Ran away from the Dutch

by M. T. H. Perelaer

When our travellers had finished their pleasant conversation about toeak, Johannes repeated all the information concerning [[77]]themselves and their movements which he had been obliged to give their late host. He had represented that they were on their way to the Upper Kapoeas, to trade with the Olo Ott; that Sheik Mohammed Al Mansoer was following them in order to inspect these regions, intending afterwards to return with a cargo of chintzes and prints; that the two Swiss were his servants and that Dalim and the other two Dayaks were hired as rowers for the whole of the journey. To this programme he suggested they should adhere whenever they met with strangers. It would not disturb their friendship, for Johannes was not the man to abuse the trust placed in him; while a thorough understanding would reign among them should they be respectively thrown upon their own resources.

Thus the midnight hours passed by, and at about one o’clock in the morning they reached the end of their journey for that day, the Kwala Mantangei. Long before they sighted the mouth of the stream they heard the tolling of the titih; and upon entering the soengei and approaching the dwellings built along its banks other sounds became audible which made them advance with caution.

From all sides shrieks of women and children were heard, indicating the greatest consternation. Several torch-lights were seen in the distance, and women wildly running in the direction of one of the houses, about which they congregated, uttering cries of terror. The boat was quickly hidden amongst the shrubs and Dalim landed to ascertain what was the cause of the prevailing alarm. The others remained on board, lost in conjecture as to the meaning of such a panic at such an hour. They all perceived [[78]]that something important was taking place and felt some fear that they had fallen upon a party of head-hunters. This anxiety, however, was soon removed by the reappearance of Dalim, who requested his companions to land and to bring their mandauws with them. La Cueille, as the boat could not be left to the care of itself, remained behind with one of the Dayaks. The others joined Dalim and they all crept forward in the direction of the torches, advancing under the cover of the shrubs, and presently came in sight of some thirty women and children, rushing about in the greatest fear. Upon approaching nearer they saw a gigantic snake more than thirty feet long and of the diameter of a man’s waist, wriggling about and displaying the most curious undulations without seeming to move from its place. It appeared as if chained within a circle. A closer inspection showed them that the snake had been caught and was attached to a rattan cable which the women had thrown around a tree. They had not dared, however, to pull the cable tight, so that the snake retained sufficient liberty to move in a large circle.

It was a boa constrictor of the largest size, and was twisting and turning about terribly, trying, alternately, to break either the cable or the tree. But its efforts were in vain. Its movements kept the women at a respectful distance; for none of them could muster sufficient courage to kill the reptile, although they all carried naked mandauws in their hands.

While our travellers stood looking on in silence, the boa again made a dart forward and grasped within its folds a little boy who had approached too near. The poor child groaned and [[79]]gurgled under this fatal embrace. The women uttered horrible yells, while the unfortunate mother of the child fell on her knees, threw up her arms, and implored the animal to loosen its hold and not hurt her darling.

Lifting the child high up in the air the snake made efforts to reach the tree. These failed at first, as the cable was not sufficiently supple. At last, however, it succeeded in grasping the trunk, which it encircled two or three times. Dalim, mandauw in hand, rushed forward through the group of yelling women; but before he could reach the boa, the crunching of broken bones was heard, mingled with a single shriek of the dying victim, who was flattened against the tree as if in a mill.

Dalim advanced undismayed toward the snake and aimed a blow at it without inflicting any injury. Perceiving its new antagonist the reptile rapidly unwound itself from the child, which fell lifeless to the ground, and attacking the Dayak, encircled him with those fatal living rings and compressed him with such force that he gasped for breath. It seemed as if his chest was being screwed together by an irresistible vise. In this desperate struggle for life he dealt several blows about him without definite aim. One of these unfortunately severed the cable and set the animal at liberty, when it coiled its tail round the trunk of the tree in order to crush the Dayak as it had crushed the child.

Dalim’s death would have been inevitable, had not Wienersdorf and Johannes advanced to his rescue. They threw themselves upon the boa and tried to divert its attention to them. The animal then unwound itself from Dalim and sprang at [[80]]Wienersdorf, biting him between his neck and shoulder. Johannes now cut and lacerated the snake so severely that it took flight and nearly succeeded in escaping, owing to the stupidity of the women. These, in the confusion which prevailed, had dropped their torches and left the party in complete darkness; but the time had come for Schlickeisen to act. He had also approached to Dalim’s assistance, but had paused in order to lift up the mangled child. Perceiving, however, that nothing could be done for it he turned his attention to the boa, now disappearing in the gloom. He suddenly passed the child over to its mother, lifted one of the yet glowing torches from the ground, and rushed after Johannes and the boa. A few well-aimed blows with his mandauw, dealt by a vigorous arm, soon decided the contest, the head of the snake being completely severed from the body and the once powerful reptile converted into a motionless mass.

The three Europeans now shook hands together over the body of the boa and congratulated each other on the result of this extraordinary contest. Dalim also approached and thanked them cordially. He assured his companions that as he owed his life to their timely aid they might henceforth confidently trust in him; he would accompany them as far as Singapore and remain with them until they could re-enter life as free men.

After the snake had been duly skinned, the women of the kampong told the travellers that their husbands were all absent gathering rosin. On the previous night an old woman had been awakened from her sleep by a sensation of pressure on her stomach; she stretched her hands out in the dark to ascertain the cause and felt a cold and clammy object which moved at [[81]]her touch. She jumped up at once, uttering horrible cries and shrieking for assistance. The neighbors were soon at hand, but the glimmer of their lamps showed them nothing but a black mass crawling along the floor and finally disappearing in the darkness. Upon entering the room in which the old woman had slept they found her husband killed by a wound under his lower ribs, large enough to receive a human head. The riddle was now solved. The kampong had been visited by a boa, an occurrence by no means frequent in these marshy regions. The women, not being able to consult their better-halves, had bethought them of setting a bait, in the shape of a live ape fastened to a hook—with the result of finding the boa caught on the following evening. Disturbed at his meal of the night before, his hunger remained unappeased and he was readily snared.