We saw the Sultan again towards the close of the day, and had a further chat with him, in which he much regretted that the English would not help him to resist the aggressions of his neighbours, the Spaniards, whom the Sultan detests, and perhaps not without reason. He sent a man to see how many pigs had been killed, and on being told seventeen, he observed, that they had sometimes killed as many as fifty in one day’s hunting.
Thanking him for his invitation to us to visit him at the Istana, which he had again repeated, we bade him adieu, and returned towards Meimbong, well pleased with our day’s adventures. The Sultan and his suite rode towards the Istana, but his son, before alluded to, accompanied us with a posse of his young followers. When we reached the arable plain near the market-place, we came upon another group of hunters, and nothing would please the young rascal but that I and Mr. Cowie should try some of his father’s horses. They are beautiful creatures of the Sulu breed, but with a little of the Arab blood added. They are never shod, and in picking their way among rocks or fallen trunks of trees they are as sure-footed as a goat. We had some capital racing. The Sulu saddles are of wood, very small, with high wooden pommels, resembling those of a cavalry saddle. The stirrups are represented by a woven hemp riband four feet long and about an inch wide, with a loop at each end, through which the big toe of the rider is inserted. This riband passes through an opening over the top of the saddle, and is not fixed, but slides backwards and forwards according to the pressure brought to bear on it by the rider. Of course, I could not ride on one of these little saddles with sliding stirrups, so I had them taken off and returned to my boyish practice of bare-backed riding. These ponies had been out hunting all day and yet showed no traces of fatigue, indeed they flew over the dry clods at full speed and evidently were quite used to racing—appearing to enjoy it as much as we did ourselves.
After this sport was concluded we returned on board to dinner, after having stopped for a few minutes at the ford near the market to get a bath in the stream, which is here as clear and sparkling as a Derbyshire brook. This day’s public amusement taking place as it did so soon after my arrival was a most fortunate thing for me, since I thus obtained an introduction to the Sultan and most of his people, and wherever I wandered in the island afterwards I was always well received, which was lucky, since the Sulus are not noted for their civility to strangers. Even the small cotters who cultivate their little farms and fruit groves up on the hills had heard of me, and were very hospitable when, as happened soon afterwards, I found my way up amongst them. The Sulu hills are especially beautiful.
Nearly every day, morning and evening, we used to go down to the little Meimbong river near the Orang Kayu’s house to bathe; and in the evening especially the tops of the highest hills were lovely, glowing with warmth in the golden light; now clear, now hazy, the last tremulous kisses of the lingering sun. I used to walk a mile or two up the left bank of the winding river nearly every evening before I had my bath, and I nearly always took my gun, as the birds here were tolerably plentiful, and in some cases very beautiful or interesting. There are at least a dozen kinds of pigeons and doves; and three of the species I shot, I had never seen before. Paroquets are common, and fly shrieking overhead morning and evening. I shot four kinds in all, two large green ones, a white one, and a small green one having a blue head, and a pair of long-shafted, racquet-shaped feathers in its tail.
One of the most conspicuous of the birds here is the gold and black oriole before mentioned, and a blackbird having a grey back and immense flesh-coloured orbits is not uncommon on trees beside the river. Two species of kingfisher were seen; one the common blue kind, with a white ring around its neck, and a discordant, laughing note: white padi birds, curlew, sandpipers, and a crow, are also quite common; eagles, ospreys, and hawks also abound; and I especially noticed an eagle or harrier circling over the grassy plains, regularly hunting the ground, and occasionally stooping as if to secure its prey. This bird is pure white, with black wing tips and tail. A water-rail was seen beside the river near the town, and night-flying birds of the owl tribe were also observed; but the familiar “chuck-chuck” note of the “night-jar,” so common on moonlight nights in Labuan, we never once heard here. I saw one large owl dead, and much regret that I did not skin and preserve it, badly as the thing was mutilated. It resembled our native “barn owl” in general appearance and colour, but was much larger, the spread of its soft fledged wings being over four feet. I saw one species of hornbill on the hills and a pheasant, which, from the momentary glimpse I caught of it, I took to belong to the “fireback” species, so common in some parts of Borneo.
Deer are said to be plentiful; but we did not catch a glimpse of them, although when riding in the interior I have often disturbed the wild pigs among the long-matted grass near the river. An enormous species of day-flying bat was quite common here near the Sultan’s palace, and most weird and supernatural did they appear on dull days, solemnly flying from one tree to another, their great wings distended against the leaden sky overhead. As far as I could see they were feeding on the durian trees which surround the Istana, and probably sipping the nectar from the large white flowers. I shot one which measured four feet six inches across its outspread wings, and its head was as large as that of a little terrier dog, and of a similar shape, being of a dark foxey brown colour. Its eyes were of a sickly pale brown tint, with a small black pupil, and its entire body in the warm limpness of death exhaled such a repulsive musky odour, far worse than any downright stink I ever experienced, and so penetrating and adhesive, that my hands smelt of it for days, in spite of carbolic soap and repeated washings. I had no means of ascertaining whether this is really a distinct species, or whether it is conspecific with the large nocturnal fruit-bat of Borneo, immense flocks of which may be seen passing overhead at dusk to their feeding-grounds, the fruit orchards.
Of all the smaller forms of animal life in temperate countries the butterflies are the most absolutely beautiful. In the tropics they are especially so, being there found of the largest size and most lovely hues. In the rice fields and by the open pathways, lively little golden-winged kinds flutter in the sunshine. Some are quite wholly golden, others amber, with black fringes to their wings; many varieties enliven the river margins, and others sail aloft around the tops of the great forest trees. The nearly dry bed of a forest stream is an attractive spot to many of the finest tropical butterflies, especially if it be chequered with shade and sunshine. In such a place they may be seen by the hundred, flitting, fluttering, skimming or wobbling to and fro, enlivening the cool greenery with their colour, beauty, and variety of motion. Here you see them at home and happy. Their colours defy description, so variable do they appear as seen in the sunlight; sulphur and black, amber and blue, velvety bands, purple shot with bronze, wings of blue, inclining to green, and of green inclining to blue, and of velvety blackness banded with pea or apple-green, are only a few of their combinations. Their beauty of presence is so satisfying, that we almost forget their life history, the egg so dainty in form, and often so beautiful in sculpture, the caterpillar, attractive in its way, and chiefly remarkable for its leaf-eating powers; then the long sleep in a silken hammock, and finally a sunny awakening into life and beauty as a daintily painted butterfly. There must be something in the climate or vegetation of the Sulu islands especially favourable to insect life, and nowhere else did I see butterflies so plentiful as here, not only in the forest and by the river, but around the houses of Meimbong itself.
The site of the market being littered with fragments of fruit and other débris, was especially attractive to them; on being disturbed they fluttered away in crowds, only to return almost immediately to feast on the wasted sweets, and to open and close their gorgeous wings in the sunshine.
We were fortunate in obtaining plenty of fresh fish while lying in harbour here, and there were many kinds, some being strikingly beautiful in colour. Herrings and mackerel—or fish which so closely resemble them in size, colour, and flavour, that we did not distinguish the difference, were often brought on board. A singular white “ink fish,” having large dark eyes and long tentacles, is eaten both by natives and Chinese. A large fish of a vermilion colour, in shape like a large carp, is plentiful and nice eating, as also is a similarly shaped species of an ashy grey colour, its sides delicately banded with blue and yellow. In the river are freshwater fish a couple of pounds or more in weight, and good angling is obtainable. Captain McNeil caught a nice basketful or two with rod and line by whipping down stream in the true Devonshire style. One of the fish he captured would weigh nearly two pounds, and had a sharp spined dorsal fin like an English perch. Mr. Cowie maintains that he has seen real spotted trout taken out of this water; but I think some other kind must be meant, although the water is quite pure enough for that gentlemanly little fish.
From what I have written it will be seen that although Sulu cannot now afford elephant or tiger hunting like Malacca, India, or Ceylon, there is plenty of sport obtainable here nevertheless; indeed there are few countries eastward where better hunting, shooting, and rod-fishing can be obtained. Sulu as seen from a distance on board a ship out at sea, appears to be nearly all under cultivation; but on riding into the interior a good deal of uncultivated land and jungle is seen. The jungle portion has mostly been under cultivation in former years, and is now lying fallow previous to its vegetation being again cleared off by fire ready for the rude plough-culture here adopted. As approached from the westward the island is really very picturesque, two or three of its peaks rising from two to three thousand feet above sea level; these are separated from the coast by gentle undulating hills or flattish plains. One or two of the high hills are quite denuded of the old forest, and cultivation extends to their summits. The two highest peaks, however, are still clothed with the forest primæval, and it was these two that I so much wished to explore. The highest is Bu’at Timantangis, or “Hill of Tears.”