DEPARTURE FOR BANDJERMASIN--A PLEASANT STEAMSHIP LINE--TWO HEAD-HUNTERS--
AN EXPEDITION TO LAKE SEMBULO--SAMPIT--THE ORANG-UTAN--STORMY WEATHER--A
DISAGREEABLE RECEPTION
In Tandjong Selor I was exceedingly busy for three days getting boxes and
packing the collections, and early in June I departed for Bandjermasin, on
S.S. _De Weert_. It has been my fortune to travel much on the steamships
of the Royal Packet Boat Company, which controls the whole Malay
Archipelago from Singapore to New Guinea and the Moluccas. It is always a
pleasure to board one of these steamers, as the officers are invariably
courteous, and the food is as excellent on the smaller steamers as on the
large ones. The same kind of genuine, good claret, at a reasonable price,
is also found on all of them, and it may readily be understood how much I
enjoyed a glass of cool Margaux-Medoc with dinner, after over five months
in the utan. The sailors on these steamers are Javanese. Those from
Madura, rather small men, made an especially good impression. A captain
told me they never give any trouble except when on leave ashore in
Sourabaia, where they occasionally remain overtime, but after a few days
they come to the office and want to be taken on again. They are punished
by having their wages deducted for the days they are absent, but the loss
of coin does not trouble them much. If they have cigarettes and their
meals they are happy, and they never accumulate money. They are engaged
for one year and some of them renew their contracts.
As we sailed southward from the Kayan River we were told of a French count
who with his wife lived on an island three or four kilometres long, near
the coast. At first he had fisheries and sold dried fish, which, with
rice, forms the staple food of the natives of Borneo and other countries
of the East. He was enabled to change his business into cocoanut
plantations, which to-day cover the island. According to report they
dressed for dinner every day, to the end that they might not relinquish
their hold upon the habits of civilised society. Later I learned that when
the war broke out the count immediately went to France to offer his
services.
Lieutenant C.J. La Riviere came aboard in Samarinda, en route to Holland
for a rest, after being in charge of the garrison at distant Long Nawang
in Apo Kayan. There are 40 soldiers, 2 officers, and 1 doctor at that
place, which is 600 metres above sea, in a mountainous country with much
rain, and therefore quite cool. In a single month they had had one and a
half metres of rain. Officers have been known to spend three months in
going from Long Iram to Apo Kayan, travelling by prahu almost the whole
distance. Usually the trip may be made in a couple of months or less. The
river at last becomes only four metres broad, with very steep sides, and
in one night, when it rains copiously, the water may rise five to six
metres. Mail usually arrives three times a year, but when the lieutenant
boarded the steamer he had not seen a newspaper for five months.
He expressed his opinion that the government would find it extremely
difficult to stamp out head-hunting in Apo Kayan, with its 15,000 Dayaks,
because the custom is founded in their religious conception. "Our
ancestors have always taken heads," they say; "we also do it, and the
spirits will then be satisfied. We have learned it from our ancestors, who
want us to do it." "They often ask us," the lieutenant said: "When are you
going to leave Long Nawang? When you are gone then we will again take up
the head-hunting." These same Kenyahs are entrusted to go to Long Iram to
bring provisions to the garrison. About eighty of them are sent,
accompanied by only two soldiers, and after three months' absence the
goods arrive safely at Long Nawang.
On board the steamer were also two Punan head-hunters from the interior
who were being taken to Bandjermasin under the guard of two soldiers. They
had been caught through the assistance of other Punans, and in prison the
elder one had contracted the dry form of beri-beri. He was a pitiful
sight, in the last stage of a disease not usually found among his
compatriots, no longer able to walk, looking pale and emaciated and having
lost the sight of his right eye. They had rather wild but not unpleasant
faces, and were both tatued like the Kenyahs. Their hair had been cut
short in the prison. I later took the anthropometric measurements of the
young man, who was a fine specimen of the savage, with a splendid figure,
beautifully formed hands and feet--his movements were elastic and easy.
As it had been found impossible to secure Dayaks in the Bulungan for my
expedition to New Guinea, the resident courteously offered to get eighty
men from the Mahakam River. This would take at least two months and gave
me opportunity to visit a lake called Sembulo, a considerable distance
west of Bandjermasin. It was necessary first to go to Sampit, a small
town, two days distant, on a river of the same name, where there is a
controleur to whom the resident gave me an introduction, and who would be
able to assist in furthering my plans. I could not afford to wait for the
monthly steamer which touches at Sampit on its way to Singapore, so I
arranged to make the trip on board an old wooden craft which was under
repairs in Bandjermasin, and in the afternoon of June 5 we started.
The steamer was small, slow, and heavily laden, so it was not a very
pleasant trip. As we sailed down the great Barito River on a dark and
cloudy evening, from the deck, which was scarcely a metre above the muddy
water, one might observe now and then floating clumps of the plants that
thrive so well there. On approaching the mouth of the river the water,
with the outgoing tide, became more shallow. The Malay sailor who
ascertained the depth of the water by throwing his line and sang out the
measures in a melodious air, announced a low figure, which made the
captain stop immediately. The anchor was thrown and simultaneously a great
noise of escaping steam was heard. Before the engine-room the sailors were
seen trying to stop the steam which issued, holding sacks in front of them
as a protection against being scalded. Coupled with my observation that
there were no life preservers in my little cabin, nor anywhere else, the
situation appeared disquieting, but the captain, a small-sized Malay and a
good sailor, as all of that race are, reassured me by saying that it was
only the glass for controlling the steam-power that was broken. After a
while the escape of steam was checked and a new glass was put in.
The old craft kept up its reputation for rolling excessively, and I was
glad when finally we entered the smooth waters of the Sampit River. We
stopped for a couple of hours at a small kampong, where I made the
acquaintance of a Polish engineer in the government's service, who was
doing some work here. He told me that thirty years ago, in the inland
country west of Kotawaringin, he had seen a young Dayak whose chest, arms,
and legs, and most of the face, were covered with hair very similar in
colour to that of the orang-utan, though not so thick. The hair on his
face was black, as usual. There were no Malays at that head, but many
Dayaks. I have heard reports of natives in the Schwaner mountains, who are
said to have more hair on the body than Europeans, of a brownish colour,
while that on the head is black. Controleur Michielsen, [*] in the report
of his journey to the upper Sampit and Katingan in 1880, describes a
certain Demang Mangan who had long, thin hair on the head, while on the
chest and back it was of the same brown-red colour as that of the
orang-utan. His arms were long, his mouth large and forward-stretching,
with long upper lip, and his eye glances were shy. Among the Dayaks he was
known as mangan (red).
[Footnote *: Controleur W.J. Michielsen, _Verslag einer Reis door de boven
distrikten der Sampit en Katingan rivieren in Maart en April_, 1880.]
About noon we arrived at Sampit, a clean, attractive village situated on
slightly higher ground than is generally available on Bornean rivers. The
stream is broad here, having almost the appearance of a lake. As is the
custom, a small park surrounds the controleur's residence, and in the
outskirts of the town is a small, well-kept rubber plantation belonging to
a German. Sampit is a Katingan word, the name of an edible root, and
according to tradition the Katingans occupied the place in times long gone
by.
The weather was remarkably dry, so that the tanks at the corners of the
controleur's house, on which he depended for water, were becoming
depleted. When the fruits of the utan are ripe, the orang-utan may at
times be heard crying out in the neighbourhood, but on account of the dry
weather they had retired deeper into the jungle. Chonggat shot only one,
which was but half-grown and easily killed by a charge of shot. It is
often difficult to discover an orang-utan because he has a knack of hiding
himself where the foliage is densest, and if alarmed will proceed along
the branches of tall trees and thus disappear from sight.
This intelligent, man-like ape is probably not so common in Dutch Borneo
as he is supposed to be. Mr. Harry C. Raven, who collected animals in the
northeastern part, told me that in a year he had shot only one. The
orang-utans are generally found in Southern Borneo and do not go very far
inland; in Central Borneo they are extremely rare, almost unknown. It is
to be hoped that these interesting animals will not soon be exterminated.
A Malay, the only hunter in Sampit, told me that some are so old that they
can no longer climb trees. When wounded an orang-utan cries like a child
in quite an uncanny manner, as a Dutch friend informed me. According to
the Dayaks, it will wrest the spear from its attacker and use it on him.
They also maintain, as stated elsewhere, that orang-utans, contrary to the
generally accepted belief, are able to swim. Mr. B. Brouers, of
Bandjermasin, has seen monkeys swim; the red, the gray, and the black are
all capable of this, he said.
From a reliable source I have the following story. Eight Malays who had
made camp on a small promontory on the river, one morning were sitting
about sunning themselves when they were surprised to see an orang-utan
approaching. He entered their camp and one of the Malays nearest to him
instinctively drew his parang. Doubtless regarding this as an unfriendly
action, he seized one of the poles which formed the main framework of
their shelter and pulled it up, breaking the rattan fastenings as if they
were paper. The Malays now all attacked with their parangs, but the
orang-utan, taking hold of the end of the pole, swept it from side to side
with terrifying effect, and as the locality made it impossible to surround
him, they all soon had to take to the water to save themselves.
My informant, who had spent several years travelling in Southern Borneo
buying rubber from the natives, told me that one day his prahu passed a
big orang-utan sitting on the branch of a tree. The Malay paddlers shouted
to it derisively, and the animal began to break off branches and hurled
sticks at the prahu with astonishing force, making the Malays paddle off
as fast as they could. The several points of similarity between man and
highly developed monkeys are the cause of the amusing saying of the
natives of Java: the monkeys can talk, but they don't want to, because
they don't like to work.
The controleur obligingly put the government's steam launch _Selatan_ at
my disposal, which would take me to the kampong Sembulo on the lake of the
same name, whence it was my intention to return eastward, marching partly
overland. One evening in the middle of June we started. On entering the
sea the small vessel rolled more and more; when the water came over the
deck I put on my overcoat and lay down on top of the entrance to the
cabin, which was below. The wind was blowing harder than it usually does
on the coasts of Borneo, and in the early morning shallow waters, which
assume a dirty red-brown colour long before reaching the mouths of the
mud-laden rivers, rose into waves that became higher as we approached the
wide entrance to the Pembuang River.
The sea washed over the port side as if we were on a sailing-boat, but the
water flowed out again through a number of small, oblong doors at the
sides which opened and closed mechanically. The launch, which was built in
Singapore, behaved well, but we had a good deal of cargo on deck as well
as down in the cabin. Besides, the approach to Pembuang River is not
without risks. The sand-bars can be passed only at one place, which is
twelve or thirteen metres wide and, at low water, less than a metre deep.
The route is at present marked out, but in bygone years many ships were
wrecked here.
As the sea became more shallow the yellow-crested waves of dirty water
mixed with sand assumed an aspect of fury, and lying on my back I seemed
to be tossed from one wave to another, while I listened with some
apprehension to the melodious report of the man who took the depth of the
water: "Fourteen káki" (feet)! Our boat drew only six feet of water;
"Seven káki," he sang out, and immediately afterward, "Six káki!" Now we
are "in for it," I thought. But a few seconds more and we successfully
passed the dangerous bar, the waves actually lifting us over it. My two
assistants had spent the time on top of the baggage and had been very
seasick. We were all glad to arrive in the smooth waters of the river. The
captain, with whom later I became well acquainted, was an excellent
sailor, both he and the crew being Malays. It was the worst weather he had
experienced in the two years he had been at Sampit. According to him,
conditions in this part of Borneo may be even more stormy from August to
November.
In the Malay kampong, Pembuang, I procured a large pomelo, in Borneo
called limao, a delicious juicy fruit of the citrus order, but light-pink
inside and with little or no acidity. After the exertions of the night
this, together with canned bacon, fried and boiled potatoes, furnished an
ideal midday meal. Necessary repairs having been made to the engine, next
day, on a charming, peaceful afternoon, we continued our trip up the
river. An unusually large number of monkeys were seen on both sides, and
the men sat on the railing, with their feet hanging outside, to look at
them. The red, long-nosed variety did not retreat, but looked at us calmly
from the branch where it sat; other species hurried off, making incredibly
long leaps from branch to branch. Shortly after sunset we threw anchor.
Lake Sembulo is about sixteen kilometres long by about one in width. The
lake is entered suddenly, amid clumps of a big species of water plant
which in season has long white odoriferous flowers. Very striking is the
white bottom and the beaches consisting of gravel or sand. How far the
sandy region extends I am unable to say, but Mr. Labohm, the chief
forester, told me that in the Sampit River region northeast of here, and
about twenty metres above the sea, he walked for two days on whitish sand,
among rosaceae and azale, the forest being very thin. The comparatively
clear water is slightly tinged with reddish brown on account of its
connection with the Pembuang River, which has the usual colour of Bornean
rivers. Low receding hills rise all around as we steam along, and the
utan, which more or less covers the country, looks attractive, though at
first the forests surrounding the ladangs of the Malays are partly defaced
by dead trees, purposely killed by fire in order to gain more fields.
After a couple of hours we arrived at kampong Sembulo, which has an
alluring look when viewed from the lake, lying on a peninsula with
handsome trees which mercifully hide most of the houses. The kapala of
this Malay settlement, who came on board in a carefully laundered white
cotton suit, had courteous manners. He kindly arranged for three prahus to
take us and our belongings ashore.
There was a diminutive pasang-grahan here, neatly made from nipah palm
leaves, where I repaired, while Chonggat and Ah Sewey put up tents near
by. The presence of two easy chairs which had been brought from
Bandjermasin seemed incongruous to the surroundings, and had an irritating
rather than restful effect on me. Both Malays and Dayaks are very desirous
of securing European furniture for the house of the kapala, and will carry
a chair or table for hundreds of miles. On the occasion of my visit to the
Kenyah chief of Long Pelaban, in the Bulungan, he immediately went to a
heap of baskets and other articles occupying one side of the big room, dug
out a heavy table with marble top, which was lying overturned there, and
proudly placed it upright before me to be admired. That this piece of
furniture had been brought so great a distance over the kihams was almost
incomprehensible.
I had a talk with the kapala and a large number of people who soon
gathered in front of the pasang-grahan. The Dayaks who originally lived
here have disappeared or amalgamated with the Malay intruders, who in this
case are largely composed of less desirable elements. It soon became
evident that no information could be gained from these people in regard to
the traditions of the place. One man said that if I would wait four or
five days (in which to be exploited by the wily Malay) he would undertake
to bring me three old men of the place, whereupon the kapala, who was more
obliging than the rest, went to fetch one of these, who pretended to have
no knowledge in such matters.
In order to get relief from the increasing throng of men and boys, I went
for a walk, in which I was joined by the kapala and the mantri, a small
native police authority whom the controleur had sent with me to be of
assistance in making arrangements with the Malays. An old-looking wooden
mosque, twenty years old according to reports, stands at the turn of the
road. Near by is a cemetery covered with a large growth of ferns and
grass, which hides the ugly small monuments of the graves. The houses lie
along a single street in the shade of cocoanut-palms and other trees. On
account of the white sand that forms the ground everything looks clean,
and the green foliage of handsome trees was superb. Everywhere silence
reigned, for the women, being Mohammedans, remain as much as possible
inside the houses, and no voice of playing or crying child was heard.
On returning from our walk, near sunset, I asked the kapala how much I had
to pay for the bringing ashore of my baggage. "Fifteen rupia" (florins)
was the answer. As things go in Borneo this was an incredibly excessive
charge, and as my intention was to go by boat to the Dayak kampong on the
lake, and from there march overland to the small river, Kuala Sampit, I
demanded to know how much then I would have to pay for twenty men that I
needed for the journey. "Five rupia a day for each," he said. Dayaks, who
are far more efficient and reliable, are satisfied with one rupia a day.
Those near by protested that it was not too much, because in gathering
rubber they made even more a day. At that rate it would have cost me a
hundred florins a day, besides their food, with the prospects of having
strikes for higher pay all the way, according to the Malay custom.
Luckily the _Selatan_ had delayed its departure until next morning, so I
was not yet at the mercy of the greedy natives. The kapala seemed to have
as little influence with the people as the mantri, who plainly was afraid
of them. I got a prahu and went out to the captain, who arranged to take
us back next day, away from these inhospitable shores. At dusk he
accompanied me ashore, and in a refreshingly courageous manner read them
the text, telling them that I, who came recommended from the
Governor-General, was entitled to consideration; that it was a disgrace to
the Malay name to behave as they had done, etc. While I was eating my
evening meal two long rows of men were sitting outside on the ground,
watching the performance with close attention.
Next morning the _Selatan's_ boat came to assist in bringing us on board
again. After the captain's severe arraignment last night the mantri seemed
to have spurred up his courage. He said that two rupia would be sufficient
to pay for our luggage. I gave one ringit (f. 2.50), which the captain
said was ample. The kapala, who had exerted himself to get our things on
board again, thanked me for the visit and we steamed away, arriving safely
in Sampit a couple of days later.