(NOVEMBER 1855 TO JANUARY 1856.)
As the wet season was approaching, I determined to return to Sarawak,
sending all my collections with Charles Allen around by sea, while I
myself proposed to go up to the sources of the Sadong River and descend
by the Sarawak valley. As the route was somewhat difficult, I took the
smallest quantity of baggage, and only one servant, a Malay lad named
Bujon, who knew the language of the Sadong Dyaks, with whom he had
traded. We left the mines on the 27th of November, and the next day
reached the Malay village of Gúdong, where I stayed a short time to buy
fruit and eggs, and called upon the Datu Bandar, or Malay governor of
the place. He lived in a large, and well-built house, very dirty outside
and in, and was very inquisitive about my business, and particularly
about the coal-mines. These puzzle the natives exceedingly, as they
cannot understand the extensive and costly preparations for working
coal, and cannot believe it is to be used only as fuel when wood is so
abundant and so easily obtained. It was evident that Europeans seldom
came here, for numbers of women skeltered away as I walked through the
village and one girl about ten or twelve years old, who had just brought
a bamboo full of water from the river, threw it down with a cry of
horror and alarm the moment she caught sight of me, turned around and
jumped into the stream. She swam beautifully, and kept looking back as
if expecting I would follow her, screaming violently all the time; while
a number of men and boys were laughing at her ignorant terror.
At Jahi, the next village, the stream became so swift in consequence of
a flood, that my heavy boat could make no way, and I was obliged to send
it back and go on in a very small open one. So far the river had been
very monotonous, the banks being cultivated as rice-fields, and little
thatched huts alone breaking the unpicturesque line of muddy bank
crowned with tall grasses, and backed by the top of the forest behind
the cultivated ground. A few hours beyond Jahi we passed the limits
of cultivation, and had the beautiful virgin forest coming down to the
water's edge, with its palms and creepers, its noble trees, its ferns,
and epiphytes. The banks of the river were, however, still generally
flooded, and we had some difficulty in finding a dry spot to sleep
on. Early in the morning we reached Empugnan, a small Malay village,
situated at the foot of an isolated mountain which had been visible from
the mouth of the Simunjon River. Beyond here the tides are not felt,
and we now entered upon a district of elevated forest, with a finer
vegetation. Large trees stretch out their arms across the stream,
and the steep, earthy banks are clothed with ferns and zingiberaceous
plants.
Early in the afternoon we arrived at Tabókan, the first village of the
Hill Dyaks. On an open space near the river, about twenty boys were
playing at a game something like what we call "prisoner's base;" their
ornaments of beads and brass wire and their gay-coloured kerchiefs and
waist-cloths showing to much advantage, and forming a very pleasing
sight. On being called by Bujon, they immediately left their game to
carry my things up to the "headhouse,"--a circular building attached to
most Dyak villages, and serving as a lodging for strangers, the place
for trade, the sleeping-room of the unmarried youths, and the general
council-chamber. It is elevated on lofty posts, has a large fireplace in
the middle and windows in the roof all round, and forms a very pleasant
and comfortable abode. In the evening it was crowded with young men and
boys, who came to look at me. They were mostly fine young fellows, and
I could not help admiring the simplicity and elegance of their costume.
Their only dress is the long "chawat," or waist-cloth, which hangs down
before and behind. It is generally of blue cotton, ending in three
broad bands of red, blue, and white. Those who can afford it wear a
handkerchief on the head, which is either red, with a narrow border
of gold lace, or of three colours, like the "chawat." The large flat
moon-shaped brass earrings, the heavy necklace of white or black beads,
rows of brass rings on the arms and legs, and armlets of white shell,
all serve to relieve and set off the pure reddish brown skin and
jet-black hair. Add to this the little pouch containing materials for
betel-chewing, and a long slender knife, both invariably worn at the
side, and you have the everyday dress of the young Dyak gentleman.
The "Orang Kaya," or rich man, as the chief of the tribe is called,
now came in with several of the older men; and the "bitchara" or talk
commenced, about getting a boat and men to take me on the next morning.
As I could not understand a word of their language, which is very
different from Malay, I took no part in the proceedings, but was
represented by my boy Bujon, who translated to me most of what was said.
A Chinese trader was in the house, and he, too, wanted men the next day;
but on his hinting this to the Orang Kaya, he was sternly told that a
white man's business was now being discussed, and he must wait another
day before his could be thought about.
After the "bitchara" was over and the old chiefs gone, I asked the young
men to play or dance, or amuse themselves in their accustomed way; and
after some little hesitation they agreed to do so. They first had a
trial of strength, two boys sitting opposite each other, foot being
placed against foot, and a stout stick grasped by both their hands. Each
then tried to throw himself back, so as to raise his adversary up from
the ground, either by main strength or by a sudden effort. Then one of
the men would try his strength against two or three of the boys; and
afterwards they each grasped their own ankle with a hand, and while one
stood as firm as he could, the other swung himself around on one leg, so
as to strike the other's free leg, and try to overthrow him. When these
games had been played all around with varying success, we had a novel
kind of concert. Some placed a leg across the knee, and struck the
fingers sharply on the ankle, others beat their arms against their sides
like a cock when he is going to crow, this making a great variety of
clapping sounds, while another with his hand under his armpit produced a
deep trumpet note; and, as they all kept time very well, the effect was
by no means unpleasing. This seemed quite a favourite amusement with
them, and they kept it up with much spirit.
The next morning we started in a boat about thirty feet long, and
only twenty-eight inches wide. The stream here suddenly changes its
character. Hitherto, though swift, it had been deep and smooth, and
confined by steep banks. Now it rushed and rippled over a pebbly, sandy,
or rocky bed, occasionally forming miniature cascades and rapids, and
throwing up on one side or the other broad banks of finely coloured
pebbles. No paddling could make way here, but the Dyaks with bamboo
poles propelled us along with great dexterity and swiftness, never
losing their balance in such a narrow and unsteady vessel, though
standing up and exerting all their force. It was a brilliant day, and
the cheerful exertions of the men, the rushing of the sparkling waters,
with the bright and varied foliage, which from either bank stretched
over our heads, produced an exhilarating sensation which recalled my
canoe voyages on the grander waters of South America.
Early in the afternoon we reached the village of Borotói, and, though it
would have been easy to reach the next one before night, I was obliged
to stay, as my men wanted to return and others could not possibly go on
with me without the preliminary talking. Besides, a white man was too
great a rarity to be allowed to escape them, and their wives would never
have forgiven them if, when they returned from the fields, they found
that such a curiosity had not been kept for them to see. On entering the
house to which I was invited, a crowd of sixty or seventy men, women,
and children gathered around me, and I sat for half an hour like some
strange animal submitted for the first time to the gaze of an inquiring
public. Brass rings were here in the greatest profusion, many of the
women having their arms completely covered with them, as well as their
legs from the ankle to the knee. Round the waist they wear a dozen
or more coils of fine rattan stained red, to which the petticoat is
attached. Below this are generally a number of coils of brass wire, a
girdle of small silver coins, and sometimes a broad belt of brass ring
armour. On their heads they wear a conical hat without a crown, formed
of variously coloured beads, kept in shape by rings of rattan, and
forming a fantastic but not unpicturesque headdress.
Walking out to a small hill near the village, cultivated as a
rice-field, I had a fine view of the country, which was becoming quite
hilly, and towards the south, mountainous. I took bearings and sketches
of all that was visible, an operation which caused much astonishment
to the Dyaks who accompanied me, and produced a request to exhibit the
compass when I returned. I was then surrounded by a larger crowd than
before, and when I took my evening meal in the midst of a circle of
about a hundred spectators anxiously observing every movement and
criticising every mouthful, my thoughts involuntarily recurred to the
lion at feeding time. Like those noble animals, I too was used to it,
and it did not affect my appetite. The children here were more shy than
at Tabókan, and I could not persuade them to play. I therefore turned
showman myself, and exhibited the shadow of a dog's head eating, which
pleased them so much that all the village in succession came out to
see it. The "rabbit on the wall" does not do in Borneo, as there is
no animal it resembles. The boys had tops shaped something like
whipping-tops, but spun with a string.
The next morning we proceeded as before, but the river had become so
rapid and shallow and the boats were all so small, that though I had
nothing with me but a change of clothes, a gun, and a few cooking
utensils, two were required to take me on. The rock which appeared
here and there on the riverbank was an indurated clay-slate, sometimes
crystalline, and thrown up almost vertically. Right and left of us rose
isolated limestone mountains, their white precipices glistening in
the sun and contrasting beautifully with the luxuriant vegetation that
elsewhere clothed them. The river bed was a mass of pebbles, mostly
pure white quartz, but with abundance of jasper and agate, presenting a
beautifully variegated appearance. It was only ten in the morning when
we arrived at Budw, and, though there were plenty of people about, I
could not induce them to allow me to go on to the next village. The
Orang Kaya said that if I insisted on having men, of course he would get
them, but when I took him at his word and said I must have them, there
came a fresh remonstrance; and the idea of my going on that day seemed
so painful that I was obliged to submit. I therefore walked out over
the rice-fields, which are here very extensive, covering a number of the
little hills and valleys into which the whole country seems broken up,
and obtained a fine view of hills and mountains in every direction.
In the evening the Orang Kaya came in full dress (a spangled velvet
jacket, but no trousers), and invited me over to his house, where he
gave me a seat of honour under a canopy of white calico and coloured
handkerchiefs. The great verandah was crowded with people, and large
plates of rice with cooked and fresh eggs were placed on the ground as
presents for me. A very old man then dressed himself in bright-coloured
cloths and many ornaments, and sitting at the door, murmured a long
prayer or invocation, sprinkling rice from a basin he held in his hand,
while several large gongs were loudly beaten and a salute of muskets
fired off. A large jar of rice wine, very sour but with an agreeable
flavour, was then handed around, and I asked to see some of their
dances. These were, like most savage performances, very dull and
ungraceful affairs; the men dressing themselves absurdly like women, and
the girls making themselves as stiff and ridiculous as possible. All the
time six or eight large Chinese gongs were being beaten by the vigorous
arms of as many young men, producing such a deafening discord that I was
glad to escape to the round house, where I slept very comfortably with
half a dozen smoke-dried human skulls suspended over my head.
The river was now so shallow that boats could hardly get along. I
therefore preferred walking to the next village, expecting to see
something of the country, but was much disappointed, as the path lay
almost entirely through dense bamboo thickets. The Dyaks get two crops
off the ground in succession; one of rice, and the other of sugar-cane,
maize, and vegetables. The ground then lies fallow eight or ten years,
and becomes covered with bamboos and shrubs, which often completely
arch over the path and shut out everything from the view. Three hours'
walking brought us to the village of Senankan, where I was again obliged
to remain the whole day, which I agreed to do on the promise of the
Orang Kaya that his men should next day take me through two other
villages across to Senna, at the head of the Sarawak River. I amused
myself as I best could till evening, by walking about the high ground
near, to get views of the country and bearings of the chief mountains.
There was then another public audience, with gifts of rice and eggs, and
drinking of rice wine. These Dyaks cultivate a great extent of ground,
and supply a good deal of rice to Sarawak. They are rich in gongs, brass
trays, wire, silver coins, and other articles in which a Dyak's wealth
consists; and their women and children are all highly ornamented with
bead necklaces, shells, and brass wire.
In the morning I waited some time, but the men that were to accompany me
did not make their appearance. On sending to the Orang Kaya I found that
both he and another head-man had gone out for the day, and on inquiring
the reason was told that they could not persuade any of their men to
go with me because the journey was a long and fatiguing one. As I was
determined to get on, I told the few men that remained that the chiefs
had behaved very badly, and that I should acquaint the Rajah with their
conduct, and I wanted to start immediately. Every man present made some
excuse, but others were sent for, and by dint of threats and promises,
and the exertion of all Bujon's eloquence, we succeeded in getting off
after two hours' delay.
For the first few miles our path lay over a country cleared for
rice-fields, consisting entirely of small but deep and sharply-cut
ridges and valleys without a yard of level ground. After crossing the
Kayan river, a main branch of the Sadong, we got on to the lower slopes
of the Seboran Mountain, and the path lay along a sharp and moderately
steep ridge, affording an excellent view of the country. Its features
were exactly those of the Himalayas in miniature, as they are described
by Dr. Hooker and other travellers, and looked like a natural model
of some parts of those vast mountains on a scale of about a
tenth--thousands of feet being here represented by hundreds. I now
discovered the source of the beautiful pebbles which had so pleased me
in the riverbed. The slatey rocks had ceased, and these mountains seemed
to consist of a sandstone conglomerate, which was in some places a mere
mass of pebbles cemented together. I might have known that such small
streams could not produce such vast quantities of well-rounded pebbles
of the very hardest materials. They had evidently been formed in past
ages, by the action of some continental stream or seabeach, before the
great island of Borneo had risen from the ocean. The existence of such a
system of hills and valleys reproducing in miniature all the features of
a great mountain region, has an important bearing on the modern theory
that the form of the ground is mainly due to atmospheric rather than
to subterranean action. When we have a number of branching valleys and
ravines running in many different directions within a square mile,
it seems hardly possible to impute their formation, or even their
origination, to rents and fissures produced by earthquakes. On the other
hand, the nature of the rock, so easily decomposed and removed by water,
and the known action of the abundant tropical rains, are in this case,
at least, quite sufficient causes for the production of such valleys.
But the resemblance between their forms and outlines, their mode of
divergence, and the slopes and ridges that divide them, and those of the
grand mountain scenery of the Himalayas, is so remarkable, that we are
forcibly led to the conclusion that the forces at work in the two cases
have been the same, differing only in the time they have been in action,
and the nature of the material they have had to work upon.
About noon we reached the village of Menyerry, beautifully situated on
a spur of the mountain about 600 feet above the valley, and affording
a delightful view of the mountains of this part of Borneo. I here got a
sight of Penrissen Mountain, at the head of the Sarawak River, and one
of the highest in the district, rising to about 6,000 feet above the
sea. To the south the Rowan, and further off the Untowan Mountains in
the Dutch territory appeared equally lofty. Descending from Menyerry we
again crossed the Kayan, which bends round the spur, and ascended to the
pass which divides the Sadong and Sarawak valleys, and which is about
2,000 feet high. The descent from this point was very fine. A stream,
deep in a rocky gorge, rushed on each side of us, to one of which we
gradually descended, passing over many lateral gullys and along the
faces of some precipices by means of native bamboo bridges. Some of
these were several hundred feet long and fifty or sixty high, a single
smooth bamboo four inches diameter forming the only pathway, while a
slender handrail of the same material was often so shaky that it could
only be used as a guide rather than a support.
Late in the afternoon we reached Sodos, situated on a spur between two
streams, but so surrounded by fruit trees that little could be seen
of the country. The house was spacious, clean and comfortable, and the
people very obliging. Many of the women and children had never seen a
white man before, and were very sceptical as to my being the same colour
all over, as my face. They begged me to show them my arms and body, and
they were so kind and good-tempered that I felt bound to give them some
satisfaction, so I turned up my trousers and let them see the colour of
my leg, which they examined with great interest.
In the morning early we continued our descent along a fine valley, with
mountains rising 2,000 or 3,000 feet in every direction. The little
river rapidly increased in size until we reached Senna, when it had
become a fine pebbly stream navigable for small canoes. Here again the
upheaved slatey rock appeared, with the same dip and direction as in the
Sadong River. On inquiring for a boat to take me down the stream, I was
told that the Senna Dyaks, although living on the river-banks, never
made or used boats. They were mountaineers who had only come down into
the valley about twenty years before, and had not yet got into new
habits. They are of the same tribe as the people of Menyerry and Sodos.
They make good paths and bridges, and cultivate much mountain land, and
thus give a more pleasing and civilized aspect to the country than where
the people move about only in boats, and confine their cultivation to
the banks of the streams.
After some trouble I hired a boat from a Malay trader, and found three
Dyaks who had been several times with Malays to Sarawak, and thought
they could manage it very well. They turned out very awkward, constantly
running aground, striking against rocks, and losing their balance so as
almost to upset themselves and the boat--offering a striking contrast
to the skill of the Sea Dyaks. At length we came to a really dangerous
rapid where boats were often swamped, and my men were afraid to pass it.
Some Malays with a boatload of rice here overtook us, and after safely
passing down kindly sent back one of their men to assist me. As it was,
my Dyaks lost their balance in the critical part of the passage, and
had they been alone would certainly have upset the boat. The river now
became exceedingly picturesque, the ground on each side being partially
cleared for ricefields, affording a good view of the country. Numerous
little granaries were built high up in trees overhanging the river, and
having a bamboo bridge sloping up to them from the bank; and here and
there bamboo suspension bridge crossed the stream, where overhanging
trees favoured their construction.
I slept that night in the village of the Sebungow Dyaks, and the next
day reached Sarawak, passing through a most beautiful country where
limestone mountains with their fantastic forms and white precipices shot
up on every side, draped and festooned with a luxuriant vegetation.
The banks of the Sarawak River are everywhere covered with fruit trees,
which supply the Dyaks with a great deal of their food. The Mangosteen,
Lansat, Rambutan, Jack, Jambou, and Blimbing, are all abundant; but
most abundant and most esteemed is the Durian, a fruit about which very
little is known in England, but which both by natives and Europeans
in the Malay Archipelago is reckoned superior to all others. The old
traveller Linschott, writing in 1599, says: "It is of such an excellent
taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world,
according to those who have tasted it." And Doctor Paludanus adds: "This
fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seems at
first to smell like rotten onions, but immediately when they have tasted
it, they prefer it to all other food. The natives give it honourable
titles, exalt it, and make verses on it." When brought into a house the
smell is often so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste
it. This was my own case when I first tried it in Malacca, but in Borneo
I found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, I at
once became a confirmed Durian eater.
The Durian grows on a large and lofty forest tree, somewhat resembling
an elm in its general character, but with a more smooth and scaly bark.
The fruit is round or slightly oval, about the size of a large cocoanut,
of a green colour, and covered all over with short stout spines
the bases of which touch each other, and are consequently somewhat
hexagonal, while the points are very strong and sharp. It is so
completely armed, that if the stalk is broken off it is a difficult
matter to lift one from the ground. The outer rind is so thick and
tough, that from whatever height it may fall it is never broken. From
the base to the apex five very faint lines may be traced, over which
the spines arch a little; these are the sutures of the carpels, and show
where the fruit may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand.
The five cells are satiny white within, and are each filled with an oval
mass of cream-coloured pulp, imbedded in which are two or three seeds
about the size of chestnuts. This pulp is the eatable part, and its
consistency and flavour are indescribable. A rich butter-like custard
highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it,
but intermingled with it come wafts of flavour that call to mind
cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown sherry, and other incongruities. Then
there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else
possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid, nor
sweet, nor juicy; yet one feels the want of none of these qualities, for
it is perfect as it is. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and
the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact
to eat Durians is a new sensation, worth a voyage to the East to
experience.
When the fruit is ripe it falls of itself, and the only way to eat
Durians in perfection is to get them as they fall; and the smell is
then less overpowering. When unripe, it makes a very good vegetable if
cooked, and it is also eaten by the Dyaks raw. In a good fruit season
large quantities are preserved salted, in jars and bamboos, and kept the
year round, when it acquires a most disgusting odour to Europeans, but
the Dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish with their rice. There are in
the forest two varieties of wild Durians with much smaller fruits, one
of them orange-coloured inside; and these are probably the origin of
the large and fine Durians, which are never found wild. It would not,
perhaps, be correct to say that the Durian is the best of all fruits,
because it cannot supply the place of the subacid juicy kinds, such as
the orange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose refreshing and cooling
qualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as producing a food of the
most exquisite flavour, it is unsurpassed. If I had to fix on two only,
as representing the perfection of the two classes, I should certainly
choose the Durian and the Orange as the king and queen of fruits.
The Durian is, however, sometimes dangerous. When the fruit begins to
ripen it falls daily and almost hourly, and accidents not unfrequently
happen to persons walking or working under the trees. When a Durian
strikes a man in its fall, it produces a dreadful wound, the strong
spines tearing open the flesh, while the blow itself is very heavy; but
from this very circumstance death rarely ensues, the copious effusion
of blood preventing the inflammation which might otherwise take place. A
Dyak chief informed me that he had been struck down by a Durian falling
on his head, which he thought would certainly have caused his death, yet
he recovered in a very short time.
Poets and moralists, judging from our English trees and fruits, have
thought that small fruits always grew on lofty trees, so that their fall
should be harmless to man, while the large ones trailed on the ground.
Two of the largest and heaviest fruits known, however, the Brazil-nut
fruit (Bertholletia) and Durian, grow on lofty forest trees, from which
they fall as soon as they are ripe, and often wound or kill the native
inhabitants. From this we may learn two things: first, not to draw
general conclusions from a very partial view of nature; and secondly,
that trees and fruits, no less than the varied productions of the animal
kingdom, do not appear to be organized with exclusive reference to the
use and convenience of man.
During my many journeys in Borneo, and especially during my various
residences among the Dyaks, I first came to appreciate the admirable
qualities of the Bamboo. In those parts of South America which I had
previously visited, these gigantic grasses were comparatively scarce;
and where found but little used, their place being taken as to one class
of uses by the great variety of Palms, and as to another by calabashes
and gourds. Almost all tropical countries produce Bamboos, and wherever
they are found in abundance the natives apply them to a variety of
uses. Their strength, lightness, smoothness, straightness, roundness and
hollowness, the facility and regularity with which they can be split,
their many different sizes, the varying length of their joints, the
ease with which they can be cut and with which holes can be made through
them, their hardness outside, their freedom from any pronounced taste
or smell, their great abundance, and the rapidity of their growth and
increase, are all qualities which render them useful for a hundred
different purposes, to serve which other materials would require much
more labour and preparation. The Bamboo is one of the most wonderful
and most beautiful productions of the tropics, and one of nature's most
valuable gifts to uncivilized man.
The Dyak houses are all raised on posts, and are often two or three
hundred feet long and forty or fifty wide. The floor is always formed
of strips split from large Bamboos, so that each may be nearly flat and
about three inches wide, and these are firmly tied down with rattan to
the joists beneath. When well made, this is a delightful floor to walk
upon barefooted, the rounded surfaces of the bamboo being very smooth
and agreeable to the feet, while at the same time affording a firm hold.
But, what is more important, they form with a mat over them an excellent
bed, the elasticity of the Bamboo and its rounded surface being far
superior to a more rigid and a flatter floor. Here we at once find a use
for Bamboo which cannot be supplied so well by another material without
a vast amount of labour--palms and other substitutes requiring much
cutting and smoothing, and not being equally good when finished. When,
however, a flat, close floor is required, excellent boards are made by
splitting open large Bamboos on one side only, and flattening them out
so as to form slabs eighteen inches wide and six feet long, with which
some Dyaks floor their houses. These with constant rubbing of the feet
and the smoke of years become dark and polished, like walnut or old oak,
so that their real material can hardly be recognised. What labour is
here saved to a savage whose only tools are an axe and a knife, and who,
if he wants boards, must hew them out of the solid trunk of a tree, and
must give days and weeks of labour to obtain a surface as smooth and
beautiful as the Bamboo thus treated affords him. Again, if a temporary
house is wanted, either by the native in his plantation or by the
traveller in the forest, nothing is so convenient as the Bamboo, with
which a house can be constructed with a quarter of the labour and time
than if other materials are used.
As I have already mentioned, the Hill Dyaks in the interior of Sarawak
make paths for long distances from village to village and to their
cultivated grounds, in the course of which they have to cross many
gullies and ravines, and even rivers; or sometimes, to avoid a long
circuit, to carry the path along the face of a precipice. In all these
cases the bridges they construct are of Bamboo, and so admirably adapted
is the material for this purpose, that it seems doubtful whether they
ever would have attempted such works if they had not possessed it. The
Dyak bridge is simple but well designed. It consists merely of stout
Bamboos crossing each other at the road-way like the letter X, and
rising a few feet above it. At the crossing they are firmly bound
together, and to a large Bamboo which lays upon them and forms the only
pathway, with a slender and often very shaky one to serve as a handrail.
When a river is to be crossed, an overhanging tree is chosen from which
the bridge is partly suspended and partly supported by diagonal struts
from the banks, so as to avoid placing posts in the stream itself, which
would be liable to be carried away by floods. In carrying a path along
the face of a precipice, trees and roots are made use of for suspension;
struts arise from suitable notches or crevices in the rocks, and if
these are not sufficient, immense Bamboos fifty or sixty feet long are
fixed on the banks or on the branch of a tree below. These bridges
are traversed daily by men and women carrying heavy loads, so that any
insecurity is soon discovered, and, as the materials are close at hand,
immediately repaired. When a path goes over very steep ground, and
becomes slippery in very wet or very dry weather, the Bamboo is used
in another way. Pieces are cut about a yard long, and opposite notches
being made at each end, holes are formed through which pegs are driven,
and firm and convenient steps are thus formed with the greatest ease and
celerity. It is true that much of this will decay in one or two seasons,
but it can be so quickly replaced as to make it more economical than
using a harder and more durable wood.
One of the most striking uses to which Bamboo is applied by the Dyaks,
is to assist them in climbing lofty trees by driving in pegs in the way
I have already described at page 85. This method is constantly used in
order to obtain wax, which is one of the most valuable products of the
country. The honey-bee of Borneo very generally hangs its combs under
the branches of the Tappan, a tree which towers above all others in the
forest, and whose smooth cylindrical trunk often rises a hundred feet
without a branch. The Dyaks climb these lofty trees at night,
building up their Bamboo ladder as they go, and bringing down gigantic
honeycombs. These furnish them with a delicious feast of honey and young
bees, besides the wax, which they sell to traders, and with the proceeds
buy the much-coveted brass wire, earrings, and bold-edged handkerchiefs
with which they love to decorate themselves. In ascending Durian and
other fruit trees which branch at from thirty to fifty feet from the
ground, I have seen them use the Bamboo pegs only, without the upright
Bamboo which renders them so much more secure.
The outer rind of the Bamboo, split and shaved thin, is the strongest
material for baskets; hen-coops, bird-cages, and conical fish-traps
are very quickly made from a single joint, by splitting off the skin in
narrow strips left attached to one end, while rings of the same material
or of rattan are twisted in at regular distances. Water is brought to
the houses by little aqueducts formed of large Bamboos split in half
and supported on crossed sticks of various heights so as to give it
a regular fall. Thin long-jointed Bamboos form the Dyaks' only
water-vessels, and a dozen of them stand in the corner of every house.
They are clean, light, and easily carried, and are in many ways superior
to earthen vessels for the same purpose. They also make excellent
cooking utensils; vegetables and rice can be boiled in them to
perfection, and they are often used when travelling. Salted fruit or
fish, sugar, vinegar, and honey are preserved in them instead of in jars
or bottles. In a small Bamboo case, prettily carved and ornamented,
the Dyak carries his sirih and lime for betel chewing, and his little
long-bladed knife has a Bamboo sheath. His favourite pipe is a huge
hubble-bubble, which he will construct in a few minutes by inserting a
small piece of Bamboo for a bowl obliquely into a large cylinder about
six inches from the bottom containing water, through which the smoke
passes to a long slender Bamboo tube. There are many other small matters
for which Bamboo is daily used, but enough has now been mentioned to
show its value. In other parts of the Archipelago I have myself seen it
applied to many new uses, and it is probable that my limited means of
observation did not make me acquainted with one-half the ways in which
it is serviceable to the Dyaks of Sarawak.
While upon the subject of plants I may here mention a few of the more
striking vegetable productions of Borneo. The wonderful Pitcher-plants,
forming the genus Nepenthes of botanists, here reach their greatest
development. Every mountain-top abounds with them, running along
the ground, or climbing over shrubs and stunted trees; their elegant
pitchers hanging in every direction. Some of these are long and slender,
resembling in form the beautiful Philippine lace-sponge (Euplectella),
which has now become so common; others are broad and short. Their
colours are green, variously tinted and mottled with red or purple.
The finest yet known were obtained on the summit of Kini-balou, in
North-west Borneo. One of the broad sort, Nepenthes rajah, will hold two
quarts of water in its pitcher. Another, Nepenthes Edwardsiania, has
a narrow pitcher twenty inches long; while the plant itself grows to a
length of twenty feet.
Ferns are abundant, but are not so varied as on the volcanic mountains
of Java; and Tree-ferns are neither so plentiful nor so large as on that
island. They grow, however, quite down to the level of the sea, and are
generally slender and graceful plants from eight to fifteen feet high.
Without devoting much time to the search I collected fifty species of
Ferns in Borneo, and I have no doubt a good botanist would have obtained
twice the number. The interesting group of Orchids is very abundant,
but, as is generally the case, nine-tenths of the species have small
and inconspicuous flowers. Among the exceptions are the fine Coelogynes,
whose large clusters of yellow flowers ornament the gloomiest
forests, and that most extraordinary plant, Vanda Lowii, which last
is particularly abundant near some hot springs at the foot of the
Penin-jauh Mountain. It grows on the lower branches of trees, and its
strange pendant flower-spires often hang down so as almost to reach the
ground. These are generally six or eight feet long, bearing large and
handsome flowers three inches across, and varying in colour from orange
to red, with deep purple-red spots. I measured one spike, which reached
the extraordinary length of nine feet eight inches, and bore thirty-six
flowers, spirally arranged upon a slender thread-like stalk. Specimens
grown in our English hot-houses have produced flower-spires of equal
length, and with a much larger number of blossoms.
Flowers were scarce, as is usual in equatorial forests, and it was only
at rare intervals that I met with anything striking. A few fine
climbers were sometimes seen, especially a handsome crimson and yellow
Aeschynanthus, and a fine leguminous plant with clusters of large
Cassia-like flowers of a rich purple colour. Once I found a number
of small Anonaceous trees of the genus Polyalthea, producing a most
striking effect in the gloomy forest shades. They were about thirty feet
high, and their slender trunks were covered with large star-like crimson
flowers, which clustered over them like garlands, and resembled some
artificial decoration more than a natural product.
The forests abound with gigantic trees with cylindrical, buttressed, or
furrowed stems, while occasionally the traveller comes upon a wonderful
fig-tree, whose trunk is itself a forest of stems and aerial roots.
Still more rarely are found trees which appear to have begun growing in
mid-air, and from the same point send out wide-spreading branches above
and a complicated pyramid of roots descending for seventy or eighty feet
to the ground below, and so spreading on every side, that one can stand
in the very centre with the trunk of the tree immediately overhead.
Trees of this character are found all over the Archipelago, and the
accompanying illustration (taken from one which I often visited in the
Aru Islands) will convey some idea of their general character. I believe
that they originate as parasites, from seeds carried by birds and
dropped in the fork of some lofty tree. Hence descend aerial roots,
clasping and ultimately destroying the supporting tree, which is in time
entirely replaced by the humble plant which was at first dependent upon
it. Thus we have an actual struggle for life in the vegetable kingdom,
not less fatal to the vanquished than the struggles among animals which
we can so much more easily observe and understand. The advantage of
quicker access to light and warmth and air, which is gained in one way
by climbing plants, is here obtained by a forest tree, which has the
means of starting in life at an elevation which others can only attain
after many years of growth, and then only when the fall of some other
tree has made room for then. Thus it is that in the warm and moist and
equable climate of the tropics, each available station is seized upon
and becomes the means of developing new forms of life especially adapted
to occupy it.
On reaching Sarawak early in December, I found there would not be an
opportunity of returning to Singapore until the latter end of January.
I therefore accepted Sir James Brooke's invitation to spend a week with
him and Mr. St. John at his cottage on Peninjauh. This is a very steep
pyramidal mountain of crystalline basaltic rock, about a thousand feet
high, and covered with luxuriant forest. There are three Dyak villages
upon it, and on a little platform near the summit is the rude wooden
lodge where the English Rajah was accustomed to go for relaxation and
cool fresh air. It is only twenty miles up the river, but the road
up the mountain is a succession of ladders on the face of precipices,
bamboo bridges over gullies and chasms, and slippery paths over rocks
and tree-trunks and huge boulders as big as houses. A cool spring under
an overhanging rock just below the cottage furnished us with refreshing
baths and delicious drinking water, and the Dyaks brought us daily
heaped-up baskets of Mangosteens and Lansats, two of the most delicious
of the subacid tropical fruits. We returned to Sarawak for Christmas
(the second I had spent with Sir James Brooke), when all the Europeans
both in the town and from the out-stations enjoyed the hospitality of
the Rajah, who possessed in a pre-eminent degree the art of making every
one around him comfortable and happy.
A few days afterwards I returned to the mountain with Charles and a
Malay boy named Ali and stayed there three weeks for the purpose of
making a collection of land-shells, butterflies and moths, ferns and
orchids. On the hill itself ferns were tolerably plentiful, and I made
a collection of about forty species. But what occupied me most was
the great abundance of moths which on certain occasions I was able to
capture. As during the whole of my eight years' wanderings in the East
I never found another spot where these insects were at all plentiful,
it will be interesting to state the exact conditions under which I here
obtained them.
On one side of the cottage there was a verandah, looking down the whole
side of the mountain and to its summit on the right, all densely clothed
with forest. The boarded sides of the cottage were whitewashed, and the
roof of the verandah was low, and also boarded and whitewashed. As soon
as it got dark I placed my lamp on a table against the wall, and with
pins, insect-forceps, net, and collecting-boxes by my side, sat down
with a book. Sometimes during the whole evening only one solitary moth
would visit me, while on other nights they would pour in, in a continual
stream, keeping me hard at work catching and pinning till past midnight.
They came literally by the thousands. These good nights were very few.
During the four weeks that I spent altogether on the hill I only had
four really good nights, and these were always rainy, and the best
of them soaking wet. But wet nights were not always good, for a rainy
moonlight night produced next to nothing. All the chief tribes of moths
were represented, and the beauty and variety of the species was very
great. On good nights I was able to capture from a hundred to two
hundred and fifty moths, and these comprised on each occasion from half
to two-thirds that number of distinct species. Some of them would settle
on the wall, some on the table, while many would fly up to the roof and
give me a chase all over the verandah before I could secure them. In
order to show the curious connection between the state of weather and
the degree in which moths were attracted to light, I add a list of my
captures each night of my stay on the hill:
Date (1855) No. of Moths Remarks
Dec. 13th 1 Fine; starlight.
14th 75 Drizzly and fog.
15th 41 Showery; cloudy.
16th 158 (120 species.) Steady rain.
17th 82 Wet; rather moonlight.
18th 9 Fine; moonlight.
19th 2 Fine; clear moonlight.
31st 200 (130 species.) Dark and windy;
heavy rain.
Date (1856)
Jan. 1st 185 Very wet.
2d 68 Cloudy and showers.
3d 50 Cloudy.
4th 12 Fine.
5th 10 Fine.
6th 8 Very fine.
7th 8 Very fine.
8th 10 Fine.
9th 36 Showery.
10th 30 Showery.
11th 260 Heavy rain all night, and dark.
12th 56 Showery.
13th 44 Showery; some moonlight.
14th 4 Fine; moonlight.
15th 24 Rain; moonlight.
16th 6 Showers; moonlight.
17th 6 Showers; moonlight.
18th 1 Showers; moonlight.
Total 1,386
It thus appears that on twenty-six nights I collected 1,386 moths, but
that more than 800 of them were collected on four very wet and dark
nights. My success here led me to hope that, by similar arrangements, I
might on every island be able to obtain an abundance of these insects;
but, strange to say, during the six succeeding years, I was never once
able to make any collections at all approaching those at Sarawak. The
reason for this I can pretty well understand to be owing to the absence
of some one or other essential condition that were here all combined.
Sometimes the dry season was the hindrance; more frequently residence
in a town or village not close to virgin forest, and surrounded by other
houses whose lights were a counter-attraction; still more frequently
residence in a dark palm-thatched house, with a lofty roof, in whose
recesses every moth was lost the instant it entered. This last was the
greatest drawback, and the real reason why I never again was able to
make a collection of moths; for I never afterwards lived in a solitary
jungle-house with a low boarded and whitewashed verandah, so constructed
as to prevent insects at once escaping into the upper part of the house,
quite out of reach.
After my long experience, my numerous failures, and my one success, I
feel sure that if any party of naturalists ever make a yacht-voyage to
explore the Malayan Archipelago, or any other tropical region, making
entomology one of their chief pursuits, it would well repay them to
carry a small framed verandah, or a verandah-shaped tent of white
canvas, to set up in every favourable situation, as a means of making
a collection of nocturnal Lepidoptera, and also of obtaining rare
specimens of Coleoptera and other insects. I make the suggestion here,
because no one would suspect the enormous difference in results that
such an apparatus would produce; and because I consider it one of the
curiosities of a collector's experience, to have found out that some
such apparatus is required.
When I returned to Singapore I took with me the Malay lad named Ali,
who subsequently accompanied me all over the Archipelago. Charles
Allen preferred staying at the Mission-house, and afterwards obtained
employment in Sarawak and in Singapore, until he again joined me four
years later at Amboyna in the Moluccas.