I shot two of the beautiful white island pigeon (Carpophaga bicolor), called “Pragam pulo” by the natives, and a larger species, of an ash colour (C. ænea), the wings and neck being shot with purple and bronze tints. This is a very large and handsome bird, common in Borneo, and when cooked, is very good eating. On my return to the tent I found the man from the coast had brought over his boat, as promised, and I at once sent it off, with eleven of my men, with a letter to Mr. A. Boosie, the manager of the coal mines in Labuan, asking him to lend me one of his boats, in which to continue my journey.
It is a lovely day to-day, and our rice and clothes are getting dry again. “Kimjeck,” after he had done his work this morning, started off on a collecting excursion, and has just returned, with a couple of broad-tailed, dusky-coloured rock-snakes, one a very fine specimen. Beetles and butterflies, he tells me, are alike unobtainable, and he can find no flowers, so that we can do no collecting on the island. Knowing that it will be night at the earliest ere our own men can possibly return with the boat, I and Smith went over to Lumbedan with some natives, who had come in a boat to look at us, and had a walk in the tall forest, which forms a back-ground to the houses near the shore. Here we found the “nebong” palm attaining to a large size; and some woodcutters promised to cut us a few young tops by the time of our return.
This forest, although originally rich in plants, like that of Labuan, has suffered severely during recent years from the now ever recurring jungle-fires of the dry monsoon. We could find nothing of interest. A large-leaved crinum grows in the sand by the shore; and a scarlet-flowered ixora with narrow foliage, was blooming here and there in patches. We shot a long-tailed paroquet, and a blue kingfisher, the only birds we saw, and retraced our steps to the village just before sunset. We were thoroughly tired, and rested here some time, watching the young Kadyans playing at football on the beach. The players stand in a circle, three or four yards in diameter, and the ball is kicked in the air by the player to whom it falls nearest. To do this properly requires great dexterity, as the ball is struck with the sole of the foot; and a party of good players will thus keep a ball in the air for several minutes by each kicking it upwards just as it is about to fall. The ball itself is a light hollow one, of rattan open-work, about the size of an ordinary cricket-ball; and the game closely resembles shuttlecock, as played in China.
Having obtained our palm-tops, we purchased some eggs, cucumbers, and fine ripe water-melons from the woodcutters, whom we had passed in the forest in the morning, and then waded across to our quarters on the island, which we could now do, as it was low water. It was becoming dusk, and we were glad to throw ourselves down on our rugs, and rest a little before we ate our frugal repast. During our absence my “boy” has “tidied up” the tent, and it now looks quite cosy and comfortable, being dry and sheltered, although on two sides the sea washes up to within a few feet of us at high water. The soft yellow mats are pleasantly enlivened with our rugs and scarlet blankets, the rifle-barrels glisten above our heads, and the smoke curls gracefully upwards from our cooking-fires on the beach. Just as it was dark we heard our men shouting; and soon after six of them came in with the borrowed prahu, and told us that their companions were following them in the large boat, which Mr. Boosie had kindly lent to us. This was good news; and we ate our dinner in high spirits. In about an hour’s time the men came in with the boat, and we hauled her up high and dry on the sandy shore before retiring for the night. With the boat I was cheered by letters from several of my friends in Labuan, all of whom were sorry to hear of our disaster.
August 2nd.—A lovely morning. We were up before daybreak, and soon had our boat launched, and all our goods and stores safely stowed away, ready for starting. About seven o’clock we got away, with a good breeze behind us, and then we took our breakfast in a little deck-cabin, which our men had cleverly rigged up for us with a few crooked sticks, tied firmly with rattans, and covered with kajang mats, thus forming a capital shelter from sun and rain. Not feeling very well, I lay down, and fell asleep, but was soon awakened by a consternation among the men, and much shouting. A refractory fish was the cause of all the noise, the steersman having hooked him; but the fish was large, and objected to come on board. After much trouble they hauled in their capture, and a fine fellow it was, fully thirty pounds weight.
We were very comfortable in our new craft, which sailed well; and although the wind slackened considerably about noon, we reached Pulo Tiga before sunset, and went ashore to cook our dinner and lay in a fresh stock of firewood and water. Half-a-dozen fires were soon alight, and we took our guns, and went for a walk, but failed to get a shot. We caught sight of some large hornbills; they were, however, too wary to allow us within range.
This island is a large one, without any inhabitants, except now and then a few Chinese woodcutters, or native fishermen. Native boats from Sulu or Palawan frequently call for wood and water; and the remains of numerous fires occur among the drift wood along the beach. Wild pigs are very plentiful, and turtle are also found here. From a distance the island is seen to consist of three rounded hills, covered with forest; hence its native name “tiga,” or “teega,” signifying three in the Malay language. We returned to dinner with hearty appetites, and thoroughly enjoyed a portion of the fish we had captured in the morning. My “boy,” who acted as cook, had forgotten to inquire how he should prepare it; and so, to make sure, he had divided our share, boiling one-half, and the other he cleverly roasted over the clean embers of a wood-fire.
Hungry as we were, salmon from an Irish stream, cooked fresh over a fire of strawberry-tree wood (Arbutus), could not have tasted more delicious. The wind had now completely died away, and the current setting in strong against us, we anchored in a sheltered bay until the morning.
August 3rd.—Awoke about three A.M., and finding a fresh breeze springing up, we aroused our men, and got up sail. In about an hour, however, the wind dropped, and the men had to take to their paddles. We had a nice view of the coast just after sunrise, and we also saw Kina Balu very distinctly. We had changeable winds all day, but managed to reach Gaya Bay about five o’clock; and, as wind and current were now against us, and the men were tired with paddling most of the day, we went ashore on one of the islands to cook, and resolved to remain here all night, or until a favourable breeze sprang up, which we might expect at any time after sunset. Here, as at Pulo Tiga, the beach is sandy, and is fringed with tall casuarina trees, through which the winds sigh as mournfully as they do through the leaves of a pine forest here at home.
The broad-leaved pandan (Pandanus dubius) is common here, having a tall, cylindrical trunk, like a cocoa-nut palm, and bearing a branched crown of dark-green leaves. Here also we could obtain plenty of nebong tops; and on waste patches, near the shore, Tacca pinnatifida grew abundantly. This plant is interesting, as affording a kind of starch, much used as food by the South Sea Islanders, but not valued here, where rice is plentiful. Here we found plenty of the large blue pigeon; and although they were very wild, we managed to shoot two or three; and these, with the fresh palm-tops, were a great gain to our culinary department.