CHAPTER VIII.

THE MOUNTAIN OF KINA BALU.

FIRST EXPEDITION.

First Ascent by Mr. Low--Want of Shoes--Set Sail for the

Tampasuk--Beautiful Scenery--The Abai--Manufacture of Nipa

Salt--Uses of the Nipa Palm--A Lanun Chief--Baju Saddle--Baju

a Non-walker--Our ride to the Tampasuk--Gigantic Mango

Trees--The Datu’s House--Its Arrangements--The Datu and his

People--Piratical Expedition--A Bride put up to Auction--The

Bajus--Mixed Breeds--Quarrels with the Lanuns--Effect

of Stealing Ida’an Children--Fable of the Horse and his

Rider--Amount of Fighting Men--Freedom of the Women--Killing

the Fatted Calf--Beautiful Prospect--A new Gardinia--Pony

Travelling--Difficulty of procuring Useful Men--Start--An

Extensive Prospect--Cocoa-nuts and their Milk--A View of Kina

Balu--Granite Debris--Our Guides--Natives Ploughing--Our

Hut--Division of Land--Ginambur--Neatest Village-house in

the Country--Its Inhabitants--Tatooing--Curiosity--Blistered

Feet--Batong--Granite

Boulders--Fording--Fish-traps--Tambatuan--Robbing

a Hive--Search for the Youth-restoring Tree--Our

Motives--Appearance of the Summit of Kina Balu--A long

Story--Swimming the River--Koung--Palms not plentiful--Lanun

Cloth--Cotton--Nominal Wars--The Kiladi--Attempt to Levy

Black-mail at the Village of Labang Labang--Resistance--Reasons

for demanding it--Bamboo flat-roofed Huts--Ingenious

Contrivance--Kiau--Dirty Tribe--Recognition of Voice--A

Quarrel--Breaking the Barometer--Opposition to the Ascent of

Kina Balu--Harmless Demonstration--Thieves--Mr. Low unable

to Walk--Continue the Expedition alone--Cascade--Prayers

to the Spirit of the Mountain--Flowers and

Plants--Beautiful Rhododendrons--Cave--Unskilful Use

of the Blow-pipe--Cold--Ascent to the Summit--Granite

Face--Low’s Gully--Noble Terrace--Southern Peak--Effect of

the Air--The Craggy Summit--Distant Mountain--Dangerous

Slopes--Ghostly Inhabitants--Mist--Superstitions--Collecting

Plants--Descent--Noble Landscape--Difficult

Path--Exhaustion--Mr. Low not Recovered--Disagreeable

Villagers--Recovering the Brass Wire--Clothing--Distrust--A

lively Scene--Our Men behave well--Return on Rails to the Datu’s

House.

[Illustration]

To ascend Kina Balu had been an ambition of mine, even before I ever

saw Borneo. To have been, the first to do it would have increased the

excitement and the pleasure. However, this satisfaction was not for

me. Mr. Low, colonial treasurer of Labuan, had long meditated the same

scheme, and in 1851 made the attempt. It was thought at the time but

little likely to succeed, as the people and the country were entirely

unknown; but by determined perseverance Mr. Low reached what may fairly

be entitled the summit, though he did not attempt to climb any of the

rugged peaks, rising a few hundred feet higher than the spot where he

left a bottle with an inscription in it.

In 1856, Mr. Lobb, a naturalist, reached the foot of the mountain, but

was not allowed by the natives to ascend it.

In 1858, Mr. Low and I determined to make another attempt; and early

in April I went over from Brunei to Labuan to join him. We waited till

the 15th for a vessel, which we expected would bring us a supply of

shoes, but as it did not arrive we started. This was the cause of most

of our mishaps,--as a traveller can make no greater mistake than being

careless of his feet, particularly in Borneo, where all long journeys

must be performed on foot.

In 1851, Mr. Low had gone by the Tawaran, but the Datu of Tampasuk,

who was on a trading voyage to Labuan, having assured us that it was

easier to get to the mountain from his river, we determined to try

that route. He started before us, and on April 15th we followed,

in a pinnace, obligingly lent us by Dr. Coulthard, of the Eastern

Archipelago Company, our party being very large for the conveyance--Mr.

Low and myself, two servants, six crew, and seventeen followers. During

the night we passed Pulo Tiga, and were off Papar in the morning. We

sailed along as beautiful a coast as can be conceived: ranges of hills

rising one beyond the other, some grass-covered, others still clothed

in forest, with soft valleys and lovely bays, and here and there

patches of bright sandy beach, with Kina Balu towering in majestic

grandeur as a background. In fact, the prospect increased in beauty

until, on the evening of the 17th, we reached Abai, where we found the

Datu of Tampasuk in his prahu. The little bay at the entrance of the

Abai affords shelter from all winds except the N.W.; the bar, however,

having only a fathom at low water prevents any but small craft from

entering the river. On the sandy point of the grassy plain, at the west

side of the entrance, is a small well where boats may water. The Datu

came off and agreed to go up the Abai with us, and send his own boat

round by sea to Tampasuk.

Started at four A.M., but made very slow progress, the wind

blowing down the river, and the flood-tide not being strong. However,

by towing and warping, we managed to reach our anchorage about ten

P.M. The banks near the entrance appear to be high, but it was

almost dark as we passed them; then narrow mangrove swamps fringed the

shores with occasionally grassy hills in the background. On the left

bank there are two small branches, Gading and Paka Paka, inhabited,

the Datu said, by some villages of Ida’an. There appear to be but few

people living on this river, or rather salt-water creek. Three very

small hamlets, containing altogether about thirty houses, were all I

saw. There are numerous sheds for making salt, which appears to be

the principal industry of the Bajus. The manufacture is conducted as

follows:--Great heaps of the roots of the nipa palm, that always grows

in salt or brackish water, are collected and burnt; the residue is

swept up and thrown into half-filled pans, where the ashes and small

particles of wood are separated, and the water boiled;--a coarse,

bitter salt is the result. It is not disagreeable after a little use,

and I much prefer it to the common article brought from Siam, and

generally sold in these countries. The natives of the north seldom

use the imported salt, except for preserving fish; whereas, towards

Sarawak, the Siamese is rapidly taking the place of that procured from

the nipa palms.

The nipa palm is indeed a blessing to the natives; as we have seen,

they make a salt from the ashes of the root; they extract a coarse

sugar from the stem; they cover in their houses with the leaf; from

the last also they manufacture the mat called kejang, with which they

form the walls of their houses, and the best awning in the world for

boats, perfectly water-tight, and well adapted to keep out the rays

of the sun. Their cigars are rolled up in the fine inner leaf; and a

native could doubtless tell of a dozen other uses to which it is put.

In ascending rivers there is nearly always deep water near the nipa,

but shallow near the mangrove.

The Abai creek has generally more than two fathoms from the mouth to

the hamlets, but never less. We anchored opposite a Lanun chief’s

house, which, though on the left bank, is still towards Tampasuk, as

the river, after proceeding in a southerly direction, suddenly turns to

the north-east.

The Rajah Muda, the Lanun chief, came on board, and was very civil. He

is a handsome-looking, manly fellow, and extremely polite. From what I

have heard and seen, he is a type of his countrymen--a different race

from the Baju: a slight figure, more regular features than the Malays,

a quiet, observant eye; he wore a delicate moustache. He is the son of

the late Pañgeran Mahomed, of Pandasan, whose grave, ornamented with

seven-fold umbrellas, we passed on the river’s bank.

Knowing that we could ride from Abai to Tampasuk, we had brought our

English saddles, and were soon mounted on indifferent ponies, making

our way towards the Datu’s house in an easterly direction. The Baju

saddle, made of wood, covered with thin cloth, is very small. Instead

of stirrups they have a rope with a loop in the end, into which they

insert their big toe, and ride with the soles of their feet turned up

behind; and when they set off on a gallop they cling with their toes

under the pony’s belly.

The Baju is essentially a non-walker. He never makes use of his own

legs if he can possibly get an animal to carry him. He rides all the

horses and the mares, even when the latter have but just foaled. Cows

are equally in requisition, and it was laughable to observe one of

these animals with a couple of lads on her back trotting along the

pathways, a calf, not a week old, frisking behind her. The water

buffalo, however, appeared to be the favourite--the strong beast

constantly carrying double. Every man we met had a spear, which was

extremely useful in fording rivers, as well as for defence.

We rode at first over a small plain, about two miles in extent, half

of which we had to traverse: it was bounded on either side by a low

sandstone range, and before us was a connecting ridge, which we had

to cross before entering the Tampasuk district. From its top, we had

a view of the country: beneath us was a plain, extending some miles

beyond the river; not very pleasant riding, as every here and there a

slushy, muddy stream crossed the path, into which our ponies sunk up to

their girths, and found some difficulty in floundering through. There

were signs that cultivation is occasionally carried on here, and I

should imagine it well adapted for rice fields. As it happened to be a

very warm day, we were not sorry, after a ride of two miles and a half,

to reach the river’s bank, where we found a most agreeable shade under

gigantic mango trees. I call them gigantic--they were for this country,

being above two feet in diameter, and probably sixty feet high.

Unfortunately, it was not the fruit season. Very few mangoes in Borneo

are worth eating. Occasionally we find them with delicate flavour; but

nothing to equal the magnificent fruit of Bombay. I was anxious to

taste the produce of these trees, as from former intercourse with the

Spaniards the natives might have obtained seeds from Manilla, where the

fruit arrives at great perfection. A half mile of shady ride brought us

to the ford opposite to the Datu’s house, where we found the Tampasuk,

a hundred yards wide, but not more than three feet deep--clear, cool,

and rapid.

After enjoying a pleasant bathe, we strolled on for a hundred yards

to the Datu’s house, which is really a good and comfortable one, and

we were agreeably surprised at the excellent accommodation. It is

double-storied, with plank walls. The lower part of the house consisted

of one great room, surrounded by broad verandahs; the end ones being

partially partitioned off. In one of these we were lodged, and found

all the ladies of the family engaged in preparing our apartment and

covering the floor with nice clean mats of brilliant colours, which,

with our own bedding, soon made us comfortable. The great room,

or hall, was the chief’s, in the centre of which was an immense

resting-place or bed, and behind were heaps of boxes, containing the

wealth of the family, piled as I had seen done in Sulu. The upper story

appears to be reserved for the daughters and other unmarried girls,

who, as their floor was only of split bamboo, could look through and

watch all our movements; and the occasional light laughter showed that

we afforded them some amusement.

The Datu of Tampasuk is considered the head of the Bajus in these

districts, but his power is more nominal than real. The race is,

individually, very independent, and no one appears ready to obey

authority; and the same character may be given to their neighbours,

the Lanuns and Ida’an. Mengkabong and Tampasuk are their chief ports,

though they are scattered in many other districts, both on this and the

north-eastern coast. They were formerly very piratical, and even now

are unwilling to let a favourable opportunity pass. Their lawlessness

is proverbial: one instance will suffice. A large party went on an

expedition to the island of Banguey, where they anchored opposite a

village, and commenced trading, being, they said, particularly anxious

for tripang, or edible sea-slug. The fishermen dispersed in quest of

this article, but had no sooner gone than the crews of the prahus

landed, surprised the village, killed or drove away the few men that

remained, and captured about twenty-eight women and children. This

little incident was much talked of at the time, as they managed to

seize a young bride, just decked out for a wedding, loaded with all the

gold ornaments of the village. This young girl, contrary to their usual

custom, was, it is said, put up to auction by her captors, as she was

too valuable to be one man’s share. Yet both the people of Banguey and

Mengkabong are claimed by the Brunei Government as their subjects. I

have little doubt that, on hearing of this affair, the only reflection

of the ministers was--“We wish those Mengkabong people were nearer,

that we might have a share of the plunder.”

When not engaged in sea expeditions, the Bajus employ themselves in

a peddling trade with the aborigines, exchanging nipa salt, with a

little iron and cloth, for tobacco and rice; the former they sell to

the Malays. I must not omit to notice that the Bajus are very expert

fishermen, and catch and salt a great quantity every year, which they

sell to the inhabitants of the hills. Some few have gardens, and

plant rice, and, in a lazy, careless way, rear cattle, ponies, and

buffaloes. They profess Islamism, but do not probably understand much

beyond the outward observances, though they keep the fast with greater

strictness than most of the Malays. No one can accuse the Bajus of

being a handsome race; they have generally pinched-up, small faces, low

foreheads, but bright eyes; the men are short, slight, but very active,

particularly in the water; the women have similar features, and are

slighter and perhaps taller than the Malay; they wear their hair tied

in a knot on the fore part of the head, which has a very unbecoming

appearance. I never saw a good-looking face among them, judging even by

a Malay standard. The Datu had five daughters, as well as five sons--a

large family, but a thing by no means rare in Borneo.

We saw many men that differed totally from the above description, but,

on inquiry, found they were of mixed breed. I asked one of what race

he was. He answered four--Baju, Lanun, Malay, and Chinese. He was a

broad-faced, ugly-looking fellow, one of our guides. Another, rather

good-looking, claimed to be descended of four races also--Baju, Sulu,

Lanun, and Malay. Almost all those we asked were of mixed parentage,

which renders it difficult to describe a particular tribe; yet the Baju

is a distinct animal from the Malay, and does credit to his name of Sea

Gipsy, as he has quite the appearance of that wandering tribe.

We heard much of their differences with the Lanuns, who occupy the

mouth of the Tampasuk, and were formerly very powerful on this coast;

their own oppressive conduct turned the people of the interior against

them, and at Tawaran they were driven out. They were accused of

stealing the children of the Ida’an. I say driven out--I should rather

have said, teazed out. No people in this country can cope with them

in battle; so the Ida’an kept hovering around the Lanun villages to

cut off stragglers. At last, no one could leave the houses even to

fetch firewood, unless accompanied by a strong armed party, which

interfered so much with their piratical pursuits that they at last

abandoned the country, and retired to Tampasuk and Pandasan. Here

they were in 1845 attacked by Sir Thomas Cochrane, and their villages

burnt. This again broke up their communities, and most of those who

were addicted to piracy retired to the north-east coast, to Tungku and

the neighbouring rivers. Since then they have gradually so dwindled

away in these countries, that now, it is said, they scarcely muster two

hundred fighting men. Even these are under various chiefs, who delight

in giving themselves high-sounding names, as Sultan, Rajah, Rajah-Muda;

though, perhaps, scarcely able to man a war prahu with their followers.

The present cause of quarrel between the Lanuns and Bajus is theft,

mutual reprisals ending in the death of one of the latter. The Datu

talked of nothing but war; he said he had been advised by the Spanish

missionary, Signor Cuateron, to apply to the Spaniards at Balabak to

assist him in expelling the Lanuns, and that he was determined to do

so. I related to him the fable of the horse and his rider, and left him

to find out its application. His ready laugh told he had caught the

meaning. The Datu said he could muster 600 fighting men in Abai and

Tampasuk, and that the Lanuns have but 150. At Pandasan the Lanuns have

but forty men to oppose to 400 Bajus. Still, the latter have no stomach

for the fight. I doubt if they give very correct information about the

numbers at Pandasan, as in 1851 they were very much more numerous; in

fact, several hundreds were then seen around the houses of the chiefs.

They themselves said that comparatively few lived on the Tampasuk. Mr.

Low ascended the Pandasan and found a village under Panquan Mahomed,

whose grave we saw on the Abai; and, farther up this shoal and narrow

river, he came to the village of Asam, the residence of Pañgeran Merta

and other chiefs. Beyond that, on the tongue of land caused by the

river dividing, was the village of Sultan Si Tabuk. About twenty-five

miles to the north of Pandasan are the small rivers of Kanio Kanio and

Layer Layer, also inhabited by Lanuns. They are very fond of boasting

of their courage, and say, if the Europeans would but meet them sword

in hand, they would fight them man to man.

I may notice that the Lanuns, Bajus, and Sulus do not shut up their

women in the same manner as is practised by the Malays of the capital

and most other Mahomedans; on the contrary, they often sit with the

men, and enter freely into the subject under discussion. I should

like to be able to ascertain whether this comparative freedom renders

them more chaste than the Malay women; they could not well be less

so. In Sulu, the wives of the chiefs are entrusted with the principal

management of the accounts, and carry on much of the trade; it is

said that they have acquired considerable knowledge from the Manilla

captives, who are often of a superior class.

We stayed a day at the Datu’s house, waiting the arrival of our

baggage, for which we had despatched buffaloes. The chief, to show

his hospitality, determined to kill a fatted calf to feast us and our

followers. The endeavours, first to catch a cow, then a calf, were

very amusing. The beasts were particularly active, half-wild things;

and the Bajus gave chase on horseback, galloping boldly over the rough

ground, and through the long grass. We expected every moment to see man

and horse roll over, but by dint of hard chasing, at last a half-grown

heifer was driven into the enclosure; man, horse, and game being

equally blown.

In the afternoon we rode over towards Pandasan, in search of plants;

from the summit of the first low hill we had a beautiful view of the

lovely plain of Tampasuk, extending from the sea far into the interior.

Groves of cocoa-nuts were interspersed among the rice grounds, which

extended, intermixed with grassy fields, to the sea-shore, bounded

by a long line of casuarinas. Little hamlets lay scattered in all

directions, some distinctly visible, others nearly hidden by the rich

green foliage of the fruit-trees. The prospect was bounded on the west

by low sandstone hills, whose red colour occasionally showed through

the lately-burnt grass, affording a varied tint in the otherwise

verdant prospect; to the south, Kina Balu and its attendant ranges were

hidden by clouds.

Riding on over the undulating ground, we entered a plain that lies

between the districts of Tampasuk and Pandasan; it looked parched, and

was in no way to be compared to the one we had left: clouds of smoke

from the burning grass occasionally obscured the prospect. Here Mr. Low

found a beautiful gardinia, growing on slight elevations, on barren,

decomposing rock, and plentiful wherever the land was undulating. It

seemed to flourish in positions exposed to the hottest rays of the

sun, and in situations where the reflected heat was also very great.

It was a bush, varying from a few inches to two feet in height, and

bore flowers of a pure white. We observed some of the shrubs not six

inches in height, which were covered with blossoms, yielding a powerful

aromatic odour. In fact, as we rode among them, the whole air appeared

filled with their fragrance. I imagine the dwarfing of the plants

resulted from the inferior nature of the soil, and the great heat which

kept the moisture from their roots. The high range that separates these

districts from Maludu Bay does not appear to be very far off; in fact,

it is but two days’ journey on horseback, which, in the mountains,

would not be much faster than walking, since the paths are very bad.

We galloped home, the natives evidently amused by our novel style of

sitting a horse. Our ride had been in a north-easterly direction.

On our arrival at the Datu’s house, we found all our followers

assembled, and the baggage in heaps near our beds. We therefore made

preparations for starting in the morning. On dividing our luggage,

however, it appeared that we should require at least a dozen Bajus to

assist; these had been promised, but were not forthcoming. Guides to

carry nothing were easily procurable; but it being the month of the

Ramadhan was an excuse for any amount of laziness.

When we started next morning, the Datu came with us a few miles and

helped us with some of his men; so that, having packed up, we were

enabled to leave about nine A.M. Our route lay through lowland

for about a mile and a half, crossing the river once. We stopped at a

village situated on and about a low hill. By the way, we saw a herd

of fine cattle, both white and piebald--an unusual colour in Borneo;

they were in a very flourishing condition, and I endeavoured in vain

to make arrangements to transport the whole lot to my grounds near the

Consulate. We stayed at a house occupied by Rajah Ali, a Baju, for

about an hour, trying to get men to take the place of the Datu’s, who

had helped us so far, but could not tempt really useful men. We had

already four guides, and might have had as many more as we pleased, but

porters were not to be procured.

The house where we rested was on top of a little hill, commanding a

very extensive prospect: at the foot the river divided into two, one

branch stretching away towards the E.S.E., whose course we could trace

for eight or ten miles; it then appears to take a southerly direction,

towards Kina Balu, from which the natives say it issues: the right-hand

branch bore S. by E., and this is visible for several miles--perhaps

eight; it then appears to turn more easterly. Near the banks the ground

is generally flat, while towards the west the hills are numerous.

Finding it impossible to get men enough to carry all our things,

we resolved to push on with those we had, and then send back for

the remainder. Our impedimenta were numerous, as we had boxes for

specimens, planks with quires of brown paper, besides the cloths and

brass wire required to purchase provisions. Every man also was provided

with a musket.

Our course lay at first over hills with soil of a reddish colour, but

a couple of miles brought us to the low land bordering the river. Here

we brought up under a clump of cocoa-nut palms, to allow our straggling

party to collect, and having obtained permission, our men soon secured

a supply of the fruit. I have no doubt that many travellers in tropical

countries will agree with me, that nothing is more refreshing after

a walk in a broiling sun (and it was indeed broiling to-day) than a

draught of cocoa-nut-milk, duly tempered with a dash of wine or brandy.

For some time I preferred a glass of sherry or madeira, now I incline

to a tablespoonful of brandy, as forming the most agreeable and healthy

compound. I have seen to-day a great many clumps of cocoa-nut-trees

very unhealthy. I think they must be injured by the constant drain to

which they are subjected by the aborigines in extracting toddy from

them. These trees belonged to the Piasau Ida’an, whose villages were

scattered in every direction. Piasau is the word used by the Borneans

of the capital for cocoa-nut.

While reclining under the shade of these palm-trees, we had a beautiful

view of the country beyond. The Tampasuk flowed past us, bubbling and

breaking over its uneven bed; here shallower, and therefore broader,

than usual. To the left the country was open, almost to the base of

the great mountain; to the right the land was more hilly, and Saduk

Saduk showed itself as a high peak, but dwarfed by its neighbourhood to

Kina Balu, whose rocky precipices looked now of a purple colour. The

summit was beautiful and clear, and I remained in earnest study of its

features till aroused by an exclamation of my companion, who, pointing

to a remarkable indentation surmounting an apparently huge fissure in

gloomy shade, said, “I am sure that is the spot where I left a bottle

in 1851.” With the aid of a telescope we could distinctly note the

position of every crag, and I determined, if possible, we would visit

that fissure, and see if the bottle still remained. Kina Balu looked

more grand to-day than ever as there were no hills between us to mar

its noble proportions. I made a sketch of the crags on the summit in

order to recognize them again, if we should be sufficiently fortunate

to reach them.

Having collected our party, now amounting to about thirty, we moved

on. Our path lay near the river, which we had to ford eight times,

and where the stream was rapid, the operation proved very fatiguing.

Between the reaches our path ran over granite _débris_ of the

size of coarse sand; it was so hot that it felt painful through our

shoes, and those who were barefoot danced along over it as if they were

on burning stones:--it was trying walking. We fully intended to have

reached Ginambur, but having had so many detentions, we found that

at 4 P.M. it was still several miles off; it was useless,

therefore, to expect to reach it, particularly as our men, unaccustomed

to walking, were greatly fatigued. We determined, therefore, to put up

at the farm-houses of the Buñgol Ida’an, which were built conveniently

on the banks of the river. It had been threatening rain, which came on

before the evening closed in. Our general direction all day had been a

little to the east of south.

The Datu of Tampasuk had promised to accompany us himself, but the fast

gave him an excellent excuse; he, however, sent some men as guides,

whom he called his relations. These men of course came with us,

fancying that by trading for us with the Ida’an they would be enabled

to make a great profit beyond the regular pay. They did not fail to let

us know their intentions, by telling us that the Ida’an were asking

half a dollar’s worth of goods for a fowl; so we declined taking it,

telling the Bajus that we were well aware that they themselves could

get a dozen for the same amount. We expected and intended to let them

fleece us moderately, but this was too barefaced. We had tin meats,--so

managed to make an excellent dinner without the fowl. Such provisions

are certainly of great assistance to the traveller, but the addition

of a fowl, or of any fresh vegetable, takes away that unpleasant taste

always observable in preserved meats.

It was here I first saw natives ploughing. Their plough is of a very

simple construction, and serves rather to scratch the ground than

really to turn it over: it is made entirely of wood, and is drawn by

a buffalo, and its action was the same as if a pointed stick had been

dragged through the land to the depth of about four inches. After

ploughing, they use a rough kind of harrow. Simple as this agriculture

is, it is superior to anything that exists south of Brunei, and it

would be interesting to investigate the causes that have rendered

this small part of Borneo, between the capital and Maludu Bay, so

superior in agriculture to the rest. I think it is obviously a remnant

of Chinese civilization. I must elsewhere dwell upon the Chinese

intercourse, as it is too extensive a subject to be introduced into a

journal while waiting for the cook to get the dinner ready. The farm

hut in which we spent the night was about twelve feet by six, and of

exceedingly neat construction: the bamboo was employed for posts, and

split afforded both good flooring and walls; the roofing leaves were

also excellent, and made from the sago palm. The musquitoes were very

numerous, and soon drove us to bed: the natives assert that these

insects are not to be found near running fresh water--a statement which

experience completely disproves.

The farmhouse we occupied was one of many scattered over a narrow

plain, perhaps four or five hundred yards in breadth, which skirted the

banks of the river for several miles. It was evident that these Ida’an

kept this land under continued cultivation, and that each portion was

strictly private property. We found every house had about four acres of

ground belonging to its owner, which were divided from one another by

slight embankments. The soil appeared of admirable quality--in fact,

a rich black mould. Heaps of panicles were lying near the houses, and

the amount seemed to show that they must have had a very good crop last

year.

Having induced three Buñgol Ida’an to start with buffaloes to fetch

the baggage that was left at Rajah Ali’s house, we moved on a little

before ten for Ginambur, intending to await their arrival there. Our

path lay along the left bank, over low ground covered with long grass

and brushwood, which prevented our obtaining other than glimpses of

the mountain, but at a rapid we had a good view. The Baju guides

gave these Ida’an the character of great thieves, and requested us

to have everything carefully put away at night, affirming that these

inhabitants of the plain were of a different character from those

on the hills. It may be so, but we have never found the aborigines

inclined to pilfer; on the contrary, they are remarkably honest; and

should these prove to be of a different disposition, it will be an

unique instance. Here as at Buñgol we could not purchase fowls except

at absurd rates, which we declined. It is curious that these people

show no hospitality--never offering us a single thing; but, instead,

trying to overreach us in every transaction.

The house in which we lodged was the best I have ever seen among the

aborigines: it was boarded with finely-worked planks; the doors were

strong and excellently made, with a small opening for the dogs to go

in and out; everything looked clean--quite an unusual peculiarity.

The flooring of beaten-out bamboos was very neat, and free from all

dirt, which I have never before noticed in a Dayak house, where the

dogs generally render everything filthy. As this was the cleanest, so

I think my friend the Bisayan chief’s house on the Limbang was the

dirtiest--to describe its abominations would turn the reader’s stomach.

These Ida’an are very good specimens of the interior

people--clear-skinned, free from disease, with pleasant, good-humoured

countenances. None of the women are good-looking; still, they would not

be called ugly. We noticed two peculiarities: that all the girls and

young women wore a piece of black cloth to conceal their bosoms, which

was held in its place by strips of coloured rattans; their petticoats

were larger than usual, a practice that might have been followed with

advantage by their elders. The second was that the young girls had the

front of the head shaved, after the manner of the Chinese.

I have not noticed that any of the men are tattooed, but during our

walk to-day we met many large parties of Ida’an loaded with tobacco,

who were on their way to Tampasuk to trade, among whom there were

some ornamented in this fashion:--A tattooed band two inches broad,

stretched in an arc from each shoulder, meeting on the stomach, then

turning off to the hips; others had likewise a band extending from the

shoulders to the hands. They were all small, slight men, and armed with

spears and swords.

As we were the first Europeans who had ever penetrated so far into the

country, we excited great curiosity, particularly among the female

portion of the tribe: every action was watched and commented upon,

though I am bound to state that my little China boy, Ahtan, with his

long tail, excited equal surprise; and when the black Madras cook

commenced operations, we were totally abandoned, and a most attentive

crowd collected round him, watching his every motion. As he proceeded

to prepare the curry and the stew, the pressure became too great for

his patience, so that he ran out declaring he could not cook the

dinner. The crowd then drew back a little, but his actions did not

escape the most attentive inspection. We were told that there was

another extensive village of their people on the slope of the hills,

embowered in groves of fruit-trees. It is a great advantage to live

on the banks of a running stream, as all the population can keep

themselves clean by frequent bathing. Another great preventive to

disease is their having sufficient food: they appear well off, with

plenty of buffaloes and cattle--a contrast, indeed, to their miserable

brethren on the Limbang.

We soon began to find the effect of starting without proper shoes:

yesterday my boots had blistered one heel so much that I determined to

walk barefooted. Mr. Low’s feet became likewise so painful that he made

up his mind to follow my example.

Our baggage did not arrive till the morning; we were then detained to

procure men to carry it. At last Suñgat, the chief, agreed to follow

us with six of the villagers. We started about eleven. Our course lay

along the banks of the river, cutting off the points, and occasionally

in the bed of the old stream. It having rained on the night previous,

the river was somewhat swollen, which prevented either ourselves or

our men fording it without Baju assistance; this rendered our progress

slow. Mr. Low having never before walked without shoes, suffered

much in passing over the pebbles, which were heated by the bright

midday sun, and I also, though more used to it, felt it very much

occasionally: in four hours we did not make more than three miles.

Having passed a very deep ford at 2.45 P.M., we agreed to stop

for the night, and pitched our tents on the banks of the river on some

dry sand, to have the benefit of the cool water that flowed by. We

might have gone to the Ida’an houses, but preferred the independence

of our own tents, both as more cool and less crowded; besides, we were

there free from the suspicion of insects. The fords we passed during

the day were composed of black sand, with small blocks of granite and

serpentine mixed with sandstone.

The name of this place was Batong: from it Kina Balu bore S.E., and

Saduk Saduk 15° east of south; the latter appears from this view to

be a peaked mountain between 5,000 and 6,000 feet high. Kina Balu of

course absorbed our attention: at night, as the sun shone brightly

on its peaks, it wore a very smiling appearance. The summit seemed

free from all vegetation, and streams of water were dashing over the

precipices.

Started next morning at a quarter to eight, and soon arrived at a

place where the river divided, the Penantaran coming from an E.N.E.

direction. Its bed was full of large blocks of serpentine (though after

passing the mouth of this branch we met with very few specimens of that

kind of rock). There is a village of the same name as the branch close

to the junction. We followed the right-hand branch--direction about

south--keeping close to the banks, crossing and recrossing continually,

seeing occasionally a few houses. We were now passing through sandstone

ranges, but the country had no remarkable features. At 9.40, stopped to

breakfast, having made about four miles; our followers gradually closed

up. At eleven we pushed on again. Huge granite boulders are now common,

and under the shelter of one mighty stone we rested for half an hour,

waiting the arrival of our straggling followers.

One of the greatest advantages of travelling with an intelligent

companion is the interchange of ideas, and consequently the more

accurate noting of observations. As we sat beneath the shade of the

huge granite boulder, surrounded on all sides by sandstone hills, we

could not but speculate how it came there. Without having recourse to

the glacier theory, the reason appeared to me simple. It is evident

that the level of the country was very much greater in former times

than at present, and that water is the great agent by which these

changes have been effected.

The streams continually cut their way deeper in the soil, as we may

daily observe: the increasing steepness causes innumerable landslips,

and the process going on for ages, the whole level of the country is

changed, and plains are formed from the detritus at the mouths of the

rivers. Huge granite masses, falling originally from the lofty summit

of Kina Balu, would gradually slip or roll down the ever-forming slopes

which nature is never weary of creating.

In ascending some of the steeps that rise on either side of the streams

near Kina Balu, we continually came across boulders of granite, which,

in comparatively few years, will, through landslips, roll many hundred

feet into the stream below, to commence their gradual movement from

the mountain. I have continually come across evidences of the Bornean

rivers having flowed at a much higher level than at present, finding

layers of water-worn pebbles, a hundred feet above the present surface

of the stream. In Borneo, where the rain falls so heavily, the power of

water is immense. After a heavy storm, the torrents rise in confined

spaces often fifty feet within a few hours, and the rush of the stream

would move any but the largest rocks, and wash away most of the effects

of the landslips.

Standing on a height overlooking a large extent of country, it is

instructive to be able to survey at a glance the great effect caused

by the rivers and all their tributaries, deep gullies marking every

spot where an accession joins the parent stream. After heavy rains, the

rivers present the colour of _café au lait_, from the large amount

of matter held in temporary suspension, and on taking out a glassful,

I have been surprised by the amount of sediment which has immediately

fallen to the bottom.

The walk was becoming rather tiring; drizzling rain rendering the

stones very slippery, and having continually to make the mountain

torrent our path, it was severe work for our bare feet. The rain

continuing, and the stream rapidly rising, we halted at some

farm-houses in the midst of a long rice-field. Fording the river is

difficult work; the water rushing down at headlong speed, renders it

necessary to exert one’s utmost strength to avoid being carried away:

the pole in both hands, placed well to seaward, one foot advanced

cautiously before the other, to avoid the slippery rocks and loose

stones. I found that this fatigued me more than the walking. The

water became much cooler as we approached the mountain, while the

land is rapidly increasing in elevation. The river was full of Ida’an

fish-traps, made by damming up half the stream, and forcing the water

and fish to pass into a huge bamboo basket. They appeared to require

much labour in the construction, particularly in the loose stone walls

or dams. As we advanced, we found the whole stream turned into one of

these traps, in which they captured very fine fish, particularly after

heavy rain. I bought one with large scales, about eighteen inches

long, which was of a delicious flavour.

To see the young Ida’an ford the stream, raised both my envy and my

admiration; with the surging waters reaching to their armpits, with a

half-dancing motion, they crossed as if it were no exertion at all. So

much for practice. During the last three hours we did not make more

than four miles, though out of the stream the paths were good. The rain

continuing to pour heavily, we determined to stop, as I have said, at

these Ida’an huts, which were situated opposite the landing-place of

the village of Tambatuan, concealed by the brow of a steep hill rising

on the other bank. We sent a party there to buy rice, which became

cheaper as we advanced: these villages also possessed abundance of

cattle and buffaloes. We were much pleased to find the great confidence

shown by the people; we often met parties of women and girls, and on no

occasion did they run away screaming at the unusual sight of a white

face. Several of them came this afternoon to look at us, and remained

quite near for some time, interested in watching our proceedings. Kina

Balu was cloud-hidden this evening.

During the night our rest was much disturbed by bees, who stung us

several times, and Mr. Low, with that acuteness which never deserts him

in all questions of natural history, pronounced them to be the “tame”

bees, the same as he had last seen thirteen years ago among the Senah

Dayaks in Sarawak. About midnight we were visited by a big fellow, who,

our guides assured us, wanted to pilfer; but we found next morning that

he had come to complain of his hives having been plundered. On inquiry,

we discovered the man who had done the deed. He was fined three times

the value of the damage, and the amount handed over to the owner.

A great many questions were asked as to what could be our object in

visiting Kina Balu: to tell them that it was for curiosity would

have been useless: to say that we were seeking new kinds of ferns,

pitcher-plants, or flowers, would not have been much more satisfactory

to them. Some thought we were searching for copper or for gold, while

others were equally convinced we were looking for precious stones. One

man sagaciously observed that we were seeking the _Lagundi_ tree,

whose fruit, if eaten, would restore our youth and enable us to live

for countless years, and that tree was to be found on the very summit

of Kina Balu. To-day an Ida’an came, I suppose to try us, and said he

knew of copper not more than half a day’s journey from our path, and

offered to take us to it; seeing we were not to be tempted, another

told us of a tree of copper that was to be found a few miles off; but

even that did not alter our determination to make the best of our way

to the mountain. We left the questioners sadly puzzled as to what

possibly could be our object in ascending Kina Balu.

All the Bajus and Borneans are convinced that there is a lake on the

very summit of this mountain, and ask, if it be not so, how is it

that continual streams of water flow down its sides. They forget that

very few nights pass without there being rain among the lofty crags,

even when it is dry on the plains. Sometimes the sun, shining on

particular portions of the granite, gives it an appearance of great

brilliancy; and those who formerly ascended the summit with Mr. Low,

reported that whenever they approached the spot where these diamonds

showed themselves at a distance, they invariably disappeared: as these

men have a perfect faith in every wild imagination of the _Arabian

Nights_, they easily convinced themselves and their auditors that

the jinn would not permit them to take them. The old story of the great

diamond, guarded on the summit of Kina Balu by a ferocious dragon,

arose probably from some such cause. The Malays are great storytellers,

and these wonders interest them. I may notice that most of the men

that were with us accompanied us to the mountain of Molu the preceding

February, and then one of the Borneans commenced a story which lasted

the seventeen days we were away, and he occasionally went on with

it during our present journey. It was the history of an unfortunate

princess, who for “seven days and seven nights neither eat nor drank,

but only wept.”

Opposite our resting-place we observed some remarkably elegant tree

ferns, whose stems rose occasionally to the height of ten feet, and

with their long leaves bending gracefully on every side, they were an

ornament to the river’s bank. We noticed as yet but little old forest.

The only fine trees we saw were near the villages, and these were

preserved for their fruits. Where the land is not cultivated, it is

either covered with brushwood, or trees of a young growth.

Drizzling rain prevented our departure till near eight, when we

continued our course along the ricefields: we had been told we should

find the path very bad, but were agreeably surprised by it proving dry

and principally among plantations of kiladi. We crossed the river only

five times, and passed over a sandstone range about five hundred feet

above the plain: it was nearly three miles from our resting-place. The

stream had now become a perfect mountain torrent, breaking continually

over rocks.

Occasionally the fords were difficult, as the continued rains rendered

the river very full. At one place where an island divides the Tampasuk,

it was so deep that it was found necessary to swim over, and only a

very expert man could have done it, as the water rushed down with great

force. The Bajus, however, were quite prepared; they did not attempt

to cross the stream in a direct course, but allowed themselves to be

carried away a little, and reached the other side about fifty yards

farther down. They did it very cleverly, carrying all our luggage over,

little by little, swimming with one hand and holding the baskets in the

air with the other. As we could not swim, two men placed themselves,

one on either side of us, told us to throw ourselves flat on the water

and remain passive; in a few minutes we were comfortably landed on the

opposite bank, drenched to the skin, it is true, but we had scarcely

had any dry clothes on us during the whole journey; however, no sooner

did we arrive at our resting-places, than we stripped, bathed, rubbed

ourselves into a glow, and put on dry clothes. Nothing is so essential

as this precaution, and I have twice had severe attacks of fever from

neglecting it. The hills as we advanced began closing in on the river’s

banks, leaving occasionally but a narrow strip of flat ground near the

stream.

At 11.20 A.M. we reached Koung, a large, scattered village

on a grassy plain: it is a very pretty spot, the greensward extending

to the river’s banks, where the cattle and buffaloes graze: about a

hundred feet up the side of a neighbouring hill is another portion of

the village. The roaring torrent foams around, affording delicious

spots for bathing, the water being delightfully cool. In the bed

of the stream there were masses of angular granite, mixed with the

water-worn boulders. It was the first time we had ever seen it of that

sharp form, but similar blocks were afterwards noticed on the summit.

The wild raspberry is very plentiful here. One cannot help having

one’s attention continually drawn to the air of comfort, or, rather,

to the appearance of native wealth observed among the Ida’an: food

in abundance, with cattle, pigs, fowls, rice, and vegetables; and no

one near them to plunder or exact. Accustomed as I had been to the

aborigines around the capital, the contrast struck me forcibly.

Next day we hoped to reach Kiau, the village from which Mr. Low started

for the mountain in the spring of 1851. There was an apparent hitch

about getting from that place; but we thought perhaps the reports arose

from tribal jealousy. At four P.M., Koung: barometer, 28·678°;

thermometer, 77·5°; unattached, 78·3°. So that this village must be

about 1,500 feet above the level of the sea: a very rapid rise for the

stream in so short a distance. The sandstone hill we crossed to-day

had the same characteristics as those I had observed up the Sakarang,

Batang Lupar, and near the capital--all being very steep, with narrow

ridges, and buttresses occasionally springing from their sides: on the

one we crossed to-day was a quantity of red shale.

Near our last night’s resting-place, I noticed, for the first time on

this river, some sago palms; they have again shown themselves to-day,

and there are a few round the village, but neither these trees nor

cocoa-nut nor areca palms are plentiful. At every village I made

inquiries about cotton, and, like the men with tails, it was always

grown a little farther off; only we know cotton must be grown somewhere

in this neighbourhood, as at the very moment I was writing my journal

I saw an old woman engaged spinning yarn from native material. The

Lanuns also furnish a cloth which is highly prized among every class of

inhabitants in Borneo; it is a sort of checked black cloth, with narrow

lines of white running through it, and glazed on one size. This was

formerly made entirely of native yarn; but I am afraid this industry

will soon decline, as connoisseurs are already beginning to discover

that the Lanun women, finding English yarn so cheap, are using it in

preference, though it renders the article much less durable. It is also

worthy of notice that this cloth is dyed from indigo grown on the spot.

These Ida’an purchase their supplies of cotton of the Inserban and

Tuhan Ida’an who live on the road to the lake, while the Bajus obtain

theirs from the Lobas near Maludu Bay. I saw one plant growing near the

hut where we rested last night; it was about ten feet high, and covered

with flowers.

They told us at Koung that the Ida’an were at war; but though they may

have quarrels, they must be trifling, as we met every day women and

children by themselves at considerable distances from their houses.

Besides, parties of a dozen men and boys of the supposed enemies passed

us on their way to Tampasuk to trade, and in none of their villages did

we notice heads.

All these Ida’an appear to pay particular attention to the cultivation

of the Kiladi (arum), planting it in their fields immediately after

gathering in the rice crop, and keeping it well weeded: they grow it

everywhere, and it must afford them abundance of food. It is in shape

something like a beetroot, and has the flavour of a yam. Roasted in the

ashes, and brought smoking hot to table, torn open, and adding a little

butter, pepper, and salt, it is very palatable, particularly among

those hills.

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

village.

Started about seven in a S.E. by E. direction, ascending a hill on

which the village of Labang Labang is situated: here occurred a scene.

Mr. Low and I, with a few men, were walking ahead of the party; as we

passed the first house, an old woman came to the door, and uttered some

sentences which struck us as sounding like a curse: however, we took no

notice; but as we approached the end of the village, we were hailed by

an ugly-looking fellow, with an awful squint, who told us to stop, as

we should not pass through his village: this was evidently a prepared

scene, the whole of the population turning out, armed: so we did stop

to discuss the point. We asked what he meant: he answered that they had

never had good crops since Mr. Low ascended the mountain in 1851, and

gave many other sapient reasons why we should not ascend it now; but

he wound up by saying that if we would pay a slave as black mail, they

would give us permission to pass and do as we pleased: this showed us

that nothing but extortion was intended; yet, to avoid any disagreeable

discussion, we offered to make him a present of forty yards of grey

shirting; but this proposition was not listened to, and he and his

people became very insolent in their manner.

We sent back one of the men to hurry up the stragglers, and in the

meantime continued the discussion. They then said they would take

us up the mountain if we would start from their village; but being

unwilling to risk a disappointment, we declined. They remembered how

the Kiaus had turned back Mr. Lobb, because he would not submit to

their extortions, and thought they might do the same with us. As the

Ida’an were shaking their spears and giving other hostile signs, we

thought it time to bring this affair to a climax; so I ordered the men

to load their muskets, and Mr. Low, stepping up to the chief with his

five-barrelled pistol, told the interpreter to explain that we were

peaceable travellers, most unwilling to enter into any contest; that

we had obtained the permission of the Government of the country, and

that we were determined to proceed; that if they carried out their

threats of violence, he would shoot five with his revolver, and that

I was prepared to do the same with mine; that they might, by superior

numbers, overcome us at last, but in the meantime we would make a

desperate fight of it.

This closed the scene: as long as we had only half a dozen with us,

they were bullies; but as our forces began to arrive, and at last

amounted to fifty men, with twenty musket-barrels shining among them,

they became as gentle as lambs, and said they would take two pieces

of grey shirting; but we refused to give way, keeping to our original

offer, and then only if the chief would follow us on our return, and

receive it at Tampasuk. We ordered the men to advance, and we would

close up the rear: no opposition was offered; on the contrary, the

chief accompanied us on our road, and we had no more trouble with the

Labang Labang people. We were detained forty minutes by this affair.

Our guides explained the matter to us: when Mr. Low was here last time,

many reports were spread of the riches which the Kiaus had obtained

from the white man, and they were jealous that the other branch of

their tribe should obtain the wealth that was passing from them through

their village. The Koung people tried to persuade us last night to

start from their place, and as they were very civil we should have

liked to oblige them, but they were uncertain whether they could take

us to the summit. Mr. Lobb, when he reached Kiau, had but a small

party, and was unarmed, so they would not allow him to pass, except on

terms that were totally inadmissible.

Immediately after passing the village, we descended a steep and

slippery path to one of the torrents into which the Tampasuk now

divided. After crossing it, we were at the base of the spur on which

the village of Kiau is situated. We passed several purling streams

which descended, in a winding course, the face of the hill. From one

spot in our walk, we had a beautiful view of two valleys, cultivated

on both banks, with the foaming streams dashing among the rocks below.

Over the landscape were scattered huts, which had the peculiarity of

being flat-roofed: the Kiaus using the bamboo as the Chinese use their

tiles, split in two; the canes are arranged side by side across the

whole roof, with their concave sides upwards to catch the rain; then

a row placed convex to cover the edges of the others, and prevent the

water dropping through. They are quite water-tight, and afforded an

excellent hint for travellers where bamboos abound.

The latter portion of the road was difficult climbing, the clay

being slippery from last night’s rain; but as we approached our

resting-place, the walking became easier. Kiau is a large village on

the southern side of the spur. The houses scattered on its face are

prettily concealed from each other by clumps of cocoa-nuts and bamboos.

It covers a great extent of ground, but is badly placed, being more

than 800 feet above the torrent--that is, the portion of the village at

which we stayed. The eastern end was nearer the stream. The inhabitants

supplied themselves with drinking-water from small rills which were

led in bamboos to most of their doors. We brought up about eleven, our

course being generally E.S.E. Thermometer 73° at twelve in the house.

We felt it chilly, and took to warm clothing.

The Kiaus are much dirtier than any tribes I have seen in the

neighbourhood: the children and women are unwashed, and most of them

are troubled with colds, rendering them in every sense unpleasant

neighbours. In fact, to use the words of an experienced traveller,

“they cannot afford to be clean,” their climate is chilly, and they

have no suitable clothing. We observed that the features of many of

these people were very like Chinese--perhaps a trace of that ancient

kingdom of Celestials that tradition fixes to this neighbourhood. They

all showed the greatest and most childlike curiosity at everything

either we or our servants did.

In the afternoon, Lemaing, Mr. Low’s old guide, came in. Mr. Low

recognized his voice immediately, though seven years had passed since

he had heard it. Sir James Brooke has a most extraordinary faculty

of remembering voices, as well as names, even of natives whom he has

only seen once. It is very useful out here, and I have often found the

awkwardness which arises from my quickly forgetting both voices and

names.

Shortly after Lemaing’s arrival, a dispute arose between him and

Lemoung, the chief of the house in which we were resting: both voices

grew excited; at last, they jumped up, and each spat upon the floor

in a paroxysm of mutual defiance: here we interposed to preserve the

peace, and calm being restored, it was found that seven years ago they

had disputed about the division of Mr. Low’s goods, and the quarrel

had continued ever since--the whole amount being five dollars. Lemoung

said that his house had been burnt down in consequence of the white man

ascending Kina Balu, and that no good crops of rice had grown since;

but it was all envy; he thought in the distribution he had not secured

a fair share. We asked if he had ascended the mountain; he said no, but

his son had brought some rice, for which, on inquiry, we found he had

been paid. Drizzling rain the whole afternoon.

The thermometer registered 66° last night, and we enjoyed our sleep

under blankets. At midday, we took out the barometer from its case,

and found, to our inexpressible vexation, that it was utterly smashed.

This will destroy half the pleasure of the ascent; in fact, our

spirits are somewhat depressed by the accident, and by Mr. Low’s feet

getting worse. At twelve, thermometer 77°. (The lamentable accident so

disgusted me that I find no further entry in that day’s journal, but

a pencilled note remarks that the Ida’an preserve their rice in old

bamboos two fathoms long, which are placed on one side of the doorway.

It is said that these bamboos are preserved for generations, and, in

fact, they looked exceedingly ancient.)

Last night, thermometer 69°. At early dawn, we heard the war-drums

beating in several houses, and shouts and yells from the boys. They

said it was a fête day, but we rightly guessed it had something to

do with our expedition. For some time, our guide did not make his

appearance, and a few young fellows on the hill over the village threw

stones as we appeared at the door--a very harmless demonstration, as

they were several hundred yards off--but discharging and cleaning a

revolver lessened the amount of hostile shouting. About nine, the guide

made his appearance; the women seemed to enjoy the scene, and followed

us to witness the skirmish; but the enemy, if there were an enemy, did

not show, and the promised ambush came to nothing--it was but a trick

of Lemoung to try and disgust Lemaing, and frighten us by the beating

of drums and shouting. At the place where we were assured an attack

would be made, we found but a few harmless women carrying tobacco.

Our path lay along the side of the hill in which the village stands,

we followed it about four miles in an easterly direction, and then

descended to a torrent, one of the feeders of the Tampasuk, where we

determined to spend the night, as Mr. Low’s feet were becoming very

swollen and painful, and it was as well to collect the party. We had

passed through considerable fields of sweet potatoes, kiladi, and

tobacco, where the path was crossed occasionally by cool rills from the

mountains. We enjoyed the cold water very much, and had a delightful

bath. The torrent comes tumbling down, and forms many fine cascades.

Mr. Low botanized a little, notwithstanding his feet were suppurating.

The hut in which we spent the night was very pretty-looking,

flat-roofed, built entirely of bamboos.

To-day, we had a specimen of the thieving of our Ida’an followers.

One man was caught burying a tin of sardines; another stole a Bologna

sausage, for which, when hungry, I remembered him, and another a fowl.

Next morning, Mr. Low found it impossible to walk, and I was therefore

obliged to start without him. We showed our perfect confidence in the

villagers of Kiau by dividing our party, leaving only four men with

Mr. Low to take care of the arms; we carried with us up the mountain

nothing but our swords and one revolver. They must have thought us a

most extraordinary people; but we knew that their demonstrations of

hostility were really harmless, and more aimed against each other than

against us. Probably, had we appeared afraid, it might have been a

different matter.

Our course was at first nearly east up the sub-spur of a great

buttress. The walking was severe, from the constant and abrupt ascents

and descents, and the narrowness of the path when it ran along the

sides of the hill, where it was but the breadth of the foot. At one

place we had a view of a magnificent cascade. The stream that runs by

the cave, which is to be one of our resting-places, falls over the

rocks forming minor cascades; then coming to the edge of the precipice,

throws itself over, and in its descent of above fifteen hundred feet

appears to diffuse itself in foam, ere it is lost in the depths of the

dark-wooded ravines below.

I soon found I had made a great mistake in permitting these active

mountaineers to lead the way at their own pace, as before twelve

o’clock I was left alone with them, all my men being far behind, as

they were totally unaccustomed to the work. Arriving at a little

foaming rivulet, I sat down and waited for the rest of the party, and

when they came up, they appeared so exhausted that I had compassion

on them, and agreed to spend the night here. The Ida’an were very

dissatisfied, and declared they would not accompany us, if we intended

to make such short journeys; but we assured them that we would go

on alone if they left us, and not pay them the stipulated price for

leading us to the summit. I soon set the men to work to build a hut

of long poles, over which we could stretch our oiled cloths, and to

make a raised floor to secure us from being wet through by the damp

moss and heavy rain that would surely fall during the night. At three

P.M. the thermometer fell to 65°, which to the children of the

plain rendered the air unpleasantly cold; but we worked hard to collect

boughs and leaves to make our beds soft; and wood was eagerly sought

for to make fires in the holes beneath our raised floor. This filled

the place with smoke, but gave some warmth to the men.

The Ida’an again tried to get back, but I would not receive their

excuse that they would be up early in the morning: they then set

hard at work going through incantations to drive away sickness. The

guide Lemaing carried an enormous bundle of charms, and on him fell

the duty of praying or repeating some forms: he was at it two hours

by my watch. To discover what he said, or the real object to whom he

addressed himself, was almost impossible through the medium of our bad

interpreters. I could hear him repeating my name, and they said he was

soliciting the spirits of the mountain to favour us.

The thermometer registered 57° last night in tent. Started at seven; I

observed a fine yellow sweet-scented rhododendron on a decayed tree,

and requested my men on their return to take it to Mr. Low; continuing

the ascent, after an hour’s tough walking, reached the top of the

ridge. There it was better for a short time; but the forest, heavily

hung with moss, is exposed to the full force of the south-west monsoon,

and the trees are bent across the path, leaving occasionally only

sufficient space to crawl through. We soon came upon the magnificent

pitcher-plant, the _Nepenthes Lowii_, that Mr. Low was anxious

to get. We could find no young plants, but took cuttings, which the

natives said would grow.

We stopped to breakfast at a little swampy spot, where the trees are

becoming very stunted, though in positions protected from the winds

they grow to a great height. Continuing our course, we came upon a

jungle that appeared to be composed almost entirely of rhododendrons,

some with beautiful pink, crimson, and yellow flowers. I sat near one

for about half an hour apparently in intense admiration, but, in fact,

very tired, and breathless, and anxious about my followers, only one of

whom had kept up with me.

Finding it useless to wait longer, as the mist was beginning to roll

down from the summit, and the white plain of clouds below appeared

rising, I pushed on to the cave, which we intended to occupy. It was

a huge granite boulder, resting on the hill side, that sheltered

us but imperfectly from the cold wind. The Ida’an, during the day,

amused themselves in trying to secure some small twittering birds,

which looked like canaries, with a green tint on the edges of their

wings, but were unsuccessful. They shot innumerable pellets from their

blowpipes, but did not secure one. In fact, they did not appear to use

this instrument with any skill.

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

48°.

Some of my men did not reach us till after dark, and it was with great

difficulty that I could induce the Malays to exert themselves to

erect the oiled cloths, to close the mouth of the cave, and procure

sufficient firewood. They appeared paralyzed by the cold, and were

unwilling to move.

During the night, the thermometer at the entrance of the cave fell to

36° 5´; and on my going out to have a look at the night-scene, all the

bushes and trees appeared fringed with hoar frost.

After breakfasting at the cave, we started for the summit. Our course

lay at first through a thick low jungle, full of rhododendrons; it

then changed into a stunted brushwood, that almost hid the rarely-used

path; gradually the shrubs gave way to rocks, and then we commenced our

ascent over the naked granite. A glance upwards from the spot where

we first left the jungle, reveals a striking scene--a face of granite

sweeping steeply up for above 3,000 feet to a rugged edge of pointed

rocks; while on the farthest left the southern peak looked from this

view a rounded mass. Here and there small runnels of water passed over

the granite surface, and patches of brushwood occupied the sheltered

nooks. The rocks were often at an angle of nearly forty degrees, so

that I was forced to ascend them, at first, with woollen socks, and

when they were worn through, with bare feet. It was a sad alternative,

as the rough stone wore away the skin and left a bleeding and tender

surface.

After hard work, we reached the spot where Mr. Low had left a bottle,

and found it intact--the writing in it was not read, as I returned it

unopened to its resting-place.

Low’s Gully is one of the most singular spots in the summit. We ascend

an abrupt ravine, with towering perpendicular rocks on either side,

till a rough natural wall bars the way. Climbing on this, you look over

a deep chasm, surrounded on three sides by precipices, so deep that

the eye could not reach the bottom; but the twitter of innumerable

swallows could be distinctly heard, as they flew in flocks below. There

was no descending here: it was a sheer precipice of several thousand

feet, and this was the deep fissure pointed out to me by Mr. Low from

the cocoa-nut grove on the banks of the Tampasuk when we were reclining

there, and proved that he had remembered the very spot where he had

left the bottle.

I was now anxious to reach one of those peaks which are visible

from the sea; so we descended Low’s Gully, through a thicket of

rhododendrons, bearing a beautiful blood-coloured flower, and made our

way to the westward. It was rough walking at first, while we continued

to skirt the rocky ridge that rose to our right; but gradually leaving

this, we advanced up an incline composed entirely of immense slabs of

granite, and reaching the top, found a noble terrace, half a mile in

length, whose sides sloped at an angle of thirty degrees on either

side. The ends were the Southern Peak and a huge cyclopean wall.

I followed the guides to the former, and after a slippery ascent,

reached the summit. I have mentioned that this peak has a rounded

aspect when viewed from the eastward; but from the northward it appears

to rise sharply to a point; and when with great circumspection I

crawled up, I found myself on a granite point, not three feet in width,

with but a water-worn way a few inches broad to rest on, and prevent my

slipping over the sloping edges.

During the climbing to-day, I suffered slightly from shortness of

breath, and felt some disinclination to bodily exertion; but as soon

as I sat down on this lofty point, it left me, and a feeling came on as

if the air rendered me buoyant and made me long to float away.

Calmly seated here, I first turned my attention to the other peaks,

which stretched in a curved line from east to west, and was rather

mortified to find that the most westerly and another to the east

appeared higher than where I sat, but certainly not more than a hundred

feet. The guides called this the mother of the mountain, but her

children may have outgrown her. Turning to the south-west, I could but

obtain glimpses of the country, as many thousand feet below masses of

clouds passed continually over the scene, giving us but a partial view

of sea, and rivers, and hills. One thing immediately drew my attention,

and that was a very lofty peak towering above the clouds, bearing S. ½

E. It appeared to be an immense distance off, and I thought it might

be the great mountain of Lawi, of which I went in search some months

later; but it must be one much farther to the eastward, and may be the

summit of Tilong, which, as I have before mentioned, some declare to be

much more lofty than Balu itself.

Immediately below me, the granite for a thousand feet sloped sharply

down to the edge of that lofty precipice that faces the valley of

Pinokok to the south-west. I felt a little nervous while we were

passing along this to reach the southern peak, as on Mr. Low’s former

expedition a Malay had slipped at a less formidable spot, and been

hurried down the steep incline at a pace that prevented any hope of

his arresting his own progress, when leaning on his side his kris

fortunately entered a slight cleft, and arrested him on the verge of a

precipice.

Among the detached rocks and in the crevices grew a kind of moss, on

which the Ida’an guides declared the spirits of their ancestors fed. A

grass also was pointed out that served for the support of the ghostly

buffaloes which always followed their masters to the other world. As a

proof, the print of a foot was shown me as that of a young buffalo; it

was not very distinct, but appeared more like the impression left by a

goat or deer.

Our guides became very nervous as the clouds rose and now occasionally

topped the precipice, and broke, and swept up the slopes, enveloping

us. They urged me to return; I saw it was necessary, and complied, as

the wind was rising, and the path we were to follow was hidden in mist.

We found the air pleasantly warm and very invigorating; the thermometer

marked 62° in the shade; and as we perceived little rills of water

oozing from among the granite rocks, the summit would prove a much

better encamping ground than our cold cave, where the sun never

penetrates. The Ida’an, however, feared to spend one night in this

abode of spirits, and declined carrying my luggage.

Our return was rather difficult, as the misty rain rendered the rocks

slippery, but we all reached the cave in safety. Here I received a note

from Mr. Low, but he was still unable to walk. The bathing water was

49°.

During the night the temperature fell, and the registering thermometer

marked 41°. My feet were so injured by yesterday’s walking that I was

unable to reascend the mountain to collect plants and flowers, so

sent my head man Musa with a large party. I, however, strolled about a

little to look for seeds and a sunny spot, as the ravine in which our

temporary home was, chilled me through. I was continually enveloped

in mist, and heard afterwards to my regret that the summit was clear,

and that all the surrounding country lay exposed to view. The low,

tangled jungle was too thick to admit of our seeing much. I climbed

the strongest and highest trees there, but could only get glimpses of

distant hills.

Thermometer during the night, 43°, while in the cave yesterday it

marked 56° at two o’clock.

Started early to commence our descent, collecting a few plants on our

way; the first part of the walking is tolerably good--in fact, as far

as the spot where we rested for breakfast on our ascent. It is in

appearance a series of mighty steps. Passed on the wayside innumerable

specimens of that curious pitcher-plant the _Nepenthes villosa_,

with serrated lips.

After leaving the great steps, our course was along the edge of

a ridge, where the path is extremely narrow; in fact, in two or

three places not above eighteen inches wide--a foot of it serving

as parapet, six inches of sloping rock forming the path. From one

of these craggy spots a noble landscape is spread before us, eighty

miles of coast-line, with all the intervening country being visible

at once. With one or two exceptions, plains skirt the sea-shore, then

an undulating country, gradually rising to ranges varying from two to

three thousand feet, with glimpses of silvery streams flowing among

them. The waters of the Mengkabong and Sulaman, swelling to the

proportions of lakes, add a diversity to the scene.

It is fortunate that the ridge is not often so narrow as at these

spots; for on one side there is a sheer descent of fifteen hundred

feet, and on the other is very perpendicular-ground, but wooded. Two

decaying rocks that obstruct the path are also dangerous to pass, as

we had to round them, with uncertain footing, and nothing but a bare,

crumbling surface to grasp. With the exception of these, the path

is not difficult or tiring, until we leave the ridge and descend to

the right towards the valleys: then it is steep, slippery, and very

fatiguing, and this continues for several miles, until we have lowered

the level nearly four thousand feet. The path, in fact, is as vile as

path can be.

By the time I reached the hut where I had left Mr. Low, I felt

completely exhausted; but a little rest, a glass of brandy-and-water,

and a bathe in the dashing torrent that foamed among the rocks at our

feet, thoroughly restored me. The water here felt pleasant after the

bitter cold of that near the cave. My companion had employed his time

collecting plants, though his feet were not at all better.

Next morning we manufactured a kind of litter, on which Mr. Low was to

be carried, and then started along a path that skirted the banks of the

Kalupis, that flows beneath the village, and is, in fact, the source of

the Tampasuk. We passed through several fields of tobacco, as well as

of yams and kiladis; the first is carefully cultivated, and not a weed

was to be observed among the plants. Leaving the water, we pushed up

the steep bank to the lower houses of the village, and made our way on

to Lemoung’s, to reach it just as a drenching shower came on.

Here we found one of our Baju guides, who had been sent back to

construct rafts for the return voyage. I was not sorry to find that

some had been prepared, as it appeared otherwise necessary that Mr. Low

should be carried the whole way.

The villagers said they were at war even during the time we were at

their houses with a neighbouring tribe, which induces them to bear arms

wherever they may go; but the whole affair must be very trifling, as

they sleep at their farms, and we saw, totally unprotected, troops of

girls and women at work in the fields.

We thought it better to make some complaints of the dishonesty shown,

before we ascended the mountain; they were profuse in apologies, but

they had evidently enjoyed the sausage.

We spent the afternoon and evening in settling all claims against

us, and having completed that work, ordered the rest of our baggage

to be packed up ready for an early start next morning. Among the

undistributed goods was about twenty pounds weight of thick brass

wire. While I was away bathing, Lemaing coolly walked off with it; but

on my return Mr. Low informed me of what had occurred. Knowing that

if we permitted this to pass unnoticed, it would be a signal for a

general plunder, we determined to recover the wire. As Mr. Low could

not move, I went by myself in search of Lemaing, and soon heard his

voice speaking loudly in the centre of a dense crowd of the villagers.

I forced my way through, and found him seated, with the brass wire in

his hand, evidently pointing out its beauty to an admiring audience.

I am afraid I very much disconcerted him, as with one hand I tore the

prize from his grasp, and with the other put a revolver to his head,

and told him to beware of meddling with our baggage. I never saw a look

of greater astonishment; he tried to speak, but the words would not

come, and the crowd opening, I bore back the trophy to our end of the

village house.

The Bajus told us we should find the Ida’an of the plains dishonest,

while those of the hills had the contrary reputation. We lost nothing

in the plains; here we had to guard carefully against pilferers.

We noticed that as we gradually receded from the sea, the clothing of

the inhabitants became less--on the plains all the Ida’an wore trousers

and jackets; at Koung and Kiau very few, and we were assured that those

in the interior wore nothing but bark waist-cloths.

An incident occurred the evening before our departure, which showed

how the Ida’an distrust each other. Among the goods we paid to our

guides were twenty fathoms of thick brass wire; the coils were put down

before them; they talked over it for two hours, and could not settle

either the division, or who should take care of it until morning; at

length one by one all retired and left the wire before us, the last man

pushing it towards Musa, asking him to take charge of it. Not relishing

this trust, he carried it to Li Moung’s house, and placing it in the

midst of the crowd, left it, and they then quarrelled over it till

morning.

We thought last night every claim had been settled, but this morning

they commenced again, anxious to prevent any goods leaving their

village. We ourselves did not care to take back to our pinnace anything

that was not necessary to enable us to pay our way. We made liberal

offers to them if they would carry Mr. Low to the next village, but

they positively refused to assist us farther. We therefore collected

our Malays outside the place, and prepared to start; and were on the

point of doing so, when shouts in the village house attracted our

attention, and a man ran out to say that they were plundering the

baggage left in charge of the Buñgol Ida’an. As this consisted of our

clothes and cooking utensils, it was not to be borne, and I ran back

into the house, where I found a couple of hundred men surrounding our

Ida’an followers and undoing the packages; they were startled by the

sight of my rifle, and when they heard the rush caused by the advance

of Mr. Low and our Malays, they fled to the end of the house, and soon

disappeared through the opposite door. The panic seemed to cause the

greatest amusement to the girls of this house, who talked and laughed,

and patted us on the shoulders, and appeared to delight in the rapid

flight of their countrymen. None of their own relatives, however, had

joined in the affair.

Mr. Low’s rapid advance to my support surprised me; but I found that

with the assistance of a servant he had hopped the whole of the way,

revolver in hand. Our men behaved with remarkable resolution, and would

have driven off the whole village had it been necessary. One Malay got

so excited, that he commenced a war dance, and had we not instantly

interfered, would have worked himself up to run a muck among the

Ida’an. Though we wished to frighten them into honesty towards us, we

were most anxious that not the slightest wound should be given, and I

may here remark, that in none of our journeys have we ever found it

necessary to use our weapons against the inhabitants. We discovered

that showing ourselves prepared to fight, if necessary, prevented its

being ever necessary to fight.

We pushed on to Koung by a path that led below Labang Labang, Mr. Low

suffering severely from the necessity of having to walk six miles over

stony country with suppurating feet.

At Koung we vainly endeavoured to obtain a buffalo, on which Mr. Low

might ride; but the villagers showed no inclination to assist. So next

morning we pushed on through heavy rain to the village of Tambatuan,

where the Tampasuk becomes a little more fit for rafts. I was glad to

see Mr. Low safely there, and then, as the rafts would not hold us all,

I walked on with the men. The heavy rain had caused the river to swell,

and the walking and the fording were doubly difficult, but we continued

our course, and in two days reached the village of Ginambur, and

joining Mr. Low on the raft, pursued our journey to the Datu’s house.

Next day to the Abai; but contrary winds prevented our reaching Labuan

for five days.

We were not quite satisfied with the results of this expedition,

and determined to start again, but choosing another route, the same

followed by Mr. Low in 1851.