Visit to the Left-hand Branch of the Sarawak River—Attack of Peguans—Sarawak River—Capture of English Ship—The Durian Fruit—Iron-wood Posts—Rapids—Rapid of the Corpse—Mountains—Village of San Pro—Lovely Scenery—Head-house—Cave—Upper Cave—Unfortunate Boast—Pushing up the Rapids—Story of the Datu Tamanggong—Invulnerable Men—How to become one—Grung Landing-place—Sibungoh Dayaks—Dayak Canoes—Lovely Scenery—Uses of the Bambu—Fish—Sharks in the Upper Waters—Repartee—Pigs Swimming—Farmhouses in Trees—Floods—Suspension Bridges—Chinese Traders—Dress of Land Dayaks—System of Forced Trade—Interesting Tribe—Story of the Murder of Pa Mua—The Trial—Painful Scene—Delightful Bathing—Passing the Rapids—Walk to Grung—Dayak Paths—Village of Grung—Warm Reception—Ceremonies—Lingua Franca—Peculiar Medicine—Prayer—Sacred Dance—Sprinkling Blood—Effect of former System of Government—Language.
I had already made many visits among the Dayaks, but had never penetrated to the interior waters of the Sarawak river. I was, therefore, quite ready to accept Captain Brooke’s invitation to accompany him on the tour of inspection he was about to make among the Land Dayaks of the left-hand branch of the Sarawak. As the stream is full of rapids, our crew was selected of Sarawak men, well acquainted with the peculiar navigation. I may here remark that there is something characteristic about the true Sarawak man: his look is eminently respectable, his face is longer and more marked than that of the other Malays, his complexion often darker, his manners quiet and respectful. There is a tradition current in this country, that once upon a time, the capital of Sarawak was at Santubong, the western entrance of the river; that during the absence of the men on an expedition up the country, some marauding Peguans arrived there in their ships, and on finding the defenceless state of the town attacked it, carried it by assault, and made off with their spoils and innumerable female prisoners. The Sarawak men fortunately returned a few hours after, and instantly gave chase. Their fast war boats soon overtook the clumsy Pegu ships. They made short work of it: killed the marauding chiefs and brought back the rest prisoners to Santubong. The Samarahan and some of the Sarawak men are said to be descended from them, and this, if true, may account for the darker complexion.
The Sarawak river is not navigable for ships far above the town, though at the height of the flood a large vessel was once taken fifteen miles above it to a place called Ledah Tanah. This occurred some thirty years ago. A large English ship, laden with sugar, put into the mouth of the Sarawak river for water. The captain and mates were invited to meet the rajahs of the country. They went on shore, where they were informed that their vessel was too leaky to proceed on her voyage, but that they would be provided with a passage to Singapore in one of the native prahus. Resistance was useless. They were surrounded by hundreds of armed men, and were hurried off to sea immediately to be murdered at the first island. The Lascar crew were detained as slaves. Two of them were still alive when I first reached Sarawak. Many of the Malays have told me that sugar never was so plentiful in their houses either before or since. The banks of the river on either side continue low, and are adapted in their present state for rice cultivation, though with a little drainage, the Chinese can render the soil admirably suited for sugar-cane and other cultivations. It is a pretty but monotonous pull, the scenery being only occasionally varied by views of the surrounding mountains.
We passed the first night at Ledah Tanah, or Tongue of Land, the point of junction of the two branches of the river. Here the Rajah had a cattle farm, and a pretty cottage surrounded by fruit trees, principally of magnificent durians. This fruit is the subject of much controversy. It varies in size from a six to sixty-eight pounder shot, and looks like an enormous chestnut, with its prickly outer coating on. On opening this rough rind, we find five or six rows of seeds covered with a white or yellow pulpy substance, which tastes and smells like a custard strongly flavoured with onions, or, to those who delight in it, it is of a delicious and unapproachable flavour, and, when perfectly fresh, has a pleasing perfume. These different opinions are given at the same moment, by different persons describing the same fruit.
When the people abandoned Santubong, they retired to Ledah Tanah, where they established their town; the posts of some of their houses still remain, being of iron-wood, which may be said practically to last for ever.
We continued our course up the river, the character of the scenery becoming more interesting every moment. The stream narrows, the water is clearer, shallower, and its course is interrupted by rocks and large stones, over which the stream foams, dashes, breaks, rendering the passage dangerous for small boats; indeed, the name of one of these rapids, Rhium Bangkei—“The Rapid of the Corpse”—would seem to prove that fatal accidents do occur. The swamping of a boat, or the loss of goods, by inexperienced hands, is not rare.
The first mountain we passed was that of Stat, which, though not more than 1,500 feet high, is in many respects remarkable, rising abruptly from the low country, a real isolated peak that may be distinguished even out at sea; from one view it appears like the end of a bent finger. In common with most of the limestone mountains in Borneo, it presents bare, perpendicular surfaces, with jagged rocks at the edges, but surrounded by vegetation, and that vegetation growing where soil can scarcely be supposed to exist; in fact, the roots of the trees penetrate far into the inner portion of the mountain, through deep fissures and clefts. The other mountains visible during our progress to-day had the same general features, particularly the two which rise near the village of San Pro, where we intended to pass the night.
In our evening walk we were much struck with the remarkable beauty of this place; the two lofty and almost perpendicular mountains rise abruptly on either side of the river, leaving but a strip of land on the water’s edge. One called Sibayat towers above the village on the left bank; the other, Si Bigi, is on the opposite side; the river, now running through limestone, sparkles clear at their feet, undermining the rocks on either side, and forming fantastic little caves, crowned above with noble overhanging trees. Abrupt turns, short reaches, and pebbly beds added to the beauty of the scene, and, just as the last rays of the sun were gilding the summits of the twin peaks, we sat down on the huge trunk of a fallen tree, which the floods of the rainy season had swept down from the interior, and half buried in the sand and pebbles. There we remained till the shades of evening had completely closed in around us, speculating on the probable future of the country, and the words almost rose simultaneously to our lips—were we missionaries, we would fix our houses here. With my own idea of what a missionary should do, there could be no better spot than San Pro to commence operations. The village was not large, but it is better completely to gain over twenty families, than exhaust one’s energies merely skimming over the surface of a dozen tribes, leaving no permanent impression. We fixed on the best locality for a house, a trim garden, a diminutive church, and a school. It is a soil that would repay culture.
We were not fortunate in the time of our visit, as most of the people were away preparing their farms. We took up our residence in the head-house, which, however, was destitute of the usual ornaments. It was quite new. All head-houses have the same appearance, being built on high posts above the ground, and in a circular form, with a sharp conical roof. The windows are, in fact, a large portion of the roof, being raised up, like the lid of a desk, during fine weather, and supported by props; but when rain or night comes on, they are removed, and the whole appearance is snug in the extreme, particularly when a bright fire is lit in the centre, and throws a fitful glow on all the surrounding objects. Around the room are rough divans, on which the men usually sit or sleep, but that night, there being a cold wind and a drizzling rain, a good fire was kept up, and the people crowded near. I awoke at about two, and put my head out of my curtains to look at a night-scene: a dozen of the old men were there collected close over the fire, smoking the tobacco we had given them, and discoursing in a low tone about us. The flames occasionally shot up brilliantly and showed me the curious group, and then, as they faded away, nothing but the outlines of the half-naked old men could be seen cowering over the embers, as a ruder blast or a heavier shower brought the cold wind upon them.
Started early in the morning. The limestone rock, undermined in every direction, was worn into very singular shapes. Occasionally the tall trees, finding insufficient support, had broken from the bank, and slipped their roots into the river, to be completely washed away by next flood. At ten, brought up on a pebbly beach for breakfast, opposite a little cave, about which the Dayaks have as usual a story—this time an indelicate one. Continuing our course, we reached the mountain of Rumbang, remarkable for its curious caves. We had brought guides with us from San Pro, and stopping at the nearest point went ashore, and after a walk and climb of a few hundred yards, reached the entrance of the first cave. Descending over a few rough stones, we found ourselves in the interior, through which a small stream makes its way. Having lighted a candle and a torch, we advanced—now fording the brook, now jumping over it: the floor is principally pebbly, though occasionally we met with soft sand and slippery rock. The cave itself has no remarkable feature, but is nevertheless interesting. Its height varied between thirty, forty, and fifty feet—its exit beautiful in rugged feature in a soft light, which subdued the uncouth shapes of the rocks, and rendered them striking and pleasing to the eye. This we particularly noticed on our return, when we approached the entrance. Then the light played on the surface of the stream, as it bubbled onward in its course, and the reflection slightly illuminated the surrounding features, reminding me of a robber’s cave in a dissolving view.