PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY—AN EMIGRATION—THE FISHING—A DAYAK
TRIBUNAL—THE FINGER TEST—THE PROOF WITH THE LANCE—WIENERSDORF FINDS
HAMADOE A TREASURE—LA CUEILLE DISCOVERS A COAL BED—A
MISUNDERSTANDING—THE GOLD FEVER.
Following upon the excitement and activity of the last few days, a
short period of repose was truly welcome to all the denizens of the
kotta. The Europeans, especially, found it desirable to take a thorough
rest after their recent exertions before commencing preparations for
the resumption of their journey. They were now to be accompanied by a
whole colony consisting of one hundred and fifty souls, women and
children included.
The distance to be traversed was not very great, kotta Djangkan being
separated from kotta Rangan Hanoengoh by about ninety-three miles, as
the crow flies. In a territory, however, like the upper Dayak country,
the windings of the main road are so numerous as almost to double the
distance.
Johannes kept hurrying them on, impressing upon the minds of the simple
Dayaks that time was worth more than gold, and explaining that if the
members of the deputation should be unsuccessful and the Dutch
determine to return to the upper Kapoeas they might be there sooner
than expected.
Having at last convinced them of the necessity for despatch, the first
thing he thought of was the means of transport. The Kapoeas, in the
absence of great droughts, is easily navigable as far as Kiham Hoeras,
situated at half a day’s journey beyond kotta Sambong. But at the first
ebb-tide, or rather first acceleration of the tide, the great
difficulties of a journey into the upper country begin. Then only a
small craft can be employed and the utmost care is necessary in its
management.
There were plenty of rangkans and djoekoengs at kotta Djangkan. All
provisions and portable goods were placed in baskets made of woven
rattan, shaped like inverted cones, about seventy-five inches high,
tapering from forty inches across the opening to twenty-five inches at
the bottom. These baskets are lined with waterproof bark and are
further provided with tight-fitting lids.
The guns were left in the battery in case of the return of the enemy;
but they were provided with strong rattan loops and kept ready for
removal at a moment’s notice. They had plenty of provisions, especially
rice, and a good supply of lombok and other delicacies. Meat was
scarce, the last salt beef and pork brought by the deserters having
greatly diminished during their journey under the attack of the Dayaks.
Amai Kotong and Harimaoung Boekit declared, however, that there would
be no lack of animal food during their journey, as they would find many
opportunities of shooting deer.
But in order to ensure a sufficient supply they decided upon having a
fishing expedition on a gigantic scale.
Amongst the preparations for this, an important one was the gathering
of a large quantity of the roots of the tobah shrub, abundantly found
among the surrounding hills. These roots were placed in djoekoengs
filled with water and left to soak thoroughly. They were then beaten
with flat pieces of wood until the water in the djoekoengs became of a
milky-white color. The soaked fibres were then thrown away, the liquor
properly skimmed and mixed with a strong infusion of tobacco. Six
djoekoengs were thus filled with tobah-water.
Next morning at daybreak a large number of light canoes, amongst which
were those containing the mixture, sailed up soengei Mawat. Their crews
were charged with the duty of closing the stream with a salambouw, a
great square net with medium-sized meshes. One edge of the net was
anchored in the bed of the soengei by means of large stones which kept
it fixed, while the other edge protruded above the water for about six
inches. Thus the escape of the fish was effectually prevented. Two
djoekoengs, each manned by three natives, were posted at the net to
prevent its being damaged by passing canoes or carried away by the
stream.
Having set their nets, the male portion of the expedition divided
itself into parties of three men to each djoekoeng. The women—for many
had come to witness the fun—were seated in two large canoes, while a
third boat contained the priestesses—those unavoidable accompaniments
of every native festivity.
They now rowed up the soengei quickly but quietly for about four hours,
carefully blocking the mouths of some unimportant rivulets which opened
into the Mawat.
Arrived at the selected spot, the tobah-water was thrown into the river
at various points. The canoe floated noiselessly with the tide while
the poisoned water was getting intermixed with the stream.
The fishermen in the meantime prepared for the collection of their
booty. Of the three men occupying each canoe, the one at the stern
steered while the other two, net or harpoon in hand, placed themselves
expectantly on the bow and in the centre of the boat, all ready for
action.
In about half an hour the effect of the narcotic fluid became visible.
First, the smaller fish appeared on the surface, elevated their heads,
swam about in gradually diminishing circles and seemed anxious to leap
out of the water. These were simply fished up with the nets or baskets
and thrown into the canoes.
The fish now increased in size and number, bringing the harpoon into
requisition, as it was perfectly impossible to capture with the net
giants over a yard in length. The noise and mirth became general, our
Europeans heartily participating. The fifty canoes were continually
shooting past each other over this restricted surface, the men steering
their boats at the mere nod of the harpooners in pursuit of the fish as
they leaped around, to be finally pierced by the harpoons.
The Europeans, not wishing to be behind in the national sport,
endeavored to strike some big fish; and after repeated submersions, La
Cueille actually succeeded in landing a large trout, though he excited
the mirth of the spectators by his awkwardness.
At last the number of victims gradually diminished and the sport was
considered to have reached its close. All the boats were suffered to
drift with the tide and, still harpooning, laughing, yelling and
joking, the multitude reached the mouth of soengei Mawat and the
salambouw was hauled in. They then travelled homeward up the Kapoeas
and the fishing party was received with a festival salute from the guns
of kotta Djangkan. Ten of the djoekoengs were brimful of fish.
The greater part of the booty was divided among the company. Fish
killed by tobah poison are perfectly harmless and can be safely eaten,
but cannot be dried or cured, as they soon begin to putrefy. Most of
the trout were cut into slices and wrapped in leaves to be roasted with
some salt and powdered lombok. As these, when thus prepared, may be
kept for a considerable time, they proved a valuable addition to the
general stock of animal food.
On the day following this fishing expedition, our deserters witnessed a
ceremony of quite a different nature. It really seemed as if fate had
destined them to experience the whole of the interior life of these
tribes among whom they now found themselves transplanted.
In the Dayak country it is customary to hold a judicial enquiry once a
week. The chief of the kotta, surrounded by from three to seven of the
elders, sits in judgment to settle all the differences which may have
occurred during the preceding week and which are sufficiently important
to require his professional assistance.
The Dayaks are as a rule the most litigious people in creation and
never feel happy unless they have some “basara” or action pending. They
would prove an unexhaustible source of revenue to European lawyers,
could they be transplanted into our Western hemisphere. Their basara
day therefore simply means another holiday for the inhabitants of a
kotta, attendance at a sitting of the judges being a treat almost
irresistible. The one which was now to take place was invested with
special importance, as the new chief Amai Njawong would preside for the
first time.
First of all several trivial charges were disposed of, in the progress
of which the Europeans did not fail to notice the shrewdness and
sagacity of the solicitors. With the utmost interest they watched the
peculiar practices of these men of the law. They were provided with a
number of small rattan dolls as part of their professional
paraphernalia. Whenever a point was gained by the production of
irrefragable proof, the plaintiff’s lawyer stuck one of these dolls in
the ground before him, so that at the end of his pleadings a number of
these figures were arrayed around him. When in the defence any of his
arguments or facts were disproved and the defendant’s solicitor scored
a point by planting a doll before his own seat, one of the plaintiff’s
collection had to be removed. Thus these dolls represented so many
items of established evidence. At the close of the pleadings the
verdict was awarded to the one who had most dolls standing. In these
peculiar proceedings, sleight of hand plays no unimportant part. Dolls
are sometimes nefariously planted or abstracted, and the recriminations
which ensue necessitate a new action on the following court day, with
the resumption of proceedings “de novo.”
Among the most important cases there was one in which three persons
stood accused of the same offence. Two of them belonged to people of
distinction, but the third was a hireling.
The accusation being formally made the court proceeded to the manjapa
or administration of oaths. A black hen was produced and beheaded by
the accuser—who then solemnly swore to the truth of the charge. The
accused in their defence observed the same formality and swore solemnly
to their innocence. In this dilemma the judges had recourse to the
Dayak ordeal.
They ordered three basins to be brought, filled with melted rosin. A
large fire was kindled, on which the hens decapitated during the taking
of the oaths were burned. In the meantime the three accused had taken
their places around the basin. At a sign by the president, each of them
was made to dip his right fore-finger in the melted rosin and to stir
it around twice or three times. The fingers duly descended into the
basins at the given signal; a horrible shriek being uttered by the
hireling who, notwithstanding his agony, had the courage to stir the
burning contents the required number of times. The fingers of the
accused were carefully bandaged until the following morning when they
would be judicially inspected. He whose finger would be found flayed or
otherwise damaged would be adjudged the culprit.
The last case to be decided was one which had been under investigation
for a long time. Some years before, an old man had died, supposed to be
poisoned. His son had brought an action against a man who had been
heard to vow vengeance against the deceased for giving false evidence
against him in a charge of fish stealing. Whenever the case had been
called before, the same result had always followed. The number of dolls
had always been equal for both parties, and it had therefore been
impossible to determine who was right and who was wrong.
Thus stood the matter until to-day, when it was proposed to proceed to
the hagalangang in order to arrive at the truth. In the great square of
the kotta, both plaintiff and defendant were placed in narrow bamboo
cages closed in at the bottom, which while protecting the lower part of
their bodies left their heads, arms and chests fully exposed. The cages
were designedly made narrow to defeat any attempt which their occupants
might make to stoop or plunge. Being placed facing each other at a
distance of about thirty paces, both men were supplied with pointed
bamboos a yard long, which at a given signal they had to throw at each
other. The one who should be first wounded, however slightly, would be
considered guilty. If it should be the accuser, his action would be
lost and he would be compelled to pay to the accused a penalty of 1,000
rear as shame money. He would also have to present him with a mandauw
as a token that he accepted the decision and that he continued to
respect him as heretofore. If, however, the accused should be wounded,
he would be made to confess his guilt, handed over to the accuser, who
would therewith acquire the right of torturing him to death.
When the judges had taken their seats a couple of youths were told off
to pick up the lances and restore them to the combatants. Amai Njawong
then gave the signal to commence. The first throw effected nothing and
being wide of the mark was received with a howl of disapprobation. The
second and third were better aimed, but the fourth was fatally
decisive. Struck full in the chest the accused instantly dropped dead,
while the accuser at the same moment also received his death blow. The
weapon of his opponent had struck him at the side of the neck and
severed the carotid artery. He survived a few minutes only, dying from
hæmorrhage.
The president hereupon declared that their deities had interposed to
prevent a verdict in order that the matter might remain a secret
forever. He ordered the bodies to be delivered to their relatives for
the usual burial ceremonies and shortly afterwards the titih was heard
from two sides of the kotta.
Deeply moved by these strange scenes the Europeans sought their room,
where for some time they remained wrapt in deep silence. At last La
Cueille, like one trying to escape from a nightmare, cried out:
“What a queer lot we have come among!”
It seemed to break the spell and lift the veil of gloom from all the
others.
“So we have,” Johannes answered, “and we are always booked for the best
seats in order that we may thoroughly enjoy the performance. And yet we
dare not interfere.”
“I should think not,” Schlickeisen added. “Suppose they should place us
in similar cages?”
“Or make us dip our fingers in boiling rosin?” said Wienersdorf.
“Yes,” Johannes added warningly. “Even Hamadoe would not hesitate to
start an action for breach of promise.”
“And then good-bye to your finger,” Schlickeisen smiled at the Walloon,
for he too, like Wienersdorf, had been obliged to be betrothed to a
Dayak maiden.
The Walloon looked wistfully at his index as if he already felt the
burning pain.
“That is awkward,” he muttered. “A man may now and then change his
mind.”
“So you may, but mind your finger; a basin of that rosin is far from
nice.”
“I thank you for your advice,” said La Cueille; “I will mind my finger.
But there is much that I cannot understand and am anxious to know more
about.”
“What may that be?” Johannes asked.
“Three of them dipped their fingers in the rosin, didn’t they? Now
suppose to-morrow morning they find two, or even all of them with burnt
fingers?”
“Oh, holy simplicity!” Johannes burst out. “Well this is rich! All
three, ha, ha, ha! That would prove trying to the wisdom of King
Solomon. Ha, ha, ha!” and Johannes laughed heartily.
“What are you laughing at?” the Walloon asked angrily. “I cannot make
it out. Three men have dipped their fingers in that molten rosin; now
what could be more natural than to find the whole three of them burnt?
But at all events tell us the cause of your laughter; perhaps we may
join you.”
“You are a donkey.”
“I have been told that before, I know, but is that what you are
laughing at?”
“Oh, you stupid! Did you not hear the shrieks uttered by number three
of the accused?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, he alone burnt his finger and nobody else. But I had better
explain it to you. The first two are well-to-do young men who only had
to interchange a look with the judges in order to be taken for
innocence personified. Possibly the judges had received their fee
beforehand; if not they are quite certain to get it. The third was a
poor lad from whom nothing was to be expected. He had no significant
looks to interchange.”
“I would understand all this were it not that with my own eyes I saw
their three fingers move up and down in the molten rosin; I looked most
attentively.”
“Did you now; and what else did you see?”
“What more could I see?”
“That is what you call looking attentively?” Johannes said mockingly.
“And did you not see that the color of the rosin was not the same in
each basin?”
“And suppose it was not? Rosin is rosin.”
“No, stupid! Rosin is not rosin, or rather one is and the other is not.
I see I must explain this also. The finest sorts of rosin, being pure,
melt at a very low temperature, while the less fine, being porous and
sandy, require a much greater heat to melt them.”
“Aha!”
“Do you see it now? When therefore the judges order you to dip your
finger in a basin of the best rosin, which only requires very little
heat to liquefy, you can keep it in there as long as you choose without
more pain than that of a slight scald. But let them put your finger in
the poorer kind and you would bellow as the hireling, and to-morrow
morning you would have that finger beautifully flayed. Now,
good-night.”
Johannes was quite correct in his prediction. On the following morning
when the wounded fingers were unbound for official inspection two
appeared wholly unhurt. The finger of the hireling was, however,
frightfully burned, the skin coming off with the bandage. The accused
was duly condemned.
In the meantime preparation for the impending departure to soengei Miri
had not been neglected. Provisions and ammunition were all packed, guns
and rifles were ready for shipment, and as nothing remained to be done
except the confection of some trifling domestic preparations, the
Europeans had a few days to spend as they chose.
Wienersdorf at first thought of botanizing a little, but abandoned the
intention in order to devote himself to his betrothed and to prepare
her for the amenities of European life and society. Although customary
among the Dayaks for lovers to remain separated until the day of their
wedding, the preparations for the journey rendered it almost impossible
now to adhere strictly to this rule. Besides would not Dohong have to
watch over his intended during their travel? Had not Harimaoung Boekit
almost intimated as much when he said that nobody could protect his
sister better than the brave Dohong, the infallible marksman. All
restraint between the two lovers was thus temporarily relaxed, and our
Swiss lost not a single moment in making himself cognizant of the
character of her whom he was about to marry. The result was highly
satisfactory. Hamadoe, who externally was very beautiful, proved also
to possess a heart and a character of the noblest mould. That she was
clever Dohong at once perceived; now and then she seemed ignorant of
the most trivial matters, but her quickness and docility in receiving
impressions were truly remarkable. Her goodness and affability he had
repeatedly observed. She detested cruelty and prevented all unnecessary
suffering as much as lay in her power, while morbid cowardice was
strange to her. She was the proud child of nature. Secluded from the
impressions of the outer world she had never seen anything beyond the
horizon of her native forests and for her human nature did not extend
further than her tribe. Whenever cruelties and tortures were practiced
by the members of that tribe she turned her face and revolted against
the idea of being powerless to contend against the influence of native
morals and laws. And yet she would never have given her hand and heart
to a coward. The husband of her choice must be able to wield his sword
with a strong manly hand, must know how to support and courageously
defend his wife. She had never tasted human flesh, and once when she
had been offered a dish of human brains had fainted and was heartily
laughed at by the company. She felt ashamed of this weakness, but she
so earnestly begged them not to repeat the jest that even the most
ignorant amongst them promised obedience.
She was extremely modest. Moving in an atmosphere of impurity she had
always tried to keep her character spotless. Whenever she heard
expressions uttered in her presence whose meanings she could not
ignore, she knew how to silence the realists by a stern look. Thus she
had succeeded by the mere influence of her presence in commanding a
propriety which was contrary to the general behavior of these forest
people.
Like all Dayak young ladies she had gone unclad up to the age of
maturity, simply wearing a “sapieng” in imitation of the fig-leaf of
our primitive parents. Later on she had clothed herself in a saloi like
other young girls of her tribe, and in her innocence had never seen
aught of impropriety in that attire. She knew no better. But when at
the blako ontong she had felt the piercing glance of her bridegroom
there stole over her a sensation of shame hitherto unknown to her, and
she seemed to wish that the earth would open beneath her to rescue her
from the gaze of all these men collected around her. The sensation was
intolerable, and therefore from that moment she always appeared dressed
in a badjoe, although her companions reproached her for already
assuming the exclusive garb of a married woman when in company. The
same charming simplicity characterized all her intercourse with
Wienersdorf. Though she was ignorance personified, she yet understood
all that was told her and was especially attentive when he spoke of the
outer world, that world which he so well pictured to her, but of which
she could form no idea. Her brothers had been to Bandjermasin and had
seen so much there as to render their narratives inexhaustible. But
what was Bandjermasin at the side of Singapore? And what were those
again compared to the cities of the land of the whitefaces? Had he ever
been there? she asked.
For a moment he hesitated. He still wished to keep up his disguise of
Kwala Kapoeas and was on the point of telling her that he had been to
Java and that from there he had embarked on board a very large ship
bound, for Holland, but a look into her beautiful, innocent and
truthful eyes modified his intention. He threw his arms round her, drew
her towards him, and disclosing one of his shoulders from which the
drug with which he had been stained had been rubbed off, he exhibited
his white skin.
“Olo bapoeti!” a white man, she uttered with a smothered voice. He kept
her prisoner in his arms for a moment; her bosom heaved violently; she
then threw her lovely arms around his neck and whispered:
“Be it as you will: you are the iron tree; I am the creeper; together
we are strong.”
Vehemently he pressed her to his heart.
He now told her how he had deserted from the Dutch to return to his
country. She seemed not to understand him. All white people were Dutch,
she had thought, and with the greatest difficulty he explained to her
that the whitefaces had more varieties still than the dark race, of
whom she had only seen her own tribe and none beyond. She soon felt
sympathy with the man who for the sake of seeing his native country
again had exposed himself to so many dangers. Nevertheless she could
not understand his feelings in the matter, for she argued could one not
be happy anywhere? He smiled at her remarks, and making use of the
opportunity he pictured to her European society and described the
invaluable privileges which are conferred by the protection of
civilization and strengthened by ties of mutual love. He explained how
in his country the spilling of blood was prohibited, and how a white
man might live amongst his companions independent of the differences
existing between their various tribes. He told her that the whitefaces
were all free; that they had no slaves who lived in constant fear of
their lives and were subject to be killed in the most horrible manner.
He explained the status of woman amongst the white people, her share in
the battle of life, the estimation in which she was held, reigning next
to her husband as a true companion instead of being regarded as she was
here, as a beast of burden, the slave of her spouse.
As she listened attentively a new world rose before her eyes. He went
on telling her of the beautiful dwellings of the whitefaces, so
different from the hovels she had hitherto seen. He described the
European towns with their squares, streets, churches, palaces,
theatres, promenades, and in his description employed such charming
enthusiasm that he created a complete revolution in her primitive mind.
Involuntarily she embraced him with tenderness and almost inaudibly she
whispered into his ears that she was willing and ready to follow
wherever Dohong would lead her. She only begged of him for the present
to preserve the secret that he was no Dayak. She would undertake to
inform her brother Harimaoung Boekit of the fact at a fitting
opportunity. While the lovers were thus enjoying some of their most
happy moments, each of the other two Europeans had tried to kill time
in his own way. La Cueille being also in an amorous mood had wished to
amuse himself by courting, but his Moendoet had been entrusted with the
culinary preparations and he was manifestly quite superfluous. Besides
she was highly perfumed by garlic which she was manipulating and these
odors compelled her adorer to withdraw. He went away disconsolate
intending to take a solitary walk in the neighborhood, when he met
Schlickeisen, who also having nothing to do joined him. Both men
stepped into a djoekoeng and were quietly paddling along when suddenly
La Cueille observed a lump of coal lying on one of the banks.
“Quite true,” he said. “Johannes some time ago told me that at
half-tide a coal vein is visible in the banks of the river just beyond
kotta Djangkan. It is low tide now; let us have a look.”
“I am agreeable,” the Swiss replied. “But had we not better get our
guns? In a country like this it is always well to be armed.”
“We have our mandauws,” the Walloon answered, “but I will take the
opportunity of bringing a crowbar and pickaxe.”
A few minutes later the two men with their rifles and implements were
seated in a boat and quietly rowed up the river. They had hardly
travelled half an hour when they began to perceive a black streak upon
the fine, gray, scaly clay which composed the steep banks of the
stream.
The explorers rowed towards the widest part of the black streak in
order to examine it more closely. La Cueille detached a couple of
pieces and found that he had come upon a mine of coal.
In color it was of a dull grayish black and was so fragile that it
easily crumbled between the strong fingers of the Walloon. On fracture
it exhibited a fine leafy structure, taking the shape of a
parallelopipedon. Armed with his pickaxe he broke through the upper
layers, which had been exposed for ages to wind and weather, and soon
he had the satisfaction of discovering coal of quite a different
quality. Not yet satisfied the Walloon mounted the bank, proceeded a
couple of hundred yards inland and commenced to dig at a certain
depression of the soil. The earth was loosened with pickaxe and crowbar
and removed with their hands. In a couple of hours they came upon a
layer of soft, gray-brown clay which caused the Walloon to cry out with
joy. He broke through this layer and found it to be about eight inches
deep. He examined the debris and recognized fine scales of iron ore
which made him certain of the value of his discovery. Shortly afterward
and under the combined exertions of the two Europeans the iron teeth of
the crowbar and pickaxe produced their first large lump of true coal.
“This is quite a different product from the one over there,” the
Walloon exclaimed.
Schlickeisen looked at it carefully, but could find no difference.
“It seems exactly like the coal found near the river,” he said.
“Only with this difference,” added La Cueille, “that these are
jet-black—and see how resplendent on fracture. But what are these
spots? They look like amber! Good heavens, they are resinous spots, the
best proof that this is fat coal. What a treasure!”
The Swiss smilingly looked at his excited companion, and although he
little understood mining he could appreciate the rapture of the Walloon
and greatly enjoyed it.
“Let us break up a good stock,” the latter exclaimed, “so that I may
test the quality by and by.”
They proceeded with their task and soon collected a sufficient stock
for the experiment proposed to be made by La Cueille. Most of the lumps
were so large as to require their united strength to carry them into
the djoekoeng.
As soon as they had landed their treasure at the kotta the Walloon
kindled a couple of fires with which to make his observations.
Schlickeisen however did not remain with him. He went his way, leaving
his friend to pursue his experiments. Three hours afterwards when the
other Europeans sought the Walloon they found him still busy with his
coal.
“Look!” said he, “you could not find better coal than this in any of
the mines of Liege or Hainault.”
The Walloon seemed mad with delight and his companions stared at him in
utter astonishment.
“But of what practical use is your great discovery?” asks Johannes.
“Do not the Dayaks use coal?” observed Wienersdorf.
“No! the use of batoe kasientoe, as they call coals, is considered
unclean. In some places it is forbidden to touch coal or to approach a
coal fire. Whence this superstition springs I don’t know; but the
Dayaks have a legend which relates how Mahatara in a moment of wrath
buried whole forests in the earth and turned them into stone. This may
account for their horror of coal.”
Is coal distributed all over Borneo?
In our present ignorance of the resources of the island such a question
is difficult to answer. But as far as we know, we may safely say, yes;
for wherever the Dutch are established numerous and valuable coal veins
have been developed.
The coal debate might have lasted all night but for Harimaoung Boekit
who now approached to join his friends. He held in his hands a
tarodjok—a small pair of scales to which he drew Johannes’ attention.
“Well, Amai, did you weigh it?”
“Yes,” responded the Poenan grinning,—“it weighs just one ‘boea
kajoe.’”
“And what may that be worth?”
This question was too difficult for the Poenan to answer. He scratched
his head and looked at the company one by one. At last, addressing his
future brother-in-law, he asked him:
“If one thaël costs thirty reals, what is the value of a boea kajoe?”
Wienersdorf stared, his face looking so blank that his companions could
not refrain from bursting out into laughter. He had not the remotest
idea of what his interrogator wished to know. Harimaoung pointed to the
scales, in one of which there was a fine metallic powder of a dark
yellow hue, greatly resembling dirty copper filings, while the opposite
scale contained a small brass plate representing a weight. Even now
Wienersdorf did not know what was required of him and he consequently
shrugged his shoulders.
“People coming from Bandjermasin always boast of knowing more than
others,” said the Poenan, “and now this blockhead cannot tell the value
of one boea kadjoe when a thaël costs thirty reals.”
“But what costs thirty reals? What? Which?” asked the Swiss, somewhat
offended.
“What! This boelau oerei (gold dust).”
“Aha! this is gold dust, is it? and you wish me to tell its value.
Well, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know! Oh, my poor sister, what an idiot of a husband she
will have.” Johannes burst out laughing and was joined by La Cueille
and Schlickeisen.
“But, Amai,” Johannes said, “Dohong does not understand your weights.
They use quite different ones at Bandjermasin and Kwala Kapoeas.
Listen,” continued he, addressing Wienersdorf, “one thaël weighs two
ringgits; one ringgit, two sadjampols; one sadjampol, two and a half
sakobangs, and one sakobang, two boea kadjoes. Do you see it now?”
“Yes, I see, Amai, there is three guilders of gold dust there. But what
is the meaning of all this? I don’t quite understand yet.”
“Oh,” said Johannes, “I intended to surprise you all by turning you
into gold seekers—in fact, make your fortunes without your knowledge.
The fun is spoilt now. The Poenan and I have been washing gold to-day.
I took my first lesson and this is the result of two hours’ labor. I
found all this myself. My teacher’s share is much larger.”
“Three guilders in two hours!” exclaimed Wienersdorf, “that is not bad
pay. I am sorry we cannot stay here longer; we might make a purse worth
carrying home.”
“And yet we have been rather unlucky, have we not, Amai?”
The Poenan smiled and answered, “That was your fault. You did many
forbidden things and made the sarok boelau fly away. It is a wonder you
found any gold at all. But the sarok boelau will avenge himself, you
may be sure you will be taken with the fever.”
The Dayaks believe that all bodies animate and inanimate have souls;
that of gold until it is conquered by man is called sarok boelau.
“Oh, Amai,” said Johannes, smiling, “fever has no hold on me. When it
comes I will pass it on to you.”
The Poenan was by no means pleased at this joke, the intention of
passing on the fever to him was just a little too much. He however
proceeded to tell his friends that in his country, the soengei Miri,
gold was much more common than here. He promised to assist them in
seeking it, provided they would agree to conform strictly to the usages
of the craft.
This promise set them all talking about gold; they were already
attacked by the fever—gold fever.