THE KAYANS OF BARAM.
Unaccountable Panic--Man Overboard--Fishing--Coast
Scenery--Baram Point--Floating Drift--Pretty Coast
to Labuan--Thunder and Lightning Bay--Bar of the
Brunei--River Scenery--The Capital--Little Children in
Canoes--Floating Market--Kayan Attack--The Present Sultan’s
Story--Fire-arms--Devastation of the Interior--Customs of the
Kayans--Upas Tree--View of the Capital--The Fountains--The
Baram--Kayan Stratagem--Wild Cattle--Banks of the River--Gading
Hill--Ivory--Elephants on North-east Coast--Hunting--Startling
Appearance--Town of Langusin--Salutes--First
Interview--Graves--Wandering Kanowits--Appearance of
the Kayans--Visit Singauding--Religion--Houses--Huge
Slabs--Skulls--Women tatooed--Mats--Visit the Chiefs--Drinking
Chorus--Extempore Song--Head-hunting--Effect of
Spirits--Sacrifice--Ceremony of Brotherhood--Effect of
Newly-cleared Jungle--War Dance--Firewood--Customs--Origin of
Baram Kayans--Vocabulary--Trade--Birds’ Nests--Destruction
of Wealth--Manners and Customs--Iron--Visit Edible
Birds’ Nest Caves--The Caves--Narrow Escape--Two Kinds
of Swallows--Neat House--Visit of Singauding--Visit to
Si Obong--Her Dress--Hip-lace--Her Employments--Farewell
Visit--Fireworks--Smelting Iron--Accident--Departure--Kayans
Cannibals--Anecdotes--Former Method of Trading--Unwelcome
Visitors.
In April, 1851, the steamer _Pluto_, Acting Commander Brett,
arrived in Sarawak with directions to take me on an official visit to
Brunei and Baram. Sarawak was at that time suffering from one of those
unaccountable panics which sometimes seize on both large and small
communities. The report was that a French fleet was outside preparing
to attack the place. People packed up their valuables, and some even
carried them off to the forest. The only way we could account for it
was the news of the recent destruction of the capital of Sulu by the
Spaniards having by this time spread over the Archipelago, and been
distorted 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 the
bridge of the vessel, when we were startled by the cry of a “man
overboard.” To stop the steamer, pull the trigger that disengaged
the flaming life-buoy, and to let down the boats, did not take many
minutes, and they soon pushed off from the sides. While we stood on
the deck with strained attention, a sharp cry was heard; then there
was a dead silence, followed immediately by the sound of the oars in
the rowlocks as the men gave way towards the life-buoy that was seen
floating astern like a bright torch dancing on the waves. We thought we
heard another fainter cry, but the mind in great tension will imagine
these things. We could distinguish amid the sound of splashing water
the distant shouts of the men as the crews hailed each other, but no
answer was given to our captain’s eager inquiries, as the rustling of
the wind in our rigging, and those varied sounds that ever will arise
around a ship laying to, drowned his voice. The anxiety of all was
intense as the boats pulled back, and a sickening feeling came over
us all when we found that their search had been unavailing. Either
strength had failed the man, or a shark had seized him before he could
reach the life-buoy. The passionate grief of the son of the drowned
Portuguese now struck painfully on our ears, and I was not sorry to
gain the refuge of the inner cabin.
In sailing along this coast fine fish and small sharks are often caught
by hook and line trailing out far behind the vessels. The Tañgiri fish
is perhaps the finest: the usual size obtained varies from three to
five feet, and it has something of the look of a salmon, without its
richness of flavour. We have caught also many young sharks, but all
under 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 that
change is palatable.
The coast line between Sarawak and Baram point is the least beautiful
of the north-west coast. Scarcely any but hills far in the interior
are seen, and the land is either flat or gently undulating hill and
dale, but with few distinctive features. However, in the depth of the
great bay that lies between Points Sirik and Baram, near the river of
Bintulu, there are some fine mountains; and once, during a very clear
day, 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 the
northern 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 agricultural
advantages, it is satisfactory. Broad plains of alluvial soil, as rich,
perhaps, as any in the world, and a fine succession of swelling hill
and dale afford some compensation to one who, as I do, looks upon this
coast as capable of as much development as a similar space in Java.
Between Bintulu and Baram there are two remarkable serrated
mountains--Siluñgan and Lambir; but in this ninety miles of coast one
small village only is to be found, and unless you penetrate far into
the interior, there are but a few wandering Punans and others who
inhabit it.
Baram is a dangerous point to ships, as it lies low and the sea shoals
rapidly. Here in the rainy season the fresh water rushes out with so
much force, as to carry it unmixed four or five miles from land, where
native prahus often take in their supplies. Large trunks of trees are
continually floating about, which are brought down from the interior,
and are very dangerous to small vessels, and many a Malay trader has
owed to them his ruin. Off Sirik Point a prahu struck and immediately
sunk. Her captain reported a rock, but as the coast near was simply
alluvial deposit, and the fishermen who frequent this spot have never
found it, it is generally thought that he suffered from a submerged
tree.
I was once a passenger on board a frigate while she sailed by this
point. We were sitting below, and heard her distinctly strike, and a
grating sound as of crushed coral was audible. “On shore again,” was
the general observation: we went on deck, to find her running before
the wind at ten knots an hour. We had, I believe, simply passed over
one of these huge trunks. I have mentioned elsewhere the mass of
floating weeds and trees that continually gyrates in a circle about
fifteen miles off this point.
Although my object was to visit the Baram river, yet I was obliged to
pass on to Labuan and Brunei to obtain interpreters and guides. As we
approached our little English colony we found our coal was all used,
and we could scarcely reach the harbour, although we burnt a horse-box
and everything available on board.
The coast line between Baram and Brunei is very pretty. As we approach
the capital, the interminable jungle gives way to grassy hills, with
a park-like distribution of timber. Curling wreaths of smoke rising
from the shaded valleys, told us that the inhabitants were numerous. In
the far distance we could see the great mountain of Molu, the loftiest
known, except Kina Balu: the latter was visible to-day, although about
120 miles off; it looked like a huge table mountain rising from the
sea, all intervening ground being lost in the distance.
We reached Labuan the day before the Queen’s birthday, in time to be
present at the official dinner given by Governor Scott. I shall take
another opportunity to notice this island.
We heard on our arrival that Mr. Low, the Colonial treasurer, had made
an attempt to reach the summit of Kina Balu. It was generally said
he had failed; but many years after, I was able to prove that he had
reached to within a few hundred feet of the very highest peaks.
After some days’ stay to coal, we started for the capital, which lies
about thirty-three miles to the S.S.W. The bay opposite Labuan is one
of the most striking on the coast. The mountains commence within a few
miles of the shore, and tower in successive ranges to Brayong, and Si
Guntang, about 8,000 feet in height.
By naval men this is called Thunder-and-Lightning Bay, and it well
deserves the name, as scarcely a day passes without some heavy squall
sweeping down from the mountains, while the brightest lightning
flashes, and the thunder rolls and re-echoes among the hills.
The entrance to the inner bay, into which so many rivers pour their
waters, 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, reputed
deadly; but I have stayed there many times, and none of my people
suffered. Keeping along the southern shore of the island, the channel
is reached, and as we approach the true entrance of the Brunei river
the scenery becomes lovely.
To the right is the island of Iñgaran, with its remains of Spanish
batteries; to the left, picturesque Chermin. No ship of any size can
enter the river, as eight feet at low water, and fourteen at high, is
what the bar affords, which is also rendered more difficult by a long
artificial dam of stones thrown across the stream in former times to
prevent the approach of hostile squadrons. The water, however, has
forced an angular passage to the right, through which vessels are
obliged to pass. It is one of the worst rivers for commercial purposes
in Borneo.
Beautiful hills rise sharply from the banks; some are wooded, with
clumps of lofty palms pushing their way up through the jungle, while
others are cleared, presenting swelling grassy summits and green
slopes. Before us the honoured hill of Sei rises, and forms, as it
were, an abrupt termination of the river. The Borneans take a pride in
this hill that overshadows their town, although its elevation is but
700 feet.
Turning sharply to the right, we saw the first houses of the capital
of Borneo, by the natives called Dar’u’salam, or the Abode of Peace,
and which has been truly described as the “Venice of hovels.” The
salt-water creek or river here expands to a small lake, and on
mud-banks are the houses, built on the slenderest of piles--mere palms,
that rot in three years. Slow, sluggish, and muddy, the water passes
underneath, to leave, at ebb tide, exposed banks emitting the most
offensive effluvia, which turns the gold and silver of uniforms to the
colour of dirt.
As soon as we had anchored, the steamer was surrounded by a crowd of
canoes, some so small as scarcely to float a child of five years of
age--in fact, but a hollowed log. Mothers do not fear to trust their
children 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 fixed
on his brothers paddling in the water; presently it gave a crow of
delight, and leaving its mother’s arms, sprang into the river to enjoy
the fun. He was not more than three years old.
The whole town appeared to be interested in our arrival, for, as we
passed up the broad and deep river between the lines of houses, crowds
of men, women, and children thronged the verandahs.
The floating market mentioned by Forrest was there also--several
hundred canoes, each containing one or two women, covered over with mat
hats a yard in diameter, floated up and down about the town, pulling
through the water lanes and resting for a while in the slack tide at
the 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 thousand
requires some arrangement: so every morning a market is held at various
points, where the hill people assemble and exchange their agricultural
produce for salt, fish, iron, and clothes. The old women are diligent
frequenters of these places, and buy here to retail in the capital.
I have often come across these extemporized markets: some held under
groves of fruit-trees; others on grassy fields, but, by choice or
accident, always in a lovely spot.
We had not long been anchored when the Sultan and ministers sent
messengers 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, as
there is little doubt that this slave-acquiring and head-hunting people
are destroying the interior population.
To-day they had received news that three long war-boats of their
enemies had been dragged over into the waters of the upper Limbang;
that they had attacked a party of the Sultan’s Murut subjects, and
killed six, after which they had immediately returned to their own
country. It is evident that the Borneans are in great fear of the
ultimate result of these forays. The old Sultan being ill, I did not
see him, but spent the evening with Pañgeran Mumein, the prime minister
(and present Sultan). He is an amiable man, and bears a better
character than the rest; his great fault is grasping. He is always
telling the story of his fight with the Kayans, which exemplifies how
easily these men were defeated by the use of musketry. Some years
since, Pañgeran Mumein hearing that the district of Tamburong was
invaded by the people of Baram, collected his followers and guns,
and proceeded thither. When they came in sight of the Kayans crowded
round a village, the Malays became alarmed, and wished to retreat; but
their leader sprang forward and fired a brass swivel at the enemy; it
fortunately took effect on one, and the crowd dispersed. Recovering
from their fright, the Borneans fired volley after volley into the
jungle, and celebrated their victory by loud beatings of gongs and
drums. The Kayans, still more frightened, fled in all directions.
Pañgeran Mumein justly observed, that as long as the Kayans were
unacquainted with the use of fire-arms, it was easy to defend the
country; but that now the Bornean traders were supplying them with
brass swivels and double-barrel guns, he thought that the ruin of
Brunei was at hand. But the fact is, that though the Kayans are now
less frightened at the noise of heavy guns and muskets than they were,
they seldom employ them in their expeditions in the jungle, as they
cannot keep them in working order.
With the assistance of his followers’ memories, Mumein repeated the
names of forty villages that had been destroyed within the last ten
years, and the majority of the inhabitants captured or killed.
Several of the respectable Malay traders of the place have agreed to go
with me as guides and interpreters; among the rest are Gadore, Abdul
Ajak, and Bakir, the principal dealers with Baram. Bakir had but just
arrived from that country, and he says that the Kayans are anxiously
awaiting my arrival, having heard that I was ready for the steamer.
As he appears a very intelligent fellow, I will note down some of the
information he gave me about the people. Their customs appear much the
same as those of the Sea Dayaks: he began, oddly enough, with their
funerals. When a man dies, they wrap him up in cloths and place him in
a kind of box on top of four upright poles, and leave him there with
some 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 each
other, their intercourse is unrestrained: should the girl prove with
child, a marriage takes place; their great anxiety for children makes
them take this precaution against sterility.
We pulled in the evening to visit the fine upas-tree growing at the end
of the reach below the town. We landed at a Mahomedan burying-place,
and there met a Malay, who warned us not to approach this deadly
tree, but we smilingly thanked him and continued our course, forcing
our way through the tangled bushes at its base: it has a noble stem,
some five-and-thirty feet without a branch, and eighteen feet in
circumference; the colour of its bark is a light brown. The tree is a
very handsome and spreading one, and its bright rich green contrasted
well with the dark foliage beyond.
[Illustration:
T. Picken lith. Day & Son, Lith^{rs}. to the Queen.
Published by Smith Elder & C^o. 65, Cornhill, London.
THE CITY OF BRUNEI--SUNSET.]
Leaving the burying-ground, we fell down the river a hundred yards, and
then walked up a path leading over the hills, where a dip rendered
the passage easier. Arriving at the summit, we saw the town spread
out, map-like, before us, and it is one of the loveliest scenes I have
ever witnessed. The sun was just setting amid a broken heap of clouds,
and threw its dimmed rays on everything around. The river, slowly
meandering through the town and country, flowed past our feet, its
rippled waters faintly tinged with purple; while around, till hidden by
the now rapidly-approaching darkness, we could perceive a succession of
hills, gilded here and there, and generally clothed with trees to the
very summit; but, that the eye might not be wearied, many an eminence
was grass-covered. A cool breeze blew gently down the river, and was
pleasantly refreshing after the hot day.
Before darkness had quite enveloped us, we visited those little grottos
whence the Borneans obtain their supplies of drinking water. Rills are
led through bamboo-pipes, and brought conveniently to fill the jars
that crowd the numerous boats, each waiting its turn. Brunei water is
famous; it runs through a sandstone district, and is very clear and
tasteless. One of these places is called to this day “The Factor’s
Fountain,” and brings back to one’s mind the time, when the East India
Company had a factory here and traded in pepper.
Having collected our Bornean guides, who vainly endeavoured to load the
steamer with their trading goods, we bade adieu to the authorities and
started for Labuan. We stayed there but a few hours, and then steamed
away for the Baram.
Next morning we arrived off the mouth, and, by not steering towards
land till the northern point of the river bore due east, came in with
one-and-a-half fathom water. The natives say there is a deeper channel
to be found by keeping close in to the northern shore, but it has not
yet been completely surveyed. A fresh breeze was blowing, which curled
the waves and dashed them in breakers on the sandbank; so that our
passage was made in a sea of foam. This obstruction renders the river
comparatively useless, and is greatly to be regretted, as immediately
the 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 gradually
narrows, and then varies in breadth from 300 to 500 yards. Casuarians
line the entrance, then nipa palms, and the usual jungle pressing
closely 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 white
and 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 suffered
heavily by the attacks of the Kayans.
Makota, the Malay noble so often mentioned in Keppel’s _Voyage of
the Dido_, as the chief opponent of European influence in Borneo,
and certainly the ablest and most unscrupulous man, and yet the most
agreeable companion I have found among the Malays, told me how the
Kayans had managed to obtain a village of Muruts in the Blait country.
It had often been attacked, but, as a strong stockade had been built
round it, they had defied the enemy.
One day, a fugitive party of three men and several women and children
were seen flying from the jungle towards the Murut village. Some armed
men went out to meet them, and they said that they had run away from
the Kayans, and were now escaping pursuit. They proved to be Muruts
of a distant river, who had been captured and held in slavery by the
Kayans. The Blaits received them with hospitality, and offered them
room in their long village houses that contained 150 families. The
fugitives, however, said they preferred keeping their party together,
and asked leave to build up a temporary hut against the inner side of
the 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 out
till sunset, and explained it by saying he had been hunting, and that
the chase had led him farther than he intended. It was a dark night
that followed; and, about four in the morning, a large party of Kayans
crawled quietly up to the stockade, and found an entrance prepared
for them. The posts had been removed by the stranger Muruts, who had
gradually cut through the wood that formed the inner wall of their
temporary shed. When sufficient were within the defences, a loud shout
was raised, and fire applied to the leaf houses. The villagers rushed
out to be cut down or captured. In the confusion and the darkness,
however, the larger portion escaped, but left about a hundred and
fifty bodies and captives in the hands of the Kayans; and I am not
sorry to add, among the former were the three treacherous men who had
caused this awful scene. Some of the attacking party not obtaining
heads, quietly possessed themselves of those of their three allies.
Kum Lia planned and led this foray. I had some doubts of the truth of
this circumstantially told story; and many years after, meeting Kum Lia
in daily intercourse, I asked him about it. He was proud to acknowledge
that he was the author of the able stratagem, but was not clear as to
whether they had also slain their allies, but thought it very possible
that his followers had done so.
At sunset we passed the island of Bakong, divided by narrow waters from
the shore, and along the banks grass grew luxuriantly. We were struck
by the appearance of dark objects; and, seeing them move, telescopes
were 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-five
miles from the mouth of the Baram. During the night careful
observations were made, and it was found that at the height of the
flood the river rose only three feet, and the strength of the current
averaged only one mile per hour.
Started before sunrise; the stream continues much the same. At first
there were more open glades, with rich soft-looking grass like our
English meadows; traces of wild cattle and deer were constantly to be
observed. The river was seldom over four hundred yards in breadth, but
never less than two; the soundings changed from three fathoms to no
bottom with the usual line, but this great variation was caused by our
not 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 how
the stream doubles on itself, rendering it a very difficult matter to
steer. Occasionally the current would catch the bow of the steamer, and
force it on the shore; but immediately the stern felt the same force,
it was pressed also towards the bank, and the stem again would point
up stream. It was at last found the easiest and safest way to turn the
sharp points.
To-day we steamed by several Malay trading prahus pulling up the
stream, and observed one enormous Tapang tree that rose close to the
water’s edge.
Early in the afternoon we passed the embouchure of the Tingjir on the
left bank; it was about a third of the size of the Baram, and is said
to be shallow: it is well inhabited by a tribe of people called Sububs,
with whom the Kayans are interspersed. A couple of hours after, we
reached the Tutu on the right bank; up this the Kayans proceed when
intent on a foray in the Upper Limbang country.
Saw the first Kayans near this spot. Two canoes were coming down the
river; directly they perceived the moving monster approaching, they
turned and fled; but as they found we were overtaking them, they
deserted their canoes and dashed ashore. Three, however, remained
at the edge of the jungle, and we reassured them by waving our
handkerchiefs. It was a pardonable fear, they had never before seen
anything larger than their own war boats. They looked very much like
the 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 are
now far beyond the influence of the tides, yet the current averaged but
a mile and a half.
Again started before sunrise; the river continued its winding course
with a few patches of greensward; our guides say there are no more wild
cattle, but many deer in this neighbourhood. We passed the sites of
numerous deserted plantations and of a few new ones: we startled the
people at a farmhouse by running our bowsprit into their verandah: no
wonder the women and children fled shrieking to the jungle.
Most of these habitations are built on high posts, and are very neatly
constructed. Generally, the people showed little fear, but crowded the
verandahs to look at us, some rushing to their boats to follow. We
again found a little difficulty in rounding the sharp points, and were
constantly striking the banks, but no damage was done, although we were
often among the overhanging branches of the jungle.
We touched once, while near the centre of the stream, on what I do not
know, probably a rock or a stump of a tree--the snags of the American
rivers. But just above this spot was the abrupt hill of Gading, that
rises perpendicularly from the banks, and is brightly white, with deep
fissures, and is celebrated for its birds’-nest caves. I am sorry we
did not stop to examine this, as many years after I found among the
Muruts 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-east
coast, and the mention of Gading (ivory) brought to his recollection
that elephants exist in the districts about the river Kina Batañgan. I
have seen many tusks brought to Labuan for sale, but never measured one
longer 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 own
experience has been limited to finding their traces near the sea-beach.
It is generally believed that above a hundred years ago the East India
Company sent to the Sultan of Sulu a present of these animals; that
the Sultan said these great creatures would certainly eat up the whole
produce of his own little island, and asked the donors to land them at
Cape Unsang, on the north-east coast of Borneo, where his people would
take care of them. But it is contrary to their nature to take care of
any animal that requires much trouble, so the elephants sought their
own 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 dead
bodies found in the forests, but there is now living, one man who
drives a profitable trade in fresh ivory. He sallies out on dark
nights, with simply a waistcloth and a short, sharp spear: he crawls
up to a herd of elephants, and selecting a large one, drives his spear
into the animal’s belly. In a moment, the whole herd is on the move,
frightened by the bellowing of their wounded companion, who rushes to
and fro, until the panic spreads, and they tear headlong through the
jungle, crushing before them all smaller vegetation. The hunter’s peril
at that moment is great, but fortune has favoured him yet, as he has
escaped being trampled to death.
In the morning he follows the traces of the herd, and, carefully
examining the soil, detects the spots of blood that have fallen from
the wounded elephant. He often finds him, so weakened by loss of blood
as to be unable to keep up with the rest of the herd, and a new wound
is soon inflicted. Patiently pursuing this practice, the hunter has
secured many of these princes of the forest.
One can easily understand how startled a man unused to an animal
larger than a pony would feel on suddenly finding himself face to face
with a huge elephant. My favourite follower, Musa, has often made his
audience laugh by an account of the feelings he experienced, when,
pulling up the great river of Kina Batañgan, he steered close in-shore
to avoid the strength of the current, and, looking up to find what was
moving near, saw a noble tusked elephant above him, with his proboscis
stretched over the boat to pick fruit beyond--“The paddle dropped from
my hand, life left me, but the canoe drifted back out of danger.”
The banks of the Baram gradually became higher, and topped by neat
farm-houses, increased in beauty; but I think the first view of
the Kayan town of Lañgusin was one of the most picturesque I have
ever witnessed. Long houses, built on lofty posts, on hills of
various heights, yet appearing to be clustered together, while near
were numerous little rice stores, neatly whitewashed. I never saw
a prettier-looking place. We steered on, until we reached a long
village-house, still building, opposite which we anchored. Crowds
immediately assembled on the banks, and the Bornean traders came off to
give and receive news.
The chief, Tamawan, now sent to know how the salutes were to be
arranged, and we agreed that as usual we should salute his flag first,
and that he should return it. We were rather surprised to find an
English ensign hoisted, but he had received it from a trader, and said
he 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 and
re-echoed among the neighbouring hills, startling the whole population,
who had never before heard anything louder than a brass swivel. The
salute was returned by an irregular firing, that continued for about an
hour--the greater number of guns the greater honour.
My Malay followers were very desirous that I should show the utmost
dignity, 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 while
these preliminaries were discussing, and walked to the spot where all
the principal men were assembled under a temporary shed. Two chairs
and two boxes covered with English rugs were arranged at one end.
Before taking my seat, I shook hands with all around. This was a formal
meeting, and I explained to them the object of our coming, which was
to cement the friendship of the English with the Kayans. Having just
arrived from the Kanowit, I was enabled to give them some intelligence
from 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 of
informing them that small-pox had broken out on the Rejang, and was
committing fearful ravages. I did not tell the latter of the death of
his younger brother by Kayan hands, as it might prove disagreeable to
be informed of it publicly.
I did not stay long, as they appeared to be uneasy, but with general
assurances 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 describing
the Sea Dayaks. They are much like the Sakarangs, except that they are
slightly tatooed with a few stars and other marks; however, I have not
as yet seen much of them.
Along the banks of the river, we observed many Kayan graves: the body
is wrapped up, enclosed within a hollowed coffin, and raised on two
thick, carved posts, with roughly carved woodwork extending out from
each corner, like those seen on the roofs of Budhist temples. In one
they put so many goods that the Bornean traders were tempted to rob
them; and had not the Kayans discovered who were the culprits, the
rest would have suffered heavily. The Bornean thieves escaped, but they
and all their connections are for ever precluded from trading with this
district.
Diñgun came on board to hear more particular news of his family, and
was shocked on being informed of the death of his brother: he told
me he should return home in about five months. Two years ago, he and
a party of thirty started from Kanowit, and proceeded up the Rejang,
amusing themselves with the Kayans; they then pushed on and crossed
over to Baram, where they had remained guests of the principal chiefs.
He and his companions were easily distinguished from their neighbours
by their profuse tatooing. I was enabled to give him some information
about 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 not
very dangerous, as the women and children bathed daily opposite the
ship. Strength of current, two knots per hour.
Next morning, the chiefs came on board. I will give their names as
a curiosity:--Tamawan, Siñgauding, Kum Lia, the hero of the Blait
surprise, Si Matau, Longapan, and Longkiput, with some hundreds of
followers. They were charmed to be allowed freely to inspect the
vessel. Tamawan looks a savage, and doubtless is one: he had on but
little dress--a waistcloth of about two fathoms of gray shirting, a
handkerchief tossed over his shoulder, and a head-dress of dark cloth.
He is but slightly tatooed, having a couple of angles on his breast, a
few stars on his arms, his hands as far as the joints of his fingers,
and a few fanciful touches about his elbows; his ears were bored
and then drawn down by leaden weights, as is the fashion among the
Kanowits; the tops of his ears were also bored, and the long teeth of
the tiger-cat stuck through them like a pair of turn-down horns. And
such 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 of
trimmings. Tamawan was a small man, but Simatau and Siñgauding were
hulking fellows; they were all strong or wiry-looking men, capable of
much fatigue; their countenances, on the whole, were pleasant. I took
them down to inspect the machinery, and my Bornean followers were their
guides to show them all the other wonders on board, particularly the
large thirty-two pounder gun, which greatly excited their respect.
Kum Lia, who is the son-in-law of Kum Nipa, of Rejang, whom I have
mentioned as the chief we intended to visit, when we were stopped by
the small-pox having broken out in his country, stayed after the others
to inquire about his family. He remembered the name of Niblett, who
commanded the _Phlegethon_ when it called at Bintulu in 1847.
In the evening I visited Siñgauding at his house. I should like to have
taken up my residence on shore, but they were desirous to make so many
preparations that I gave up the idea, as our stay would necessarily be
short, although I was anxious to observe them more closely.
Our talk was at first about steamers, balloons, and rockets, of which
they had heard much from the Borneans. They particularly wished to know
if we had a telescope that could discover the hidden treasures of the
earth, as they had heard we possessed one that showed mountains in the
moon.
I was unfortunate in the medium through which I obtained my
information. The Bornean interpreters are only anxious on the subject
of trade; and being Mahomedans always laugh at the superstitions of
the wild tribes. I therefore give, with some hesitation, what they
told me concerning their religion. They said the name of their god was
Totaduñgan, and he was the supreme ruler who created, and now reigned
over all; that he had a wife, but no children; beneath him were many
other inferior powers. They believed in a future life, with separate
places for the souls of the good and of the bad; that their heaven and
hell were divided into many distinct residences; that those who died
from wounds, from sickness, or were drowned, went each to separate
places. If a woman died before her husband, she went to the other
world and married. On the death of her husband, if he came to the same
world, she repudiated her ghostly partner and returned to him who had
possessed her on earth.
Siñgauding’s house was of a similar construction to those of the Sea
Dayaks, very long, with a broad, covered verandah, as a public room,
and a sleeping-place for the bachelors, while off it were separate
apartments for the married people, the young girls, and children. The
roof was of shingle, the posts of heavy wood, the flooring of long and
broad rough planks, the partitions of the same material, with small
doors about two feet above the floor, leading into the inner rooms.
Every Kayan chief of consideration possesses a kind of seat formed from
the Tapang tree. It is, in fact, a huge slab, cut out of the buttress
of that lofty tree; and this seat descends from father to son, till
it is polished and black with age. Siñgauding gave me one, measuring
ten feet six inches by six feet six inches. It was made into a very
handsome dining-table, but was unfortunately burnt during the Chinese
insurrection of 1857. When Siñgauding heard of this, he determined to
send me another that should throw the former into the shade; and I
heard that the one selected was fifteen feet by nine. Up to August,
1861, it had not reached me, as all the Malay traders declared their
boats were too small to receive it.
Near the spot where we sat conversing were open baskets, hung near
the fire-places, containing the human heads they had captured. The
house certainly did not look cheerful; but I saw it under unfavourable
circumstances--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 but
a cloth like a handkerchief hung round the body, and tucked in at
one side above the hip, leaving a portion of the thigh visible. When
bathing, their tatooing makes them look as if they were all wearing
black breeches. They are tolerable-looking women; and I saw a few
pleasant countenances.
The visit of the steamer was not timed very fortunately, as Tamadin,
an influential chief, with a large party, was away head-hunting; and
a rumour had arrived of a very severe loss having been suffered by a
force that started for the interior of the Limbang and Trusan rivers.
If we could stay twenty days we should see all the population; but I
have had a hint that the provisions are running short, and nothing can
be procured here but a few pigs, fowls, and goats, all very dear.
I have calculated the population of this town, called Lañgusin, at
2,500 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 shore
were borne to us, as they were working with might and main to finish
the long village-house of Tamawan. He gave them some drink, and they
worked half the night.
They showed me some very pretty mats to-day made by the wandering tribe
of Punans, who live on jungle produce, and collect honey and wax.
Next day I sent some presents to Siñgauding and Tamawan, and at their
special invitation went ashore to meet them. A large temporary shed
sheltered us from the sun. There was no inconvenient crowding, not more
than a hundred men being assembled, and about twenty women, the wives
and daughters of their chiefs. Among them there were some interesting
girls. They wore their long black hair quite loose, only white fillets
being bound round the forehead, so as to cast the hair in heavy masses
over their ears and down their backs. Their countenances were open,
bright dark eyes, smooth foreheads, depressed noses, clear skin, but
indifferent mouths. They had good figures and well set up busts. I
have as yet seen no old women and men in the tribe.
One of the objects of my visit was to inquire into the alleged bad
conduct of an English trader and of a Sarawak Malay. I spent two hours
in this investigation. When this was over, native arrack and some of
my French brandy was introduced. About a third of a tumbler of the
former was handed to me. As I raised it to my lips, the whole assembly
burst out into what appeared a drinking chorus; and this they did when
any man of note drank. A little spirit getting into them, they became
more cheerful and amusing; and we talked about their head-hunting
propensities. The wholesome advice I felt compelled to give them on
this 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 very
excited chorus allowed the liquor to flow down.
When this was finished, Tamawan jumped up, and while standing burst out
into 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 great
delight.
Tamawan now sat down and talked about head-hunting again. He said
that when the Kayans attacked a village, they only killed those who
resisted or attempted to escape; the rest they brought home with them,
turning them in fact into field slaves. He declared, however, that his
great village, and twenty-one others, were averse to the practice of
head-hunting; but that over the twenty-eight other villages he had no
influence. The above forty-nine villages he went over by name, and
mentioned likewise the principal chief in each. They assert that a
village was considered small that had only a hundred families, while
a large one contained four hundred. If we may judge from the account
he gave of the town opposite which we are anchored, he must have
underrated considerably. He said this contained two hundred families;
but after going over the numbers in each village-house, we came to the
conclusion that there were at least five hundred families in Lañgusin.
But as long as head-hunting is considered an honourable pursuit, and
the acquisition of Murut slaves enables the chiefs to live without
labour, it will be impossible to put a stop to their forays.
Tamawan had excited himself on this subject, and again feeling very
thirsty after all the information he had given me, now looked about
for something to drink. I was beginning to congratulate myself on its
being finished, when he spoke to a very pretty girl who was standing
near, and she instantly disappeared to return with a couple of bottles
of brandy in her hands. The two tumblers were again filled more than
half-full--one for me, the other for himself. I remembered what Sydney
Smith said of the little effect spirit often has on the temperate
man, and joined him in this last pledge. I pitied the poor Malays,
who had never been accustomed to anything stronger than tea, being
forced to follow our example; and yet it was ridiculous to watch their
contortions and wry faces, as their inexorable hosts forced them to
swallow their allowance.
Now came a ceremony new to me: a young pig was brought in by the pretty
waiting-maid and handed over to one of the men present, who bound
its legs, and carrying it out opposite to where the _Pluto_ was
anchored, placed it on the ground. Mats were laid around, and a chair
was 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 of
friendship with which he regarded the English; spoke of the wonderful
vessel that came with oars of fire; seized my hand, and gesticulated
excitedly with the other; then pointing to the pig, he entered on what
appeared to be a prayer, as he seemed appealing to something beyond
him; he took a knife, and cut the pig’s throat; the body was then
opened, and the heart and liver taken out and placed on two leaves,
and closely examined, to judge from their appearance whether our visit
would be fortunate for the Kayan nation. Every chief present felt
their different proportions, and Tamawan pointed out to me the various
indications. Luckily for our friendship, they found that every portion
portended good fortune. With his bloody hand Tamawan grasped mine, and
expressed his delight at the happy augury. Throwing away the auricle of
the heart, they cut up the rest to eat, and placed the pieces over the
fire, using a bambu as a cooking vessel.
I now took my leave, rather tired with my four hours’ exertions, and
returned on board. The ceremony of examining the heart and liver of
the pig was too classical not to merit particular notice, though I have
already mentioned that the Sakarang Dayaks practise the same.
Next day being Sunday, the Malays kept the Kayans from coming on
board. I inquired particularly as to the meaning of Tamawan’s address
yesterday, and I hear that it was an invocation to the spirits of good
and evil to allow him to discover from the heart of the sacrifice
whether our visit was to prove fortunate or not to the Kayan nation.
Siñgauding sent on board to request me to become his brother by going
through the sacred custom of imbibing each other’s blood. I say
imbibing, because it is either mixed with water and drunk, or else it
is placed within a native cigar and drawn in with the smoke. I agreed
to do so, and the following day was fixed for the ceremony. It is
called Berbiang by the Kayans; Bersabibah by the Borneans. I landed
with our party of Malays, and after a preliminary talk, to give time
for the population to assemble, the affair commenced. We sat in the
broad verandah of a long house, surrounded by hundreds of men, women,
and children, all looking eagerly at the white stranger who was about
to enter their tribe. Stripping my left arm, Kum Lia took a small piece
of wood, shaped like a knife-blade, and slightly piercing the skin,
brought blood to the surface; this he carefully scraped off: then one
of my Malays drew blood in the same way from Siñgauding, and a small
cigarette being produced, the blood on the wooden blades was spread on
the tobacco. A chief then arose, and walking to an open place, looked
forth upon the river and invoked their god and all the spirits of good
and evil to be witness of this tie of brotherhood. The cigarette was
then lighted, and each of us took several puffs, and the ceremony was
concluded. I was glad to find that they had chosen the form of inhaling
the blood in smoke, as to have swallowed even a drop would have been
unpleasant, though the disgust would only arise from the imagination.
They sometimes vary the custom, though the variation may be confined to
the Kiniahs, who live farther up the river, and are intermarried with
the Kayans. There a pig is brought and placed between the two who are
to 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 then
killed, and after an exchange of jackets, a sword is thrust into the
wound, 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 joining
their drinking party and now entering their tribe, and binding myself
to them by a tie which they look on as sacred. We had a long talk about
the advantage which would accrue to trade if the Kayans establish their
town nearer the mouth of the river; as at present it takes a Malay
boat sixteen days to reach it in the fine season, and thirty in the
wet. I found they had tried it once, by removing to the mouth of the
Tingjir; but building their houses over the freshly-cleared jungle they
lost a great many men by fever. They accounted for this by saying they
had accidentally fallen upon a spot that was much frequented by evil
spirits, and so had returned to their original site.
To close this meeting merrily, a large jar of arrack was introduced,
and subsequently a bottle of brandy. Excited by this, Si-Matau clothed
himself in full war costume and commenced a sword dance. He was a fine,
strong fellow, and with his dress of black bear-skin ornamented with
feathers, his sword in hand, and shield adorned with many-coloured
hair, said to be human, he looked truly formidable. His dancing
expressed the character of the people--quick and vigorous motions,
showing to advantage the development of his muscles. He was accompanied
by the music of a two-stringed instrument, resembling a rough guitar:
the body was shaped like a decked Malay trading prahu, with a small
hole an inch in diameter in the centre; the strings were the fine
threads of rattan twisted and drawn up tightly by means of tuning-keys;
however, the sound produced was not very different from that of a
tightly-drawn string. Some of the lookers-on were young girls with
regular 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 it
did not appear so bright and cheerful as the light yellow matted walls
of the latter. I never saw so much firewood collected together as in
these houses: on a fine framework spreading partly over the verandah
and partly over their rooms, many months’ supplies are piled even to
the roof;--of course it is a great advantage to have dry materials in
all weathers, and it is a provision against times of sickness or busy
harvest-work.
Last night there arrived overland the news I had previously given them
of the small-pox having broken out among the Kayans of Rejang, and
to-day it formed the subject of conversation. They were anxious to have
that medicine which the white men put into the arm, and which they were
told came from the belly of a snake.
Tamawan, who was on board this morning, was greatly pleased at
witnessing the musket exercise, and when he came on shore, went through
it again to the admiration of his followers.
As the Kayans believed some misfortune would happen to us if I went
anywhere but straight on board the ship, or if Siñgauding left his
house during the day, I remained quiet, and talked over affairs with
the Malays.
I find that, as among the Kanowits and other Dayaks, after the death of
a relative they go out head-hunting, but do not kill the first person
met; but each one they pass must make them a trifling present, which is
no 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 afternoon
with me. They say the origin of the Kayans coming to the Baram was
this: About twenty-five or thirty years ago, there were three powerful
chiefs living in the Balui country--as the interiors of the Rejang and
Bintulu rivers are called--Kum Nipa, Kum Laksa, and the father of my
brother Siñgauding; that Kum Laksa quarrelled with the last, and being
joined by Kum Nipa, a feud arose, in the course of which the father
of Siñgauding was killed. The relatives, to save the infant son, fled
to the Baram with all those who were well affected to the family: some
thousands came over, and singularly enough, they were well received by
the Kiniahs, the original inhabitants of the country. Though they are
said to speak distinct languages, they soon commenced intermarrying,
and are gradually becoming one people. I am inclined to think, from
their own remarks, that they must originally have come from the same
part of Borneo, and that the difference of language is not greater than
that which exists among the various branches of the Sea Dayaks. The
other inhabitants of the river are the Sububs, on the Tingjir, and the
numerous Murut slaves captured in their forays. Si-Matau, who danced so
vigorously this morning, was a Subub.
I tried, by the aid of the Malay traders, to draw up a vocabulary of
the language, but found that the ignorance of these men was too great
to enable me to make one entitled to any confidence. I noticed that
half their conversation with the natives was carried on in corrupt
Malay words, and these they gave me as true Kayan expressions.
Before the arrival of the Kayans, the trade to this river was merely
nominal; but they, knowing the value of the edible birds’-nests, soon
changed the face of matters, as they discovered caves plentifully
supplied with this article of Chinese luxury. Their houses are now
built in the neighbourhood of the resort of this wealth-creating bird.
Quite lately, however, they wantonly injured their own interests by
taking the nests five times a year, and never allowing the birds a
chance of hatching an egg; the consequence has been, that they are
seeking more secluded spots, and are reported to be resorting to the
numerous caves found in the mountain of Molu. The other articles
of trade are camphor, wax, gutta-percha, and, lately, a little
india-rubber.
They principally import gray shirtings and chintzes; the Malays, vying
with each other, took one year, it is said, 50,000 pieces, and allowed
the Kayans to have them on credit. Since then everything has gone
wrong--debts are not paid, quarrels arise, and the caves are ruined by
endeavouring to obtain the means of purchasing more articles.
In some respects, the Kayans differ in their customs from the other
aboriginal tribes of Borneo. At the birth of a chief’s child there
are great rejoicings; a feast is given, pigs, and fowls, and goats
being freely sacrificed. Jars of arrack are brought forward, and all
the neighbours are called upon to rejoice with their leader. They say
that on this occasion a name is given if the omen be good. A feather
is inserted up the child’s nostril, to tickle it; if it sneeze it
is 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 appear
to be dying in childbirth, are taken to the woods and placed in a
hastily-constructed hut; they are looked upon as interdicted, and none
but the meanest slaves may approach them, either to give them food or
to attend to them.
Marriages are celebrated with great pomp; many men have ruined
themselves by their extravagance on this occasion. Tamading, with
princely munificence, gave away or spent the whole of his property on
his wedding-day.
As among the Sea Dayaks, the young people have almost unrestrained
intercourse; but if the girl prove with child, a marriage immediately
takes place, the bridegroom making the richest presents he can to her
relatives. The men, even the greatest chief, take but one wife, and, it
is 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 by
Dalton[2] as existing among those he met on the Koti river; it was
disbelieved by many at the time, but it is undoubtedly true: the rich
men using gold, the poorer silver, bones of birds, and even hard
wood. The doctor of the _Semiramis_ steamer carefully examined
a great number of Kayans, and expressed his astonishment that no
injury resulted from this extraordinary practice. A German missionary
has accused the Southern Kayans of certain gross usages; but I heard
nothing 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; it
appeared like a mass of rough, twisted ropes, and is, I think, called
meteoric iron-stone. They use, also, two other kinds, of which I did
not obtain specimens. We found a little coal in the black shale on
which the town is built, and they spoke of golden pebbles, most likely
iron pyrites.
We had heavy rain every night; the current became stronger, and the
river rapidly rose.
We went next day to visit the caves whence they get the edible
birds’-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 some
who had not been accustomed to forest work, and they came arrayed in
uniform and patent leather boots, thinking there was a dry and open
road. Their surprise was great and not agreeable when they found muddy
ground and the bed of a mountain torrent had to be traversed. Our
guide struck into the stream directly, and our party broke up, some
following him, while others sought a dryer way. From the stream we
entered a thick wood of young trees; then again across the stream, up
the 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 little
streams, jumping from rock to rock, until after an hour’s hard work
we arrived at a little house on the top of a hill--the neatest little
house imaginable, walls and floor of well-trimmed planks, and roof of
bright red shingle; it was perfectly new, and was the residence of the
guardian of the cave.
I looked vainly about me for the entrance, and on asking, they pointed
to a deep gully, but I could see nothing but bushes and grass; but on
descending a short distance, I saw the bottom of the gully suddenly
divide, leaving a rocky chasm some thirty feet in depth. A slight
framework 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, very
inferior for this purpose to the torches used by the Land Dayaks in
Sarawak, and led the way. The cave gradually enlarged, but by the
imperfect light we could only distinguish masses of uneven rock on
either side. As we advanced towards those parts where the finest white
nests are found, the ground became covered many feet deep with the
guano of the swallow, which emitted scarcely any smell. We advanced
nearly two hundred yards without seeing a single nest, Siñgauding’s men
having 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. The
cave gradually became narrower and lower, but we continued our advance
till we were stopped by its termination in this direction. Our guides
observing our disappointment in not finding any nests, told us that
there were a few in another branch. So we retraced our steps till we
reached a passage on our left, and presently arrived at a spot where
we descended abruptly some twelve feet; it was pitch dark, as the
guide had gone rapidly ahead. On reaching the bottom, I put my foot
cautiously down, and could find nothing: the passage being very narrow
I was enabled to support myself with my hands on either side while
feeling with my feet for standing ground. There was none in front, but
on either edge there was just resting room for the foot; so this chasm
was passed in safety. I shouted out to my companions to take care, and
the guide returning, we examined what we had escaped: it was a black
hole, into which we threw stones, and calculating the number of seconds
they took in reaching the first obstruction, we found it about three
hundred feet deep. The stones bounded on the rocks below, and we could
hear 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 by
a massive pillar, which was in fact but a huge stalactite. From above
fell a continued shower of cold water, which doubtless was the cause of
those innumerable stalactites that adorned the roof.
We continued advancing for about seventy or eighty yards farther, the
cave getting narrower and narrower till two could not move abreast.
Except where the guano lay, the walking was difficult, as the rocks
were wet and excessively slippery, and open chasms were not rare. In
the farther end we were shown the places where the best nests were
obtained: the dryest portion of the sides of the cave are chosen by the
birds, and these appeared seldom to occur--I found but one inferior
nest remaining. Disturbed by our movements and by yesterday’s havoc,
the swallows were in great commotion, and flew round and round, and
darted so near our solitary light that we were in great fear for its
existence.
The natives say that in these caves there are two species of birds--the
one that builds the edible nest, and another that takes up its quarters
near the entrance, and disturbs, and even attacks the more valuable
tenants. The Kayans endeavour to destroy these, and while we were there
knocked down some nests constructed of moss, and adhering to the rock
by a glutinous but coarse substance. The fine edible one looks like
pure isinglass, with some amount of roughness on its surface. The best
I have seen are four inches round the upper edge, and appear like a
portion of a whitish cup stuck against a wall.
On examining the construction of the mountain, one’s first impression
is, that all these huge rocks were thrown in heaps together; but,
doubtless, water is the agent in forming these caves and the deep
fissures that penetrate to the water-line in these limestone mountains.
I believe the guides took us to the smallest cave, as I am sure, from
the produce of the district, that there must be many more better
adapted for the swallows, or else that they must be very numerous.
In fact, the guides told us that Siñgauding had several others, and
that Tamawan in right of his wife had the best. As they showed no
inclination to take us to the uncleared caves, we did not press them.
The person who is employed to guard this place is a singular-looking
old man; they say they captured him in the distant mountains during one
of their expeditions. He speaks a language unknown to them, but is now
learning a little Kayan; he looks very contented, and has certainly the
neatest house I have seen in Borneo for his dwelling.
On our return it rained a little, and we had, in many places, to sit
and slide down the slippery rocks; we all looked, on our return from
our expedition, in a very different condition from that in which we
started.
Siñgauding came in the afternoon to pay me a visit, and brought with
him Si Awang Lawi, the principal chief among the Kiniahs; he appeared a
frank old man. They stayed for some time with me talking over various
subjects connected with trade. He was very intelligent, and pressing
that I should go and visit his people; but it was beyond my power. He
told me, also, that a Kayan, one of a party of several hundred head
hunters, had returned half starved, and reported that he was the only
survivor. There was much mourning in the upper villages.
I may mention that these men have become so very conceited that
they consider themselves superior to all except ourselves; and, in
their pride, they have actually commenced killing the swallow, that
constitutes their wealth, saying it becomes a great chief to feed on
the most valuable things he possesses, regardless of the ultimate
consequences.
To-morrow being fixed for our departure, I have been requested to pay
Si Obong, Tamawan’s wife, a visit. I found her residing in a temporary
house, awaiting the completion of the great residence that was rising
rapidly, and whose progress we could watch from the ship.
Si Obong was seated on fine mats, and was surrounded by various
cushions. She had passed her first youth, and had become very stout;
in fact, her limbs were much too large for a woman. She wore little
clothing--a couple of English handkerchiefs, still in one piece, put
round her hips, hanging down, and tucked in at the side, and over her
bosom she occasionally threw a loose black cloth. Her face was round,
good-tempered, but rather coarse; her voice was gentle, and she wore
her long black hair hanging loose, but kept off her face by fillets of
white bark. The most curious part of her costume is what I must call a
hip-lace of beads, consisting of three strings, one of yellow beads;
the next of varied colours, more valuable; and the third of several
hundred of those much-prized ones by the Kayan ladies. It is difficult
to describe a bead so as to show its peculiarities. At my request, she
took off her hip-lace and handed it to me; the best appeared like a
body of black stone, with four other variegated ones let in around. It
was only in appearance that they were let in; the colours of these four
marks were a mixture of green, yellow, blue, and gray.
Were I to endeavour to estimate the price in produce she and her
parents had paid for this hip-lace, the amount would appear fabulous.
She showed me one for which they had given eleven pounds’ weight of the
finest birds’ nests, or, at the Singapore market price, thirty-five
pounds sterling. She had many of a value nearly equal, and she wore
none that had not cost her nine shillings.
She was the only daughter of a chief of the highest extraction, and
Tamawan owed the principal share of his influence, and perhaps all his
wealth, to her. The caves he possessed were hers, and she had been
won by the fame of his warlike expeditions and the number of heads
that were suspended around his house. There is no doubt that the Baram
Kayans are less desirous of heads than they were, and prefer slaves
who can cultivate their farms, and thus increase their fortune and
consideration.
Tamawan complained bitterly that his strength was leaving him, that
his body was becoming of no use, and that I must give him medicine to
restore him. I promised him a few tonics, at the same time pointed out
to him that he was suffering from rheumatism, caught whilst sleeping in
the jungle during his last expedition; recommended him to stay at home,
to wear more clothing, to drink less ardent spirit, and not indulge so
much in fat pork.
Si Obong offered me refreshments in the shape of arrack and preserved
fruit, but of neither did she herself partake. I noticed two of her
attendants, who were really pretty, being blessed with wellshaped noses
and mouths, a rarity among the natives of Borneo. They both sat silent
and did not exchange a word, but were ready to obey the slightest call
of their mistress.
Si Obong had her arms much tatooed, and she was also ornamented in that
manner 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 me
in what way she employed her time; among other things, she had made a
rattan seat, covered with fine bead-work, for her expected baby. When
the women go out, the child is placed in this, which is slung over the
back. The baskets around, which were filled with her clothes, were
also her handiwork, and were carefully made, and likewise ornamented
with innumerable small Venetian beads. There appeared no want of goods
here, as they were heaped in all directions; among other things I
noticed were an old English lamp, half-a-dozen tumblers, four bottles
of brandy, a brass kettle, and cooking pots.
After sitting there about a couple of hours, I took my leave and
returned on board; and then sent Si Obong what I thought would please
her, in the shape of a silver spoon, a silver fruit-knife, some gaudy
handkerchiefs, 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 they
were eager that I should spend my last evening with them; they carried
me off, and talking was kept up till a musket shot from the ship
gave notice that a few fireworks were about to be let off. The whole
assemblage of several hundreds hurried to the river’s bank, tumbling
over 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 their
enemies, and the latter because, they said, it turned night into day.
I stayed with them till ten, and promised, if possible, to return
and spend a few months with them. On no other condition was I to be
suffered to depart. They hinted that, united, we could soon possess the
neighbouring countries between us.
Siñgauding sent me, to-day, a sword made with his own hands, a war
dress of tiger-cat skin, a head-dress of the same material, with a long
feather of the Argus pheasant stuck into it. The peculiarity of the
Kayan 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 dangerous
instrument in the hands of the inexperienced; for if you cut down
on the left side of a tree with a right-handed sword, it will fly
off in the most eccentric manner; but, well used, it inflicts very
deep wounds, and will cut through young trees better than any other
instrument. I sent, as a return present, a heavy cavalry sword; in
fact, I was nearly exhausted of the means of making presents.
I may remark that their iron ore appears to be easily melted. They dig
a small pit in the ground; in the bottom are various holes, through
which are driven currents of air by very primitive bellows. Charcoal
is thrown in; then the ore, well broken up, is added and covered with
charcoal; fresh ore and fresh fuel, in alternate layers, till the
furnace is filled. A light is then put to the mass through a hole
below, 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 the
heavy rains, was running swiftly by; he was carried away in a moment,
but the Kayans were instantly after, and brought him back safe, though
half-choked with water.
At sunrise we started on our return. All the inhabitants of the town
assembled on the river’s bank to witness our departure. The steamer
turned with ease, and was swept with great speed down the stream. We
took a native trading vessel in tow, which assisted our steering, and
reached the mouth on the following day without the slightest accident.
I hear that the exclamations of the Kayans, when they first perceived
the steamer rounding the point, 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 public
good done, by a constant friendly surveillance over the aborigines.
Many of the Kayans returned my visit to Labuan, but I was absent; it
was not, however, material, as they were well treated by the colonial
officers.
Whilst in Baram I could hear nothing to confirm the account that any of
the Kayans were cannibals. We first heard the charge against them from
three Dayaks of the tribe of Sibaru, whose residence is on the Kapuas
River, in the district of Santang, under Dutch influence. I was present
when they were carefully questioned, and, though their information has
already 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 of
one of their enemies was secured. Their allies immediately sliced off
the flesh and put it away in their side baskets; and in the evening,
while all the party were preparing their supper, they brought out the
human flesh, and roasted and ate it. They saw it themselves. The Dayaks
of Jangkang, on the Skeium, between the districts of the Sarawak and
Dutch territories, are universally accused of cannibalism.
I do not remember having heard any other persons actually affirm
that they had seen the Kayans eat human flesh, till the subject was
brought up last year before the present Sultan of Borneo and his
court; when Usup, one of the young nobles present, said that in 1855
some 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 the
criminals, roasted and ate them. This was witnessed by himself and many
others who were then present. The Kayans had not, as a body, joined in
this disgusting feast; but, perhaps, some of the more ferocious may
practise it to strike terror into their enemies.
The account given by the Malays of the former system of trade pursued
by the Kayans is curious. They say that when a native merchant arrived
at the landing-place of a village, the chief settled the terms with
him, and all the goods were carried up to the houses, and placed in a
prepared 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 next
in rank in rotation, till all the villagers were satisfied. Three
months’ credit was always given, but at the appointed day the produce
in exchange was ready for the trader. I imagine the Malays would be
glad to return to the old system.
The Kayans were seldom very welcome guests at a small village, helping
themselves freely to everything that took their fancy; but this only
occurred, as a Malay shrewdly observed, in places where they were
feared.
[Illustration:
G M^c. Culloch, lith. Day & Son, Lith^{rs}. to the Queen
Published by Smith, Elder & C^o 65, Cornhill, London.
THE LAND DAYAKS.]