It was pleasant to leave the perpetual mud flat of the Samarahan and get into this branch, where occasionally rocks, and banks overshadowed by the enormous trees of the old forest, with glimpses of hills and distant mountains, varied the scene. The Samarahan, though not a very picturesque river, would afford great satisfaction to any one who contemplated sugar plantations. The soil is of the richest description, and, from the existing cultivation, we may infer what it would become in the hands of able Chinese agriculturists. These Malays neither use the spade, the hoe, nor the plough, but simply stir the soil with a pointed stick, or with their iron choppers.
At the landing-place we met a party of Sadong and Bukar Dayaks, who shouldered our baggage; we then started on our way to Munggu Babi. The path at first was detestable—the worst of paths, over slippery trunks and branches of huge trees lying scattered over the sites of their old rice farms, very perilous, as the slightest slip endangered the safety of a limb. To the bare-footed Dayak it is nothing, but shoes render it unpleasant; however, it soon changed into the ordinary style; and getting rapidly over about four miles, we arrived at the foot of the hill on which the houses are built. They were entirely hidden by fruit-trees. Beyond rose the mountains of Sadong, which can be seen from the decks of the ships that pass along the coast. At the foot of Munggu Babi flowed a delightful stream into which we plunged to dispel some little fatigue arising from the heat. Our Dayak attendants had pushed on with our baggage, and being now refreshed we began climbing the steep that separated us from the houses; no sooner was this observed, than every available brass wall-piece was fired in our honour, and it was under this salute that we entered the village.
It is an illustration of the state of insecurity in which these people formerly lived, and which is still vivid in their imagination, that when those who were returning from their farms heard the guns fired, they hid themselves in the forest, thinking their homes were surrounded by enemies; and it was not until the gongs beat out joyful sounds that they were reassured and returned to their abodes.
The village is, as I have said, situated on the summit of a little hill covered with every kind of fruit-tree; and was, the Bukars say, named Munggu Babi, from the innumerable wild pigs that used to swarm upon it, very well represented at the present day by their civilized brethren. The first house is the Pangga or head-house, lately erected, very comfortable, in which we took up our lodgings; a rough sort of street beyond it, lined with very old-looking houses, rising one above the other with the slope of the hill until the village was completed by two more head-houses.
We appeared to be very welcome guests, and were soon surrounded by the elders of the tribe and by crowds of young men. We were the second party of white visitors who had slept at this place, but the first probably who travelled in European style, and as usual our proceedings excited much curiosity. Just as dinner was over, we heard the pleasing announcement that a Sambas Malay, who lived among the Dayaks, had shot a fine buck which he very obligingly presented to us. No one who has not lived principally on ducks and fowls for many years can appreciate the importance of such an event. We agreed to visit the famous caves of Sirih the next day, and in the evening to have a search for deer. They are represented as very numerous, as the Bukars do not eat their flesh,—a fortunate event for their visitors, but not for themselves, as they are thus deprived of good and easily-acquired food.
Up early, and after a hearty breakfast of deer-steaks, started for the caves of Sirih. We passed up the street that runs through the centre of the village, the houses looking very dilapidated in comparison with those of the Sibuyau Dayaks, but all were swarming with children. An abrupt descent brought us to a lower part of the stream that runs at the foot of Munggu Babi, affording beautifully clear water for the villagers. Continuing our course over the low buttress of the Sadong mountains, where the Dayaks have enclosed several spots for gardens, we had a beautiful prospect of the surrounding country, better seen however from the heights above, which we intended passing over the next day. Two miles’ walk through old farms and fresh felled jungle brought us to the foot of a very steep hill in which the cave was situated. Clambering up the rocks for a couple of hundred feet, we suddenly found ourselves at the mouth of the cave. The entrance is peculiar: divided formerly into three, the fall of a pillar has united two of the openings into one, which is above thirty feet in breadth; at first there appeared no far interior, but to the left a descending passage led into the great cave. To the right was a separate apartment with a fine opening, forming the first division of the mouth, but inaccessible from the outside. The Dayak boys beckoned us to come in. We went, thinking they wished us to look out from thence on the beautiful valley below and the lofty mountain beyond it; but our surprise was great when they pointed into a deep hole where lay the skeleton of a human being.
Among the guides who were with us was a resolute but very good-tempered looking Sarawak man, and as he was standing near we asked him to explain the cause of those bones being there. He answered very quietly, “It is only a Dayak that I shot many years ago.” We asked him to explain, which he did without any hesitation. Some years before these districts came under Sir James Brooke’s influence, a chief named Bandhar Kasim ruled over the Sadong province; he was a very harsh man and oppressed the Dayak more than was usually the case among the neighbouring chiefs. One tribe on the right-hand branch of the Sadong had suffered very severely from his exactions. They only murmured when he took their goods: when he demanded their children they refused to give them up, and flying to the Sirih caves threw up a barricade across the entrance. This example he thought might prove contagious among the neighbouring tribes, so he determined to attack them; besides he was delighted with the opportunity of acquiring slaves, as every one he captured would be reduced to that state. By promising to divide the booty and the captives he soon collected a force of three hundred men, many with fire-arms. These marched boldly to the attack, but being received with a shower of heavy stones and rolling rocks quickly withdrew to an open space, a little grass spot which the narrator pointed out to us. There being none present who appeared willing to expose his life for the sake of Bandhar Kasim, the whole affair seemed likely to terminate in a distant but harmless fire being kept up at the entrance of the cave. At last Bandhar Kasim cried out, “I will give a slave to any man who will drive those devils from their position.” The Sarawak man instantly volunteered, if the others would support him. Plunging into the jungle he reached the foot of the hill, and by dint of strength and activity, contrived to climb the almost perpendicular side of the mountain, and reach a spot above the cave, from whence he came down until he could look well over the barricade. The descent was now very dangerous, but he prepared for it. The first Dayak who showed himself he shot through the body; then throwing away his gun and taking advantage of the confusion caused by the fall of their companion, he boldly swung himself down the rocks, and sprang in among the astonished Dayaks crying, “Who is brave enough to fight me?” The unfortunate wretches, thinking he must be well backed, fled into the cave and were soon pursued by Bandhar Kasim’s followers: two were killed and seven taken prisoners; the rest escaped, as the cave extends quite through the mountain.
While we were listening to this story, the Dayaks had prepared dried sticks of a resinous wood by splitting one end until it had the appearance of a brush; they were tolerable substitutes for torches. We followed our guides down the narrow passage that leads into the interior cave. They walked with the greatest care, examining the ground before they placed a foot ahead, knowing that the men who now collect the edible birds’ nests here often place sharp pointed pieces of bamboo sticking up in the path to punish unwary interlopers. The cave gradually became broader and more lofty, and our slight torches could scarcely pierce the gloom that hung thickly around us.
As we advanced the form of the cave varied but slightly, until we reached a spot where we had to pass through a sort of opening, like some of those diminutive doors occasionally seen in odd nooks of old cathedrals. Here we found ourselves in a small chamber that appeared for a moment the termination of our walk, but in the right corner was a narrow descending interstice in the rock, through which we could just squeeze our bodies to find ourselves again in the lofty cave. The gentle fall of water told of the neighbourhood of a stream, which now and then became our path. The Dayaks say that there are fish that see not, in the dark pool, which may at times be observed, particularly under the rocks.
We soon arrived at a sloping surface over which the water spread, rendering it difficult to prevent our feet from gliding from under us. This I gladly climbed, as we had been informed that during a heavy shower of rain the water would suddenly rise to such a height in the depressed portion of the cave we had just passed, that all non-swimmers would be drowned. The walking now became often unpleasant; slippery mud and no less slippery rock; the ascents and descents were very abrupt, and occasionally we passed a deep chasm where a slip might be fatal.