THE RESULTS OF THE FIGHT—DAMBOENG PAPOENDEH’S EXPEDITION—THE
MAROETAS—BACK AGAIN TO THE KAPOEAS—NIGHT FIRING—THE BEES TO THE
RESCUE—ASSISTANCE IN PERIL—THE SEPARATION—CIVILIZATION AND
BARBARISM.
“I am not sure,” La Cueille said, “that it was wise in us to let that
man escape.”
This sentence uttered the first thing in the morning was really the
continuation of the conversation held after the escape of the
head-hunter.
“Morte la bête, mort le venin,” was the opinion of the Walloon, given
in his own language for want of knowledge of its Arabic equivalent.
When it was quite daylight the occupants of the raft counted the bodies
of their assailants who had fallen under the fire of the Europeans.
There were fourteen, including the one pierced by the knife of
Schlickeisen. Their weapons and suits of mail became the spoils of the
victors; the bodies, under pressure of necessity, were let down into
the waters of the lake.
“An offering to Djata,” Dalim grinned.
When this funeral was finished and mutual congratulations had been
exchanged, the attention of our adventurers was drawn to three canoes
visible at the junction of the canal and the river. They were terribly
alarmed when they observed the Dutch flag displayed from the stern of
the first two canoes. It was certain that they were being followed and
that their experience of the past was only child’s play compared with
what they might now expect. Breathless with alarm and anxiety they
waited for further revelations.
Bapa Andong, not being able to explain the emotion of his companions,
instead of seeing danger, saw certain help from those canoes in the
event of the reappearance of the Poenans. He therefore, assisted by his
son, cried out lustily three times, “Come this way, quick! ahoy!”
The reader will certainly have divined who had brought those canoes
into the lake. It was Damboeng Papoendeh, whom he saw depart from Kwala
Kapoeas and who now appeared on the scene. The young chief in his
intense eagerness had set out for soengei Mantangei, and had employed
the utmost expedition in his pursuit of the deserters. There he had
heard of the struggle with the snake and the subsequent firing at the
male inhabitants and became convinced that the fugitives had sailed up
the Mantangei in order to reach the Doesson.
Although inclined at first to disbelieve this statement, the people
were so positive and circumstantial that he could not doubt further. He
therefore resolved to sail for the same destination.
After travelling on the Mantangei for a whole day he arrived at a small
kampong called Takisan. Here he was obliged to stop in consequence of
the place being under the ban of the maroetas.
Maroetas means unclean, and a house, a village, or even a whole
district may be proscribed and pronounced unclean in consequence of
being the scene of death, infectious disease or any contaminating
influence. When a house has become maroetas it is simply closed and the
ladder removed from it. Its inhabitants dare not leave it nor may they
receive visitors. If a village or district has become maroetas all its
roads and pathways are blocked and may not be opened under penalty of
death.
Thus it happened that Damboeng Papoendeh found the soengei Mantangei
closed by a double rattan cable, the ends of which were guarded on
shore by armed men. He knew that force would be useless here, so he at
once gave orders for the route to be reversed, his canoes were turned
around and the backward journey commenced with the utmost speed. In
order to make up for lost time they rowed onwards night and day without
intermission, until they arrived in the neighborhood of lake Ampang.
Here they rested, wholly unconscious of their proximity to the objects
of their pursuit.
The wind was blowing hard from the north-west and considerably impeded
and endangered their journey; Damboeng Papoendeh was therefore obliged
to give way to the remonstrances of his men and consent to pass the
rest of the night moored in one of the creeks. After this repose he
intended to proceed to kotta Baroe with all possible despatch to seek
news of the fugitives. His plan was to row past them and by lying in
ambush further on capture them easily, with the assistance of the
natives. The plan seemed very feasible and its simplicity might have
given him every chance of success, but for an accident which intervened
and upset all his calculations.
It might have been about three in the morning when suddenly a piercing
lēēēh lèlèlèlèlè ouiiiit was heard very close by, coming from a
westerly direction. This was followed by a sharp rifle fire. Damboeng
now knew that the men he was seeking were near and fighting either with
the inhabitants of the kampong, as had been the case at soengei
Mantangei, or with head-hunters, who might be expected to infest this
locality.
The night was passed in intense impatience, and as soon as daylight
appeared he perceived the mouth of the canal leading to the lake. He
was now positive that the drama played on the preceding night must have
taken place there and he did not lose a moment in speeding in that
direction.
Nothing remarkable or suspicious was found in the channel; but upon
arriving at the lake they saw far away on the eastern shore a large
raft covered by rattan trusses, whose occupants seemed to invite them
to approach, their cry being distinctly audible.
Damboeng ordered one of his canoes to remain behind to guard the mouth
of the channel, with strict injunctions to suffer nothing to pass. He
then sailed with the other two canoes along the western bank of the
lake in order to examine every angle and creek while making this
circuitous progress towards the raft on the eastern shore.
Bapa Andong, foreseeing the danger of this manœuvre, wished to signal
the canoes to return; but Dalim imperatively closed his mouth and
whispered something into his ear, giving him at the same time a taste
of a small dagger between his ribs. The Dayak looked frightened at his
compatriot; he observed how Dalim’s companions, rifle or mandauw in
hand, surrounded him with anxious faces while his own mates remained
almost indifferent to the scene. He could not understand it at all, but
it became evident to him that for the present he had better remain
silent.
The two canoes on the other side still kept close to the western bank.
Suddenly a fearful cry came forth from both vessels and their occupants
were seen to throw up their arms and wave them about desperately. Some
of them jumped into the lake and tried to save themselves by swimming
as fast as they could, diving repeatedly and crying out, “badjanji!
badjanji!” the bees, the bees.
They had been furiously attacked by the insects whose nests had been so
mercilessly robbed the night before. Stifled by the smoke and carried
onward by the storm the bees had fallen to the ground stupefied. On the
following morning they had returned to their old haunts in search of
the nests whence they had been so rudely driven, and finding them all
removed became infuriated. This is always the case; for several days
after the ingathering of these harvests of wax and honey, it is
extremely dangerous to approach the trees where the nests formerly
hung, and of this fact Damboeng Papoendeh and his followers now
received forcible confirmation. They had innocently approached the spot
when suddenly clouds of bees swarmed down upon them and furiously
attacked them with their envenomed stings.
The Europeans on the raft looked on in speechless astonishment at the
panic which seemed to have overtaken the occupants of the advancing
canoes, but by reason of the distance had not the slightest idea of
what had happened. When, however, they saw Dalim jump with delight and
heard what kind of enemies had attacked their pursuers a selfish
sensation of gratitude took possession of them. They could not help
rejoicing at the denouement which had thus prevented a sanguinary
encounter. When, however, they began to realize the danger to which
their pursuers were exposed their hearts melted and they felt almost
ashamed at idly looking on while their fellow-creatures were in their
death struggles. Already the two Swiss had sprung into a djoekoeng to
assist the unfortunates, in whom they no longer beheld enemies but
suffering brethren. The Dayak, however, conjured them to remain where
they were unless they wished to rush into certain death. The wisdom of
this counsel soon became manifest, for the wild hordes of bees, not
satisfied with their primary revenge on the occupants of the canoes,
began to disperse about the lake and to assail every living thing they
encountered.
Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen had already received some painful stings
on their hands and faces which sent them flying back to the raft. Any
assistance to the sufferers was consequently out of the question. They,
themselves, in order to escape further attacks were compelled to light
fires and envelope themselves in dense smoke.
Nothing further was heard from aboard the two canoes which, carried on
by the current of the lake, quietly drifted towards the mouth of the
channel beyond the reach of the revengeful insects. As soon as Dalim
and Bapa Andong perceived that the fury of the bees was abated and that
they were flying back to the tree, they resolved to approach the
drifting boats in order to learn what could be gathered from their
appearance and appointment. Johannes, Wienersdorf, and the three
hirelings accompanied them. These last carried an abundance of green
branches wherewith to kindle a fire in the event of its becoming
necessary to protect themselves with smoke.
The spectacle presented when they approached the canoes was
heartrending. Four of the occupants were found struggling in the last
agonies of death and exhibiting strong symptoms of delirium; while the
others had their arms, hands, faces, nay, every part of their body
which had been exposed to the fury of the bees, swollen to such a
degree as to render their aspect quite unlike that of human beings. All
were senseless from the intense pain caused by the innumerable
poisonous stings.
In order to be safe from a renewed attack the boats were taken into
mid-channel. When safely there they all, and especially the two
Europeans, set to work to render assistance. They gave the sufferers
water to drink, rubbed their swollen faces and limbs with cocoanut oil
and used every effort to lessen their agony. While they were thus
occupied, the boat which had been left behind by Damboeng Papoendeh to
guard the canal came to the aid of their fellow voyagers. Medical
assistance seemed to be the first necessity. To secure this the return
journey was immediately decided upon. The twelve occupants of the
sentinel canoe were divided among the three boats and the flotilla
started homewards.
Dalim proposed to accompany them as far as the Kapoeas, thus assisting
them through the intricate navigation of the canal. Ere the outlet was
reached four of the sufferers died and the condition of the three
others, including Damboeng Papoendeh, had become extremely dangerous.
Dalim therefore strongly advised the natives to row with all despatch
to the nearest kampong, where they would be sure to obtain further
assistance.
Before parting, Wienersdorf attended once more to the wounded and
supplied them each with a cocoanut shell filled with water to quench
their burning thirst. Johannes in the meantime took possession of the
Dutch flags carried by the two largest boats, protesting that he should
make excellent use of them. He also secured the written instructions
entrusted to Damboeng Papoendeh. These he found, with the official seal
duly attached, safely stowed away in a bamboo box under the cushion of
the chief. The boats were then left to the current and rapidly
disappeared.
The first thing to be done after their departure was to bring the raft,
which now carried its full cargo, from the lake into the river. This
done they shook hands cordially and the clumsy craft, separated from
its moorings, soon drifted away, carried along by the swift current.
Our adventurers then took to their own boat, planting one of the Dutch
flags on it, sent a lusty hurrah after the raft, dipped their oars in
the water and soon disappeared from the view of the friends whose
labors and troubles they had so bravely shared.
Johannes now reminded his comrades that since their track had become
known everything depended upon speed. They owed their present
deliverance to the merest accident, a second one might not perhaps
occur so opportunely. He calculated that they would have an advantage
of five days, in which they might with a little more exertion cover a
large distance and perhaps get beyond the reach of the Dutch. They
therefore resolved to keep to the oars days and night.
The boat with which the Chinaman Baba Poetjieng had furnished the
deserters was a splendid vessel. It was slenderly built and had a sharp
bow which enabled it to glide smoothly and easily over the water.
“Thank goodness! that is over,” La Cueille said, when they were resting
in the afternoon during the preparation of their dinner. “Events follow
each other rapidly I must say. The day before yesterday we had one
dance and last night another similar entertainment. It seems to me that
all the head-hunters of Borneo are following us.”
“Nonsense,” Johannes replied. “Those of last night were the same ones
that attacked us before. Do you imagine that they ever lost sight of
us? Not a bit of it.”
“But who invented the stratagem of enticing them into that narrow
passage, and whence came that light so suddenly? It seemed almost like
a miracle.”
“For all this you may offer a prayer on behalf of Bapa Andong,”
Johannes answered. “He had pounded a large quantity of rosin during the
day and spread it on a sieve of rattan above a layer of oil contained
in a plate. This he kept in readiness to light up with a little flame
which I contributed in the shape of a box of matches.”
“But oh!” Wienersdorf cried, “what a destruction of human lives! This
is a dreadful journey and who knows when and how it will end yet!”
“Pray don’t let us dwell upon that subject just now,” said Johannes.
“We are in the boat and must sail with her.”
Schlickeisen now tried to give the conversation a different turn. “What
a beautiful lake that seemed,” said he, “into which we guided the raft.
I felt enraptured at the first view. That smooth, unrippled surface,
reflecting the surrounding landscape and the sky above it so pure and
blue; those curves and creeks which appeared almost lost beneath the
dark verdure of the virgin woods; those capes and promontories which
seemed longing to meet in the transparent fluid; and though last, not
least, that wild forest, like a frame around a mirror, with its
fantastic creepers and winding plants, the wood-giants defining their
dark yet shining foliage against that lovely sky and intermingling with
wonderful orchids and beautiful flowers—all these presented such a
charming picture that I almost remained spellbound for the moment.”
Wienersdorf, who had been seated, lost in meditation, seemed greatly
attracted by this description. He gradually lifted his head, looked at
the speaker and listened attentively. He appeared to have taken leave
of his melancholy thoughts and his face reflected the truth of the
words spoken by his companion.
“Oh, yes! that lake was indeed lovely,” he said, when the other had
ceased speaking. “Especially lovely in its solitude. Everything shone
and glittered under the rays of the tropical sun like diamonds just
escaped from the hands of the Creator.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Johannes.
“What are you laughing at?” Wienersdorf asked, somewhat vexed.
“Continue, continue!” Johannes said, still laughing. “Pray don’t allow
your poetical strains to be disturbed by prosaical me. I like to listen
to you.”
“I felt exalted,” Wienersdorf continued, “especially as those shores
are not poisoned by the smoke of factories; no steamboats ruffle the
smooth surface of the lake; no steam-whistle breaks the calm and holy
silence of its banks, and no human crowd pursuing gain and practising
usury. One felt there alone, alone under the eye of God.”
“All very fine! and I wish I could speak like that,” Johannes
interrupted sharply. “How blind man becomes when he is indulging in
poetical rhapsody, or rather how differently he views things from what
they really are. True, we have neither seen the smoke of factories nor
heard the whistle of flying locomotives or steamboats on the lake; no
industrious manufacturers are there pushing their way amid restless
merchants; but those are subjects more for lamentation than for
rapture. Instead of them, what did we find? In place of the dense smoke
of factories we saw the spiral wreaths of wood fires, at which the
murderer was roasting the captured heads of human beings in order to
remove their flesh. Instead of a steam-whistle we heard the war cry of
those fiends as they sprang upon their sleeping prey, that cry which
serves as a warning of death, from which the attacked can only escape
by becoming a murderer himself. And you dare compare all this to a
diamond just escaped from the hands of the Creator and say that you
felt yourself as if in the presence of God? Is that all the glory you
give the Almighty? What about the savages who came against us with
their naked sword? What about the Dayaks who surrounded us on the raft?
Were they not human beings? Alone, and alone with God! No, we were
undoubtedly brought into contact with men, and men of the lowest type.
Some of them brutes, eager for murder; men who delight in the sound of
the death-rattle and the gurgling of blood.”
“Stop, stop!” interrupted Wienersdorf. “I don’t wish to defend
head-hunting. I fully endorse your abhorrence of it. But the other
Dayaks whom we have seen are surely men who do their share in the labor
of life. Those people are content with an existence passed, for months
together, in a wilderness where they toil to rob the forest of its
treasures—men like Bapa Andong.”
“Bapa Andong and his class have their faults, as I could show you,”
said Johannes; “but even they are an exception to the general rule. You
will find few rich Dayaks, and this fact, considered with the abundant
resources of their forests, will serve to prove what a poor,
improvident race they are. Look at their dwellings; they are the most
miserable hovels on earth; notice their dress which, when a Dayak is in
full costume, consists only of dirty and miserable rags mostly woven
from bark and scarcely different from the skin which an animal has for
its sole covering. You will have ample opportunities of seeing this in
the upper countries.”
“What you tell me is very deplorable,” Wienersdorf remarked somewhat
bitterly. “Man is almost a curse to this beautiful island.”
“On the contrary, the country is the curse of man,” Schlickeisen
answered vehemently. “The country is too rich, it yields its treasures
without compelling man to fixed labor. He has only to stoop to pick
them up. This makes him lazy; and laziness, as you know, is the root of
all evil.”
This was touching the wound which gnaws at the existence of human
beings in this, the loveliest, richest and largest of Holland’s
possessions. During all the years that the Dutch have held Borneo and
have jealously tried to keep other nations away from it, they have done
nothing whatever to stimulate the population into activity.
In the meantime dinner being concluded and the hour for rest gone by,
the men resumed their oars with renewed energy and the journey was
continued.