The coast line between Baram and Brunei is very pretty. As we approach the capital, the interminable jungle gives way to grassy hills, with a park-like distribution of timber. Curling wreaths of smoke rising from the shaded valleys, told us that the inhabitants were numerous. In the far distance we could see the great mountain of Molu, the loftiest known, except Kina Balu: the latter was visible to-day, although about 120 miles off; it looked like a huge table mountain rising from the sea, all intervening ground being lost in the distance.
We reached Labuan the day before the Queen’s birthday, in time to be present at the official dinner given by Governor Scott. I shall take another opportunity to notice this island.
We heard on our arrival that Mr. Low, the Colonial treasurer, had made an attempt to reach the summit of Kina Balu. It was generally said he had failed; but many years after, I was able to prove that he had reached to within a few hundred feet of the very highest peaks.
After some days’ stay to coal, we started for the capital, which lies about thirty-three miles to the S.S.W. The bay opposite Labuan is one of the most striking on the coast. The mountains commence within a few miles of the shore, and tower in successive ranges to Brayong, and Si Guntang, about 8,000 feet in height.
By naval men this is called Thunder-and-Lightning Bay, and it well deserves the name, as scarcely a day passes without some heavy squall sweeping down from the mountains, while the brightest lightning flashes, and the thunder rolls and re-echoes among the hills.
The entrance to the inner bay, into which so many rivers pour their waters, is five fathoms, and with a little care as to the known marks, of easy entrance. To the right is the low island of Muara, reputed deadly; but I have stayed there many times, and none of my people suffered. Keeping along the southern shore of the island, the channel is reached, and as we approach the true entrance of the Brunei river the scenery becomes lovely.
To the right is the island of Iñgaran, with its remains of Spanish batteries; to the left, picturesque Chermin. No ship of any size can enter the river, as eight feet at low water, and fourteen at high, is what the bar affords, which is also rendered more difficult by a long artificial dam of stones thrown across the stream in former times to prevent the approach of hostile squadrons. The water, however, has forced an angular passage to the right, through which vessels are obliged to pass. It is one of the worst rivers for commercial purposes in Borneo.
Beautiful hills rise sharply from the banks; some are wooded, with clumps of lofty palms pushing their way up through the jungle, while others are cleared, presenting swelling grassy summits and green slopes. Before us the honoured hill of Sei rises, and forms, as it were, an abrupt termination of the river. The Borneans take a pride in this hill that overshadows their town, although its elevation is but 700 feet.
Turning sharply to the right, we saw the first houses of the capital of Borneo, by the natives called Dar’u’salam, or the Abode of Peace, and which has been truly described as the “Venice of hovels.” The salt-water creek or river here expands to a small lake, and on mud-banks are the houses, built on the slenderest of piles—mere palms, that rot in three years. Slow, sluggish, and muddy, the water passes underneath, to leave, at ebb tide, exposed banks emitting the most offensive effluvia, which turns the gold and silver of uniforms to the colour of dirt.
As soon as we had anchored, the steamer was surrounded by a crowd of canoes, some so small as scarcely to float a child of five years of age—in fact, but a hollowed log. Mothers do not fear to trust their children in them, as they swim like fishes. It is a saying in Siam, that their children can do three things at a tender age—swim, smoke, and suck. I once saw a child at the breast, but with one eye fixed on his brothers paddling in the water; presently it gave a crow of delight, and leaving its mother’s arms, sprang into the river to enjoy the fun. He was not more than three years old.