MY LIMBANG JOURNAL.
Start--Discovery of Bones and ancient Ornaments--At the
Site of the Old City--At the Stone Fort--At Sarawak--The
Trusan, or connecting Passage--Apathy of the Government and
People--Sago--Method of preparing it for the Market--The
Limbang River--The Inhabitants--Winding Stream--The Orang
Kaya Upit of Kruei--Sampirs--Gadong Hill--Scenery--Molu--The
Raman Palm--Delays--Cholera--Orang Kaya Napur--Panglima
Prang--The Weather--State of the River--Origin of
the Ponds--Native Geographical Information--The
Upper Country--Cataract--Enchanted Mountain--Native
Travelling--Dreams and Omen Birds--Religion of Pakatans--Cause
of Head-hunting--The Wild Boar--Trouble in procuring
Guides--Pengkalan Tarap--Desolation of the Country--Causes
of it--Selling Children--Kayan Barbarity--Chinese
at Batang Parak--Site of Burnt Villages--Posts of
Houses--Two kinds of Sago Palm--Their Growth--Kayan
Encampment--Cultivation--The River--Rocks--Salt Springs--Native
Explanation--Anecdote--Time to halt--Birds--Rare, except in
certain Districts--Monkeys--Alligators--The Man-eater--A
Challenge accepted--Disappearance of the Siol Alligator--Combat
with two in a Cave--Method of Capturing them in Siam--Laying
Eggs in the Jungle--Ducks and Drakes--Malay Cookery--Very
tasty--Bachang--How to make a Curry--Anecdotes of Bornean
Rule--Attack on the Limpasong Village--Insurrection of the
Aborigines--Forced Trade--Qualities necessary in a Malay
Ruler--The great Mountain of Tilong--Discomfort of possessing a
large Diamond--Diamonds found in Borneo.
_August 25th, 1858._--We started, and as we pulled through the
town in the early morn crowds came to their doors to have a look at
what they no doubt considered as a doomed party.
Our route, after leaving the houses, was up the Brunei river, till we
reached a Trusan, or passage,[1] connecting it with the Limbang. We
soon left the pretty scenery near the capital, and exchanged for it low
banks, with mangrove swamp, occasionally varied by undulating dry land.
After a two hours’ pull, we passed the graves of some rajahs on the
left-hand bank; near them, it is reported, a great many bones are found
scattered about; the natives say it was the site of a battle-field;
gold ornaments are also occasionally discovered, but slightly covered
with soil; it is very probable that a village once stood here.
These discoveries of ancient ornaments are events of not unfrequent
occurrence. Some seven years ago a man was prawn-fishing with a
casting-net, about two miles below the consulate, when he found some
gold buttons entangled among the prawns; he instantly marked the
place, and dived, and found several articles; the news spread like
wildfire, and hundreds flocked to the spot; the mud was dug over in the
neighbourhood to the depth of several feet, and the river raked with
great care; it is reported that a large amount was found. I afterwards
examined the spot; it proved to be the site of the ancient city of
Burnei, of which Pigafetta speaks; it is now called Kota Batu, or the
stone fort, on account of the foundations of some buildings that have
been uncovered there. I must confess to great disappointment when I
visited them; these ancient remains consisted of nothing but loose
stones thrown into a long ditch about eighteen feet wide.
Great quantities of gold ornaments have likewise been discovered at the
Santubong entrance of the Sarawak river; this was likewise the site
of an old town. I tried on my last visit to find some to examine the
workmanship, but most had been melted up, and the specimens purchased
by Sir James Brooke were lost during the Chinese insurrection of 1857.
Half an hour afterwards we reached the Trusan, and entered it on our
way to the Limbang; it took us two hours and a half to get through;
the banks are low, at first mangrove, then slight openings showing
small padi fields, then sago with lofty fruit-trees in the background.
Nothing better exemplifies the character of this people and government
than the Trusan we were passing through; in a straight line the
distance cannot be three miles, yet nothing is done even to clear it
of the obstruction of fallen trees, overhanging branches, and sharp
turnings; occasionally it is not above six feet wide; hundreds pass
through it every day; and though they have often to wait hours till
the tide has risen sufficiently to float them over the obstructions,
they will not combine to clear it: fifty men in a week could render it
passable for large boats at half-tide, but there is no government for
useful purposes, and no combination among the people.
We were very glad to get clear of this Trusan, and enter into an open
space, a sort of long narrow lake connected with the main river by
diminutive passages, enclosing the island of Pandam, a dense mass of
sagotrees. Here there is some sign of life, many houses are scattered
on the banks whose inhabitants are busy preparing the pith of the palm
for transmission to the capital. We saw them to-day going through every
stage, some were felling the tree, others clearing it of all its leaves
and branches and dragging it to the water’s edge; rafts of prepared
palms were floating down alone, but with certain marks to distinguish
the owners. We landed at one spot and inquired the reason of this
unusual bustle; the price had risen, and every one was anxious to take
advantage of the market.
We had around us about a dozen men working; the trees, some of them
fifty feet in length by two and a half in diameter, were first cut in
sections of about a fathom, then split in two; the pith was scooped
out, or rather chopped out with a scoop, as it was very hard and
required great exertion to get it out; the women and children carried
it to the river’s banks to a prepared framework, and threw the rough
sago on a platform of split bamboos: here a man stood who, after
wetting the stuff with pails’ full of water, trod out the flour into a
receptacle below. It seemed a very wasteful process. The coarse sago is
put into leaf cases and sold to the Chinese, who turn it into the flour
and pearl of commerce.
Leaving the island of Pandam we joined the main stream, which was here
about a hundred yards wide; the banks as we advanced presented the same
features, low, with occasional hills to be seen, cultivation very rough
and careless; the sago and rice the most valuable; the gardens were but
poorly looked after, the chief attention being given to the banana.
Occasionally there are very extensive groves of fruit-trees, but even
these are choked with brushwood. Tame buffaloes are very numerous
on the lower part of this river; we also saw a few cows, but until
lately little attention was given to breeding them; now, however, that
a steady demand has arisen in Labuan, many of the natives have been
induced to collect herds.
After passing the Trusan no more Malay houses are to be seen; the
inhabitants being the aborigines, the Bisayas, Muruts, and a few
Kadayans; their villages occupy nearly every reach. A glance at the
map will show what a winding course this river takes; the soil being
alluvial offers no obstruction to its changing its direction, and there
are many signs of its having altered its bed.
We pulled on to the village of Kruei (Argus pheasant), the residence
of Orang Kaya Upit, a son of one of the Adang people, who had promised
to accompany us. I had with me a chop or firman from the Sultan, in
order to render my procuring guides a work of less difficulty, but,
though not refusing, the Orang Kaya was unwilling to start immediately.
It would have been very unreasonable of me to have expected a man to
be ready at a day’s notice, but this Orang Kaya had settled for some
months to accompany me. I agreed to stay a day, as I wished to procure
a couple of light boats; in the evening a messenger arrived from the
Sultan with orders for every assistance to be given me.[2]
_26th._--As this was a day of enforced delay I determined to
divide my men; some, under Musa, I sent away to purchase or borrow
boats, called here sampirs; they are long and narrow, being simply
a canoe, with a plank on either side tied on with rattans and then
roughly caulked; they have a front and stem piece fastened in the same
way; they are not strong, but are light and very suited to up-country
work, varying in length from thirty to sixty feet, and in breadth from
one and a half to three feet: as might be expected, they are any thing
but stiff.
While Musa was away on this duty, I pulled back to the Gadong hills
to take bearings. I was disappointed in not being able to distinguish
Molu, but I had some good views of other mountain ranges. The
appearance of the country from this elevation (682 feet) was very
pretty; to the east of us were alternate diminutive plains and low
hills, with rice fields whose bright green contrasted well with the
sombre brushwood; farmhouses were scattered here and there; to the
west it was but a confused mass of hills and valleys. The course of
the river is clearly visible, with its extraordinary windings and its
patches of cultivation scattered along its banks; even here in the
neighbourhood of the capital two-thirds of the land is still jungle or
brushwood.
Towards evening Musa returned, and I was glad to find that he had
arranged to buy a sampir and borrow two more, and to leave our canoe
behind.
_27th._--This morning the peak of Molu was visible, and I
immediately went ashore to get a good bearing, as the boat rocked too
much to allow me to do it aboard. I find it 9° E. of S. The Adang
Muruts give the name of Batu Barit to the mountain, or to one peak
of it; Barit is the same as the Malay “berlukis,” ornamented; they
say they call it by that name on account of some tracings observed on
the rocks, probably fanciful, or from the stone being discoloured in
various parts of the precipices. They talk also of a very large palm,
the Riman, that grows in great plenty at the foot of the mountain; this
yields in abundance a very superior kind of sago, but; _baniak_,
“much,” has a very different signification in their mouths, it may mean
a few trees scattered about, or a forest of palms.
Yesterday the Orang Kaya Upit went in search of the Merasam people, who
had agreed to accompany the expedition; they are full of delays, but
talk of following to-morrow: I shall push on to look for other guides
in case these fail us; every day’s delay lessens our stock of food; I
have tried to procure some rice in these villages, but nothing is to be
had. In fact, they will seldom sell me any food, as the Borneans would
make that an excuse to squeeze more out of them after my departure.
The Orang Kaya has begged for one of my sampirs, and as it is on my
business he is going, the request is but reasonable, so I have given
him one, and also some cloth to procure provisions.
We pushed on at 9 A.M., and as we advanced we found all the
villages deserted on account of the cholera; the visitation was nearly
over, but the Muruts were too alarmed to return to their houses; as no
one was to be found at Bidang, the residence of the Orang Kaya Napur,
an Adang man, we continued our course to Danau, where it was said we
should find him; but on arriving, we heard that he was some distance
inland; I therefore sent old Japer to look for him.
5 P.M.--Here is the Orang Kaya Napur, but there is evidently
no getting him to accompany us; he has many reasons for not going,
some of them good ones; among others, he is planting his rice farm.
I explained I only wanted a guide, not a train of followers. Towards
evening my old friend Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, of the village of
Blimbing, came to see me; he followed me to Molu in both of my former
expeditions, and is half inclined to come now, but as he does not know
the country beyond six days’ pull, he would not be very useful. He
has deserted Blimbing, having too few followers to hold his own even
against a small Kayan expedition, and so now he lives here until the
Pañgeran Tumanggong can afford him some support, not very likely to be
given at present. The cholera has attacked all the villages, but does
not seem to have carried off many; the fright was great, and still
continues, so that most of the people are yet living in the woods. All
those who do not expect to be connected with my expedition, say that
this is the proper season, and that the rain is exceptional, while
the others whom I want to accompany me, assure me that by waiting two
months I shall have fine weather. It certainly looks rainy, but we
must do our best even if freshes do come down, and we may yet reach
Adang by perseverance. This place is called Danau, on account of a
diminutive lake, or large pond, that lies at the back of the village;
the entrance, now dry, is at the end of the reach ahead.
_28th._--Last night a heavy squall, which appeared to spring from
the south-east, but soon veered round to the south-west, made me fear a
fresh in the morning, but (7 a.m.) as yet it has not come down upon us.
There is much matter held in suspension by the water, as every glass
of it we take from the river proves; this, however, appears its normal
state, as I have seen it the same at different seasons, as in October,
November, December, May, and now, August; not exactly the same, as the
water after heavy freshlets is muddy. The banks appear to be generally
formed of alluvial deposits; occasionally only have I observed hard
banks of clay, and nowhere are there rocks, except where a hill abuts
on the river. At the entrance of the Limbang there are many alluvial
deposits, and two low islands called Pulau Bharu, or the new islands,
are said by the natives to have been formed within the memory of their
old men; they are but little raised above high-water mark, and are
excellent rice grounds.
A glance at the map will show the serpentine course of the Limbang,
and how the river is eating into its banks; in several places they are
nearly worn through. I imagine (and examination almost confirms it)
that the origin of the numerous ponds to be found a short distance from
the banks arises from the alteration of the river’s bed. There is in
the Sarawak river a short cut between two reaches, which appears within
a few years likely to become the main stream--nature assisted by man:
sandbanks are already forming, which yearly tend to increase the force
of the current through the short passage, and will doubtless ultimately
close up the old channel, leaving a lake of a couple of miles in length
on the right bank.
I may here notice, in order to test the value of native geographical
information, the various accounts I have received of the journey
before us. Casting aside the stories of its being one, two, or three
months’ distance, I will simply enter what I have reduced to something
like reason. They say from Blimbing to Madalam is two days’ pull;
to Salindong, two; to Madihit, two; to Busoi or Saledan, three; to
Adang, seven, or sixteen days from the last inhabited village (since
abandoned) to the Adang landing-place: from that to the houses, from
one to six days.
I do not understand the great discrepancy in the land journey, except
that the Adangs have removed farther inland. It is certainly a voyage
of discovery, but my only anxiety is with respect to the provisions.
From the amount of water that was in the river above Madalam, I cannot
think it so far. Busoi appears to mean a cataract, and there, they say,
the river falls over rocks, and the boats have to be dragged along
the shore for a distance which varies with the stories from fifty
yards to a mile. Enormous overhanging rocks occur at the cataract,
almost shutting in the river, but above it the water is smooth, and
the pulling easy for seven days; this is not very likely. The river is
said to abound in fine fish. The story of the wild goats is beginning
to fade away, and is replaced by tame ones in the possession of the
Muruts. One of the greatest curiosities, the natives say, is the
formation of two mountains, which rise from the plain in lofty peaks of
the shape of needles; they have never been to them, but have seen them
from a distance; they are the pillars of the gate of some enchanted
palace, and I heard it whispered to one of my men that all were not
privileged to see even these pillars; it requires some incantation; so
that there is a chance of the needle mountains vanishing into thin air.
I may remark that when the natives speak of the journey sometimes
occupying two or three months, they mean for a Murut party. The reason
is that they start with, perhaps, two days’ provisions, and trust to
hunting for their food. If they find a spot where game is plentiful,
they stay there till it is exhausted; if the jungle produce no sport,
they live on the cabbages taken from the palms, on the edible fern, on
snakes, or anything, in fact, that they can find. If they come across
bees’ nests, they stop to secure the wax and honey. Time is of no value
to them, as they generally start after the harvest, and many parties
are said to have taken six months.
It is curious to hear the Islam-converted old Pakatan Japer talk. He
says dreams were sent by God to be a teaching and a warning to us; when
he is going up a river on an expedition, if he dream of his wife or of
his children, or of ascending a river, it is good; if of descending
a river, or of fire, or of anything disagreeable, he is sure to meet
an enemy or some misfortune. If his añgei, or omen bird, cry to the
right, it is good luck; his cried to the right when he left Kanowit
eight years ago, and he has not had a misfortune since. I asked him how
it came to pass then that his house was plundered and burnt down by
the Kayans last year; he was silenced for a moment, and having waited
till the men had had their laugh, he said his people considered it a
punishment for living among the bad Tabuns;[3] however, the Pakatans
have avenged him by burning down a Kayan village.
It is two p.m., and no sign of Orang Kaya Upit yet; this delay is very
provoking, as we can get no provisions here. Last night, at six, I sent
a party with Orang Kaya Napur down the river to find Kadayan, an Adang
man, and try and induce him to follow us; he promises to come in the
morning. We had a long talk last night about various matters. Old Japer
was telling us of the belief of the wild tribes. Having been converted,
however, he laughs at the follies of his countrymen, and therefore
spoils his narration. His conversion, however, is but skin deep. He
says they believe in antus, or spirits, one of whom is far greater
than the rest; he it was who “made the woods, the mountains, and the
streams, and is above all and over all.” The Pakatans call him Guha,
the Kayans, Totaduñgan.
He denies that head-hunting is a religious ceremony among them; it is
merely to show their bravery and manliness, that it may be said so and
so has obtained heads; when they quarrel, it is a constant phrase,
“How many heads did your father or grandfather get?” If less than his
own number, “Well, then, you have no occasion to be proud!” That the
possession of heads gives them great consideration as warriors and
men of wealth; the skulls being prized as the most valuable of goods.
“Alas! when I was a Kapir (infidel) I took more than forty heads,”
hypocritical sorrow, but real pride, in his tone. He adds that hunting
is the greatest pleasure of the wild tribes, and that the wild boar is
exceedingly fierce, and makes a good fight; it requires much skill to
conquer him. “It is a delight for me to look back on my hunting days.”
The China trader that lives at the Pangkalan Tarap came and promised
his assistance in getting sago, which we must use as a substitute for
rice.
_29th._--A little rain last night, and a dirty-looking morning. No
Orang Kaya Upit. We are now opposite the Chinaman’s house. I shall push
on to-morrow morning, guide or no guide, and trust to their following
us.
2 p.m.--Kadayan and a companion have come, and promise to be guides,
but as they have to return to their houses, I have no confidence that
they will follow, but only cause us fresh delays; however, as I have
obtained a pikul[4] of raw sago, and seven gantangs[5] of beans, I can
better afford to wait. They put every difficulty in the way, and lie
like troopers as to the distance, declaring it to be a journey of six
months for us who take food; they say, also, that they are in debt at
Adang, and in debt here. I have given each a piece of blachu,[6] to
buy food for their families; and I have sent a crew away to try and
borrow a couple of sampirs.
_30th._--This morning the lazy Orang Kaya Upit joined us with
three men; their omen bird, they said, had uttered a warning cry, and
they had been unable to join me before, an excuse to which I am now
somewhat used.
I am going to try and perform the journey in my own garei, as I can
find no more sampirs at these villages to buy or borrow, and with a
little extra trouble she will do, and be twice as comfortable for me.
Were we to be utterly stopt, the men say we can make some bark canoes
for those that cannot get into the sampirs.
Pangkalan Tarap is becoming an important village, as by orders of the
Pañgeran Tumanggong the people are collecting there to show a better
fight to the Kayans, and now number “two hundred men who can hold a
shield.” The detached house system, so progressive with security,
does not answer in a country exposed to periodical incursions. It
is lamentable to see this fine district, once well cultivated, now
returning to brushwood; formerly, when the population extended a
hundred miles beyond the last village at present inhabited, the supply
of provisions was ample for Brunei; now that the Muruts are decreasing,
while Brunei is perhaps as numerous as ever, the demands made are too
great even for native forbearance, and in disgust they are gradually
abandoning all garden cultivation; already brushwood is taking the
place of bananas and yams; few of either can now be had. The people
say it is useless for them to plant for others to eat the whole produce.
The aborigines must gradually disappear from this river if the same
process continues, as with food becoming daily scarcer, the area of
cultivation continually lessened, as they fear to move far from their
houses except in large armed parties, on account of the head-hunting
Kayans, their powers of natural increase must be stopped; add to this
their losses from cholera, small-pox, and the enemy, and we have
sufficient data to speculate on their eventual extermination from the
Limbang. They are gradually retreating down the river; twenty miles of
bank have been abandoned during the last two years.
Nor must it be omitted, that as the nobles are yearly less enabled to
obtain supplies from them, they are selling their children by dozens
into slavery, which enables Brunei to keep up its population. Directly
they arrive there, they are circumcised, and from that moment care
no more for their tribes, whom they despise as infidels, and they
then may be said to have joined the ranks of the oppressors. No lad
could well refuse to turn Mahomedan; he would be teased to death by
his companions, and if he long retained any affection for his family,
he would be ashamed to show it. Generally they are taken away young,
and the girls added to the numerous concubines of the rajahs: after a
year or two they get tired of them, and give them in marriage to their
followers.
At the back of this village is a large pond, and beyond there is
another of far greater extent, which they consider a great protection
against surprise. I am nursing my feet, much knocked about in ascending
Kina Balu, so do not land to examine. Obtained two pikuls more of sago.
We are pulling up quietly; passed Pangkalan Jawa. The Limbuak peak
bears about W. by S. At the back of the houses, at the foot of the
Ladan range, Orang Kaya Kiei and his family were cut off in a farmhouse
by the Kayans last February. The Kayans set fire to the rice stalks
under the house, and as the family rushed out they were killed; a
few, who either saw the fall of their companions, or were bewildered
by the smoke, stayed in the house and were burnt to death; ten women
and children lost their lives. The mode of death is conjectured from
finding seven headless trunks at the doorway, and four bodies charred,
without losing their heads. The summit of the Ladan range presents many
instances of extensive landslips. Stayed for bearings at Tampasong. I
find but few changes will be necessary in my previous map, in fact,
except in the position of the ranges, which I am carefully taking, it
will not be essentially improved as far as refers to the direction of
the reaches; but as to their length, I think many we have passed to-day
will require shortening. We were here joined by Kadayan and Si Nuri,
two Adang men.
5 p.m.--I am delighted to find myself at Batang Parak, long past the
last houses, and above sixty miles from Brunei. Batang Parak was
formerly inhabited by Chinese, who cultivated pepper; the Malays say
that they gradually died out, no fresh immigrants coming to recruit
their strength, and some of the older Muruts remembered them well, and
could repeat their names. Casual observations, however, prove that the
above was not the way in which the Chinese always disappeared, as on
passing the Madalam, a Bisaya chief pointed to a hill; formerly, he
said, the Chinese built a fort there, but they were attacked and all
killed.
But to return. I can now settle matters myself, and have nobody to
wait for. At about four, the rain and wind came in great force from
the S.W., which is a little unpleasant, but I hope it will not affect
the river above the Madalam. Slight rain continues. The men are on
shore, searching for vegetables, pumpkins, cucumbers, and fruit at the
site of the Tabun village, burnt down last year by the Kayans. The
plants grew up in great strength round the ruins, and afford supplies
to every visitor. This is the fourth time we have helped ourselves,
but to-day the pig-hunters having been before us, there are but few
left. The fruit-trees are covered with a young crop, but none are
ripe; everything, however, is eagerly appropriated by my men, who have
brought but little to eat with their rice. I leave off my journal to
turn to a miserable dinner of dried fish and stale bread, there being
no time to cook, but a bottle of porter made it palatable.
I noticed when passing the deserted village of Blimbing, which was
formerly the residence of my old friend, the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang,
that even the old posts of the houses were removed; the reason is this,
that being made of iron wood they will last for a century. In fact, in
many of the villages they have them, descended, it is said, from a long
line of ancestors, and these they remove with them wherever they may
establish themselves. Time and wear have reduced many of them to less
than five inches in diameter, the very heart of the tree, now black
with age and exposure.
When I first ascended the Limbang, and spent a few days at the village
of Blimbing, I found a large party of armed men assembled who were
preparing to collect sago palms, which grow in immense forests at the
foot of the Ladan range. They fell the palms there, and clearing them
of leaves, drag them to the banks of the small streams, and float them
to the village. They always say there are two species of sago palms,
one covered with thorns, the other free; the former is more safe from
the attacks of wild pigs, the latter perhaps more productive. Nature
has indeed stocked these countries with easily acquired food, as this
palm, for instance, though improved by cultivation, will yet reproduce
itself in extraordinary abundance.
After the first three or four years, the freshly planted palm is
surrounded by smaller ones springing from its roots, so that when the
time has arrived to secure its sago, which is after about eight years,
there is a crop of young ones approaching maturity; in fact, in a well
managed and old established plantation, a tree can yearly be cut from
the same clump. The natives know directly when the palm is ripe by the
appearance of the flower, but if it be allowed to fruit, the whole
pith is spoilt for the purposes of commerce. At present the trees in
these districts are seldom permitted to pass their fifth year, as the
aborigines fear to penetrate far into the forests, and trust to those
which grow near the banks of the river.
_31st._--Got away this morning at 6.20, and arrived at the end of
the west reach, beyond Suñgei Damit at 9.25. Just above Suñgei Damit is
the site of the great Kayan encampment. A force of above three thousand
of these wild warriors, in March and April, 1857, kept the capital in a
state of great alarm: and near here also, on the left bank, is a famous
fish-pond, Luagan Kura, and on its banks are some grassy slopes, where
the Tambadaus, or wild cattle, love to congregate. I may mention that
Mr. De Crespigny reached this spot in 1857.
There is little to notice, except that the banks are generally flat,
fringed with a low jungle, at the back of which the Muruts formerly
farmed. A stranger passing up the river would be apt to infer that
no population had tenanted this district for a century, as there are
no signs of cultivation, but the natives generally prefer farming in
spots not exposed to floods or intrusion. I have been out deer-snaring
in this neighbourhood, which made me notice that at the back of the
belt of jungle which lines the river banks there are signs of a former
extensive rice-planting.
Sagan on the right bank is a fine hill, perhaps 1,500 feet in height;
between it and Suñgei Damit is the low range of Rudi, running along the
edge of one of the reaches, and terminating a little below the Damit.
This tributary is now very low, there having been but little rain to
the S. E., so that I hope the discoloured water of the Limbang comes
from the Madalam branch. The water, however, is much higher than it
was when we ascended the river last February, as the Batang rapids are
concealed; these rapids are caused by a collection of logs, mixed with
sand and mud, and extend for several hundred yards.
I noticed the rocks occasionally cropping out of the banks. At the
mouth of the Damit I took the dip and strike: dip N. E. by N., angle
31·5; strike S. E. by E. There is a high peak to the southward (S.
by E.) which is apparently the end of the Molu range; it bends, the
natives say, towards the Limbang: if not, it is a separate range, but
the same that I see from the back of the Consulate at Brunei. I think
that the thousands of pigs which inhabit this jungle contribute to the
discoloration of the water: every night they descend to the banks and
rout up the soft mud into heaps, which are easily washed away by rain
or the rise of the river.
The fish we have caught are all small, though there are fine ones in
the centre of the stream where the net cannot be used: we see them
occasionally rise to the surface, causing a great commotion.
Japer tells me that the people of Adang occasionally obtain their salt
from traders of the east coast, but their usual supply is derived from
salt springs, and this is confirmed by Orang Kaya Upit. Japer adds
that, when head-hunting round the great mountain of Tilong, in the
centre of Borneo, he saw a salt spring that burst from the ground in
a volume of about fifteen inches in diameter, rising three feet, and
then spreading in a shower around: this is the source, he says, of
the Bangermasin, and the reason of its being so called (_masin_,
briny). He thinks there must be a passage all the way from the sea
to cause this salt spring, and no reasoning will convince him to the
contrary: his companions confirm _his_ belief by _their_
implicit belief. There is also a large lake at the foot of Tilong; he
saw it, but did not go near it, as it might be the residence of spirits.
At 11.20 we again got under way, and soon reached Naga Surei, the first
stone rapid: to the Orang Kaya Upit this place had a fearful interest;
some years since about a hundred of his countrymen came down the river
to trade in wax, and on their return stopped at this pebbly bank to
cook, and while a party went inland to hunt, others collected wood.
Suddenly three or four hundred Kayans came sweeping round the point,
and were on them before they could recover from their surprise; seventy
lost their lives, but thirty escaped.
We stopped for the night at 1.45, as the men pulled too late yesterday,
and we must prepare for the rapids and freshes that may be expected:
so I have sent them in inland to collect poles, and rattans for making
ropes to secure us at night during freshes. It is a good plan whilst
travelling in Borneo to make it a general rule to stop by 2 p.m., as
one is never sure of not having showery weather after that, and unless
the men have proper time to erect the tents and prepare the evening
meal whilst fine, they don’t work willingly. (This journey will show
what exceptions are required to general rules.) The sky is covered
with broken clouds, with occasional patches of blue. I am afraid we
shall have more rain, and the river is high enough already, though that
is better than being very low until we get into the interior, where the
rush of waters after heavy rain is terrific.
I think a traveller in Borneo will notice how few spots there are where
birds are to be observed; whilst writing this line a little bird has
perched itself before me, and by its song would induce me to alter
what I have written, but notwithstanding this appeal, I reiterate that
birds are but seldom seen. At certain hours and places a few pigeons
or doves, more rarely crows; along the banks an occasional wagtail or
kingfisher, and a songster in the trees above sometimes attracts your
attention. A solitary teal now and then rises from the least frequented
rivers, and the kite sails slowly above us.
Hornbills are seen round mountains, and sparrows abound in grassy
plains near the sea; some species are now and then abundant, as a white
crane (padi bird, or Kanawei), and various kinds of curlew (pimpin),
but on the whole, birds are rare. In some districts pheasants and
partridges are caught in snares, but as they are birds which merely
run along the surface of the ground, flying being almost out of the
question in the thick underwood, they are only noticed when brought in
by the natives. Monkeys in the northern part of Borneo are also rarely
observed. In the Limbang river I have seen but few: an occasional
baboon, a few wawahs in the Madalam branch, and a large reddish monkey
at about 1,000 feet up Molu. At Kina Balu I do not remember any. In
Sarawak, however, they are plentiful.
Pigs are very numerous here, and wild cattle and deer are also
abundant. We have as yet seen no traces of alligators, though in
the Madalam branch they are said to abound, and last spring I saw
a very large one; it was a disgusting-looking object, a great fat
slimy-looking thing,--a tail stuck on a hogshead. They are not,
however, dreaded, as they can obtain a very plentiful supply of food
from the pigs which constantly swim from bank to bank. Otherwise, it
would be unpleasant to have to steer a boat, as the man-devouring
reptile strikes his victim from the stern with a blow of his tail. This
happened to an unfortunate Malay in the Siol branch of the Sarawak, who
was pulling up that river with his wife in a small canoe.
The death of this man drew attention to the monster alligator I have
previously referred to, and Mr. Crookshank and Sadam, a very courageous
Malay, went down to place a bait on the banks of the Siol. When this
was done, they pulled back, Mr. Crookshank steering. They had seen
nothing of their enemy, so that Sadam jumped up, and, flourishing
his spear, began in a loud voice to defy the alligator, using very
insulting terms. Suddenly he dropt his weapon and seizing his paddle,
began pulling away with might and main, for the animal had just risen
to the surface of the water not twenty yards from the boat.
Though the steersman’s position was by no means an agreeable one, Mr.
Crookshank could not help laughing at the change of countenance of his
companion, who excused himself by saying it was the suddenness of his
challenge being accepted that made him pull away in an excited manner.
“But now,” he added, rising to his feet, “let him show himself again,
and I will not attempt to run.” He had scarcely uttered the words, when
the alligator, which was accustomed to follow boats, again rose to the
surface. There was no more boasting, but a frantic attempt to get out
of the Siol branch.
The alligator took the bait, but got rid of the long rattan fastened to
it, by accidentally or purposely winding it round a tree, then breaking
it off. However, though his body was not secured, it was most probable
he died from the lacerations of the stomach caused by his endeavours to
break the rattan, as I have not heard of his being seen since. It was
up the Siol branch that a place was found where the body of one of his
victims appeared to have been beaten, to break the bones, previously to
swallowing. The Malays say the alligators do it by repeated blows of
their ponderous head; in fact, one of the large teeth of the reptile
was found snapped off on the above-mentioned spot.
As I have told the story of Sadam’s alarm at the sudden appearance of
the alligator, I ought in justice to him, to mention an occurrence
which took place last year. He and his brother Dand were wandering
near Tanjong Po, a rocky point near the entrance of the Sarawak river,
when they came to a cave; hearing some movement inside, they entered,
and saw two huge alligators at the farther end. Knowing that these
ferocious reptiles are not very active, except on soft mud, or in the
water, they determined to attack them. They were armed with spears and
swords, and entering the cave, Sadam approached the first beast, and
actively springing clear to avoid its rush, drove his spear into the
soft side, and with his brother’s aid soon severed the head from its
body. Encouraged by their success they advanced to attack the second,
which was vainly endeavouring to escape over the broken rocks, and soon
succeeded in destroying it.
I was conversing one day with a French priest who had resided many
years in Siam, and he told me he had seen men there catch the alligator
in the following manner:--In the upper Menam, where the river is broad
and shallow, but with deep pools occasionally, the alligators are both
numerous and fierce; yet the inhabitants, who are very fond of eating
the flesh, pursue them with great courage and skill. Six or seven men
proceed to a pool where one of these reptiles is supposed to lurk, and
with long poles, sound every portion of it; if an animal be there he
is soon disturbed, and driven towards the shallower part of the river,
even to the sandbanks, where expert men throw their lassoes round his
feet and tail. When they think him somewhat exhausted, a bold hunter,
springing on the alligator’s back, places his hands over the creature’s
eyes, which then always remains quiet. A noose is quickly slipped over
his head, and the animal hauled ashore.
Alligators lay their eggs in the jungle. I remember hearing the late
Mr. Brereton tell the following story: He was one day hunting in the
jungle near the Sakarang fort, when his dogs gave tongue. He followed
up quickly, and found they had disturbed a female alligator laying her
eggs. Directly she saw him, she gave chase, and he had some difficulty
in getting away from her, though the dogs distracted her attention.
Alligators very seldom attack boats, but a case occurred in the Sambas
river, where a man was dragged out of a large prahu from among twenty
of his companions. My own party was never in danger from them but
once, when a large alligator rose within three feet of the boat; but
before he could do anything, I had put a rifle-ball into his side, as I
happened at that moment to be looking out for a shot at them on the mud
banks.
Having stopped so early, we had plenty of leisure-time on our hands;
and being seated on a pretty pebbly bank, I commenced a game of ducks
and drakes in the water, in which I was soon joined by the whole
party--it afforded them great amusement. I may here remark that you may
allow this kind of freedom with your native followers, without their
ever taking advantage of it another time. If they see you inclined
to chat, or to amuse yourself with them, they are delighted; if you
desire to be quiet, they never disturb you by any intrusion or undue
familiarity.
My cook Ahtan, who was very much annoyed last night by having to set
before me so poor a dinner as stale bread and salt fish, determined,
as he had a long afternoon before him, to devote it to cooking,
particularly as I always divided it into two portions, one for him,
and one for myself. The curry he produced was admirable, and having
secured a cucumber last night, he was enabled to add what the Malays
call a sambal, of which there are many kinds; the one he made was of
the sliced cucumber, and green and red chillies cut into fine threads;
others are of dried salt fish finely powdered, or fish roes, or
hard-boiled eggs, or the tender shoots of the bamboo, but with all, or
nearly all, red or green chillies are added. The most delicious I have
ever seen put on table was made of prawns about an inch long, partly
boiled, then seasoned with freshly prepared curry mixture, and at last
slightly moved over the fire in a frying-pan, taking care not to burn
it; if chillies are added judiciously, so as not to render it too
fiery, it causes a keen appetite to all but a confirmed invalid.
Malay cookery is sometimes very tasty; I remember spending a fortnight
in the Sultan’s palace, and we were fed daily from his kitchen;
sometimes the stewed fowls were admirable, and there was a particular
kind of rice-cake sent in very hot, which was delicious. But the
triumph of Malay cookery is to send in the sambals in perfection,
particularly the one called blachang; the best is composed of the very
finest prawns, caught, I imagine, soon after the little ones have
burst from their eggs, and pounded up with red chillies, and a little
ginger. Coarser kinds are made from the larger prawn, or even from the
smallest fish caught on the river’s banks. Sometimes the material is
first exposed to the sun in order to be completely dried, or it would
not keep or mix very well, though it is often soaked till nearly
decomposed, and that is perhaps the favourite way when it emits a
rather powerful scent, but it is very tasty. Prawns and fish are cooked
in a great variety of ways, but roasting them over a fire as abobs, is
an excellent fashion, if you first sprinkle them with curry mixture.
I have mentioned the admirable curry which Ahtan put before me; perhaps
I ought to explain how we make that dish in the Far East; it appears
a very different thing from what I have tasted in England under the
name of curry: a fowl is cut up into small pieces, and four dried and
two green onions, five chillies, half a turmeric, one teaspoonful
of coriander seed, one of white cumin, and one of sweet cumin are
provided. You must well pound the seeds, turmeric and chillies, and
slice the onions fine; then take the saucepan, and after buttering it,
slightly brown the onions, then add the pounded ingredients with just
sufficient water to reduce them to a paste, and throw in the fowl and
well mix them up, till the meat has a yellow tint, and lastly, add the
cocoa-nut milk, and boil till the curry be thoroughly cooked. I hope my
teaching is sufficiently clear to be understood, but I must add, the
cocoa-nut milk is made by scraping the meat of half of an old nut very
fine, then soaking it in warm water, and after squeezing out the milk,
throw the fibre away. I watched the whole process of cooking with great
interest, and almost fancy I could make a curry myself.
After dark, while the men were sitting in their tents, I had a talk
with the Orang Kaya Upit about the treatment of the aborigines. Now
that we are away from the influence of the rajahs, he will speak out,
and tell me anecdotes that otherwise would never reach my ears: they
are admirably illustrative of the present method of governing this
country. A few years ago, a Murut of the Limpasong village killed a
tax-gatherer. There was little doubt that the Murut could only excuse
himself by urging oppression; and that had he been seized and executed,
nothing could very well be said on the subject; but the present
Sultan thought differently: instead of killing the offending Murut,
he determined to destroy the village of about two hundred souls. He
collected a force of Malays to attack the houses from the river, and
promised the Muruts the heads, slaves, and plunder, if they attacked
by land. The Limpasong people surrounded by a couple of thousand men
had no chance; they made a slight resistance, then fled. The Muruts in
the woods fell upon them, killed about fifty, and took about the same
number of women and children prisoners; the rest escaped. The Orang
Kaya thought nothing of this; but the grievance was that the Sultan
took away all the prisoners as his slaves, and likewise defrauded the
Muruts of the most valuable plunder.
Again, in 1850, the nephew of the late Sultan was dunning a Bisaya
for an imaginary debt; the man, to escape annoyance, tried to jump
out of the verandah, when a follower of the noble wounded him with a
sharp stick. This roused his friends, and they killed the whole party.
Directly they had done so, they remembered the gravity of the act, and
formed a league with the neighbouring villages to resist the force
that was sure to attack them from the capital. They erected a stockade,
and a few of their bravest men defended it for a short time: there was
much firing and great beating of gongs, but little damage. The noise,
however, frightened the Bisayas and Muruts, and they fled; but as they
left the stockade, Orang Kaya Upit fired his musket, and killed a
Bornean. This was enough to prevent all idea of pursuit.
Now was the time for the wily Makota to settle matters: he sent a
flag of truce, and after some discussion, it was agreed that four
persons should be given up to suffer death in satisfaction for those
who were killed with the Sultan’s nephew. Now comes the infamous part
of the story. The aborigines gave up a stranger, who had married in
the country, and who had had nothing whatever to do with the original
murders: they gave him up, with his wife, his grandfather, and
grandmother, and his two children--the last were kept as slaves by
Makota, the other four executed.
I mentioned the Sultan’s nephew was dunning for an imaginary debt: I
must explain this. There is a system in this country called “serra,”
or “serra dagang,” or forced trade, which I have before referred to,
but it is carried on in the neighbourhood of the capital to an extent
unknown elsewhere. Every noble of any influence that thinks proper
goes to a tribe with some cloth, and calling the chief, orders him to
divide it among his tribe; he then demands as its price from twenty to
a hundred times its value. He does not expect to get the whole at once,
but it enables him to dun the tribe for years after. Not content with
taking their goods for these imaginary debts, they constantly seize
their young children and carry them off as slaves. The tribe who killed
the Sultan’s nephew had actually paid their serra to thirty-three
different nobles that year, and had been literally stripped of all
their food, before giving way to passion, they destroyed the whole
party above referred to.
Makota was enabled to settle the matter quickly, because without the
food they get from Limbang, the capital would starve. I little thought
that within three months of my writing the above lines, Makota would
likewise have lost his life by his infamous oppressions.
A system very much encouraged by the Borneans is to induce the Orang
Kayas to sell as slaves all the orphans of a tribe, or the children
of any poor Murut who cannot pay his debts: they are systematically
corrupting the tribes. In hearing these stories of the Sultan and his
nobles, which, I may add, I have no doubt are quite correctly and
fairly told by the Muruts, as I have often heard the same or similar
ones from the Borneans, I was reminded of the old Malay saying of the
four qualities which a ruler should possess. The Borneans, though they
know the words, have forgotten the spirit: a sovereign should be brave,
just, patient, and yet possess the power of being angry.
Old Japer makes me long to visit the great mountain of Tilong. I
asked him to give me some idea of it; he answered, “Imagine the flat
summit of Kina Balu carried higher till it ended in a peak;” it is
occasionally white at the top, but rarely remains so for many hours
after sunrise, so it does not reach the regions of perpetual snow. I
should like to organize an expedition to explore it; he says it is
quite practicable. I may even see the great diamond now in the hands of
a Malau chief, who would even give it me if I would help him to destroy
a Malay noble who attacked his house in order to get possession of
this famous stone: the Malay was driven off, not however before he had
lodged a ball in the jaw of the Malau chief. “To avenge this wound he
would give you anything.” I told him I would go to see the mountain and
the diamond, if he would take me; but he says he hopes to perform the
pilgrimage to Mecca towards the end of the year, if I will assist him.
He wants to see the land that “God made holy, and where He performed so
many wonderful works.” He fears that, as now he is an old man, he may
die without fulfilling the desire of his life.
Speaking of the Malau diamond reminds me of the famous one formerly
said to be possessed by the Sultan of Matan, for which he was offered
immense sums. Borneo, however, has always been famous for its diamonds,
which are worked at the present time by the Chinese and Malays at
Landak, a country lying farther inland than Sambas; and there are
two streams in Sarawak, the Santah, and a branch of the Quop, where
diamonds of a very fine water have been found, but those places have
not yet been regularly explored. Occasionally very pretty diamonds
are brought over from the Dutch territories to Sarawak, but I have
seldom examined them. It is never safe to trust to reports respecting
diamonds; for instance, I was once informed that a noble in Brunei had
a very large diamond which he wished to part with, but when we came to
examine it, we found it was a pinkish topaz, as large as a pullet’s
egg, and he asked a thousand pounds for it.