her back trotting along thepathways, a calf, not a[235] week old, frisking behind her. The waterbuffalo, however, appeared to be the favourite—the strong beastconstantly carrying double. Every man we met had a spear, which wasextremely useful in fording rivers, as well as for defence.

We rode at first over a small plain, about two miles in extent, halfof which we had to traverse: it was bounded on either side by a lowsandstone range, and before us was a connecting ridge, which we hadto cross before entering the Tampasuk district. From its top, we hada view of the country: beneath us was a plain, extending some milesbeyond the river; not very pleasant riding, as every here and there aslushy, muddy stream crossed the path, into which our ponies sunk up totheir girths, and found some difficulty in floundering through. Therewere signs that cultivation is occasionally carried on here, and Ishould imagine it well adapted for rice fields. As it happened to be avery warm day, we were not sorry, after a ride of two miles and a half,to reach the river’s bank, where we found a most agreeable shade undergigantic mango trees. I call them gigantic—they were for this country,being above two feet in diameter, and probably sixty feet high.Unfortunately, it was not the fruit season. Very few mangoes in Borneoare worth eating. Occasionally we find them with delicate flavour; butnothing to equal the magnificent fruit of Bombay. I was anxious totaste the produce of these trees, as from former intercourse with theSpaniards the natives might have obtained seeds from Manilla, where thefruit arrives at great perfection. A half mile of shady ride brought usto the ford opposite to the Datu’s house, where we found the Tampasuk,a[236] hundred yards wide, but not more than three feet deep—clear, cool,and rapid.

After enjoying a pleasant bathe, we strolled on for a hundred yardsto the Datu’s house, which is really a good and comfortable one, andwe were agreeably surprised at the excellent accommodation. It isdouble-storied, with plank walls. The lower part of the house consistedof one great room, surrounded by broad verandahs; the end ones beingpartially partitioned off. In one of these we were lodged, and foundall the ladies of the family engaged in preparing our apartment andcovering the floor with nice clean mats of brilliant colours, which,with our own bedding, soon made us comfortable. The great room,or hall, was the chief’s, in the centre of which was an immenseresting-place or bed, and behind were heaps of boxes, containing thewealth of the family, piled as I had seen done in Sulu. The upper storyappears to be reserved for the daughters and other unmarried girls,who, as their floor was only of split bamboo, could look through andwatch all our movements; and the occasional light laughter showed thatwe afforded them some amusem*nt.

The Datu of Tampasuk is considered the head of the Bajus in thesedistricts, but his power is more nominal than real. The race is,individually, very independent, and no one appears ready to obeyauthority; and the same character may be given to their neighbours,the Lanuns and Ida’an. Mengkabong and Tampasuk are their chief ports,though they are scattered in many other districts, both on this and thenorth-eastern coast. They were formerly very piratical, and even noware unwilling to let a favourable[237] opportunity pass. Their lawlessnessis proverbial: one instance will suffice. A large party went on anexpedition to the island of Banguey, where they anchored opposite avillage, and commenced trading, being, they said, particularly anxiousfor tripang, or edible sea-slug. The fishermen dispersed in quest ofthis article, but had no sooner gone than the crews of the prahuslanded, surprised the village, killed or drove away the few men thatremained, and captured about twenty-eight women and children. Thislittle incident was much talked of at the time, as they managed toseize a young bride, just decked out for a wedding, loaded with all thegold ornaments of the village. This young girl, contrary to their usualcustom, was, it is said, put up to auction by her captors, as she wastoo valuable to be one man’s share. Yet both the people of Banguey andMengkabong are claimed by the Brunei Government as their subjects. Ihave little doubt that, on hearing of this affair, the only reflectionof the ministers was—“We wish those Mengkabong people were nearer,that we might have a share of the plunder.”

When not engaged in sea expeditions, the Bajus employ themselves ina peddling trade with the aborigines, exchanging nipa salt, with alittle iron and cloth, for tobacco and rice; the former they sell tothe Malays. I must not omit to notice that the Bajus are very expertfishermen, and catch and salt a great quantity every year, which theysell to the inhabitants of the hills. Some few have gardens, andplant rice, and, in a lazy, careless way, rear cattle, ponies, andbuffaloes. They profess Islamism, but do not probably understand muchbeyond the[238] outward observances, though they keep the fast with greaterstrictness than most of the Malays. No one can accuse the Bajus ofbeing a handsome race; they have generally pinched-up, small faces, lowforeheads, but bright eyes; the men are short, slight, but very active,particularly in the water; the women have similar features, and areslighter and perhaps taller than the Malay; they wear their hair tiedin a knot on the fore part of the head, which has a very unbecomingappearance. I never saw a good-looking face among them, judging even bya Malay standard. The Datu had five daughters, as well as five sons—alarge family, but a thing by no means rare in Borneo.

We saw many men that differed totally from the above description, but,on inquiry, found they were of mixed breed. I asked one of what racehe was. He answered four—Baju, Lanun, Malay, and Chinese. He was abroad-faced, ugly-looking fellow, one of our guides. Another, rathergood-looking, claimed to be descended of four races also—Baju, Sulu,Lanun, and Malay. Almost all those we asked were of mixed parentage,which renders it difficult to describe a particular tribe; yet the Bajuis a distinct animal from the Malay, and does credit to his name of SeaGipsy, as he has quite the appearance of that wandering tribe.

We heard much of their differences with the Lanuns, who occupy themouth of the Tampasuk, and were formerly very powerful on this coast;their own oppressive conduct turned the people of the interior againstthem, and at Tawaran they were driven out. They were accused ofstealing the children of the Ida’an. I say driven out—I should ratherhave[239] said, teazed out. No people in this country can cope with themin battle; so the Ida’an kept hovering around the Lanun villages tocut off stragglers. At last, no one could leave the houses even tofetch firewood, unless accompanied by a strong armed party, whichinterfered so much with their piratical pursuits that they at lastabandoned the country, and retired to Tampasuk and Pandasan. Herethey were in 1845 attacked by Sir Thomas Cochrane, and their villagesburnt. This again broke up their communities, and most of those whowere addicted to piracy retired to the north-east coast, to Tungku andthe neighbouring rivers. Since then they have gradually so dwindledaway in these countries, that now, it is said, they scarcely muster twohundred fighting men. Even these are under various chiefs, who delightin giving themselves high-sounding names, as Sultan, Rajah, Rajah-Muda;though, perhaps, scarcely able to man a war prahu with their followers.

The present cause of quarrel between the Lanuns and Bajus is theft,mutual reprisals ending in the death of one of the latter. The Datutalked of nothing but war; he said he had been advised by the Spanishmissionary, Signor Cuateron, to apply to the Spaniards at Balabak toassist him in expelling the Lanuns, and that he was determined to doso. I related to him the fable of the horse and his rider, and left himto find out its application. His ready laugh told he had caught themeaning. The Datu said he could muster 600 fighting men in Abai andTampasuk, and that the Lanuns have but 150. At Pandasan the Lanuns havebut forty men to oppose to 400 Bajus. Still, the latter have no stomachfor[240] the fight. I doubt if they give very correct information about thenumbers at Pandasan, as in 1851 they were very much more numerous; infact, several hundreds were then seen around the houses of the chiefs.They themselves said that comparatively few lived on the Tampasuk. Mr.Low ascended the Pandasan and found a village under Panquan Mahomed,whose grave we saw on the Abai; and, farther up this shoal and narrowriver, he came to the village of Asam, the residence of Pañgeran Mertaand other chiefs. Beyond that, on the tongue of land caused by theriver dividing, was the village of Sultan Si Tabuk. About twenty-fivemiles to the north of Pandasan are the small rivers of Kanio Kanio andLayer Layer, also inhabited by Lanuns. They are very fond of boastingof their courage, and say, if the Europeans would but meet them swordin hand, they would fight them man to man.

I may notice that the Lanuns, Bajus, and Sulus do not shut up theirwomen in the same manner as is practised by the Malays of the capitaland most other Mahomedans; on the contrary, they often sit with themen, and enter freely into the subject under discussion. I shouldlike to be able to ascertain whether this comparative freedom rendersthem more chaste than the Malay women; they could not well be lessso. In Sulu, the wives of the chiefs are entrusted with the principalmanagement of the accounts, and carry on much of the trade; it issaid that they have acquired considerable knowledge from the Manillacaptives, who are often of a superior class.

We stayed a day at the Datu’s house, waiting the arrival of ourbaggage, for which we had despatched[241] buffaloes. The chief, to showhis hospitality, determined to kill a fatted calf to feast us and ourfollowers. The endeavours, first to catch a cow, then a calf, werevery amusing. The beasts were particularly active, half-wild things;and the Bajus gave chase on horseback, galloping boldly over the roughground, and through the long grass. We expected every moment to see manand horse roll over, but by dint of hard chasing, at last a half-grownheifer was driven into the enclosure; man, horse, and game beingequally blown.

In the afternoon we rode over towards Pandasan, in search of plants;from the summit of the first low hill we had a beautiful view of thelovely plain of Tampasuk, extending from the sea far into the interior.Groves of cocoa-nuts were interspersed among the rice grounds, whichextended, intermixed with grassy fields, to the sea-shore, boundedby a long line of casuarinas. Little hamlets lay scattered in alldirections, some distinctly visible, others nearly hidden by the richgreen foliage of the fruit-trees. The prospect was bounded on the westby low sandstone hills, whose red colour occasionally showed throughthe lately-burnt grass, affording a varied tint in the otherwiseverdant prospect; to the south, Kina Balu and its attendant ranges werehidden by clouds.

Riding on over the undulating ground, we entered a plain that liesbetween the districts of Tampasuk and Pandasan; it looked parched, andwas in no way to be compared to the one we had left: clouds of smokefrom the burning grass occasionally obscured the prospect. Here Mr. Lowfound a beautiful gardinia,[242] growing on slight elevations, on barren,decomposing rock, and plentiful wherever the land was undulating. Itseemed to flourish in positions exposed to the hottest rays of thesun, and in situations where the reflected heat was also very great.It was a bush, varying from a few inches to two feet in height, andbore flowers of a pure white. We observed some of the shrubs not sixinches in height, which were covered with blossoms, yielding a powerfularomatic odour. In fact, as we rode among them, the whole air appearedfilled with their fragrance. I imagine the dwarfing of the plantsresulted from the inferior nature of the soil, and the great heat whichkept the moisture from their roots. The high range that separates thesedistricts from Maludu Bay does not appear to be very far off; in fact,it is but two days’ journey on horseback, which, in the mountains,would not be much faster than walking, since the paths are very bad.We galloped home, the natives evidently amused by our novel style ofsitting a horse. Our ride had been in a north-easterly direction.

On our arrival at the Datu’s house, we found all our followersassembled, and the baggage in heaps near our beds. We therefore madepreparations for starting in the morning. On dividing our luggage,however, it appeared that we should require at least a dozen Bajus toassist; these had been promised, but were not forthcoming. Guides tocarry nothing were easily procurable; but it being the month of theRamadhan was an excuse for any amount of laziness.

When we started next morning, the Datu came with us a few miles andhelped us with some of his[243] men; so that, having packed up, we wereenabled to leave about nine A.M. Our route lay through lowlandfor about a mile and a half, crossing the river once. We stopped at avillage situated on and about a low hill. By the way, we saw a herdof fine cattle, both white and piebald—an unusual colour in Borneo;they were in a very flourishing condition, and I endeavoured in vainto make arrangements to transport the whole lot to my grounds near theConsulate. We stayed at a house occupied by Rajah Ali, a Baju, forabout an hour, trying to get men to take the place of the Datu’s, whohad helped us so far, but could not tempt really useful men. We hadalready four guides, and might have had as many more as we pleased, butporters were not to be procured.

The house where we rested was on top of a little hill, commanding avery extensive prospect: at the foot the river divided into two, onebranch stretching away towards the E.S.E., whose course we could tracefor eight or ten miles; it then appears to take a southerly direction,towards Kina Balu, from which the natives say it issues: the right-handbranch bore S. by E., and this is visible for several miles—perhapseight; it then appears to turn more easterly. Near the banks the groundis generally flat, while towards the west the hills are numerous.

Finding it impossible to get men enough to carry all our things,we resolved to push on with those we had, and then send back forthe remainder. Our impedimenta were numerous, as we had boxes forspecimens, planks with quires of brown paper, besides the cloths andbrass wire required to purchase provisions. Every man also was providedwith a musket.

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Our course lay at first over hills with soil of a reddish colour, buta couple of miles brought us to the low land bordering the river. Herewe brought up under a clump of cocoa-nut palms, to allow our stragglingparty to collect, and having obtained permission, our men soon secureda supply of the fruit. I have no doubt that many travellers in tropicalcountries will agree with me, that nothing is more refreshing aftera walk in a broiling sun (and it was indeed broiling to-day) than adraught of cocoa-nut-milk, duly tempered with a dash of wine or brandy.For some time I preferred a glass of sherry or madeira, now I inclineto a tablespoonful of brandy, as forming the most agreeable and healthycompound. I have seen to-day a great many clumps of cocoa-nut-treesvery unhealthy. I think they must be injured by the constant drain towhich they are subjected by the aborigines in extracting toddy fromthem. These trees belonged to the Piasau Ida’an, whose villages werescattered in every direction. Piasau is the word used by the Borneansof the capital for cocoa-nut.

While reclining under the shade of these palm-trees, we had a beautifulview of the country beyond. The Tampasuk flowed past us, bubbling andbreaking over its uneven bed; here shallower, and therefore broader,than usual. To the left the country was open, almost to the base ofthe great mountain; to the right the land was more hilly, and SadukSaduk showed itself as a high peak, but dwarfed by its neighbourhood toKina Balu, whose rocky precipices looked now of a purple colour. Thesummit was beautiful and clear, and I remained in earnest study of itsfeatures till aroused by an exclamation of my[245] companion, who, pointingto a remarkable indentation surmounting an apparently huge fissure ingloomy shade, said, “I am sure that is the spot where I left a bottlein 1851.” With the aid of a telescope we could distinctly note theposition of every crag, and I determined, if possible, we would visitthat fissure, and see if the bottle still remained. Kina Balu lookedmore grand to-day than ever as there were no hills between us to marits noble proportions. I made a sketch of the crags on the summit inorder to recognize them again, if we should be sufficiently fortunateto reach them.

Having collected our party, now amounting to about thirty, we movedon. Our path lay near the river, which we had to ford eight times,and where the stream was rapid, the operation proved very fatiguing.Between the reaches our path ran over granite débris of thesize of coarse sand; it was so hot that it felt painful through ourshoes, and those who were barefoot danced along over it as if they wereon burning stones:—it was trying walking. We fully intended to havereached Ginambur, but having had so many detentions, we found thatat 4 P.M. it was still several miles off; it was useless,therefore, to expect to reach it, particularly as our men, unaccustomedto walking, were greatly fatigued. We determined, therefore, to put upat the farm-houses of the Buñgol Ida’an, which were built convenientlyon the banks of the river. It had been threatening rain, which came onbefore the evening closed in. Our general direction all day had been alittle to the east of south.

The Datu of Tampasuk had promised to accompany us himself, but the fastgave him an excellent excuse; he, however, sent some men as guides,whom[246] he called his relations. These men of course came with us,fancying that by trading for us with the Ida’an they would be enabledto make a great profit beyond the regular pay. They did not fail to letus know their intentions, by telling us that the Ida’an were askinghalf a dollar’s worth of goods for a fowl; so we declined taking it,telling the Bajus that we were well aware that they themselves couldget a dozen for the same amount. We expected and intended to let themfleece us moderately, but this was too barefaced. We had tin meats,—somanaged to make an excellent dinner without the fowl. Such provisionsare certainly of great assistance to the traveller, but the additionof a fowl, or of any fresh vegetable, takes away that unpleasant tastealways observable in preserved meats.

It was here I first saw natives ploughing. Their plough is of a verysimple construction, and serves rather to scratch the ground thanreally to turn it over: it is made entirely of wood, and is drawn bya buffalo, and its action was the same as if a pointed stick had beendragged through the land to the depth of about four inches. Afterploughing, they use a rough kind of harrow. Simple as this agricultureis, it is superior to anything that exists south of Brunei, and itwould be interesting to investigate the causes that have renderedthis small part of Borneo, between the capital and Maludu Bay, sosuperior in agriculture to the rest. I think it is obviously a remnantof Chinese civilization. I must elsewhere dwell upon the Chineseintercourse, as it is too extensive a subject to be introduced into ajournal while waiting for the cook to get the dinner ready. The[247] farmhut in which we spent the night was about twelve feet by six, and ofexceedingly neat construction: the bamboo was employed for posts, andsplit afforded both good flooring and walls; the roofing leaves werealso excellent, and made from the sago palm. The musquitoes were verynumerous, and soon drove us to bed: the natives assert that theseinsects are not to be found near running fresh water—a statement whichexperience completely disproves.

The farmhouse we occupied was one of many scattered over a narrowplain, perhaps four or five hundred yards in breadth, which skirted thebanks of the river for several miles. It was evident that these Ida’ankept this land under continued cultivation, and that each portion wasstrictly private property. We found every house had about four acres ofground belonging to its owner, which were divided from one another byslight embankments. The soil appeared of admirable quality—in fact,a rich black mould. Heaps of panicles were lying near the houses, andthe amount seemed to show that they must have had a very good crop lastyear.

Having induced three Buñgol Ida’an to start with buffaloes to fetchthe baggage that was left at Rajah Ali’s house, we moved on a littlebefore ten for Ginambur, intending to await their arrival there. Ourpath lay along the left bank, over low ground covered with long grassand brushwood, which prevented our obtaining other than glimpses ofthe mountain, but at a rapid we had a good view. The Baju guidesgave these Ida’an the character of great thieves, and requested usto have everything carefully put away at night, affirming that theseinhabitants[248] of the plain were of a different character from thoseon the hills. It may be so, but we have never found the aboriginesinclined to pilfer; on the contrary, they are remarkably honest; andshould these prove to be of a different disposition, it will be anunique instance. Here as at Buñgol we could not purchase fowls exceptat absurd rates, which we declined. It is curious that these peopleshow no hospitality—never offering us a single thing; but, instead,trying to overreach us in every transaction.

The house in which we lodged was the best I have ever seen among theaborigines: it was boarded with finely-worked planks; the doors werestrong and excellently made, with a small opening for the dogs to goin and out; everything looked clean—quite an unusual peculiarity.The flooring of beaten-out bamboos was very neat, and free from alldirt, which I have never before noticed in a Dayak house, where thedogs generally render everything filthy. As this was the cleanest, soI think my friend the Bisayan chief’s house on the Limbang was thedirtiest—to describe its abominations would turn the reader’s stomach.

These Ida’an are very good specimens of the interiorpeople—clear-skinned, free from disease, with pleasant, good-humouredcountenances. None of the women are good-looking; still, they would notbe called ugly. We noticed two peculiarities: that all the girls andyoung women wore a piece of black cloth to conceal their bosoms, whichwas held in its place by strips of coloured rattans; their petticoatswere larger than usual, a practice that might have been followed withadvantage by their elders. The[249] second was that the young girls had thefront of the head shaved, after the manner of the Chinese.

I have not noticed that any of the men are tattooed, but during ourwalk to-day we met many large parties of Ida’an loaded with tobacco,who were on their way to Tampasuk to trade, among whom there weresome ornamented in this fashion:—A tattooed band two inches broad,stretched in an arc from each shoulder, meeting on the stomach, thenturning off to the hips; others had likewise a band extending from theshoulders to the hands. They were all small, slight men, and armed withspears and swords.

As we were the first Europeans who had ever penetrated so far into thecountry, we excited great curiosity, particularly among the femaleportion of the tribe: every action was watched and commented upon,though I am bound to state that my little China boy, Ahtan, with hislong tail, excited equal surprise; and when the black Madras cookcommenced operations, we were totally abandoned, and a most attentivecrowd collected round him, watching his every motion. As he proceededto prepare the curry and the stew, the pressure became too great forhis patience, so that he ran out declaring he could not cook thedinner. The crowd then drew back a little, but his actions did notescape the most attentive inspection. We were told that there wasanother extensive village of their people on the slope of the hills,embowered in groves of fruit-trees. It is a great advantage to liveon the banks of a running stream, as all the population can keepthemselves clean by frequent bathing. Another great preventive[250] todisease is their having sufficient food: they appear well off, withplenty of buffaloes and cattle—a contrast, indeed, to their miserablebrethren on the Limbang.

We soon began to find the effect of starting without proper shoes:yesterday my boots had blistered one heel so much that I determined towalk barefooted. Mr. Low’s feet became likewise so painful that he madeup his mind to follow my example.

Our baggage did not arrive till the morning; we were then detained toprocure men to carry it. At last Suñgat, the chief, agreed to followus with six of the villagers. We started about eleven. Our course layalong the banks of the river, cutting off the points, and occasionallyin the bed of the old stream. It having rained on the night previous,the river was somewhat swollen, which prevented either ourselves orour men fording it without Baju assistance; this rendered our progressslow. Mr. Low having never before walked without shoes, sufferedmuch in passing over the pebbles, which were heated by the brightmidday sun, and I also, though more used to it, felt it very muchoccasionally: in four hours we did not make more than three miles.

Having passed a very deep ford at 2.45 P.M., we agreed to stopfor the night, and pitched our tents on the banks of the river on somedry sand, to have the benefit of the cool water that flowed by. Wemight have gone to the Ida’an houses, but preferred the independenceof our own tents, both as more cool and less crowded; besides, we werethere free from the suspicion of insects. The fords we passed duringthe day were composed of black sand, with[251] small blocks of granite andserpentine mixed with sandstone.

The name of this place was Batong: from it Kina Balu bore S.E., andSaduk Saduk 15° east of south; the latter appears from this view tobe a peaked mountain between 5,000 and 6,000 feet high. Kina Balu ofcourse absorbed our attention: at night, as the sun shone brightlyon its peaks, it wore a very smiling appearance. The summit seemedfree from all vegetation, and streams of water were dashing over theprecipices.

Started next morning at a quarter to eight, and soon arrived at aplace where the river divided, the Penantaran coming from an E.N.E.direction. Its bed was full of large blocks of serpentine (though afterpassing the mouth of this branch we met with very few specimens of thatkind of rock). There is a village of the same name as the branch closeto the junction. We followed the right-hand branch—direction aboutsouth—keeping close to the banks, crossing and recrossing continually,seeing occasionally a few houses. We were now passing through sandstoneranges, but the country had no remarkable features. At 9.40, stopped tobreakfast, having made about four miles; our followers gradually closedup. At eleven we pushed on again. Huge granite boulders are now common,and under the shelter of one mighty stone we rested for half an hour,waiting the arrival of our straggling followers.

One of the greatest advantages of travelling with an intelligentcompanion is the interchange of ideas, and consequently the moreaccurate noting of observations. As we sat beneath the shade of thehuge[252] granite boulder, surrounded on all sides by sandstone hills, wecould not but speculate how it came there. Without having recourse tothe glacier theory, the reason appeared to me simple. It is evidentthat the level of the country was very much greater in former timesthan at present, and that water is the great agent by which thesechanges have been effected.

The streams continually cut their way deeper in the soil, as we maydaily observe: the increasing steepness causes innumerable landslips,and the process going on for ages, the whole level of the country ischanged, and plains are formed from the detritus at the mouths of therivers. Huge granite masses, falling originally from the lofty summitof Kina Balu, would gradually slip or roll down the ever-forming slopeswhich nature is never weary of creating.

In ascending some of the steeps that rise on either side of the streamsnear Kina Balu, we continually came across boulders of granite, which,in comparatively few years, will, through landslips, roll many hundredfeet into the stream below, to commence their gradual movement fromthe mountain. I have continually come across evidences of the Borneanrivers having flowed at a much higher level than at present, findinglayers of water-worn pebbles, a hundred feet above the present surfaceof the stream. In Borneo, where the rain falls so heavily, the power ofwater is immense. After a heavy storm, the torrents rise in confinedspaces often fifty feet within a few hours, and the rush of the streamwould move any but the largest rocks, and wash away most of the effectsof the landslips.

[253]

Standing on a height overlooking a large extent of country, it isinstructive to be able to survey at a glance the great effect causedby the rivers and all their tributaries, deep gullies marking everyspot where an accession joins the parent stream. After heavy rains, therivers present the colour of café au lait, from the large amountof matter held in temporary suspension, and on taking out a glassful,I have been surprised by the amount of sediment which has immediatelyfallen to the bottom.

The walk was becoming rather tiring; drizzling rain rendering thestones very slippery, and having continually to make the mountaintorrent our path, it was severe work for our bare feet. The raincontinuing, and the stream rapidly rising, we halted at somefarm-houses in the midst of a long rice-field. Fording the river isdifficult work; the water rushing down at headlong speed, renders itnecessary to exert one’s utmost strength to avoid being carried away:the pole in both hands, placed well to seaward, one foot advancedcautiously before the other, to avoid the slippery rocks and loosestones. I found that this fatigued me more than the walking. Thewater became much cooler as we approached the mountain, while theland is rapidly increasing in elevation. The river was full of Ida’anfish-traps, made by damming up half the stream, and forcing the waterand fish to pass into a huge bamboo basket. They appeared to requiremuch labour in the construction, particularly in the loose stone wallsor dams. As we advanced, we found the whole stream turned into one ofthese traps, in which they captured very fine fish, particularly afterheavy rain. I bought one with[254] large scales, about eighteen incheslong, which was of a delicious flavour.

To see the young Ida’an ford the stream, raised both my envy and myadmiration; with the surging waters reaching to their armpits, with ahalf-dancing motion, they crossed as if it were no exertion at all. Somuch for practice. During the last three hours we did not make morethan four miles, though out of the stream the paths were good. The raincontinuing to pour heavily, we determined to stop, as I have said, atthese Ida’an huts, which were situated opposite the landing-place ofthe village of Tambatuan, concealed by the brow of a steep hill risingon the other bank. We sent a party there to buy rice, which becamecheaper as we advanced: these villages also possessed abundance ofcattle and buffaloes. We were much pleased to find the great confidenceshown by the people; we often met parties of women and girls, and on nooccasion did they run away screaming at the unusual sight of a whiteface. Several of them came this afternoon to look at us, and remainedquite near for some time, interested in watching our proceedings. KinaBalu was cloud-hidden this evening.

During the night our rest was much disturbed by bees, who stung usseveral times, and Mr. Low, with that acuteness which never deserts himin all questions of natural history, pronounced them to be the “tame”bees, the same as he had last seen thirteen years ago among the SenahDayaks in Sarawak. About midnight we were visited by a big fellow, who,our guides assured us, wanted to pilfer; but we found next morning thathe had come to complain of his hives having been plundered. On inquiry,we discovered[255] the man who had done the deed. He was fined three timesthe value of the damage, and the amount handed over to the owner.

A great many questions were asked as to what could be our object invisiting Kina Balu: to tell them that it was for curiosity wouldhave been useless: to say that we were seeking new kinds of ferns,pitcher-plants, or flowers, would not have been much more satisfactoryto them. Some thought we were searching for copper or for gold, whileothers were equally convinced we were looking for precious stones. Oneman sagaciously observed that we were seeking the Lagundi tree,whose fruit, if eaten, would restore our youth and enable us to livefor countless years, and that tree was to be found on the very summitof Kina Balu. To-day an Ida’an came, I suppose to try us, and said heknew of copper not more than half a day’s journey from our path, andoffered to take us to it; seeing we were not to be tempted, anothertold us of a tree of copper that was to be found a few miles off; buteven that did not alter our determination to make the best of our wayto the mountain. We left the questioners sadly puzzled as to whatpossibly could be our object in ascending Kina Balu.

All the Bajus and Borneans are convinced that there is a lake on thevery summit of this mountain, and ask, if it be not so, how is itthat continual streams of water flow down its sides. They forget thatvery few nights pass without there being rain among the lofty crags,even when it is dry on the plains. Sometimes the sun, shining onparticular portions of the granite, gives it an appearance of[256] greatbrilliancy; and those who formerly ascended the summit with Mr. Low,reported that whenever they approached the spot where these diamondsshowed themselves at a distance, they invariably disappeared: as thesem*n have a perfect faith in every wild imagination of the ArabianNights, they easily convinced themselves and their auditors thatthe jinn would not permit them to take them. The old story of the greatdiamond, guarded on the summit of Kina Balu by a ferocious dragon,arose probably from some such cause. The Malays are great storytellers,and these wonders interest them. I may notice that most of the menthat were with us accompanied us to the mountain of Molu the precedingFebruary, and then one of the Borneans commenced a story which lastedthe seventeen days we were away, and he occasionally went on withit during our present journey. It was the history of an unfortunateprincess, who for “seven days and seven nights neither eat nor drank,but only wept.”

Opposite our resting-place we observed some remarkably elegant treeferns, whose stems rose occasionally to the height of ten feet, andwith their long leaves bending gracefully on every side, they were anornament to the river’s bank. We noticed as yet but little old forest.The only fine trees we saw were near the villages, and these werepreserved for their fruits. Where the land is not cultivated, it iseither covered with brushwood, or trees of a young growth.

Drizzling rain prevented our departure till near eight, when wecontinued our course along the ricefields: we had been told we shouldfind the path[257] very bad, but were agreeably surprised by it proving dryand principally among plantations of kiladi. We crossed the river onlyfive times, and passed over a sandstone range about five hundred feetabove the plain: it was nearly three miles from our resting-place. Thestream had now become a perfect mountain torrent, breaking continuallyover rocks.

Occasionally the fords were difficult, as the continued rains renderedthe river very full. At one place where an island divides the Tampasuk,it was so deep that it was found necessary to swim over, and only avery expert man could have done it, as the water rushed down with greatforce. The Bajus, however, were quite prepared; they did not attemptto cross the stream in a direct course, but allowed themselves to becarried away a little, and reached the other side about fifty yardsfarther down. They did it very cleverly, carrying all our luggage over,little by little, swimming with one hand and holding the baskets in theair with the other. As we could not swim, two men placed themselves,one on either side of us, told us to throw ourselves flat on the waterand remain passive; in a few minutes we were comfortably landed on theopposite bank, drenched to the skin, it is true, but we had scarcelyhad any dry clothes on us during the whole journey; however, no soonerdid we arrive at our resting-places, than we stripped, bathed, rubbedourselves into a glow, and put on dry clothes. Nothing is so essentialas this precaution, and I have twice had severe attacks of fever fromneglecting it. The hills as we advanced began closing in on the river’sbanks, leaving[258] occasionally but a narrow strip of flat ground near thestream.

At 11.20 A.M. we reached Koung, a large, scattered villageon a grassy plain: it is a very pretty spot, the greensward extendingto the river’s banks, where the cattle and buffaloes graze: about ahundred feet up the side of a neighbouring hill is another portion ofthe village. The roaring torrent foams around, affording deliciousspots for bathing, the water being delightfully cool. In the bedof the stream there were masses of angular granite, mixed with thewater-worn boulders. It was the first time we had ever seen it of thatsharp form, but similar blocks were afterwards noticed on the summit.The wild raspberry is very plentiful here. One cannot help havingone’s attention continually drawn to the air of comfort, or, rather,to the appearance of native wealth observed among the Ida’an: foodin abundance, with cattle, pigs, fowls, rice, and vegetables; and noone near them to plunder or exact. Accustomed as I had been to theaborigines around the capital, the contrast struck me forcibly.

Next day we hoped to reach Kiau, the village from which Mr. Low startedfor the mountain in the spring of 1851. There was an apparent hitchabout getting from that place; but we thought perhaps the reports arosefrom tribal jealousy. At four P.M., Koung: barometer, 28·678°;thermometer, 77·5°; unattached, 78·3°. So that this village must beabout 1,500 feet above the level of the sea: a very rapid rise for thestream in so short a distance. The sandstone hill we crossed to-dayhad the same characteristics as those I had observed up the Sakarang,Batang Lupar, and near the capital—all[259] being very steep, with narrowridges, and buttresses occasionally springing from their sides: on theone we crossed to-day was a quantity of red shale.

Near our last night’s resting-place, I noticed, for the first time onthis river, some sago palms; they have again shown themselves to-day,and there are a few round the village, but neither these trees norcocoa-nut nor areca palms are plentiful. At every village I madeinquiries about cotton, and, like the men with tails, it was alwaysgrown a little farther off; only we know cotton must be grown somewherein this neighbourhood, as at the very moment I was writing my journalI saw an old woman engaged spinning yarn from native material. TheLanuns also furnish a cloth which is highly prized among every class ofinhabitants in Borneo; it is a sort of checked black cloth, with narrowlines of white running through it, and glazed on one size. This wasformerly made entirely of native yarn; but I am afraid this industrywill soon decline, as connoisseurs are already beginning to discoverthat the Lanun women, finding English yarn so cheap, are using it inpreference, though it renders the article much less durable. It is alsoworthy of notice that this cloth is dyed from indigo grown on the spot.These Ida’an purchase their supplies of cotton of the Inserban andTuhan Ida’an who live on the road to the lake, while the Bajus obtaintheirs from the Lobas near Maludu Bay. I saw one plant growing near thehut where we rested last night; it was about ten feet high, and coveredwith flowers.

They told us at Koung that the Ida’an were at war; but though they mayhave quarrels, they must[260] be trifling, as we met every day women andchildren by themselves at considerable distances from their houses.Besides, parties of a dozen men and boys of the supposed enemies passedus on their way to Tampasuk to trade, and in none of their villages didwe notice heads.

All these Ida’an appear to pay particular attention to the cultivationof the Kiladi (arum), planting it in their fields immediately aftergathering in the rice crop, and keeping it well weeded: they grow iteverywhere, and it must afford them abundance of food. It is in shapesomething like a beetroot, and has the flavour of a yam. Roasted in theashes, and brought smoking hot to table, torn open, and adding a littlebutter, pepper, and salt, it is very palatable, particularly amongthose hills.

Saduk bore N.E. and Kina Balu due E. from the southern portion of thevillage.

Started about seven in a S.E. by E. direction, ascending a hill onwhich the village of Labang Labang is situated: here occurred a scene.Mr. Low and I, with a few men, were walking ahead of the party; as wepassed the first house, an old woman came to the door, and uttered somesentences which struck us as sounding like a curse: however, we took nonotice; but as we approached the end of the village, we were hailed byan ugly-looking fellow, with an awful squint, who told us to stop, aswe should not pass through his village: this was evidently a preparedscene, the whole of the population turning out, armed: so we did stopto discuss the point. We asked what he meant: he answered that they hadnever had good crops since Mr. Low ascended the mountain in 1851,[261] andgave many other sapient reasons why we should not ascend it now; buthe wound up by saying that if we would pay a slave as black mail, theywould give us permission to pass and do as we pleased: this showed usthat nothing but extortion was intended; yet, to avoid any disagreeablediscussion, we offered to make him a present of forty yards of greyshirting; but this proposition was not listened to, and he and hispeople became very insolent in their manner.

We sent back one of the men to hurry up the stragglers, and in themeantime continued the discussion. They then said they would takeus up the mountain if we would start from their village; but beingunwilling to risk a disappointment, we declined. They remembered howthe Kiaus had turned back Mr. Lobb, because he would not submit totheir extortions, and thought they might do the same with us. As theIda’an were shaking their spears and giving other hostile signs, wethought it time to bring this affair to a climax; so I ordered the mento load their muskets, and Mr. Low, stepping up to the chief with hisfive-barrelled pistol, told the interpreter to explain that we werepeaceable travellers, most unwilling to enter into any contest; thatwe had obtained the permission of the Government of the country, andthat we were determined to proceed; that if they carried out theirthreats of violence, he would shoot five with his revolver, and thatI was prepared to do the same with mine; that they might, by superiornumbers, overcome us at last, but in the meantime we would make adesperate fight of it.

This closed the scene: as long as we had only[262] half a dozen with us,they were bullies; but as our forces began to arrive, and at lastamounted to fifty men, with twenty musket-barrels shining among them,they became as gentle as lambs, and said they would take two piecesof grey shirting; but we refused to give way, keeping to our originaloffer, and then only if the chief would follow us on our return, andreceive it at Tampasuk. We ordered the men to advance, and we wouldclose up the rear: no opposition was offered; on the contrary, thechief accompanied us on our road, and we had no more trouble with theLabang Labang people. We were detained forty minutes by this affair.Our guides explained the matter to us: when Mr. Low was here last time,many reports were spread of the riches which the Kiaus had obtainedfrom the white man, and they were jealous that the other branch oftheir tribe should obtain the wealth that was passing from them throughtheir village. The Koung people tried to persuade us last night tostart from their place, and as they were very civil we should haveliked to oblige them, but they were uncertain whether they could takeus to the summit. Mr. Lobb, when he reached Kiau, had but a smallparty, and was unarmed, so they would not allow him to pass, except onterms that were totally inadmissible.

Immediately after passing the village, we descended a steep andslippery path to one of the torrents into which the Tampasuk nowdivided. After crossing it, we were at the base of the spur on whichthe village of Kiau is situated. We passed several purling streamswhich descended, in a winding course, the face of the hill. From onespot in our walk, we had[263] a beautiful view of two valleys, cultivatedon both banks, with the foaming streams dashing among the rocks below.Over the landscape were scattered huts, which had the peculiarity ofbeing flat-roofed: the Kiaus using the bamboo as the Chinese use theirtiles, split in two; the canes are arranged side by side across thewhole roof, with their concave sides upwards to catch the rain; thena row placed convex to cover the edges of the others, and prevent thewater dropping through. They are quite water-tight, and afforded anexcellent hint for travellers where bamboos abound.

The latter portion of the road was difficult climbing, the claybeing slippery from last night’s rain; but as we approached ourresting-place, the walking became easier. Kiau is a large village onthe southern side of the spur. The houses scattered on its face areprettily concealed from each other by clumps of cocoa-nuts and bamboos.It covers a great extent of ground, but is badly placed, being morethan 800 feet above the torrent—that is, the portion of the village atwhich we stayed. The eastern end was nearer the stream. The inhabitantssupplied themselves with drinking-water from small rills which wereled in bamboos to most of their doors. We brought up about eleven, ourcourse being generally E.S.E. Thermometer 73° at twelve in the house.We felt it chilly, and took to warm clothing.

The Kiaus are much dirtier than any tribes I have seen in theneighbourhood: the children and women are unwashed, and most of themare troubled with colds, rendering them in every sense unpleasantneighbours. In fact, to use the words of an experienced[264] traveller,“they cannot afford to be clean,” their climate is chilly, and theyhave no suitable clothing. We observed that the features of many ofthese people were very like Chinese—perhaps a trace of that ancientkingdom of Celestials that tradition fixes to this neighbourhood. Theyall showed the greatest and most childlike curiosity at everythingeither we or our servants did.

In the afternoon, Lemaing, Mr. Low’s old guide, came in. Mr. Lowrecognized his voice immediately, though seven years had passed sincehe had heard it. Sir James Brooke has a most extraordinary facultyof remembering voices, as well as names, even of natives whom he hasonly seen once. It is very useful out here, and I have often found theawkwardness which arises from my quickly forgetting both voices andnames.

Shortly after Lemaing’s arrival, a dispute arose between him andLemoung, the chief of the house in which we were resting: both voicesgrew excited; at last, they jumped up, and each spat upon the floorin a paroxysm of mutual defiance: here we interposed to preserve thepeace, and calm being restored, it was found that seven years ago theyhad disputed about the division of Mr. Low’s goods, and the quarrelhad continued ever since—the whole amount being five dollars. Lemoungsaid that his house had been burnt down in consequence of the white manascending Kina Balu, and that no good crops of rice had grown since;but it was all envy; he thought in the distribution he had not secureda fair share. We asked if he had ascended the mountain; he said no, buthis son had brought some rice, for which, on[265] inquiry, we found he hadbeen paid. Drizzling rain the whole afternoon.

The thermometer registered 66° last night, and we enjoyed our sleepunder blankets. At midday, we took out the barometer from its case,and found, to our inexpressible vexation, that it was utterly smashed.This will destroy half the pleasure of the ascent; in fact, ourspirits are somewhat depressed by the accident, and by Mr. Low’s feetgetting worse. At twelve, thermometer 77°. (The lamentable accident sodisgusted me that I find no further entry in that day’s journal, buta pencilled note remarks that the Ida’an preserve their rice in oldbamboos two fathoms long, which are placed on one side of the doorway.It is said that these bamboos are preserved for generations, and, infact, they looked exceedingly ancient.)

Last night, thermometer 69°. At early dawn, we heard the war-drumsbeating in several houses, and shouts and yells from the boys. Theysaid it was a fête day, but we rightly guessed it had something todo with our expedition. For some time, our guide did not make hisappearance, and a few young fellows on the hill over the village threwstones as we appeared at the door—a very harmless demonstration, asthey were several hundred yards off—but discharging and cleaning arevolver lessened the amount of hostile shouting. About nine, the guidemade his appearance; the women seemed to enjoy the scene, and followedus to witness the skirmish; but the enemy, if there were an enemy, didnot show, and the promised ambush came to nothing—it was but a trickof Lemoung to try and disgust Lemaing, and frighten[266] us by the beatingof drums and shouting. At the place where we were assured an attackwould be made, we found but a few harmless women carrying tobacco.

Our path lay along the side of the hill in which the village stands,we followed it about four miles in an easterly direction, and thendescended to a torrent, one of the feeders of the Tampasuk, where wedetermined to spend the night, as Mr. Low’s feet were becoming veryswollen and painful, and it was as well to collect the party. We hadpassed through considerable fields of sweet potatoes, kiladi, andtobacco, where the path was crossed occasionally by cool rills from themountains. We enjoyed the cold water very much, and had a delightfulbath. The torrent comes tumbling down, and forms many fine cascades.Mr. Low botanized a little, notwithstanding his feet were suppurating.The hut in which we spent the night was very pretty-looking,flat-roofed, built entirely of bamboos.

To-day, we had a specimen of the thieving of our Ida’an followers.One man was caught burying a tin of sardines; another stole a Bolognasausage, for which, when hungry, I remembered him, and another a fowl.

Next morning, Mr. Low found it impossible to walk, and I was thereforeobliged to start without him. We showed our perfect confidence in thevillagers of Kiau by dividing our party, leaving only four men withMr. Low to take care of the arms; we carried with us up the mountainnothing but our swords and one revolver. They must have thought us amost extraordinary people; but we[267] knew that their demonstrations ofhostility were really harmless, and more aimed against each other thanagainst us. Probably, had we appeared afraid, it might have been adifferent matter.

Our course was at first nearly east up the sub-spur of a greatbuttress. The walking was severe, from the constant and abrupt ascentsand descents, and the narrowness of the path when it ran along thesides of the hill, where it was but the breadth of the foot. At oneplace we had a view of a magnificent cascade. The stream that runs bythe cave, which is to be one of our resting-places, falls over therocks forming minor cascades; then coming to the edge of the precipice,throws itself over, and in its descent of above fifteen hundred feetappears to diffuse itself in foam, ere it is lost in the depths of thedark-wooded ravines below.

I soon found I had made a great mistake in permitting these activemountaineers to lead the way at their own pace, as before twelveo’clock I was left alone with them, all my men being far behind, asthey were totally unaccustomed to the work. Arriving at a littlefoaming rivulet, I sat down and waited for the rest of the party, andwhen they came up, they appeared so exhausted that I had compassionon them, and agreed to spend the night here. The Ida’an were verydissatisfied, and declared they would not accompany us, if we intendedto make such short journeys; but we assured them that we would goon alone if they left us, and not pay them the stipulated price forleading us to the summit. I soon set the men to work to build a hutof long poles, over which we could stretch our oiled cloths, and tomake a raised floor to secure us[268] from being wet through by the dampmoss and heavy rain that would surely fall during the night. At threeP.M. the thermometer fell to 65°, which to the children of theplain rendered the air unpleasantly cold; but we worked hard to collectboughs and leaves to make our beds soft; and wood was eagerly soughtfor to make fires in the holes beneath our raised floor. This filledthe place with smoke, but gave some warmth to the men.

The Ida’an again tried to get back, but I would not receive theirexcuse that they would be up early in the morning: they then sethard at work going through incantations to drive away sickness. Theguide Lemaing carried an enormous bundle of charms, and on him fellthe duty of praying or repeating some forms: he was at it two hoursby my watch. To discover what he said, or the real object to whom headdressed himself, was almost impossible through the medium of our badinterpreters. I could hear him repeating my name, and they said he wassoliciting the spirits of the mountain to favour us.

The thermometer registered 57° last night in tent. Started at seven; Iobserved a fine yellow sweet-scented rhododendron on a decayed tree,and requested my men on their return to take it to Mr. Low; continuingthe ascent, after an hour’s tough walking, reached the top of theridge. There it was better for a short time; but the forest, heavilyhung with moss, is exposed to the full force of the south-west monsoon,and the trees are bent across the path, leaving occasionally onlysufficient space to crawl through. We soon came upon the magnificentpitcher-plant, the Nepenthes Lowii, that Mr. Low[269] was anxiousto get. We could find no young plants, but took cuttings, which thenatives said would grow.

We stopped to breakfast at a little swampy spot, where the trees arebecoming very stunted, though in positions protected from the windsthey grow to a great height. Continuing our course, we came upon ajungle that appeared to be composed almost entirely of rhododendrons,some with beautiful pink, crimson, and yellow flowers. I sat near onefor about half an hour apparently in intense admiration, but, in fact,very tired, and breathless, and anxious about my followers, only one ofwhom had kept up with me.

Finding it useless to wait longer, as the mist was beginning to rolldown from the summit, and the white plain of clouds below appearedrising, I pushed on to the cave, which we intended to occupy. It wasa huge granite boulder, resting on the hill side, that shelteredus but imperfectly from the cold wind. The Ida’an, during the day,amused themselves in trying to secure some small twittering birds,which looked like canaries, with a green tint on the edges of theirwings, but were unsuccessful. They shot innumerable pellets from theirblowpipes, but did not secure one. In fact, they did not appear to usethis instrument with any skill.

At four o’clock the temperature of the air was 52°, and of the water48°.

Some of my men did not reach us till after dark, and it was with greatdifficulty that I could induce the Malays to exert themselves toerect the oiled cloths, to close the mouth of the cave, and procuresufficient firewood. They appeared paralyzed by the cold, and wereunwilling to move.

[270]

During the night, the thermometer at the entrance of the cave fell to36° 5´; and on my going out to have a look at the night-scene, all thebushes and trees appeared fringed with hoar frost.

After breakfasting at the cave, we started for the summit. Our courselay at first through a thick low jungle, full of rhododendrons; itthen changed into a stunted brushwood, that almost hid the rarely-usedpath; gradually the shrubs gave way to rocks, and then we commenced ourascent over the naked granite. A glance upwards from the spot wherewe first left the jungle, reveals a striking scene—a face of granitesweeping steeply up for above 3,000 feet to a rugged edge of pointedrocks; while on the farthest left the southern peak looked from thisview a rounded mass. Here and there small runnels of water passed overthe granite surface, and patches of brushwood occupied the shelterednooks. The rocks were often at an angle of nearly forty degrees, sothat I was forced to ascend them, at first, with woollen socks, andwhen they were worn through, with bare feet. It was a sad alternative,as the rough stone wore away the skin and left a bleeding and tendersurface.

After hard work, we reached the spot where Mr. Low had left a bottle,and found it intact—the writing in it was not read, as I returned itunopened to its resting-place.

Low’s Gully is one of the most singular spots in the summit. We ascendan abrupt ravine, with towering perpendicular rocks on either side,till a rough natural wall bars the way. Climbing on this, you look overa deep chasm, surrounded on three sides by precipices, so deep thatthe eye could not reach[271] the bottom; but the twitter of innumerableswallows could be distinctly heard, as they flew in flocks below. Therewas no descending here: it was a sheer precipice of several thousandfeet, and this was the deep fissure pointed out to me by Mr. Low fromthe cocoa-nut grove on the banks of the Tampasuk when we were recliningthere, and proved that he had remembered the very spot where he hadleft the bottle.

I was now anxious to reach one of those peaks which are visiblefrom the sea; so we descended Low’s Gully, through a thicket ofrhododendrons, bearing a beautiful blood-coloured flower, and made ourway to the westward. It was rough walking at first, while we continuedto skirt the rocky ridge that rose to our right; but gradually leavingthis, we advanced up an incline composed entirely of immense slabs ofgranite, and reaching the top, found a noble terrace, half a mile inlength, whose sides sloped at an angle of thirty degrees on eitherside. The ends were the Southern Peak and a huge cyclopean wall.

I followed the guides to the former, and after a slippery ascent,reached the summit. I have mentioned that this peak has a roundedaspect when viewed from the eastward; but from the northward it appearsto rise sharply to a point; and when with great circ*mspection Icrawled up, I found myself on a granite point, not three feet in width,with but a water-worn way a few inches broad to rest on, and prevent myslipping over the sloping edges.

During the climbing to-day, I suffered slightly from shortness ofbreath, and felt some disinclination[272] to bodily exertion; but as soonas I sat down on this lofty point, it left me, and a feeling came on asif the air rendered me buoyant and made me long to float away.

Calmly seated here, I first turned my attention to the other peaks,which stretched in a curved line from east to west, and was rathermortified to find that the most westerly and another to the eastappeared higher than where I sat, but certainly not more than a hundredfeet. The guides called this the mother of the mountain, but herchildren may have outgrown her. Turning to the south-west, I could butobtain glimpses of the country, as many thousand feet below masses ofclouds passed continually over the scene, giving us but a partial viewof sea, and rivers, and hills. One thing immediately drew my attention,and that was a very lofty peak towering above the clouds, bearing S. ½E. It appeared to be an immense distance off, and I thought it mightbe the great mountain of Lawi, of which I went in search some monthslater; but it must be one much farther to the eastward, and may be thesummit of Tilong, which, as I have before mentioned, some declare to bemuch more lofty than Balu itself.

Immediately below me, the granite for a thousand feet sloped sharplydown to the edge of that lofty precipice that faces the valley ofPinokok to the south-west. I felt a little nervous while we werepassing along this to reach the southern peak, as on Mr. Low’s formerexpedition a Malay had slipped at a less formidable spot, and beenhurried down the steep incline at a pace that prevented any hope ofhis arresting his own progress, when leaning on his side his krisfortunately[273] entered a slight cleft, and arrested him on the verge of aprecipice.

Among the detached rocks and in the crevices grew a kind of moss, onwhich the Ida’an guides declared the spirits of their ancestors fed. Agrass also was pointed out that served for the support of the ghostlybuffaloes which always followed their masters to the other world. As aproof, the print of a foot was shown me as that of a young buffalo; itwas not very distinct, but appeared more like the impression left by agoat or deer.

Our guides became very nervous as the clouds rose and now occasionallytopped the precipice, and broke, and swept up the slopes, envelopingus. They urged me to return; I saw it was necessary, and complied, asthe wind was rising, and the path we were to follow was hidden in mist.

We found the air pleasantly warm and very invigorating; the thermometermarked 62° in the shade; and as we perceived little rills of wateroozing from among the granite rocks, the summit would prove a muchbetter encamping ground than our cold cave, where the sun neverpenetrates. The Ida’an, however, feared to spend one night in thisabode of spirits, and declined carrying my luggage.

Our return was rather difficult, as the misty rain rendered the rocksslippery, but we all reached the cave in safety. Here I received a notefrom Mr. Low, but he was still unable to walk. The bathing water was49°.

During the night the temperature fell, and the registering thermometermarked 41°. My feet were so injured by yesterday’s walking that I wasunable to[274] reascend the mountain to collect plants and flowers, sosent my head man Musa with a large party. I, however, strolled about alittle to look for seeds and a sunny spot, as the ravine in which ourtemporary home was, chilled me through. I was continually envelopedin mist, and heard afterwards to my regret that the summit was clear,and that all the surrounding country lay exposed to view. The low,tangled jungle was too thick to admit of our seeing much. I climbedthe strongest and highest trees there, but could only get glimpses ofdistant hills.

Thermometer during the night, 43°, while in the cave yesterday itmarked 56° at two o’clock.

Started early to commence our descent, collecting a few plants on ourway; the first part of the walking is tolerably good—in fact, as faras the spot where we rested for breakfast on our ascent. It is inappearance a series of mighty steps. Passed on the wayside innumerablespecimens of that curious pitcher-plant the Nepenthes villosa,with serrated lips.

After leaving the great steps, our course was along the edge ofa ridge, where the path is extremely narrow; in fact, in two orthree places not above eighteen inches wide—a foot of it servingas parapet, six inches of sloping rock forming the path. From oneof these craggy spots a noble landscape is spread before us, eightymiles of coast-line, with all the intervening country being visibleat once. With one or two exceptions, plains skirt the sea-shore, thenan undulating country, gradually rising to ranges varying from two tothree thousand feet, with glimpses of silvery streams flowing amongthem. The waters of the Mengkabong[275] and Sulaman, swelling to theproportions of lakes, add a diversity to the scene.

It is fortunate that the ridge is not often so narrow as at thesespots; for on one side there is a sheer descent of fifteen hundredfeet, and on the other is very perpendicular-ground, but wooded. Twodecaying rocks that obstruct the path are also dangerous to pass, aswe had to round them, with uncertain footing, and nothing but a bare,crumbling surface to grasp. With the exception of these, the pathis not difficult or tiring, until we leave the ridge and descend tothe right towards the valleys: then it is steep, slippery, and veryfatiguing, and this continues for several miles, until we have loweredthe level nearly four thousand feet. The path, in fact, is as vile aspath can be.

By the time I reached the hut where I had left Mr. Low, I feltcompletely exhausted; but a little rest, a glass of brandy-and-water,and a bathe in the dashing torrent that foamed among the rocks at ourfeet, thoroughly restored me. The water here felt pleasant after thebitter cold of that near the cave. My companion had employed his timecollecting plants, though his feet were not at all better.

Next morning we manufactured a kind of litter, on which Mr. Low was tobe carried, and then started along a path that skirted the banks of theKalupis, that flows beneath the village, and is, in fact, the source ofthe Tampasuk. We passed through several fields of tobacco, as well asof yams and kiladis; the first is carefully cultivated, and not a weedwas to be observed among the plants. Leaving the water, we pushed upthe steep bank to the lower houses of the[276] village, and made our way onto Lemoung’s, to reach it just as a drenching shower came on.

Here we found one of our Baju guides, who had been sent back toconstruct rafts for the return voyage. I was not sorry to find thatsome had been prepared, as it appeared otherwise necessary that Mr. Lowshould be carried the whole way.

The villagers said they were at war even during the time we were attheir houses with a neighbouring tribe, which induces them to bear armswherever they may go; but the whole affair must be very trifling, asthey sleep at their farms, and we saw, totally unprotected, troops ofgirls and women at work in the fields.

We thought it better to make some complaints of the dishonesty shown,before we ascended the mountain; they were profuse in apologies, butthey had evidently enjoyed the sausage.

We spent the afternoon and evening in settling all claims againstus, and having completed that work, ordered the rest of our baggageto be packed up ready for an early start next morning. Among theundistributed goods was about twenty pounds weight of thick brasswire. While I was away bathing, Lemaing coolly walked off with it; buton my return Mr. Low informed me of what had occurred. Knowing thatif we permitted this to pass unnoticed, it would be a signal for ageneral plunder, we determined to recover the wire. As Mr. Low couldnot move, I went by myself in search of Lemaing, and soon heard hisvoice speaking loudly in the centre of a dense crowd of the villagers.I forced my way through, and found him seated, with the brass wire inhis[277] hand, evidently pointing out its beauty to an admiring audience.I am afraid I very much disconcerted him, as with one hand I tore theprize from his grasp, and with the other put a revolver to his head,and told him to beware of meddling with our baggage. I never saw a lookof greater astonishment; he tried to speak, but the words would notcome, and the crowd opening, I bore back the trophy to our end of thevillage house.

The Bajus told us we should find the Ida’an of the plains dishonest,while those of the hills had the contrary reputation. We lost nothingin the plains; here we had to guard carefully against pilferers.

We noticed that as we gradually receded from the sea, the clothing ofthe inhabitants became less—on the plains all the Ida’an wore trousersand jackets; at Koung and Kiau very few, and we were assured that thosein the interior wore nothing but bark waist-cloths.

An incident occurred the evening before our departure, which showedhow the Ida’an distrust each other. Among the goods we paid to ourguides were twenty fathoms of thick brass wire; the coils were put downbefore them; they talked over it for two hours, and could not settleeither the division, or who should take care of it until morning; atlength one by one all retired and left the wire before us, the last manpushing it towards Musa, asking him to take charge of it. Not relishingthis trust, he carried it to Li Moung’s house, and placing it in themidst of the crowd, left it, and they then quarrelled over it tillmorning.

We thought last night every claim had been settled,[278] but this morningthey commenced again, anxious to prevent any goods leaving theirvillage. We ourselves did not care to take back to our pinnace anythingthat was not necessary to enable us to pay our way. We made liberaloffers to them if they would carry Mr. Low to the next village, butthey positively refused to assist us farther. We therefore collectedour Malays outside the place, and prepared to start; and were on thepoint of doing so, when shouts in the village house attracted ourattention, and a man ran out to say that they were plundering thebaggage left in charge of the Buñgol Ida’an. As this consisted of ourclothes and cooking utensils, it was not to be borne, and I ran backinto the house, where I found a couple of hundred men surrounding ourIda’an followers and undoing the packages; they were startled by thesight of my rifle, and when they heard the rush caused by the advanceof Mr. Low and our Malays, they fled to the end of the house, and soondisappeared through the opposite door. The panic seemed to cause thegreatest amusem*nt to the girls of this house, who talked and laughed,and patted us on the shoulders, and appeared to delight in the rapidflight of their countrymen. None of their own relatives, however, hadjoined in the affair.

Mr. Low’s rapid advance to my support surprised me; but I found thatwith the assistance of a servant he had hopped the whole of the way,revolver in hand. Our men behaved with remarkable resolution, and wouldhave driven off the whole village had it been necessary. One Malay gotso excited, that he commenced a war dance, and had we not instantlyinterfered, would have worked himself up to run a[279] muck among theIda’an. Though we wished to frighten them into honesty towards us, wewere most anxious that not the slightest wound should be given, and Imay here remark, that in none of our journeys have we ever found itnecessary to use our weapons against the inhabitants. We discoveredthat showing ourselves prepared to fight, if necessary, prevented itsbeing ever necessary to fight.

We pushed on to Koung by a path that led below Labang Labang, Mr. Lowsuffering severely from the necessity of having to walk six miles overstony country with suppurating feet.

At Koung we vainly endeavoured to obtain a buffalo, on which Mr. Lowmight ride; but the villagers showed no inclination to assist. So nextmorning we pushed on through heavy rain to the village of Tambatuan,where the Tampasuk becomes a little more fit for rafts. I was glad tosee Mr. Low safely there, and then, as the rafts would not hold us all,I walked on with the men. The heavy rain had caused the river to swell,and the walking and the fording were doubly difficult, but we continuedour course, and in two days reached the village of Ginambur, andjoining Mr. Low on the raft, pursued our journey to the Datu’s house.

Next day to the Abai; but contrary winds prevented our reaching Labuanfor five days.

We were not quite satisfied with the results of this expedition,and determined to start again, but choosing another route, the samefollowed by Mr. Low in 1851.

Cholera in Brunei—Start from Labuan—Coal Seams—View ofTanjong Kubong—Method of working the Coal—Red Land—Methodof cultivating Pepper—Wild Cattle—The Pinnace—KimanisBay—Inland Passage—Kimanis River—Cassia—Trade in itstopped—Smooth River—My first View of Kina Balu—Storyof the Death of Pangeran Usup—Anchor—Papar—ASquall—Reach Gaya Bay—Noble Harbour—Pangeran Madoud—Myfirst Visits to him—Method of making Salt—Village ofMenggatal—Ida’an—His Fear of them—Roman CatholicMission—Cholera—Mengkabong—Manilla Captives—The Salt-waterLake—Head-quarters of the Bajus—Their Enterprise—FindStranded Vessels—Tripod Masts—Balignini Pirates—TheirHaunts—Spanish Attack—Great Slaughter—Savage-lookingMen—Great Tree—Unreasoning Retaliation—Energy of M.Cuarteron—Lawlessness of the Bajus—Pangeran Duroup,the Governor—Anecdote of a drifting Canoe—InhospitableCustom—Origin of the Bajus—Welcome by PangeranSirail—Love of Whiskey overcomes Prejudice—NightWeeping—A Market—The Datu of Tamparuli—The Pangeran’sEnthusiasm—Path to the Tawaran—Fine Scene—FruitGroves—Neat Gardens—The Tawaran—Sacred Jars—The TalkingJar—Attempted Explanation—Efficacy of the Water—Carletti’sAccount—Fabulous Value—The Loveliest Girl in Borneo—NoRice—Advance to Bawang—Our Guides—Steep Hill—ExtensiveView—Si Nilau—Unceremonious Entry into a House—TheNilau Tribe—Kalawat Village—Tiring Walk—Desertion of aNegro—Numerous Villages—Bungol Village Large—Deceivedby the Guide—Fatiguing Walk—Koung Village—BlackMail—Explanation—Friendly Relations established—LabangLabang Village—Change of Treatment—Kiau Village—WarmReception—Houses—No Rice—Confidence.

In June, 1858, the cholera which had been slowly advancing towards usfrom the south, suddenly burst[281] upon Brunei with extreme violence,and laid the city in mourning. From day to day the deaths increasedin number; every house flew white streamers, which showed cholera wasthere present; pious processions paraded the town, the mosques werecrowded, all merriment at an end, though religious chants were heardfrom every boat; there was fear, but no panic, and the sick were caredfor by their relations. The deaths were awfully sudden, one of myservants at work at five, was dead by eleven. My house was crowded byanxious parents seeking medicine, which was soon all distributed, andno one thought of business, attention being only given to this fearfulscourge.

Mr. Low and I had determined to make another attempt to ascend KinaBalu in August, but fearing that if the cholera spread along the coastbefore we reached our point of debarkation, the Dusuns and Ida’an mightprevent our passing through their villages, we resolved to anticipatethe appointed time, and sailed from Labuan early in July, and in a fewhours passed Tanjong Kubong, near the northern point of the island,where the best coal seams are situated. The view from the sea is verypicturesque: two hills, grass-covered, with the dark outlines of theforest in the rear, and a valley between, sloping upwards, showing,at one glance, the works of the coal company. On a bold rocky bluffis the manager’s house, overlooking the open sea, with a clear viewof the great mountain. It is to be regretted that there is no goodanchorage in the north-east monsoon off this point, as it necessitatesa railway of seven miles being carried through the island to thesplendid[282] harbour of Victoria. However, should this work be undertaken,it is very possible it may be the means of opening out the other veinswhich are known to exist in the centre of the island. The coal seamsof Tanjong Kubong are perhaps as fine as any in the world; and it isprobable that the failures in developing them have arisen from applyingthe same means of working the mine as are used in England, forgettingthat the fall of rain is four times as great. Labuan ought to supplyall the farther East with coal, and may yet do so, under judiciousmanagement.

Passing on, we steered clear of the Pine shoals, and directed ourcourse to Pulo Tiga, an island so called from the three undulatinghills that form its surface. It is quite uninhabited, exceptoccasionally by a few fishermen or traders, seeking water there. Onits broad sandy beaches turtle are said to congregate, and here wehave picked up some very pretty shells, particularly olives. The coastbetween Labuan and Nosong point, at the entrance of Kimanis Bay,consists of low hills only partly cleared. At one place there are somebluff, red-looking points called Tanah Merah, or Red Land, and near itare many villages of Bisayas, who are engaged in planting pepper. Theirgardens are said to be very neatly kept, and the system, which hasdescended to them from the former Chinese cultivators, is far superiorto that pursued in Sumatra. There the Malays allow the vines to twineround the quick-growing Chingkariang tree, whose roots must necessarilyabsorb much of the nourishment; but here they plant them in openground, and train them up iron-wood posts, thus preserving to them[283] allthe benefit of the manure they may apply to enrich the soil. Althoughthe Bisayas are not careful cultivators, yet they prepare heaps ofburnt earth and decaying weeds to place round the stems of the vinesbefore they commence flowering.

Along this beach, herds of wild cattle are often seen wandering,particularly on bright moonlight nights, in search, most probably, ofsalt, which they are so fond of licking. All the natives declare thatthe species found here is smaller than those monsters I saw up theLimbang and Baram. It is very likely there may be two kinds.

A pleasant S.W. breeze carried us rapidly along this coast. Our craft,though not famous for its sailing qualities, ran well before the wind.It was a small yacht, belonging to the Eastern Archipelago Company, thesame which we used when we went to Abai in the spring. Dr. Coulthardhad put himself to some inconvenience in lending it to us, as he wasobliged to content himself with a native-built boat of mine, that wascalled by the ominous name of the “Coffin,” and on one occasion nearlyproved to be one to the obliging doctor. I myself had great faith inthat boat, as it had taken me safely through many a hard blow.

Rounding Nosong Point, we crossed the broad Bay of Kimanis, which hereruns deep into the land, and receives the waters of numerous rivers.Just round the point is Qualla Lama, or the Old Mouth: entering this,a large boat can pass through an inner channel, and reach the mouth ofthe Kalias, opposite Labuan. It is often used by the Malays to avoidthe heavy sea, which, during the height of the south-west[284] monsoon,breaks upon this coast. The shores of Kimanis Bay are rather low,yet have an interesting appearance, from the variety of tints to beobserved among the vegetation.

There runs into this bay a pretty little river of the samename—Kimanis, from kayu manis, “sweetwood.” Its forests arefamous for the large amount of cassia bark which used to be collectedthere, but which has now all been exhausted near the banks by thecontinued requisitions from the capital. This district is the appanageof one of the sons of the late Sultan, the Pañgeran Tumanggong, andhe used every year to send up several trading prahus to be loadedwith cassia,—paying to the aborigines tenpence for every 133 lbs.,and selling the same amount for nine shillings. As long as the barkcould be easily obtained from the trees near the banks of the river,the people were content to work for the low price; but as soon as itrequired a long walk from their villages, the Muruts declared thewhole forest was exhausted. I am assured, however, by trustworthy men,that ship-loads might be obtained, if the aborigines were offered fairprices; but the noble and his followers do their utmost to preserve astrict monopoly. And this is the case in most of the districts near thecapital. Though they cannot themselves obtain much from the people,they have still sufficient influence to paralyze trade.

Kimanis, like most of the other rivers north of Labuan, is obstructedby a bar; in fact, though I could see its mouth from my boat, yet Icould not find the channel, till a Malay canoe led the way by coastingsouth about three hundred yards: then,[285] pulling straight for the shoreover the boiling surf, we soon found ourselves in the smooth river. Thescenery, though not grand, is very lovely, and consists generally ofthe variety to be observed in the groves of cocoa-nuts and fruit-treeswhich line its banks, and the cultivated fields stretching inland. Ialways remember my visit to Kimanis with pleasure, as it was on turninga wooded point I had my first view of Kina Balu. A straight reach ofthe river stretched before us, overshadowed on either side by loftytrees, and the centre of the picture was the precipices and summit ofthe massive mountain.

On the left-hand bank is the grave of Pañgeran Usup, who, flyingfrom the capital, met his death, under orders from the Government,at the hand of the chief of this river. I have heard the story toldseveral ways, but the one the Orang Kaya relates himself is a curiousillustration of Bornean manners. The Pañgeran, flying from his enemiesin the capital, came to Kimanis, which was one of his appanages, andasked its local chief whether he would protect him. The Orang Kayaprotested his loyalty, but, a few days after, receiving an order fromthe Government to seize and put his guest to death, he made up hismind to execute it. He imparted the secret to three of his relations,whom he instructed to assist him. Pañgeran Usup was a dangerous manwith whom to meddle, as he was accompanied by a devoted brother, whokept watch over him as he slept or bathed, and who received the samekind offices when he desired to rest. For days the Orang Kaya watchedan opportunity—tending on his liege lord, holding his clothes whilehe bathed, bringing his[286] food, but never able to surprise him, as heor his brother were always watching with a drawn kris in his hand.The three relations sat continually on the mats near, in the mostrespectful attitude. The patience of the Malay would have carried himthrough a more difficult trial than this, as I think it was on thetenth day Pañgeran Usup, while standing on the wharf, watching hisbrother bathe, called for a light. The Orang Kaya brought a large pieceof firewood with very little burning charcoal on it, and the noble invain endeavoured to light his cigar. At last, in his impatience, he putdown his kris, and took the wood in his own hand. A fatal mistake! Thetreacherous friend immediately threw his arms round the Pañgeran, andthe three watchers, springing up, soon secured the unarmed brother.Usup was immediately taken to the back of the house, and executed andburied on the hill, where his grave was pointed out to me.

We continued our voyage along the coast till about four in theafternoon, when heavy clouds rising in the south-west warned us that asquall was coming up. We, therefore, resolved to take shelter under thelittle islet of Dinaman, to the north of the Papar River. At first, wethought of running in there, as I had not yet seen this district, sofamous for the extent and beauty of its cocoa-nut groves, and for thenumerous population which had rendered the river’s banks a successionof gardens.

Our anchorage sheltered us tolerably well from the storm which nowburst over us, but we rolled heavily as the swell of the sea came in.Drenching rain and furious blasts generally pass away quickly, as they[287]did that evening, and left us to enjoy the quiet, starlight night.

We always endeavour to start on an expedition a few days before fullmoon, having a theory that the weather is more likely to be fine then,than during the days which immediately follow a new moon.

Next morning we set sail for Gaya Bay, and in a few hours a lightbreeze carried us over a rippling sea to the deep entrance of thisspacious harbour, in which all the navy of England could, in bothmonsoons, ride in safety. It is formed by numerous islands and anextended headland, which make it appear almost land-locked. The harbouris surrounded by low hills, some cleared at the top, presenting prettygreen patches, others varied with bright tints, caused by exposed redsandstone; the rest covered with low thick jungle.

When I last visited this place, Pañgeran Madoud lived up the Kabatuanriver, which flows into the bay, but had now removed to the shore, andestablished there a village called Gantisan. I had twice visited thisMalay chief, and on both occasions had disagreeable news to impart tohim, as I had to remonstrate against his system of taking goods fromEnglish traders and forgetting to pay them when the price became due.The banks of the Kabatuan, except near the entrance, were entirelyof mangrove-swamp, until we arrived within a short distance of thescattered village of Menggatal, but from our boat we could see thesloping hills that rose almost immediately behind the belt of mangrove.

The first buildings we saw were those in which the natives were makingsalt. I have already described[288] the process pursued in the Abai,but here it was somewhat different, as they burnt the roots of themangrove with those of the nipa palm, as well as wood collected on thesea-beach, and therefore impregnated with salt. In one place, I noticeda heap, perhaps fifteen feet in height, sheltered by a rough coveringof palm-leaves, and several men were about checking all attempts of theflames to burst through by throwing salt-water over the pile. This,doubtless, renders the process much more productive. In one very largeshed, they had a kind of rough furnace, where they burnt the wood; andsuspended around were many baskets in which the rough remains of thefire are placed, and the whole then soaked in water and stirred abouttill the salt is supposed to have been extracted from the charcoaland ashes. The liquid is then boiled, as at Abai, in large iron panspurchased from the Chinese.

The village of Menggatal contained about a hundred houses scatteredamong the trees, and in the centre was the residence of PañgeranMadoud, tolerably well built of thick posts and plank walls. We foundchairs and tables had already penetrated to this secluded spot, andthe Pañgeran was not a little proud of being able to receive us inEuropean fashion. He was at the period of our first visit about forty,tall, and with rather a pleasant, quiet countenance; but having littlestrength of character, was willing to enter into intercourse with thepirates, if by so doing he could gain anything. He had, in fact, justpurchased from them a trading prahu, which they had captured north ofLabuan, after having killed two of the Bornean crew, who were his[289] owncountrymen. Like all the other chiefs, he attempts to monopolize thetrade of his district, and thus reduces it to a minimum.

While we were conversing, there came in a party of the Ida’an, whoseyoung chief had a very intelligent countenance, broad-shouldered, withhis waist drawn in as tightly as he could; over his breast he worestrings of cowrie shells, and round his loins neatly-worked rattanrings, and on his neck a brass collar open at the side, enabling himto take it off with ease. Their baskets were filled with hill tobaccofor the Pañgeran, who is said subsequently to have so oppressed theneighbouring villages of Ida’an, that they threatened to attack him,and being rather timid, he retired before the storm. Building theirhouses at Gantisan on freshly cleared jungle, the Malays sufferedseverely from fever; the whole population is said to have beenattacked, of whom many died.

We found anchored at Lokporin, in the north-west part of the bay, aSpanish brig, belonging to Monsieur Cuarteron, the Prefect Apostolicof the newly-arrived Roman Catholic mission. He had built a hut and achapel of palm stems and leaves, as a commencement of what he hopedwould be a prosperous mission; but he had his attention too muchdirected to temporal, to take proper care of spiritual affairs.[16]

We paid a visit to the Chief Pañgeran Madoud and settled to leave ourpinnace under his care, and start next morning, as the cholera hadalready invaded this place, and eight deaths were reported.

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Having distributed our luggage among our followers, we landed andwalked over to the waters of the Mengkabong, a low ridge onlyseparating them; from it we had a good view of this extensive saltlake, filled with islands, and on the inland side bordered by hills.At the landing-place we met the nominal ruler of Mengkabong, PañgeranDuroup, who had kindly provided canoes to take us to the point whereour walking journey would commence. We stopped to breakfast at hishouse, and Monsieur Cuarteron, who was with us, pointed out anintelligent lad, the son of Duroup, whom he intended to raise to powerover the surrounding countries, and be himself the boy’s Prime Minister.

A Spaniard has many temptations to intrigue in these districts, asthere are here numerous inhabitants of the Philippines, originallycaptured by the Lanun and Balignini pirates, and sold into slavery.They have married and intermarried with the inhabitants, and forminga part of the regular population, are most unwilling to leave thecountry. Some have risen to respectable positions, and nearly all haveturned Mahomedans. Still they have a respect and a fear of the Spanishpriests, and are much open to their secular influence, though very fewwill re-enter the Roman Church. As might be expected, the priest’spolitical intrigues did no good, but, instead, diffused suspicion anddislike among the natives.

We started again after breakfast, and passed the entrance from thesea, through the chief town, and by the numerous villages scatteredabout. Nearly all the houses are built on the water. We estimated thepopulation at above 6,000. A glance at the[291] accompanying map willexplain the kind of place Mengkabong is, but I may observe that thissalt-water creek or lake is very shallow, in many places dry, or but afew inches deep at dead low-water, so that it must be rapidly fillingup, and all the plains skirting the sea had probably a similar origin.To the south and south-east it is surrounded by hills, none of whichexceeds eight hundred feet in height.

Mengkabong is the head-quarters of the Bajus on the north-western coastof Borneo; and being the only population to be found in the villagesscattered over the lake, they are more tempted to pursue their oldhabits than those of the northern rivers, who have the Lanuns betweenthem and the sea. They are bold seamen, and will venture anywhere insearch of wealth. When the Fiery Cross was wrecked on a shoalfar out in the China Seas, the captain and crew made for Labuan. Thenews soon spread along the coast that a ship with a valuable cargowas on shore, and a small squadron of native prahus was immediatelyfitted out at Mengkabong to look for her. They boldly put forth tosea, visiting all the reefs with which they were acquainted, and evenpushing their researches so far as to sight the coast of Cochin China,known to the Malays under the name of Annam. Their exertions were forthem unfortunately unavailing; but they often pick up a prize, as whena Bombay cotton ship was wrecked at Meñgalong; and during the lastChina war, they found a large French vessel deserted on a reef to thenorth of Borneo, but which, to their infinite disgust, proved to haveonly a cargo of coals. The Baju prahus may generally be known by theirtripod masts, which consist[292] of three tall bamboos, the two foremostfitted on a cross beam, the last loose; so that when a heavy squallthreatens, they can immediately strike their masts. Their sails are nothandsome; for being stuck out on one side, they look ungainly.

I have mentioned, in my account of our first expedition to Kina Balu,the Baju attack on a village in Banguey; they themselves often sufferfrom the fleets of Balignini pirates, who return home from theircruises in Dutch waters along the north-west coast of Borneo, and pickup the fishermen they find at sea. During the last few years they haveseldom appeared off the coast more than once during a season, and thenonly touching at Sirik Point, and afterwards giving our colony ofLabuan a wide berth, to fetch the coast again about Pulo Tiga.

The Balignini used to be the terror of the Indian isles, but theirpursuits have been interfered with and their gains much curtailed sincethe introduction of steamers into the Archipelago. The Spaniards, withheavy loss to themselves, drove them from their haunts on the islandsof Tongkil and Balignini in the Sulu Archipelago, since which timethey have never again assembled in positions so strong. These twosmall islands are low, surrounded with mangrove swamps, and appearvery similar to the eighteen others we could count at the same timefrom the deck of a ship. But behind the swamps were erected formidablestockades, and the garrison made a stubborn defence, although most oftheir fighting men were away.

I heard a Spanish officer who was present give an account of theattack: three times the native troops[293] charged, and three times theywere driven back, till the Spanish officers and artillerymen putthemselves in a body at the head of the force, and led the stormingparty, and, with severe loss, won the inner stockade. One of my Manillafollowers on our present expedition was a captive at the time, andhad concealed himself among the mangrove trees till the fighting wasover. He said it was a fearful sight to see the slaughter which hadoccurred—one hundred and fifty of the Spanish force fell, and manymore of the pirates, as they had commenced killing their women andchildren, till promised quarter.

I never saw a more savage set of fellows than those who escaped fromthis attack. The Sultan of Sulu had given them an asylum, and theywere quartered near the spot at which ships usually water. It is abouta mile from the capital, Sugh; is on the beach; and the clear springbubbles up through the sand, where a pool is easily formed, at whichthe casks are filled, or whence the hose is led into the boats. Theplace is well marked by a tree, that, in the distance, looks like anoak: its trunk is of enormous thickness, but low, as the spreadingbranches stretch out from the stem about ten feet from the ground, butafford shelter to a considerable space, and under its shade a market isheld several times a week. I measured its stem: it was above forty feetin circumference at a man’s height above the ground, and considerablymore close to the earth, where the gnarled roots were included.

The Bajus of Mengkabong are, as I have said, a very lawless people,and the following anecdote, told me by Signor Cuarteron, will assistto prove it. He[294] was anchored opposite his chapel in Lokporin, when heheard that there was fighting in Mengkabong, and, on inquiry, foundthat a boat, returning from Labuan to Cagayan Sulu, had put into thatplace for water, and was being attacked by the Bajus. He instantlymanned his boats and pulled round to the salt-water lake. On arrivingnear the first village, he saw several hundred men assembled in prahus,round a detached house, near which a trading-boat was fastened, andguns were occasionally discharged. He inquired the reason, and theBajus declared they were going to revenge the death or captivity ofsome of their countrymen who had disappeared a few months before, andwhom, they had heard, people from Cagayan Sulu had attacked. It wasimmaterial to them whether these were the guilty parties or not, ifthey came from the same country. Signor Cuarteron then pulled up to thedetached house, to find from its beleaguered inmates who they were.He soon discovered they were peaceful traders, not concerned in theoutrage of the spring; upon which, by dint of threats and persuasion,he was enabled to rescue them from the Bajus, and escort them to themouth of the Mengkabong—a very creditable action of the priest.The lawlessness of the Bajus is notorious, and they are now seldomemployed, since the murder of some Chinese traders, who trusted them toform the crew of their boat.

Pañgeran Duroup, the nominal ruler of this place, always kept alooffrom these things, as the Bajus despised any order he gave; in fact,their open defiance of his authority had induced him to remove from thetown to a little island nearly facing the[295] mouth, whose low land wasformed of mud on a bed of water-worn pebbles.

A very barbarous custom exists on this coast—that wrecks and theircrews belong to the chief of the district where they may suffer theirmisfortune. The Bajus used to give us much trouble on this account,though they would now assist the distressed, if they belonged to anEnglish vessel, as they are well aware of our power to reward or punish.

As an instance of the above practice, I may relate an incident whichtook place whilst I was in Brunei. A large prahu sailing from Palawanto the Spanish settlement of Balabak was caught in a violent storm, andthe captain noticed that his canoe, which, according to custom, he wastowing behind, was rapidly filling with water; he therefore anchored,and ordered three men to get into and bail it out. The storm continued,and driving rain and mist rendered every object indistinct, whensuddenly the towing rope parted, and the canoe drifted away. The threemen, having no paddles, soon lost sight of their prahu, and continueddriving before the wind.

The north-east monsoon was blowing, and the current sets down thecoast, and, after a few days, this canoe was seen drifting towards theshore at Tutong, at least 150 miles from the spot where it had partedwith its companion. The fishermen put off, and, on reaching the boat,found the three men lying in it, utterly exhausted from want of foodand water, and from the daily and nightly exposure. They were sent onto the capital, and in a short time recovered, when they found theywere considered as slaves of the Sultan.

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In this emergency they came privately to my house and laid theircase before me: so, in the evening, I went to the Sultan to hearthe wonderful story from his own lips; and, when he had concluded,I congratulated him on the excellent opportunity he had of renewingfriendly relations with the people of Palawan, by sending these menback in a prahu which was to sail for Maludu the following day. Hehesitated at first, but after a little persuasion agreed to do so, andI had the satisfaction of seeing them safely out of the river. TheSultan did not regret sending them away; but he had been so accustomedto consider he had a right to these godsends, that he would certainlyhave kept them, had he not been asked to let them go.

I have noticed, in my account of our first expedition to Kina Balu,how mixed in breed were many of the Bajus with whom we conversed; but,although there is occasionally some Chinese blood found among them, yetit has rarely left a trace on their features. They appear to me to bevery much like the Orang Laut, who frequent the small islands to thesouth of Singapore and about the Malay peninsula; they are generally,however, smaller, and their voices have a sharper intonation than thatof the Malays.

I think, however, that the bold spirit shown by these men, their loveof the seas, and their courage, might be turned to good account under asteady Government.

Leaving the lake we pushed up a narrow creek to a house inhabited byPañgeran Sirail, who politely requested us to spend the night at it,adding that in the morning a bazaar would be held close at hand, at[297]which we should meet all the Dusuns of the Tawaran river; among othersthe Datu of the village of Tamparuli, the chief who escorted Mr. Low inhis journey undertaken in 1851. We were happy to accede to his request,and finding his house very comfortable, took up our quarters in acharming little audience hall or smoking-room which extended in front,and was neat and clean.

Our baggage being heavy, we hired some Bajus to assist our men, andthen lighting our lamps, sat down to dinner. Our host, while declaringthat his religion prevented him joining in a glass of whiskey andwater, was suddenly seized with such severe spasms in the stomach as torequire medicine; we unsmilingly administered a glass of warm whiskeyand water, which our host drank with evident gusto, but it required asecond to complete the cure. As the evening advanced, and his utterancebecame more indistinct, he kept assuring us that a Mahomedan shouldnever drink, except when spirits were taken as medicine.

We were sorry to find that the cholera had already reached Mengkabong,and that several deaths had taken place. In the night we were disturbedby piercing shrieks and mournful wails from a neighbouring house; wethought it was another victim of the epidemic, but it proved to be ayoung girl sorrowing for the loss of a sister, who died in the nightfrom abscess.

Early in the morning the market-people began to assemble, and Bajusand Dusuns crowded round the house; the former brought salt, saltedfish, iron, and cloth, to exchange for rice, vegetables, and fruit.[298]These markets are very convenient, and, as at Brunei, are held dailyat different points, in order to accommodate the various villagesscattered around the lake. To-day there was a very great gathering, asmany disputes had to be settled.

The old Datu of Tamparuli came, and at first appeared uninterestedand scarcely noticed us, his eye-sight was weak, and he appeared dulland stupid. A glass of whiskey and water revived his energies and hisrecollection, he shook Mr. Low warmly by the hand, and then turning tothe assembly told them in an excited voice of the wonderful feats hehad performed in the old journey, and how he had actually reached thesummit of Kina Balu.

This fired the ambition of Pañgeran Sirail, who, as long as he wasunder the influence of whiskey, declared it would be dishonour toallow the white men to do this difficult task alone, and pointing tothe craggy summits now clearly visible above the trees, swore he wouldreach them, but his courage soon oozed out at his fingers’ ends. TheDatu, however, considered himself as too old again to attempt thejourney, but said he would send his son-in-law and a party of followers.

When the market was over we started, most of our baggage being placedon light bamboo sledges drawn by buffaloes, which appeared to pass overthe soft soil with great ease. The path, nearly due east, lay over apretty plain for the most part under cultivation; men were ploughing,harrowing, and sowing in various fields, that were carefully dividedinto small squares with slight embankments between them. The ploughingwas better than at Tampasuk, deeper, and the[299] ground more turned over;each section of these fields is as much private property as any inEngland, and in general so much valued as to be rarely parted with.

In crossing this cultivated plain we had the finest view of Kina Baluthat could be imagined, it was just before we reached the Tawaranriver; we were standing where the young rice was showing its tendergreen above the ground: on either side were groves of tall palms, andin front, the hills rose in successive ranges till Kina Balu crownedthe whole. Its purple precipices were distinctly visible, and broadstreams of water, flashing in the bright morning sun, were flowing downthe upper slopes to disappear in mist or deep ravines, or to be lost inthe shadows of the great mountain.

About three miles walking brought us to the Tawaran, whose banks werelined with groves of cocoa-nut and other fruit-trees; interspersedamong which were Dusun villages and detached houses. We observed alsoa plantation of sago palms, which the inhabitants said were plentiful,but certainly not in the parts we had traversed.

There were also gardens here as neatly fenced in and as carefullytended as those of the Chinese; and this rich soil produced ingreat perfection sugar-cane, Indian corn, yams, kiladis, and othervegetables. The whole had a very civilized appearance, the neatness wasremarkable, and about the houses were cattle, buffaloes, and goats, ingreat numbers. On reaching the Tawaran, Monsieur Cuarteron left us tovisit a Manilla man, who, though formerly a captive sold into slavery,had now become the chief of a Dusun village.

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We continued our course inland along the banks of the Tawaran untilwe reached Tamparuli, prettily embowered in extensive groves offruit-trees: we took up our quarters for the night at the old Datu’shouse, which was very similar to those of the Sea Dayaks.

The Tawaran, where we first joined it, was about sixty yards broad, andthe stream was rapid, swollen by the late rains, and muddy from recentlandslips. It is a river very unimportant in itself, as here, notperhaps ten miles from the sea, there are already rapids that can onlybe passed by very small native craft.

The old Datu of Tamparuli is the proud possessor of the famed sacredjar I have already referred to. It was a Gusi, and was originally givenby a Malau chief in the interior of the Kapuas to a Pakatan Dayak,converted, however, to Islam, and named Japar. He sold it to a Borneantrader for nearly two tons of brass guns, or 230l., who broughtit to the Tawaran to resell it, nominally for 400l., reallyfor nearly 700l. No money passes on these occasions, it is allreckoned in brass guns or goods, and the old Datu was paying for his inrice. He possesses another jar, however, to which he attaches an almostfabulous value; it is about two feet in height, and is of a dark olivegreen. He fills both the jars with water, and adds flowers and herbsto retail to all the surrounding people who may be suffering from anyillness. The night we were there they little thought that a scourgewas coming upon them which would test to the utmost the virtue of thesacred jars.

Perhaps, however, the most remarkable jar in Borneo, is the onepossessed by the present Sultan[301] of Brunei, as it not only has allthe valuable properties of the other sacred vases, but speaks. As theSultan told this with a grave face and evident belief in the truth ofwhat he was relating, we listened to the story with great interest. Hesaid, the night before his first wife died, it moaned sorrowfully, andon every occasion of impending misfortune it utters the same melancholysounds. I have sufficient faith in his word to endeavour to seek anexplanation of this (if true) remarkable phenomenon, and perhaps itmay arise from the wind blowing over its mouth, which may be of somepeculiar shape, and cause sounds like those of an Æolian harp. I shouldhave asked to see it, had it not been always kept in the women’sapartments.

As a rule, it is covered over with gold-embroidered brocade, and seldomexposed, except when about to be consulted. This may account for itsonly producing sounds at certain times. I have heard, that in formerdays, the Muruts and Bisayas used to come with presents to the Sultan,and obtain in return a little water from this sacred jar, with whichto besprinkle their fields to ensure good crops. I have not known aninstance of their doing so during late years, as the relations betweenmonarch and people are now of the most unsatisfactory kind.

In looking over Carletti’s Voyage, I find he mentions takingsome sacred jars from the Philippine Islands to Japan, which were soprized there, that the punishment of death was denounced against themif they were sold to any one but the Government. Some, he says, werevalued as high as 30,000l. The Sultan of Brunei was asked if hewould take 2,000l.[302] for his; he answered he did not think anyoffer in the world would tempt him to part with it.

The Datu possessed a daughter, the loveliest girl in Borneo. I havenever seen a native surpass her in figure, or equal her gentle,expressive countenance. She appeared but sixteen years of age, and asshe stood near, leaning against the door-post in the most gracefulattitude, we had a perfect view of all her perfections. Her dress wasslight indeed, consisting of nothing but a short petticoat reachingfrom her waist to a little above her knees. Her skin was of that lightclear brown which is almost the perfection of colour in a sunny clime,and as she was just returning from bathing, her hair unbound fell ingreat luxuriance over her shoulders. Her eyes were black, not flashing,but rather contemplative, and her features were regular, even her nosewas straight.

So intent was she in watching our movements, and wondering at ournovel mode of eating, with spoons, and knives and forks, that sheunconsciously remained in her graceful attitude for some time;but suddenly recollecting that she was not appearing to the bestadvantage in her light costume, she moved away slowly to her room, andpresently came forth dressed in a silk jacket and new petticoat, withbead necklaces and gold ornaments. In our eyes she did not look sointeresting as before.

Pañgeran Sirail now approached us to say that he felt he was too oldand weak to ascend the great mountain, but had brought three of hispeople to supply his place. We were not sorry, as his devotion towhiskey would have sadly reduced our little stock. Although it was butthree months after the[303] harvest, yet we could obtain no supplies ofrice; they had it in the form of padi, but were unwilling to part withit, so we sent back some of our followers to procure sufficient for afew days.

Next morning we made but little progress, as we had to wait for themen who had gone in search of rice. However, we reached the village ofBawang, our path lying among the fruit groves that skirted the river’sbanks. As it was now unfordable, we had to cross it by a boat, and thiswas a slow process with our large party.

Bawang, a Dusun village, consists of scattered dwellings, like thoseof the Malays, while the others we have seen resemble the houses ofthe Sea Dayaks. A family very hospitably received us, and gave up halftheir accommodation to us and our immediate followers. The Datu who hadaccompanied us to this place now returned, handing us over to Kadum,his son-in-law, a very dull-looking man; we were also joined by tenothers. One, a Malay named Omar, who was to act as interpreter andguide, was a willing but a stupid fellow; he came originally from theDutch settlement of Pontianak, and had been married five years to aDusun girl, yet he could scarcely manage to act as interpreter, not somuch from ignorance, as from a confusion of ideas.

Started soon after six for a cleared spot about a quarter of a mileabove the village, where we stopped to introduce some order in ourfollowers: we divided the packages among them, and found each of theforty-one men had sufficient to carry.

About two or three miles above Bawang the Tawaran divides—one branchrunning from the[304] south, the other from the S.E. by E. We soon reachedthe foot of the sandstone range, which bounds the low land, and likeall heights composed of this rock, it was very steep to climb. For athousand feet it was abrupt, and severe work to those unused to suchtoil. The path then led us along the top of the ridge to a peak about1,500 feet high, from which I was enabled to take compass bearings.A fine view was to be had a few feet from the summit, the coast linebeing quite clear from Gaya Bay to Sulaman Lake, and the distant islesscattered on the sea were distinctly visible. A wide plain stretchesbelow us, mostly rice fields, with groves of fruit-trees interspersedamong them, and the Mengkabong waters appearing extensive, form apleasing feature in the scene.

We continued our course to the village of Si Nilau, passing over ahill of a similar name, about 1,800 feet high. The village, if villageit can be called, where a number of little detached hamlets arescattered about the slopes of the hills, amid groves of palms, is agood resting-place. We brought up here to give time for our followersto join us, as they felt the climbing more than we did, who carriednothing but our weapons. We were three hours, exclusive of stoppages,advancing four miles of direct course E. by S. Most of the ranges runnearly E. and W., though occasionally there is some divergence.

After breakfasting, we started, hoping to reach the next village ofKalawat, but our guide making a mistake, led us in a totally wrongdirection, so that after wandering about two hours in a scorching sunwithout shelter, we returned to Si Nilau.

Heavy masses of clouds were now driving over the[305] sky, threatening adeluge of rain, so we determined to spend the night here, and toldour guide that we would distribute our men among the houses. Omarpresently returned, saying the villagers refused us entrance into theirdwellings. As now heavy drops began to fall, I went down from the fruitgrove, where our party was assembled, and approaching a house whichappeared the neatest and the cleanest, I found the door shut. Therewere evidently people inside, while all the other houses were empty. Itis an universal custom in Borneo to afford shelter to travellers, butthey very rarely like to enter houses whose owners are absent. Hearingsome whispering going on inside, I knocked and directed the interpreterto ask for shelter; there was no answer, and as the heavy drops werecoming down faster, I gave a vigorous push to the door. The fasteninggave way, and an old woman fell back among a crowd of frightened girls,who, at the sight of a white man, shrieked and sprang to the groundthrough an opposite window. They did not run far, but turned to lookif they were followed. We went to the window, and, smilingly beckonedthem to come back, and as the rain was now beginning to descend withviolence, they did so. We apologized for our rough entry, but the highwind that drove sheets of water against the house was our best excuse.We promised to pay for our accommodation, and in five minutes they wereall busily engaged in their usual avocations. On the return of the menfrom their farms, we told them what had occurred, at which they laughedheartily as soon as they found we were not offended by having had thedoor shut in our faces, and we then made many inquiries[306] concerning thelake of Kina Balu, and whether either branch of the Tawaran ran fromit; but all the Dusuns were positive that the river had its sources inthe hills, which we could see farther east. Of the lake itself they hadnever heard.

The Nilau tribe is very scattered, none of the hamlets having above adozen small houses; but in personal appearance Mr. Low found them muchimproved since he saw them in 1851. It is impossible even to guessat the population; but judging from the cleared appearance of thecountry, it must be tolerably numerous. There is little old forest,except on the summit of the highest ridges, all the land being used insuccession. Rice, however, is the principal cultivation, there beingfew kiladis, and we observed no tobacco plantations.

The girls of this village wore black cloths over their shoulders, andbrought down so as to conceal their bosoms.

Started early for Kalawat in an E. by S. direction. A sharp ascent ledus to the top of the heights of Tangkahang, from which we had a veryextensive view, reaching from Mantanani to Mengkabong. Ranges of hills,nearly parallel to our walk, occurred on either side, with feeders ofthe Tawaran at their feet. After an hour’s walk, reached the Kalawathills, nearly 3,000 feet high. The path passed, after a few hundredyards, to the south of the range, perhaps 200 feet from its summit,and after a mile turned to the S.E. Then the walk became very tiring,up and down the steepest of ravines, with slippery clay steps or loosestones. I was not sorry, therefore, to reach the village of Kalawat, acluster of about ten[307] houses, containing upwards of eighty families.The village was dirty and so were the houses.

We stopped here to breakfast, and to wait the arrival of our stragglingfollowers, and heard of the desertion of one of them. He was a negro,of great size and power, and, in muscular development, equal to twoor three of our other men. Our overseer had chosen him to carry ouredibles, as tea, sugar, salt, and curry stuffs; but had unfortunatelytrusted him also with half a bottle of whiskey. He had complainedbitterly of the exhausting nature of the walk, and no sooner were ourbacks turned than he slipped into the brushwood, and devoted himself tothe bottle; he was found there by the overseer, who, after extractinga promise that he would follow when sober, left him with all ourcondiments. These very heavy muscular men have generally proved uselessin jungle work. In all our arrangements we now greatly missed Musa, myhead boatman, who had stayed behind at Brunei, to look after his familyduring the cholera.

Starting again, a very trying climb took us to the top of a hill,from which a long but easy descent led to the Tinuman, a feeder ofthe Tawaran. We observed, both yesterday and to-day, many villagesscattered over the face of the country, as Tagau, Bañgau, and others.Though there was no plain at the foot of the hills, yet many of theslopes were easy, occasionally almost flat.

At the little stream of Tinuman, we came upon a party of Dusuns,belonging to the village of Buñgol, who led us by a very winding pathto their houses, situated on the left-hand bank of the Tawaran. We hadscarcely reached it when rain came on, as[308] it appears generally to doabout three o’clock in the afternoon in the neighbourhood of Kina Baluand other lofty mountains.

Buñgol is a large village, and contained, in 1851, according to theirown account, about 120 families; but this time (1858), they appeareduncertain how many there were. I estimated, from the length of thedifferent houses that there were above 160 families. It is situated ongrassy, undulating land, about fifty or sixty feet above the level ofthe stream; yet the inhabitants are exposed to floods, that reach theirhouses and damage the crops on the low lands.

In our first expedition up the Tampasuk, we rested at some housesof the Buñgol Ida’an, but we could discover no more connectionbetween these communities of the same name than between the others.Notwithstanding the pouring rain, we walked through the village, andbathed in the rushing torrent that ran beneath the houses, the Tawarannow deserves no other name.

Next morning, Omar, the guide, came to say that all the bridges of theregular path had been washed away, and that it would be necessary totake us by another, with which he was unacquainted. We suspected thatthis announcement was merely to serve a friend who was hired as guide;but we gave way to their assurances that the old path was impassable,and had reason to repent it, as, instead of taking us by the directroute, only four miles in an east direction, he led us first north,then north-east, ending in east-north-east, and after wandering overnumerous pathless ranges, at last, after eight hours’ walking broughtus to the Tampasuk, about three[309] miles below the village of Koung. Thedividing ranges are very much broken up, and run in all directions. Atributary of the Tawaran, to the north of us, came within a mile ofthe Tampasuk, running direct towards Sulaman, and then turning to theeastward.

We had beautiful views to-day of the surrounding country, both towardsthe sea and towards the mountains; but had scarcely reached theTampasuk when heavy rain came on, totally obscuring the prospect, andalthough we pushed on resolutely for an hour, fording the swellingstream and climbing the slippery banks, were at last obliged to stop ata hut amid a field of kiladis, and give up our intention of reachingKoung.

We thought ourselves completely exhausted, until we saw the bunglingattempts of our men to set up the tents. The Malays were very tired,and were shivering in the drenching rain and cold wind which swept downfrom the mountains, so we determined before taking off our wet clothesto see our men comfortable. Under our directions, and with our activeassistance, the tents were soon raised, as the men, encouraged by ourexample, worked with a will. But it was a fatiguing day—nine hours ofcontinued climbing and descending.

On the following morning we proceeded to Koung. There were few farmsin sight that day, though yesterday we saw immense clearings, someextending over a whole hill-side, and all were working hard to increasethem.

On reaching Koung, we found the villagers assembled, and crowdsoccupying the chief’s house. We had intended, if possible, to reachthe summit of[310] Kina Balu from this village, as on the last occasion,we were disgusted with the conduct of the Kiau people; but soonascertained it was not to be done, as the western spurs did not reachabove half way up the mountain side; nor was there any rice to beprocured in this village. We were also very much astonished to hear thekind old chief asking for black-mail; it did not appear to come fromhis heart, so we looked round to find who was his prompter, and, atthe first glance, discovered the ugly face of Timbañgan, a wall-eyedman—the very chief who had tried to prevent our passing through LabangLabang, in the spring. To give way would have been absurd, as we shouldhave had black-mail demanded of us at every village, and increasing ina progressive ratio. So we called up all the interpreters and made themcarefully explain what were our motives in travelling and the objectswe had in view; that we would pay for everything we required, or forany damage done by our followers, but not for permission to travelthrough their country. We then reminded them how their great enemies,the Lanuns of Tampasuk and Pandasan, had been defeated by the English,and how impossible it would be for the Ida’an to fight with whitemen. A revolver was then discharged through a thick plank, to showthe effect of that small instrument, and how useless a defence theirshields would prove; and I handed the chief my heavy double-barrelledrifle to examine, that he might reflect on its great power.

The effect of the explanations and of the conical balls was immediate,and we heard no more of black-mail; on the contrary, the most friendlyrelations[311] were established. To show what a curious people they are,and how we appeared to have hit the hidden springs of their actions, Imay mention that we now felt the utmost confidence in them, and askedthe chief to take care of a fever-stricken servant, and of all suchportions of our baggage as we did not wish to carry on with us. Hecheerfully agreed to do all we wished, and proved most friendly anduseful. We then made presents to his wife to a greater extent than hisdemand for black-mail, trying to convince them by our actions that thebetter they behaved to us, the more kindly and liberally we shouldbehave to them.

Next morning we started for Kiau. We noticed, the previous day, thatTimbañgan had disappeared immediately after the pistol was discharged,which was a demonstration especially intended for him, and one of ourguides told us he was about to collect his tribe to dispute our furtherpassage, and advised us to make a detour round his village; but, ifhostilities were intended, it was better to face them, as, by thelower path, we might easily have been surprised at a ford or in somedeep ravine. At the foot of the hill we halted till all our force wascollected, and then marched up to the village. To our great surprise,we found it deserted by all except Timbañgan, who offered his servicesas a guide; though we knew the way as well as he did, we cheerfullyaccepted his services, and well rewarded them.

We followed the same path as during our last expedition, and reachedKiau without difficulty, to find all our old acquaintances merry-makingat a wedding. We were rather anxious about our reception, after[312] thelively scene that had closed our last visit, and had determined toput ourselves in the hands of the old man, Li Moung, as we were verydissatisfied with the conduct of Li Maing, our former guide. We enteredthe almost deserted house we had formerly occupied, but were soonsurrounded by the wedding guests, who came flocking down to meet us,and welcomed us in the most friendly and hearty manner. And these werethe very men with whom, on our last visit, we were apparently aboutto exchange blows. I say apparently, because I do not believe theyever really intended to fight. They had been accustomed to partiesof Baju traders arriving at their village, whom they could frighteninto compliance with their demands, and thought they might do the samewith us; but finding from their former experience they could not, theydid not attempt it this time, and we ourselves placed the fullestconfidence in them. The Bajus, however, now seldom visit these distantvillagers, who are thus compelled to take their own produce to thecoast, to be cajoled or plundered in their turn, which is one of thereasons why cloth and iron are so rare among them.

Li Moung was delighted with our determination to leave all arrangementsin his hands; and Li Maing was not very much dissatisfied, as a hugeboil almost prevented him walking. We made our beds under a largewindow which opened from the public room, as the only spot where freshair could be obtained. This house was better arranged than the ordinarySea Dayak ones. Instead of having the whole floor on a level with thedoor, they had a long passage leading through the house: on one sidethe private apartments; on[313] the other, a raised platform on which thelads and unmarried men slept. We found this very comfortable, as thedogs were not permitted to wander over it.

The wedding guests were very excited, having drunk sufficient toloosen their tongues; the men were talkative, while the women pressedin crowds round the foot of our mats. The great difficulty was, asusual—no rice to be had.

Next day we sent our men through the village to find if it werepossible to procure provisions, but they only obtained sufficient fora day’s consumption. This determined us to send back to Mengkabong allour followers but six to procure supplies. We told the Ida’an of ourresolve, and I think this proof of our confidence had a great effecton them; in fact, we always treated them in the same way, whether wewere backed by a large force or not, and we never had to repent of ourconduct towards them.

Return of the Men for Rice—Readiness to assist us—NewKinds of Pitcher Plants—The Valley of Pinokok—BeautifulNepenthes—Kina Taki—Description of the NepenthesRajah—Rocks Coated with Iron—Steep Strata—TheMagnolia—Magnificent Sunset Scene—Fine Soil—Talk aboutthe Lake—Change of Fashions—Effect of Example—RapidTailoring—Language the same among Ida’an, Dusun, andBisaya—Reports—Start for Marei Parei—The Fop Kamá—PrepareNight Lodgings—Fragrant Bed—Stunted Vegetation—Appearance ofPrecipices—Dr. Hooker—Botanical Descriptions—NepenthesRajah—Manner of Growing—Great Size—Used as aBucket—Drowned Rat—Nepenthes Edwardsiana—AnAccount of it—Beautiful Plants—Botanical Description ofNepenthes Edwardsiana—Extensive Prospects—PeakedHill of Saduk Saduk—Noble Buttress—Situation forBarracks—Nourishing Food—Deep Valleys—FamiliarIntercourse with the Villagers—Turning the Laugh—DirtyFaces—Looking-glasses—Their Effect—Return of ourFollowers—Start for the Mountain—Rough Cultivation—TheMountain Rat used as Food—Our Old Guides—DifficultWalking—Scarlet Rhododendron—Encamp—DoubleSunset—Nepenthes Lowii—BotanicalDescription—Nepenthes Villosa—BotanicalDescription—Extensive View of the Interior ofBorneo—The Lake—The Cave—Ascend to the Summit—ItsExtent and Peculiarities—Distant Views—North-westernPeak—Severe Storm—Injured Barometer—UselessThermometers—Dangerous Descent—Accidents—Quartz inCrevices—Clean and Pleasant Girls—Friendly Parting—Ida’anSacrifices—Return by Koung—Kalawat and Nilu—Deathof Sahat—A Thief—Cholera-Incantations and Method ofTreatment—Arrival at Gantisan—Fine Wharf—The Pangeran—BadWeather—Heavy Squall—Little Rice to be had—Sail—Anchorat Gaya Island—Curious Stones—Fish—Description of aMagnificent Kind—Poisonous[315] Fins—Set Sail—AwkwardPosition—Water-spout—Admiralty Charts—Names requireCorrecting—Serious Mistake—Among the Shoals—FearfulSquall—Falling Stars and Brilliant Meteor—Arrival at Labuan.

Kadum and the men of Tamparuli, together with the overseer and most ofour followers, started on their journey, while we amused ourselves incollecting vocabularies, and trying to make ourselves understood by thepeople. They showed a great readiness to assist us, particularly thegirls, who made us repeat sentences after them, and then burst intoloud laughter either at our pronunciation or the comical things theyhad made us utter.

All the lads of the village were rejoiced at our arrival, as wepurchased the plants they brought in, particularly those withvariegated leaves, and they thus obtained brass wire and cloth. Oneevening, a man, who had been visiting another village of this tribe,produced from his basket specimens of two new kinds of nepenthes, orpitcher-plants, which were wondrous to behold, so we determined to makea visit to the spot where he found them.

As the man assured us it would be a very long walk, we providedourselves with blankets, to enable us to sleep out a night, ifnecessary. We passed over a hill at the back of the village, which,where the path crosses it, is about five hundred feet above the houses,and is a continuation of a spur of Kina Balu. We then descended intoa ravine, and, crossing over a sub-spur, had a fine view of a valleyabout three miles broad. A stream ran on either side of it, and betweenwas a fine space almost flat, at the lower end of which was the villageof Pinokok. Having descended[316] and crossed two streams called Haya Haya,which soon joined, however, into one to form the Pinokok, we traversedthe plain, and rested on the banks of the Dahombang, or Hobang Stream,to breakfast on sweet potatoes and sardines, the worst things that canbe imagined for a morning meal. Crossing the Hobang, a steep climb ledus to the western spur, along which our path lay; here, at about 4,000feet, Mr. Low found a beautiful white and spotted pitcher-plant, whichhe considered the prettiest of the twenty-two species of nepenthes withwhich he was then acquainted; the pitchers are white and covered inthe most beautiful manner with spots of an irregular form, of a rosypink colour. On each leaf is a row of very soft downy hairs runningalong its edge, and a similar brown pubescence grows on the cups. Itis a climbing plant, and varies from fifteen to twenty feet in length.Its leaves are about nine inches long in the blade, and have wingedpetioles which are carried down the stem to the next leaf below, eachof which bears a pitcher on a prolonged petiole about fifteen inches inlength.

We continued our walk along the ridge until we had reached an elevationof 4,500 feet, when the path descended to the pleasant stream, orrather torrent, of Kina Taki, in which greenstone was the principalrock. All the rivulets we have passed to-day fall into the Dahombang,which continues its course until, winding round the bluff point ofLabang Labang, it joins the Tampasuk. Another steep climb of 800 feetbrought us to the Marei Parei spur, to the spot where the ground wascovered with the magnificent pitcher-plants, of which we had come insearch. This one [317]has been called the Nepenthes Rajah, andis a plant about four feet in length, with broad leaves stretchingon every side, having the great pitchers resting on the ground in acircle about it. Its shape and size are remarkable. I will give themeasurement of a small one, to indicate the form: the length along theback was nearly fourteen inches; from the base to the top of the columnin front was five inches; and its lid was a foot long by fourteeninches broad, and of an oval shape. Its mouth was surrounded by aplaited pile, which near the column was two inches broad, lesseningin its narrowest part to three-quarters of an inch. The plaited pileof the mouth was also undulating in broad waves. Near the stem thepitcher is four inches deep, so that the mouth is situated upon it in atriangular manner. The colour of an old pitcher was a deep purple, butthat of the others is generally mauve outside, very dark indeed in thelower part, though lighter towards the rim; the inside is of the samecolour, but has a kind of glazed and shiny appearance. The lid is mauvein the centre, shading to green at the edges. The stems of the femaleflowers we found always a foot shorter than those of the male, and theformer were far less numerous than the latter. It is indeed one of themost astonishing productions of nature.

Mr. Low set to work enthusiastically to collect specimens, while Itried to procure some compass bearings; but the mist kept drivingover the country, so that I had only one good opportunity. I restedthe compass on a rock, and was surprised by its pointing in a verydifferent direction from what the position of the sun showed itshould. On raising[318] it in my hands, it pointed correctly. I found, onexamination, that the rock was covered with a thick coating of iron,and all in the neighbourhood were in a similar state. To-day we reachedan elevation of 5,400 feet. The path we followed was tolerably good;we were told that it led to the village of Sayap, a branch of the Kiautribe.

The sandstone near the mountain is almost perpendicular, being at anangle of 80°: lower down the sides it lessens. It appears as if themolten granite had been forced up through the sandstone. Along thesides of the spurs were huge boulders of granite, left, doubtless, bythe streams ere they cut their way deeper in the earth. Mr. Low havingfinished collecting, we returned, and during the walk were continuallyregaled with the rich perfume of the flowers of the magnolia, but couldnot find one of them, though the plant was a common shrub. After atiring descent, we reached the plain about five, and made preparationsto pass the night at a hut belonging to Li Moung, in the valley ofPinokok.

We never had a finer view of Kina Balu than this evening. A whitecloud in the form of a turban, its edges richly fringed with gold,encompassed most of the highest peaks, while the brightness of thesetting sun rendered every other portion of the mountain distinctlyvisible, except those dark valleys cut deep in its sides, where theDahombang and the Pinokok have their rise; and even here a successionof cascades reflected back the sun’s rays from the shadowy gloom.

We were standing opposite its western face, and having no high buttressbetween us and the mountain, we could observe the great precipice,which is [319]here nearly perpendicular from the sloping summit downto an elevation of about 5,000 feet. As we stood there admiring theextreme beauty of the scene, a double rainbow began to appear, andapparently arching over the mountain, formed, as it were, a brightframework to the picture. We stayed there until the sun setting beyondthe distant hills threw the valley into shade, but left its brightnesson the craggy peaks above. Gradually the wind rose and drove the cloudsover the heavens, and the form of the mountain and the brilliantrainbows vanished.

The land in this valley is of the richest description—far superior,Mr. Low thought, to that used in Ceylon for coffee plantations. The hutwhere we stayed the night was 3,000 feet above the level of the sea,and the hills around about 4,000 feet.

Next morning we returned to the houses by the same path, and restedon the summit of the hill overlooking the village. Here we sat forsome time, making inquiries about the great lake. They speak of itas undoubtedly existing, saying we could reach it in three days. Onewho had traded with the villages on its banks asserted that standingon the beach, he could not see the opposite side. The first villageon the road is Tuhan, and the next Inserban: they all call the lakeRanau, a corruption of the Malay Danau. We could scarcely make anyconnected inquiries, on account of the indifference or stupidity of ourinterpreter; but seriously discussed the possibility of our being ableto combine the two journeys, but found our means insufficient. With ourparty we should have taken a long time, particularly[320] as the villagersrefused to furnish us with guides until their rice-planting was over.

We noticed the great change that had taken place in the ways andtastes of these people. When Mr. Low was here in 1851, beads and brasswire were very much sought after. When we came last April, the peoplecared nothing for beads, and very little for cloth; their hearts wereset on brass wire. We, however, distributed a good deal of cloth, atreasonable rates, in exchange for food and services rendered. We nowfound that even brass wire, except of a very large size, was despised,and cloth eagerly desired. Chawats were decreasing, and trousers comingin. This is a taste very likely to continue, as the weather at Kiau isgenerally very cool, and it might also stimulate their industry. Atpresent, although they keep their plantations very clean, they use noinstrument to turn up the soil, merely putting the seed in a hole madeby a pointed stick. In size, their kiladis, sweet potatoes, and riceare very inferior and their crops scanty, though the flavour of theirproductions is excellent, but with their tobacco they appear to takemuch pains. Thinking that potatoes might flourish here, Mr. Low, in1856, sent some by Mr. Lobb to be given to the villagers to plant; nextmorning, however, he found the little boys playing marbles with them.

Even the more civilized Javanese cared little for the seeds of Europeanvegetables which were distributed freely by the Dutch Government. Itat last struck some shrewd officer that if the natives saw the resultsof cultivating these vegetables, they might be induced to turn theirattention to them. He therefore[321] obtained permission to establish amodel garden, and the result was satisfactory. The Javanese, who haddespised the seeds, could not overlook the profit to be derived fromthe sale of the crops of potatoes, cabbages, and other esculents,displayed for their imitation, and were then grateful for seeds.Nothing but some such scheme will ever induce the Dayaks to alter theirpresent slovenly system of cultivation.

Among those who accompanied us to Marei Parei was a young lad, who waspaid for his services in gray shirting and thin brass wire. As soon ashe had received them, he cut off three inches of the wire, and beganbeating out one end and sharpening the other: it was to make a needle.His sister brought him some native-made thread; then with his knife hecut the cloth into a proper shape, and set to work to make a pair oftrousers; nor did he cease his occupation till they were finished, andby evening he was wearing them.

We were so pleased with our visit to the Marei Parei spur that wedetermined to move thither for a few days with our servants, and livein tents. In the meantime we continued our collection of Kiau words,which was difficult work with our interpreters.

It has been thought that the tribes living around Kina Balu speakdifferent languages, but we found, on the contrary, that the Ida’an,Dusun, and even the Bisaya, can converse freely with each other. Wehad with us, during our different expeditions, Bisayas from the riverKalias, opposite Labuan, an interpreter who had learnt the languagefrom the people in the interior of Membakut, Malays who had learnt itat Kimanis, Dusuns from Tamparuli, on the Tawaran,[322] and Ida’an from theplains of Tampasuk; and yet, after a few days, to become accustomed tothe differences of dialect, all these men conversed freely with theKiaus. If they are asked whether they speak the same languages, theywill answer, “No,” and give as an example—“We say iso, when theKiaus say eiso, for ‘no’;” but these are only localisms. I mustadd, that none of these people had ever visited the Kiaus until theyaccompanied us.

In making vocabularies here we found the villagers very careless oftheir pronunciation: for instance, the word “heavy” was at differenttimes written down, magat, bagat, wagat, andogat; for “rice,” wagas and ogas; for “to bathe,”padshu, padsiu, and madsiu, and indifferentlypronounced in these various ways by the same people. Many yearspreviously, when I was at Maludu Bay, I collected a few words ofthe Ida’an, and they were essentially the same as those of theaborigines of Tampasuk; and the Malays tell me that the Ida’an of thenorth-eastern coast speak so as to be understood by them, who haveacquired their knowledge on the western coast. I may here observe thatthe same people are indifferently called Dusun and Ida’an. The termDusun, the real meaning of which is villager, is applied to thesenorthern inhabitants of Borneo by the Malays, while the Bajus generallycall them Ida’an.

While we were making preparations for our short visit to Marei Parei,we noticed some agitation among the Kiaus, and found it arose from areport that a large party of Europeans had arrived at Bawang, on theTawaran, on their way to the mountain, and it was added, heavy guns hadbeen heard at sea. We could[323] not, of course, offer any explanation,but thought there was very little likelihood of any one coming to joinus, and suggested, what proved to be the truth, that the news of ourown arrival at Bawang had been reaching them by a circuitous route.We treated the report with so much indifference as to satisfy theirsuspicious minds.

The next morning, the men who had agreed to carry our bedding refusedto fulfil their contract unless paid double wages; so we started withour own servants, but were quickly followed by the Ida’an, who eagerlyshouldered the heaviest burdens. They were only trying how far theycould succeed in imposing on us. The Fop also took a load. That namewas affixed to him, on our first visit, from his great attention todress, and the favour shown him by all the young girls, more due to hisevident good-nature than to his good looks; he was, however, an active,powerful man. When we were here in April, he had just married a finegirl, named Sugan, and used always, when the crowd surrounded us, to beseen standing behind her with his arms folded round her neck. He wasbetter mannered than any of his neighbours, and never annoyed us bybegging. He it was who told us he had been to the lake, and followedthe route through Tuhan, Inserban and Barbar. His name is Kamá. Imention him, as he might prove useful as a guide to the lake, shouldany traveller be induced to try that journey.

We followed the same path we used on the former occasion—across thePinokok valley, and up the buttress, till we reached Marei Parei, andencamped on a rocky, dry spot near the place where the[324] NepenthesRajah were found in the greatest abundance.

Knowing that the cold would be severely felt by our followers,accustomed all their lives to the heat of the plains, we tried toinduce them to take precautions, but without avail. We, however, tookcare of ourselves by cutting enough brushwood to raise our bedding afoot above the damp ground, to fill up the end of our tent and coverit over with bushes, grass, and reeds, to prevent the cold piercingthrough. Around us were thickets of magnolias, but without flowers, andamong the other shrubs which grew near was one which we selected forour beds, as when bruised it emitted a myrtle-like fragrance.

The temperature was very pleasant in the afternoon, being 75° in theshade; but this was partly caused by the refraction from the rockysoil around. In the water the thermometer marked 66·5°, but at sunsetit fell to 60° in our tent, and the men, too late, began to repent oftheir idleness.

The vegetation around is very stunted, though above the trees arelarge-sized: the former is due to the stony nature of the soil and thegreat amount of iron that renders all compass bearings untrustworthy.It is, I believe, decomposed serpentine, containing a large quantity ofperoxide of iron. Above the vegetation the mountain presents nothingbut rough precipices impossible to ascend. On their face we observedbroad white patches and white lines running across, similar to thoseI observed on the summit during my former ascent. On the top of thenorth-west peak we noticed a heap of stones, which, through a goodtelescope, looked like a cairn, and[325] we were full of conjectures asto the possibility of a traveller in ancient times having made theascent. This apparent cairn was afterwards explained by similar heapsof granite piled up as if by man, but being simply the harder portionsof the rock remaining when the rest had crumbled away.

At sunrise the thermometer marked 55°, and the air felt very chilly;so, after a cup of chocolate to warm our blood, we started to explorethe slopes above us.

Dr. Hooker having kindly allowed me to make use of his descriptionsof the wonderful pitcher-plants discovered during these expeditions,I shall avail myself of the permission, and introduce here his noteson the Bornean species of Nepenthes, as well as the botanicalaccount of the ones found on the Marei Parei spur.

The largest was the Nepenthes Rajah. The plates, copied fromthose published in the Linnean Transactions, merely give theform, as it has been found necessary to reduce them to the size of thevolume.

“The want of any important characters in the flowers and fruit ofNepenthes is a very remarkable feature of these plants. Theleaves differ considerably in insertion, and in being more or lesspetioled. The pitchers of most, when young, are shorter, and providedwith two ciliated wings in front; more mature plants bear longerpitchers, with the wings reduced to thickened lines. The glandularportion of the pitcher remains more constant than any other, and thedifference between the form of old and young pitchers is often chieflyconfined to the[326] further development of the superior glandular portioninto a neck or tube.”[17]

“Ascidia magna, ore mediocri, annulo latissime explanato, denselamellato v. costato.

“Nepenthes Rajah, H. f. (Frutex, 4-pedalis, Low). Foliis maximis2-pedalibus, oblongo-lanceolatis petiolo costaque crassissimis,ascidiis giganteis (cum operculo 1-2-pedalibus) ampullaceis orecontracto, stipite folio peltatim affixo, annulo maximo lato eversocrebre lamellato, operculo amplissimo ovato-cordato, ascidium totumæquante.—(Tab. LXXII).

“Hab.—Borneo, north coast, on Kina Balu, alt. 5,000 feet(Low). This wonderful plant is certainly one of the moststriking vegetable productions hitherto discovered, and, in thisrespect, is worthy of taking place side by side with the RafflesiaArnoldii. It hence bears the title of my friend Rajah Brooke, ofwhose services, in its native place, it may be commemorative amongbotanists.... I have only two specimens of leaves and pitchers, bothquite similar, but one twice as large as the other. Of these, the leafof the larger is 18 inches long, exclusive of the petioles, which isas thick as the thumb and 7–8 broad, very coriaceous and glabrous,with indistinct nerves. The stipes of the pitcher is given off belowthe apex of the leaf, is 20 inches long, and as thick as the finger.The broad ampullaceous pitcher is 6 inches in diameter, and 12 long:it has two fimbriated wings in front, is covered with long rusty hairsabove, is wholly studded with glands within, and the broad annulus[327]is everted, and 1–1½ inch in diameter. Operculum shortly stipitate,10 inches long and 8 broad.

“The inflorescence is hardly in proportion. Male raceme, 30 incheslong, of which 20 are occupied by the flowers; upper part and flowersclothed with short rusty pubescence. Peduncles slender, simple orbifid. Fruiting raceme stout. Peduncles 1½ inches long, often bifid.Capsule, ¾ inch long, ⅓ broad, rather turgid, densely covered withrusty tomentum.”[18]

The pitchers, as I have before observed, rest on the ground in acircle, and the young plants have cups of the same form as those ofthe old ones. This morning, while the men were cooking their rice, aswe sat before the tent enjoying our chocolate, observing one of ourfollowers carrying water in a splendid specimen of the NepenthesRajah, we desired him to bring it to us, and found that it heldexactly four pint bottles. It was 19 inches in circumference. Weafterwards saw others apparently much larger, and Mr. Low, whilewandering in search of flowers, came upon one in which was a drownedrat.

As we ascended, we left the brushwood and entered a tangled jungle, butfew of the trees were large, and the spur of the mountain became verynarrow, sometimes not much wider than the path, and greatly encumberedat one part by the twining stems of the Nepenthes Edwardsiana.This handsome plant was not, however, much diffused along the spur, butconfined to a space about a quarter of a mile in length,[328] and grew uponthe trees around, with its fine pitchers hanging from all the lowerboughs. We measured one plant and it was twenty feet in length; it wasquite smooth, and the leaves were of a very acute shape at both ends.It is a long, cylindrical, finely-frilled pitcher, growing on everyleaf; one we picked measured twenty-one inches and a half long, by twoand a half in breadth. They swelled out a little towards the base,which is bright pea green, the rest of the cylinder being of a brightbrick-red colour. Its mouth is nearly circular, the column with theborder surrounding the mouth being finely formed of thin plates abouta sixth of an inch apart, and about the same in height, and both wereof a flesh colour; the handsome lid is of a circular shape. The driedspecimen forwarded to Dr. Hooker only measured eighteen inches. Theplant is epiphytal, growing on casuarinas (species nova). Thepitchers of the young creepers precisely resembled those of the olderones, except in size.

Whilst examining these, and vainly searching for their flowers, Mr. Lowcame upon a small species of a bright crimson colour; its pitchers werethree inches long, and one and a half broad at the widest part, and themouth was oblique. Another, but which may be the same in a more maturestate, was green, with irregular spots of purple, having stems of thelatter colour; it was a low plant, not reaching above four feet inheight.

A very handsome plant of a trailing habit also grew on this spur; ithad large bunches of beautiful flowers of the colour of the brightestof the seedling scarlet geraniums, and while endeavouring to obtain[329] aview to the eastward, my eye fell upon something of a beautiful white,which proved to be a lovely orchid. Of these Mr. Low made a greatcollection; I fear, however, it is not a new one.

The following is the botanical description of the NepenthesEdwardsiana:—

“Ascidia magna, ore lamellis latis disciformibus annularibus remotisinstructo.

“Nepenthes Edwardsiana, Low. MSS.—Foliis (6″ longis) crasse coriaceislonge petiolatis ellipticis, ascidiis magnis crasse pedunculatiscylindraceis basi ventricosis 8–18″ longis, ore lamellis annularibusdistantibus rigidis magnis cristato, collo elongato erecto,operculo cordato-rotundato, racemo simplici, rachi pedicellisqueferrugineo-tomentosis. (Tab. LXX.)

“Hab.—Kina Balu, north side; alt, 6,000–8,000 feet (Low).

“The leaves, ascidia, and pitchers sent by Mr. Low are all old, andnearly glabrous; but the young parts—rachis, peduncles of the panicle,and the calyx—are covered with ferruginous tomentum. One of thepitchers sent is eighteen inches long from the base to the apex of theerect operculum; it is two and a half inches in diameter below themouth, one and a half at the narrowest part (about one-third distantfrom the base), and the swollen part above the base is about two inchesin diameter. The beautiful annular discs which surround the mouth arethree-quarters of an inch in diameter.”[19]

We had occasionally very extensive prospects, and the day being brightand sunny, could obtain[330] almost an uninterrupted view of the wholecoast from Kimanis to Tampasuk, with glimpses of the river reachesbelow, winding among the hills, and flowing through the open plains ofTampasuk, Sulaman, and Tawaran, and beneath our feet were the sourcesof the Peñgantaran, which we crossed on our last expedition. The onlyinterruption was, in fact, the double peaks of Saduk Saduk, which isabout 6,000 feet high; and as we only ascended 6,200 feet, we werebut beginning to see over them. One side of that mountain is almostcleared to its summit for rice plantations, though the produce couldnot be very repaying. Mr. Lobb reached its top, but had, I believe, noinstruments to fix its height. From the north the two peaks are in aline, it then appears a sharp hill; and I should judge from its aspectthat it is sandstone to the summit.

We carefully examined the noble buttress on which we were encamped, andwere convinced that if ever the north of Borneo fall into the handsof a European power, no spot could be better suited for barracks thanMarei Parei. The climate is delightful: at sunrise the average was 56°;midday, 75°; sunset, 63°; and this temperature would keep Europeansoldiers in good health: there is water at hand, and up the westernspur a road could be easily made suited to cattle and horses; in fact,buffaloes are now occasionally driven from Labang Labang to Sayap.

The second day our men were more amenable to advice, and made greatpreparations to resist the cold, as the wind was rising and rainthreatening; but after a heavy shower, it cleared off, and we passeda very pleasant night. We found the most sustaining and[331] warmingnourishment on the mountains, was to boil or stew a couple of fowls,with a two-pound tin of preserved soup. As we scarcely ever rested muchduring the day our appetites were keen, and we retired to our beds veryshortly after seven to enjoy an almost uninterrupted sleep from eighttill daylight.

Having finished collecting the plants of this spur, we returned toKiau, and noticed during our walk that the sources of the Hobang andPinokok cut very deep valleys into the actual mountain, and after theheavy rain last night, foaming cascades were visible in these as yetunlit valleys, for the morning sun had not risen above the mountaintops.

The villagers appeared to be very glad to get us back among them, andthe girls became friendly and familiar; they even approached us andsat at the end of our mats, and talked, and laughed, and addressed uslittle speeches, which were, of course, nearly unintelligible, thoughwe were making progress in the language. They had evidently been verymuch interested in all our movements; and as our toilettes were made inpublic, they could observe that every morning we bathed, cleaned ourteeth, brushed and combed our hair, and went through our other ordinaryoccupations.

To-day they had grown more bold, and were evidently making fun of thescrupulous care we were bestowing on our persons while the cook waspreparing our breakfast. We thought that we would good-humouredly turnthe laugh against them, so we selected one who had the dirtiest faceamong them—and it was difficult to select where all were dirty—andasked her to glance at herself in the looking-glass.[332] She did so, andthen passed it round to the others; we then asked them which theythought looked best, cleanliness or dirt: this was received with auniversal giggle.

We had brought with us several dozen cheap looking-glasses, so we toldIseiom, the daughter of Li Moung, our host, that if she would go andwash her face we would give her one. She treated the offer with scorn,tossed her head, and went into her father’s room. But, about half anhour afterwards, we saw her come in to the house and try to mix quietlywith the crowd; but it was of no use, her companions soon noticed shehad a clean face, and pushed her into the front to be inspected. Sheblushingly received her looking-glass and ran away, amid the laughterof the crowd of girls. The example had a great effect, however, andbefore evening the following girls had received a looking-glass. Imention their names as specimens:—Ikara, Beiom, Sugan, Rambeiong,Iduñgat, Tirandam, Idoñg, Sei, and Sinéo. Among the males near wereKadsio, the trouser-maker, Bintarang, Lakaman, and Banul, who had lenthis kitchen to us.

We spent a couple of days quietly at the village, waiting the arrivalof our party: reports often reached us that they were not far off, andat last they came in, but sadly reduced in numbers. Seven had deserted,while one had stayed behind to look after his companion Sahat, who hadbeen stricken with cholera while passing through Si Nilau. However,they brought sufficient rice to last us during the ascent of themountain, as well as a few condiments for ourselves. We heard, also,to our satisfaction[333] that the chief of Gantisan had seized Kamis thenegro, and had confined him for theft and desertion.

All our preparations being completed, we started for our expeditionto the summit of the mountain, following a path along the side ofthe valley, which ran below the houses, and was crossed by miniaturetorrents at various places. The ground was all under cultivation,principally tobacco and kiladis. Being in admirable walking conditionfrom our regular exercise, we soon passed the hut where Mr. Lowhad rested during my former ascent, and crossing the stream, foundourselves in freshly-cleared ground, where crowds of women andchildren were planting rice. The ashes from the burning of the treesand brushwood must assist greatly to fertilize the soil, otherwise wecould scarcely conceive that seed placed in a little hole driven in thehard-baked ground could produce a crop. It was a burning-hot day, andour men appeared to suffer severely in passing along this unshelteredpath, so it was a relief to enter the forest.

We advanced by the same way I followed on the previous occasion; it wassteep, and but rarely traversed, except by the rat snarers. The fartherwe advanced, the more numerous were the traps, but during our ascentnone were caught. In fact, these wary animals are seldom taken, exceptwhen trying to escape from the active village curs. We heard the shoutsof the hunters below, and the bark of the dogs, but we had passedon before they reached the path. The mountain-rat seems a favouritearticle of food among the Kiaus, though they do not eat those[334] whichfrequent the houses. The edible animal is about the size of the greyNorway rat, and is of the Bandacoot species.

At 4,400 feet elevation we pitched our tents; and here Li Moung and LiMaing, who had accompanied us so far, handed us over to the youngermen, headed by Kamá, and returned home. We hired both these leaders, aswe were unwilling to be the cause of a feud arising in the tribe, andby following this course we kept friends with both parties.

We started early next morning, and after three hours climbing of thesub-spurs, which were occasionally very steep, we reached the ridge ofthe great buttress, and the walking became easier. We passed to-day thehut that I had constructed on the former occasion. As I have beforeobserved, this ridge is occasionally very narrow, and where it has beenexposed to the full force of the monsoons, the trees bent over us, soas often to necessitate our crawling beneath their overhanging trunks;for those who carried burdens it was tiresome work, particularly asthe ground and trees were covered with soppy moss, cold and unpleasantto the touch. Where we did not crawl, we had often to advance in astooping posture. Occasionally we passed between fine forest trees,with thickly-growing bamboo beneath them, but these were only to befound in deep or sheltered spots. When we joined the first ridge, wecame upon numerous flowers of a rhododendron scattered over the surfaceof the ground, and it was some time before we could find the plant, butMr. Low’s quick eye at last discovered it. It looked gorgeous, beingcompletely covered with bunches of flowers of a[335] brilliant scarlet, andin masses of colour, as forty-two blossoms were counted growing in oneof the bunches.

We at last reached a narrow, rocky ridge, covered with brushwood,but with thousands of plants of the beautiful Nepenthes Lowiigrowing among them. As water was to be had near, at a little marshyspot, we determined to pitch our tents here, and spend the eveningcollecting specimens. Our guides, however, strongly objected to this,and declared we must reach the cave to-night; but as this involveda climb of nearly 3,000 feet more, we declined, disregarding theirthreats that they would leave us where we were and return to theirhouses. Our coast men appeared totally unfit for such an exertion,though the cold weather had an invigorating effect upon ourselves.

There was another great objection to this rapid ascent: it preventedour seeing anything, or enjoying the views that this lovely weatherpromised to afford. It was true that day the scenery had been obscuredby the blinding columns of smoke rising in every direction from theburning felled forest, but that objection might not hold another day.To the eastward, we had glimpses of high mountains, and of a riverrunning through a plain.

I have seldom witnessed any of those beautiful phenomena of which Ihave read—as double sunsets—but that evening we witnessed one. Adark cloud hung over the horizon, and beneath it we saw a sun, clearand well-defined, set in vapour: we hurried on our preparations forthe night, for fear darkness should overtake us, when the true sun,suddenly bursting from behind the concealing cloud, restored the day.I never saw men so astonished as were our followers,[336] and we were ascompletely deceived as they were, though we did not give the sameexplanation, that we had fallen among jinn and other supernaturalcreatures.

We sent our men on next morning to wait for us at the cave, while westayed behind to collect specimens of the Nepenthes Lowii andthe Nepenthes Villosa. The former is, in my opinion, the mostlovely of them all, and its shape is most elegant. I will give Dr.Hooker’s botanical description of both.

“Ascidia magna, curva, basi inflata, medio constricta, deinampliata, infundibuliformia; ore maximo, latissimo, annulo O.

“Nepenthes Lowii, H. f.—Caule robusto tereti, foliis crasse coriaceis,longe crasse petiolatis lineari-oblongis, ascidiis magnis curvis basiventricosis medio valde constrictis, ore maximo ampliato, annulo O,operculo oblongo intus dense longe setoso. (Tab. LXXI.)

“Hab.—Kina Balu; alt. 6,000–8,000 feet (Low).

“A noble species, with very remarkable pitchers, quite unlike thoseof any other species. They are curved, 4–10 inches long, swollen atthe base, then much constricted, and suddenly dilating to a broad,wide, open mouth with glossy shelving inner walls, and a minute rowof low tubercles round the circumference; they are of a bright peagreen, mottled inside with purple. The leaves closely resemble those ofEdwardsiana and Boschiana in size, form, and texture, butare more linear-oblong.

“I have specimens of what are sent as the male flower and fruit,but not being attached, I have not ventured to describe them assuch. The male raceme [337]is eight inches long, dense flowered.Peduncles simple. Perianth with depressed glands on the inner surface,externally rufous and pubescent. Column long and slender. Femaleinflorescence: a very dense oblong panicle; rachis, peduncles,perianth, and fruit covered with rusty tomentum. Capsules, two-thirdsof an inch long, one-sixth of an inch broad.”[20]

The outside colour of the pitchers is a bright pea-green, theinside dark mahogany; the lid is green, while the glandular aremahogany-coloured. A very elegant claret jug might be made of thisshape.

“Ascidia magna, ore lamellis latis disciformibus annularibus remotisinstructo.

“Nepenthes Villosa, H. f. (Hook, Ic. Pl. t. 888).—Ascidia magnaturgida late pyriformia coriacea, 5″ longa, 3½″ lata, alis anticismediocribus grosse dentatis, ore aperto annulo maximo! lamellisannularibus distantibus disciformibus rigidis, 1″ diam., cristatisposticis in spinas rigidas ½″ longas, fundum ascidii spectantibusproductis, collo elongato erecto, operculo orbiculato intus densissimeglanduloso dorso basi longe cornuto. (Tab. LXIX.)

“Hab.—Borneo (Lobb), Kina Balu, alt. 8,000–9,000 feet(Low).

“... The whole inner surface of the pitcher is glandular, except a verynarrow area beneath the mouth at the back.”[20]

The pitchers of the young plant resemble the old, and their colourlooks like that of a downy peach skin, with a great deal of darkcrimson in it. The circular[338] annulus is like flesh-coloured wax, itslid dull green, with red shading in the centre.

The Nepenthes Villosa continued to skirt our path for the nexttwo thousand feet; and among the most extraordinary shrubs was theheath rhododendron.

At an open space about 7,500 feet above the level of the sea, we had afine view of the south and south-east part of Borneo, which stretchesaway to the great river of Kina Batañgan. Numerous mountain rangesand lofty peaks, some estimated as high as 7,000 to 8,000 feet, wereclearly visible. Between us and the mountains bearing south-east byeast, and apparently eighteen miles off, there was a grassy plain,perhaps three miles by two, in which were many villages; and throughthis there flowed a rather large river. We could trace its course asfar as the third spur that springs from the main buttress of Kina Balu,on which we now stood. There, a line of hills appeared to obstructit; but beyond we could again trace the course of a stream which mayprobably be its source. This river, our guide stated, fell into thelake of Kina Balu. It runs from south-west to north-east. With theexception of the plain above mentioned, and a marsh, whose commencementwe could observe north-east of the plain, all the country appearedhilly. Most of the land was cleared, and either under cultivation, orshowing the remains of former farms. We could observe in the secondvalley two villages: the first called Tuhan; the next, Inserban. Atboth cotton is stated to be cultivated. Many more distant villages anddetached houses could be seen to the south-east, whose names our guideshad forgotten.

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The road to the lake is by the above-mentioned villages. The names ofthose beyond are Penusuk, Tambian, Paka, and Koporiñgan. These areeither on the route, or close to the lake.

We sat looking at this extensive view, and enjoying the refreshingbreeze and the bright sun. Kamá was in a communicative mood to-day,and we had a long talk about the great lake. We could clearly perceivethat it was not in the position assigned to it in all the maps, as thewhole country from east-south-east to the western coast was distinctlyvisible, and the Ida’an expressly stated that it was farther to thenorth and east of the little plain I have before noticed. Its sizewould, I believe, entirely depend on the season it was visited, as theheavy rains would cause it to overflow the country, and probably addthe marsh and plain we saw to its extent, and the native travellerswould naturally give different accounts.

We now continued our ascent to the cave by the same path I followedbefore, and found it quite sufficient for a day’s journey. The caveproved to be above 9,000 feet above the level of the sea; and althoughwe tried by fires and hanging up oiled cloths before the entrance tokeep out the raw night air, yet the men felt it very cold.

We started early next morning for the summit, with a clear sky anda brilliant sun, through thickets of the scarlet and rosy-purplerhododendrons which extended for nearly a thousand feet above the cave,and soon reached the granite slopes, which, by the clinometer, we foundto have an angle varying from 35° to 39° at the steepest parts. LeavingLow’s Gully on the right, where the purple or rather[340] blood-colouredrhododendron flourishes, we pushed on for the terrace lying between thesouthern and northern peaks.

As I spent very little of my time in looking for plants, I reached itsome time before my fellow-traveller, and was surprised to find thegreat ease with which we could converse, although more than a quarterof a mile apart. It really required no effort, and the air appearedso transparent as to render it difficult to judge of distances. FromLow’s Gully to the north-western peak does not exceed two miles; andwe were struck by a remarkable feature in the granite rocks, which runin a broken line along the northern face of the summit. It appeared asif they were lying in strata, which partly accounts for the angulargranite we observed in the streams below.

When I first reached the terrace the sun was shining brightly on thelandscape below, and my first impulse was to turn to look for thatlofty mountain of which I had obtained a glimpse during my formerascent, but the southern peak shut in that view, and I had to contentmyself with the still extensive prospect. Looking over the valley ofPinokok, I could distinctly trace the coast line down even to Labuan,which, though somewhat hazy, was yet visible, near the great mountainsof Brayong and Si Guntang. The Bay of Kimanis was to be seen in all itsdistinctness, and, with Nosong Point, Pulo Tiga, and Papar Headland,looked at this distance almost land-locked. Gaya island was therevisible, but the bay was shut in by its surrounding hills. Mengkabongand Sulaman waters showed clear, and I could occasionally[341] observesome reaches of the Tawaran glistening among the fruit groves ofthe plain. The horizon was perhaps distant a hundred miles, showinga broad expanse of ocean. We stood looking at this prospect withgreat pleasure; but at last, being joined by the man who carried thebarometer, I left Mr. Low to prepare the instrument, and started forthe north-western peak, from which I hoped to have the most extensiveview to be seen in all Borneo, and to have the satisfaction ofexamining that heap of stones which looked like a cairn from below.

It was easy to get to its base. On the northern side of it were heapsof broken but angular granite, which appeared to have fallen fromits sides, leaving a perpendicular face, a little overhanging at thesummit. The slabs of granite, which peel off its western and southernsides, roll on a sharp slope, and must glide down to fall over thegreat precipice overlooking the valley of Pinokok. The heaps I observedto the south move more slowly onward towards the cliff, as the inclineis less.

I tried to reach the summit of this peak by a narrow edge of rockabutting from its southern front; but after following it with my facetowards it, and moving sideways with my arms stretched out on eitherside, till it narrowed to about eight inches, I thought it prudent toreturn; but at a spot where I had secure footing, I pitched a stoneon the summit, which was about forty feet above the highest point Ireached.

I had scarcely regained the base, when I saw a thick white cloudsuddenly sweep up from the north, and heavy rain and gusts of wind soonwetted us[342] through and chilled us to the bone. I hurried along the hugenatural wall which skirts the northern edge of the summit, and is thetermination of the great terrace, to join Mr. Low, and then heard thatlast night’s rain had wet the leather of Adie’s barometer, and it wouldnot act. We tried the boiling-water thermometers, but in this stormof wind, rain, and hail, though we managed to light the spirit-lamp,we could not read the number of degrees, the apparatus appearingdefective. We waited for nearly two hours, hoping it would blow over;but it only increased in violence, and enveloped in this rain-cloud, wecould not see fifty yards.

Unwillingly we now attended to the remonstrances of our shiveringfollowers, and commenced descending. The wind veered round suddenly tothe east, and drove the sleet and hail into our faces, while torrentsformed in every direction, and rushed over the smooth surface of thegranite. To descend was a work of danger, as the streams of watercrossed our path in every direction; and had we lost our footing whilepassing them, we should have been sent gliding down to the precipices.It was bitterly cold, the thermometer at two P.M. falling to43°. As we approached the steeper incline, the velocity of the runningwater increased, and in one place, even Kamá appeared at fault, as thegranite was as slippery as glass, being reduced to a fine polish, as itformed the course down which the rains always ran; but at last findinga crevice, into which we could insert the sides of our feet, we managedto pass the momentarily swelling torrent. One of our Malays was seizedwith fever and ague at this most difficult part of the[343] descent; but hebehaved manfully, and managed, by his own exertions, to get down thegranite slopes. My Chinese boy, Ahtan, fell, and rolled over severaltimes, but escaped with a slight wound, but heavy bruises. One Malay’sfeet slipped from under him, and he fell heavily on his back, but hishead escaped, as he was carrying on his shoulders a large basket fullof flowers.

During both ascents, I observed the men carefully examining thecrevices of the granite in search of little pieces of very transparentquartz, which were to be found there. I picked up, during the formertrip, a little of them, that were greatly prized by the ladies of thecapital, who had them inserted into rings.

After three hours’ hard work, we reached the cave, in company with ourinvalids. The poor fever-stricken Malay looked in a woful plight, butwe gave him immediately ten grains of quinine in a glass of whiskey,and by evening the fit was over. We found many of our men were injuredby falls, but not seriously. Though Mr. Low made a fine collection ofherbaceous and other plants, yet we were greatly disappointed with theresult of our ascent, as the injury to the barometer was caused by ourown carelessness.

We determined, however, to reascend to the summit next morning; but ontrying the boiling-water thermometers, they did not act properly, andvaried five degrees: the barometer also continued useless. We thereforegave up our intention, particularly when we found that all the Ida’anguides were making up their packets, declaring nothing should inducethem to go through such exposure as they[344] suffered yesterday, and as wefound many of our men were ailing, we unwillingly, therefore, commencedour descent, collecting plants by the way, and spent the night at thehut I had erected during my first expedition.

Next day we reached the village of Kiau, and had a very different kindof settling day from the last. Lemoung was civil and obliging, andall appeared sorry at our leaving them, and begged us to return againas soon as possible, promising to take us to the lake, or wherever wemight choose to go.

The girls now presented a very different appearance from before: theythronged round us, most of them with carefully-washed faces, andrequested us to remember their commissions. Some wanted thread andneedles, others looking-glasses and combs. As we did not intend toreascend the mountain, we, in return for the neat little baskets oftobacco with which they presented us, made a distribution among themof all our surplus warm clothing, and their delight was great; andLemoung’s daughter took so great a fancy to my comb and brush that,though unwilling, I was obliged to part with them.

When we started next morning, crowds of friendly faces were around, anda troop of girls walked with us part of the way; and on our leavingthem at the crown of the hill, they insisted upon our repeating thepromise to visit them again. The good impression we made upon thesevillagers may be of service to future travellers. We stopped at Koungfor the night, as many of our followers were ill, or suffering fromfalls received on that unlucky day on the summit of Kina Balu. We madethe old chief’s heart glad by presenting[345] him with one of our tents,and such goods as we could spare.

A hundred years ago, it was reported that the Ida’an were in the habitof purchasing Christian slaves of the pirates, in order to put them todeath for the sake of the heads. If it were ever true, I believe it isnot so now, as we never noticed dried skulls in any of their houses,except at Tamparuli; and if they had been given to any such practice,the Bajus, who never missed an opportunity to malign them, would havementioned the subject to us.

As we were anxious to get our large collection of plants as fast aspossible to the vessel, we pushed on next morning by the direct routeto Buñgol and breakfasted there, and, notwithstanding heavy rain,continued our journey to Kalawat.

Next day we reached Si Nilau, to find that poor Sahat was dead ofcholera, and that his companion had disappeared. We inquired about him,but could hear nothing. We asked for the rice that they had left here,but the owner of the house denied having any; though one of our guidesdiscovered hidden away in a corner all the goods belonging to Sahatand the missing man. The thief finding himself discovered, ran into aneighbouring house and began to beat the alarm signal on a drum, and ina very short time the neighbouring villagers were seen collecting inarms; but hearing the cause of the disturbance they dispersed, sayingthe English might settle with the old thief as they pleased. However,on inquiry, finding our missing follower was safe, we merely warned thevillager and continued our journey.

On arriving at Bawang we heard the distressing[346] intelligence thatcholera was in possession of all the villages. We met processions onthe river: old women, dressed up like the priestesses among the LandDayaks of Sarawak, were chanting and beating gongs, and on the banks ofthe stream were erected altars, round which gaily-dressed women weredancing with a slow, measured step.

We were surprised at the wealth displayed by the family of the old Datuof Tamparuli. There were silks, and gold brocade, and a large amountof gold ornaments. We arrived late, having walked in one day what hadtaken us three in our advance to the mountain.

During the night we were disturbed by the cries of some of the inmatesof our house, three of whom where suffering from attacks of cholera,and the only remedy they appeared to apply was water from the sacredjars, though they endeavoured to drive away the evil spirits by beatinggongs and drums all night. Three people had died the previous day, butwhen we left in the morning the sufferers I have before mentioned werestill alive. We had no medicines, not even a glass of spirits, to givethem.

Next morning we walked over to Pañgeran Sirail’s to breakfast, as ourfriends at Tamparuli were so much taken up with the awful visitationwhich had come upon them as to be unable to attend to anything else.In fact, though exceedingly hungry after our hard walking, we couldnot last night purchase anything for our dinner, and had to contentourselves with plain boiled rice. The Malay chief, however, was veryhospitable, and soon procured us fowls, and sent off to Pañgeran Duroupfor canoes to take us[347] across the lake. On our arrival at Gantisan wefound the cholera had left it, though not before it had carried offthirty-seven victims.

Signor Cuarteron came to visit us, and we kept him to dinner; but, inthe evening, the south-west monsoon commenced blowing so heavily, thatit was impossible for him to return to the vessel, and this was merelya commencement of what we had to expect. In the morning, however, itcleared up a little, and we landed to visit Pañgeran Madoud. He waserecting a very substantial-looking wharf, nearly a hundred yards inlength, to enable people to get ashore at all times of tide, and heintended it partly to give protection to very small trading prahusduring the south-west monsoon. It was a grand work for a Malay toconceive, and, although not constructed in a way likely to be verylasting, it was a good commencement. The Pañgeran had establishedhimself in a very comfortable house, and in his audience hall had alarge table and many chairs. He was very curious to hear everythingconnected with the great mountain, and begged, laughingly, for a singleseed of the lagundi fruit, that his youth might be restored to him. Wefound Kamis, the negro, looking very sad in the stocks, but he got offwith a very slight punishment; but, as a warning to others, we refusedto receive the deserters on board, and let them return in a nativeprahu.

We did not attempt to sail, as heavy clouds were driving across thehorizon, promising unsettled weather; and, in the afternoon, so heavya squall arose, that our anchor could not hold, and we began driftingtowards the shore. We hauled in the chain, but[348] when it was nearly allon board, we were not ten feet from the coral reefs opposite Gantisan.With extreme difficulty, on account of the breaking waves, we got thesmaller anchor into our boat, and sent it out fifty yards ahead, andhauling in that merely saved us from striking, as it came home aswell as the larger one. For two hours we continued sending out oneanchor after the other, but it did not keep us clear of the danger, asduring one heavy puff our pinnace struck the coral, and we thought shewould soon go to pieces; but this blast was followed by a momentarylull, during which we managed to haul out a hundred yards, and letgo both anchors; and, veering out as much chain as we could, we feltcomparatively safe. The storm broke on us again with great violence,but our anchors held.

For three days this dirty weather continued, blowing steadily fromthe south-west, and we had some difficulty in procuring supplies ofrice for our men. In fact, the village had but little in store, as allcommunication with the Dusuns had been put a stop to on account of thecholera. It was, therefore, fortunate we had not delayed our expeditiontill August, for we certainly would have been turned back, as all thepaths were now pamali or interdicted.

On the fifth day, the wind appearing to moderate, we set sail fromGantisan, intending to pass through the broad channel, between Gaya andSapanggar Islands; but, when we opened the sea, the waves were breakingin white foam, and so heavy a swell came in that our pinnace could notbeat against the wind: we, therefore, ran into a small harbour on[349] thenorth of Gaya Island, and anchored in thirteen fathoms. In the eveningwe landed, but, finding the jungle tangled, did not penetrate far; and,leaving Mr. Low to botanize, I strolled along the beach to the rockysandstone point.

I came there upon certain stones which appeared to me very curious.On the surface of some were marks, as if huge cups, three feet indiameter, were let into the rock and then filled up with a differentkind of sandstone. One only did I see which was detached from thesurrounding rock; it was round, with an edge two inches thick, raisedthree inches above the inner surface.

This little harbour is plentifully supplied with water, as severalsmall rivulets fall into it from the surrounding high land. We couldobserve the waves breaking on the sands and rocks at the mouth of theAnanam, as the wind drove the sea through the narrow and dangerouspassage between Gaya Island and the mainland. At night very heavy raincame on, and the wind moderated.

In the morning, though there was a heavy swell, the wind was moderate,and many fishing-boats were seen scattered over the surface of thebay. We hailed one, and the fishermen coming alongside with a largenumber for sale, we purchased all he had. Among them were several fishwhich frequent the coral rocks; one was small, slightly streaked withred, with very prickly fins, which the natives are careful to chop offbefore attempting to handle them, as, if wounded by one, the effectis as if poison had been injected into the flesh. There are also manyothers, whose fins are equally to be avoided.

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Some of the fish brought alongside were as beautiful as thosecelebrated in the Arabian tale, where “the fisherman, looking into thelake, saw in it fish of different colours—white, and red, and blue,and yellow;” indeed, they could not have been more beautiful thanours. In fact, all that are caught on coral reefs are remarkable forthe great variety of their colours; but I must particularly describeone which bore the palm from all its splendid companions. It wasabout ten inches in length, and had for the basis of its colours anemerald green, with a head of a lighter shade of the same hue, whichwas banded longitudinally with stripes of rosy pink, and lines of thesame beautiful tint were placed at intervals of an eighth of an inchtransversely across its whole body, the scales on which were verysmall. The two pectoral fins were rosy pink in the centre, surroundedby a broad band of ultramarine. The short dorsal and ventral fins,which were continued to the tail, were of the same colours, the pinkbeing inside. The tail was ultramarine outside, and the centre partof the fin of gamboge yellow: it had no anal fins. There was anotherextremely beautiful one of a pea-green colour: it appeared to be of thesame genus as the former.

The one streaked with red, with the poisonous fins, had firm flesh,and was rather pleasant to the taste; but in general their flavour andquality by no means equalled the brilliancy of their appearance. Weplaced the lovely emerald fish in a bucket of sea-water, but it soonturned on its back, and showed unmistakable signs of exhaustion. Itseemed a sin to dine off so beautiful a creature. However, I[351] sufferedfor it during the evening: I thought I was seized with cholera, andcould scarcely get rid of the pains in the stomach; but Mr. Low did notfeel any ill effects, so the fish may be harmless.

Next morning, there being a slight land breeze at early dawn, we stoodout to sea, notwithstanding the heavy swell, as the leaves of ourmountain collection were beginning to fade from their long confinementon board, though we had brought proper boxes in which to plant them.We soon got clear of the harbour; but no sooner did we begin to shapeour course down the coast, and get to the leeward of Gaya Island, thanthe breeze failed us, and the roll of the China seas appeared to beforcing us on the rocky point not half a mile off. We manned our boat,and attempted to tow the pinnace off shore, but our efforts would havebeen in vain had not the ebb tide gradually swept us beyond the island,and thus restored to us the faint land breeze. Presently it died away,but we were now beyond immediate danger; and though the heavy swellcontinued, there were no waves. As the sun was warm and brilliant, wefelt sure that in the afternoon we should have a fine sea breeze; sothat we were proportionably annoyed when our head man came to tell usthey had forgotten to replenish their casks at Gaya Island, and werenow without water. We sent the boat away, as it was impossible toforetell how many days we might be at sea; but before they returned,heavy clouds began to show on the western horizon, threatening badweather.

I never saw a more singular sight, as the long line of black cloudgradually gathered above the sea,[352] leaving a clear space below it,and waterspouts began to form. I counted at one time seventeen,either perfect or commencing. I carefully watched the whole process:the cloud appears to dip a little, and the sea below is agitated andcovered with foam; gradually a pillar begins to descend from on highwith a gyrating motion, and a corresponding pillar rises from the sea.Sometimes they meet, and the whole object is completed; at others, theydo not, and the water falls back into the ocean with great disturbance.I have watched them trying again and again to meet: sometimes the winddrives the cloud-pillar to an acute angle, and prevents the junction;at others, vain efforts, as vainly repeated, are made by sea andcloud. I have heard so many stories of danger to ships from thesewaterspouts that I always felt rather nervous when passing them in avery small vessel. Our boat being still away, we took advantage of thecommencement of the sea breeze to run under one of the islets to thesouth of Gaya and anchor there. Between the larger island and the pointof Api Api on the mainland I once attempted to pass, but we grounded ona coral reef; however, there is a passage, but a difficult one to thoseaccustomed to the coast.

I am not aware who inserted the names in the Admiralty charts, butthey are often ill spelt, and incorrectly placed. Loney Island, southof Gaya, is generally called Sinitahan, “Hold here,” Island, from thegreat protection it affords to native prahus in both monsoons; and ourinformants insisted that the islands marked Bantok, Baral, and Risa,should be Memanukan, Sulug, and Memutik, and that the[353] opposite point,called Lutut, or the Knee, should be Aru. I only mention this, as someof the officers in Labuan might be requested to furnish the correctnames to the Admiralty, as it is exceedingly inconvenient to voyagersalong the coast to ask for places by names which are not recognized bythe inhabitants. While speaking of these otherwise admirably correctcharts, I would draw attention to the fact, that the position ofTanjong Baram, or Baram Point, in the last published general chart ofBorneo, differs about ten miles from that given in the charts recordingthe surveys of Sir Edward Belcher and Commander Gordon. This requiresexplanation.

Our boat having joined us, we got under way, and stood towards PuloTiga; the weather was squally and the night proved unpleasant, withstrong gusts of wind and heavy rain, but in the morning we foundourselves opposite the island for which we were steering. A light landbreeze now carried us past Nosong Point, with its curious detachedrocks, but left us in a calm after we were a few miles from shore.

As usual, the sea breeze sprang up in the afternoon, but it came fromthe south-west. As we had been awake most of the previous night, wewere dozing in the afternoon, when a bustle over our heads startledus, and we went on deck to see what was the matter. We found we wereamong the Pine-tree Shoals, with a large water-washed rock, not markedin the charts, within fifty yards of us. To let go the anchor andtake in the sail, to meet a heavy squall from the westward, was thework of a moment. A heavy squall in a dangerous position is a thingto be remembered: you see advancing upon you an enormous[354] arch ofblack cloud, with a slightly white misty sky beneath, called by theMalays the wind’s eye, and when it breaks upon you with a force almostsufficient to lift you from your legs and sweep you into the sea, youfeel your own nothingness, and how impotent are most of our efforts tocontend against the elements.

That day it blew heavily, and much depended whether it were goodholding ground, but our principal fear was that another water-washedrock might be astern, on which if our vessel bumped she must go topieces. The villagers from the neighbouring coast saw our danger andthronged to the beach: but we paid little attention to them, as wekept our eyes on two points to watch if the pinnace drifted. The seaas far as the eye could reach was one sheet of curling waves, crestedwith foam, which broke upon our bows and washed our decks; but as thewind became stronger, we veered out cable, though cautiously, as wewere uncertain what hidden dangers there might be astern of us. It wasan anxious time, as the squall lasted two hours without abatement;but even storms must have an end, and half an hour before sunset thewind lessened, as it often does about that time, and we sent out ourboat to sound, and were soon able to have the pinnace towed clearof the water-washed rock, and setting sail we stood out to sea in anorth-westerly direction to give us a good offing. We sat up by turnsall that night, and amused ourselves by watching the hundreds of starsthat fell or shot across the heavens, as is usual in the month ofAugust; and I saw a brilliant meteor of a bluish colour, which appearedin the east, and[355] flashed across the dark sky to disappear almost in amoment. We reached Labuan by daylight the following morning.

I am sorry to say that we did not fulfil our promise to the Kiaus, togo and explore the lake. I fully intended doing so during my last visitto Borneo, but was prevented by my return home. I had not forgottentheir commissions, and had provided myself with a large store ofneedles and thread, which were, however, equally prized by the ladiesof Brunei.

I must add a few remarks respecting the plates of the Nepentheswhich appear in this volume; they are copied, as I have beforeobserved, from the magnificent plates published in the fourth partof the Transactions of the Linnean Society of London. It isimpossible to obtain a complete idea of these astonishing pitchersfrom the plates I have inserted, as I have been obliged to reduce themto the size of my work; but I the less regret this, as they have beendrawn the size of life in the Transactions. With regard to thecolouring, I obtained the assistance of Mr. Low, who first saw theplants, and has studied their appearance and growth; and many of theapparent contradictions in describing their appearance arise from thechange which takes place in their tints at different ages.

THE PHYSICAL AND POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE DISTRICTS LYINGBETWEEN GAYA BAY AND THE TAMPASUK RIVER;[21] WITH A GEOGRAPHICALSKETCH OF MALUDU BAY AND THE NORTH-EAST COAST OF BORNEO.

The Coast Line—The Rivers—The Bays—Gaya Bay—Abai—Characterof Interior Country—Plains—Hills—Kina Balu—FirstAscent by Mr. Low—Description of Summit—ThePeaks—The Northern Ranges—Steep Granite Slopes—TheSpurs—The Main Spur—Interior Country—DistantMountains—Plain—Villages—The Lake—Vegetation onKina Balu—The Rivers—The Ananam—The Kabatuan—TheMengkabong—The Tawaran—The Abai—The Tampasuk—ItsInterior—Political Geography—Inhabitants—The Lanuns—TheBajus—Mahomedans—Appearance—Their Women—Their Houses—Loveof co*ckfighting—Fine Breed of Fowls—Other Inhabitants—TheIda’an—Their Houses—Their Women—Tatooing—ComfortableHouse—Method of Government—No Wars—AboriginesHonest—Exceptions—Agriculture—Ploughing—Remnantof Chinese Civilization—Tobacco—Cotton—GoodSoil—Amount of Population—Numerous and ExtensiveVillages—The Tampasuk—The Tawaran—Mengkabong—OtherDistricts—Enumeration—Manufactures—LanunCloths—Trade—DifficultTravelling—Languages—Geology—Sandstone—Greenstone—Climateof Kina Balu temperate—Map—Addition—Maludu Bay—[357]Western Point—Western Shore—Mountains—Head ofBay—Population—Accounts compared—Bengkoka—Minerals—EasternPoint—Banguey—Difficult Navigation—Small Riversand Bays—Paitan—Sugut—Low Coast—Labuk Bay—HighLand—Benggaya—Labuk—Sandakan—Story of the Atas Man—KinaBatangan—Cape Unsang—Tungku—Population—The Ida’an—TheMahomedans.

The coast line, as viewed from the sea, presents the followingappearance: Gaya Island, and the shores of Gaya, and Sapangar Baysare hilly, and this continues to within a mile of the mouth of theMengkabong; the land then becomes flat, with the exception of theTambalan hill, as far as the mouth of the Sulaman creek or river.High land then commences, which continues for a short distance beyondthe Abai, when it again becomes low, and presents the same appearancefor many miles beyond the Tampasuk river, the coast being fringed byCasuarinas.

The mouths of the rivers Ananam, Kabatuan, Mengkabong, Tawaran,Sulaman, Abai, and Tampasuk are all shallow, and unfit for Europeanvessels; the deepest having but nine feet at low water, and with theexception of the Ananam, Kabatuan, and Abai, are much exposed duringboth monsoons, and are rendered dangerous by the numerous sandbanksthat lie off their mouths. The Ananam in Gaya Bay, and the Kabatuanin Sapangar Bay, are only suited for native craft. The Abai has morewater, and, its mouth being sheltered, small vessels, at certain timesof tide, might enter; within, the river deepens to four fathoms, andthe surrounding hills render it a perfectly land-locked harbour.

There are several bays along this coast which insure complete shelterfor shipping. The finest of[358] these harbours is that composed of thetwo bays Gaya and Sapangar, which is large enough to afford protectionduring both monsoons for every vessel that trades to the East; itcontains within itself minor harbours, as one on the north-east ofGaya Island, which has thirteen fathoms, and is perfectly safe;while abundance of fresh water may be obtained on its western shore.Lokporin, in Sapangar Bay, is also a secure anchorage. Gantisan, theMalay town on the north-eastern shore, though good for shipping, is notso secure for very small craft, as squalls from the south-west raiserather a heavy sea there. Several coral reefs jut out from the northernshore, with deep water on either side of them. This harbour is the mostimportant in Borneo, from its commanding position in the China seas,and from its great security.

Good shelter may also be found in Ambong and Usukan Bays, but I havenot entered them myself. Ambong is described as running deep intothe land, and surrounded by hills with smooth surfaces and of gentleascent; the alternations of wood and cleared land affording a mostbeautiful landscape. The harbour of Ambong abounds in beautifulsheltered little bays, but barred by coral patches, which riseexactly from the spots where they disturb the utility of these snugretreats.[22] The next, Abai, affords excellent shelter during bothmonsoons, though open to the north-west; it is, however, of inferiorimportance, though fresh water may be obtained in small quantitieson the grassy plain at the entrance of the river: water, however, israrely absent where the land is hilly. Wherever the country is low, andoccasionally[359] elsewhere, there are sandy beaches. The west end of GayaIsland, Gaya Head, and the points between Sulaman and Abai, are rocky;beyond these appear broad sandy beaches.

Passing the coast line, the country presents varied forms; the hillsthat surround Gaya harbour are low, and cleared at the top, bearingat present a rank crop of grass; others have a reddish tint, from theferruginous nature of the soil; the rest are covered with jungle.On entering the Kabatuan, the banks are lined with a narrow beltof mangrove, but the hills rise immediately at the back, and thischaracter appears to extend far into the interior both of the Kabatuanand Mengkabong. From the latter river to the Sulaman stretches a plain,perhaps seven miles in width, varied by a few very low hills. Thecountry changes here, and broken ranges extend to the Abai: hill andplain are then intermixed; but, as soon as we approach the Tampasuk,the country opens, and, for Borneo, an extensive plain spreadsout, reaching to the foot of the Maludu mountains. It is, however,occasionally diversified by low, undulating sandstone hills.

This flat, level ground is admirably adapted for rice cultivation, asit is grass land, without any jungle. On leaving these plains, rangesof hills commence, rising generally with great abruptness, presentingsteep sides and narrow ridges, and running, for the most part, in aneastern and western direction. There are, however, exceptions to theabove description: a few of the hills have easy slopes, and many ofthe ranges are connected by cross ridges running north and south,particularly at the heads of valleys[360] where the waters of the differenttributaries flow in opposite directions to join their main rivers.The highest of the hills we measured was under 3,000 feet. The rangestowards the interior are higher, and at the back of these are verylofty mountains, including Kina Balu,[23] 13,698 feet (Belcher); SadukSaduk, about 6,000 feet; and others, whose names we could not obtain,estimated at above 7,000 feet. All the hills in these districts that weexamined consisted of sandstone until we reached Kina Balu.

With regard to the height of that mountain, various opinions have beenentertained; but until some one is fortunate enough to reach its summitwith a good barometer, I think we may rest contented with Sir EdwardBelcher’s measurement by trigonometry. He makes it 13,698 feet. Mr.Low, on his first ascent, had a very inferior barometer; while duringthe last two expeditions we were provided with magnificent barometersby Adie; but unfortunate accidents rendered them useless. However,sufficient observations were taken to show that the first barometerwas incorrect, and, though both inclined, during our first jointexpedition, to place the height of the mountain at about 11,000 feet,the last makes us feel assured that we underrated the height. I am,therefore, inclined, from all the observations made, to think that SirEdward Belcher’s measurement is correct.

The summit of Kina Balu consists of syenite granite, which is in manyplaces so jointed as to give it the appearance of being stratified.About ten peaks spring from a line running from east to west, whileabout half a mile to the southward rises another[361] detached peak.Between the latter and the western portion of the former is an openspace, like a broad terrace, with sloping sides, down which huge slabsare continually gliding. The southern peak presents a very differentaspect, according to the point from which we view it: from the terrace,it looks sharp, not above a yard in breadth; while from the eastand west it seems quite rounded. This renders it comparatively easyof ascent. On three sides it is perpendicular, while, on the south,it presents no material difficulty. Without careful barometricalobservations it will be impossible to fix on the highest peak. Fromseveral views, the southern, the summit of which I gained during thefirst trip, appeared as high as the others, while from the terraceboth east and west appeared rather higher. The west has a roundedappearance; but we failed to discover a way of ascending to itssummit. I reached within perhaps forty feet, when it presented onlyperpendicular sides. It is gradually giving way before atmosphericinfluences, its northern base being covered with huge angular stonesthat have fallen; the summit is still overhanging, and much of itapparently ready to topple over. Between the western and eastern peaks,on the edge of the cliffs which overlook deep chasms below, is a sortof wall, principally of huge granite rocks, some so perched on theothers that at first sight it appears the work of man—geologicallyexplained, I suppose, by the wearing away of the softer portions of therock around. Some of the peaks present the appearance of a thumb, whileothers are massive, as those that rise on either side of the spot whereMr. Low, in 1851, left a bottle.

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The summit is above two miles in length; and I observed that, indescending to its N.W. and E. spurs, the rocks assume a perfectlyserrated appearance. Kina Balu extends a long distance towards the N.E.or E.N.E., its height varying perhaps from 10,000 to 11,000 feet: butpartially divided from the parent mountain by a deep chasm. From thetop, we did not see this portion of the mountain; in fact, the mistgenerally obscured the view, leaving but patches visible. The summit ofthe mountain, as I have before observed, consists of syenite granite;but every here and there it is crossed by belts of a white rock. Forabout 3,000 feet below the peaks there is but little vegetation, andthe face of granite sweeps steeply up at an angle of 37½ degrees. Inthe gullies, and in other sheltered spots, are thickets of floweringshrubs, principally of rhododendrons—a few even extending to the baseof the peaks, particularly in the “bottle gully.”

From what we observed, the summit of the mountain can only be reachedby the way we followed—I mean that portion above 9,000 feet. To thatspot there are said to be two paths. Kina Balu throws out, on everyside, great shoulders, or spurs, which have also their sub-spurs. Theprincipal are the N.W., very steep; the W.N.W., which subdivides. Onthe western face of the mountain there are but minor spurs, whichleave 5,000 feet of precipice above them. From the southward, two hugespurs extend: on one is the village of Kiau. It springs from the leftof the southern face, and running S.W., turns to west and by north,and subdivides. The next spur that springs from the[363] eastern portionof the southern face is, in every respect, the most important. It maybe called, for the sake of distinction, the main spur. Those to theleft we could not observe fully, as we then only saw them from above,but from the north-east coast they appeared to slope very gradually.The main spur runs at first to the S.W. for about five miles; it thenfollows almost a S.S.W. direction for about twenty miles, throwing off,on either side, many sub-spurs. A glance at the map will best explainmy meaning. This is the range that is observed from the sea, and gavethe notion of a back-bone to Borneo; but beyond these twenty-five milesit does not appear to extend. In fact, mountain ranges, running to theeast and west, are distinctly visible—the first, at not a greaterdistance than thirty-five or thirty-six miles, appears to cross closeto the end of the main spur. If we were disappointed by not obtainingcomplete views from the summit, we were partially repaid by the clearview we had of the country lying to the S. and S.E. of Kina Balu. Wewere at an elevation of between 7,000 and 8,000 feet on the main spur,and observed numerous mountain ranges whose bearings I will give.

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The latter is stated to be in the Kina Batañgan country. The distancesand heights are estimated.

Between us and the mountains, bearing S.E. by E. eighteen miles, therewas a grassy plain, perhaps three miles by two, on which were manyvillages, and through this there flowed a fair-sized river. We couldtrace its course as far as the third spur that springs from the mainone; then a line of hills appeared to obstruct it; but beyond we couldagain trace the course of a stream, which is probably its source. Thisriver, it was stated by the people of the country, flows into the lakeof Kina Balu. It runs from the S.W. to the N.E. With the exception ofthe plain above-mentioned and a marsh, whose commencement we couldobserve north-east of the plain, all the country appeared hilly, andmost of the land was cleared, and either under cultivation, or showedthe remains of former plantations. We could observe in the secondvalley two villages—the first called Tuhan, the next Inserban, and atboth cotton is said to be cultivated. Many villages and detached houseswere also observed, whose names our guides had forgotten. The road tothe lake is by the two above-mentioned villages, while the names ofthose beyond are Penusuk, Tambian, Paka, and Koporiñgan—these arestated to be on the route, or close to the lake. A few words concerningthis mythic sheet of water, as it has generally been considered: thatit exists to the east of the mountain appears from inquiry to be almostcertain. Its size it is unnecessary to estimate, though our informantsstated that, standing on one bank, it was not possible to see theopposite one. It cannot, however, be of the great size marked[365] in theold maps, or in the situation assigned to it, as the whole country,from E.S.E. to the western coast, was distinctly visible, and theIda’an expressly stated that it was farther to the north and east ofthe plain I have before noticed. Mr. Low made many inquiries during ourfirst trip, and we jointly questioned the Ida’an, on many occasionsduring our long stay at the Kiau village, and they spoke of it as acertainty, many affirming that they themselves had been on tradingexpeditions to it. I may add that Mr. De Crespigny, who lived some timeat Maludu Bay, heard that the lake was to the south of Kina Balu, whereit certainly is not. Peterman’s map is entirely incorrect as to theposition of the lake.

I must now make a few remarks on the vegetation which covered themountain. Cultivation extends, in a few places, to the height of 3,500feet, but beyond that there is a fine jungle, on the main spur, to theheight of 6,000 feet; it then begins to degenerate, and in the exposedportion of the ridge the trees are bent across the path, inferior insize and covered with moss. But above this height, in sheltered spots,the trees again increase in size; beyond 7,000 feet, however, thereare few fine trees, the vegetation changing its character, most of itconsisting of flowering shrubs, varying in height from ten to twentyfeet. The trees, however, on the sides of the spurs continued of acomparatively large size until we had passed 9,000 feet; at 10,000feet the shrubbery became very straggling, and above that it was onlyscattered among the granite rocks. On the W.N.W. spur, called theMarei Parei, the vegetation even at 4,500 feet was exceedingly stuntedin many places;[366] while above, in equally exposed situations, thejungle was of fair size: probably, the nature of the soil may accountfor it, that of the Marei Parei district being formed of decomposedserpentine, containing very much peroxide of iron. Kina Balu appears tobe the seat of the pitcher-plant, Mr. Low having made a collection ofextraordinary-shaped ones—perhaps the most beautiful in the world.

At the risk of repetition, I will make a few observations on eachof the rivers which drain these districts. I have already remarkedthat the shallowness of their mouths renders them unfit for Europeancommerce; in fact, the fresh-water streams soon become mere mountaintorrents. The Ananam I have not ascended; the Kabatuan is apparentlybut a collection of salt-water creeks, with a few fresh-water rivulets.The former town of Meñggatal was situated about three miles up it, andonly at flood tide would it float a frigate’s barge. Near the town thebanks were grassy, and many cocoa-nuts were grown in the neighbourhood.The Mengkabong, also, can scarcely be called a river; it is rather alarge salt-water lake with numerous islands, some containing hillsof several hundred feet in height; it is very shallow, many portionsof it being dry at low tides, while others have but a few inches ofwater. It appears to be filling up fast, and, perhaps, affords a clueto the cause of the formation of the plains that extend beyond, whichall appear to be composed of alluvial deposits. Many fresh-waterrivulets drain the neighbouring hills, and pour their waters into thiscreek, but it is always salt; it extends, perhaps, five or six milesin a straight line from the shore.[367] The Sulaman I have not entered,but I have seen it from the hills on many occasions; it presentsthe appearance of a lake, and is reported as a salt-water creek. Wecould observe, by the rivulets that drained into the Tawaran, thatthe Sulaman has no interior, but it has a depth of twelve feet at itsentrance. The Tawaran, on the contrary, is a fresh-water river evento its mouth, the flood-tides making but a slight impression on it.Large native prahus can safely ascend it for six miles; after that itdepends on the state of the weather, rising and falling very rapidly asit is influenced by the rains. The banks of the river as far as Bawangvillage are flat; there the hills commence; and three miles beyond theTawaran divides into two branches; one coming from the south, the otherfrom the E.S.E. They immediately degenerate into mountain torrents, andare not to be used by boats, but at some risk produce is occasionallybrought down on rafts. Every range of hills affords the parent streama rivulet, but the Tawaran does not penetrate far into the country;its sources are in the main spur of Kina Balu; the east branch risingbetween the second and third sub-spur, on the west side of the mainspur; the southern branch appears very small. On both occasions Ipassed the Tawaran, it was of a dirty yellow colour, being filled withthe detritus of the neighbouring hills. Land slips are very common,which afford a considerable amount of matter for the torrents to carryseawards. The Tawaran is subject to very sudden inundations, the watersoccasionally reaching the houses at the village of Buñgol, though fiftyfeet above the stream. There is no foundation for Dalrymple’s[368] story,which has been often repeated, of the Tawaran rising in the lake; itevidently springs from the main spur of Kina Balu.

The Abai is a salt-water creek, but preserving more the appearance ofa river; much of both banks are mangrove until we approach the houses.Its depth varies: on the bar it is but one fathom, while inside itdeepens to four, and it has a channel to the villages of about twofathoms. It is a favourite anchorage for native prahus, being admirablyadapted for them. Two small rivulets join the Abai; the Gading, and thePaka Paka, both inhabited by the Ida’an.

The Tampasuk is essentially a fresh-water river, very similar tothe Tawaran, of no importance to European ships, except that in wetseasons its waters run unmixed half a mile out to sea. It differs fromthe Tawaran, in having occasionally immense granite boulders in thestream; while the latter drains only a sandstone country; but, likethe Tawaran, it divides into two branches; the eastern one flows fromthe northern portion of Kina Balu. We could observe its direction forabove ten miles, as it ran through the low land, and its course wasE.S.E. from the junction. The Pengantaran, that drains a portion of thenorth-west of Kina Balu, bringing down immense quantities of blocks ofserpentine, is the only other stream worth noticing. The natives seldommake use of the Tampasuk beyond the spot where the river divides,though above it rafts are occasionally used; but it evidently is not ageneral practice, as the river is filled with fish traps, which requirethe stream to be dammed across with loose stone walls.

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The hills do not press closely to the river’s banks; if they do so onone side, the other is certain to have a strip of low land, along whichthe path is carried; in fact, from the sea to Koung village there isbut one steep hill to cross. Sometimes there are small plains, thatskirt the banks; at others, gently sloping fields. The steep hillscommence a few miles below Koung, on the left bank, and continue, withfew exceptions, to the base of Kina Balu. The village of Labang Labang,on a spur of Saduk Saduk, has an easy slope from Koung, while towardsthe great mountain it is very steep. Near Labang Labang the riverdivides and assumes different names: the principal branch is called theKalupis; the other, the Dahombang, or Hobang, and this receives theKini Taki and the Pinokok. Between the Hobang and Pinokok streams is asort of table-land, about a couple of miles across, by perhaps four inlength; it is not absolutely flat, but the ground swells very gently.The Kalupis has its source at the very summit of the hill, and we couldtrace its course from the time it was but an inch deep, till collectingall the drainage of the top, it dashed past our resting-place (at 9,000feet) a fair-sized mountain torrent. About 1,000 feet below, at thehead of the Kalupis valley, it throws itself over the rocks, forming afine cascade of perhaps 1,500 feet in height.

I may notice that off the coast between Gaya Bay and the westernpoint of Maludu Bay there is often a very heavy ground swell, and therollers occasionally are so dangerous as to prevent vessels attemptingto communicate with the shallow rivers. I was once very anxious tovisit the Pandasan, but when we[370] arrived off its mouth, the rollerslooked so dangerous, that the captain of the steamer decided it wouldbe unsafe for the ship’s boats to venture in, and I scarcely regrettedhis determination. The ground swell was so great, that it was almostimpossible to stand on deck.

Having noticed the principal features connected with the physicalgeography, I will add a few notes on what Mr. Hamilton correctly callspolitical geography.

The population of these districts consists principally of threeclasses—the Lanun, the Baju, and the Ida’an or Dusun.

The Lanuns were formerly numerous, having populous settlements on theTawaran and the Tampasuk, as well as on the Pandasan and Layer Layerfarther west. They originally came from the large island of Magindanau,which is considered as the most southern island of the Philippinegroup. They have formed settlements on various points as convenientpiratical stations, particularly on the east coast at Tungku and otherplaces.

As I have elsewhere observed, not only did they pirate by sea, butthey created an unappeasable feud with the Ida’an, by stealing theirchildren. No race in the Archipelago equals the Lanun in courage; theIda’an therefore considering it useless to make regular attacks, hungabout the villages, and by destroying small parties, forced the Lanunsto leave Tawaran, who then joined their countrymen at Tampasuk. SirThomas Cochrane attacked both Pandasan and Tampasuk, which induced themost piratical portion to retire to the east coast. At present butfew remain in Tampasuk; they are[371] not considered to have more than150 fighting men; they are essentially strangers, and unpopular. Theyseldom form regular governments, but attach themselves to certainchiefs, who are partial to high-sounding titles, particularly thoseof sultan and rajah. These chiefs are independent of each other,and unite only for defence, or for an extensive expedition. They,however, are gradually leaving these districts. Although Mahomedans,their women are not shut up; on the contrary, they freely mix withthe men, and even join in public deliberations, and are said to betolerably good-looking. The men I have seen are better featured thanthe Malays or Bajus. Our slight knowledge of the Lanuns partly arisesfrom the jealousy of the Bornean Government, which used to employ allits influence to prevent their frequenting Labuan in order to trade.This partly arose from a desire to prevent the development of ourcolony, and partly from an absurd idea that they could thus monopolizetheir trade; but the Lanuns, though often deterred from visiting oursettlement, seldom cared to meet the Bornean nobles.

The Bajus are scattered along the coast, their principal settlementsbeing at Mengkabong and Tampasuk. At Mengkabong they appear numerous,and perhaps could muster 1,000 fighting men; at Tampasuk, they estimatetheir own number at 600; at Pandasan, 400; at Abai, Sulaman, andAmbong, there are a few. Their origin is involved in obscurity: theyare evidently strangers. They self-style themselves Orang Sama, or Samamen. They principally occupy themselves with fishing, manufacturingsalt, and with petty trade. Some[372] breed cows, horses, and goats, whilea few plant rice, and have small gardens.

They profess the Mahomedan religion, and keep the fast with somestrictness; though, like the Malays, are probably but little acquaintedwith its tenets. The Bajus are not a handsome race—they have generallypinched-up, small faces, low foreheads, but bright eyes. The men areshort and slight, but very active; the women have a similar appearanceto the men, and are slighter than the Malay. They wear their hair tiedin a knot on the fore part of the crown of the head, which is veryunbecoming. The women appeared to have greater liberty than among theMalays, and came and sat near us and conversed. We saw many men thatdiffered totally from the above description; but on inquiry, we foundthey were of mixed breed: one, Baju, Lanun, Malay, and Chinese; thenext, Baju, Sulu, Lanun, and Malay. In fact, many intermarry, whichrenders it difficult to give a particular type for one race. The Bajusof Tampasuk nominally acknowledge a Datu as their chief, who receiveshis authority from Brunei; but they never pay taxes to the supremeGovernment, and seldom send even a present. They are individually veryindependent, and render no obedience to their chief, unless it suitstheir own convenience. They are, therefore, disunited, and unableto make head against the few Lanuns, with whom they have continualquarrels. Every man goes armed, and seldom walks. If he cannot procurea pony, he rides a cow or a buffalo, the latter generally carryingdouble. Their arms consist of a spear, shield, and sword. Their housesare similar to those of the Malays, being built[373] on posts, sometimesin the water, sometimes on the dry land. In Mengkabong, they are allon the water, and are very poor specimens of leaf-huts. The Tampasuknot affording water accommodation, the houses are built on shore.The only good one was the Datu’s, which consisted of a planked houseof two stories; the lower, occupied by the married portion of thefamily, consisted of one large room, with broad enclosed verandahs,occupied by the chief, his wife, and his followers, while the upperwas reserved for the young unmarried girls and children. Of furniturethere is little—mats, boxes, cooking utensils, and bed places beingthe principal. In these countries there are no public buildings, nooffices, jails, or hospitals, or even a fort or stockade; and thehouses being built of but temporary materials, there are no ancientbuildings of any description. The Bajus are very fond of co*ck-fighting,and in order to indulge in this sport with greater satisfaction,carefully rear a very fine breed of fowls, which are famous along thecoast. I have seen some of the co*cks as large as the Cochin Chinese.It is probable they are descended from those brought by the earlyimmigrants from China, as they no way resemble the ordinary Borneanbreed found in every Malay and Dayak village. They fatten readily, andthe hens bring up fine broods.

Mixed with the Bajus are a few Borneans; in Gantisan they form thebulk of the village; in Mengkabong they are not numerous; while in thenorthern districts there are few, if any. Of strangers, an occasionalIndian, African, or Chinese may be seen, but they are petty traders,who return to Labuan after a short residence.

[374]

The principal inhabitants of these districts consist of the Ida’an orDusun, the aboriginal population.[24] They are essentially the same inappearance as the Dayak, the Kayan, the Murut, and the Bisaya; theirhouses, dress, and manners are very similar, modified, of course, bycirc*mstances. In the Kabatuan, Mengkabong, Sulaman, and Abai are sometribes of Ida’an, but I have not visited their villages; I shall,therefore, confine myself to those I observed on the Tawaran andTampasuk.

On the banks of the Tawaran, where it flows through the plain, aremany villages of Ida’an, which are often completely hidden by grovesof fruit-trees. These men have a civilized appearance, wearing jacketsand trousers. As you advance into the interior, these graduallylessen, clothes being seen only on a few, as at Kiau, near Kina Balu;beyond, they are said to use the bark of trees. Some of the tribesin the Tawaran have followed the Malay fashion of living in smallhouses suitable for a single family; while others occupy the usuallong house, with the broad verandah, and separate rooms only for thefamilies. The house in which we lodged, at Ginambur on the Tampasuk,was the best I have ever seen among the aborigines. It was boardedwith finely-worked planks; the doors strong and excellently made,each also having a small opening for the dogs to go in and out; theflooring of bamboos, beaten out, was very neat and free from all dirt,which I have never before noticed in a Dayak house, where the dogsrender everything filthy. The Ginambur Ida’an are good specimens of theaborigines;[375] they are free from disease, and are clear-skinned; theyhave good-tempered countenances. None of the women are good-looking;still they are not ugly. All the girls and young women wear a pieceof cloth to conceal their bosoms: it was upheld by strips of colouredrattans: their petticoats were also longer than usual, and the younggirls had the front of the head shaved, like Chinese girls. I did notnotice that any of the men of that village were tatooed, but in ourwalk we had met parties of men from the interior who were so: a tatooedband, two inches broad, stretched in an arc from each shoulder, meetingon their stomachs, then turning off to their hips, and some of themhad a tatooed band extending from the shoulder to the hand. Many oftheir villages are extensive, as Koung, which is large, scattered ona grassy plain, with a portion on the hill above. It is a very prettyspot, the greensward stretching on either side of the river’s bank,where their buffaloes and cattle graze. This tribe has the appearanceof being rich; they possess abundance of cattle, pigs, fowls, rice,and vegetables, while the river affords them fish. Kiau is also anextensive village, but the houses and the people are very dirty.

None of these Ida’an pay any tribute, though many chiefs on the coastcall them their people; but it is merely nominal, no one daring tooppress them. Each village is a separate government, and almost eachhouse independent. They have no established chiefs, but follow thecouncils of the old men to whom they are related. They have no regularwars, which would induce them to unite more closely; their feuds arebut petty[376] quarrels, and in but one house did I observe heads, and thatwas at the village of Tamparuli, in the Tawaran plain. The very factof troops of girls working in the fields without male protection wouldprove the security that exists, though every male always walks armed.We had no opportunity of observing any of their ceremonies, and it isvery unsafe to trust to the information of interpreters.

The aborigines, in general, are so honest that little notice is takenof this good quality; however, to our surprise, we found that theseIda’an were not to be trusted. We were warned by the Bajus to take careof our things, but we felt no distrust. However, at Kiau they provedtheir thievish qualities, which, however, we frightened out of them, asduring our second residence we lost nothing there. At the village ofNilu one made an attempt, which we checked.

The Ida’an are essentially agriculturists, and raise rice, sweetpotatoes, the kiladi (Arum—an esculent root), yams, Indiancorn, sugar-cane, tobacco, and cotton. The sugar-cane is only raisedfor eating in its natural state, while the cotton is confined tocertain districts.

I first saw the natives ploughing in the Tampasuk; their plough isvery simple, and is constructed entirely of wood; it serves ratherto scratch the land than really to turn it over. The plough wasdrawn by a buffalo, and its action was the same as if a pointedstick had been dragged through the land to the depth of about fourinches. After ploughing, they use a rough harrow. In the Tawaran theyploughed better, the earth being partially turned over to the depthof about six inches. The Ida’an[377] have divided the land into squarefields with narrow banks between them, and each division being asmuch private property as English land, is considered very valuable,and the banks are made to keep in the water. Their crops are said tobe very plentiful. Simple as this agriculture is, it is superior toanything that exists south of Brunei, and it would be curious if wecould investigate the causes that have rendered this small portion ofBorneo, between the capital and Maludu Bay, so superior in agricultureto the rest. I think it is obviously a remnant of Chinese civilization.Pepper is not grown north of Gaya Bay, and is confined to the districtsbetween it and the capital.

The Ida’an use a species of sledge made of bamboos, and drawn bybuffaloes to take their heavy goods to market. The gardens on theTawaran are well kept and very neatly fenced in. On the hills theplough is not used, the land being too steep; and there the agriculturepresents nothing remarkable, beyond the great care displayed in keepingthe crops free from weeds. The tobacco is well attended to, and thesedistricts supply the whole coast, none being imported from abroad. Whencarefully cured, the flavour is considered as good, and the cultivationmight be easily extended. Of the cotton I can say little, as I did notfind that any of the tribes through whose country we passed cultivatedit, though they assured me they purchased their supplies from thevillages near the lake. The Tuhan and Inserban districts produce it,they said, in considerable quantities; and I observed the women, inseveral places, spinning yarn from the cotton. The Bajus obtain theirsupplies from a tribe[378] near Maludu Bay. Among the hills the implementsof agriculture consist of simply a parang chopper and a biliong, ornative axe, and the ground is, therefore, no more turned up than whatcan be effected by a pointed stick; in fact, the steepness of thevalley sides is against a very improved rice cultivation; it is betteradapted for coffee. Mr. Low, who has much experience, pronounces thesoil, a rich orange-coloured loam, to be superior to that of Ceylon,and, Kina Balu being but twenty-five miles from the sea-coast, thereare great advantages there. The plains are alluvial and very fertile.

With regard to the amount of population, all estimates would be mereguess work; but it must be considerable, as little old forest remains,except at the summits of lofty hills; the rest being either undercultivation or lying fallow with brushwood upon it. The tribes on theTampasuk estimated their own numbers at five thousand fighting-men; theTawaran tribes were equally numerous; but reducing that estimate, andputting together the various information received, I should be disposedto place the entire population of these districts at above fortythousand people. This is under rather than over the amount.

The five thousand fighting men who are stated by the Ida’an to live inthe Tampasuk are, they say, thus divided:—

[379]

It is impossible to verify this statement, but we may test itslightly by the observations made. The Piasau Ida’an, so named fromthe extensive groves of cocoa-nuts that surround their villages(piasau, a cocoa-nut), are spread over the Tampasuk plain, and Ithink I am understating, when I say we noticed above fifteen villages,and I should have myself placed their numbers much higher that fivehundred. The Ginambur was a large village, and there was another of thesame Ida’an about a mile off among the hills, which I passed through onour return. Buñgol is also stated at a thousand men. Our Malays, whovisited it, said that it was very large; while the extensive villageof Tambatuan, Peñgantaran, and Batong, with numerous others among thehills, have to be included in the Ginambur and Buñgol tribes. Koungis placed at five hundred, which is not a high estimate, there beingabout three hundred families in the village. Kiau is stated to containtwo thousand fighting men; in this number are included the village ofPinokok (small), of Labang Labang (large), of Sayap, which we did notsee. I should be inclined to reduce the Kiaus by five hundred men,though we understood them to say that their tribe was numerous beyondthe north-western spur, in the neighbourhood of Sayap. I think we shallnot be over-estimating the population by placing it at four thousandfighting Ida’an, or sixteen thousand inhabitants. Rejecting the womenand children, both male and female, and the aged, one in four maybe taken as the combatants. There were many villages on the easternbranch, some of Piasaus, others probably of Buñgol. The great extent[380]of country cleared shows the population to be comparatively numerous.I may make this observation, the result of many years’ experience,that I have seldom found the statements of the natives with regard topopulation above the truth. In Sarawak and the neighbouring rivers,where we had better means of ascertaining the correctness of theaccounts rendered, I have always found it necessary to add a third tothe numbers stated.

The Tawaran, perhaps, contains a population nearly equal to that of theTampasuk. The villages between the mouth and Bawang are numerous, butmuch concealed by groves of fruit-trees. Tamparuli was an extensivevillage, and Bawang of fair size. The Nilau tribe was scattered overthe sides of the hills. Kalawat was a large village, with perhapseighty families. Buñgol contains, perhaps, over one hundred and fiftyfamilies. The Tagoh, Bañgow, and other villages, were observed onsub-spurs; and beyond Buñgol the tribes must be numerous, if we mayjudge from the extensive fires made by them to clear their plantations.On the right-hand branch are also many villages, but we had noopportunity of examining them. By native accounts, the Tawaran districtis more populous than the Tampasuk.

Of Anaman I know nothing; of Kabatuan I saw little beyond the Malaytown; but I was informed that the Ida’an were numerous in the interiorof this river, as well as on the hills that surround Mengkabong. I haveplaced them at two thousand, which is not a high estimate.

Mengkabong contains also an extensive Baju population, and inestimating them at six thousand, it is,[381] I believe, much below thenumber. The villages are numerous, and the chief town large. It ispossible that there are not more than a thousand fighting-men, but theBajus are holders of slaves, and there are also many strangers settledamong them.

Sulaman is placed at a thousand, which includes both Baju and Ida’an,and may be a little over the mark; for it I have nothing but vaguenative testimony.

Abai contains about thirty houses, perhaps not above two hundredpeople; while on the hills are a few small villages of Ida’an. I haveput them at one hundred and twenty-five fighting-men, or five hundredin all.

Tampasuk contains about one hundred and fifty Lanun men, or sevenhundred and fifty population. Bajus, five hundred, or two thousand fivehundred people. I have multiplied the Lanun and Baju fighting-men byfive, as they have many slaves both male and female.

Gaya Bay contains about three hundred people.

The population of these districts may therefore be entered as follows:—

[382]

The only figures in the above which I think may possibly be overstated,are the Bajus of Tampasuk. We may fairly reckon the population of thedistricts between Gaya Bay and Tampasuk at forty-five thousand, beingquite aware, at the same time, that it is founded on very loose data;but it may serve as a guide to future inquirers.

There are but trifling manufactures carried on. The Bajus are muchoccupied in preparing salt for the inland tribes. The only othermanufacture that is worth noticing, is that of cloths from nativecotton, and the most esteemed are those of the Lanuns. The cloth isgenerally black, with a few white lines running through it, forming acheck. It is strong and more enduring than any other I have seen, andfetches a high price—varying from 1l. 5s. to 2l.10s. for a piece sufficient for a single petticoat. They are,however, deteriorating since the introduction of cheap English yarn,which is superseding the carefully-spun native. No minerals have asyet been discovered in these districts beyond the coal in Gaya Island,though tin has been found to the north of Kina Balu, near one of thestreams flowing into Maludu Bay.

There is but little trade carried on: the only articles of export aretobacco, rice, a little wax, cattle, and horses, or rather ponies;the imports consist of cloths, iron, gongs, and earthenware, withoccasionally a valuable jar. Little beyond tobacco is brought from theinterior, as everything is carried on men’s shoulders, none of theirpaths being as yet suited for loaded beasts.

It is a great drawback to this country, having[383] no navigable rivers,nor on the hills have they good paths. The latter are easily made, thecountry presenting no natural difficulties, while in the plains veryfair roads already exist, fit for their sledges. The tribes in theinterior are at present far beyond any commerce; in fact, the peoplenear the lake have never been visited by the coast population, andtrust to exchanging with the other Ida’an. But as the taste for clothis evidently on the increase, it is possible the trade may improve.Englishmen travelling in that country do great good by spreading ataste for European manufactures.

With respect to the languages spoken, I will at present make but fewremarks. The Lanun and Baju are entirely different from the languageof the Ida’an. I have made several vocabularies and many inquiries. AtKiau, we collected above 400 words; at Blimbing on the Limbang, 300;and whilst in Maludu Bay, seven years ago, I likewise made a shortvocabulary. These three agree so far that I may say that the Ida’an andBisaya have two out of three words in common; and on further inquiry, Ithink that the remaining one-third will gradually dwindle away, as atpresent many of the words in my Bisaya vocabulary are Malay, for whichthey have their native word. The result of my inquiries is that allthe Ida’an speak the same language with slight local differences. Wefound all the tribes on the Tampasuk and Tawaran spoke fluently to eachother, and one of our interpreters, who had never before visited thesecountries, but had been accustomed to the aborigines to the south,conversed freely with them. The Bisayas live on the rivers in theneighbourhood[384] of the capital, and their language differs but littlefrom that of the Ida’an.

The Ida’an contains but few Malay words, these generally referring toimported articles and domestic animals. Some are similar to those ofthe Land Dayaks of Sarawak.

I will add a few remarks on the geology of these districts, premisingthem, however, by the observation that I am ignorant of the science.Wherever the rocks protruded through the hills, we noticed they weredecomposing sandstone; and this character continued until we reachedthe great mountain. Occasionally, as in Gaya island, the rocks were ofa harder texture; and here a Mr. Molley is said to have been shown avein of coal. In the districts to the west and south of the Tampasuk,we noticed no signs of primitive rock; while in the Tampasuk river,huge boulders of granite are met with a little above Butong, while thedebris extends as far as the junction; but the rocks of the hills aresandstone, and this character continues to the base of the mountain.At Koung, the rocks dipped to the south-west by south, at an angleof 45°. On the Marei Parei spur, we could trace the sandstone to theheight of about 4,000 feet, the dip about 80° to the south-west;greenstone immediately after protruded, and appeared to form the chiefrock. On the Marei Parei spur, the compass was so affected by theperoxide of iron which formed a sort of coating to the rocks, that itwould not act. The main spur consists at first of sandstone; then ofshale, almost as hard as stone; and of various rocks which I could notrecognize; then of decomposing granite, above which commences the[385]massive outline of the summit. We found in our collection a piece oflimestone that was broken off somewhere near the base of the mountainin the Kalupis valley.

The country presents the appearance of having been originally ofsedimentary rocks, through which the granite has forced its way,upheaving the sandstone to an angle of 80°.

With regard to the climate, I made a few notes. The plain and low hillsare much the same as the rest of Borneo, or other tropical countries;but in the neighbourhood of Kina Balu it is of course different. Wefound at the village of Kiau that the thermometer never marked above77° during the day, and varied from 66° to 69° during the nights. Themean of all the observations gave a shade below 68°. The Marei Pareispur offered a fine position for a sanitarium, at any height between4,000 feet and 5,000 feet. Our tent was pitched at about 4,700 feet,and we found that the thermometer marked 75° (mean) in the middayshade, 56° at six A.M., and 63° (mean) at six P.M.This would be a delightful climate in a well-built house. The cave at9,000 feet was very cold—at two P.M. 52° mean; and duringthe three nights I slept there on my first expedition, it was 40°33´ (mean); ranging between 36° 5´ and 43°. In my last expedition,in the cave, the thermometer marked: 6.30 A.M., 43°; 9.15A.M., 48°; 3·30 P.M., 51·250°; 6 P.M.,45·750°. Night, registering thermometer: 41·250° and 41°. On thesummit, during mist and rain, it marked 52°; while exposed to a strongwind and a storm of sleet and hail, it fell to 43°. On a fine day,however,[386] it marked 62° in the shade, there being much refraction fromthe rocks.

I think it most probable that water would freeze on the summit duringa similar storm of hail and sleet to which we were exposed, were it tooccur during the night-time, as at two P.M. the thermometerfell to 43°, though held in the hand: and at the cave it fell to 36·5°during a very cold night, though partly protected by the tent, and whenI went out, I found a sort of hoar-frost on the rocks and leaves.

I must add a few remarks on the map. The sea-line is taken fromthe Admiralty chart, while the interior I have filled up from theobservations and rough plans made during the journey. It may affordsome idea of the country, and serve until a traveller with greateradvantages makes a better.

I will add a few remarks on that great indentation of the land to thenorth of Kina Balu, called Maludu Bay, but more correctly Marudu.Steering from the westward, there are two channels by which thenorthern point of Borneo may be rounded: they are to the north andsouth of the little island of Kalampunuan. A sweeping current oftenrenders the latter dangerous, as it would drive a vessel on a reefof rocks that runs off the island. Just before the extreme point isreached there is a small river or creek of Luru, which is also known bythe name of Simpañg Meñgayu, or the Cruising Creek, the Sampan Mangy ofthe Admiralty charts. Round the point there is another, named Karatang,and both are well known to the natives as the spots where the Baligniniand[387] Lanun pirates lurked to catch the trading prahus which passed thatway.

An incident occurred to a Bornean acquaintance, named Nakodah Bakir,who had accompanied me on my visit to the Baram River. He had found,from experience, the inutility of arming his prahus, with brassswivels of native manufacture; as, though they carry far, they seldomhit anything; so he changed his plan and armed his men with Englishmuskets. Early in the autumn of 1851, he was on a trading voyage toMaludu Bay, and having secured a good cargo, was returning to thecapital. As he rounded the northern point, five Lanun boats dashed outof Luru, and pulled towards him, firing their brass swivels, whoseballs passed harmlessly through his rigging. He kept his thirty menquiet till the first pirate boat was within fifty yards, when his crewjumped up and fired a volley of musketry into it. This novel receptionso astonished the pirates that they gave up the pursuit.

Maludu Bay extends nearly thirty miles inland. The western shore,near the point, is rather flat, but soon rises into a succession oflow hills; and as you penetrate deeper into the bay they swell to theproportion of mountains on both shores, and Kina Balu and its attendantranges form a fine background to the end of the bay, which, for nearlyfour miles from the shore, shallows from about two fathoms to scarcelysufficient water to float a boat. By keeping the channel, however, theprincipal river may be reached. The land is quite swampy on both banks,mangrove jungle reaching to within a mile of the town, then nipa palms,mixed with a few forest trees; in fact, the whole of the[388] head of thebay appears gradually filling up: the land obviously encroaching on thesea, the nipa palm gaining on the mangrove, which is spreading far outin the salt water on the flat muddy bottom. The rush of the currentfrom these rivers is sometimes so great that we have found the wholehead of the bay for five miles completely fresh, and the amount ofearth held in suspension renders it of a white appearance. The housesare built on a narrow creek on the right-hand bank of the river; nearthe country is flat, but the mountains soon skirt the plains. Thepopulation of the bay is sufficient to render it a valuable commercialsettlement for native traders, if security for life and property couldbe established, and if the monopolies of the chiefs could be destroyed.To show the insecurity, I may mention that in 1859 the Sultan ofBrunei sent a trading prahu there with a valuable cargo. On the returnvoyage, just as they were leaving the mouth of the river Panchur, thevessel commenced leaking, and they had to land a part of the cargo. Thesupercargo returned to the town for assistance, and during his absence,a large party of men came into the river, drove away the crew, andcarried off all the goods. They were not regular pirates, but a band ofSulus, who could not resist the temptation to plunder.

The monopolies of the chiefs, however, prevent any intercourse with theproducing classes, and thus prevent the possibility of a large increaseof trade.

I made many inquiries as to the amount of population which dwells inthe districts bordering on this deep bay. I obtained from Sherif Hasan,the son of Sherif Usman, who formerly ruled these districts with[389] astrong hand, a list of the number of Ida’an families who paid tributeto his father. I then inquired of the chief Datu Budrudin, of SherifsMusahor, Abdullah, and Houssein, and of a number of traders, and theiraccounts do not greatly vary.

Sherif Usman received tribute from the following districts:—

At six to a family, this would give nearly 30,000 people.

Comparing this statement with those given by the assembled chiefs,I find they slightly differ. They reckoned the population at 36,000people; and I account for it, first, by Sherif Hasan not having giventhe population of Bintasan; and, secondly, by his only mentioning thenumber of families on the Buñgun who paid tribute to his father, therebeing above a thousand families who did not.

They all represented the district of Bengkoka, not included in theabove list, as the most important[390] and populous of all; it is on theeastern coast of the bay, and the river, though barred at the entrance,is reputed deep inside. Its population is stated at 16,000 Ida’an.The Malays and Sulus residing in all these districts are representedas not very numerous; in fact, as under 5,000, of whom 1,500 are atPanchur, 1,500 at Bengkoka, and the rest scattered at the various othervillages. If the above figures represent the numbers, there are about52,000 Ida’an on the banks of the rivers flowing into the bay, andabout 5,000 strangers. They all, however, explained that, when theyenumerated the Ida’an, they only spoke of those villages which wereunder the influence of the people of the coast, and that there weremany tribes among the mountains with whom they had little intercourse.

I once met a party of these Ida’an; they were a dark, sharp-featuredrace, intelligent-looking, and appeared in features very much likethe Land Dayaks of Sarawak. They were dressed in their war costume,consisting of heavy, padded jackets, but wore the chawat or cloth roundtheir loins. They were slight and short men.

The productions of these districts consist of rattans, wax, camphor,tortoise-shell, tripang or sea-slug, and kaya laka, a sweet-scentedwood. Large quantities of rice and tobacco are grown, and, ifencouraged, these cultivations would greatly increase. The onlyminerals as yet discovered are coal in the Bengkoka River, and tin insome stream at the foot of the Kina Balu range. I saw specimens of thelatter, but no one has ventured to work it yet. The insecurity wouldprevent the Chinese succeeding.

[391]

Starting from the head of Maludu Bay, and skirting the eastern shore,it is found to be shoal off Mobang Point, and on the next inlet, TelukMobañg, Sherif Usman endeavoured to establish a village; but whilehis people were clearing the forest, they were seized with severevomitings, many dying; all arising, the Malays, confidently believe,from the machinations of the evil spirits who had been disturbed intheir homes. Leaving the points of Taburi and Si Perak, we pass throughthe straits formed by the island of Banguey and the mainland. ThatIsland is inhabited in the interior by Ida’an, but on the shore manyBajus assemble, collecting tortoise-shell and sea-slug, and they havebuilt many houses near the peak. It was they who pillaged and burntthe Minerva, wrecked off Balambañgan, in November, 1848. Ihave mentioned the Mengkabong people having treacherously plundereda village on Banguey; the inhabitants consisted of their own race,mixed with a few Sulus and others. The islets to the south-west ofBanguey are named Padudañgan (by the Sulus it is called Palarukan),and Patarunan. Indarawan is the name of a small river at the south ofBanguey, where, it is said, sufficient good water may be procured tosupply vessels. Passing between Mali Wali and a rock off the coast, thesoundings are very variable, and the sea appears filled with sandbanksand shoals; in fact, for a frigate, the sea is not sufficiently clearof reefs till we arrive opposite Sandakan Bay.

Commencing from the north-eastern point of Borneo, we first come toa little bay called Batul Ayak, the only inhabitants of which areBajus, who[392] entirely reside in their boats. Then there is a smallriver called Kina (China) Bañgun: there are but few people residingthere, wanderers with no settled dwellings. After that there is KangKarasan, where there are probably not more than a couple of hundredMahommedans, but the Dusuns in the interior are numerous: my informantsknew of villages containing above three hundred families. The riverPaitan is large and deep, and there are above a thousand Islams livinghere, and the Ida’an in the interior are represented to be as numerousas the leaves on the trees, and the slopes of the hills are coveredwith great forests of camphor-trees. I may observe that boxes made ofcamphor-wood prevent any insects meddling with woollen cloths, and aretherefore very useful. Camphor has so powerful an aromatic smell, thatit will drive every insect from its neighbourhood. Passing the streamof Babahar, which is small, and without inhabitants, we arrive atSugut, to the north of the commencement of Labuk Bay; but it has also asmall entrance to the south of it. The Islam population is representedas numerous, while seven thousand families of Ida’an reside in theinterior; in consequence of their great superiority of numbers, theirchiefs have great influence in those districts. A few elephants arecaught here, but the principal exports are rattans, wax, and camphor.The north-east coast of Borneo, as far as the entrance of the SugutRiver, is rather flat, only a few low hills occasionally diversifyingthe scene; but no sooner do you round the point, and enter Labuk Bay,than it presents a different aspect: the low hills gradually swellinto mountains, one range of which is remarkably[393] peaked—as jagged,from one view, as the edge of a saw. Kina Balu is visible along thiscoast, and from the eastern side the ascent appears feasible. A vesselsteering along the shore finds it difficult, from the numerous shoals,while pretty islets are scattered about in every direction. If theBenggaya be approached in a direct line, the water gradually decreasesfrom three to one and a half fathoms; but, keeping close into thefront, it deepens to five, seven, and no bottom with a ten-fathom line.The country, as viewed from the mouth of this river, presents onlymangrove jungle, with an occasional glimpse at the distant mountains:its entrance is very shallow, not deep enough at low tide to float aship’s cutter. To reach the village of Benggaya, it is necessary tokeep to the left-hand branch, avoiding the broad stream which stretchesaway to the right; but after ten miles the stream divides, and it isnecessary to pass by the left-hand branch, and continue for abouttwenty miles farther up a most extraordinarily winding river before thehouses are reached. This out-of-the-way situation is chosen to avoidthe attacks of pirates. The banks of this river present a continuedsuccession of mangrove and nipa swamp for many miles, only occasionallyvaried by dry land and fine forest trees. The stream winds in a mostextraordinary manner, and at one place the reaches had met, and nothingbut a fallen tree prevented a saving of two miles of distance. Theinhabitants consist of a few Islams, called men of Buluñgan, doubtlessfugitives from the Malay State of that name a couple of hundred milesfarther south. There is an overland communication between Sugut andBenggaya,[394] prepared by the latter in case of being suddenly surprised,as they have no interior to fly to, and consequently no Ida’anpopulation.

The largest river which runs into this bay is the Labuk, which givesits name to the place. It has three entrances—Kalagan, small; Labuk,large; Sabi, small. Off its mouth is a place called Lingkabu, famousfor its pearl fishery. The productions of this district are principallycamphor, wax, rattans, and pearls, and the interior is reported to bewell inhabited by the Ida’an. Next to it there is an insignificantvillage of Islams on the river Suñgalihut, and is only inhabited onaccount of the edible birds’ nests found in the interior.

Between the eastern point of Labuk Bay and the islands there is athree-fathom channel. The coast is low, with no marked features untilwe round the point, and the bluff islands of Sandakan Bay are visible.Then the land appears to rise gradually into pretty hills, presentingbeautiful slopes for cultivation; but as we approach the entrances ofthe Kina Batañgan, the land again becomes low. Sandakan Bay itself isa splendid harbour, with a good supply of fresh water. It used to bewell inhabited, but on one occasion the villages were surprised by theBalignini pirates, and sacked and burnt by them. The inhabitants whoescaped the attack dispersed among the neighbouring communities, butevery year strong parties of the surrounding people assemble there tocollect the valuable products of the place, which consist of largequantities of white birds’ nests, pearls, wax, sea-slug, and the bestkind of camphor.

About four or five years ago, Pañgeran, or Datu[395] Mahomed, the rulerof Atas, became so unbearably tyrannical that a large section of thepopulation determined to abandon their country, and hearing of theEnglish settlement of Labuan, resolved to remove there. One of theirprincipal men proceeded first to make arrangements for the others, whoin the meantime made temporary dwellings in Sandakan Bay. He sailedround to the north-west coast, and unfortunately put into the Paparriver for water. The chief of that district, Pañgeran Omar, detainedhim and forced him to send up his family to his house. Week after weekpassed, and they were still kept there, till information reached ourcolony, when the governor sent an officer to try and release thesepeople, but his representations were treated with contempt, as he hadno material force at his back; and the next thing I heard was that theBornean chief had put the Atas man to death, on pretence that he wasabout to run amuck, and taken the wife and daughters into his harim,reducing the followers to slavery. When this intelligence reachedSandakan Bay, it is not surprising the fugitives did not venture on theinhospitable north-west coast. The whole affair might have been bettermanaged on our part, and had proper representations been made to theadmiral on the station, there is little doubt he would have consideredhimself authorized to interfere.

Passing this bay, we arrive at the many mouths of the Kina Batañganriver; the first, named Balabatang, is said to connect the river withthe bay; the second is Trusan Abai, by which the first village may bereached in seven days. The deepest entrance[396] is Tundong Buañgin, andin certain months, perhaps after the rainy season, it is said there isa channel with three fathoms; but in the dry weather the sand againcollects and spoils the passage. It is seldom used, except by verylarge trading prahus, as it takes them thirty days to reach the firstvillage. Judging by the time required by the Bornean boats to reachthe town of Lañgusin, on the Baram river, during the rainy season, wemay calculate that with the windings of the river, the first villagemust be about a hundred miles from the mouth. The Sulu prahus beingheavier built, the Bornean ones used in the Baram trade would move athird faster. The first village on the banks is called Bras Manik.There are numerous hamlets beyond; in fact, the Kina Batañgan riveris always spoken of as one of the most populous, and by far the mostimportant on the north-eastern coast, and it is the one the Datus ofSulu watch with the most jealous attention. As this is the only countryin Borneo where the elephants are numerous, it is the only one whereivory forms an important article of trade in the eyes of the natives.But the most valuable articles are the remarkably fine white birds’nests and the camphor, which is collected in large quantities in theold forests which clothe the lofty mountains seen in the interior. Wax,sea-slug, very fine tortoise-shell, and also pearls, are the articlesthat render this trade so sought after. The tortoise-shell is collectedon the many islands with broad sandy beaches that stud this quiet sea.My servant once found a packet ready prepared for sale left by somecareless collector near the remains of a deserted hut. Turtle alsofrequent these islands;[397] and one day, while walking along the beachwith a blue-jacket, we saw a fine animal in shoal water. He sprangin, and after a vigorous struggle, in which his companions partlyassisted, he turned the beast on his back and towed him ashore, toafford, next day, excellent turtle soup for the whole ship’s company.The natives generally despise rattans as articles of export, on accountof their great bulk, otherwise they might collect sufficient to loadmany ships. The principal articles of import into these countries aregray shirtings, chintzes, red cloth, iron, steel, brass wire, beads,and powder and muskets. With opium, they say themselves, they aresufficiently supplied by the Lanun pirates, who obtain it from theprahus they capture among the Dutch islands.

Sigama is the next river, and has but a small population of Islams,though there are many Ida’an in the interior.

Cape Unsang is low and marked by few characteristic features, but onrounding the point becomes steadily prettier until we reach the Tungkuriver, when it presents a beautiful succession of low hills with themountain of Siriki to the left, which is a good mark to discover thepirate haunt of Tungku. All the small rivers on the southern shore ofCape Unsang are barred, not admitting a ship’s barge at low-water—atleast, we did not find deeper channels. I saw here a shark, the largestI have ever noticed: it swam to and fro in the shallow water, eyeingthe English seamen who were dragging their boats over the sands, butit did not venture near enough to be dangerous. We were sitting in thegig a little to seaward and it passed and repassed within a few[398] yardsof us, and I thought it must have been fifteen feet in length, but theimagination is apt to wander on such occasions, and as it swam in veryshallow water, it appeared to show more of its back than usual. As theofficers and men were on particular service, no one attempted to puta ball into it. Tungku appeared a type of the neighbouring districts:near the sea it is flat, occasionally varied by a low hill. I walkedseveral hours through this country, and never before saw more luxuriantcrops; the rice stalks were over our heads, the sugar cane was ofenormous girth, and the pepper vines had a most flourishing appearance:the soil must be of the very finest quality.

I have visited none of the districts on the east coast to the south ofTungku, but I heard that the people of Tidong, as of old, are troublingthe neighbouring countries, as the Dayaks of Seribas and Sakarang didthe north-west coast when I first reached Borneo. In sight of CapeUnsang, are many islands, at present the resort of the Balignini, asTawi Tawi and Binadan. A chief from the former captured a Spanishschooner in 1859, and was reported to have found the daughter of thecaptain on board. The Spanish Government made many efforts to recoverher; but by native report she still lives with her captor, PanglimaTaupan, who treats her with every attention and considers her hisprincipal wife. I heard last year she had borne a child to him, and wasnow unwilling to leave him.

The inhabitants of the north-east coast may be divided into Pagan andMahomedan. The former[399] are Ida’an, no doubt exactly similar to theircountrymen found on the opposite coast; but at Sugut the natives affirmthere is a tribe who have a short tail. I have elsewhere mentionedthat my informant declared he had felt it: it was four inches long,and quite stiff; and that at their houses they were provided withseats with holes for this uncomfortable prolongation of the spine; thepoorer people contented themselves with sitting on simple logs of wood,allowing the tail to hang over. It is quite possible there may havebeen some instances in a tribe, as I have heard that this deformity hasbeen known in Europe; and from one or two would soon arise the storyof the tribes with tails. I do not think I have mentioned elsewherethat I have seen Dayaks who carry little mats hanging down their backs,fastened to their waist-cloths, on which they sit: they always havethem there, ready to be used. I at first thought that the story of themen with tails arose from the method of wearing the waistcloth adoptedby some of the tribes: they twist it round their loins, and have oneend hanging down in front, the other behind, but some so manage itthat the resemblance to a tail at a little distance is remarkable,particularly when the men are running fast.

The Mahomedan population consists of Sulus, Bajus, and a few Lanuns,together with slaves, consisting of captives made by the pirates duringtheir cruises among the various islands of the Archipelago, and soldat that great slave-mart, Sugh. The districts of the north-east coastare nearly all governed by chiefs from Sulu, or by the descendantsof the Arab adventurers who all assume the title of Serib,[400] or, morecorrectly, Sherif. They do their utmost to monopolize the trade, anddo not hesitate to cut off any native prahus who may venture on thatcoast; and Europeans have avoided all connection with it for manyyears; the last attempt was made by a Mr. Burns, who lost life and shipin Maludu Bay in 1851.

END OF VOL. I

London: Printed by Smith, Elder & Co., Little Green ArbourCourt, Old Bailey, E.C.