TRAVELLING APPOINTMENTS—THE DIAMOND OF THE SULTAN OF MATAM—DIAMOND
FIELDS—GEORGE MULLER’S DIARY AND SKULL—MARRIAGE CEREMONIES—AGAIN ON
THE ROAD—A NOVEL BURIAL-PLACE—ON THE EQUATOR—AN INKY LAKE—THE
ASCENT OF BATANG LOEPAR.
On the following day gold washing was resumed, as our adventurers were
anxious to collect as much of the precious metal as they possibly
could. They had discovered that there would be no difficulties of
transport, the faithful Harimaoung Boekit having volunteered to conduct
them under the safeguard of thirty Poenans to the Sarawak frontiers.
Wienersdorf and his companions gratefully accepted this assistance and
made their preparations accordingly.
One morning when busy at kotta Rangan Hanoengoh preparing ammunition,
La Cueille thought he would make some cartridges. They would, he
thought, be handier for the use of the Poenans, besides being less
dangerous and less wasteful. But in order to make cartridges he must
have paper, a luxury not easily found in a Dayak kotta of mid-Borneo.
He talked the matter over with Harimaoung Boekit, showing him at the
same time one of his cartridges. As soon as the Poenan comprehended
what was needed he went indoors and returned with a pile of old books.
Most of them proved to be Bibles, printed in the Dayak language, which
are largely distributed over the interior of Borneo, though none of the
natives know how to read. Among these books, however, the Walloon found
a large MS. folio in a most imperfect condition. The volume now
consisted principally of blank leaves. Those which had been written
upon were torn and battered. There was no title-page to indicate who
was the author or owner. While turning over the leaves his attention
was drawn to a page half of which was wanting, which however bore these
words:
“Oct. 14, 1824.
“I have found that gold appears here as in other districts, in
layers—separated from each other according to the formation of the
ground, so that in one spot one might meet with a real treasure,
while in its immediate neighborhood nothing would be found. The
sand containing the gold generally lies upon a layer of light
yellow clay and is covered with a darker bituminous clay. The gold
dust originates from the friction of the nuggets and laminæ against
each other, or against stones, while they are being borne along by
the wild rush of the waters. Real mines in which the layers—”
At this point the page had been torn and the remainder was wanting.
“What a pity,” sighed the Walloon.
He turned over the page and suddenly his attention was again arrested.
“By Jove, this is interesting, I must read it.”
“July 16, 1824. I saw the large diamond of the Sultan of Matam
yesterday. By the extraordinary precautions taken, I could perceive
that it was the real one; for whenever the Sultan distrusts a
foreigner he shows him a fine djakoet which resembles the great
gem. It is a magnificent stone and was found in the kingdom of
Landak. It weighs three hundred and sixty-one carats. I weighed it
myself. In shape it is a pyramidal dodecahedron or double hexagonal
pyramid, broken at about two-thirds of its entire length, perhaps
while freeing it from its covering, as often occurs. Its form is
somewhat irregular and oblique. It is of the purest water; its
light hue somewhat tending toward rose-color being more due to
refraction caused by fissures, than to its want of purity. Its
longitudinal section is two and one-sixth inches, its lateral
measurement one and one-fourth inches. The short side of the
pyramid is one and one-third inches, and the longer one one and
one-half inches. In Dayak language it is called Sagima, angular; in
Malay, Danau Redjo, and it is estimated at a value of five million
two hundred and twelve guilders.”
“Five million guilders,” cried the astonished Walloon. “Five million
guilders! What wouldn’t I give to find a stone like that! I say, where
is Landak?”
“In that direction,” answered Johannes, pointing to the south-west.
“Shall we pass there?” asked the Walloon.
“What do you mean?” Johannes replied. “How shall we pass there when we
are journeying towards the north?”
“Look here,” said the Walloon, showing the tattered book. “A diamond
has been found in Landak valued at five million guilders. Suppose we
could find such a stone?”
“Bah! you hope to find a diamond worth over two million dollars! Your
aspirations are on the increase. Let us see what your book says about
that gem.”
Johannes took the manuscript and commenced to read. Having finished the
description of the jewel, he leisurely turned some of the pages,
becoming gradually more interested in their perusal.
“Where did you get this book?” he enquired of the Walloon.
La Cueille related how Harimaoung Boekit had given it to him among
other volumes for the purpose of making cartridges. The Poenan was now
questioned, and after thinking awhile remembered that he had
appropriated it during a head-hunting expedition among the Penhengs. He
also informed them that it had been profusely illustrated, but that the
children had torn out the pictures.
On further examination Johannes fancied that on the inside of one of
the covers, over which a blank leaf had been pasted, he could perceive
some writing. He carefully loosened the page and detached it from the
cover, when he read the following:
“All my companions have been massacred to-day. To-morrow it will be
my turn. God have mercy upon my soul.
“G. M.”
Johannes continued for some time gazing at these initials. “Good
Heavens!” he exclaimed, “may this not be the journal of George Muller,
the savant who was butchered in this country more than thirty-five
years ago! This is a real treasure-trove. Yes, undoubtedly it is
Muller’s diary.”
Harimaoung Boekit, who had gone indoors, now reappeared with a rosary
of skulls, one of which he exhibited to the Europeans. Its conformation
proclaimed that it had belonged to an individual of the Caucasian race.
“Found with the book,” said the Poenan.
Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf both implored Harimaoung Boekit to give
them that skull, but all their efforts were in vain. The possession of
a white man’s skull was invaluable to the Poenan; so carefully tying
his rosary together he took it indoors and placed it in safety.
Johannes, however, took charge of the book to protect it from further
mutilation.
Thus passed the days prior to Wienersdorf’s wedding. He had been
longing to possess his beloved Hamadoe, and Johannes had been equally
anxious to see the journey resumed.
The day of the full moon arrived at last, and early in the morning
Dalim and Johannes commenced to prepare the bridegroom for the marriage
ceremony. According to Dayak custom he had first to bathe in the river.
Then he was painted with katiting and afterwards rubbed over with
boengkang, the fat of a black cat, until his skin shone like a polished
door-plate. The nails of his hands and feet were then gilt and on his
forehead two broad red stripes were painted, which appeared like fiery
eye-brows, over-riding the brown ones which nature had given him. He
was now dressed in a karoenkoeng, or suit of rattan armor, and on his
head was placed a cap of monkey skin, ornamented with two handsome
feathers from the tail of the rhinoceros bird. The ewah, thrown around
his waist, was made of very fine beaten bark and was considered to be
of rare excellence. Dalim then clasped around his loins the state
mandauw of Harimaoung Boekit and supplied him with a shield upon which
a monstrous crocodile was painted. His toilet was then complete.
“You do look fine,” exclaimed La Cueille. “I should like to have you at
the fair at Jupille. What money I should make by exhibiting you as a
wild Indian.”
Wienersdorf was just ready when three deputies, relatives of the bride,
appeared and solemnly asked him whether he was prepared to fulfill his
marriage contract.
“I should think so,” La Cueille answered, “he is boiling over with
impatience.”
The answer having been formally given in the affirmative, each of the
deputies received a present of gold dust from the bridegroom, who
immediately accompanied them to the residence of the bride. The other
Europeans and several attendant Dayaks followed in solemn procession.
The entire population of kotta Rangan Hanoengoh had assembled in a shed
facing the house of Harimaoung Boekit. Here they were joined by numbers
of the inhabitants of other kottas who had come over to witness the
ceremony. The bride, dressed in a long silk cloak and wearing a saloi
embroidered with gold, was modestly seated among twenty of her young
companions. Bride and bride-maids had all ornamented their luxurious
hair with flowers.
As soon as the bridegroom entered Amai Kotong, as the oldest of the
company, arose and solemnly invoked Mahatara and all the Sangiangs, but
especially Kadjanka, the ruler of the moon, imploring them to guard the
young couple from all trouble and misfortune. He then loudly proclaimed
the possessions of both parties, employing the most marvellous
exaggeration, in recognition of the Dayak idea that the Deity, like
earthly beings, is more propitious towards the rich than the poor. He
next mixed in an earthen vessel the blood of a buffalo, a chicken, a
wood-pigeon and a pig, and invoked the Sangiangs to contribute to this
mixture some blood from their karbauws of chickens, etc. In order to
make the ceremony more impressive this invocation was repeated by the
eighty-four priestesses present, and was accompanied by fearful yells
and loud beatings of their katambongs.
Amai Kotong having thus acquitted himself of his part in the ceremony,
six of the oldest men of the tribe came forward with a new invocation,
which being duly recited, was paid for by the bride at a cost of two
dollars’ worth of gold dust to each elder.
Hamadoe and Wienersdorf were then ordered to seat themselves on a
garantong or metal plate, facing each other. The bridegroom was made to
uncover the upper part of his body while Amai Kotong assisted the bride
to do the same. These preparations concluded, Amai approached carrying
a jug filled with blood. He dipped his first and second fingers and the
thumb of his right hand in the gore and invoked again the blessings of
the Sangiangs on the bridegroom and his bride, as he besmeared their
forehead, shoulders, wrists, etc., with the contents of the jug. This
process was repeated by each of the six elders.
Wienersdorf then shared among the relatives of the bride the gifts
which he had prepared for presentation. Harimaoung Boekit received a
magnificent jacket of scarlet cloth, with a broad gilt collar. Amai
Kotong and the others were presented with handsome ewahs.
With these presentations the ceremony closed for the time and the noisy
multitude betook themselves to the refreshment department, which had
been most liberally provided by the Poenan chief.
At the approach of evening, while the guests were still regaling, the
husband and wife were separated. According to Dayak custom they must
not meet each other again on the wedding day. The bride was led away by
her companions, and the bridegroom was left with strict injunctions not
to sleep, lest nightmares should visit him. He therefore rejoined his
friends and shared their festivity.
As soon, however, as the sun began to reappear on the horizon, the
bride was brought out by her companions. She and her husband entered a
djoekoeng and rowed into the middle of the stream. Arrived there, she
gave the light vessel a sudden jerk which precipitated Wienersdorf into
the water. This immersion of her husband accomplished, she assisted him
to re-enter the canoe and they rowed back to the shore, where they were
received by the shouting priestesses. These priestesses then proceeded
to strew rice upon the heads of both bride and bridegroom, subsequently
introducing a chicken which they set to pick up the rice. This was
intended to symbolize the removal of all misfortunes from off the heads
of the newly-wedded pair. Toeak was now served around, and after a
parting glass all departed to their respective domiciles, leaving the
new husband and wife to the enjoyment of each other’s society.
The marriage had been solemnized and now there was nothing to prevent
our adventurers from prosecuting their journey. It was therefore
resolved to start as soon as the final preparations could be made. A
couple of days sufficed to complete all arrangements, and at daybreak
of the third day the journey was resumed. The party consisted of Mr.
and Mrs. Wienersdorf, the three other Europeans, Dalim and his
companion of Kwala Kapoeas, and Harimaoung Boekit, who, faithful to his
promise, would with a few of his followers accompany the travellers
until they should be out of danger. For their reception a large rangkan
had been provided, manned by a crew of forty Poenans, who were to serve
first as oarsmen and later on as carriers of the goods and chattels.
Under the impulse of so many oars the vessel, though carrying so many
persons, moved briskly toward the north. As long as the kotta remained
in view the occupants of the rangkan exchanged loud hurrahs with their
late friends, who finally fired a salvo from the six guns which had
been mounted on the ramparts by La Cueille. This salute was intended as
a recognition of past favors and also as a proof of the efficiency of
the artillerists offered to their departing instructor. The Walloon,
however, seemed dissatisfied.
“No. 1 of the second gun,” said he, “handles his sponge awkwardly—the
fellow should know better. No. 4 is careless in closing his vent. There
will be an accident some day.”
Rising in the boat he was about to call out to the men who were serving
the guns, when the rangkan suddenly shot around an angle of the stream
and the kotta disappeared from view.
The journey was continued up the soengei Miri, which was found to be
navigable for two more days, after which it became so shallow that
further progress had to be abandoned. At nightfall of the second day
they landed and camped, making all arrangements to continue the journey
by land on the following morning.
“Shall we not see something of the Otts?” asked Schlickeisen. “We are
now in the country, are we not?”
“Let us hope that we shall not be favored with a visit from them. To
see them means a fight for life,” said Harimaoung. “You may, however,
be sure,” continued he, “that they have seen us and that we are still
being watched by them; but they know me and we have never had any
dispute with them.”
“Yet must we be on the watch,” thought Johannes. He therefore divided
the band into two sections, to keep alternate guard during the night.
The hours, however, passed undisturbed and at daybreak the Poenans
shouldered their baskets, in which the provisions and ammunition were
stowed away. The four Europeans also carried baskets, the burden not
proving unfamiliar to them in consequence of their old experience with
the knapsack. But besides a supply of cartridges, their baskets
contained their gold dust and bezoar stones. Even Hamadoe had prepared
her basket, duly freighted with her trinkets, but when she took it up
she found it empty. Wienersdorf had unpacked it and added its contents
to his own burden. She protested, but was soon silenced with a kiss,
after which she patiently submitted. The Europeans cheerfully seized
their canes, loaded with gold dust, slung their rifles over their
shoulders and manfully took the road. A couple of Poenans moored the
rangkan in a small creek and there left it without any doubt of its
perfect safety.
“Shall you find it there when you return?” Wienersdorf asked his
brother-in-law.
“Certainly; theft is unknown here. The only article that I have to
guard is my head.”
The Swiss soon discovered that their direction lay toward a very lofty
mountain visible on the north-west. They learned, on enquiry, that this
was the Boekit Doesson. It was not a mountain range, but more like an
elevated plateau which formed the base and starting point of the
numerous peaks constituting the central highlands of the country. The
road—if the track formed by human feet among the luxurious vegetation
could be so called—was not difficult. It undulated between gently
inclining hills and only tried their powers when it became intersected
by the innumerable brooks which rushed through the deep hollows of the
clayey soil. Here, however, they generally availed themselves of the
opportunity to take a bath in the clear fluid, a refreshment which
neither gave trouble nor caused delay to the sparsely-clad travellers.
During these ablutions careful watch continued to be kept; one-half of
the men enjoyed the bath, while the remainder rifle in hand remained on
guard. Nothing of a suspicious nature was, however, observed; not a
human soul was seen. They could almost imagine themselves to be on a
desert island. But during one of these halts the travellers found
reason to know that they were not unobserved. A fine ironwood tree
adjacent to their resting-place had attracted Wienersdorf’s attention.
He approached it to gaze upon the giant which, rising like a column,
proudly erected its magnificent crown of rich foliage one hundred and
fifty feet in the air. A couple of squares formed by vertical and
horizontal cuts in the trunk, led him to fancy that the bark had been
removed by human hands. He noticed also, that the new growth over this
area was of later date than the surrounding bark. He stood there
looking a little longer and then drawing his knife he commenced to
carve a colossal W in the middle of one of the squares, intending to
add the initial of Hamadoe’s name and to enclose both in the figure of
a heart. While thus occupied a whistling noise caused him to look
around, when he saw a small arrow enter the tree between his head and
hand. With the quickness of lightning he drew back, presented his
rifle, and fired into some shrubs behind which he perceived some
movement. All his companions hurried toward, him in alarm, when he
pointed to the little arrow sticking in the tree. The Europeans
presented their rifles to clear the ground with a prompt volley.
Harimaoung Boekit, however, interposed, depressed their rifles and
uttered a cry, followed by a few words in another language not
intelligible to his companions. The Poenan then remained for some
moments in an attitude of expectation, his countenance betraying the
deepest anxiety. At last a few hoarse sounds were heard in reply,
whereupon Harimaoung’s face cleared up and he assured his friends that
all danger was passed. The people living here were Ott Njawongs, a
tribe with which he was on friendly terms, but he begged that the tree
on which Wienersdorf had commenced to carve his name should be no
further molested.
“What a queer notion,” growled La Cueille, “to cut one’s name on a tree
in the depth of a wilderness.”
“What is the matter with that tree?” asked Wienersdorf.
“The Otts have buried one of their people inside that tree,” explained
Dalim. “They burn the bodies of the dead, wrap the ashes and half
consumed bones in a shroud, bore a large hole in an ironwood tree and
place the parcel inside. They then close the orifice with rosin and
bees-wax and cover it with moss. Nature in a very short time restores
the bark and the marks gradually disappear. No one would think that
that magnificent tree with its slender trunk and broad crown forms the
grave of a human being.”
“A new model cemetery,” observed the Walloon.
At the close of the second day the travellers arrived at the foot of
Boekit Doesson, which the Poenan chief intended to climb on the
following morning in order to look for some landmark by which to
regulate his course.
The two Swiss, hardy mountaineers of the Alps as they were, were not
satisfied to be left behind and insisted upon making the ascent with
him, while La Cueille and Johannes also begged to be permitted to join
the party. It was then decided that the whole company should join in
the climbing excursion.
The journey was undertaken next morning. Their way led at first through
forests of bamboo interwoven with rattans and other creepers, which
covered the high trees and formed an almost impenetrable network,
greatly impeding their march. But the higher they went the lighter this
vegetation became, until ultimately it disappeared altogether.
It was about half-past ten when the travellers reached the broad,
gently-curved summit, which crowns every mountain of the Bornean
central highlands. They were to rest here for a couple of hours. While,
therefore, Harimaoung took his observations, Hamadoe, assisted by the
Poenans, prepared a simple repast. The rest of the troop dispersed over
the summit to look for rajoh, a fine specimen of moss found in the
highlands which is highly prized by the Dayaks.
The Europeans were charmed with the view spread out before them; they
gazed with rapture upon the panorama and feasted their eyes upon the
magnificent tropical vegetation above which they seem to be suspended.
While most of the party were thus wrapt in admiration, Johannes was
observed to be making notes on his pocketbook. “It is just seventy days
since we left Kwala Kapoeas,” said he.
“Is it as long as that?” rejoined La Cueille. “Let me see; we quitted
the fort on the tenth of January, did we not?”
“Yes, and to-day is the twenty-first of March, making exactly seventy
days.”
“The twenty-first of March!” said Wienersdorf, struck by the date.
“Then the sun must enter Aries to-day and be exactly above the equator.
Wait; I will soon find out in what latitude we are.”
Cutting a fine young cedar of about ten yards in length he removed all
its branches and planted it upright on a smooth bit of turf. He then
took his compass and verified that the short shadow of the pole pointed
due east and west.
“Error is impossible in these latitudes,” said the Swiss meditatively.
“But——that could be accidental. Perhaps there is a little local
attraction which makes the needle deviate. I shall soon see.”
“What are you muttering about?” asked La Cueille.
“Silence!” was the laconic reply of the Swiss, while he continued to
watch the shadow cast by the pole. It grew gradually less and at last
disappeared altogether. For a moment no shadow was to be seen.
“Mid-day!” cried Wienersdorf. “I have the pleasure of congratulating
you, gentlemen, upon being at the equator.”
Schlickeisen approached to look and, truly enough, no shadow could be
seen. The Boekit Doesson therefore was exactly on the equinoctial line.
“So that I am now sitting on the equator?” remarked La Cueille.
“Yes; my boy, you have that distinguished privilege.”
“I say, what joy that would cause at sea! Neptune would come on board
to greet us, and there would be drinks all around.”
“And so shall there be here. We will bid farewell to the southern
hemisphere with a hearty cheer,” Johannes said, and jumping up he
produced from one of the baskets two bottles of gin which he proceeded
to dispense among the company. The Poenans were delighted at the treat
and joined their lēēēēēh lĕlĕlĕlĕ ouiit to the hurrahs of the
Europeans, who shook hands with each other and exchanged
congratulations on their lucky escape.
“But we are not yet out of the woods,” was the pessimistic remark of
Johannes. “The worst is yet to come.”
From Boekit Doesson Harimaoung guided the travellers in a westerly
direction, keeping the crest of Boekit Lientang, which rose high above
the surrounding hills, for his beacon. Thus they reached soengei
Malahoei, which they crossed on an extemporized raft constructed of
bamboos, which were found growing here in abundance. After the passage
of the river their march was toward the north-west, until at nightfall
they approached some huts, situated near a cataract, Kiham Toeak, on
the soengei Nanga Boenoet. Harimaoung Boekit was well known here and
knew all the inhabitants intimately. He entered one of the huts and
without much trouble succeeded in purchasing for a few thaëls of gold
dust a rangkan capable of receiving the entire company.
At break of day, twenty-four hours later, our travellers found
themselves at the mouth of the Blitang, up which they rowed into Danau
Loewar, the largest of a group of lakes situated at the foot of the
Batang Loepar mountain range.
When the rangkan had gone half way across its occupants caught a
glimpse of a range of mountains bordering the northern horizon.
“There!” cried Johannes, “Once there and we are free.”
The Europeans, powerfully affected, gazed at this mountain range, drawn
like a dark blue ribbon against the light azure of the sky. For some
moments none of them could speak. All the dangers and privations which
they had encountered in getting this far seemed to pass before their
eyes and they sat solemn and silent. At last Schlickeisen asked:
“What is the name of those mountains?”
“Batang Loepar,” Johannes answered.
“How high do you consider them to be?”
“The English reckon the highest peaks to be between six and seven
thousand feet.”
“When we are once up there shall we have a long way before us?” asked
La Cueille.
“In order to reach Jupille? Yes, a very long way.”
“No; stupid,” rejoined the Walloon, “I mean before we reach the
sea-shore?”
“That, I don’t know; I have never been here before.”
This question, when put to Harimaoung Boekit, still remained
unanswered.
The Poenan chief only shook his head and smiled. He was unskilled in
the calculation of distances.
“How black the water of the lake looks,” Schlickeisen remarked, “we
seem to be sailing on ink.”
“Yes,” answered Wienersdorf, “I noticed the same on the Blitang. On
this lake, however, I find the drearily tinted water to be a mirror
fitted in a becoming frame. Observe its placid surface. Even under the
sun’s rays it is a jetty-black, while before us in glowing contrast is
the dark-green foliage of the mountain slopes. Mark too, yonder, the
gradual transition of gentle glades into rugged steeps, furnishing a
combination of beauty and sublimity rarely met with anywhere.”
It was indeed a lovely view. The beautiful mirror of water stretched
itself far to the south and south-west. Mount Tomodok was visible in
the west; the Batang Loepar range gradually rose in the north, and the
acuminating peaks of Sareboe Saratoes were piled one above another, to
be overtopped in the distant background by the summit of Japoh Poerau,
called by the English Boekit Tebong, glistening like silver under the
tropical sun.
“A glacier!” exclaimed the Swiss in their own language, pointing to the
glittering summit. “Shall we have to climb that?”
Harimaoung Boekit shook his head, implying the negative, and pointed
towards the north. Their disappointment at having to leave unvisited
that snow-clad summit seemed a little surprising to their companions.
It was mid-day before our travellers reached the northern shore of the
lake. They immediately seized their burdens and resumed their journey
on foot.
The rangkan having been carefully concealed under the direction of
Harimaoung in a spot where he could find it on his return, the Poenan
and his men hastened to join their companions on their march.
Their path at first led through a marshy tract surrounding the lake,
but this, after half an hour, was left behind and they approached the
first slopes of the mountain. Travelling was now tolerably easy. They
could perceive that considerable traffic existed along this road,
although neither man nor habitation was to be seen. They stepped on
bravely and made such rapid progress that when evening approached they
had already reached the highest point of the pass over Batang Loepar.
Here, under the shadow of the trees, they made their bivouac and the
whole of the company excepting the appointed sentries left on watch
were soon lost in profound slumber.