King of Siam, I was allowed full authority. We were sending a pair
of beautifully matched leopards to the Emperor of Austria, and they
had reached Singapore in two large, poorly constructed cages. Mr.
Anderson was there, and we disagreed on the advisability of recaging
them. I thought that the cages looked weak and I wished to have my
Chinese carpenter build two that would be smaller and stronger. Mr.
Anderson, however, was impatient to start the leopards on their
voyage, and, since he was boss, we loaded the cages on bullock-carts
and headed for the docks. In unloading one of the bullock-carts, the
natives allowed the case to slide to the ground too heavily; the cage
broke, and out went Mr. Leopard like a flash of lightning, heading
straight for the Chinese quarter. The Chinese saw him coming, and a
panic started. They tumbled over one another in getting out of the
way, and two of them were scratched. The leopard was quite as
frightened as any of the Chinese. The natives in charge of the
bullock-cart came running for me, and I went to the Chinese quarter
to find the leopard. He had taken refuge in a house, and I finally
discovered him hiding under the stairs, his eyes shining in the
darkness. Since it was impossible to get rid of the mob of Chinese
and recaging under the circumstances would have been too dangerous,
we had to shoot the animal. We took the other leopard back to
Orchard Road and built a new cage.
In 1902, just before the rainy season, I was resting in Singapore
after six months of hard work. Just as I had almost decided to go to
Europe, I happened to see in an old copy of the _New York Clipper_ an
advertisement of a steam merry-go-round. That gave me an idea; there
had never been a merry-go-round in the Malay Peninsula, and I was
confident enough of my judgment of Malay nature to gamble that it
would be a success. Mr. Lambert didn't agree with me. "Forget about
it," he advised. "Take the steamer and have a good vacation." But I
went to the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank and cabled $2,000 in gold to
the factory at North Tonawanda, New York, with instructions to ship
me the merry-go-round on the first boat, via London. It arrived nine
weeks later, and it cost me £110 in freight. The rain was beating
down steadily in Singapore, and so I transshipped it to Penang.
A few days later, I was in Penang, driving around in a rickshaw,
looking for a good location, while the merry-go-round, still in
crates, was coming ashore in sampans. Opposite the Hotel de la Paix
I found a good open space, and I routed out of bed the Chinese
merchant who owned it. I told him that I should like to rent the lot
for a show and that, if he would come to terms with me, I would let
him and his family ride free of charge. Now a Chinese likes a show
better than anything else on earth, and so we were not long in
closing a bargain. I was to pay him a rental of $1 Mexican a day and
to have an option of two months on the lot. I had no paper on which
to write out the agreement, and so, since I didn't want him to change
his mind, I paid him $30 for one month, writing the receipt in my
pith helmet. He signed in my hat; then we pasted a stamp in it and
canceled the stamp by writing the date across it.
While Ali and my coolie boy were getting the merry-go-round unloaded,
I collected a gang of laborers and an engineer. All that day we
worked at uncrating the merry-go-round and putting it together. The
natives stood around, watching us and speculating as to what this
strange new thing could possibly be. The merry-go-round ran on
wheels on a track and the horses were connected with eccentrics,
which worked them up and down; a good loud organ was connected by a
belt with one of the wheels. The merry-go-round carried fifty-six
people.
I began business on the Chinese New Year's Day. The merry-go-round
was the sensation of Penang. The crowds flocked to see it, and the
natives lined up for several hundred yards, each with his dime in his
hand, waiting for his turn. We were so busy that I could not even go
to the hotel for a meal; the brassy organ of the merry-go-round
shrieked from early in the morning until late at night. In two days,
I took in $1,500 Mexican.
On the third day the merchant from whom I had rented the lot
announced that he was going to build a fence around it and charge two
cents for the privilege of standing and watching the merry-go-round.
I told him that I wouldn't allow it; that all of Penang could come
and see my show free. I was too busy taking in dimes to think about
fences. He went away angry and disappointed. Four days later a
lawyer representing him came to see me. He said that the rent had
been raised to $10 a day, and that a dispossess order would be
executed unless I paid it. I told the lawyer to wait and I went back
to the hotel, to get my pith helmet.
The merchant had forgotten about the receipt. When the lawyer saw
it, he told me that the merchant was unpopular with all the Malays
and Chinese in Penang because he cheated them, and that they would be
delighted if I sued for breach of contract. The result was that, for
$1 a day, I got the use of the lot as long as I wanted it.
Within six weeks I had made up the entire cost of the merry-go-round
and I was on velvet. The dimes were still rolling in as fast as I
could collect them. Finally, when the novelty of my show had worn
off and business began to slacken, I shipped to Rangoon, Burma, to
collect dimes there. After the merry-go-round had been running two
weeks, I was approached by a man who wished to buy me out. I had had
all the fun I wanted, and so I sold it to him for 10,000
rupees--$4,500 in gold. He was a government official and
consequently did not wish to appear in the transaction. The bill of
sale was made out in his wife's name, and a man was hired to run the
merry-go-round for him. I stayed for a week to get the enterprise
started; then I went up to the lumber mills to see if the lumbermen
needed elephants. When I returned to Singapore, I had a commission
for six large elephants.
It was a better vacation than I could have had in Europe. I had made
many friends and attended to some animal business and I had £700
clear profit in my pockets.
At my animal house I found a letter from Mr. La Soeuf, the director
of the Perth Zoölogical Gardens, saying that he was anxious to get a
rhinoceros and asking what I could do for him. I did not want to go
into the jungle again immediately, for I was afraid of a return of
the fever, but I replied that I would see what could be done and I
sent out word to all my native agents. Both Mr. La Souef and his
father, who was director of the gardens at Melbourne, were great
friends of mine, and their gardens had been my best market for
animals. Quite naturally, I wanted to do everything I could to help
them, and so, when word came from an agent in Trengganu that some
rhinoceroses had been located there, I packed up my kit and started
out.
At Trengganu, the Sultan welcomed me, and I spent several days with
him, telling him what was happening in the world and discussing his
problems. The problems were largely financial. He owed some money,
and, knowing that he had something in the treasury, I asked why he
did not pay his debts.
He thought for a time and then replied: "Well, I'll tell you. If I
pay those people, they will forget about the Sultan of Trengganu. If
I don't pay them, they'll never forget me."
The conversation turned to the subject of prisoners. On my way to
the palace I had passed the cages where the prisoners were kept.
Many of them were starving to death, for, unless their friends or
family cared for them, they got no food.
"Why don't you feed them?" I asked.
"Why should I?" he replied. "If I feed them, my whole country will
want to go to jail."
Finally, after he had satisfied his craving for sociability, he gave
me my official permit to go into the interior and to force labor. I
started out for the upper end of his state, bordering on Lower Siam.
At the mouth of the River Stu, I found my agent; we gathered a crew
of ten men and went up the river as far as we could. When the weeds
became so thick that we could not force the boats through, we took to
the jungle and began cutting our way to the mud-puddle where the
rhinoceroses came to wallow.
We took great precautions in approaching the puddle, for once a
rhinoceros gets the scent of a hunter, he is off through the jungle
as fast as he can go. The hunter, who spots his animal and shoots,
has an easy time of it; but the collector, who must capture, has a
more difficult Job. He must work and build his trap at the very spot
frequented by the animal and he must do so without exciting
suspicion. A rhinoceros seldom charges when he sees a man, and his
charge is not dangerous, for he is short-sighted and cannot gauge his
direction accurately. Most often he runs, and it is almost
impossible, even when the collector can find him again, to chase or
lure him back to the trap.
No animals were at the puddle when we arrived, and I had a good
opportunity to examine the location. Then we withdrew and I told the
men how we should go about making the capture. We made camp,
building platforms between the trees for living-quarters, and I
detailed some of the men to the work on a rattan net, which measured
twenty by fifteen feet, with meshes ten inches square. I felt that
we had a good chance of getting a rhinoceros in a net-trap and should
save ourselves much time and labor if we could do so. When the net
was ready, we put it in position at a likely-looking approach--half
on the ground, where the animal would step into it, and half
suspended, so that he would catch it with his head and bring it down
about him.
Then we turned our attention to malting pits. As I have explained
before, a heavy animal was sure to injure himself in falling into a
square pit such as the natives generally dug, and, of course, an
injured animal would have been of no use to me. Hence the four pits
that we dug around the puddle were made wedge-shaped, instead of
square. They were six feet wide, at the top and tapered to three
feet at the bottom; they were eight feet deep and ten feet long, with
the approach tapering down so there would be the least possible
chance that the beast would injure himself when he fell.
Over the tops of the pits we built platforms of bamboo poles, and
covered them with mud and leaves, taking care to leave no traces of
our work. To the building of each pit we gave a whole day of hard
labor and we were constantly on the alert for fear one of the
rhinoceroses might surprise us. Lookouts were already stationed to
catch the sounds of the beasts as they broke through the jungle,
coming to their bath.
One morning a native came running with the news that a rhinoceros was
trapped. We gathered our tools and hurried off to the puddle.
There, grunting and fighting, lay a two-ton rhinoceros, firmly wedged
in and helpless. When he saw us, he became furious, squirming in the
slime of the pit, pounding with his feet and grunting.
I divided my crew, putting half at building a cage of heavy timbers
and the others at digging away the ground in front of the beast. By
the time the cage was put together and bound securely with rattan, we
had an incline running down to the pit, with two feet of earth
walling the rhinoceros in. Then we placed skids on the incline and
let the cage slide down. A native, who had been sent back to the
nearest kampong, or native village, to recruit men and
water-buffaloes, had soon returned with a score of other natives,
driving six water-buffaloes before them. Then I went through the
usual business of holding a meeting and explaining carefully, in the
greatest detail, exactly what we were about to do and how we were to
do it; what each man was to do and when and how. When they
understood perfectly, we set about digging away the wall that
separated the rhinoceros from the open end of the cage. With a
little more than one foot of earth remaining, we began to prod him.
The immense beast pounded his feet on the bottom of the pit, grunting
and moving forward as rapidly as he could get foothold. He put his
head against the wall and rooted; the wall toppled over, and he
lurched out of the pit and into the cage. The natives slipped the
end-bar into place.
[Illustration: "We began to prod the rhinoceros.... He put his head
against the wall and rooted; the wall toppled over and he lurched out
of the pit and into the cage."]
The capture was finished--but not the work. A rhinoceros cannot be
broken and driven through the jungle like an elephant; he must be
hauled every foot of the way. With the six water-buffaloes straining
and every native giving a hand, we pulled the cage up the incline and
mounted it on the runners. It took a week of steady cutting to clear
the way, so that we could drag the cage to the Trengganu River.
There we built a heavy raft and floated the cage down to port.
Another two weeks passed before we could ship the beast to Singapore,
for transshipment to Perth.
I received for the animal £200, which was about one quarter of its
value. But it was as much as the Perth Zoölogical Gardens could
afford to pay, and I was glad to be able to put so fine a specimen
into the hands of Mr. La Souef.
One day when I was busy in my animal house, Ali came to me with the
message that three natives from Pontianak, Borneo, were outside.
They had something important to tell me, Ali said. When they came
in, I found that I knew one of them; he was an animal trader from
whom I had bought some birds and monkeys. The other two were
head-men from the interior of Borneo.
The headmen had gone to the trader with the story of two large
orang-outangs that were terrorizing their villages, and the trader
was bringing them to me for advice. We sat down in the shade and
discussed the situation. The orang-outangs had run off with a young
girl and had recently killed one of the men. The natives had tried
repeatedly to kill them, but without success, and now they were
afraid to venture into the jungle.
For several years I had had a standing order from the Antwerp
Zoölogical Gardens for a good specimen of orang-outang, and I had
planned to go, just as soon as my health permitted, into Borneo, to
see what I could find. Orang-outangs command unlimited prices
because they are so hard to capture and, once captured, so difficult
to deliver. On account of homesickness and sensitiveness to climatic
changes, they die quickly in captivity. A caged orang-outang loses
his spirit immediately; he sits brooding over his capture and often
refuses all food. On one occasion I shipped eighteen small and
medium-sized orang-outangs to San Francisco, hoping to land two or
three alive, but they all died before reaching port. If I had been
able to deliver a good specimen in the United States, I could have
sold it for $5,000.
But here were two full-grown beasts, already located, and waiting for
me to try my hand at capturing them. I was greatly interested in the
story the two headmen had to tell, and I spent the entire afternoon
in listening to them and asking them all manner of questions. They
described the country where the orang-outangs made their home, and
promised as many men as I needed.
I impressed them with the fact that I was not anxious to make the
trip, and I made them promise, as a first consideration, that they
would use all their power to prevent the natives from killing the
animals if I captured them. I feared that the resentment of the
natives against the orang-outangs might lead them to kill the animals
for revenge, even after I had them safely caged. They agreed to do
as I requested and once again begged me to return with them. I told
them to come back the next day and talk with me again. I had already
made up my mind, but it is always well to let a native think that one
has not quite decided.
When I went to see the Dutch Consul-General and explained the
situation, he issued passports for me, and, accompanied by the two
headmen, the trader, Ali and my coolie boy, I took the next steamer
to Pontianak. At Pontianak, I presented my credentials to the Dutch
Resident. He was pleased to hear that I was going after the
orang-outangs and he offered to let me have as many native officials
as I wished to take along. I thanked him and declined his offer,
explaining that I really did not know as yet just what I should need,
or how long I should be up-country. As a matter of fact, I did not
want his native officials because I knew; that the jungle people have
no love for them, and I wanted to have my expedition entirely clear
of everything that looked official.
We stayed there for several days, getting supplies together. The
trader remained with the party at my request, because he was known by
both the coast and the jungle people. From a Chinese he rented a
houseboat that I could keep as long as I had need of it. The Borneo
houseboats are twenty to twenty-five feet long and five feet wide;
they have a bamboo shed, which makes a fairly comfortable room, and
are rowed or paddled by six men. With a mattress spread on the floor
and mosquito-netting hung about, I could take the trip up the river
easily. Omar, one of the headmen, stayed with me in my boat, while
Mahommed Munshee, the other headman, went ahead with some of the
stores.
On the way up the river we came to the station of Dr. Van Erman, the
Dutch medical officer who was in charge of the outlying districts.
He insisted that I stay with him for two days at least, and I was
glad to do so, for he was the last white man I should see before we
tackled the orang-outangs. I was anxious to have the benefit of his
knowledge of the natives and the country, and also I found it
reassuring, under the circumstances, to have the friendship of a
medical man. Later, I became his enforced guest and I have always
been thankful for his care.
We arrived at Nanaoh-Pinoh, which was Mahommed Munshee's village, two
days late. I stayed at Munshee's house while the men prepared boats
for the trip up the Melarir River to the spot where the orang-outangs
were.
V
THE SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK
It seemed to me, as I waited in Mahommed Munshee's village, that it
might be a good plan to establish a reputation among the natives as a
worker of wonders. Fame as a magician is easily acquired among these
people and is of inestimable value in handling them. For the task
that lay before us, I needed all their courage and confidence, and I
had a feeling that they were accepting me with some doubt. That
would never do, for, unless I had them under perfect control when the
hunt reached its most exciting point, all our efforts might be
wasted. They showed proper awe of the express rifle that Ali
exhibited so proudly, and they took fitting note of my stores, but
still they regarded me simply as a white man who might, or might not,
be able to do the things he said he was going to do. They were
respectful and hospitable, but the more I saw of them, the more I
realized the importance of doing some spectacular thing that would
distinguish me in their minds and send tales of my magic traveling
through the wilderness of jungle. It is astounding, by the way, how
rapidly news travels in the jungle. Many times, in breaking through
virgin country, I have found that the news of my coming had preceded
me and that the natives knew all about me and were waiting for me.
The only explanation I could ever get was simply, "_Tûan_, we heard."
A good opportunity to impress the natives presented itself one day
when I was preparing to take a plunge in the river. Munshee stopped
me, saying: "Take care, sir. There are crocodiles in the river." He
told me that many natives had lost their lives recently and that men
had had their arms snapped off while they were paddling boats.
I took his advice and went to the house where my supplies were
stored. Presently I returned with a stick of dynamite and a fuse.
Gathering the natives around me, I explained to them that they were
to line the banks of the river and prepare to come out in their boats
when I gave the signal. They were entirely mystified, for they had
never heard of dynamite.
Going up-stream, I prepared the charge and then drifted down,
dropping it over. Wide-eyed and puzzled, they watched the smoking
fuse disappear into the water. Then came a muffled explosion, which
made them jump; the water trembled, shaking the boats and frightening
them; fish came to the surface. I signaled and the scramble to
gather the fish began.
Ali was standing near me, ready to put the rifle into my hands, and I
strained my eyes, looking for crocodiles. Suddenly a woman pointed
to the opposite bank and screamed, "_Buâia_ (crocodile)!"
I yelled to Munshee to take his men down-stream and keep them quiet
and on the alert; then I directed my boat above the spot where the
woman had pointed. I dropped another stick of dynamite overboard. A
few seconds later, the belly of a crocodile appeared on the surface,
its feet and tail moved feebly. It was stunned by the
explosion--_mâbok_ (drunk), as the natives say.
I took my gun and put two bullets into its belly. Before it could
sink, Ali grabbed its tail; then we made for the shore. The natives
gathered about, wildly excited, and Mahommed Munshee was the proudest
man in the village. He had vouched for my abilities and I had proved
my possession of the powers that he claimed for me. It was
_hobat-an_ (magic).
The crocodile measured fifteen feet, four inches, and was twenty-five
years old. The natives could tell its age by counting the pebbles in
its pouch.
I decided to stop at Munshee's a few days longer, to have the men
gather rattan to make the nets, and also to talk with the natives
about orang-outangs and plan all the details of the capture. Omar,
the other headman, went on up to his village, taking with him as much
of our store of provisions as he could carry. I was willing enough
to have him spread the crocodile story among the natives and I knew
that the tale would not suffer in the telling.
Omar was to determine, if possible, the exact location of the
orang-outangs and to make arrangements, such as engaging recruits for
the hunt, in advance of my arrival. I planned to have a general
council of all the men who were to take part in the work. Such a
council would have a double advantage: in the first place, it would
give me the benefit of their experience, and secondly, it would make
them feel that I depended upon them.
It took us four days to gather as much rattan as we could carry in
our boats; then, with thirty men, we started up the river. I found
at each village that Omar had done more than justice to the crocodile
story and that he had taken with him a select crew of men. As in
Trengganu, the natives felt that this was to be the great sporting
event of the year, and they were anxious to take part. Their keen
interest in the adventure made it possible for us to choose the
strongest and best of them, together with a few older men, who knew
the jungle.
Our boatmen swung on their paddles steadily, pushing the boats
against the current. Solid banks of foliage lined the sides of the
stream, and, in places, the branches touched overhead, making a thick
canopy that shaded us. In the sun, the heat was blistering.
When we arrived at Omar's kampong, the entire population was on the
banks to welcome us. Omar came forward and announced that he had
recruited seventy men--Malays and Dyaks--for the hunt and that he
would vouch for all of them. That made a crew of a hundred, counting
the thirty who came with me, and we examined one another curiously.
I was the first white man that most of them had seen.
Leaving instructions that the council was to be called for the next
morning, I went to the house that Omar had prepared for me. Ali and
the Chinese boy accompanied me with my personal equipment, and I sat
talking with Omar while I waited for my bed to be prepared, so that I
could get my afternoon nap. The men loitered outside the house
apparently waiting for something. I knew what they wanted--more
magic. At last a deputation came with the request. Would the white
man perform magic such as he had performed at the village of Mahommed
Munshee?
Crocodiles were less plentiful so far up the river, and I was rather
afraid that they might be disappointed if I did not at least equal
the former exhibition. The story, as I have remarked before, had
grown wonderfully in traveling up-country. But they were determined
to see the "drunken fish," and I decided that, before beginning work,
I should do well to give them some sort of amusement.
With the two headmen--they were delighted to show such familiarity
with this new sport--assisting me, I stationed the natives on the
banks with their boats and then I went up-stream with the dynamite.
There was breathless silence as they saw me strike a match and touch
it to the fuse. When the explosion came, they gave a shout and
darted out in their boats to gather in the fish. After the
excitement had subsided, and all the fish had been compared for size
and weight, I dropped another stick. The men enjoyed the sport
immensely, and we made a hilarious afternoon of it. The most sober
person in the village was my coolie boy, who, as he went quietly
about his business of arranging my living quarters, muttered,
"_Sĕmûa gîla_ (All crazy)."