However, there was one feature about this remote place which was repugnant—the prevalent flogging of children with rattan, mostly among the Mohammedan Malays. Not a day passed without wails and violent cries arising in some part of the town, especially during the forenoon, although I did not perceive that the children here were more incorrigible than elsewhere. The Dayaks never beat their children, and later I did not observe similar cruelty among Malays. Wise though King Solomon was, his precept not to spare the rod should be regarded in the light of his large family, "700 wives, princesses, and 300 concubines." Even in the training of animals, better results are obtained by omitting the lash.
In the beginning of January, 1914, I was able to start for Kaburau. The controleur courteously provided for my use the government's steamship Sophia, which in six hours approached within easy distance of the kampong. My party consisted of Ah Sewey, a young Chinese photographer from Singapore whom I had engaged for developing plates and films, also Chonggat, a Sarawak Dayak who had had his training at the museum of Kuala Lampur in the Malay Peninsula. Finally, Go Hong Cheng, a Chinese trader, acted as interpreter and mandur (overseer). He spoke several Dayak dialects, but not Dutch, still less English, for Malay is the lingua franca of the Dutch Indies as well as of the Malay Peninsula. As we anchored for the night I heard for the first time, from the hills that rose near by, the loud defiant cry of the argus pheasant. How wildly weird it sounds on a quiet evening!
The next morning the Kayans met us with boats to take us up to their kampong, Kaburau. Some women were pounding paddi (rice) under the large communal house which, in accordance with the custom of the country, was raised from the ground on posts. Dogs were much in evidence, both on the ground below and on the gallery of the house above. The canine species kept by the Dayaks have erect ears, are rather small and their colour is usually dull yellow. Here they were variously coloured, some entirely black, and fights among them were of frequent occurrence. Ascending the ladder I found a large tame bird of the stork family chained to the gallery, for the Dayaks often keep birds and animals in their houses.
The chief very hospitably had prepared one room for all four of us to lodge in, which did not exactly suit me, as I like to have a place where at times I may be chez moi, for the night at least. There was no suitable place outside for my tent, so I decided to paddle a few hundred kilometres up the river to a dilapidated camping-house for travellers, put up by the Dayaks under government order. Such a house is called pasang-grahan and may be found in many out-of-the-way places in Borneo.
Though generally crude and unpretentious huts where travelling soldiers or Malays put up, these shelters are very useful, especially for the night. There is another kind of pasang-grahan, comfortable structures provided with beds, similar to the rest-houses in India. In the more civilised parts these are built for the use of officials and other travellers. The one referred to had roof and walls of palm leaves, and as a matter of course, stood on piles. Though said to be only three years old it was already very shaky; still after clearing away the grass and some of the jungle next to it, we established quite a comfortable camp.
Chonggat brought in a number of birds and animals here, among them the lovely raja bird, snow-white except for the deep blue head, and with a very long graceful tail. It is also called paradise flycatcher (terpsiphone), and is found from Sumatra up into middle China. In Borneo it is quite common, being observed also on the Mahakam in the central part of the island. According to the legend, it formerly cost a man his life to kill it. This man soon showed himself to be an excellent worker who took his business very seriously and did not allow himself to be distracted when I amused visiting Kayans with simple moving pictures and by playing a music-box. The jungle, dripping with dew in the early morning, did not deter him, and at night it was his custom to shoot owls and hunt for deer or other animals. After arranging his tent with little or no help from the Dayaks, he would next put up a frame-work on which to dry his skins, under a roof of palm leaves; here a fire was always kept, without which the skins would have spoiled in that damp climate. Chonggat had a fine physique, was always pleasant and willing and was possessed of more than ordinary intelligence withal. Also keenly humourous, he enjoyed my initial mistakes in Malay, though maintaining a proper respect for the leader of the expedition.
In the evening, having retired for the day, he, as well as the Chinese photographer could be heard in their respective tents studying English from small guidebooks which they had brought along. He told me that his earnings were invested in a small rubber plantation which he and his brothers worked together. Chonggat was a good example of what a native of Borneo can accomplish under proper civilizing influences.
One morning he brought in a king cobra (naia bungarus) which he had shot, and as life was not yet extinct I got a good photograph of it. This serpent was about three metres long, but these very poisonous snakes, called ular tadong by the Malays, attain a length of seven metres. They are beautifully formed for quick movement, and will attack human beings, the female being particularly vicious when it has eggs. "When I see ular tadong coming toward me," said Chonggat, who was no coward, "then I run." There are several species of very poisonous snakes in Borneo, but according to my experience they are not very numerous. Two small ones, about thirty-five centimetres long, are the most common varieties encountered in the jungle. They are sluggish and somewhat similar in appearance, dark brown and red being the principal colours. One of them has its under side decorated with transverse sections of beautiful scarlet alternating with black.
Ah Sewey, the photographer, was also an efficient man, but at first we had immense difficulty with the developing. One cannot count on water cooler than 75° F., and at that temperature the films come out well, but in the beginning many plates were spoiled. For the photographer in the tropics the use of formalin is an absolute necessity. He must also face other difficulties, avoiding among other things the possibility of having his films, when drying, eaten by small species of grasshoppers.