For several years I had had a standing order from the Antwerp Zoölogical Gardens for a good specimen of orang-outang, and I had planned to go, just as soon as my health permitted, into Borneo, to see what I could find. Orang-outangs command unlimited prices because they are so hard to capture and, once captured, so difficult to deliver. On account of homesickness and sensitiveness to climatic changes, they die quickly in captivity. A caged orang-outang loses his spirit immediately; he sits brooding over his capture and often refuses all food. On one occasion I shipped eighteen small and medium-sized orang-outangs to San Francisco, hoping to land two or three alive, but they all died before reaching port. If I had been able to deliver a good specimen in the United States, I could have sold it for $5,000.
But here were two full-grown beasts, already located, and waiting for me to try my hand at capturing them. I was greatly interested in the story the two headmen had to tell, and I spent the entire afternoon in listening to them and asking them all manner of questions. They described the country where the orang-outangs made their home, and promised as many men as I needed.
I impressed them with the fact that I was not anxious to make the trip, and I made them promise, as a first consideration, that they would use all their power to prevent the natives from killing the animals if I captured them. I feared that the resentment of the natives against the orang-outangs might lead them to kill the animals for revenge, even after I had them safely caged. They agreed to do as I requested and once again begged me to return with them. I told them to come back the next day and talk with me again. I had already made up my mind, but it is always well to let a native think that one has not quite decided.
When I went to see the Dutch Consul-General and explained the situation, he issued passports for me, and, accompanied by the two headmen, the trader, Ali and my coolie boy, I took the next steamer to Pontianak. At Pontianak, I presented my credentials to the Dutch Resident. He was pleased to hear that I was going after the orang-outangs and he offered to let me have as many native officials as I wished to take along. I thanked him and declined his offer, explaining that I really did not know as yet just what I should need, or how long I should be up-country. As a matter of fact, I did not want his native officials because I knew; that the jungle people have no love for them, and I wanted to have my expedition entirely clear of everything that looked official.
We stayed there for several days, getting supplies together. The trader remained with the party at my request, because he was known by both the coast and the jungle people. From a Chinese he rented a houseboat that I could keep as long as I had need of it. The Borneo houseboats are twenty to twenty-five feet long and five feet wide; they have a bamboo shed, which makes a fairly comfortable room, and are rowed or paddled by six men. With a mattress spread on the floor and mosquito-netting hung about, I could take the trip up the river easily. Omar, one of the headmen, stayed with me in my boat, while Mahommed Munshee, the other headman, went ahead with some of the stores.
On the way up the river we came to the station of Dr. Van Erman, the Dutch medical officer who was in charge of the outlying districts. He insisted that I stay with him for two days at least, and I was glad to do so, for he was the last white man I should see before we tackled the orang-outangs. I was anxious to have the benefit of his knowledge of the natives and the country, and also I found it reassuring, under the circumstances, to have the friendship of a medical man. Later, I became his enforced guest and I have always been thankful for his care.
We arrived at Nanaoh-Pinoh, which was Mahommed Munshee's village, two days late. I stayed at Munshee's house while the men prepared boats for the trip up the Melarir River to the spot where the orang-outangs were.
V
THE SEA TRAGEDY OF THE JUNGLE FOLK
It seemed to me, as I waited in Mahommed Munshee's village, that it might be a good plan to establish a reputation among the natives as a worker of wonders. Fame as a magician is easily acquired among these people and is of inestimable value in handling them. For the task that lay before us, I needed all their courage and confidence, and I had a feeling that they were accepting me with some doubt. That would never do, for, unless I had them under perfect control when the hunt reached its most exciting point, all our efforts might be wasted. They showed proper awe of the express rifle that Ali exhibited so proudly, and they took fitting note of my stores, but still they regarded me simply as a white man who might, or might not, be able to do the things he said he was going to do. They were respectful and hospitable, but the more I saw of them, the more I realized the importance of doing some spectacular thing that would distinguish me in their minds and send tales of my magic traveling through the wilderness of jungle. It is astounding, by the way, how rapidly news travels in the jungle. Many times, in breaking through virgin country, I have found that the news of my coming had preceded me and that the natives knew all about me and were waiting for me. The only explanation I could ever get was simply, "Tûan, we heard."