SOLITUDE—KWALA HIANG—THE ATTACK—RIFLE AND CANNON FIRE—THE GARRISON
TAKES FLIGHT—THE PILLAGE—AN ILLUMINATION—THE COMMANDER OF KWALA
KAPOEAS IN PURSUIT—HIS SEARCH AT SOENGEI NANING AND SOENGEI
MANTANGEI—HIS ARRIVAL AT KWALA HIANG—THE PURSUIT CONTINUED—A
GIGANTIC MAP—KOTTA BAROE—OUR TRAVELLERS AGAIN ON THE WAY—THE LEGEND
OF THE ELEPHANT—POENANS! POENANS!
Three days and two nights passed without any incident. It seemed as if
the island had been depopulated. Not a single human being had they
encountered during all this time, not a boat had been noticed, not even
a cloud of smoke to indicate the presence of a hut in which some native
was struggling for bare life. Now and then a troop of monkeys emerged
from the borders of the forest, to disappear again immediately amidst
the green foliage, uttering cries of terror and making the most horrid
grimaces. Occasionally, too, a large fish disturbed the smoothness of
the water and rose to view. These were all they saw to assure them that
animal life had not fled from Borneo.
They had rowed on without stopping. The canoe steered by Dalim had
passed through several cut-offs, and by thus avoiding many curves of
the river had made considerable headway. The third night was half spent
when the travellers approached Kwala Hiang.
This fort had been built at the mouth of the Hiang by order of the
Dutch government, to prevent marauding expeditions into the Kapoeas
country. It was armed with four small cannon and garrisoned by fifty
Dayaks of Kwala Kapoeas.
Dalim had repeatedly conversed in whispers with Johannes in reference
to the danger which was to be apprehended at this place. It was
doubtless quite impossible that the garrison could be already informed
of the escape of the four European soldiers. Yet they all knew that
Dalim and his Dayak companions were under police supervision. Everybody
at Kwala Hiang would recognize them; and if so discovered, the chief,
Tomonggong Patti Singa Djaja, would certainly arrest them and send them
back to Kwala Kapoeas. To avoid the fort and thus elude discovery was
also impracticable, as no cut-off existed at this part of the river by
which they might diverge and reach the stream at some point further up.
Johannes was lost in meditation. At last he proposed to make for Kwala
Hiang during the night at as late an hour as possible. The Dayak
garrison would then be sound asleep and the canoes might probably
succeed in passing unobserved.
This resolution was adopted; but to prepare for emergencies, Johannes
and La Cueille occupied themselves in attaching the two small cannon
taken from soengei Naning to a couple of solid pieces of wood, their
muzzles pointing landwards. They were both charged with blank
cartridges.
It was intensely dark when they reached the fortifications. The oars
were carefully and almost noiselessly handled. Dalim steered the canoe
close to the covered bank on which the fort was situated. They
proceeded slowly and had nearly reached the borders of the wood when
suddenly a voice was heard, crying,
“Hullo, what do these people want here?” and before any answer could be
given a shot was fired which went through the roofing of the canoe.
The die was cast.
“They are firing on the Dutch!” Johannes cried out loudly in the Dayak
language. “This kotta is now occupied by insurrectionists! Forward,
attack these marauders! Fire, fire into them!”
La Cueille, at his command, fired both guns which, without doing any
harm, illuminated the dark night with a long ray of light and sounded
like thunder as the reverberations echoed among the thickly-studded
banks. Johannes and Dalim, having four rifles at their disposal,
discharged them in the direction of the fortification and almost
immediately reloaded them. The two Swiss opened a smart fire with their
repeating rifles, which inspired the Dayaks with the belief that a
considerable force, ten times stronger than it really was, had entered
into action.
Our adventurers kept up the firing with vigor until about a hundred
charges had been spent, when Johannes gave the order to cease. Not a
sound was heard. The Dayak garrison had been aroused from their sleep
by the firing, but these gentry are never remarkable for bravery when
exposed to fire-arms. So instead of seeking their own weapons they had
become panic-stricken and had fled through the gate in the rear of the
fortification, whence they escaped into the forest. So hurried was the
departure of these courageous defenders that several of them nearly
broke their necks in descending the ladder leading to the exterior,
their flight being hastened by hearing Johannes issue his commands in
Dutch. This made them imagine that they were attacked by Dutchmen; a
fear confirmed by the sentries, who positively declared that they had
seen the Dutch flag flying in the foremost canoe.
Perfect silence reigned in the fortification. A few cries of terror
only were heard from the forest in the distance. La Cueille now charged
both guns with a handful of rifle bullets and discharged them in the
direction whence the sounds came. The bullets flew whistling through
the forest and lent wings to the retreating fugitives.
Johannes then stepped on shore while the others sat ready, rifle in
hand, to cover the retreat of their friend. He soon returned to inform
them that the fortification was empty. With the exception of two Dayaks
left behind to guard the boat the whole party now leaped ashore. The
Europeans immediately closed and barred the gate at the back of the
fortification. Three of them kept a sharp lookout so as to prevent a
possible return of the garrison; while Johannes, accompanied by Dalim
and the others, made a thorough survey of the place. They confiscated
the cartridges and powder which they found, and assisted by their
hirelings carried them to the canoe. They also took possession of the
four small guns and forty rifles which formed the armament of the
garrison.
After the fortification had been thoroughly examined and a few more
trifles had been seized, including some baskets of tobacco, Johannes
took a piece of burning wood and thrust it among a heap of fagots
stowed away under a shed. In a short time the fire spread and our
adventurers had to make all haste in order to reach their boat and
convey it out of danger into the middle of the stream. A few djoekoengs
belonging to the fort, which they found moored in a neighboring creek,
were incontinently scuttled and sunk. They then resumed their journey,
leaving the fortification burning fiercely, the flames illuminating the
stream and converting night into day.
“Aha!” Johannes said cheerfully, “this is an illumination in honor of
our escape.”
“But is not that illumination an act of folly?” Wienersdorf asked. “Was
this attack upon the garrison necessary? I think we could have passed
on without hindrance or molestation, and that incendiarism might have
been avoided.”
“Incendiarism!” Johannes said angrily. “You express yourself rather
strongly! No, it was impossible to avoid it; the point of concentration
of these people had to be removed and they themselves compelled to fly.
No, I adhere to my assertion that under the circumstances the capture
of this fortification and its destruction were comparatively
necessary.”
Although Johannes spoke with earnest conviction, he could not know that
this raid would have another and more direct influence upon their
escape. He only realized the immediate results of his calculations; but
at that very moment another danger greater than the one just overcome
was preparing for them.
Our readers will remember that on the day after the departure of
Damboeng Papoendeh, the commander at Kwala Kapoeas ordered the chief of
the district to be ready with fifty armed Dayaks to accompany him on an
expedition to the upper Kapoeas.
The state canoe belonging to the fort, a handsome, fleet and roomy
vessel, was made ready and provisioned; and at the appointed hour the
Colonel set out. His parting instructions to the doctor urged the
necessity of being always on the alert, and of keeping him continually
informed of every important event occurring during his absence.
His first visit was to soengei Naning, but he failed to obtain any
trustworthy information. At the approach of the handsome kaloeloes, as
the state barge is called in the Dayak tongue, carrying the Dutch flag
on its bow and manned by a large number of oarsmen, Ali Bahar flew to
the wilderness. His wife was duly interviewed, but she was so terrified
at this visit that all the kind and conciliating language addressed to
her by Tomonggong Nikodemus Djaja Nagara failed to elicit any important
information. She, however, persisted in declaring that no whitefaces
had been seen by her.
An attempt was then made to hunt up Ali Bahar in the wilderness, but
this proving unsuccessful the Colonel resolved to continue his journey.
At soengei Mantangei the reports gained were just as unsatisfactory.
The natives knew nothing and could tell nothing beyond describing the
visits which had been made there. At last, after long deliberation, it
was resolved to row up the Kapoeas as far as Kwala Hiang, to seek
information there, and afterward, assisted by part of the garrison of
that fort, to take such further measures as might be found advisable.
“You will see, sir,” the old Tomonggong said, “that we shall do best by
going there. The fugitives would not possibly endeavor to escape by the
Doesson, where their lives would not be safe for a moment.”
“I sincerely hope you are right,” the Colonel replied, “for I am
heartily tired of this groping in the dark.”
The journey was then continued and presently the first important
information was gained. Damboeng Papoendeh’s canoe was met, but the
sufferers were still in such a critical condition that nothing positive
could be learned from them. They told all they knew; that they had
heard a heavy rifle fire during the night, which induced them to pay a
visit to Lake Ampang. They gave an account of their being attacked by
the bees, and finally described the assistance rendered to the
sufferers by Bapa Andong and the occupants of the raft. But all this
threw very little light upon the subject, as they persistently declared
that they had seen no white men. The only part of their narrative which
struck both the Tomonggong and the Colonel as being remarkable was the
statement that a strongly-built Dayak, after having carefully treated
the patients, had taken away the two Dutch flags. Diligent search was
made for the written instructions which had been given to Damboeng
Papoendeh, but they could not be found, although nobody could
positively assert that the document had been stolen.
The Colonel and the Tomonggong looked at each other for a few minutes.
Neither of them could give shape to his thoughts, nor did they seek to
interchange their impressions. The Colonel, however, decided to
continue the journey as far as Kwala Hiang, feeling convinced that he
would obtain further intelligence there.
About one in the morning they sighted the mouth of the soengei Hiang;
but nothing was to be seen of the fortification which used to be
situated at that opening.
“What has become of the kotta?” the Colonel asked, surprised.
“I was also looking for it,” was the Tomonggong’s answer. “I cannot
understand; it used to be on that spot.”
Whilst uttering these words he pointed with his finger in the direction
in which he expected to find the fort.
Upon a nearer approach the travellers discovered the charred remains of
what had once been the kotta. It was now clearly evident that the
benting had been burned down. But was that demolition the result of an
accident? or did it mean anything else?
While the Colonel and the district chief were discussing the matter a
few shots were fired at them from behind some bushes, the whistling
bullets causing a perfect panic among the Dayak occupants of the state
barge. The Tomonggong took his hunting rifle, the Colonel his
revolvers, and both prepared for action. The rowers, however, without
being ordered to do so reversed their oars, so that the boat almost
immediately swung around and commenced a hasty retreat. But as
everything remained quiet on shore their panic was soon calmed down.
Cool as ever, but yet cautious, the old chief stepped ashore alone and
unarmed. He raised his voice and shouted aloud to the hidden assailants
that there was no danger; no one should receive any injury. His cries
remained unanswered for some time, but at length a reply was heard, and
after a long interval the chief of the burned kotta issued from the
thick foliage. He broke out with the bitterest expressions of hate
against the Dutch, called them betrayers, assassins, marauders, etc. No
words seemed forcible enough to give expression to his indignation.
The calm Nikodemus let him rave on; but as soon as want of breath
compelled him to pause he was made to understand that he had been duped
and that no blame rested with the Dutch. The Tomonggong then told him
that the commander of Kwala Kapoeas was on board the state barge and
would be glad to receive full information of what had occurred at the
fort.
The chief thereupon related all that had happened, with a considerable
amount of exaggeration. The fortification had been attacked with cannon
and rifle fire, and the garrison had fled only after the palisades had
been destroyed. The Colonel smiled when the word cannon was mentioned.
The deserters were possessed of rifles, but whence could they have
procured cannon? Yet all the witnesses brought forward verified the
statement that they had been repeatedly fired upon by large guns, and
that after their flight a hailstorm of heavy shot was sent after them
which could only have been accomplished by cannon. The Colonel frowned
and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to believe. He felt
certain that he was now on the right track of the deserters, for all
confirmed the assertion that their assailants had used the Dutch
language in giving commands. How should he act?
Duty and honor, thought he, demanded some effort from him.
He would attempt impossibilities, trusting to some lucky accident for
success.
Consulting with the district chief as well as with the Tomonggong, they
finally concluded to row as far as kotta Baroe, where they would summon
the population to arms. They could at least reckon upon a couple of
hundred men. Such a force combined with those they could get here, a
few of whom carried rifles, would enable them to make a vigorous
attempt at capturing the deserters.
Meanwhile the fugitives had not remained inactive. They knew that
danger was at hand. Their object was to reach the upper country, as the
further they could get away from the Dutch, the safer they would be.
They therefore rowed on vigorously and when daylight appeared in the
heavens the rising smoke of the burning fort was no longer discernible.
They landed on one of the numerous sand banks which encircle the
projecting angles formed at this part of the river, and while
preparations were being made for their meal they refreshed and
fortified themselves with a dip in the cool transparent stream.
After this bath and while the rice was cooking the Dayaks seated
themselves in a circle to discuss the events of the last few days. They
had learned to look with a certain amount of awe on those four men,
who, though as brown as they were, and equally simple in their
demeanor, yet bore themselves like devils whenever they encountered any
difficulties. The fight on board the raft and the assault of the fort
had left a deep impression upon the natives. They laughed right
heartily when they remembered how their countrymen had fled, and they
repeatedly referred to some ludicrous incidents which had characterized
that attack.
The Europeans stretched themselves at full length in a little group on
the bright white sand, delighted at being able to exercise their limbs
again after the cramping confinement of the narrow boat. The recent
events furnished them also with food for conversation, but only for a
short time.
Their attention was soon diverted by the beauty of their surroundings.
The morning light was gilding the skies and the edges of the wood, and
gave the river under the reflection of this golden flood the appearance
of a stream of liquid gold. The aurora, rising from the east, at first
an insignificant stripe of the softest rose color, had gradually
covered the whole firmament with a lovely tint, which grew more intense
as the god of day approached nearer to the horizon. Nature assumed a
calm splendor which, although occurring daily in these regions, is yet
so rarely enjoyed by civilized and reflecting beings. Not a breath of
air was felt, not a leaf rustled; only the soft murmur of the river was
heard, as if offering up an exalted and grateful morning prayer. The
vaulted heavens became gradually clad in glittering purple. A moment
more and in the midst of this splendor a clearly defined spot was
distinguished in the east. This gradually grew larger until it reached
the size of a fiery ball and mounted above the horizon—the glorious
sun! Not only the tops of the trees were now gilt by its rays; its
radiance penetrated between the leaves and branches, dispersing the
darkness of the night and diffusing light and life in the most sombre
corners of the wood. In glowing colors the sky depicted these wonders
of wonders and spoke to man in that impressive language which can only
be heard and understood in the midst of a tropical forest.
As the sun rose higher the purple diminished. Its rays gradually bathed
everything in a clear white light, while the heavenly vault arrayed
itself in the purest azure, the hue of infinite space. Amid the perfect
calm which generally accompanies the first hours of the day in tropical
climates, there appeared in the blue sky a phenomenon which, though not
rare in Borneo, is nevertheless not of daily occurrence. Just above
their heads our adventurers saw a band of the minutest feathery clouds,
extending from south to north and delineating every curve of the river.
It was as if a gigantic map unrolled itself in the heavens, upon which
the stream was vividly depicted as if painted on a blue ground; the
silver hue increasing in intensity as the purple disappeared. In this
reflection the banks of the Kapoeas were distinctly defined; every
soengei was indicated, even the lakes and marshes along the banks of
the river were plainly visible. The river decreased in width toward the
north and increased toward the south, until next to the horizon it
reached the border of the forest and became lost in ethereal space.
Nothing could be more perfect than this hydrographic drawing, one
corner of which might have truly recorded in large characters, “Scale
of natural size,” while the other corner might have borne the imprint,
“Deus sculpsit.”
Our travellers were lost in deep admiration. “Gloriously beautiful,”
Schlickeisen avowed, adding enthusiastically, “The heavens declare the
glory of God and the firmament sheweth His handiwork.”
“What is the cause of such reflection?” La Cueille asked.
“I’m just considering,” Wienersdorf answered, “and will try and explain
my opinion respecting its formation. The enormous evaporation to which
the mass of water is exposed, on a marshy soil like Borneo and under
the influence of a tropical sun, causes more clouds to be formed here
than anywhere else on the globe. I imagine that with a very dry and
perfectly calm atmosphere these vapors formed above each sheet of water
rise perpendicularly, and arrived in higher regions, concentrate into
these feathery clouds now seen by us up there. If it is equally calm in
those upper regions these clouds will concentrate above the waters from
which they have originated and present their exact counterpart.”
“Beautifully explained,” Schlickeisen remarked, “but one more
explanation before I propose a vote of thanks to our comrade. You said
that feathery clouds rise after evaporation formed from every sheet of
water. Now, as the whole of that part of marshy Borneo in which we now
are may be considered as forming a coherent sheet of water, if the
formation takes place in the manner described by you, how is it that
only the image of one river or stream is given? And why is not the
whole firmament covered with a similar network of clouds?”
“So it would be,” Wienersdorf replied, “if the evaporation could take
place undisturbed above these marshy grounds; or in other words, if
what takes place above rivers and lakes could occur everywhere. But the
dense foliage of the virgin forest is spread out over these marshes and
forms as it were a roof difficult to penetrate. At night radiation
takes place, the branches and leaves cool down and the rising mist
condenses against them in the same manner as the particles of moisture
are deposited against the window of a heated room. See for yourself
whether the trees are covered with an abundant dew or not. This dew
would have formed the feathery clouds if only allowed to rise. It will
evaporate fast enough as soon as the branches and leaves have acquired
the same temperature as the surrounding atmosphere. The forest,
therefore, in regard to the evaporation, forms a horizontal roof, a
plain which is only intersected above the rivers, soengeis, lakes,
etc., and allows the evaporated atoms of water to escape during the
first hours of the morning. Elsewhere those atoms are held bound down.
I trust I have given you a satisfactory explanation. To myself these
reasons suffice to explain the origin of the magnificent air-picture
which we just now admired, but which has disappeared, dispelled by the
south-eastern wind.”
“I am perfectly satisfied and delighted with your mode of explanation,”
Schlickeisen replied.
“I also,” said Johannes; “I tender you my sincerest thanks for your
clear and interesting lecture; but the rice is ready and, divided into
rations by our Dayaks, stands there invitingly spread out on large
leaves. We shall presently have time to consume it, but for the present
I order every one back to the canoe to resume his oars. No time must be
lost in trying to reach kotta Baroe.”
The sun was nearly setting when our travellers reached kotta Baroe.
Dalim and Johannes went ashore. The inhabitants, who had seen the
approach of a canoe under Dutch colors, were full of curiosity.
Johannes, producing the written orders taken from Damboeng Papoendeh,
demanded twenty oarsmen to row the canoe into the upper river. Of
course none of them could read the document; as, however, it was
provided with the Dutch coat-of-arms, duly impressed upon red wax, it
had some influence. Much greater weight was however exercised by the
promised remuneration of a rix-dollar a day and a present of tobacco.
The latter was especially irresistible, and when Johannes produced a
basketful of the nicotian herb and presented a packet to the chief, all
arrangements were speedily made. Loud applause followed. Stalwart
fellows fought to be enlisted, and no sooner were they approved of than
they brought their little mats and pillows into the canoe, seized the
oars, and were ready to commence the journey. Johannes did some good
business here. He exchanged two baskets of tobacco for five pikols of
rice and a bag of salt. They were now, he thought, fully provisioned
for their entire journey, especially as the twenty oarsmen engaged here
would be discharged in ten days. The four hirelings of Bapa Andong were
entrusted to the chief of the kotta, to be sent back to Kwala Kapoeas
at the earliest opportunity. Johannes in one of his liberal moods
presented each of them with a rix-dollar in remuneration of their
voluntary services and expressed his entire satisfaction with their
conduct. All these negotiations were concluded, be it remembered, on
behalf of the Dutch Indian Government. The beflagged canoe and the
stamped paper were so many proofs that Johannes was an agent of the
white men, officially charged to open communication with the Olo Ott,
and to report upon their disposition towards the government. The
liberal payment of the oarsmen and the presents of tobacco just
distributed strengthened the general belief, and the people became
impressed with the conviction that they were dealing with
representatives of the Dutch Government.
As no coin is current above kotta Baroe, and nothing can be procured in
the interior of Borneo except by barter, Johannes exchanged all the
money of the travellers for chintz, linen goods and gold dust. This
precious metal is found in small quantities in the alluvial sand of the
river at other places, but at kotta Baroe it is found in quantities
which render the search remunerative, so that gold dust appears here as
a regular article of commerce. Johannes, as a functionary of the Dutch
Government, was liberally treated and received for fifty-five guilders
a thaël of gold of which the value at Bandjermasin is from sixty to
seventy guilders.
After a stay of two hours the canoe, impelled by six-and-twenty pairs
of oars, shot onward with lightning speed and soon disappeared on its
course up the river.
It was now arranged that during the night twenty oarsmen should be
continually kept at work while the remaining six should rest for two
hours and thus relieve six others who would in their turn enjoy two
hours repose. The canoe, with its resources thus husbanded, went on
quietly and expeditiously.
The conversation of the Europeans, which never flagged however
vigorously they were rowing, now turned upon the fauna of the country
they were traversing.
“With the exception of some crocodiles and a few troops of monkeys
climbing the trees like wild boys, we have as yet seen very little of
animal life on this island,” Schlickeisen remarked. “And yet animals
must be strongly represented in a country like this.”
“By no means,” Johannes answered. “In fact, Borneo is much worse
supplied in this respect than any of the larger islands of the Indian
Archipelago. We have no rhinoceroses, elephants or tigers, not even a
native horse. The island abounds in snakes, the cause of which may be
found in its marshy soil. This over-population of snakes is in its turn
the cause of the paucity of birds observable in the lower regions, as
these reptiles creep up the trees to get at the nests and either suck
the eggs or devour the broods.”
“It seems curious that this central island of the Indian Archipelago
only is totally deprived of its share of animals.”
“Totally deprived is not the right expression,” Johannes interrupted.
“We have not seen very much as yet of the great central island, as
Wienersdorf calls it. We shall find that the monkeys are quite as
numerous as they are anywhere. We are now in the paradise of the
orang-outang, the homo silvarum, which Darwin must certainly have had
in view when, advancing his theory of the descent of our forefathers,
he paid the monkeys the poor compliment of having us for their progeny.
Herds of deer rove about the forests and higher plateau, in quantities
and varieties that would give you quite a different opinion and confute
your statement that there is a total dearth of the animal kingdom.”
“A saddle of venison would not be unwelcome,” La Cueille suggested,
smacking his lips; “only one single morsel out of all this abundance
is, I am sure, not asking too much.”
“Have patience, my friend! All in good time. But to return to our
subject. Do you not consider this a happy country where on land man has
only to fear his fellow man, and in the water that other insatiable
monster, the crocodile?”
“But to what may be ascribed this absence of large animals in Borneo,
while in other islands they are so abundantly met with?”
“I once read that the series of islands which commence at the gulf of
Pegu in Farther India was probably connected with New Guinea. In the
course of time, by the agency of convulsions and earthquakes, the
various straits were formed which now separate those islands and admit
the waters of the Indian Ocean into the Chinese sea. If this theory can
be believed it will account for the existence in those islands of so
many of the animals which since the creation have been distributed over
Hindostan and Farther India.”
“That account is all very well for the islands mentioned; but for
Borneo the reason remains still a mystery.”
“Patience; I have not quite finished yet. At the time when this series
of islands was still one continent Borneo did not exist. Its site was
occupied by a large sea reaching from what is now Java to the Chinese
coast, being bounded on the west by Sumatra, Malacca, and Cochin China,
and on the east by Celebes and the Philippian Archipelago.”
“Beautifully explained,” La Cueille observed; “it stands to reason that
neither elephants, rhinoceroses nor tigers were swimming about in this
sheet of water.”
Johannes looked disdainfully at the Walloon, but not noticing the
interruption, continued,
“In the midst of this large basin, sundry small coral reefs raised
their flat tops above the surface of the water. By gradual elevation of
the base, the stone and clay layer upon which these coral reefs rested
gradually appeared above the water. The shape obtained by this rise
defined the future range of mountains running from north-east to
south-west, with a few lateral spurs branching out from it. Borneo thus
acquired its present form, which however it will lose again sooner or
later.”
“And why?” Schlickeisen asked.
“Because it has not yet arrived at its full formation. Whether this
elevation of soil is still going on I cannot say. I leave that for
others to determine, and a series of observations will have to be made
in order to establish the fact. But the alluvial deposits still
continue and it is curious to notice how clearly visible the withdrawal
of the sea and the projection of the mainland are at the south coast.
The Tjemara forest especially offers a certain measure. Small trees
scarcely a couple of inches high are found close to the borders of the
sea; the rows behind these are a little higher and this graduation
continues until, about one or two hundred yards away from the water, we
come to the high woods, where trees of thirty feet high are found. The
gradual increase in the height of the trees is hardly noticeable, only
that the foliage seen from the sea forms a kind of smooth slope of the
purest green.”
“All this is certainly cleverly explained,” Wienersdorf said, lost in
thought. “But on what is the hypothesis of this gradual elevation
based? Is it only a theory invented by European savants in their own
studies, or is it proved by facts?”
“By positive facts, my dear Swiss! Perhaps we may pass the borders of
the chalk formation to-morrow, if we make a little haste. Then,—in the
corals which you collect, in the accumulations of broken shells, etc.,
which you will see, you will find positive proofs that the sea once
rolled its waves there. But don’t fancy that in the Kapoeas only these
breccia of coral and shells are to be found. You find the same
formation on the banks of every river running parallel with that
stream. The most remarkable coincidence of all is, that if you draw a
line along the chalk formations, that undeniable proof of the former
existence of a coast, this line will pretty nearly coincide with the
course of the central mountain range and serve as it were for its
base.”
“Is there nothing to be found in the traditions of the country
indicating such a condition?” Schlickeisen asked.
“Certainly. Many legends and stories exist among the different Dayak
tribes who inhabit the banks of these rivers.”
“Do you know whether the absence of the larger carnivora has been
noticed by the natives also?” asked Wienersdorf, “and do their
traditions throw any light upon the subject?”
“Their traditions, as far as I know, do not mention anything of the
kind; perhaps they do not even suspect the presence of those animals in
other parts of the globe. And yet a legend is told which, while
indicating some notion of large animals, illustrates one of the
characteristics of this people, namely, the use of stratagem against
violence. The legend goes:
“In the times when animals were still possessed of speech, a huge
elephant arrived at the south coast of Borneo from the other side and
swam up the Kahajan. The animals residing there saw with astonishment
how this monster was making its way up their stream. A large crocodile
was sent to enquire into the intentions of the stranger. This crocodile
not very diplomatically began to grasp part of the body of the intruder
between his teeth and thought to gain an easy victory. The elephant,
however, took him up in his powerful trunk, raised him like a ball in
the air, and shattered his spine against a floating tree. Enraged by
this cowardly attack, the visitor stepped ashore, called to a deer
grazing in the vicinity, and commissioned him to declare war against
all the animals in Borneo. He sent a couple of tusks by this ambassador
in order to convey an adequate impression of the size and strength of
the challenging party.
“Although this defiance was rather boastful, the elephant correctly
foresaw what would happen. The animals became frightened and were
astounded on seeing these colossal teeth; while the fate of the
crocodile, described by the deer, did not tend to abate their terror.
In the midst of all this consternation, the little porcupine appeared
as their saviour. She advised them to send a few of her quills, bidding
the stranger compare the hair of his future opponents with his own, and
thence form some idea of the size of the teeth of animals which
possessed such colossal bristles. The stratagem succeeded perfectly.
The elephant, by no means anxious to enter into a contest with such
powerful opponents, asked for his teeth to be returned, and swam back
as fast as he could to the country whence he had come. Up to the
present date, the spot where the pachyderm stepped ashore is called
rantau gadjah oendoer, or the bend of the river where the elephant
returned.”
“By the saints! that was cleverly done,” La Cueille observed, “such
bristles would make a sapper feel ashamed of his beard, and they truly
conveyed the warning, ‘qui s’y frotte, s’y pique.’”
“The legend is not bad,” Schlickeisen said, “but I do not find what I
inquired after. This flight of the elephant I fancy points more to some
foreign attack, perhaps of Hindoos, in former times, which was baffled
by the cunning of the natives. It does not indicate any knowledge of
wild animals like the elephant. It is not unlikely, however, that if
the assailants were really Hindoos, they had armed elephants with their
army.”
“Possibly,” Johannes answered phlegmatically, “but I have told you all
I know, and I am quite certain that with the exception of a few
Cingalese who have here and there settled as traders, nothing Hindoo is
found in Borneo.”
In conversation of this kind the night passed tranquilly. Our
travellers did not care to sleep. When day began to break they
commenced to recognize undoubted traces of the presence of man. They
had travelled for days together without having seen either human beings
or any indication of their presence. Here it was quite different. They
often found plantations of maize, sugar-cane, etc., and fruit trees,
such as cocoanuts, pisangs, doerians, etc., etc., planted along the
borders of the primitive forest. Dwellings were observed at various
distances and they felt gladdened to see human beings engaged in their
various occupations. But the same peculiarity was here observed that
had struck them at kotta Towanan and kotta Baroe. Each house in the
upper regions was surrounded by heavy palisades and was thus
transformed into a kind of fortress. With very little vigilance on the
part of the inhabitants, it would be impossible for any foe to enter
the enclosure, while only hunger or cowardice could compel the
defenders to surrender such a stronghold. This is the result of the
terrible passion for collecting human skulls. Everybody defends himself
against possible massacre, and only finds security behind strong walls
and barricades.
The altered aspect of the country considerably increased the interest
of our travellers. In a single night they had arrived as it were at
quite a new world. Their first thought was to utilize their opportunity
by augmenting their stock of provisions or at least by effecting a
change in their fare. They therefore stopped near a garden, presented
the watchman with some tobacco, and in return were allowed to gather as
many roots and vegetables and as much maize as they liked. They had
also some cocoanuts and other fruit given to them. The watchman further
told them that a band of Poenans had been in the neighborhood during
the last few days and advised them to be cautious. Again the old
warning, “Look out for your head.”
After taking in sufficient provisions our fugitives resumed their
journey, and by noon they had reached the mouth of soengei Koeatan, the
principal river on this side of the Kapoeas. This soengei is navigable
for some days for canoes of medium size. It originates in a marshy
tract of land having communication with the Doesson by the soengei
Lemo.
Johannes proposed to pursue their journey along the Koeatan as the
Doesson continues navigable much longer than the Kapoeas; and they
would thus sooner reach the central mountains, across which their
course lay. The other three Europeans concurred in his proposal; but
Dalim and the Dayaks strongly opposed it. The way was certainly easier,
but they, as inhabitants of the Kapoeas regions, would land among their
bitterest enemies, from whom they could not possibly hide themselves or
escape, and who would show them no mercy or compassion. A journey in
that direction was like a sentence of death to them. While they were
still deliberating a rangkan impelled by twenty oars was observed in
the rear of the travellers. The appearance of this vessel, coming
around a sharp corner, was so sudden that the oarsmen in the canoe
became paralyzed with terror.
“Poenans! Poenans!” they cried, taking their mandauws.
The Europeans seized their guns and a heavy rifle fire would have soon
welcomed the visitors if Dalim had not stopped them, crying out, “Halt,
don’t fire!”
A Poenan in full war costume, but quite unarmed, was standing on the
bow of the rangkan, nodding and waving his arms about like a maniac.
When the vessels were a little nearer to each other, the travellers
recognized the head-hunter. It was Harimaoung Boekit—the Poenan whose
life had been spared by Wienersdorf at Lake Ampang. He was now
returning to his tribe, but having reason to believe that his new
friends were in some peril he had come to aid them. Thus it was that on
approaching our travellers, he and his companions had laid aside their
weapons, in token of friendship.