In the morning, after breakfast, Mr. Treacher returned down the river, but could not cross to Labuan until next day, as a heavy sea was running with much wind and rain, so he had to put back to Pulo Sirra until morning. After his departure I had a consultation with “Bongsur” about the country, and eventually decided to shift my quarters from his father’s house to that of his brother, from which the forests and hills of the district could be more readily reached. A party of natives and one or two Muruts who had come to the Kadyan’s village to trade, soon got all my traps stowed into the canoes, and half an hour’s pull brought us to the clearing in which my future head-quarters were situated. I found here half-a-dozen palm-leaf houses built on piles six feet high, a notched tree trunk serving as a ladder by which to enter. The largest house was forty or fifty yards long by eighteen or twenty feet wide, and being nearly new, it was clean and in good condition. It was occupied by “Bongsur’s” brother, a lithe and intelligent young fellow named “Moumein,” and three or four other families.
Within, it was simply one large room open to the roof, and divided in half by the central path, communicating with doors at either end. On the right were the hearths for cooking, water-jars, bamboos, baskets, and other simple tools or utensils, the left-hand side being covered with the sleeping-mats of the separate families. Two or three mosquito nets hung over the mats, and at the head of each hung the parong, spear, musket, or other arms of the men, other spears, shields, blowpipes, &c., being laid across the timbers overhead. The floor was of open lattice-work, or rather parallel nebong laths an inch apart, so that perfect ventilation is obtained; and these houses are always cool. The owner was not at home, but his wife brought a board and desired “Bongsur” to partition off one of the corner compartments for me, which was soon done; and getting up the boxes, hammock-sleeping gear, &c., the place soon assumed a more comfortable appearance.
As it was a beautiful clear afternoon I left my “boy” to prepare dinner, and started off to the forest with half-a-dozen of the native boys who had followed from the village. I shot a pretty scarlet-breasted trogan with beautifully pencilled wings, in a large fig tree near the houses. We had a rather rough walk through long grass, in which ugly concealed logs were plentiful; and the only bridges across the streams were formed of a single tree-trunk, often a very slender one not perfectly straight, so that when a particular part of it was reached in one’s journey across, it had a treacherous knack of turning round and landing one in muddy water up to the neck. The natives are used to such slender makeshifts for bridges, and, being barefoot, are as sure-footed as goats.
We followed one little stream for about two miles, and reached a rocky hill about five hundred feet high, where rhododendrons (R. javanicum) were flowering freely. Hoyas and various orchids were in bloom on the lowest trees; and it was on bare tree-trunks on this hill that I saw the Veitchian pitcher-plant (Nepenthes Veitchii) wild for the first time. It has a singular habit of clasping the trunks on which it is epiphytal with its leaves, and many which bear pitchers have the blade of the leaf much reduced. Four other pitcher-plants grew on this hill, namely, N. gracilis, N. hirsuta, N. Rafflesiana, and the large-urned variety of the last named, known as “glaberrima.” A dendrobium bearing clusters of milk-white flowers was common, as also were bolbophyllums and several greenish-flowered cœlogynes.
The ground in some places was matted with a very pretty terrestrial orchid (Bromheadia Finlaysoniana) which has leafy stems two to three feet in height, terminated by a zig-zag flattened spike of white-petalled flowers as large as those of the “Spotted Indian Crocus” (Pleione maculata), and having a blotch of lemon-yellow on the lip and some bright amethystine veins or streaks. We loaded the men with roots and specimens, and then returned to the houses just before nightfall. It was during the wet season, and after dark each evening the mosquitoes were most ravenous. As a remedy for this annoyance the women lighted fires beneath the house, on which cocoa-nut husks were placed and made to smoulder gradually. This certainly kept the little pests at bay, but the smoke brought tears to one’s eyes, and was almost as bad to bear as the mosquito bites.
The wild forest fruits were now plentiful in this district, and, as a natural consequence, birds and monkeys were abundant also, for they migrate to different places as the fruits begin to ripen. The bird-hunters were busy, and rarely a day passed but I was gladdened with the sight of some bird or other animal that was novel to me. Argus, Bulwer, and Fireback pheasants and other large ground birds were caught in snares or springes, while hornbills, owls, eagles, or hawks, and large birds generally were killed with shot, or very often small gravel discharged from an old Tower musket. The smallest birds, especially the brilliant little sweets or sunbirds, were killed with small arrows from the blow-pipe or “sumpitan,” in the use of which some of the Muruts and Kadyans are especially expert. Even large game was formerly obtained in this way, poisoned arrows being used, in which case the harmless-looking blow-pipe becomes one of the most subtle and deadly of weapons. The slightest puncture with one of these poisoned darts is as certain to terminate fatally as is the bite of the cobra; and this, added to the possibility of the arrow being propelled on its journey with lightning-like speed, without the least sound being heard, will give an idea of its deadly power in the skilful hands of savages, to whose ambition the death of an enemy and the possession of his bleached skull for the decoration of their dwellings on feast days, was the all-important feature of their social existence.
I have seen a Murut strike fish after fish with unerring certainty with arrows from a sumpitan, even at more than a foot below the surface of the stream; a much more difficult thing to do than one might suppose, since allowance has to be made for the deviation from a right line which the arrow takes on touching the water. The springes in which pheasants are caught are set in artificial fences half a mile or more in length, and are simply nooses of rattan, although rarely thin brass wire is used. A bent sapling is attached to the noose in such a manner that when the bird runs against a twig in passing through the opening in the fence it becomes disengaged, and flying upwards, draws the noose tightly around the creature’s neck.
A device similar in principle, but much more dangerous, is used by the Muruts for capturing the wild pigs. In this case a stout spear of bamboo is made to pass through guiding loops of rattan attached to trees or stakes, so that by the aid of a stout sapling drawn back to its fullest tension it can be hurled right through the body of any passing animal, which unconsciously disengages the apparatus by pressing against or treading on a branch across its track. These pig-sticking contrivances are very dangerous to strangers, and even the Muruts themselves are sometimes injured by them.
One of the Lawas Muruts showed me where the bamboo spear belonging to one of these pig or deer-traps had been driven right through his leg near the knee. His bronzed features underwent the most extraordinary and suggestive of contortions as he explained how it had taken the strength of five or six men to hold him against a tree while others tugged at the bamboo shaft until they succeeded in withdrawing it from the injured limb. In some districts these pig-traps are very numerous, and one has to be continually on the look-out for them. I visited the Lawas district several times, and had good opportunities of seeing the Muruts, and noting many of their peculiarities. Their houses are similar to those of the Dusun, but instead of living in separate houses, one enormous house is built sufficiently large to accommodate from twenty to fifty families. These houses vary from thirty to one hundred yards in length, and, like those of the Kadyans, are built on piles. As the different tribes are continually at variance with each other, and knowing each other’s affection for crania, they congregate in one large dwelling so as to be better prepared for resistance in case of a sudden attack. These people, and the Kayans who live in the vicinity of the Baram river, and one or two other tribes of the aboriginal Borneans, still continue the practice of head-hunting, although the custom is now fast dying out here, as it has in the case of the Dyaks of Sarawak, and other places further south. Only a few years back a youth was not allowed to marry until he had taken the head of an enemy, and if any ill-luck or death occurred in the tribe these head-hunting raids were indulged in at once to appease the malignant spirits which were believed to have been the cause; or if a chief’s favourite wife or child died, he at once took to head-hunting in a bloodthirsty spirit of revenge.
The desire to shed blood seems inherent in all savage natures, and is adhered to tenaciously even after civilisation has reached them, and so it happens that human heads or skulls are considered the most valuable property of these wild Borneans, just as the Sioux and other Indians of North America still attach a peculiar value to the scalp locks of their foes. Even although head-hunting is gradually becoming a thing of the past in Borneo, still so highly are the old skulls valued even by the now peaceable tribes who have not taken a head for years, that they can rarely be induced to part with them, no matter how much may be offered in exchange. In several Murut houses I visited near the Lawas large baskets full of human crania were preserved as trophies of the prowess of the tribe.