rifle, and demonstrated what an explosive bullet could do to the
trunks of trees. The men were fascinated by that power of
destruction, and they passed their fingers reverently over the barrel
and listened to Ali's stories while he cleaned it. Ali had traveled
all over the Far East with me and he gave marvelous interpretations
of what he had seen. He could hold an audience of natives spellbound
for hours and, incidentally, he was an excellent publicity man for
me. In his whole-hearted, childish, Malay fashion, he accepted me as
the greatest man in the world and he was never contented unless
others did so too. He was in great measure responsible for the
success of my expeditions, for he removed many an obstacle--sometimes
without my knowledge--and worked constantly to keep up the enthusiasm
of the men.
I wanted the council to be a formal affair, and so I had Omar sound
the call by striking on a hollow log. The older men took their
places first, squatting in a semi-circle; then the younger men
squatted behind them. The women and children loitered on the
outskirts at a respectful distance. All of them were chewing
betel-nut.
From the house, I watched the council assemble, but I did not go out
until Omar came for me. Then, with Omar and Munshee walking beside
me, I left the house, dressed in native costume--Chinese trousers,
_sârong_ and jacket. The chattering ceased as I approached, and all
eyes were centered on me. Every one was visibly impressed by the
fact that I was wearing the clothes of a native, and that they were
of the finest quality, and entitled me to much consideration.
The importance of staging such an expedition--all the "magic," the
talk, the council and the costume--was not to be underrated. As I
have explained before, the natives are extremely impressionable; if
they like a man and believe in him, they will do anything he asks,
and if they do not believe in him, they will run wild at the moment
when he needs them most. The orang-outang hunt was the most
important and difficult thing of its kind I had ever attempted; it
required the greatest technical proficiency, because there were
numerous chances of failure through little miscalculations. Elephant
driving is, after all, largely a matter of simple strategy combined
with endurance; and capturing leopards is about on a par with setting
mouse-traps when compared with getting full-grown orang-outangs into
cages.
I squatted before the council and talked long and earnestly about the
work that lay before us. I told the villagers that I had left
important business in Singapore at the request of their headmen, to
come and help them; that I had hesitated about making the trip and
had been persuaded only by the promises of Omar and Mahommed Munshee
that every assistance would be given me. I explained that I had the
permission of the Resident-General and that he had offered me men,
but that I had refused, because I knew I could depend on the men of
this kampong--they knew everything that was to be known about the
jungle, and the whole world knew that they were brave and
cool-headed. I impressed upon them that such work was not to be
taken as play, and that it was a dangerous enterprise. The natives
nodded sagely. "You must be guided by what I say and do," I told
them, "for I have made plans. If you do as I tell you to do, we
shall be successful."
Then I called upon the men who had been sent out to locate the
orang-outangs. They had found them about two hours' distance from
the village; they described the location and told how it could be
reached. A general discussion followed. I gave each man a chance to
express his ideas. They all wanted to talk--preferably all at the
same time--and the council dragged on for hours. With the assistance
of Omar, I kept the debate orderly, and we listened to all sorts of
opinions.
For the most part, they felt that it would be necessary to kill the
animals. That, of course, was the last thing in the world that I
wanted. It would mean that the expedition was wasted effort: there
are few live orang-outangs in zoölogical gardens, but many stuffed
ones in museums. I did not agree with the idea that we should have
to kill the animals but I did not entirely disagree. We compromised
by reaching the decision that, if they must be killed, I should do
the work and no man should try to kill them without my consent. The
natives had seen what one bullet from my rifle would do to a tree,
and they were convinced that an orang-outang would stand a poor
chance.
The council broke up and work began. I had Omar set some of his men
to making strong nets of twisted rattan. He drew plans for the two
cages and had other men gather the limbs of trees for them. The
cages were just large enough to hold the animals and small enough to
keep them from getting any leverage on the bars. After the skeletons
of the cages were built, they were bound tightly with rattan ropes so
that, even if the bars were broken, the orang-outangs would be in a
network.
The strength of a full-grown orang-outang is enormous. I have seen
one bend a one-inch steel bar as though it were made of rubber. If
he can brace himself properly, with plenty of room to exert his
entire strength, he can bend almost anything; but between bending a
bar and breaking a rope by pulling, there is a great deal of
difference. A rattan rope will hold him, though a simple menagerie
cage may not give him any more trouble than a paper hoop.
The strength of the orang-outang, or "wild man," as the name means in
Malay, is largely in his arms. The arms of a mias--the breed that we
were after--measure ten feet or more from tip to tip. The mias type,
which is next in size to the gorilla, is somewhat larger than the
ordinary breed. It is distinguished by a darker color and by folds
of skin at each side of the face. Its body, from shoulders to hips,
is about the size of a man's. It has short, undeveloped legs, long
fingers and thumbs that are mere stubs.
An orang-outang never travels on the ground when he can swing from
tree to tree, since there are very few open spaces in the jungle, he
seldom reaches the ground except when he goes down to get something.
He can swing incredible distances, hurtling through the air and
catching branches with perfect accuracy.
Orang-outangs usually live in colonies numbering from forty to sixty,
and the largest and most powerful is chief. They make their homes on
platforms by breaking off limbs and putting them criss-cross. In
mating season the male and female live together, but the couples
separate after the young are born. The mother takes care of them and
the father goes off about his business.
As they do in the case of most dangerous animals, the native
collectors hunt orang-outangs by killing the mother and taking the
young. The weapon they most often use, except when they have guns,
is the blow-pipe, which, in the hands of an expert, is not to be
despised. It is a long, slender tube, measuring from six to eight
feet, made from a single joint of a rare bamboo. The tube is allowed
to dry and harden and is wrapped tightly with rattan. The darts,
which are about the size of a steel knitting-needle, are made from
the midribs of palm-leaves, and at one end there is a small conical
butt, which fits tightly into the bore of the pipe. A small nick is
made in the shaft of the dart just below the point, and the end is
coated with a deadly poison made from the sap of the upas-tree and
another species of the genus _Ipo_. When the dart strikes, the end
breaks off and remains in the wound; the poison acts rapidly, first
paralyzing, then killing the victim. In warfare, also, the natives
poison _kris_ and spear, and the wound is invariably fatal.
Fighting a full-grown orang-outang with weapons so primitive is
extremely hazardous work, and the natives avoid it except when a
beast becomes a menace to the village. An orang-outang in battle is
ferocious. If it is treed and afraid to come down, it goes into a
paroxysm of fury. It will bite its arms, tearing the flesh away and
inflicting frightful wounds. If there are two of the animals, they
bite and hug each other. An orang-outang that has been struck by an
arrow can follow the natives in the trees or on the ground while the
poison is taking effect. The only refuge from the frenzied creature
is the smoke of a fire, and, when it is sufficiently enraged, even
that will not stop it. The best chance lies in keeping it so harried
that it does not know whom to attack; once it decides on a particular
native, the native is as good as dead. When the poison begins to
work, after an animal has been wounded, the natives end the fight
with knives. The possibility of an orang-outang attack is a danger
that all the men must be prepared to face, and the duty of engaging
in an orang-outang hunt is no less important than that of making war.
It was but normal, therefore, that, as soon as I had convinced the
villagers of my trustworthiness, I should have their hearty support.
After putting the men to work on the nets and cages, I selected a
crew of twenty-five to accompany me while I went out to get the lay
of the land. I warned the men against doing anything that might
frighten the animals unnecessarily and explained that we should do no
hunting for smaller game until we had attended to the two big
orang-outangs. With the guides leading, we started into the dense
jungle, and, after several hours of slow, tortuous traveling, we came
to the tree where the animals lived. I could see, far up, the
platform they had built.
Fortunately the orang-outangs were not there, and we were able to
inspect the location at our leisure. I stationed the men at one
side, telling them to wait for us, and then Omar and Munshee and I
circled the tree. The surrounding jungle was as thick as any I have
ever seen; the trees were so close that their branches mingled and
they were woven together with creepers, vines and rattan. It was not
possible to go forward a step without cutting the way. The tree in
which the orang-outangs lived was the largest in the vicinity.
Nearly an hour passed before I decided upon the course we would
pursue. Squatting with Omar and Munshee, I explained how we would
cut away the trees, so as to leave in isolation the one in which the
animals had their platform; then, how we would cut that tree and
tumble them into the net.
We went back to the place where the men were waiting, and I put them
to work at cutting the mass of creepers that bound the trees
together. The jungle was so dense that it would have been impossible
to fell the trees without first cutting the network woven between
them; for it would have held the trees upright even though they were
cut at the base. Without tearing the creepers to the ground, we cut
back as far as sixty feet on all sides. I estimated that the trees
beyond would be well out of swinging distance for the orangs. At the
point where I planned to have the big tree drop, I had an additional
thirty feet cut. Then, when the creepers were all simply hanging, we
began work on the trees.
First-rate native jungle men use their _parangs_ with astounding
rapidity and accuracy. I doubt if there are any finer woodsmen in
the world. Their greatest fault is that they like to stop working in
order to talk. Omar, Munshee and I, knowing this weakness for
conversation, circled through the jungle constantly, urging our men
on. Partly as a result of this watchfulness, perhaps, I have never
seen natives do a piece of work more neatly and rapidly. It was
vitally important, of course, that we finish before the big fellows
came swinging back home.
The trees were cut so that they remained standing. We were trying to
achieve something like a flimsy structure built of cards or dominoes,
which one push will send toppling. At a signal, every tree in the
circle I had mapped out was to fall, those at the center, first, and
the others in order, until the one in which the orang-outangs had
their platform was isolated. It was a nice problem in jungle-craft
to cut the trees so that they would bear the weight of animals
swinging in the branches, and yet be so weak that they would all
fall--and in the proper directions--when we started them by pulling
on the ropes. I allowed myself to be guided entirely by the judgment
of the natives; they appreciated my confidence and took care to see
that the work was done accurately.
The hacking of the parangs and the conversation attracted hundreds of
jungle animals, including many of the smaller orang-outangs. We did
not molest them, and they grew bolder, until we had a large,
chattering, screaming audience watching us work.
Long before the two big brutes came back to their home, we were on
our way to Omar's kampong, with the first stage of the work
completed. The jungle as we left it did not appear greatly different
from the way it looked when we arrived. I knew that the
orang-outangs would realize that some one had been there, and yet I
was fairly certain that the absence of human beings would reassure
them. And, too, they would have several days to accustom themselves
to whatever changes they noticed.
At the kampong, I called the men together again, this time for an
informal council. I told them that I had considered carefully
everything they had said the day before, and that, after inspecting
the location, I had come to the conclusion that we could easily
capture the animals. It would be simply a matter of rapid work and
of each man's thoroughly understanding his job. Drawing a circle on
the ground and planting a stick in the middle, I explained what we
were to do and how we were to do it. Then I told them how we had cut
the creepers and prepared the trees.
During the next four days we avoided the location as much as
possible. Crews of men, bearing bundles of dry grass and bushes,
approached within five hundred feet, dropped their bundles and
returned to the village. The grass and bushes were to be used for
the fire I planned to build at the base of the tree, once the
orang-outangs were isolated there. We took care never to go near
when the big fellows were at home, and the other jungle creatures
grew less and less perturbed each time we appeared.
I remained at the kampong, supervising the making of the nets and
cages. The entire population helped us, and I put some of the people
to work at making smaller cages and rigging snares for other animals.
Finally, when the nets and cages were ready and the material for the
fire gathered and in place, I began drilling the men in their parts.
Thirty men were detailed to the work of pulling down the trees in the
circle; ten men to clearing the space where the big tree was to fall;
and ten men to handling each side of the big net. It was upon the
last-named crew that the success of the attack rested, for any
mistake or delay in manipulating the net would mean that the animals
would escape--even probably with disastrous results. Omar and
Munshee helped me select the men from the number of those who had
previously demonstrated their courage and resourcefulness in the face
of danger. I had a long pole put up near the village, and we
rehearsed the capture innumerable times: the pole would fall, and the
men would cast the net and secure it over the bunch of grass tied to
the top to represent the orang-outangs. We repeated that performance
for several days, and I always stood by with my rifle in my hands as
if I were ready to put an explosive bullet into the bundle of grass,
if it tried to escape.
When they had played the part so many times that there seemed to be
no chance of a blunder, we had a full rehearsal. As the pole fell,
this time, the other men closed in, beating with the clubs, pounding
tom-toms and yelling. I wanted them to make just as much noise as
possible when the orangs came down; for noise paralyzes animals with
fright and makes them easier to handle.
On the eighth night at Omar's village, I called all the men together
and announced that we would start next morning before daybreak. Once
again I made them promise that they would not kill the beasts without
my permission, and I, in turn, promised them that I would shoot if
there was the least danger. Long before daybreak the village was
astir. All those who were to take no part in the hunt were ordered
to stay behind, and they stood silently watching us while the men
shouldered the nets and ropes and filed into the jungle blackness.
By the time it was light, each man was at his post, waiting for me to
fire my pistol as a signal. We could see the two orang-outangs
sleeping on their platform.
The men who were to give the trees the final cut and send them
toppling over stole forward silently. Ali was beside me, carrying my
rifle; Omar and Munshee were stationed near, one at each side. I
waited, scarcely daring to breathe, for them to signal that their men
were ready. Ali was intently watching the orangs, to warn me if they
stirred.
Omar moved first; then Munshee. I gave a quick glance around and
fired my pistol. Instantly the tumult started; the men yelled and
beat upon tomtoms and trees. The orang-outangs leaped up bewildered
and scrambled about their platform. Through the noise I could hear
the men at work with their parangs; then came the crashing of trees.
The jungle seemed to fold up, and the big tree stood alone. The
orangs screamed and hugged each other. Men rushed forward with the
bundles of dry grass and started the fire; others came with wet
leaves to make a smudge. One of the orangs started, as if to come
down, and I reached for my rifle; but when the smoke struck him, he
went back to the platform, screaming and tearing the tree. Then, as
the smoke, became more dense, the two animals climbed higher and sat
on the topmost limb, arms and legs wrapped around each other,
completely terrified.
The natives danced and yelled. Through the clouds of smoke that
drifted over us, I could see their black bodies flashing, arms
waving, and lips, stained crimson with betel-nut, wide open. The din
was terrific. For several minutes I just stood there, unable to move.
The orang-outangs, high up in the tree, were huddled together,
swaying back and forth. Omar came with the message that the space
was cleared for the tree to fall; I ordered the net carried to
position and sent the two headmen to place the natives at their posts.
Dense clouds of smoke rolled up from the smudges, enveloping the tree
completely and hiding the orang-outangs, who perched aloft, screaming
and coughing. I could get occasional glimpses of them, as they sat
there, hugging each other.
The big rattan nets were in place, with the men holding them ready to
cast when the tree came down. Other men, armed with sharp-pointed
poles, stood behind, to pin the beasts down if the nets did not fall
in the proper position. They were so excited that I spent several
minutes in casually walking about, talking with them and calming
them. Ali trudged a few feet behind me, carrying my express rifle.
We cleared away the litter of tree trunks and creepers from the spot
where the big tree was to fall, so that there might be nothing
underfoot to interfere with rapid work; then I gave the signal for
the tom-toms. The racket began again and the crew of men detailed to
cutting the tree ran through the smoke barrier, waving their parangs
and shouting. I stood outside, near the net, watching the orangs and
keeping the men at their stations. Omar was with me, and Munshee was
with the men who were doing the cutting. We could hear the big
knives hacking into the tree.
A messenger from Munshee came with the word that the tree was ready
to drop. I gave a hasty glance around me, told the men to be on the
alert and sent him back with instructions to let the tree fall. Once
again through the din of tom-toms and shouts we could hear chopping;
the tree swayed for a moment, the orang-outangs screamed with terror
and the men with the nets crouched, ready to spring. Slowly the tree
toppled and came down, gathering speed as it fell, exactly in the
spot we had marked. When it struck, the entire jungle seemed to be
in upheaval.
The orang-outangs abruptly stopped their outcry. As they hit the
ground, they were paralyzed with fright. A net went sailing over
them. In an instant they came to their senses and began fighting.
With long, black, powerful arms they lashed at the rattan; they
leaped and struggled, biting the ropes and tearing great gashes in
their bodies. They screamed and chattered furiously. One of them
reached out and grabbed a native by the throat, whipping him through
the air and breaking his neck. The native struck the ground several
yards away, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
I yelled to the men to cast the second net and secure it to the
trees. The orangs kept up a constant battle, lashing and heaving
under the ropes that pressed them to the ground. Their arms and legs
became entangled in the meshes of the nets, and they wasted their
strength in wrenching and squirming, while we fastened them down.
The natives, crazy with excitement, pressed in, tumbling over one
another.
Our material had been put to the greatest test and would hold the
animals, I knew, for they could not again equal the struggle of the
first few minutes. So, because I wanted them to have room to become
thoroughly tangled in the nets, I ordered the ropes slackened a
trifle.
Just then, while I was standing near the nets, superintending the
work of making them fast, a huge paw shot out and grabbed my ankle.
I was jerked off the ground and, as I fell, my hands caught the limb
of a tree. I clung to it with all my strength, feeling my fingers
weaken and slip while the brute pulled. The joints at my hip and
knee pained me for an instant; then my leg became numb. The men
stood terrified and I could not yell at them! I felt myself growing
dizzy and I simply wondered why some one did not do something. Then
Omar grabbed a club and pounded the orang's arm; the pulling stopped,
and I realized that I was being dragged away from the nets. For
several minutes I was too groggy to know what was happening, but the
idea that the natives might kill the orang-outangs while I was
disabled made me sit up. They were standing there, looking first at
me and then at the animals, wondering what to do. I told them I was
all right and I began feeling my leg. It was not broken, but it had
been so badly wrenched that I could not stand on it.
[Illustration: "A huge paw shot out and grabbed my ankle. I was
jerked off the ground, and, as I fell, my hands caught the limb of a
tree.... The brute pulled. I felt myself growing dizzy.... Then
Omar grabbed a club and pounded the Orang's arm."]
While I sat on the ground directing the work, the men gathered the
outside meshes of the nets and ran a rope through them. Then, as the
other ropes were loosened, they pulled the noose close, and the two
brutes were in a sack. For the first time, I had an opportunity to
examine our catch; they were the two biggest orang-outangs ever
captured in Borneo.
Gradually they exhausted themselves and gave up the struggle. They
peered out through the meshes, snarling at the men who came near them
and sometimes shooting out a long arm with the fingers opening and
closing. The natives squatted about in a circle, watching the
animals and laughing.
When the men had rested, I had them build two litters of boughs--one
for the dead man and the other for me. Then we strung the net on
three long poles, to be carried by twelve men, and started back to
the village. Messengers went on ahead to tell the people of the
_kampong_ of our success. I headed the procession; then came the
orang-outangs with natives dancing around them and beating tomtoms;
then the dead man. It was necessary to stop often to change the
crews that were carrying the litters and animals--they weighed over
five hundred pounds--and the entire population of Omar's kampong came
out to meet us in the jungle before we had covered half the distance.
My coolie boy, who had remained at the village, was ahead of them
all. He was one of the fastest rickshaw men I have ever seen, and
his old training came in handy that day. He wanted to carry me in
his arms back to the village, but I told him to run back and put some
water on to boil for me.
I left Omar and Munshee in charge of the orangs and had my men hurry
ahead with me, for my leg was paining me intensely and I could feel
the fever coming on. I had many things to do before I could afford
to be sick, and I did not want to lose any time. For one thing, I
realized that it would be impossible to get the animals into separate
cages and that it would be necessary to build a larger cage before we
could take them from the nets. It would be too dangerous to leave
them in the nets overnight, for they might chew their way out.