A DRUNKEN MAN’S TALK—ON THE SEA—JOHANNES UP A TREE—UP THE
KAHAJAN—AN ÆOLIAN HARP—THE SOENGEI TROESSAN—IN THE DAHASAN—A WOOD
SPECTRE—A MOSQUITO CHARM—FURTHER PLANS—LOOK OUT FOR YOUR HEAD—SUITS
OF BLACK.
The two Swiss were indignant at La Cueille’s unreasonable exclamation
and even Johannes was furiously angry. A single look at the Walloon,
however, explained the cause. During the time they had been planning
their escape he had faithfully kept his word and had not tasted a drop
of spirits. He had left untouched the rations of gin which in
accordance with the rules of the service had been served out to him.
Deeming it a pity to leave good spirits unclaimed, he had asked the
Colonel’s permission to receive his daily rations and to save them up
for use as a liniment for swollen feet. This permission was necessary
as the regulations required every soldier to drink his allowance of gin
from the hand of the sutler. The Colonel, knowing how well La Cueille
liked his drop, suspected that the Walloon wished to accumulate a
sufficient quantity for a regular drinking bout, and in the hope of
detecting him ordered his feet to be uncovered for examination. They
were found to be red and swollen, the result of a ligature which he had
purposely placed above the knee. Accordingly his request was granted
and he saved all his gin, which by the time it was taken on board the
canoe had accumulated to about two pints. On the evening of his escape,
while lying down on the boat, he produced the bottle and swallowed a
couple of mouthfuls. Oh! that was delicious. How it warmed him! A
second draught followed the first. “Train de plaisir de ma bouche à mon
estomac,” the Walloon muttered as he began to feel himself in a
pleasantly excited condition. What a time they were in getting that
coffin on board! He must regale himself while waiting. Then he finished
the first bottle.
At length the coffin arrived. “Poeah! what an odor! enough to give one
the fever! Well, the rich drink champagne as a safeguard; gin may
perhaps have the same effect.” So he continued imbibing until he
finished the second bottle.
When the priestesses arrived the funeral cortege began to move. La
Cueille sat looking on, unmoved and perfectly quiet. Trees and shrubs
passed by in the midnight gloom like spectres. There stood the dark
outlines of the fort. The voice of the sentry was plainly heard, crying
the usual “Werda”—“Who goes there?” Presently there came the order to
lay to. When the cortege stopped obedient to this command, a sergeant
approached to examine the boats, but as soon as he discovered that one
of them bore a case of cholera he stepped back frightened and gave the
word to proceed. A few more strokes and the vessels had passed the
pier. At this point the drunkard could not restrain himself and he
burst out with the cry,
“Enfoncés les Hollandais, les têtes de fromage!”
“Beseai goeloeng,” shouted Johannes—“Row fast,” as he sprang forward to
stop the Walloon’s mouth. When the order to return came a second time
from the fort, La Cueille, now mad with drink, repeated his salutation
and before any one could interfere seized a rifle and fired in the
direction of the fortification. Then came a flash, followed by the
discharge of a cannon, which rent the air like a thunderbolt. The two
canoes shook and darted forwards carried by the strong tide into the
middle of the wide stream. In the boat of the priestesses two men were
killed and one wounded, but the deserters remained unhurt. The
frightened oarsmen pulled with all their force, the white foam flying
up from under the prow, and their speed was maintained until daybreak,
when the fugitives saw before them the open sea!
When the eastern sky became decked in purple Wienersdorf took his
glasses and scoured the horizon. Two cruising canoes were seen far
away, going in a north-westerly direction, as if making for the mouth
of the Barito. Further off he saw the smoke of a steamer but could not
determine her course. In the south-west was a trading-canoe very much
like their own, going toward the Lesser Dayak river. As soon as they
were clear of the mouth of the river they steered westward. One of the
men advised them to land for the double purpose of burying the body and
of covering their canoe with palm leaves in order to elude the
observation of the cruisers. The Europeans thought it much more simple,
instead of burying the body to drop it overboard, all the protests of
the Dayaks notwithstanding. They, however, landed and cut a sufficient
quantity of leaves to cover the canoe so that it could not be
distinguished from the green herbage of the coast. They then resumed
their voyage and in the hope of remaining quite unobserved kept near
the shore, the rowers deftly handling their oars in such a way as to
prevent any reflection on the surface of the water. They resolved to
enter the mouth of the Kahajan, to conceal themselves in the first
creek they should reach and to wait until evening should close in ere
they continued the voyage westward. Everything succeeded precisely as
they wished. The cruisers sailed away to the mouth of the Lesser Dayak,
where they anchored. The other vessel observed in the south-east proved
to be a trader. Our fugitives thus disembarrassed, rowed vigorously
onwards and reached the mouth of the Kahajan by mid-day. They soon
found a convenient creek where they concealed the canoe under some
drooping shrubs; and as they were thoroughly tired out, sought repose
in order to recruit their strength for the work before them.
They had been lying down perhaps a couple of hours when they were
roused by the discharge of a cannon. They all leaped to their feet and
Johannes with cat-like celerity clambered into a cedar tree close at
hand, which commanded an extended view seaward. What he saw was far
from reassuring. A number of canoes shot out from the Lesser Dayak and
signalled the cruising vessels. These immediately weighed their anchors
and made sail to meet the canoes. The trader had altered her course,
spread more canvas and was keeping close to the wind. She had also
begun to employ her oars, endeavoring by the aid of vigorous rowing to
avoid being overhauled. A wild pursuit of her now commenced; but
although the cruisers carried as much canvas as they could set, the
pursued vessel seemed to keep her advantage. A couple of shots danced
along the tops of the waves, but the diminutive guns of the Dutch
Indian cruisers could not carry far enough. Johannes at last could
distinguish nothing more than a couple of dim specks on the horizon. He
therefore descended and with a sigh attacked La Cueille, in
reprehension of his culpable indiscretion.
“See there,” he said, “the consequences of your drunken cry. Beastly
sot! They are on our track already.”
“But what did you see?” asked Wienersdorf.
Johannes related what he had seen. “The canoe they are pursuing,” added
he, “is Baba Poetjieng’s smuggler. What may not happen when they
overtake him? Before twenty-four hours have passed, there will be two
hundred boats cruising along the coast. I wish that drunken Walloon——”
Wienersdorf stopped him, observing, “Of what use is it to rave or to
reproach? We must act. Now what are we to do?”
“The whole plan has collapsed. We cannot proceed along the southern
coast;—can we, Dalim?” he continued, addressing one of the Dayaks.
“No mistake about that; the way there is blocked.”
He consulted for a few minutes with his countrymen and then pointing
with his hand to the north, said—“There!”
“Up the Kahajan?” asked Johannes.
“No; we could not pass there. They will certainly examine the Kahajan.”
“What then?”
“Through the Troessan.”
“Won’t they overhaul that?” asked Johannes.
“Certainly; but we must hurry on. The soengei Dahasan opens into the
Troessan and communicates with the soengei Basarang, which joins the
Kapoeas on the north side of the fort. Not a soul knows that region,
but I noticed the fact sometime ago when I was there cutting rattan.
Let us hasten: once in Kapoeas we are safe; they won’t look for us in
that direction.”
They were all convinced of the prudence of this advice. Not an instant
was to be lost; even this way now projected might at any moment become
impassable. No resource would then be left to them, save either to
commit suicide or to throw themselves into the hands of their pursuers.
They took the canoe from its hiding-place, pushed it into the swiftly
flowing stream and were soon going at a rapid pace.
Suddenly the Europeans dropped their oars and the Dayaks, following
their example, stopped rowing. What was that? Sounds were heard like
those given forth by an æolian harp; now far away, soft and melodious,
but yet distinct; then again so near that the music seemed to be
suspended over the canoe. There was a perfect harmony in the sounds,
which varied between the murmur of a slight breeze and the forcible
rush of a hurricane through some gigantic stringed instrument. The
Europeans looked aghast at each other, unable to account for these
mysterious strains. La Cueille crossed himself and muttered “Etoile de
la mer, priez pour nous.” When the Dayaks perceived the anxious,
frightened looks of their white companions they burst into loud
laughter. For them it was an ordinary phenomenon which they called
rioeng, noise, or sometimes riwoet haroesan, breath of the stream.
Dalim related a legend which ascribes these sounds to unearthly music
being played by some damsels drowned in that stream by the ire of
Djata, the Crocodile God. He also added the information that the
missionaries gave another explanation of the phenomenon. They attribute
it to the friction of two currents—one, the advancing tide from the
sea, and the other, the down-flowing water of the stream. Of course
there are local conditions which influence the amount of friction. The
correctness of this theory is proved by the fact that the sound is only
heard at certain points where the sea meets the swift river water.
This music accompanied the fugitives into the mouth of the Troessan
which they reached toward evening when nothing more was heard of the
æolian harp.
“Oef!” cried La Cueille, “I feel lighter now. It seemed as if ghosts
were playing music around the canoe. It would drive me mad if I had to
stand it all night long.”
“What are you jabbering about?” muttered one of the Dayaks; and leaning
over to Johannes he whispered in his ear.
Johannes now recommended them to keep silent. In a subdued tone he
proceeded to explain that they were in a narrow stream, where they were
likely to meet other canoes. If their conversation, conducted in a
foreign language, were to be overheard, it would certainly betray them
and lead to their being pursued.
They continued rowing in silence, exerting all their might, so that by
eight o’clock that evening they reached the mouth of soengei Dahasan.
They still rowed on a considerable time until Dalim ordered a halt. He
advised them to wait for daylight, as they might easily lose their way
among the numerous rivulets found here. He, however, had other reasons
for suspending the journey. They were all fatigued and needed rest.
They had not partaken of any food for hours, nor had they slept.
“But,” asked Wienersdorf, “is it safe to pass the night here?”
“We are perfectly safe,” answered Dalim, “no Dayak will venture here
and the Colonel is not likely to seek us here. He is busy following
Baba Poetjieng’s canoe and may be glad to find himself at the mouth of
the Lesser Dayak by to-morrow night. As I said before it is impossible
for them to guess that we are here, since nobody knows of this
passage.”
“You said no Dayak would venture here. Why is that?”
“In 1859 Pembekel Soelil was killed here by the bursting of a cannon
while defending his benting against the Dutch. To save his body from
the hands of the Dutchmen, his people buried him in soengei Dahasan
near the spot we have just passed. Since that time this soengei is
guarded by a pampahilep and woe to him who enters the forbidden
territory.”
“Pray, what is a pampahilep?”
“A horrible forest ghost who kills every one within his reach. But this
pampahilep is a female and whenever she gets hold of a man she compels
him to marry her, only to strangle him afterward.”
“Brr! Quelle Canaille!” the Walloon muttered.
“But you are not afraid?” Schlickeisen asked the Dayak.
“Ah!” said he, “I invented the story myself, in order to secure a
secret way for smuggling salt, powder and lead. Now everybody keeps my
female pampahilep at a respectful distance.”
“Do Dayaks believe everything so implicitly?”
“They are very superstitious. There are several spots in their country
which they believe to be haunted and a Dayak would not venture near
them for all the money in the world.”
“But,” said Schlickeisen, “you told us just now that in order to
prevent the body of Soelil from falling into the hands of the Dutch it
was buried here. Do the Dutch mutilate bodies?”
“They forbid the Dayaks to take heads, but they don’t mind taking the
heads of the Dayaks.”
“Have you ever seen them do it?”
“No, but it is known among us. I have even heard that they put those
heads in pickle!”
“Nonsense!” cried Johannes. “It certainly has happened once or twice
that the head of some notorious outlaw has been forwarded to
Bandjermasin for identification, but it was invariably buried
afterward.”
“I wish you were all further with your ghosts and dead men’s heads,”
exclaimed La Cueille. “I shall be dreaming of them all night.”
After securely mooring their boat their first care was to provide a
meal, as they had scarcely tasted anything during the preceding
twenty-four hours. Some dry branches were collected and they soon had a
good fire to cook their food. Thanks to Baba Poetjieng, they found some
green bamboo stalks in the canoe. These the Dayaks cut up into small
cylinders, which after being filled with moistened rice and closed with
pieces of wood were thrown on the fire. After some fifteen or twenty
minutes the bamboo tubes burst asunder with a loud report. The Dayaks
then withdrew them from the fire, opened them and spread the cooked
rice upon large leaves.
“By Jove!” Wienersdorf said, “this is convenient. We need not fear the
breaking of pots or pans, since our supply is always ready.”
“Yes,” laughed Johannes, “and the store is well stocked.”
“I don’t know that,” remarked Schlickeisen, “during all our journey I
have not seen a single bamboo.”
“Nor will you find any in all the lower country. The bamboos require a
dry soil. Later on, however, we shall meet with plenty of them.”
In the meanwhile another Dayak mixed some lombok and salt in an earthen
vessel and Johannes broiled some of the dried fish. The meal was now
ready, its preparation had not cost much trouble and the viands were of
the simplest, but hungry as they were after a day’s fast, they found
everything most delicious.
When they had all finished they disposed themselves to sleep. The
natives were soon snoring, but our Europeans could not close an eye
owing to the swarms of mosquitoes which surrounded them. The southern
coast of Borneo is so low that the country is inundated at each flood.
As a first result of this periodical visitation, there is a
constantly-increasing formation of marshes, in which myriads of
mosquitoes are hatched. Our fugitives had now to cultivate the
immediate acquaintance of these insects. There had been a little
trouble with them at the fort; but there, sheltered within the
buildings and additionally protected by the mosquito curtains, they had
been able to defy the venomous swarms and to enjoy undisturbed sleep.
Here in the native woods no protection was to be found. At the imminent
risk of exploding their gunpowder, the persecuted travellers kindled a
large fire in their boat in the hope of repelling the aggressive
insects by raising clouds of smoke. But all was in vain. Thousands upon
thousands of blood-suckers came and went, and soon the faces, necks and
hands of the Europeans were covered with bites, the irritation of which
drove all sleep from their eyes. Finally they rose in despair, ranged
themselves around the fire and endeavored by waving branches and leaves
to keep their enemies at a distance.
“Ah! those cursed insects!” said La Cueille, “suppose we try a mosquito
jacket.”
A mosquito jacket means in the Dutch Indies getting so intoxicated that
one becomes insensible to both buzz and sting. This is really the
origin of that craving for drink so commonly met with among the
soldiers.
“Have you already forgotten your lesson?” Wienersdorf asked in a stern
voice. “Not a drop of liquor shall you have.”
“I would rather throw it into the river,” added Johannes.
La Cueille was silenced, but a vehement shake of his branch indicated
that he was not grateful for the rebuke.
“Since it is impossible to sleep,” said Schlickeisen, “we may as well
review our situation which has completely changed through our being
unable to escape by sea. The question now is, what are we to do next?”
“Dalim pointed to the north just now,” observed Johannes. “That is our
way, but how are we to get through? The slightest imprudence may prove
fatal to us.”
“Speak. You have lived in the country longer than any of us, and must
be our guide.”
“You must have noticed that I was talking to Dalim this evening,”
continued Johannes. “Well this is the result of our conversation. We
will try to get into the Kapoeas river through soengei Basarang. We
then sail up that river as far as we can, cross the Kaminting mountains
and make for the north coast. Don’t imagine, however, that all will go
as smoothly as I plan it.”
“No, no, we understand that,” Wienersdorf said, smiling; “still we
should like to have a sketch of what we are likely to encounter.”
“I really cannot tell you,” proceeded Johannes, “but we have to be
extremely cautious. While we are in the lower country we have
everything to fear from the Dutch. Let them only suspect that we are
here and we shall be hunted down like wild animals. When we get into
the upper country it will be yet more dangerous, for if the natives
only guess that we are Europeans we are lost. A European skull means
four thousand florins.”
“What do you say?” cried La Cueille, terrified, as he raised his hands
to his head. “Is this then worth so much? I did not know it. It pays
then to take care of it.”
“You are joking, are you not?” Schlickeisen asked, impatiently.
“By no means. The skull of Colonel George Muller, who was killed in
1825, while travelling across Borneo, was actually sold for that amount
and is still preserved as a valuable relic by the Olo Ot Panganese. The
skulls of the Europeans belonging to the Onrust captured by the Dayaks
in 1859, were all disposed of at the same rate. The skull of the
commander proved a mine of wealth. After removing the flesh they filled
it with dry katjang beans and immersed it in water. The beans,
swelling, caused the skull to burst into numerous fragments, the
smallest of which fetched two hundred reals.”
“What do they do with these skulls?”
“Well you might almost call them articles de luxe. You will see plenty
of them in the upper country. Each benting or fort is ornamented with
grinning skulls fixed on the points of the palisades. There is not a
house in which you will not find some skulls tied together like a
rosary and affixed as an ornament to the walls. When a young man
proposes for a young woman her friends do not ask how much money the
aspirant has, but how many heads he can furnish. Do you understand it
now?”
“I indeed perceive that it will be ‘look out for your head.’”
“Quite so; that will be our motto, Look out for your head! The country
abounds in head-hunters. I dare say you have heard of them.”
“Certainly; but I have always thought that the reports are grossly
exaggerated.”
“On the contrary the narratives do not give a tenth part of the
reality,” continued Johannes, “for the simple reason that the natives
seek to keep head-hunting a profound secret from the Dutch.”
“Now then, as a first step in the direction of safety, we must part
with our military attire. That alone is sufficient to betray us. Baba
Poetjieng foreseeing the danger, provided us each with a suit of
clothes. These we can examine when it is daylight. We shall find our
new costumes suited to their purpose and the sooner we assume them the
better.”
“How funny I shall look,” said La Cueille, “dressed in an ewah.”
“It will not be in harmony with your white skin I dare say.”
“It is more suited to your coffee-colored carcass,” rejoined the
Walloon.
“I—that reminds me. You cannot possibly retain those white skins of
yours. They would at once betray you. I wish you all had my
coffee-colored complexion. I must speak to Dalim, he will surely think
of something.”
“You will see,” said the Walloon, laughing. “We shall all have to put
on black suits.”
“Very probably,” said Johannes, drily, “and yours will become you well.
So send at once for your tailor and order suits of black for three.”