On our way down the Rejang we stayed one evening at Sibu. Arriving
there about sunset, we took a walk round the Chinese Bazaar to look
at the shops and say good-bye to some of our friends. The Chinese are
supposed to have been the first people to discover camphor, and Sibu
Bazaar is one of the principal dépôts for it in Sarawak. In early days
camphor was purchased for about $10 a cattie (1⅓ lb.), but the price
has now risen to three times that amount. Chinese merchants all over
Sarawak buy this commodity from the natives and send it to Singapore.
The camphor seekers in the forests of Sarawak go through a great many
superstitious rites in order to find good supplies. Sometimes they stay
in the forests for weeks together, having only salt and rice for their
sustenance.
The Rejang river is rich in many articles of export: indiarubber,
gutta-percha, beeswax, mats, ebony, beads, and geliga or bezoar
stones, the latter being found in the stomach of three species of
monkeys--wah-wahs, jelu-merahs, and jelu-jangkits. The natives kill
these animals with the blow-pipe, and about seven out of every ten
are said to contain these valuable and rare stones, highly prized by
Chinamen, who buy them at extremely high prices. Bezoar stones are also
to be found in porcupines, but they are rarer, and are, in consequence,
even dearer than those found in monkeys. A small species of rhinoceros
also exists and roams about not far from Kapit Fort; these animals are
to be met with near a limestone mountain, called the Mountain of the
Moon. The creatures are hunted and killed by the natives for the sake
of their horns, which the Chinese scrape into powder, mix with water,
and give as a medicine for inflammation; they also boil the dung of
these animals and use it as a medicine. The animals are not savage, and
only turn upon human beings when wounded.
One of our visits, on this evening at Sibu, was to an old Chinese
chemist, who had settled himself in the place when the Rejang was given
over to the first white Rajah. His shop was situated in the middle
of a row of houses, roofed with wooden shingles, in front of which
were wide verandahs with balustrades, floored with planks, where the
shopkeepers sat in the cool of the evening, and purchasers wandered
about them in comfort all day long, sheltered from sun and rain. The
Chinaman was very glad to see us, and Dr. Langmore was interested
to meet a colleague, for the old man was supposed to be one of the
most skilful doctors in the neighbourhood. He showed Dr. Langmore his
grated rhinoceros horn, the powdered bezoar stone, the broth made
from sharks’ fins, and on one of the counters was a steaming bowl
of tamarinds, in readiness for stomachic complaints. He was ending
his days in peace and prosperity. His dispensary was thronged from
morning to night with patients suffering from all kinds of diseases,
nervous and otherwise. The death-rate at Sibu, however, was low, so
one imagines the old man’s methods were beneficent. Nor was our old
friend quite without an eye to the future, for he owned a beautiful
coffin made of iron-wood, or bilian, which he kept polished like a
looking-glass. It was often put out in the warm, dry air, so that
it should be thoroughly well seasoned in case of emergency. The old
gentleman would sit on the edge of the coffin smoking his opium pipe
after his day’s labour--that one solace of hard-working Chinamen,
who take one pipe of opium in the evening, just as an abstemious man
enjoys his glass of whisky and water before going to bed. From my own
experience amongst the people of Sarawak, I can say with truth that
opium is not in any way such a curse to the country as are the spirits
and “fire water” sold in such large quantities all over the United
Kingdom and its colonies, with, apparently, so few restrictions. But
to return to our old friend: he would point to his coffin with pride,
for he did not dread the time when the lid would close over him and his
place in the world know him no more.
Going back to our bungalow near the Fort, we walked round the other
shops in the Bazaar: these were full of beads of dark blue transparent
glass, some opaque, ornamented with dabs of black, red, white, and
yellow. These beads are made in Venice, and find ready purchasers
amongst the poorer Dyaks, Kayans, and Tanjongs, for they are a fair
imitation of ancient beads these people dig up, sometimes by accident,
sometimes as the result of dreams. It is curious how these ancient
beads are found, and an interesting account of them may be seen in Dr.
Hose’s recent book on Sarawak. The true old beads are regarded with
great veneration by the Dyak and Kayan people. One of my Dyak friends
told me that he dreamed if he went to a certain spot in a forest rather
distant from his home, and dug under a particular tree, he would find
amongst its roots a valuable bead called lukut. He accordingly went
to the spot, dug under the tree, and there found the bead, which he
carried round his waist in a little basket, together with bits of rock
crystal, stones worn into queer shapes by water, and a peculiar-looking
seed covered with red fluff, which was believed to be the hair of a
powerful and malignant spirit, named Antu Gergasi.
We bade farewell to the Chinese apothecary and to the bead-finder, who
had escorted us to the door of our house, and the next morning we left
Sibu on our way to Simanggang. We entered the Batang Lupar River and
steamed by two green mounds, covered with trees, shaped like dumplings,
which stand at its entrance. One of these is an island, called the
Isle of Birds, where a landslip has uprooted the great trees on its
precipitous side, showing the red soil underneath. On this island is
a tomb erected to a Muhammadan lady, who lived a great many years ago
in one of the little villages near the coast, and was honoured for
her holy life and her incessant prayers to Allah. When she died, she
was buried in this little island as a special tribute to her memory.
Although a pilgrimage to her tomb requires a tedious journey across the
channel dividing the island from the neighbouring coast, the people
in this part of the country pay frequent visits to her resting-place,
taking with them on each occasion costly silks and satins to lay on her
tomb, and thus show the reverence in which she is still held by those
who appreciate her holy life.
The passage from the mouth of the Rejang had been so smooth that it
was impossible even for me to be sea-sick. The sun was setting, and in
front of us the shores of the Batang Lupar were veiled with pink smoke,
for it was now in September, and the Dyaks were burning their farms. I
saw strange, fitful lights in the western sky, fragments of pale blue
framed in golden fluff with ragged edges of copper. A colour, like a
fragment of a rainbow, was seen for an instant close by the sea, then
disappeared, whilst entanglements of gold and turquoise blue, intricate
and delicate, covered the sky. The sun dropping behind the clouds
stood out blood-red, like a glorified host; until in a few moments it
was hidden behind the sea. A gleam of gold trembled on the water; it
vanished, darkness came, and the day was done.
Our arrival at Simanggang was a pleasant one. Our dear friend, Mr.
Bailey, who for several years had ruled the district with marked
success, and Mr. Kirkpatrick, then Assistant-Resident in the Batang
Lupar, were at the wharf to meet us. Bertram and I walked up that
sweet-smelling avenue of angsana trees leading to the Fort and to the
bungalow where we were to stay, and where we spent a happy time.
A great sadness comes over me now as I write about this river, for
since Bertram’s and my visit to the Batang Lupar two of the Rajah’s
most distinguished officers have passed away. In mentioning Simanggang,
it would be a great and very ungrateful omission were I not especially
to mention these two men--Mr. Frank Maxwell and Mr. Bailey.
[Illustration: HUT CONTAINING EATABLES TO REFRESH THE GOD OF SICKNESS,
BATANG LUPAR RIVER]
Mr. Frank Maxwell lived at Simanggang, in charge of the Fort, for a
great many years, and it is almost unnecessary to remind anyone who
takes an interest in the Malayan Archipelago how famous the name of
Maxwell must for ever be in that part of the world. His father, Sir
Benson Maxwell, and his brothers, Sir William and Mr. Robert Maxwell,
are also well known for the part they have played in civilizing those
far-off Eastern lands. But it is of Mr. Frank Maxwell that I now write,
for I am able to speak with authority as to the affection in which
all the people of the Batang Lupar hold his name. He joined the Rajah’s
service as a young man of twenty-two years of age. He first of all
learned the methods of Sarawak policy under Mr. Skelton, another of the
Rajah’s loyal officers, who, alas, was destined to die young. At Mr.
Skelton’s death, Mr. Maxwell was given charge of this district, and
for years he toiled there for the benefit of the people. Head-hunters
were busy in those days in the inland country of the Batang Lupar,
and many were the expeditions led by him in order to restore peace
and trade in the vicinity. A chief, called Lang Endang, gave immense
trouble, and at one time menaced in a somewhat serious manner the
inhabitants residing in the lower waters of the Batang Lupar River.
Now that Mr. Maxwell has passed away, I do not fear his displeasure
at pointing out the manner in which he drove these enemies of the
Rajah back, thus establishing security and peace in the district. One
of these expeditions comes back forcibly to my mind as I write. Mr.
Maxwell’s health was never very good on account of constant malaria and
rheumatism, and once when an expedition was absolutely necessary he was
lying crippled with an attack of acute rheumatism in Simanggang Fort.
He was carried down to his boat and placed on a mattress, from which
he directed the operations necessary against the rebel force. During
the arduous river journey he lay almost unable to move hand or foot.
Notwithstanding these drawbacks, he led his Dyaks to victory, and when
he got back to the Fort and had leisure to be ill in comfort--although
still in great pain--he must have felt repaid for his exertions by the
grateful affection of the Malays and Dyaks, who, as I have said before,
admire above all other things courage and endurance. It was not from
Mr. Maxwell that I learned the details of this expedition, but from the
Simanggang people themselves.
The same devotion to the country distinguished Mr. Bailey, who was
content to live in the Fort situated up that green cliff overlooking
the Batang Lupar River for years and years, bereft of European society,
with the exception of the English officer under him, straining every
nerve to bring the people into civilization, to teach them the benefits
of good agriculture, and to keep them as much as possible from the
pernicious habit of head-hunting, which seems ingrained in their very
bones.
These two names which occur to me as I write are of those who have gone
beyond the influence of either praise or blame. Fortunately many of
the Rajah’s other officers are still alive, and it is only because I
have the pleasure of being their friend, and know how much they would
dislike being dragged into print, that I refrain from saying all I
should like to say about such men as Mr. Bampfylde, Mr. Harry Deshon,
and others, who have so nobly followed the example set before them by
their chief.
I know I shall be forgiven if I seize the present opportunity of
mentioning the names of some of my Englishwomen friends who have
also taken an affectionate interest in the lives of the women of our
country. The wife of the Bishop of Sarawak, Mrs. Hose, Mrs. Deshon,
Mrs. F. Maxwell, Mrs. Buck, and many others were most successful in
their sympathetic endeavours to know them well and to become their
friends. I wish these ladies could realize how much all who care for
Sarawak appreciate their work out there. Mrs. Hose, alas, died some
years ago, but her memory still lives in the hearts of the women of
Sarawak. Their other Englishwomen friends are often spoken of in
Kuching and other places in Sarawak, and the one wish of the women of
the country is that they may see them again.