ON THE EQUATOR
BY
H. DE W.
CASSELL, PETTER, GALPIN & CO.
_LUDGATE HILL, LONDON E.C._
To
JOHN LANCASTER, ESQ.,
OF
BILTON GRANGE, NEAR RUGBY, WARWICKSHIRE.
This Volume
IS DEDICATED, WITH THE BEST WISHES OF
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Our Plan of Travel Outfitters--Journey to Marseilles--
Departure--"The Inevitable"--Journey Out--Singapore--
Leave for Kuching--The _Aline_--"Talang-Talang"--The
Sarawak River--Kuching--The Bazaar, &c.--Comfortable
Quarters 9
CHAPTER II.
Territory of Sarawak--History of the Country--Raja Brooke
and Muda Hasim--Rebellions in Sarawak--Brooke proclaimed
Raja--Chinese Insurrection--Military and Naval
Establishment--Exports--Progress of Sarawak--Death of Sir
James Brooke 24
CHAPTER III.
Kuching--Society--The Club--Amusements--The _Sarawak
Gazette_--The Bazaar--Health of Kuching--Life in
Kuching--Rats--Preparations for Journey to the Matang
Mountain 36
CHAPTER IV.
Travel in Borneo--Travelling Boats--Leave for Matang--
Our Crew--Alligators--Mosquitoes--Matang Bungalow--The
Garden--Ascend the Mountain--The Waterfall--A Nasty
Jump--View from the Summit--Snakes--Return to Kuching 44
CHAPTER V.
The Rejang Residency--Wild Tribes of the Interior--Start
for Rejang--Timber Ships--Sibu--Attack by Katibus--A
Dinner Party--The Fireship--Kanowit--"Jok"--Kanowits'
Dwellings--Human Heads--"Bones" and "Massa Johnson" 58
CHAPTER VI.
Leave Kanowit--Scenery--War Canoes--Arrive at Kapit--
Wild Tribes--Kayan Burials--Head Feast--Lat--His
Family--Tattooing--The Sumpitan--Kayan and Dyak War
Dances--The Kok-Goo--The Bock Expedition to Central
Borneo--Cannibalism--Return to Kuching 75
CHAPTER VII.
Sport in Borneo--The Orang-Utan--His Habits--Start for
Sadong--A Rough Journey--Sadong--The Fort and Village--L.
Capsized--The Mines--Our Cook--The Abang--Start for Mias
Ground--Our Hunt for Orang--Lost in the Forest--Leave for
Sadong--An Uncomfortable Night--Small-Pox--Manangs--A Dyak
Don Juan--Return to Kuching 93
CHAPTER VIII.
Preparations for Departure--Leave Sarawak--A Squall--A
Dutch Dinner--Batavia--Weltereoden--Life in Java--
Buitenzorg--Koerapan--Dutch Soldiers--A Review--Modes
of Execution in the Archipelago--The World-Wide
Circus--Return to Singapore--Leave for Europe--Gibraltar 114
CHAPTER IX.
Cadiz Custom-House Officers--Spanish Courtship--
Marketplace--Leave for Seville--Jerez de la Frontera--
Seville--Pilate's House--Las Delicias--Triana--Madrid--
Bull Fighting--"Espadas"--A Bull Fight--Frascuelo--
Cruelty to Horses--Leave for Paris--A Stormy Passage--
Home Again--Adieu 128
ON THE EQUATOR.
CHAPTER I.
Our Plan of Travel Outfitters--Journey to Marseilles--
Departure--"The Inevitable"--Journey Out--Singapore--
Leave for Kuching--The _Aline_--"Talang-Talang"--The
Sarawak River--Kuching--The Bazaar, &c.--Comfortable
Quarters.
It was on the 13th of April, 1880, that, accompanied by an old College
friend (whom throughout these pages I shall call L.), I left London
for the Eastern Archipelago, _via_ Marseilles and Singapore, our
destination being Sarawak, the seat of government of Raja Brooke in
the island of Borneo. Our expedition had been a long-projected one,
but it was not until the latter end of March, 1880, that we finally
decided to start.
Thanks to the small experience gained from a former voyage to these
parts we successfully resisted the efforts of our outfitters to supply
us with, in addition to what was really necessary, almost every
useless thing ever heard of, from a cholera-belt to a velvet smoking
suit. We were, however, resolved to take nothing more than was
absolutely necessary, as on a journey of this kind nothing is more
embarrassing than a large amount of luggage. A small but complete
outfit was therefore got together, which was easily carried in one
small overland trunk, one small portmanteau for cabin use on board
ship, and a gun-case each. This we afterwards found ample to contain
all the necessaries required.
On the evening, then, of the 13th of April, we stood on the platform
of the Charing Cross Station, awaiting the departure of the mail train
for Dover, and--our luggage duly registered for Paris--we ensconced
ourselves in a smoking-carriage, and lit up the fragrant weed, not
sorry that we were really off at last.
Our journey to Paris was pleasant enough--a quick run to Dover, a
smooth moonlit passage to Calais, a sound sleep in a comfortable
_coupé lit_, and we awoke to find Paris around us, white and cheerful
in the bright spring sunshine. Putting up at Meurice's Hotel, three
days were enjoyably spent here, and on the 17th we left for
Marseilles, which was reached at 6.30 a.m. on the 18th, after a
tedious journey of twenty hours. We at once drove to the ship, on
alighting at the railway station, not forgetting to purchase on our
way through the town those essentials on a long sea voyage, a couple
of cane easy-chairs.
On arrival at the quay we found active preparations for departure
going on, as the ship was to sail at 10 o'clock a.m.; and, being
Sunday, she was thronged with holiday-makers, who had come to see her
off. Having got on board, we dived below and installed ourselves in a
comfortable and roomy cabin (which we were lucky enough to get to
ourselves the entire voyage), and returned on deck to watch the busy
scene. The hubbub and the noise were deafening, for the squeakings of
some sixty or seventy pigs, which were being hoisted on board a vessel
alongside bound for Barcelona, added to the din, and combined to make
what the French would call "_un vacarme infernal_."
By 9.30, however, decks were cleared of all but passengers, and at 10
precisely hawsers were cast off, and we steamed out of harbour.
Our vessel, the _Sindh_, was a very fine one of over 3,000 tons
burthen, and our fellow-passengers chiefly Dutch and Spanish bound for
the Eastern Archipelago and Manilla, a few French, and but seven
English including ourselves. Among the latter was an individual who is
usually to be met with on the ships of the P. & O. Company and those
of the Messagéries Maritimes, though more frequently on the former. L.
and I christened him "The Inevitable," as a voyage to India or China
can rarely be made without coming across him. He is invariably an
Englishman, and my Indian readers will readily recognise him when I
say that he is always (in his own estimation!) perfectly _au fait_ on
every subject whatever, be it political, social, or otherwise, that he
always knows how many knots the ship has run during the night, and is
continually having what he calls "a chat" with the captain and
officers of the vessel he is on, returning to tell the first unlucky
passenger he may succeed in button-holing the result of his
conversation. He is also a great hand at organising dances and
theatricals on board, and constitutes himself master of ceremonies or
stage-manager at either of these entertainments. Our specimen of the
genus, however, subsided soon after leaving Naples, finding all his
lectures in vain, and confided to us his intention of "never coming
out again by this infernal line"--a consummation most devoutly to be
wished for the sake of the Messagéries Maritimes.
Among our number was also an amusing Yankee, fresh from the States,
and bound for Singapore, who announced his intention of "getting to
windward of those 'Maylays' before he'd been long in the clearin'."
The arrangements on board the _Sindh_ for the comfort of passengers
were simply perfect--a roomy cabin (cool even during the severe heat
in the Red Sea), good bath-rooms, and, above all, civility from every
one connected with the ship, was the order of the day on board. The
food and cooking were excellent, fresh meat and fish, and a good
French salad, being provided for dinner daily--even during the run
from Point de Galle (Ceylon) to Singapore, in which no land is touched
at for nine days--and a good sound claret, iced, supplied at every
meal free of charge. When it is considered that the first-class fare
from London to Singapore (including the journey through France) is
only £70 5s., it is to be wondered how the passenger fares of this
line can even be made to cover the outlay.
It would scarcely interest the reader to be told how we beguiled the
long tedious days at sea with ship's quoits, "Bull," and other mild
amusements of a similar nature, or the still longer evenings with
whist; how we went ashore at dirty glary Port Said, and drank bad
coffee, while a brass band of German girls discoursed anything but
"sweet music"; how "the inevitable" made a desperate effort to get up
a dance in the Red Sea on one of the hottest nights, but was instantly
suppressed by force of numbers, determined, though well-nigh prostrate
from the heat; or how we went to the Wakwalla Gardens at Galle, to
drink cocoa-nut milk and admire the first glimpse of tropical
scenery. Suffice it to say, that on the 15th of May we arrived at
Singapore, after a singularly quick passage from Marseilles. Bidding
adieu to our fellow-passengers, including "the inevitable," who of
course recommended us to the best hotel in the place (though I very
much doubted his ever having been there before), we entered a little
red box on wheels drawn by a Java pony, which is designated a
"gharry," and drove to Emmerson's Hotel, near the Esplanade. This was
reached after a drive of four miles under a blazing sun, and we were
not sorry to find ourselves located in two good bed-rooms, which felt
delightfully cool and airy after our comparatively close cabin on
board. After a cold bath, doubly enjoyable by its contrast with the
lukewarm sea-water we had been accustomed to during the voyage, it was
not long ere we were doing justice to an excellent breakfast under the
cool swing of the punkah.
Singapore is an island 27 miles long by 14 broad, and is divided from
the main land, or Malay peninsula, by a narrow strait of
three-quarters of a mile broad. The town consists of about 70,000
inhabitants, comprising Europeans, Indians, Chinese, and Malays, the
two latter forming the bulk of the population. It is well laid out,
and from the sea presents a very picturesque appearance. The
neighbourhood is slightly undulating and well wooded, and the country
around studded with well-built and substantial houses, belonging to
the European merchants and other officials in Singapore. No Europeans
live in the town, as the heat there during the south-west and even
north-east monsoon is insupportable. The Esplanade, which faces the
sea, and near to which our hotel stood, is the fashionable drive, and
where the inhabitants enjoy the sea-breezes when the heat of the day
is over. The horses and carriages here, however, were a sorry sight,
the former being nearly without exception cast-offs from Australia,
and sent here as a last resource. The carriages, too, were fearfully
and wonderfully made contrivances, and would have caused the
inhabitants of Long Acre to shudder, could they have seen them.
The view of the roadstead from the Esplanade is very striking, and is
generally alive with shipping of all kinds and nations, from the smart
and trim British man-of-war to the grimy collier, and from the rakish
Malay prahu to the clumsy junk laden with produce from China. These
latter are, however, fast dying out, and most of the larger Chinese
firms have now steamers.
We were anxious to make as short a stay in Singapore as possible, and
therefore made inquiry the day after our arrival as to the best means
of getting over to Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, and a journey of
forty-eight hours by sea. What was our dismay to find that the _Raja
Brooke_, the only steamer running between Kuching and Singapore, had
left the day before, and would not be back for a week at the very
least. As she made a stay of five days at either place every trip,
this was anything but pleasant news, as nearly a fortnight must elapse
ere we could leave Singapore. Luckily, however, the Sarawak Government
gunboat _Aline_, which had been into dock at Singapore, was then lying
in the roads, and sailing for Kuching in two days' time, and through
the kindness of the Sarawak agents we were offered a passage in her.
This we gladly accepted, agreeing to be on board the following
Thursday at 10.30 p.m., the _Aline_ sailing at 11.
On the evening appointed, accordingly, we set out from our comfortable
hotel to embark. The weather, which had all day been oppressively hot,
had suddenly changed, and the rain was now pouring down in torrents.
To make matters worse it was as dark as pitch, and it was some time
ere, after shouting ourselves hoarse, we could procure a sampan to
take us on board. The _Aline_ was luckily lying close in-shore, and we
stood on her deck, after a short pull in the sampan, wringing wet. A
pleasant welcome from her captain, however, dry clothes, and a glass
of grog in her cheerful and well-lit cabin, soon set things right, and
we turned in and slept soundly, undisturbed by the bustle and noise
that always attends the departure of a ship.
We were awoke at six next morning, and, swallowing a cup of most
excellent coffee, _Sarawak grown_, went on deck. The sun shone
brightly, and the air felt cool and fresh after the rain of yesterday.
No land was in sight, and with a fair wind and sail set we were making
good way through the water.
The _Aline_ is the largest of the gunboats (of which there are four)
belonging to the Sarawak Government. She is about 200 tons, schooner
rigged, and carries two 32-pounders, fore and aft. Her accommodation,
state rooms and saloon, are forward, a good plan in the tropics, as
the smell of steam and hot oil from the engine-room are thus avoided,
and it is also cooler than aft when the vessel is under weigh. The
quarters of the crew are aft; and I was surprised to see how clean and
neat everything on board was kept, the more so that the ship's company
consisted entirely of Malays, who are proverbially careless and dirty
in these matters. She had but two European officers, the captain and
engineer. The former, Captain K., who had been in these seas for many
years, had some interesting tales to tell of the old pirate days,
when Sir James Brooke first visited Borneo in his yacht the
_Royalist_.
Our voyage across was very enjoyable, and our host a very agreeable
companion. It seemed but a short time, then, since our departure from
Singapore, that on the 25th of May at 4.30 p.m. we sighted the high
lands of the island of Borneo; the mountain of Gunong Poë, in Dutch
territory, towering high above the rest. By eight o'clock we were
abreast of Cape Datu, a long spit of land running far out to sea, and
the southernmost point of Sarawak territory. Rounding this we passed
Sleepy Bay, in which a boat in search of pirates, commanded by an
officer of H.M.S. _Dido_, was nearly captured by them some years ago.
The whole crew, including the watch, had fallen asleep one night while
at anchor in the bay, but one of their number happening to wake just
in time, gave the alarm, just as the pirate prahus, which had pulled
out from the land, were within about thirty yards of them. A sharp
skirmish ensued, and the Illanuns were at length driven off, but had
they not been warned in time the English must have perished to a man,
as these ruffians made it a rule to spare none but _Hajis_, or
Mahometans who have made a pilgrimage to Mecca. The bay derives its
name from this occurrence.
At daybreak the next morning we were summoned on deck by Captain K. as
we were passing _Talang-Talang_, or Turtle Island, and should shortly
be off the mouth of the Sarawak river. _Talang-Talang_ is a small
island literally swarming with turtle, whose eggs form a staple
article of commerce in the Sarawak market. The mode of procuring them
is curious. Turtles lay only at night, and having dug holes in the
ground deposit their eggs therein, and cover them over with sand.
Natives who have been on the watch then place sticks in the ground to
mark the place where they may be found, and they are the next morning
dug out in enormous quantities, and exported to various parts of
Borneo and the adjacent islands. The eggs have a stale fishy flavour,
are very sandy, and to my mind extremely nasty, although they are
considered a great delicacy by the natives, who eat them raw with
their curry.
By seven o'clock we were entering the Santubong mouth of the Sarawak
river. There are two entrances to this; the other, Moratabas, some few
miles farther down the coast, being the larger, is used by men-of-war
and other large craft. Vessels of 300 tons and under, however, always
use the Santubong entrance, excepting during the north-east monsoon,
when it is unsafe for vessels of any size, and Moratabas is always
used. The Santubong entrance is far superior to the other as far as
scenery is concerned. On the right bank of the river, its base
stretching for some way out to sea, stands the Peak of Santubong,
rising to a height of over 2,000 feet, and covered with dense forest
to a height of nearly 1,700 feet, from which point a perpendicular
sandstone precipice rises to the summit.[1] At the foot of the hill,
and almost hidden by trees which surround it, lies the little fishing
village of Santubong, inhabited by Chinese and Malay fishermen.
Kuching is supplied daily with fresh fish from this place. The
left-hand bank is a flat, swampy plain of impenetrable jungle, having
its river banks lined with mangroves and nipa palms. This extends for
about ten miles inland, until the mountain of Matang, which can
plainly be seen from the mouth, is reached, and on the near side of
which lies the capital, Kuching.
The journey up river from the mouth is flat and uninteresting, and
little is to be seen but nipa and other palms on either side, and
although Kuching is but seven miles from Santubong as the crow flies,
it is quite twenty by river. It was not till ten o'clock, therefore,
that signs of civilisation commenced, in the shape of a few Malay
houses built close to the water's edge. These are usually built in
the same manner on piles of wood of ten to fifteen feet high, the
walls and roof being made of "atap," or the leaf of the nipa-palm
dried, and the flooring of "lanties" or split bamboo.
The Chinese brick-yards and potteries of "Tanah Puteh," a suburb of
Kuching, came into view shortly after this, and immediately after this
Fort Margaret, which stands on a hill on the left-hand bank of the
river, and commands the entrance to Kuching, and, rounding the bend
that hides it from our view, we now come to the town itself, so unique
and picturesque a place that a far abler pen than mine is needed to do
justice to its description.
Lining the right bank of the river, which is here about 400 yards
broad, is the Chinese Bazaar extending for nearly a quarter of a mile
along the shore, the houses, which are of brick, presenting a very
curious appearance, with their red roofs and bright-coloured
façades--the latter, in the case of some of the wealthier owners,
embellished with designs of porcelain and majolica ware. The row of
acacia trees which line the street from end to end would give the
place rather the look of a boulevard in a small French town were it
not for the palms growing at the back of the Bazaar, and the Chinese
junks and Malay craft moored alongside the bank. At the end of the
Bazaar, and separated from it by a small stream running into the main
river, which is crossed by a wooden bridge, is the Chinese joss-house,
an imposing edifice erected by the principal Chinese merchants here at
a cost of over 10,000 dols.[2]
Next to the "Pangkalan Batoo," or principal landing-place, is the
prison, a large stone building, on the right of which is the Borneo
Company's (Limited) Wharf; and behind this again stands the Court
House, containing all the Government offices, such as Treasury,
Post-Office, &c., and wherein the Court of Justice is held.
Stone buildings cease here, and the Malay town extends for half a mile
up both banks of the river.
On the left bank, in the midst of beautifully laid-out gardens, is the
"Astana," or Palace of the Raja, a handsome stone building built in
three blocks, connected with each other by means of small bridges. The
centre building, which is surrounded by a fine broad verandah,
supported by massive stone pillars, contains drawing-room,
dining-room, library, and billiard-room, and is flanked by a tower
which forms the principal entrance. The buildings on either side of
this consist of sleeping apartments, while on the right of the house,
and standing on somewhat lower ground, is a bungalow set apart for the
use of guests. With the exception of the fort and commandant's house,
the "Astana" is the only building on this side of the river. The
passage across to the opposite shore, or town side, is made by means
of boats built on the model of the Venetian gondola, and propelled by
paddles, there being as yet no bridge.
The _Aline_ was anchoring off the town when a message was brought us
from the Raja, who kindly offered to place the "Astana" bungalow
aforementioned at our disposal during our stay in the country. We
gladly availed ourselves of his invitation, and were soon ashore and
comfortably installed in our new quarters.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: The outline of this mountain, as seen from Kuching, bears
a remarkable likeness to the profile or side face of the late Raja,
Sir J. Brooke.]
[Footnote 2: About £2,000.]