CHAPTER II

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MY LIMBANG JOURNAL.

Start--Discovery of Bones and ancient Ornaments--At the Site of the Old City--At the Stone Fort--At Sarawak--The Trusan, or connecting Passage--Apathy of the Government and People--Sago--Method of preparing it for the Market--The Limbang River--The Inhabitants--Winding Stream--The Orang Kaya Upit of Kruei--Sampirs--Gadong Hill--Scenery--Molu--The Raman Palm--Delays--Cholera--Orang Kaya Napur--Panglima Prang--The Weather--State of the River--Origin of the Ponds--Native Geographical Information--The Upper Country--Cataract--Enchanted Mountain--Native Travelling--Dreams and Omen Birds--Religion of Pakatans--Cause of Head-hunting--The Wild Boar--Trouble in procuring Guides--Pengkalan Tarap--Desolation of the Country--Causes of it--Selling Children--Kayan Barbarity--Chinese at Batang Parak--Site of Burnt Villages--Posts of Houses--Two kinds of Sago Palm--Their Growth--Kayan Encampment--Cultivation--The River--Rocks--Salt Springs--Native Explanation--Anecdote--Time to halt--Birds--Rare, except in certain Districts--Monkeys--Alligators--The Man-eater--A Challenge accepted--Disappearance of the Siol Alligator--Combat with two in a Cave--Method of Capturing them in Siam--Laying Eggs in the Jungle--Ducks and Drakes--Malay Cookery--Very tasty--Bachang--How to make a Curry--Anecdotes of Bornean Rule--Attack on the Limpasong Village--Insurrection of the Aborigines--Forced Trade--Qualities necessary in a Malay Ruler--The great Mountain of Tilong--Discomfort of possessing a large Diamond--Diamonds found in Borneo.

_August 25th, 1858._--We started, and as we pulled through the town in the early morn crowds came to their doors to have a look at what they no doubt considered as a doomed party.

Our route, after leaving the houses, was up the Brunei river, till we reached a Trusan, or passage,[1] connecting it with the Limbang. We soon left the pretty scenery near the capital, and exchanged for it low banks, with mangrove swamp, occasionally varied by undulating dry land. After a two hours’ pull, we passed the graves of some rajahs on the left-hand bank; near them, it is reported, a great many bones are found scattered about; the natives say it was the site of a battle-field; gold ornaments are also occasionally discovered, but slightly covered with soil; it is very probable that a village once stood here.

These discoveries of ancient ornaments are events of not unfrequent occurrence. Some seven years ago a man was prawn-fishing with a casting-net, about two miles below the consulate, when he found some gold buttons entangled among the prawns; he instantly marked the place, and dived, and found several articles; the news spread like wildfire, and hundreds flocked to the spot; the mud was dug over in the neighbourhood to the depth of several feet, and the river raked with great care; it is reported that a large amount was found. I afterwards examined the spot; it proved to be the site of the ancient city of Burnei, of which Pigafetta speaks; it is now called Kota Batu, or the stone fort, on account of the foundations of some buildings that have been uncovered there. I must confess to great disappointment when I visited them; these ancient remains consisted of nothing but loose stones thrown into a long ditch about eighteen feet wide.

Great quantities of gold ornaments have likewise been discovered at the Santubong entrance of the Sarawak river; this was likewise the site of an old town. I tried on my last visit to find some to examine the workmanship, but most had been melted up, and the specimens purchased by Sir James Brooke were lost during the Chinese insurrection of 1857.

Half an hour afterwards we reached the Trusan, and entered it on our way to the Limbang; it took us two hours and a half to get through; the banks are low, at first mangrove, then slight openings showing small padi fields, then sago with lofty fruit-trees in the background. Nothing better exemplifies the character of this people and government than the Trusan we were passing through; in a straight line the distance cannot be three miles, yet nothing is done even to clear it of the obstruction of fallen trees, overhanging branches, and sharp turnings; occasionally it is not above six feet wide; hundreds pass through it every day; and though they have often to wait hours till the tide has risen sufficiently to float them over the obstructions, they will not combine to clear it: fifty men in a week could render it passable for large boats at half-tide, but there is no government for useful purposes, and no combination among the people.

We were very glad to get clear of this Trusan, and enter into an open space, a sort of long narrow lake connected with the main river by diminutive passages, enclosing the island of Pandam, a dense mass of sagotrees. Here there is some sign of life, many houses are scattered on the banks whose inhabitants are busy preparing the pith of the palm for transmission to the capital. We saw them to-day going through every stage, some were felling the tree, others clearing it of all its leaves and branches and dragging it to the water’s edge; rafts of prepared palms were floating down alone, but with certain marks to distinguish the owners. We landed at one spot and inquired the reason of this unusual bustle; the price had risen, and every one was anxious to take advantage of the market.

We had around us about a dozen men working; the trees, some of them fifty feet in length by two and a half in diameter, were first cut in sections of about a fathom, then split in two; the pith was scooped out, or rather chopped out with a scoop, as it was very hard and required great exertion to get it out; the women and children carried it to the river’s banks to a prepared framework, and threw the rough sago on a platform of split bamboos: here a man stood who, after wetting the stuff with pails’ full of water, trod out the flour into a receptacle below. It seemed a very wasteful process. The coarse sago is put into leaf cases and sold to the Chinese, who turn it into the flour and pearl of commerce.

Leaving the island of Pandam we joined the main stream, which was here about a hundred yards wide; the banks as we advanced presented the same features, low, with occasional hills to be seen, cultivation very rough and careless; the sago and rice the most valuable; the gardens were but poorly looked after, the chief attention being given to the banana. Occasionally there are very extensive groves of fruit-trees, but even these are choked with brushwood. Tame buffaloes are very numerous on the lower part of this river; we also saw a few cows, but until lately little attention was given to breeding them; now, however, that a steady demand has arisen in Labuan, many of the natives have been induced to collect herds.

After passing the Trusan no more Malay houses are to be seen; the inhabitants being the aborigines, the Bisayas, Muruts, and a few Kadayans; their villages occupy nearly every reach. A glance at the map will show what a winding course this river takes; the soil being alluvial offers no obstruction to its changing its direction, and there are many signs of its having altered its bed.

We pulled on to the village of Kruei (Argus pheasant), the residence of Orang Kaya Upit, a son of one of the Adang people, who had promised to accompany us. I had with me a chop or firman from the Sultan, in order to render my procuring guides a work of less difficulty, but, though not refusing, the Orang Kaya was unwilling to start immediately. It would have been very unreasonable of me to have expected a man to be ready at a day’s notice, but this Orang Kaya had settled for some months to accompany me. I agreed to stay a day, as I wished to procure a couple of light boats; in the evening a messenger arrived from the Sultan with orders for every assistance to be given me.[2]

_26th._--As this was a day of enforced delay I determined to divide my men; some, under Musa, I sent away to purchase or borrow boats, called here sampirs; they are long and narrow, being simply a canoe, with a plank on either side tied on with rattans and then roughly caulked; they have a front and stem piece fastened in the same way; they are not strong, but are light and very suited to up-country work, varying in length from thirty to sixty feet, and in breadth from one and a half to three feet: as might be expected, they are any thing but stiff.

While Musa was away on this duty, I pulled back to the Gadong hills to take bearings. I was disappointed in not being able to distinguish Molu, but I had some good views of other mountain ranges. The appearance of the country from this elevation (682 feet) was very pretty; to the east of us were alternate diminutive plains and low hills, with rice fields whose bright green contrasted well with the sombre brushwood; farmhouses were scattered here and there; to the west it was but a confused mass of hills and valleys. The course of the river is clearly visible, with its extraordinary windings and its patches of cultivation scattered along its banks; even here in the neighbourhood of the capital two-thirds of the land is still jungle or brushwood.

Towards evening Musa returned, and I was glad to find that he had arranged to buy a sampir and borrow two more, and to leave our canoe behind.

_27th._--This morning the peak of Molu was visible, and I immediately went ashore to get a good bearing, as the boat rocked too much to allow me to do it aboard. I find it 9° E. of S. The Adang Muruts give the name of Batu Barit to the mountain, or to one peak of it; Barit is the same as the Malay “berlukis,” ornamented; they say they call it by that name on account of some tracings observed on the rocks, probably fanciful, or from the stone being discoloured in various parts of the precipices. They talk also of a very large palm, the Riman, that grows in great plenty at the foot of the mountain; this yields in abundance a very superior kind of sago, but; _baniak_, “much,” has a very different signification in their mouths, it may mean a few trees scattered about, or a forest of palms.

Yesterday the Orang Kaya Upit went in search of the Merasam people, who had agreed to accompany the expedition; they are full of delays, but talk of following to-morrow: I shall push on to look for other guides in case these fail us; every day’s delay lessens our stock of food; I have tried to procure some rice in these villages, but nothing is to be had. In fact, they will seldom sell me any food, as the Borneans would make that an excuse to squeeze more out of them after my departure. The Orang Kaya has begged for one of my sampirs, and as it is on my business he is going, the request is but reasonable, so I have given him one, and also some cloth to procure provisions.

We pushed on at 9 A.M., and as we advanced we found all the villages deserted on account of the cholera; the visitation was nearly over, but the Muruts were too alarmed to return to their houses; as no one was to be found at Bidang, the residence of the Orang Kaya Napur, an Adang man, we continued our course to Danau, where it was said we should find him; but on arriving, we heard that he was some distance inland; I therefore sent old Japer to look for him.

5 P.M.--Here is the Orang Kaya Napur, but there is evidently no getting him to accompany us; he has many reasons for not going, some of them good ones; among others, he is planting his rice farm. I explained I only wanted a guide, not a train of followers. Towards evening my old friend Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, of the village of Blimbing, came to see me; he followed me to Molu in both of my former expeditions, and is half inclined to come now, but as he does not know the country beyond six days’ pull, he would not be very useful. He has deserted Blimbing, having too few followers to hold his own even against a small Kayan expedition, and so now he lives here until the Pañgeran Tumanggong can afford him some support, not very likely to be given at present. The cholera has attacked all the villages, but does not seem to have carried off many; the fright was great, and still continues, so that most of the people are yet living in the woods. All those who do not expect to be connected with my expedition, say that this is the proper season, and that the rain is exceptional, while the others whom I want to accompany me, assure me that by waiting two months I shall have fine weather. It certainly looks rainy, but we must do our best even if freshes do come down, and we may yet reach Adang by perseverance. This place is called Danau, on account of a diminutive lake, or large pond, that lies at the back of the village; the entrance, now dry, is at the end of the reach ahead.

_28th._--Last night a heavy squall, which appeared to spring from the south-east, but soon veered round to the south-west, made me fear a fresh in the morning, but (7 a.m.) as yet it has not come down upon us. There is much matter held in suspension by the water, as every glass of it we take from the river proves; this, however, appears its normal state, as I have seen it the same at different seasons, as in October, November, December, May, and now, August; not exactly the same, as the water after heavy freshlets is muddy. The banks appear to be generally formed of alluvial deposits; occasionally only have I observed hard banks of clay, and nowhere are there rocks, except where a hill abuts on the river. At the entrance of the Limbang there are many alluvial deposits, and two low islands called Pulau Bharu, or the new islands, are said by the natives to have been formed within the memory of their old men; they are but little raised above high-water mark, and are excellent rice grounds.

A glance at the map will show the serpentine course of the Limbang, and how the river is eating into its banks; in several places they are nearly worn through. I imagine (and examination almost confirms it) that the origin of the numerous ponds to be found a short distance from the banks arises from the alteration of the river’s bed. There is in the Sarawak river a short cut between two reaches, which appears within a few years likely to become the main stream--nature assisted by man: sandbanks are already forming, which yearly tend to increase the force of the current through the short passage, and will doubtless ultimately close up the old channel, leaving a lake of a couple of miles in length on the right bank.

I may here notice, in order to test the value of native geographical information, the various accounts I have received of the journey before us. Casting aside the stories of its being one, two, or three months’ distance, I will simply enter what I have reduced to something like reason. They say from Blimbing to Madalam is two days’ pull; to Salindong, two; to Madihit, two; to Busoi or Saledan, three; to Adang, seven, or sixteen days from the last inhabited village (since abandoned) to the Adang landing-place: from that to the houses, from one to six days.

I do not understand the great discrepancy in the land journey, except that the Adangs have removed farther inland. It is certainly a voyage of discovery, but my only anxiety is with respect to the provisions. From the amount of water that was in the river above Madalam, I cannot think it so far. Busoi appears to mean a cataract, and there, they say, the river falls over rocks, and the boats have to be dragged along the shore for a distance which varies with the stories from fifty yards to a mile. Enormous overhanging rocks occur at the cataract, almost shutting in the river, but above it the water is smooth, and the pulling easy for seven days; this is not very likely. The river is said to abound in fine fish. The story of the wild goats is beginning to fade away, and is replaced by tame ones in the possession of the Muruts. One of the greatest curiosities, the natives say, is the formation of two mountains, which rise from the plain in lofty peaks of the shape of needles; they have never been to them, but have seen them from a distance; they are the pillars of the gate of some enchanted palace, and I heard it whispered to one of my men that all were not privileged to see even these pillars; it requires some incantation; so that there is a chance of the needle mountains vanishing into thin air.

I may remark that when the natives speak of the journey sometimes occupying two or three months, they mean for a Murut party. The reason is that they start with, perhaps, two days’ provisions, and trust to hunting for their food. If they find a spot where game is plentiful, they stay there till it is exhausted; if the jungle produce no sport, they live on the cabbages taken from the palms, on the edible fern, on snakes, or anything, in fact, that they can find. If they come across bees’ nests, they stop to secure the wax and honey. Time is of no value to them, as they generally start after the harvest, and many parties are said to have taken six months.

It is curious to hear the Islam-converted old Pakatan Japer talk. He says dreams were sent by God to be a teaching and a warning to us; when he is going up a river on an expedition, if he dream of his wife or of his children, or of ascending a river, it is good; if of descending a river, or of fire, or of anything disagreeable, he is sure to meet an enemy or some misfortune. If his añgei, or omen bird, cry to the right, it is good luck; his cried to the right when he left Kanowit eight years ago, and he has not had a misfortune since. I asked him how it came to pass then that his house was plundered and burnt down by the Kayans last year; he was silenced for a moment, and having waited till the men had had their laugh, he said his people considered it a punishment for living among the bad Tabuns;[3] however, the Pakatans have avenged him by burning down a Kayan village.

It is two p.m., and no sign of Orang Kaya Upit yet; this delay is very provoking, as we can get no provisions here. Last night, at six, I sent a party with Orang Kaya Napur down the river to find Kadayan, an Adang man, and try and induce him to follow us; he promises to come in the morning. We had a long talk last night about various matters. Old Japer was telling us of the belief of the wild tribes. Having been converted, however, he laughs at the follies of his countrymen, and therefore spoils his narration. His conversion, however, is but skin deep. He says they believe in antus, or spirits, one of whom is far greater than the rest; he it was who “made the woods, the mountains, and the streams, and is above all and over all.” The Pakatans call him Guha, the Kayans, Totaduñgan.

He denies that head-hunting is a religious ceremony among them; it is merely to show their bravery and manliness, that it may be said so and so has obtained heads; when they quarrel, it is a constant phrase, “How many heads did your father or grandfather get?” If less than his own number, “Well, then, you have no occasion to be proud!” That the possession of heads gives them great consideration as warriors and men of wealth; the skulls being prized as the most valuable of goods. “Alas! when I was a Kapir (infidel) I took more than forty heads,” hypocritical sorrow, but real pride, in his tone. He adds that hunting is the greatest pleasure of the wild tribes, and that the wild boar is exceedingly fierce, and makes a good fight; it requires much skill to conquer him. “It is a delight for me to look back on my hunting days.” The China trader that lives at the Pangkalan Tarap came and promised his assistance in getting sago, which we must use as a substitute for rice.

_29th._--A little rain last night, and a dirty-looking morning. No Orang Kaya Upit. We are now opposite the Chinaman’s house. I shall push on to-morrow morning, guide or no guide, and trust to their following us.

2 p.m.--Kadayan and a companion have come, and promise to be guides, but as they have to return to their houses, I have no confidence that they will follow, but only cause us fresh delays; however, as I have obtained a pikul[4] of raw sago, and seven gantangs[5] of beans, I can better afford to wait. They put every difficulty in the way, and lie like troopers as to the distance, declaring it to be a journey of six months for us who take food; they say, also, that they are in debt at Adang, and in debt here. I have given each a piece of blachu,[6] to buy food for their families; and I have sent a crew away to try and borrow a couple of sampirs.

_30th._--This morning the lazy Orang Kaya Upit joined us with three men; their omen bird, they said, had uttered a warning cry, and they had been unable to join me before, an excuse to which I am now somewhat used.

I am going to try and perform the journey in my own garei, as I can find no more sampirs at these villages to buy or borrow, and with a little extra trouble she will do, and be twice as comfortable for me. Were we to be utterly stopt, the men say we can make some bark canoes for those that cannot get into the sampirs.

Pangkalan Tarap is becoming an important village, as by orders of the Pañgeran Tumanggong the people are collecting there to show a better fight to the Kayans, and now number “two hundred men who can hold a shield.” The detached house system, so progressive with security, does not answer in a country exposed to periodical incursions. It is lamentable to see this fine district, once well cultivated, now returning to brushwood; formerly, when the population extended a hundred miles beyond the last village at present inhabited, the supply of provisions was ample for Brunei; now that the Muruts are decreasing, while Brunei is perhaps as numerous as ever, the demands made are too great even for native forbearance, and in disgust they are gradually abandoning all garden cultivation; already brushwood is taking the place of bananas and yams; few of either can now be had. The people say it is useless for them to plant for others to eat the whole produce.

The aborigines must gradually disappear from this river if the same process continues, as with food becoming daily scarcer, the area of cultivation continually lessened, as they fear to move far from their houses except in large armed parties, on account of the head-hunting Kayans, their powers of natural increase must be stopped; add to this their losses from cholera, small-pox, and the enemy, and we have sufficient data to speculate on their eventual extermination from the Limbang. They are gradually retreating down the river; twenty miles of bank have been abandoned during the last two years.

Nor must it be omitted, that as the nobles are yearly less enabled to obtain supplies from them, they are selling their children by dozens into slavery, which enables Brunei to keep up its population. Directly they arrive there, they are circumcised, and from that moment care no more for their tribes, whom they despise as infidels, and they then may be said to have joined the ranks of the oppressors. No lad could well refuse to turn Mahomedan; he would be teased to death by his companions, and if he long retained any affection for his family, he would be ashamed to show it. Generally they are taken away young, and the girls added to the numerous concubines of the rajahs: after a year or two they get tired of them, and give them in marriage to their followers.

At the back of this village is a large pond, and beyond there is another of far greater extent, which they consider a great protection against surprise. I am nursing my feet, much knocked about in ascending Kina Balu, so do not land to examine. Obtained two pikuls more of sago.

We are pulling up quietly; passed Pangkalan Jawa. The Limbuak peak bears about W. by S. At the back of the houses, at the foot of the Ladan range, Orang Kaya Kiei and his family were cut off in a farmhouse by the Kayans last February. The Kayans set fire to the rice stalks under the house, and as the family rushed out they were killed; a few, who either saw the fall of their companions, or were bewildered by the smoke, stayed in the house and were burnt to death; ten women and children lost their lives. The mode of death is conjectured from finding seven headless trunks at the doorway, and four bodies charred, without losing their heads. The summit of the Ladan range presents many instances of extensive landslips. Stayed for bearings at Tampasong. I find but few changes will be necessary in my previous map, in fact, except in the position of the ranges, which I am carefully taking, it will not be essentially improved as far as refers to the direction of the reaches; but as to their length, I think many we have passed to-day will require shortening. We were here joined by Kadayan and Si Nuri, two Adang men.

5 p.m.--I am delighted to find myself at Batang Parak, long past the last houses, and above sixty miles from Brunei. Batang Parak was formerly inhabited by Chinese, who cultivated pepper; the Malays say that they gradually died out, no fresh immigrants coming to recruit their strength, and some of the older Muruts remembered them well, and could repeat their names. Casual observations, however, prove that the above was not the way in which the Chinese always disappeared, as on passing the Madalam, a Bisaya chief pointed to a hill; formerly, he said, the Chinese built a fort there, but they were attacked and all killed.

But to return. I can now settle matters myself, and have nobody to wait for. At about four, the rain and wind came in great force from the S.W., which is a little unpleasant, but I hope it will not affect the river above the Madalam. Slight rain continues. The men are on shore, searching for vegetables, pumpkins, cucumbers, and fruit at the site of the Tabun village, burnt down last year by the Kayans. The plants grew up in great strength round the ruins, and afford supplies to every visitor. This is the fourth time we have helped ourselves, but to-day the pig-hunters having been before us, there are but few left. The fruit-trees are covered with a young crop, but none are ripe; everything, however, is eagerly appropriated by my men, who have brought but little to eat with their rice. I leave off my journal to turn to a miserable dinner of dried fish and stale bread, there being no time to cook, but a bottle of porter made it palatable.

I noticed when passing the deserted village of Blimbing, which was formerly the residence of my old friend, the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, that even the old posts of the houses were removed; the reason is this, that being made of iron wood they will last for a century. In fact, in many of the villages they have them, descended, it is said, from a long line of ancestors, and these they remove with them wherever they may establish themselves. Time and wear have reduced many of them to less than five inches in diameter, the very heart of the tree, now black with age and exposure.

When I first ascended the Limbang, and spent a few days at the village of Blimbing, I found a large party of armed men assembled who were preparing to collect sago palms, which grow in immense forests at the foot of the Ladan range. They fell the palms there, and clearing them of leaves, drag them to the banks of the small streams, and float them to the village. They always say there are two species of sago palms, one covered with thorns, the other free; the former is more safe from the attacks of wild pigs, the latter perhaps more productive. Nature has indeed stocked these countries with easily acquired food, as this palm, for instance, though improved by cultivation, will yet reproduce itself in extraordinary abundance.

After the first three or four years, the freshly planted palm is surrounded by smaller ones springing from its roots, so that when the time has arrived to secure its sago, which is after about eight years, there is a crop of young ones approaching maturity; in fact, in a well managed and old established plantation, a tree can yearly be cut from the same clump. The natives know directly when the palm is ripe by the appearance of the flower, but if it be allowed to fruit, the whole pith is spoilt for the purposes of commerce. At present the trees in these districts are seldom permitted to pass their fifth year, as the aborigines fear to penetrate far into the forests, and trust to those which grow near the banks of the river.

_31st._--Got away this morning at 6.20, and arrived at the end of the west reach, beyond Suñgei Damit at 9.25. Just above Suñgei Damit is the site of the great Kayan encampment. A force of above three thousand of these wild warriors, in March and April, 1857, kept the capital in a state of great alarm: and near here also, on the left bank, is a famous fish-pond, Luagan Kura, and on its banks are some grassy slopes, where the Tambadaus, or wild cattle, love to congregate. I may mention that Mr. De Crespigny reached this spot in 1857.

There is little to notice, except that the banks are generally flat, fringed with a low jungle, at the back of which the Muruts formerly farmed. A stranger passing up the river would be apt to infer that no population had tenanted this district for a century, as there are no signs of cultivation, but the natives generally prefer farming in spots not exposed to floods or intrusion. I have been out deer-snaring in this neighbourhood, which made me notice that at the back of the belt of jungle which lines the river banks there are signs of a former extensive rice-planting.

Sagan on the right bank is a fine hill, perhaps 1,500 feet in height; between it and Suñgei Damit is the low range of Rudi, running along the edge of one of the reaches, and terminating a little below the Damit. This tributary is now very low, there having been but little rain to the S. E., so that I hope the discoloured water of the Limbang comes from the Madalam branch. The water, however, is much higher than it was when we ascended the river last February, as the Batang rapids are concealed; these rapids are caused by a collection of logs, mixed with sand and mud, and extend for several hundred yards.

I noticed the rocks occasionally cropping out of the banks. At the mouth of the Damit I took the dip and strike: dip N. E. by N., angle 31·5; strike S. E. by E. There is a high peak to the southward (S. by E.) which is apparently the end of the Molu range; it bends, the natives say, towards the Limbang: if not, it is a separate range, but the same that I see from the back of the Consulate at Brunei. I think that the thousands of pigs which inhabit this jungle contribute to the discoloration of the water: every night they descend to the banks and rout up the soft mud into heaps, which are easily washed away by rain or the rise of the river.

The fish we have caught are all small, though there are fine ones in the centre of the stream where the net cannot be used: we see them occasionally rise to the surface, causing a great commotion.

Japer tells me that the people of Adang occasionally obtain their salt from traders of the east coast, but their usual supply is derived from salt springs, and this is confirmed by Orang Kaya Upit. Japer adds that, when head-hunting round the great mountain of Tilong, in the centre of Borneo, he saw a salt spring that burst from the ground in a volume of about fifteen inches in diameter, rising three feet, and then spreading in a shower around: this is the source, he says, of the Bangermasin, and the reason of its being so called (_masin_, briny). He thinks there must be a passage all the way from the sea to cause this salt spring, and no reasoning will convince him to the contrary: his companions confirm _his_ belief by _their_ implicit belief. There is also a large lake at the foot of Tilong; he saw it, but did not go near it, as it might be the residence of spirits.

At 11.20 we again got under way, and soon reached Naga Surei, the first stone rapid: to the Orang Kaya Upit this place had a fearful interest; some years since about a hundred of his countrymen came down the river to trade in wax, and on their return stopped at this pebbly bank to cook, and while a party went inland to hunt, others collected wood. Suddenly three or four hundred Kayans came sweeping round the point, and were on them before they could recover from their surprise; seventy lost their lives, but thirty escaped.

We stopped for the night at 1.45, as the men pulled too late yesterday, and we must prepare for the rapids and freshes that may be expected: so I have sent them in inland to collect poles, and rattans for making ropes to secure us at night during freshes. It is a good plan whilst travelling in Borneo to make it a general rule to stop by 2 p.m., as one is never sure of not having showery weather after that, and unless the men have proper time to erect the tents and prepare the evening meal whilst fine, they don’t work willingly. (This journey will show what exceptions are required to general rules.) The sky is covered with broken clouds, with occasional patches of blue. I am afraid we shall have more rain, and the river is high enough already, though that is better than being very low until we get into the interior, where the rush of waters after heavy rain is terrific.

I think a traveller in Borneo will notice how few spots there are where birds are to be observed; whilst writing this line a little bird has perched itself before me, and by its song would induce me to alter what I have written, but notwithstanding this appeal, I reiterate that birds are but seldom seen. At certain hours and places a few pigeons or doves, more rarely crows; along the banks an occasional wagtail or kingfisher, and a songster in the trees above sometimes attracts your attention. A solitary teal now and then rises from the least frequented rivers, and the kite sails slowly above us.

Hornbills are seen round mountains, and sparrows abound in grassy plains near the sea; some species are now and then abundant, as a white crane (padi bird, or Kanawei), and various kinds of curlew (pimpin), but on the whole, birds are rare. In some districts pheasants and partridges are caught in snares, but as they are birds which merely run along the surface of the ground, flying being almost out of the question in the thick underwood, they are only noticed when brought in by the natives. Monkeys in the northern part of Borneo are also rarely observed. In the Limbang river I have seen but few: an occasional baboon, a few wawahs in the Madalam branch, and a large reddish monkey at about 1,000 feet up Molu. At Kina Balu I do not remember any. In Sarawak, however, they are plentiful.

Pigs are very numerous here, and wild cattle and deer are also abundant. We have as yet seen no traces of alligators, though in the Madalam branch they are said to abound, and last spring I saw a very large one; it was a disgusting-looking object, a great fat slimy-looking thing,--a tail stuck on a hogshead. They are not, however, dreaded, as they can obtain a very plentiful supply of food from the pigs which constantly swim from bank to bank. Otherwise, it would be unpleasant to have to steer a boat, as the man-devouring reptile strikes his victim from the stern with a blow of his tail. This happened to an unfortunate Malay in the Siol branch of the Sarawak, who was pulling up that river with his wife in a small canoe.

The death of this man drew attention to the monster alligator I have previously referred to, and Mr. Crookshank and Sadam, a very courageous Malay, went down to place a bait on the banks of the Siol. When this was done, they pulled back, Mr. Crookshank steering. They had seen nothing of their enemy, so that Sadam jumped up, and, flourishing his spear, began in a loud voice to defy the alligator, using very insulting terms. Suddenly he dropt his weapon and seizing his paddle, began pulling away with might and main, for the animal had just risen to the surface of the water not twenty yards from the boat.

Though the steersman’s position was by no means an agreeable one, Mr. Crookshank could not help laughing at the change of countenance of his companion, who excused himself by saying it was the suddenness of his challenge being accepted that made him pull away in an excited manner. “But now,” he added, rising to his feet, “let him show himself again, and I will not attempt to run.” He had scarcely uttered the words, when the alligator, which was accustomed to follow boats, again rose to the surface. There was no more boasting, but a frantic attempt to get out of the Siol branch.

The alligator took the bait, but got rid of the long rattan fastened to it, by accidentally or purposely winding it round a tree, then breaking it off. However, though his body was not secured, it was most probable he died from the lacerations of the stomach caused by his endeavours to break the rattan, as I have not heard of his being seen since. It was up the Siol branch that a place was found where the body of one of his victims appeared to have been beaten, to break the bones, previously to swallowing. The Malays say the alligators do it by repeated blows of their ponderous head; in fact, one of the large teeth of the reptile was found snapped off on the above-mentioned spot.

As I have told the story of Sadam’s alarm at the sudden appearance of the alligator, I ought in justice to him, to mention an occurrence which took place last year. He and his brother Dand were wandering near Tanjong Po, a rocky point near the entrance of the Sarawak river, when they came to a cave; hearing some movement inside, they entered, and saw two huge alligators at the farther end. Knowing that these ferocious reptiles are not very active, except on soft mud, or in the water, they determined to attack them. They were armed with spears and swords, and entering the cave, Sadam approached the first beast, and

## actively springing clear to avoid its rush, drove his spear into the

soft side, and with his brother’s aid soon severed the head from its body. Encouraged by their success they advanced to attack the second, which was vainly endeavouring to escape over the broken rocks, and soon succeeded in destroying it.

I was conversing one day with a French priest who had resided many years in Siam, and he told me he had seen men there catch the alligator in the following manner:--In the upper Menam, where the river is broad and shallow, but with deep pools occasionally, the alligators are both numerous and fierce; yet the inhabitants, who are very fond of eating the flesh, pursue them with great courage and skill. Six or seven men proceed to a pool where one of these reptiles is supposed to lurk, and with long poles, sound every portion of it; if an animal be there he is soon disturbed, and driven towards the shallower part of the river, even to the sandbanks, where expert men throw their lassoes round his feet and tail. When they think him somewhat exhausted, a bold hunter, springing on the alligator’s back, places his hands over the creature’s eyes, which then always remains quiet. A noose is quickly slipped over his head, and the animal hauled ashore.

Alligators lay their eggs in the jungle. I remember hearing the late Mr. Brereton tell the following story: He was one day hunting in the jungle near the Sakarang fort, when his dogs gave tongue. He followed up quickly, and found they had disturbed a female alligator laying her eggs. Directly she saw him, she gave chase, and he had some difficulty in getting away from her, though the dogs distracted her attention.

Alligators very seldom attack boats, but a case occurred in the Sambas river, where a man was dragged out of a large prahu from among twenty of his companions. My own party was never in danger from them but once, when a large alligator rose within three feet of the boat; but before he could do anything, I had put a rifle-ball into his side, as I happened at that moment to be looking out for a shot at them on the mud banks.

Having stopped so early, we had plenty of leisure-time on our hands; and being seated on a pretty pebbly bank, I commenced a game of ducks and drakes in the water, in which I was soon joined by the whole party--it afforded them great amusement. I may here remark that you may allow this kind of freedom with your native followers, without their ever taking advantage of it another time. If they see you inclined to chat, or to amuse yourself with them, they are delighted; if you desire to be quiet, they never disturb you by any intrusion or undue familiarity.

My cook Ahtan, who was very much annoyed last night by having to set before me so poor a dinner as stale bread and salt fish, determined, as he had a long afternoon before him, to devote it to cooking,

## particularly as I always divided it into two portions, one for him,

and one for myself. The curry he produced was admirable, and having secured a cucumber last night, he was enabled to add what the Malays call a sambal, of which there are many kinds; the one he made was of the sliced cucumber, and green and red chillies cut into fine threads; others are of dried salt fish finely powdered, or fish roes, or hard-boiled eggs, or the tender shoots of the bamboo, but with all, or nearly all, red or green chillies are added. The most delicious I have ever seen put on table was made of prawns about an inch long, partly boiled, then seasoned with freshly prepared curry mixture, and at last slightly moved over the fire in a frying-pan, taking care not to burn it; if chillies are added judiciously, so as not to render it too fiery, it causes a keen appetite to all but a confirmed invalid.

Malay cookery is sometimes very tasty; I remember spending a fortnight in the Sultan’s palace, and we were fed daily from his kitchen; sometimes the stewed fowls were admirable, and there was a particular kind of rice-cake sent in very hot, which was delicious. But the triumph of Malay cookery is to send in the sambals in perfection,

## particularly the one called blachang; the best is composed of the very

finest prawns, caught, I imagine, soon after the little ones have burst from their eggs, and pounded up with red chillies, and a little ginger. Coarser kinds are made from the larger prawn, or even from the smallest fish caught on the river’s banks. Sometimes the material is first exposed to the sun in order to be completely dried, or it would not keep or mix very well, though it is often soaked till nearly decomposed, and that is perhaps the favourite way when it emits a rather powerful scent, but it is very tasty. Prawns and fish are cooked in a great variety of ways, but roasting them over a fire as abobs, is an excellent fashion, if you first sprinkle them with curry mixture.

I have mentioned the admirable curry which Ahtan put before me; perhaps I ought to explain how we make that dish in the Far East; it appears a very different thing from what I have tasted in England under the name of curry: a fowl is cut up into small pieces, and four dried and two green onions, five chillies, half a turmeric, one teaspoonful of coriander seed, one of white cumin, and one of sweet cumin are provided. You must well pound the seeds, turmeric and chillies, and slice the onions fine; then take the saucepan, and after buttering it, slightly brown the onions, then add the pounded ingredients with just sufficient water to reduce them to a paste, and throw in the fowl and well mix them up, till the meat has a yellow tint, and lastly, add the cocoa-nut milk, and boil till the curry be thoroughly cooked. I hope my teaching is sufficiently clear to be understood, but I must add, the cocoa-nut milk is made by scraping the meat of half of an old nut very fine, then soaking it in warm water, and after squeezing out the milk, throw the fibre away. I watched the whole process of cooking with great interest, and almost fancy I could make a curry myself.

After dark, while the men were sitting in their tents, I had a talk with the Orang Kaya Upit about the treatment of the aborigines. Now that we are away from the influence of the rajahs, he will speak out, and tell me anecdotes that otherwise would never reach my ears: they are admirably illustrative of the present method of governing this country. A few years ago, a Murut of the Limpasong village killed a tax-gatherer. There was little doubt that the Murut could only excuse himself by urging oppression; and that had he been seized and executed, nothing could very well be said on the subject; but the present Sultan thought differently: instead of killing the offending Murut, he determined to destroy the village of about two hundred souls. He collected a force of Malays to attack the houses from the river, and promised the Muruts the heads, slaves, and plunder, if they attacked by land. The Limpasong people surrounded by a couple of thousand men had no chance; they made a slight resistance, then fled. The Muruts in the woods fell upon them, killed about fifty, and took about the same number of women and children prisoners; the rest escaped. The Orang Kaya thought nothing of this; but the grievance was that the Sultan took away all the prisoners as his slaves, and likewise defrauded the Muruts of the most valuable plunder.

Again, in 1850, the nephew of the late Sultan was dunning a Bisaya for an imaginary debt; the man, to escape annoyance, tried to jump out of the verandah, when a follower of the noble wounded him with a sharp stick. This roused his friends, and they killed the whole party. Directly they had done so, they remembered the gravity of the act, and formed a league with the neighbouring villages to resist the force that was sure to attack them from the capital. They erected a stockade, and a few of their bravest men defended it for a short time: there was much firing and great beating of gongs, but little damage. The noise, however, frightened the Bisayas and Muruts, and they fled; but as they left the stockade, Orang Kaya Upit fired his musket, and killed a Bornean. This was enough to prevent all idea of pursuit.

Now was the time for the wily Makota to settle matters: he sent a flag of truce, and after some discussion, it was agreed that four persons should be given up to suffer death in satisfaction for those who were killed with the Sultan’s nephew. Now comes the infamous part of the story. The aborigines gave up a stranger, who had married in the country, and who had had nothing whatever to do with the original murders: they gave him up, with his wife, his grandfather, and grandmother, and his two children--the last were kept as slaves by Makota, the other four executed.

I mentioned the Sultan’s nephew was dunning for an imaginary debt: I must explain this. There is a system in this country called “serra,” or “serra dagang,” or forced trade, which I have before referred to, but it is carried on in the neighbourhood of the capital to an extent unknown elsewhere. Every noble of any influence that thinks proper goes to a tribe with some cloth, and calling the chief, orders him to divide it among his tribe; he then demands as its price from twenty to a hundred times its value. He does not expect to get the whole at once, but it enables him to dun the tribe for years after. Not content with taking their goods for these imaginary debts, they constantly seize their young children and carry them off as slaves. The tribe who killed the Sultan’s nephew had actually paid their serra to thirty-three different nobles that year, and had been literally stripped of all their food, before giving way to passion, they destroyed the whole party above referred to.

Makota was enabled to settle the matter quickly, because without the food they get from Limbang, the capital would starve. I little thought that within three months of my writing the above lines, Makota would likewise have lost his life by his infamous oppressions.

A system very much encouraged by the Borneans is to induce the Orang Kayas to sell as slaves all the orphans of a tribe, or the children of any poor Murut who cannot pay his debts: they are systematically corrupting the tribes. In hearing these stories of the Sultan and his nobles, which, I may add, I have no doubt are quite correctly and fairly told by the Muruts, as I have often heard the same or similar ones from the Borneans, I was reminded of the old Malay saying of the four qualities which a ruler should possess. The Borneans, though they know the words, have forgotten the spirit: a sovereign should be brave, just, patient, and yet possess the power of being angry.

Old Japer makes me long to visit the great mountain of Tilong. I asked him to give me some idea of it; he answered, “Imagine the flat summit of Kina Balu carried higher till it ended in a peak;” it is occasionally white at the top, but rarely remains so for many hours after sunrise, so it does not reach the regions of perpetual snow. I should like to organize an expedition to explore it; he says it is quite practicable. I may even see the great diamond now in the hands of a Malau chief, who would even give it me if I would help him to destroy a Malay noble who attacked his house in order to get possession of this famous stone: the Malay was driven off, not however before he had lodged a ball in the jaw of the Malau chief. “To avenge this wound he would give you anything.” I told him I would go to see the mountain and the diamond, if he would take me; but he says he hopes to perform the pilgrimage to Mecca towards the end of the year, if I will assist him. He wants to see the land that “God made holy, and where He performed so many wonderful works.” He fears that, as now he is an old man, he may die without fulfilling the desire of his life.

Speaking of the Malau diamond reminds me of the famous one formerly said to be possessed by the Sultan of Matan, for which he was offered immense sums. Borneo, however, has always been famous for its diamonds, which are worked at the present time by the Chinese and Malays at Landak, a country lying farther inland than Sambas; and there are two streams in Sarawak, the Santah, and a branch of the Quop, where diamonds of a very fine water have been found, but those places have not yet been regularly explored. Occasionally very pretty diamonds are brought over from the Dutch territories to Sarawak, but I have seldom examined them. It is never safe to trust to reports respecting diamonds; for instance, I was once informed that a noble in Brunei had a very large diamond which he wished to part with, but when we came to examine it, we found it was a pinkish topaz, as large as a pullet’s egg, and he asked a thousand pounds for it.

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