DYAK VILLAGE.
The women of the north-east coast are by no means bad-looking, but very inferior to the mountain Dyaks before described. I have seen one or two faces which might be considered as pretty. With the exception of a cloth, which is secured above the hips with a hoop of rattan, and descends down to the knees, they expose every other portion of their bodies. Their hair, which is fine and black, generally falls down behind. Their feet are bare. Like the American squaws, they do all the drudgery, carry the water, and paddle the canoes. They generally fled at our approach, if we came unexpectedly. The best looking I ever saw was one we captured on the river Sakarron. She was in a dreadful fright, expecting every moment to be killed, probably taking it for granted that we had our head-houses to decorate as well as their husbands. While lying off the town of Baloongan, expecting hostilities to ensue, we observed that the women who came down to fill their bamboos with water were all armed.
And now to resume the narrative of our proceedings:—
I stated that after our interview with the old chief, and promising to return in the evening to witness a war dance, we proceeded on a stroll, accompanied by the chiefs eldest son, who acted as our guide, and followed by a large party of the natives. We first examined the forts: these were in a tolerable state of efficiency, but their gunpowder was coarse and bad. We next went over the naval arsenal, for being then at peace with every body, their prahus were hauled up under cover of sheds. One of them was a fine boat, about forty feet long, mounting a gun, and capable of containing forty or fifty men. She was very gaily decorated with paint and feathers, and had done good service on the Sakarron river in a late war. These war prahus have a flat strong roof, from which they fight, although they are wholly exposed to the spears and arrows of the enemy.
We then invaded their domestic privacy, by entering the houses, and proceeded to an inspection of the blacksmith's shop, where we found the chiefs youngest son, with his velvet jacket thrown aside, working away at a piece of iron, which he was fashioning into a pa-rang, or Dyak knife. The Dyak pa-rang has been confounded with the Malay kris, but they differ materially. The Dyaks, I believe, seldom use the kris, and the Malays never use the knife; and I observed, when we visited the south coast of Borneo, that the knife and other arms of the tribes inhabiting this portion, were precisely similar to those of the Dyaks on the northern coast. Customs so universal and so strictly adhered to proves not only individuality, but antiquity. Having examined every thing and every body, we were pretty well tired, and were not sorry that the hour had now arrived at which we were again to repair to the house of the rajah.
On our arrival we found the rajah where we left him, and all the chief men and warriors assembled. Refreshments had been prepared for us, and we again swallowed various mysterious confections, which, as I before observed, would have been very good if we had been hungry. As soon as the eatables had been despatched, we lighted our cheroots, and having, by a dexterous and unperceived application out of a brandy bottle, succeeded in changing the rajah's lemonade into excellent punch, we smoked and drank until the rajah requested to know if we were ready to witness the promised war dance. Having expressed our wishes in the affirmative, the music struck up; it consisted of gongs and tom-toms. The Malay gong, which the Dyaks also make use of, is like the Javanese, thick with a broad rim, and very different from the gong of the Chinese. Instead of the clanging noise of the latter, it gives out a muffled sound of a deep tone. The gong and tom-tom are used by the Dyaks and Malays in war, and for signals at night, and the Dyaks procure them from the Malays. I said that the music struck up, for, rude as the instruments were, they modulate the sound, and keep time so admirably, that it was any thing but inharmonious.
A space was now cleared in the centre of the house, and two of the oldest warriors stepped into it. They were dressed in turbans, long loose jackets, sashes round their waists descending to their feet, and small bells were attached to their ankles. They commenced by first shaking hands with the rajah, and then with all the Europeans present, thereby giving us to understand, as was explained to us, that the dance was to be considered only as a spectacle, and not to be taken in its literal sense, as preparatory to an attack upon us, a view of the case in which we fully coincided with them.
