Part 5 (2/2)
A suggestion of another hunt the following day by Bakar was politely but firmly declined, and we left early the following afternoon at five--our anchorage being in a very feverish locality. The halt for the night was to be at a large Dyak house, fifteen miles down stream, and half way to Sadong.
I would remark, for the benefit of sportsmen in general, that the whole of the two days spent in this interesting locality we were unable to leave the boat, owing to the swampy nature of the ground; and as our only recreation consisted of two of Whyte Melville's works, ”The Gladiators” and ”Digby Grand” (the latter with half the leaves torn out), the weary hours, as may be imagined, did _not_ fly, and we were not sorry to set off the next day for the Dyak Pangkalan,[12] on as wet, dreary, and uncomfortable an afternoon as it has ever been my lot to experience in Borneo or elsewhere.
We sighted lights on the left bank about eleven o'clock the same evening. Rain was still falling in torrents; but the noise of gongs and drums in the distance announced that we had nearly arrived at the end of our journey. To land, however, was easier said than done; for the stream, swollen by the heavy rains, was running at a terrific rate, and carried us right past the landing-stage ere our bowman could hold on and make fast, cras.h.i.+ng us into a large war-canoe moored just beyond, the property of the ”Orang Kaya,” or head-man of the house whither we were bound. We at length succeeded, after a deal of trouble, in securing the sampan to the bank; and, despatching two of our boatmen to announce our arrival to the chief, awaited the invitation which would probably be brought back to stay the night, this being strict etiquette in Bornean travel. During the absence of our two messengers the yells and beating of gongs proceeding from the house, which stood at a distance of about 300 yards from the landing-place, proclaimed that a feast of some sort was being held; and we were debating what subst.i.tutes for tobacco and gin (our supply of which we had nearly exhausted) we could present our hosts with, when our men returned. There was no feast, said they. What we heard were the cries of the ”manangs,” or medicine-men, whose mode this was of driving away the evil spirit of ”char-char,” or small-pox, which had attacked nearly a third of the inmates of the dwelling. L. and I, on hearing this, promptly deciding that mosquito bites were preferable to small-pox, determined not to land, but to sleep in the boat. Our cook, the Kling, who up till this had maintained a stolid silence, now became quite excited, and joined in the conversation. There was hardly a house on the river, said he, entirely free from this loathsome disease; the Dyaks were flying from it in all directions, and added that he himself was not sorry to be returning to Sadong, as two of his own children were very ill with it, and he ought not by rights to have left them!
This was pleasant, to say the least of it, but it was now too late to mend matters, and wrapping ourselves in our rugs we essayed to sleep.
The howling and beating of gongs in the house, however, rendering this quite impossible, the inevitable ”square-face” was therefore produced, and, lighting our pipes, we made up our minds for a thoroughly wretched night--and got it; till about six a.m., when the noise ceased, and the M.D.'s, I conclude, retired to that rest which they must have sorely needed, to say nothing of their unfortunate patients!
Small-pox is and has ever been a disease greatly dreaded by the aborigines of Borneo, for living as they do in crowded and ill-ventilated dwellings, this terrible scourge, whenever it breaks out amongst them, commits great ravages. A regular panic ensues on the appearance of the epidemic; those seized being left to their fate, with perhaps a bundle of firewood and gourd of cold water placed within their reach, while their more fortunate companions take their flight up or down the river as the case may be, spreading infection wherever they go. It is not surprising, therefore, that so few recover, although vaccination, which is now compulsory in Sarawak, has greatly decreased the number of those attacked.
The ”manangs,” or medicine-men aforementioned, are a queer race of creatures. Although of the male s.e.x, they are dressed as women, living in the Sadow and possessing all the privileges of the other s.e.x.
Small-pox is never mentioned by its proper name of ”char-char” by the Dyaks, but always spoken of as ”he,” ”she,” or ”it;” for they imagine the mere mention of its name may attract, and bring it amongst them.
An amusing anecdote is told of an old Dyak living in the house we were moored off that dismal night. This old man (of some 60 years) became enamoured, while on a visit to Kuching, of an English lady's-maid residing there; so much so, that he repeatedly urged her to marry and accompany him to his jungle home. This offer was declined with thanks; but on the morning of the day of the departure of this merry old gentleman for his country residence, the lady missed her chignon, which she had placed on her dressing-table the night before on retiring to rest. Not being possessed of so much hair as she might have been, this was no inconsiderable loss. Six months later, when the event was nearly forgotten, an officer up the Simunjan, noticing what looked like a scalp on our old friend's girdle, and knowing that the Dyaks never take them, examined the object more closely; and, having heard the story of its abstraction from the lady's apartment by the elderly lover, took it from him and returned with it in triumph to Kuching! Such true love was worthy of a better cause, for the lady was considerably more annoyed than flattered by the incident, chignons not being an article kept in stock by the native _coiffeurs_ of Kuching.
We reached Sadong late the following evening, and partook of a frugal meal at the fort, this time not prepared by our native Soyer, one of whose children had died in our absence. The old chief was at our side ere we had eaten our first mouthful, silent as ever; but dinner over, and his cheroot well under way, he became more loquacious than we had yet known him.
”Perhaps,” said he, dreamily, ”you had better not stay here longer than you can help. Small-pox is raging in the kampong (village); there is scarcely a house free from it, and it would be a sad thing if one or both of the Tuans[13] were to die here.”
We were much of the same opinion, and the evening of the next day but one saw us again on board the little _Sri_, bound for Kuching.
The sun was setting behind the distant Klinkang mountains as we left Sadong, illuminating the landscape around us with its declining rays.
Scarcely a breath of wind was stirring, and our little sail flapped lazily to and fro against the slender mast as we drifted slowly down the river. The evening being sultry and oppressive, dense grey mists were already arising from the Simunjan stream, enshrouding the pretty village in their sickly vapours, and the cries of the Malay ”Hajis,”
praying at the setting of the sun for deliverance from the fatal scourge which was rapidly decimating their population, sounded in melancholy cadence over the water, while the booming of gongs from distant Dyak houses lent to their voices a weird and appropriate accompaniment. All around seemed to wear a depressed and melancholy aspect, even to the very palm-trees, which, drooping their fronds in the damp, hot atmosphere, seemed to be mourning the fate of those who had perished in this plague-stricken spot.
We reached Kuching the next day, not greatly impressed with the sport to be obtained in Borneo, nor will, I imagine, be the reader of the foregoing chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 11: ”Moniet,” monkey.]
[Footnote 12: Landing-place.]
[Footnote 13: A t.i.tle by which every European is addressed.]
CHAPTER VIII.
Preparations for Departure--Leave Sarawak--A Squall--A Dutch Dinner--Batavia--Weltereoden--Life in Java-- Buitenzorg--Koerapan--Dutch Soldiers--A Review--Modes of Execution in the Archipelago--The World-Wide Circus--Return to Singapore--Leave for Europe--Gibraltar.
Our days were now numbered in Sarawak, and we had but little time before us, as we intended making a journey to Java, the princ.i.p.al Dutch possession in the Eastern Archipelago, ere we returned to England.
Packing up now became the order of the day. The skins of beasts and birds of all kinds strewed the floor of our little bungalow, transforming it into a sort of miniature museum, for we had made a very fair collection considering our short stay in the country, including no less than one hundred different specimens of b.u.t.terflies, three of the rare and lovely _Brookeana_ amongst them. It may be of use to collectors of the latter to know that the safest and most convenient way of carrying them any distance is not to set them up when freshly caught, but to simply fold the wings back till they lie flat against each other, and place them thus singly in a common envelope. They will then keep for six months, or even more, unimpaired. This is a far simpler method than that of setting-up, which, even though the amateur be experienced in the art, is always open to the danger of the b.u.t.terflies becoming detached and shaking to pieces in their box.
We left Kuching at midday on the 21st of July, after bidding adieu to all our friends, not without regret at leaving a land where we had pa.s.sed so many pleasant days. The _Raja Brooke_ (a small trading steamer of about 300 tons) was heavily laden, not only with cargo, but also with over 100 deck pa.s.sengers--Malays going on a ”Haji pilgrimage” to Mecca. There was also on board an old Hindoo, the proprietor of a dancing bear, who had been making a good thing of it in the Sarawak capital. The captain, L., and I, were the only inmates of the saloon, and after dinner, it being a fine evening, we sent for our Hindoo friend and his bear to give us a private performance--which had, however, to be suddenly nipped in the bud, the pilgrims insisting on coming aft _en ma.s.se_ and joining in the fun.
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