I made several dips into the patches of old forest in search of plants, but nothing of interest was seen. Orchids appeared to be very rare, and with the exception of a dingy yellow-flowered cleisostoma which grew rather plentifully on the teak-trees, nothing more was seen. We had had a long and wearying walk, and it was about half-an-hour before sundown when we returned to the boat and pulled to the ship for dinner. I was very tired, but altogether pleased at having secured at least one new species of orchid as well as two or three birds that I had never seen before. After dinner I occupied myself in sketching my new pink orchid and in helping my “boy” skin the birds I wished to preserve.
I was happy in the labour, and no description could possibly convey any idea of that delight which fills one when new and beautiful objects of natural history are discovered for the first time.
CHAPTER X.
A ROYAL PIG-HUNT.
A royal boar hunt—The Sultan of the Sulus—Sultana and ladies of the court—Sulu costume and arms—Fine breed of ponies—Rough ground—Pig sticking—Food for the dogs—A pleasing sight—Invitation to the Istana—Datu Mahomed—The Sulu “Prince of Wales”—Curious saddles—Pony racing—Meimbong stream—Pleasant evening light—Birds—Large bats—Abundance of butterflies—Fine fish—Good angling—The “Hill of Tears”—Sugh, the old capital—Market at Meimbong—Tobacco—Native produce—Chain armour—Chinese settlers.
Soon after dinner one of the Sultan’s “ministers” came on board to tell us that a grand pig-hunt was to be held on the morrow, at which the Sultan and suite were to be present, and as royal boar-hunts are not every-day affairs, we all made up our minds to get ponies and go to see the sport. These pig-hunting forays are as popular in Sulu as a royal stag-hunt at home, only that the Sulus have perhaps a better reason to hunt their wild pigs, since they do a deal of damage to the growing crops. About 9 o’clock in the morning we went down to the headman’s house at Meimbong and got our ponies saddled, and after a ride of about half-an-hour through long grass and bushes we came upon the beaters and dogs in a strip of low jungle at the foot of a little hill. The men were yelling and shouting so as to frighten the pigs from their covert out into the grassy plain, where horsemen, each armed with a long slender-shafted hunting-spear, were waiting in readiness to give chase and dispatch them. We, too, waited here a little while, but finding no signs of sport we rode on to a clump of low trees on the hill-side where we were told the Sultan and his people were waiting. We found His Highness had dismounted, and was sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, smoking and watching for signs of sport. He looked pleased to see us, and after he had shaken hands with Mr. Cowie, whom he had long known, I was introduced to him. Mr. Cowie told him I had come to explore the island for natural history purposes, and that I particularly wished to ascend the two highest mountains. He seemed rather amused to hear of a traveller looking for flowers and birds, but graciously replied that I could go where I liked and he would tell his people to help me, adding, that the best way of reaching the highest mountain would be to come to his Istana and sleep there, after which the mountain could be ascended in a day from that place. I had previously been recommended to his good offices by the government at Labuan through their consular agent, Inche Mahomed, of Brunei, who had landed here in Sulu a day or two previously in H.M. gunboat “Fly,” Capt. McNeil. As I saw His Highness here seated on a fallen tree I could not help noticing how emblematical the position was, since at the best his position here as Sultan is but nominal, so fallen are the fortunes of his house. Only two months after my visit, i.e., in July, 1878, the Spaniards, after nibbling like timid mice at the Sulu cheese for centuries took formal possession of the whole island by hoisting their flag in the Sultan’s capital of Meimbong.
Behind him the Sultana and the ladies of her Court were mounted on ponies, one or two scarlet and gold coloured umbrellas being held over them. Altogether there were ten or twelve mounted ladies and several female attendants, betel-box carriers, &c., on foot. The Sultan himself had forty or fifty followers standing around in a broken circle. He is about thirty-five years of age, and has a bright and intelligent countenance. His dress consisted of an embroidered silk kerchief tied turban fashion on his head, a dark close-fitting jacket of semi-transparent material, embroidered with red and yellow flowers, and having tight sleeves. Under this he wore a white merino vest. Like most of his followers he wore breeches which fit very tight below the knee, and are wide and baggy in the seat. These were black and beautifully embroidered with flowers just below the knee. White socks and elastic-sided boots of European manufacture completed what my sailor friends called “his queer rig.” His eldest son, an “awful young sweep,” of about twenty years of age, was much more gaily attired in a white striped blue vest and trowsers, and a bright buff head-dress, while, like his father, he wore the short heavy Sulu sword or “barong.” The Sultana and her suite kept in the background, of course, but were evidently much interested at our visit. I noted that she wore full Turkish trowsers of blue silk richly embroidered, and a blue vest fitting very tight and ornamented with gold buttons, lace in front, using the universal sarong as a covering for her shoulders; around her head a clear buff kerchief was tied turban fashion; white cotton stockings and a pair of Chinese slippers completed her outward visibilities. Nearly all the Sulu women wear a deal of yellow, which contrasts vividly with their luxuriant black hair, and like the men they ride well and also in the same style,—exactly, fair reader,—à la fourchette!
We also had dismounted, of course, and had stood talking and looking on the particoloured scene and swarthy faces around us, when suddenly a cry from the jungle below, a regular chorus of men and dogs, told us that the bristly boar had at last been driven into the open grass to run for his life. Everybody, Sultan and all, scrambled to their ponies and away we all went, a gay cavalcade truly, down the hill-side. Presently the pig came in sight, followed by one or two miserable-looking curs and half-a-dozen men and boys on horseback, each armed with the long light-shafted spear. We now saw of what sterling metal the Sulu ponies are made. On they came with dilated nostrils and widely-spread forefeet, scarcely requiring a touch of the reins to guide them as they avoided a jutting rock here or a half-hidden “snag” there, and all the time turned and wheeled as quickly as the hunted pig itself. No European horse would have kept its legs ten minutes on this uneven ground, paved as it was with immense blocks of volcanic scoriæ. These intelligent little beasts seemed actually to understand and enjoy the sport. One young fellow, mounted on a shapely little grey, at length came up alongside the pig. Throwing his hempen bridle on the pony’s neck, and deftly handling his long spear, he wounded the boar in the side, at which it turned and rushed at the horse, its long white curved tusks gleaming beside its open jaws. Quick as thought the pony avoided him, and ere the pig could stay its impetuous rush the rider’s spear was struck right through its body at a thrust, the gleaming blade having entered the soil to a depth of several inches. It was killed on the spot. The rider unfastened a length of slender manilla rope from his saddle and threw it to a man on foot, who slipped a noose over the body of the pig and afterwards tied the other end of the rope to the horse’s tail, and thus it was dragged away to the heap of slain porkers some distance off. Seeing a couple of horsemen galloping in another direction we concluded they had a pig in chase, and so it proved. We headed the game and they soon came up to it, and a thrust or two with the deadly spear and all was over with poor piggie. This was a small black fellow about half the size of an English boar. Not entertaining the prejudices of our Mahomedan friends we begged the body of this last pig, and when the captors asked for what purpose we required it, we discreetly replied that we wanted it for our dogs. This was satisfactory, and one of the men volunteered to drag it down to the boat at his pony’s tail.
I shall not forget the Royal Pig Hunt in Sulu for some time. There we were among the tall grass and jungle, and the ever changing position of the numerous gaily attired horsemen was a beautiful sight to see. A group of fox-hunters at home by a covert side is a pleasing sight, but here in the region of perpetual sunshine and palm-leaves—in this “beautiful isle of the sea”—the sight was not only pleasing but quite a novelty to us—a thing seen for the first time, and perchance an experience never to be enjoyed again. Down below us we could see long files of horsemen wending their way to another piece of covert which the men on foot and dogs were now beating, while, on the little rounded hill above, the Sultana and her ladies formed a bright and picturesque group on horseback, their large vividly-coloured umbrellas standing out clear and sharp against the cloudless sky.