On the Equator

by Harry De Windt

We left Kuching on the 4th of June for Matang, intending to make the ascent of Sorapi, the highest peak of the Matang range. The tide not serving further, Santubong was to be our resting-place that night, and we were to proceed on our journey early the following morning. Matang, though only eight miles from Kuching in a straight line, is fully thirty by river, the stream which runs past the landing-place at Matang having its outlet at Santubong. It was once intended by the Sarawak Government to make a road from Kuching to the mountain, but on being surveyed the intermediate country was found to contain a deep swamp four miles across, so the project was abandoned.

Our craft on this occasion was pulled by a crew of six men, and, though small, was, thanks to Mr. H. (who accompanied us), replete with every comfort. On our way down river, H. pointed us out his crew with pride as being all prisoners, who, although he never took a gaoler with him, had never once taken advantage of him for three years, during which time he had made several trips.

Three of these men were in for murder, and H.'s own body-servant, who cooked our meals, waited on us. He was working out a sentence of fifteen years for the murder of a Chinaman, whose head he had one day conceived a desire to possess, which desire he had promptly gratified! This man was a "Kayan," a tribe inhabiting the interior of Borneo, of whom more anon.

By six o'clock that evening we were at Santubong, and cast anchor a short distance from the shore, but were soon left high and dry on the sands by the receding tide. Stepping on to the beach, L. and I set out for a stroll on the sea-shore and a dip in the sea before dinner, leaving H. to superintend the culinary operations in the boat. He warned us ere we started to beware, when bathing, of sharks and alligators, which swarm here.

There has ever been something most repulsive to me about the latter, who, when they have seized their prey, human or otherwise, do not at once devour it, but stow it away in their nests under water for two or three days until the flesh becomes decomposed, when they return to their hideous meal. Alligators do not attain a very large size in Borneo, ranging from 10 to 15 feet long only. The offer by the Sarawak Government of 30 cents, per foot, when captured, has greatly decreased their number in most of the rivers. An amusing anecdote is told of an enterprising Malay fisherman, who, when these rewards were first offered, established a "farm" at the mouth of one of the rivers, killing them when they grew to their full size, and claiming the money for their capture. This did not last long, however, and the "wily Oriental's" ingenuity was nipped in the bud by a punishment that has deterred other natives from following his bad example. It is a curious fact that the eggs of alligators are invariably found in the following numbers—11, 22, 33, 44, 55, 66, &c.

The following story, which, had it not been told me by the Resident of the district wherein it had occurred, and published in the Gazette, I should have greatly doubted, may interest the reader:—

Two Malay children, the elder a girl, aged seven and four years, were playing at low tide on a mud bank close to their dwelling, and some 15 yards from the water, when an alligator, which had advanced unperceived, seized the younger, and was making for the water with the child in its jaws. The little girl, on seeing this, had the presence of mind to leap on the animal's back and plunge her fingers into its eyes, when it instantly dropped the child unhurt, and made off into the river.

We enjoyed a cool and refreshing dip in the sea, and it was almost dark ere we left the water to return to the boat. A light was placed in her little cabin, which shone like a firefly over the sands, giving promise of good things within, to which we were shortly doing justice, in the shape of an excellent fowl curry (prepared by the murderer), washed down by a bottle of claret cool and fresh from the spring on shore, where it had been placed on arrival. The night was beautiful and starlight, and, our repast over, the awning was removed, and we sat out enjoying our cigars in the cool night breeze blowing in fresh and strong from the sea. The quiet ripple of the waves as they broke on the sandy beach had a soothing effect very favourable to reflection (and baccy), and the lights of the little fishing village twinkling at the foot of the black and rugged peak of Santubong—which rose to a height of 1,500 feet above our heads, and behind which the moon was just rising—presented a fine and uncommon picture.

But, alas! our enjoyment, like many others in this world, was of short duration, and received a severe shock from a sudden exclamation by H. of "By Jove! we have forgotten mosquito curtains! We shall be eaten alive!" It was too true. In the hurry of departure, and forgetting that we were to pass a night at the mouth, we had left them behind, knowing that on Matang mosquitoes are unknown. There was no help for it, however, and, our cigars finished, we turned in with a foreboding that sleep that night was not for us. Nor were we wrong in our conjecture, for no sooner were we wrapped in our blankets, and the lights out, than the enemy, mosquitoes and sandflies—for the latter of which Santubong is famous—attacked us in myriads. We eventually gave it up as a bad job about eleven p.m., lit our lamps, and waited for daylight, when the cold land breeze came and dispersed these pests, leaving us a couple of hours' sleep ere we should start with the morning tide.

The morning was bright and sunny, and, starting at seven, we were entering the Matang stream which runs past the Bungalow landing-stage at eleven o'clock a.m. Our destination was reached at one p.m., and, loading our amiable crew with baggage and provisions, we started off up the mountain for the bungalow, which was reached, after a rather severe climb, at three o'clock.