Ran away from the Dutch

by M. T. H. Perelaer

A sigh of relief escaped the breast of Johannes, who had looked upon the scene with a throbbing heart. It was now hurriedly arranged that the Europeans should still preserve their disguise before the others of the band, reserving the narration of their history for some future time.

All now turned their attention to the condition of Schlickeisen. Harimaoung Boekit informed his companions that he was in no danger from his wounds. He had only been tattooed. This proved to have really been the case. When the inflammation subsided Schlickeisen related all that had befallen him. After the disappearance of his company up the rock, he and the four [[328]]wounded Dayaks had been overtaken by a troop of Doessonese coming down the river. They had suddenly appeared and their attack had been so wholly unexpected, that before the Dayaks could defend themselves they were decapitated. Schlickeisen owed his escape from the same fate to the fact that while struggling his jacket became torn and discovered his white skin. His assailants exclaiming “Olo bapoeti!” threw themselves upon him, pinioned and led him away prisoner. He heard his captors speak of carrying him to Soerapatti, who would deliver him up to the government at Bandjermasin, in the hope of thus securing a peaceable footing with the Dutch. Naturally they had no idea that their prisoner was a deserter from the Dutch army. But the proposal to spare this prisoner—a white man; the thought that so valuable a skull should escape them, almost infuriated these wild savages, until by way of a joke, some wag suggested that they should tattoo him and then offer the Dutch government a tattooed white face. One of the company then produced a pantoek, or needle, and immediately commenced to prick small wounds on the skin of the captive, designing the usual fantastic figures. These punctures were made by placing the point of the needle in the skin, forcing it in by gentle taps. The wounds were then washed with hot water to produce a copious hæmorrhage, and afterwards with melon juice, an application which made the patient roar with agony. When the wounds became swollen and inflamed they were smeared with a thick solution of indigo. The sufferer was then left in the most agonizing pain, exposed to the full force of the sun’s heat without any covering. He suffered terrible thirst, yet no one offered [[329]]him a drop of water. A febrile condition necessarily ensued, rendering him wholly insensible. Thus had he lain the whole night until frightened out of his lethargy by a succession of rifle shots. He had then called aloud for help, but tortured by the most excruciating agony he had again lost consciousness. When recovered from this insensibility it was to find himself surrounded by his friends.

“You have escaped through the eye of a needle,” said La Cueille, “but it is a pity that those fellows did not paint you all the way down. You would have looked very much like wall paper; just like that Poenan over there. How handsome you would have been? Ah, won’t the young ladies of Switzerland admire you!”

The sufferer smiled feebly at this remark. His friends renewed the cold applications, and presently he fell into a sound sleep from which he did not awake until the rangkan arrived at Oepon Batoe. He now felt so much refreshed that he was able to step ashore without assistance. The punctures were still somewhat painful, but the inflammation had totally subsided and there was no sign of fever. The circles and lines on his body remained, however, a fixed picture for the remainder of his life.

After a short interview with their women and children the party prepared for the resumption of their journey, and before the evening had set in they were all under way.

Forty-eight hours afterwards the fleet of our fugitives was lying moored to the pier of kotta Rangan Hanoengoh, and the travellers stepped on shore. The journey would have been accomplished much more quickly if their passage along soengei [[330]]Miri had not assumed the character of a real triumphal procession. Our friends had been compelled by the natives to make frequent delays. Everywhere they were received with the greatest enthusiasm. The number who pressed around La Cueille to admire the man who made mountains vomit fire, was at times so great as to endanger the modesty of the Walloon.

Shortly after their arrival Wienersdorf had an interview with Harimaoung Boekit, during which he related his whole history; explaining also the causes which had driven him and his companions to desert from Kwala Kapoeas. It was thereupon determined that the whitefaces should still keep their nationality a strict secret, the Poenan chief declaring that the value of European skulls in these regions was too high to justify their risking the consequences of a disclosure. They then proceeded to converse about the proposed marriage, which Harimaoung now wished to see concluded. True, he had discovered that the man was a whiteface! But had he not drunk that man’s blood? Were they not now brothers? Aye, the whiteface had saved his life more than once, and he was bound to him by a sacred tie. He finally determined to refer the matter to his sister and to suffer her to decide. Hamadoe at once declared that she loved the European and was ready to follow him wherever he went, prepared to share his weal and his woe. Harimaoung’s only answer was to draw the devoted girl into his arms to kiss her passionately in endorsement of her decision.

It was now arranged that the marriage should take place as soon as possible in order that the Europeans should prosecute their journey to the north without delay. But the ceremony [[331]]could only take place at new moon, and that phase of lunation had just been passed. Thus five-and-twenty days would elapse ere the ceremony could take place. That time would, however, give full opportunity for preparations on the grandest possible scale.

La Cueille’s projected marriage was abandoned, the young lady objecting to leave her tribe and kindred forever to follow her husband to his distant home. That was requiring from her too great a sacrifice, especially after the appearance of another swain. A celebrated head-hunter presented himself to the capricious damsel. Besides his hand and heart he offered a magnificent string of skulls, and she at once accepted him, vice La Cueille—deposed.

When the Walloon heard of his deposition, he bethought him of the words of a French king well acquainted with female fickleness, and thus gave expression to his feelings: “Souvent femme varie, bien fou qui s’y fie.”