The ivory of Bornean commerce is generally procured from the dead bodies found in the forests, but there is now living, one man who drives a profitable trade in fresh ivory. He sallies out on dark nights, with simply a waistcloth and a short, sharp spear: he crawls up to a herd of elephants, and selecting a large one, drives his spear into the animal’s belly. In a moment, the whole herd is on the move, frightened by the bellowing of their wounded companion, who rushes to and fro, until the panic spreads, and they tear headlong through the jungle, crushing before them all smaller vegetation. The hunter’s peril at that moment is great, but fortune has favoured him yet, as he has escaped being trampled to death.
In the morning he follows the traces of the herd, and, carefully examining the soil, detects the spots of blood that have fallen from the wounded elephant. He often finds him, so weakened by loss of blood as to be unable to keep up with the rest of the herd, and a new wound is soon inflicted. Patiently pursuing this practice, the hunter has secured many of these princes of the forest.
One can easily understand how startled a man unused to an animal larger than a pony would feel on suddenly finding himself face to face with a huge elephant. My favourite follower, Musa, has often made his audience laugh by an account of the feelings he experienced, when, pulling up the great river of Kina Batañgan, he steered close in-shore to avoid the strength of the current, and, looking up to find what was moving near, saw a noble tusked elephant above him, with his proboscis stretched over the boat to pick fruit beyond—“The paddle dropped from my hand, life left me, but the canoe drifted back out of danger.”
The banks of the Baram gradually became higher, and topped by neat farm-houses, increased in beauty; but I think the first view of the Kayan town of Lañgusin was one of the most picturesque I have ever witnessed. Long houses, built on lofty posts, on hills of various heights, yet appearing to be clustered together, while near were numerous little rice stores, neatly whitewashed. I never saw a prettier-looking place. We steered on, until we reached a long village-house, still building, opposite which we anchored. Crowds immediately assembled on the banks, and the Bornean traders came off to give and receive news.
The chief, Tamawan, now sent to know how the salutes were to be arranged, and we agreed that as usual we should salute his flag first, and that he should return it. We were rather surprised to find an English ensign hoisted, but he had received it from a trader, and said he would never change it, as it showed his good feeling towards us.
Among the guns fired was the pivot 32-pounder, and the sound echoed and re-echoed among the neighbouring hills, startling the whole population, who had never before heard anything louder than a brass swivel. The salute was returned by an irregular firing, that continued for about an hour—the greater number of guns the greater honour.
My Malay followers were very desirous that I should show the utmost dignity, and require the chiefs of the river to make the first visit; but on that I declined insisting, and left it to the Kayans to settle; and, thinking it would show more confidence, I went on shore while these preliminaries were discussing, and walked to the spot where all the principal men were assembled under a temporary shed. Two chairs and two boxes covered with English rugs were arranged at one end. Before taking my seat, I shook hands with all around. This was a formal meeting, and I explained to them the object of our coming, which was to cement the friendship of the English with the Kayans. Having just arrived from the Kanowit, I was enabled to give them some intelligence from their friends and relations. In fact, I found Kum Nipa’s son here, and also Diñgun, Belabun’s brother, and I had the unpleasant task of informing them that small-pox had broken out on the Rejang, and was committing fearful ravages. I did not tell the latter of the death of his younger brother by Kayan hands, as it might prove disagreeable to be informed of it publicly.
I did not stay long, as they appeared to be uneasy, but with general assurances of friendship left them.
It is difficult to describe the outward appearance of these people, and say anything different from what I have already said in describing the Sea Dayaks. They are much like the Sakarangs, except that they are slightly tatooed with a few stars and other marks; however, I have not as yet seen much of them.
Along the banks of the river, we observed many Kayan graves: the body is wrapped up, enclosed within a hollowed coffin, and raised on two thick, carved posts, with roughly carved woodwork extending out from each corner, like those seen on the roofs of Budhist temples. In one they put so many goods that the Bornean traders were tempted to rob them; and had not the Kayans discovered who were the culprits, the rest would have suffered heavily. The Bornean thieves escaped, but they and all their connections are for ever precluded from trading with this district.