PURSUIT—A BAND OF DOESSONESE SURPRISED—ON THE TRACK OF
SCHLICKEISEN—HE IS SAVED—HARIMAOUNG BOEKIT MAKES A DISCOVERY—THE
JOURNEY RENEWED—GOLD HUNTING—LA CUEILLE MAKES A FIND—BARTER WITH
THE OLO OTTS.
This was indeed a terrible blow to Johannes. In nervous haste he
examined the tomoi and the whole of its limited extent, without
discovering anything further. He therefore rapidly ascended the Oepon
Batoe and informed his companions of their misfortune. They all
received the news with the deepest consternation, but Wienersdorf
especially, with tears in his eyes, lamented the sad fate of his friend
and countryman. It was certainly possible that he had saved himself by
taking to the water. He was an expert swimmer, Wienersdorf said; but
Harimaoung Boekit pointed to the wild and boiling stream and suggested
that no human being could possibly swim across that torrent without
being crushed to atoms a hundred times over, against the sharp and
jagged rocks visible everywhere around. A third idea to which the
Europeans clung, was that he had been carried away alive. This last
would involve a terrible fate. They knew by experience how the
surrounding natives treated their prisoners of war. And when these
Doessonese, who might be classed among the most cruel tribes of Borneo,
should discover that their prisoner was a whiteface, what hope would
remain to him? The idea alone was enough to terrify them. And yet
Wienersdorf desperately stuck to this hypothesis. At least it left him
and his friends the hope of being able to render some
assistance—possibly to save the lost one. He therefore urged this
opinion with all earnestness. Johannes also felt inclined to believe
that. Schlickeisen had been taken prisoner, and true to his loyal
nature he at once commenced to work for his deliverance. The first
things to be determined were, which band of the enemy had captured him
and whither he had been carried.
Harimaoung proposed to start for soengei Miri by the overland route. He
and Amai Kotong called their warriors together, provided them with an
ample supply of rice and as soon as the sun disappeared beneath the
horizon the little troop of Dayaks and Poenans, accompanied by three
Europeans, silently descended the hill and marched towards the north.
While descending La Cueille had ample opportunity to notice the
terrible effect of his recent stratagem. Human bodies completely
flattened out were seen buried in the deep and hard ruts made by the
rolling blocks of stone. Here a fractured skull, there a ripped chest
or gaping abdomen, further on dissevered hands and feet—everywhere
blood. It was a fearful sight. Even the hardened senses of the Dayaks
were moved, and with looks of horror the woodmen turned aside to hasten
on their route.
The path at the foot of the hill ran almost parallel to the Kahajan.
They marched on unflaggingly that night and the whole of the following
day, without discovering any trace of the enemy. At sunset they halted
at a convenient spot to take a few hours rest, after which the march
was resumed with renewed energy.
The moon was shining brilliantly, considerably lessening the
difficulties of marching through a tropical forest by night. The path,
however, was so narrow that only one man could pass at a time, so that
they were compelled to travel in Indian file. Fallen trees were lying
about everywhere. In many places they had to cut a way through the
thorny creepers, a work which, besides damaging their clothes,
occasioned them many disagreeable pricks.
About midnight, when they were marching along a grassy lawn dotted with
large umbrageous trees, one of the Poenans warned them to keep silent.
Through the midnight calm he had heard at no great distance some
suspicious sounds which he believed to be human voices. Harimaoung
Boekit softly whispered a few words to his companions, then he and six
of his warriors threw themselves on the grass and cautiously crept
along the ground. The rest of the travelers remained perfectly still
for a quarter of an hour in an excited state of expectation. Of a
sudden some cries of terror, rage and despair were heard which were
succeeded by utter silence. Then the Poenans reappeared, two of them
carrying human heads and the four others dragging behind them two
gagged prisoners. These men at first refused to answer any questions.
Johannes then gave them to understand that he would employ means to
compel them to speak. One of them hurled some offensive epithets at his
captors and in return received between his eyes a blow which set him
spinning and almost stunned him. They then became more docile and bit
by bit revealed that they belonged to a marauding band and knew nothing
of the proceedings of their compatriots in that neighborhood. They had,
however, been informed that many of their people had perished in an
explosion at the Oepon Batoe and that all the inhabitants of the kotta
had been killed at the same time. The Doessonese they had heard had
secured many heads and had also captured a whiteface. Our friends
listened breathlessly to this last item of intelligence, though it
caused Harimaoung Boekit to stare with astonishment. Johannes then
calmly enquired how this whiteface could have come here in these remote
regions.
“Djaton tau,” I don’t know, was the reply; “but we have seen him. He
was lying in a rangkan, tied hands and feet. His jacket had been torn
off. His face and hands were brown like ours, but his chest and back
were white. He had dyed his skin with katiting.”
“And what have they done with him?” inquired Wienersdorf, hesitatingly,
as if afraid to put the question, “Have they killed him?”
“No: many pleaded to have him killed, but it was resolved to carry him
before Tomonggong Soerapatti, who will, without doubt, deliver him into
the hands of the Dutchmen at Bandjermasin, with whom he wishes to make
peace.”
“Is the prisoner unhurt? And where is he now?” were the important
questions of the Swiss.
The prisoners hesitated, looked at each other and remained silent even
after Johannes had repeated his question. But La Cueille applied his
rattan to their backs with such vehemence that their obstinacy was soon
subdued. They then stated that at sunset they had seen the rangkan
which contained the white man lying close by the bank of the river, the
oarsmen evidently intending to rest at that spot for the night.
The pursuit was immediately resumed in the hope of capturing the
vessel. A quarter of an hour later, upon approaching the banks of the
Kahajan, they caught sight of the rangkan. When its crew became aware
of their presence they hastily pushed their boat from the shore and
made for the opposite bank. A couple of bullets were sent after the
flying vessel, but it rapidly disappeared from view among the dark
shadows of the thick forest. Directly after the discharge of their
guns, however, they had distinctly heard a cry, “Help! help!” This not
only convinced them that they were on the right track, but also assured
them that their abducted companion was still alive. A council of war
was now held. The Poenan chief assured his friends that he was
acquainted with a by-way which would speedily bring them to a spot
above stream in advance of the fugitives. Once there they could await
the approach of the rangkan and act according to the circumstances.
Before starting, however, they had to obey a cruel necessity. The two
Doessonese prisoners had been brought in their train. To take them
further would not only retard their journey, but also considerably
increase their danger. Wienersdorf proposed to set them free, but his
counsel was overruled, as they would certainly bring a whole troop of
their brethren in pursuit. La Cueille’s suggestion was that they be
securely tied to trees and left to the mercy of fate. This was objected
to as unnecessarily cruel. Nobody might pass to liberate them and they
would die a painful, lingering death. Johannes solved the difficulty by
whispering something into La Cueille’s ears, to which the Walloon
responded by a nod of affirmation. The march was continued, La Cueille
being entrusted with the care of the captives. He allowed the troop to
pass on in advance, led by Wienersdorf and Johannes; he and his
prisoners bringing up the rear. They had thus proceeded only a short
distance when two shots were heard in succession and the Walloon came
hurrying forward with the information that his prisoners having tried
to escape he had been compelled to shoot them down.
They now marched on with increased speed and at daybreak found
themselves near a little hill situated like Oepon Batoe on the bank of
the river, which hurried by below this point in a wild cataract. This
was Kiham Batoe Naroi, the most difficult as well as the largest fall
on the Kahajan, though owing to the breadth of the stream by no means
the most dangerous. Harimaoung Boekit here divided his little band into
two companies. The smaller one mounted the heights and remained
concealed in a recess of the rocky wall which commanded the curve of
the river for a considerable distance. The other division was posted at
the foot of the hill in order to cut off the retreat of the Doessonese,
the men being instructed to keep themselves hidden behind rocks and
shrubs until the moment for action should arrive.
As the Poenan chief had foreseen, a considerable time elapsed before
the expected rangkan came in sight. The spies reported that it was
manned by twenty oarsmen, but that nothing could be seen of the
prisoner. As the boat approached, however, they distinguished
Schlickeisen lying at the bottom in a most deplorable condition, tied
hand and foot and perfectly naked. The rangkan made for the intricate
passage of the kiham. Here in the country of their enemies, the
Doessonese could not venture on land in order to guide their boat with
a cable; they must row through the rapids despite the extreme
difficulty of the feat. The rowers manipulated their oars magnificently
and guided their craft with marvellous skill, now urging it forward
calmly and steadily, and deftly keeping it afloat in the raging flood
until all the difficulties of passage were successfully overcome. One
more leap forward and the rangkan would have floated on calm water,
when lo! a shot was heard. The foremost rower dropped his oar and fell
back among his companions mortally wounded. Another and another shot,
always with the same fatal result. Wienersdorf had put aside all his
humane compassion: his sole aim was the deliverance of his faithful
companion. Not a bullet must be thrown away, for the shot that failed
to reach its mark would certainly imperil the safety of his friend.
Kneeling down like a bronze statue he supported the stock of his rifle
against his shoulder and aimed as if his whole existence, yea, his very
soul, depended upon the line which his bullets must follow. The index
of his right hand moved mechanically in manipulation of the trigger,
and bullet after bullet carried death to the crew of the rangkan. Four
of the oarsmen had been killed before the men could realize their
position. They had not heard the noise of the firing, owing to the roar
of the waters, but when they saw several of their crew writhing in
their last agonies, they looked anxiously around and discerned the thin
clouds of smoke rising along the dark wall of the rock. The Captain of
the rangkan endeavored to preserve some order among his men by
shouting, “Beseai bewèi,” row firmly, and the boat shot forward on its
course. But when directly afterwards three shots sounded in rapid
succession and three more of their men fell backwards, their courage
began to fail then.
They reversed their oars, and carried away by the fearful current the
rangkan shot back towards the kiham. It was now the time for Johannes
and La Cueille to play their parts in the fusillade. Their aim was not
quite so unerring as that of the Swiss, nevertheless their bullets did
such terrible execution among the Doessonese that the survivors leaped
into the water even before reaching the bottom of the fall and tried to
save themselves by swimming. This was the moment for which Harimaoung
Boekit had been anxiously waiting. Ordering the men armed with rifles
to keep up a heavy fire on the fugitives, he and his Poenans leaped
into the river, swam to the deserted rangkan and drew it safely to the
bank, where Wienersdorf already stood to receive them. Having moored
the boat, they hastened to seek Schlickeisen and found him stretched at
the bottom of the craft naked, senseless, and apparently in a high
state of delirium. His neck and breast were covered with hundreds of
minute wounds, all of which were greatly inflamed and stained with some
blue pigment. Wienersdorf divested some of his companions of their
head-cloths, which, after an effectual washing, he steeped in the cold
river water and applied to the forehead and wounded breast of the
sufferer.
They now took counsel together as to the immediate disposal of the sick
man. The most alluring plan was to sail at once for soengei Miri to
which they were already so near, but the captured rangkan could only
accommodate thirty persons, while their party numbered fifty. After
some deliberation it was agreed that Amai Kotong and a few of the
Kapoeasese and Poenans should travel overland, while the rangkan,
freighted with the others of the party, should sail down the Kahajan.
The cold applications prescribed by Wienersdorf for the inflamed wounds
of his compatriot gave him effectual relief. Johannes and La Cueille
constructed a covering of branches and leaves to shelter the patient
from the rays of the burning sun. Shortly after their departure
Schlickeisen opened his eyes and looked around; but when he tried to
move a cry of pain escaped his lips. His companions bent over him,
renewed the cold applications, gave him water to drink and by nursing
him with all possible care rendered his sufferings sensibly lighter.
When they found that his fever had abated they bathed his entire body
with the cool river water. This process removed the blue pigment with
which he seemed to have been painted all over and laid bare his white
skin, in which innumerable little punctures were discovered. Harimaoung
Boekit opened his eyes in astonishment when he saw the skin of the
European. He bent over the patient and examined him minutely, at the
same time casting an enquiring glance at Johannes, La Cueille and
Wienersdorf. They all understood this look and felt that some violent
revolution was taking place in the mind of the Poenan. Wienersdorf
immediately tore open his jacket, and in the circle of these four men
huddled around the patient, exposed his own shoulder to the Poenan
chief. When Harimaoung saw the white skin from which the katiting had
become wholly effaced, he murmured:
“Olo bapoeti!” a white man.
The son of the forest sat for a moment as if paralyzed, covering his
eyes to hide the violent emotion raging in his soul. But the conflict
was only momentary. The adventure upon the raft in lake Ampang came
before his eyes. He remembered how Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen had
saved him at kotta Djangkan when tied, like a wild animal, he was being
dragged away by his foes. Wiping his forehead as if to remove an
unwelcome thought he lifted his head, cast a look at Wienersdorf and
taking him by the hand, whispered almost inaudibly:
“No matter, thou art my elder brother.”
“And they?” asked the Swiss, pointing to the other Europeans.
“My younger brothers,” said the Poenan, shaking each of them by the
hand.
A sigh of relief escaped the breast of Johannes, who had looked upon
the scene with a throbbing heart. It was now hurriedly arranged that
the Europeans should still preserve their disguise before the others of
the band, reserving the narration of their history for some future
time.
All now turned their attention to the condition of Schlickeisen.
Harimaoung Boekit informed his companions that he was in no danger from
his wounds. He had only been tattooed. This proved to have really been
the case. When the inflammation subsided Schlickeisen related all that
had befallen him. After the disappearance of his company up the rock,
he and the four wounded Dayaks had been overtaken by a troop of
Doessonese coming down the river. They had suddenly appeared and their
attack had been so wholly unexpected, that before the Dayaks could
defend themselves they were decapitated. Schlickeisen owed his escape
from the same fate to the fact that while struggling his jacket became
torn and discovered his white skin. His assailants exclaiming “Olo
bapoeti!” threw themselves upon him, pinioned and led him away
prisoner. He heard his captors speak of carrying him to Soerapatti, who
would deliver him up to the government at Bandjermasin, in the hope of
thus securing a peaceable footing with the Dutch. Naturally they had no
idea that their prisoner was a deserter from the Dutch army. But the
proposal to spare this prisoner—a white man; the thought that so
valuable a skull should escape them, almost infuriated these wild
savages, until by way of a joke, some wag suggested that they should
tattoo him and then offer the Dutch government a tattooed white face.
One of the company then produced a pantoek, or needle, and immediately
commenced to prick small wounds on the skin of the captive, designing
the usual fantastic figures. These punctures were made by placing the
point of the needle in the skin, forcing it in by gentle taps. The
wounds were then washed with hot water to produce a copious hæmorrhage,
and afterwards with melon juice, an application which made the patient
roar with agony. When the wounds became swollen and inflamed they were
smeared with a thick solution of indigo. The sufferer was then left in
the most agonizing pain, exposed to the full force of the sun’s heat
without any covering. He suffered terrible thirst, yet no one offered
him a drop of water. A febrile condition necessarily ensued, rendering
him wholly insensible. Thus had he lain the whole night until
frightened out of his lethargy by a succession of rifle shots. He had
then called aloud for help, but tortured by the most excruciating agony
he had again lost consciousness. When recovered from this insensibility
it was to find himself surrounded by his friends.
“You have escaped through the eye of a needle,” said La Cueille, “but
it is a pity that those fellows did not paint you all the way down. You
would have looked very much like wall paper; just like that Poenan over
there. How handsome you would have been? Ah, won’t the young ladies of
Switzerland admire you!”
The sufferer smiled feebly at this remark. His friends renewed the cold
applications, and presently he fell into a sound sleep from which he
did not awake until the rangkan arrived at Oepon Batoe. He now felt so
much refreshed that he was able to step ashore without assistance. The
punctures were still somewhat painful, but the inflammation had totally
subsided and there was no sign of fever. The circles and lines on his
body remained, however, a fixed picture for the remainder of his life.
After a short interview with their women and children the party
prepared for the resumption of their journey, and before the evening
had set in they were all under way.
Forty-eight hours afterwards the fleet of our fugitives was lying
moored to the pier of kotta Rangan Hanoengoh, and the travellers
stepped on shore. The journey would have been accomplished much more
quickly if their passage along soengei Miri had not assumed the
character of a real triumphal procession. Our friends had been
compelled by the natives to make frequent delays. Everywhere they were
received with the greatest enthusiasm. The number who pressed around La
Cueille to admire the man who made mountains vomit fire, was at times
so great as to endanger the modesty of the Walloon.
Shortly after their arrival Wienersdorf had an interview with
Harimaoung Boekit, during which he related his whole history;
explaining also the causes which had driven him and his companions to
desert from Kwala Kapoeas. It was thereupon determined that the
whitefaces should still keep their nationality a strict secret, the
Poenan chief declaring that the value of European skulls in these
regions was too high to justify their risking the consequences of a
disclosure. They then proceeded to converse about the proposed
marriage, which Harimaoung now wished to see concluded. True, he had
discovered that the man was a whiteface! But had he not drunk that
man’s blood? Were they not now brothers? Aye, the whiteface had saved
his life more than once, and he was bound to him by a sacred tie. He
finally determined to refer the matter to his sister and to suffer her
to decide. Hamadoe at once declared that she loved the European and was
ready to follow him wherever he went, prepared to share his weal and
his woe. Harimaoung’s only answer was to draw the devoted girl into his
arms to kiss her passionately in endorsement of her decision.
It was now arranged that the marriage should take place as soon as
possible in order that the Europeans should prosecute their journey to
the north without delay. But the ceremony could only take place at new
moon, and that phase of lunation had just been passed. Thus
five-and-twenty days would elapse ere the ceremony could take place.
That time would, however, give full opportunity for preparations on the
grandest possible scale.
La Cueille’s projected marriage was abandoned, the young lady objecting
to leave her tribe and kindred forever to follow her husband to his
distant home. That was requiring from her too great a sacrifice,
especially after the appearance of another swain. A celebrated
head-hunter presented himself to the capricious damsel. Besides his
hand and heart he offered a magnificent string of skulls, and she at
once accepted him, vice La Cueille—deposed.
When the Walloon heard of his deposition, he bethought him of the words
of a French king well acquainted with female fickleness, and thus gave
expression to his feelings: “Souvent femme varie, bien fou qui s’y
fie.”
All this while Johannes was chafing at this enforced interruption of
his journey for so long a time as three weeks. When, however, he saw
that the delay was unavoidable, he applied himself to the utilization
of this enforced leisure by reviving his plans to improve the financial
condition of the company whose president he still considered himself.
He reminded the Poenan of his promise to trade with them for the
bezoar stones, and after a little bargaining received two hundred of
them in exchange for the small guns carried off by the deserters from
Kwala Hiang. Harimaoung Boekit also stipulated that the Europeans
should mount the guns on the batteries of his kotta, and should further
instruct his Poenans in their proper use. All willingly promised
assistance, La Cueille undertaking to be chief instructor of the school
of artillery.
The bezoar stones received in exchange for the guns were really very
fine. Some of them were of extraordinary size and would realize a
considerable sum at Singapore. When the Europeans came to estimate
their value, they cordially commended the good management of Johannes
in arranging their business so advantageously. The small heap of
greenish-gray peas lying before them in a cocoanut shell represented
about twenty thousand guilders. Johannes further informed them that he
had sold the rifles captured at Kwala Hiang for one hundred thaëls of
gold dust.
“Hurrah!” cried the Walloon, “that is six thousand guilders. I have a
good mind to open a gun factory here. These hundred thaëls added to the
bezoar stones give a total of over twenty-six thousand guilders. We are
getting on in the world.”
“Ah,” said Johannes smiling, “that is not yet all. I have agreed with
Harimaoung Boekit and Amai Kotong to go gold digging to-morrow morning.
We shall find ample employment at that work as long as we remain in
this place, and according to what I hear I expect it to turn out a very
profitable game. Then besides there is all our merchandise to dispose
of. Only leave everything to me and see how well I shall manage.”
Next morning our adventurers started gold digging operations. Before
setting out Harimaoung Boekit made them promise to observe all the
usual formalities in order to evade the vengeance of the sarok boelau,
especially, as he personally did hot wish for a second attack of fever.
The customs prescribed were as follows: During the time that they were
employed in gold digging they must never approach a coal fire—must
never seat themselves with legs hanging down—but always
cross-legged—must scrupulously abstain from touching iron or steel, and
finally must never, when bathing, turn against the stream. To all these
instructions our friends promised to conform and they started on their
new enterprise. They sailed down soengei Miri on a raft for a short
distance and soon arrived at their destination. The raft was then
moored by means of a ladder let down to the bottom of the river and
there secured by means of heavy stones. Provided with wooden basins
they went down into the stream, descended to the bed of the river and
filled their bowls with auriferous sand, which they immediately
conveyed to the raft for examination. The bowls were of the size of a
large plate, about fifteen-inch diameter, scooped out in the centre.
The work, being strange to the Europeans, was at first awkwardly
executed. There was many a laugh and joke at their expense when through
some clumsy movement they suffered the stream to sweep away the entire
contents of their bowls. They gradually became more expert and after
their first success became infected with gold fever. Thus they labored
all the day without cessation and when at nightfall they were forced to
suspend their operations, Harimaoung proceeded to weigh the day’s
collection. He found that they had gathered half a thaël, which he
valued at about thirty guilders.
“That is not much,” said the Poenan, “but when my brothers are a little
handier at the work the result will be more satisfactory.”
Nevertheless, the result was sufficiently remunerative to make the
adventurers enchanted with gold washing. La Cueille especially was
awfully excited. He talked of nothing but gold-seeking, and even in his
sleep was haunted with the wildest dreams about the precious metal.
The labor was continued for several days consecutively, and as
predicted by Harimaoung Boekit with constantly increasing success.
There were days when the collections amounted to five thaëls. The gold
was generally found in the shape of a fine, soft powder, but
occasionally it was met with in the form of scales, threads or small
nuggets. The larger nuggets, never exceeding the size of large peas,
were rarely found, though Harimaoung Boekit informed them that some
time ago nuggets one inch in diameter had been taken.
La Cueille as a professional miner was naturally more observant than
his companions. He noticed that gold dust was invariably found in
proximity to a glittering white sand.
One day when through a lazy fit of the natives the Europeans were
doomed to inaction, La Cueille was wandering about the neighborhood
when he stumbled over a hole hidden by some foliage and nearly
dislocated his ankle. The hole was simply a fissure in the yellow clay
soil of the bank of a small rivulet. Upon extricating his foot he found
it quite covered with the white sand. He enlarged the fissure with his
hands, removed the foliage and proceeded to work downwards. The
excavated sand exhibited unusually rich traces of gold. La Cueille
therefore hastened for his basin, but also brought with him his spade
and pickaxe, having a presentiment that he would be amply rewarded for
a little extra labor. The result was marvellous: the deeper he
penetrated into the soil the more auriferous grew the sand, until he
finally arrived at a layer of blinding white sand, from the midst of
which the precious metal shone forth as if all the treasure of the
world had been stored there. He filled his basin and hastened to the
brook, where, after a hurried washing, he found collected in the hollow
of his dish several nuggets the size of a pea. He pursued his
operations and soon discovered that the deeper he penetrated the rarer
became the white sand, but the larger and more numerous grew the
nuggets, until at the bottom of the hole he found a few as large as a
bean, and of the purest quality. Beneath this layer there was only,
however, gray clay, without any trace of gold. The Walloon now became
almost mad with joy as he gazed upon his treasure spread out before him
and glittering in the rich sunlight. He danced around it in the most
fantastic manner and in his excitement displayed the most childish
folly. He carefully covered the little heap with leaves and branches
and hurried to the kotta to inform Johannes of his find. They sallied
forth together provided with a sack to bring home the booty. When
secured and weighed it was found to represent four hundred thaëls, or
about forty pounds of pure gold.
“I never expected to be so lucky,” exclaimed La Cueille. “Let me see,
four hundred times sixty guilders.”
“Exactly twenty-four thousand guilders,” said Johannes. “That is a
handsome haul which you made there. I heartily congratulate you.”
“And added to the other twenty-six thousand of the bezoar stones—that
makes exactly fifty thousand guilders.”
“To which you may safely add another ten thousand, as the yield of the
gold dust already found and which we may yet find, besides a little
barter I am thinking of doing.”
The Walloon was excited with joy and exclaimed:
“Over sixty thousand guilders, and divided into four equal shares—will
give more than sixteen thousand to each person.”
The others nodded an assent: then taking the Walloon’s hand they
pressed it warmly. La Cueille had shown himself to be a faithful
companion, for he had never thought of appropriating the gold to his
own use, although he alone had found it.
“I knew,” said Johannes, “that I was not mistaken in him.”
Wienersdorf, who had been meditating, now remarked: “It is all very
well that La Cueille has found this gold, but how are we to carry it
away with us?”
“Pray don’t trouble yourself about that,” rejoined Johannes.
“Not trouble about it?” asked Wienersdorf. “Perhaps you mean to forward
it by railroad or express!”
“Ah, it will take some time yet ere the whistle of the locomotive will
be heard in these parts. But listen! We will carefully separate the
nuggets from the gold dust. For the former we will make leathern belts
doubly lined. Each of us will carry one of these belts filled with
about eight pounds of gold. For the gold dust we will make four walking
sticks or leaping poles., employing for the purpose Dayak blow-pipes.
Let me, however, advise, if you pay visits on the road never to leave
your walking cane behind you.”
“By George, no,” said La Cueille, “especially as we could not advertise
them in the morning papers, offering a reward to the honest finders.
But a belt around one’s waist weighing eight pounds, and a
walking-stick of two pounds’ weight in one’s hand, will be no treat in
addition to the burden we shall have to carry on our journey.”
“Quite so. Besides your rifle and cartridge-box you will have to carry
on your back a basket of provision and reserve ammunition. But all this
we will arrange hereafter. If, however, you imagine that our
possessions are to be easily transported you are greatly mistaken. That
train about which Wienersdorf joked just now is not ready yet,
therefore you will be compelled to carry your treasure yourselves.”
“So you see again that nothing in this world is perfect,” said the
Walloon.
“Now that I am a rich man, I naturally long for others to do the work
for me.”
Johannes now thought of finding some means for disposing of the goods
which he had procured from Baba Poetjieng, from Bapa Andong and from
kotta Baroe, with the view of trading with the Olo Ott. Now that they
had amassed a considerable fortune this barter seemed unnecessary, but
Johannes was anxious to witness himself and to show his companions the
Dayak manner of doing business. He therefore talked the matter over
with Harimaoung, who found the plan perfectly feasible. Everything was
therefore prepared for the trading expedition and one fine morning our
four white friends, accompanied by Dalim, Harimaoung Boekit and Amai
Kotong, sailed up soengei Miri in a rangkan chartered for the purpose.
The journey was rather a long one. On the third day the travellers
reached soengei Danom Pari, where they landed at a gigantic and
umbrageous tree near the brink of the river. At the foot of the tree
they spread mats, upon which they placed heaps of salt, glass beads,
articles of clothing—such as jackets and ewahs made of coarse linen or
bark; about twenty mandauws, several pieces of iron, a few dozen rudely
manufactured knives and numerous parcels of tobacco made into little
bunches. All these were laid out separately on the extemporized stall.
Some edibles were added consisting of cakes. The drinkables were
represented by a huge jar of toeak.
“I should not object to stand sentinel over that jar,” said La Cueille.
“For fear of its running away?” asked Johannes, smilingly. “You had
much better leave it alone, for the jar would not be able to take care
of you and, I assure you, you require to be taken care of in these
quarters. We are in the domains of the Otts, of whom I will tell you
more by and by.”
When the goods had been all displayed, Harimaoung Boekit took a metal
gong, suspended it from the branch of a tree and with a piece of wood
struck several blows, the echo of which was heard all over the forest.
They listened attentively for about ten minutes and hearing no response
the Poenan repeated his strokes on the gong. Then from a distance a
number of similar sounds were heard; they were muffled as if they had
proceeded from a hollow tree. Harimaoung Boekit now bade his companions
re-enter their rangkan, struck another blow on the gong and the whole
party rowed down the river a mile and a half, where they halted and
waited in mid-stream.
“I am blessed if I see how we are ever to get our goods back again,”
said Schlickeisen.
“Don’t be alarmed,” replied Johannes, “only wait.”
They had not to wait very long. A couple of hours afterwards the gong
sounded and the rangkan obeyed the signal by sailing up the soengei to
the original position.
They returned to their stall and inspected its condition. La Cueille
made the first discovery; he cried out in dismay:
“Look here, our toeak jar is empty!”
But his astonishment as well as that of his companions became greater
still when they proceeded to take stock of their goods recently
submitted to their invisible customers. Next to each article offered
for trade there had been something placed as its proposed equivalent.
One or more bezoar stones, some heaps of gold dust, tiger skins, were
thus offered in exchange for a mandauw, a dress, a knife, some tobacco
or glass beads.
“But what next?” asked Wienersdorf.
“Let us look well and estimate the value of the things,” said
Harimaoung. They then carefully went over their stock and its proffered
price and found that most of the articles offered in exchange exceeded
in value the wares disposed for sale. The salt especially seemed to be
in the highest demand by the Olo Ott, for the largest heaps of gold
dust were tendered on barter for that commodity. As our traders were
satisfied with their prices the Poenan collected all the things left by
the Olo Ott and had them conveyed to his rangkan. The stall containing
their own goods was left intact. Harimaoung then struck his gong
violently as a signal and proceeded to take it down and convey it to
his canoe, when the journey homewards was at once commenced. On making
up their balance-sheet, Johannes perceived that for the rubbish offered
by the Europeans for traffic they had received one hundred bezoar
stones, about six thaëls of gold dust and a large number of tiger
skins. These last were ordered by Johannes to be converted into jackets
which would be of great service to them during their projected march
through the wilderness.
“By jingo,” said La Cueille, “this is profitable business. It beats the
wholesale merchants hollow.”
“But suppose,” asked Wienersdorf, “the Otts had not left sufficient
value for our goods, what should we have done?”
“In that case,” answered Dalim, “we should have simply removed our
goods and left theirs.”
“And suppose they had taken away our goods without leaving anything
instead?”
“Such a case has never occurred,” Johannes explained. “The most
implicit confidence is observed in this mode of barter without the
parties being known to each other. It did once occur that some Malay
merchants, in removing their property, took away some of the articles
offered in exchange by the Otts. But they had scarcely gone half-way up
the soengei ere they were overtaken and made to pay for their
dishonesty with their lives.”
“You say that the traders never see each other? Is that really the
case?”
“Always. Whenever the Otts show themselves, it means war and one of the
parties is sure to be annihilated.”
“What kind of fellows are these Olo Otts?”
“Ah! now you ask me more than I can answer. I have never seen them
myself; but ask the Poenans and you will hear that they are half
monkeys and have tails.”
“Tails!” echoed La Cueille, quite amazed.
“Yes; tails, my worthy Walloon,” said Johannes smiling. “Don’t forget
that you also once had a tail: at least your forefathers had; and if——”
“Your forefathers, perhaps, not mine,” was the angry rejoinder of the
Walloon.
“And,” continued Johannes calmly, “if you only examine the end of your
spinal column you will find that the last vertebra feels as if it had
been broken off. Some savants might attempt to prove that that is only
the result of our habit of sitting down, by which the original tail
became worn off. This peculiarity they pretend has been since continued
from generation to generation. Is not that the case, Wienersdorf?”
“Quite so: Adams, Schlegel, and later on, Darwin——”
“Stop, stop,” cried La Cueille, “we don’t know any of those gentlemen!”
“And yet it is really a positive fact,” continued Johannes, “which many
savants have accepted, that here in Borneo tribes do exist rejoicing in
the luxury of a tail. According to them this tail is nothing but a
small motionless elongation of the spinal column. The bearers of this
appendage always carry with them small pierced boards about six or
eight inches long, upon which they sit in order that the excrescence
may not interfere with their comfort. As for these Olo Otts, they are
looked upon as the aborigines of Borneo, gradually driven back into the
wilderness by other tribes. They are extremely shy, very treacherous,
and head-hunters, and by no means averse to a titbit of human flesh
with or without salt and lombok. They have no kampongs, neither are
they of a social disposition. They live together in families, which are
however sufficiently large to form bands of from twelve to fifteen
males. Whenever the alarm is sounded on the hollow trees of these
forests they speedily assemble from all directions until they muster a
couple of hundred valiant men. Houses in our sense of the term they
have not. They make a kind of nest in a large tree and live in it. For
the rest they move about on the tops of the trees of these woods, with
an amount of ease of which we can form no idea. They are only surpassed
by the kahios, boehies and other monkey tribes. You may, however, rest
assured that from the moment we entered their neighborhood we were not
unobserved for a single moment. Even now, though we do not see them,
they are nevertheless close around us.”
“The deuce they are,” muttered La Cueille, “we had better move on a
little faster and get out of their way.”
They rowed on steadily and the rangkan descended the stream quickly and
peacefully.