We rode at first over a small plain, about two miles in extent, half of which we had to traverse: it was bounded on either side by a low sandstone range, and before us was a connecting ridge, which we had to cross before entering the Tampasuk district. From its top, we had a view of the country: beneath us was a plain, extending some miles beyond the river; not very pleasant riding, as every here and there a slushy, muddy stream crossed the path, into which our ponies sunk up to their girths, and found some difficulty in floundering through. There were signs that cultivation is occasionally carried on here, and I should imagine it well adapted for rice fields. As it happened to be a very warm day, we were not sorry, after a ride of two miles and a half, to reach the river’s bank, where we found a most agreeable shade under gigantic mango trees. I call them gigantic—they were for this country, being above two feet in diameter, and probably sixty feet high. Unfortunately, it was not the fruit season. Very few mangoes in Borneo are worth eating. Occasionally we find them with delicate flavour; but nothing to equal the magnificent fruit of Bombay. I was anxious to taste the produce of these trees, as from former intercourse with the Spaniards the natives might have obtained seeds from Manilla, where the fruit arrives at great perfection. A half mile of shady ride brought us to the ford opposite to the Datu’s house, where we found the Tampasuk, a hundred yards wide, but not more than three feet deep—clear, cool, and rapid.
After enjoying a pleasant bathe, we strolled on for a hundred yards to the Datu’s house, which is really a good and comfortable one, and we were agreeably surprised at the excellent accommodation. It is double-storied, with plank walls. The lower part of the house consisted of one great room, surrounded by broad verandahs; the end ones being partially partitioned off. In one of these we were lodged, and found all the ladies of the family engaged in preparing our apartment and covering the floor with nice clean mats of brilliant colours, which, with our own bedding, soon made us comfortable. The great room, or hall, was the chief’s, in the centre of which was an immense resting-place or bed, and behind were heaps of boxes, containing the wealth of the family, piled as I had seen done in Sulu. The upper story appears to be reserved for the daughters and other unmarried girls, who, as their floor was only of split bamboo, could look through and watch all our movements; and the occasional light laughter showed that we afforded them some amusement.
The Datu of Tampasuk is considered the head of the Bajus in these districts, but his power is more nominal than real. The race is, individually, very independent, and no one appears ready to obey authority; and the same character may be given to their neighbours, the Lanuns and Ida’an. Mengkabong and Tampasuk are their chief ports, though they are scattered in many other districts, both on this and the north-eastern coast. They were formerly very piratical, and even now are unwilling to let a favourable opportunity pass. Their lawlessness is proverbial: one instance will suffice. A large party went on an expedition to the island of Banguey, where they anchored opposite a village, and commenced trading, being, they said, particularly anxious for tripang, or edible sea-slug. The fishermen dispersed in quest of this article, but had no sooner gone than the crews of the prahus landed, surprised the village, killed or drove away the few men that remained, and captured about twenty-eight women and children. This little incident was much talked of at the time, as they managed to seize a young bride, just decked out for a wedding, loaded with all the gold ornaments of the village. This young girl, contrary to their usual custom, was, it is said, put up to auction by her captors, as she was too valuable to be one man’s share. Yet both the people of Banguey and Mengkabong are claimed by the Brunei Government as their subjects. I have little doubt that, on hearing of this affair, the only reflection of the ministers was—“We wish those Mengkabong people were nearer, that we might have a share of the plunder.”
When not engaged in sea expeditions, the Bajus employ themselves in a peddling trade with the aborigines, exchanging nipa salt, with a little iron and cloth, for tobacco and rice; the former they sell to the Malays. I must not omit to notice that the Bajus are very expert fishermen, and catch and salt a great quantity every year, which they sell to the inhabitants of the hills. Some few have gardens, and plant rice, and, in a lazy, careless way, rear cattle, ponies, and buffaloes. They profess Islamism, but do not probably understand much beyond the outward observances, though they keep the fast with greater strictness than most of the Malays. No one can accuse the Bajus of being a handsome race; they have generally pinched-up, small faces, low foreheads, but bright eyes; the men are short, slight, but very active, particularly in the water; the women have similar features, and are slighter and perhaps taller than the Malay; they wear their hair tied in a knot on the fore part of the head, which has a very unbecoming appearance. I never saw a good-looking face among them, judging even by a Malay standard. The Datu had five daughters, as well as five sons—a large family, but a thing by no means rare in Borneo.
We saw many men that differed totally from the above description, but, on inquiry, found they were of mixed breed. I asked one of what race he was. He answered four—Baju, Lanun, Malay, and Chinese. He was a broad-faced, ugly-looking fellow, one of our guides. Another, rather good-looking, claimed to be descended of four races also—Baju, Sulu, Lanun, and Malay. Almost all those we asked were of mixed parentage, which renders it difficult to describe a particular tribe; yet the Baju is a distinct animal from the Malay, and does credit to his name of Sea Gipsy, as he has quite the appearance of that wandering tribe.
We heard much of their differences with the Lanuns, who occupy the mouth of the Tampasuk, and were formerly very powerful on this coast; their own oppressive conduct turned the people of the interior against them, and at Tawaran they were driven out. They were accused of stealing the children of the Ida’an. I say driven out—I should rather have said, teazed out. No people in this country can cope with them in battle; so the Ida’an kept hovering around the Lanun villages to cut off stragglers. At last, no one could leave the houses even to fetch firewood, unless accompanied by a strong armed party, which interfered so much with their piratical pursuits that they at last abandoned the country, and retired to Tampasuk and Pandasan. Here they were in 1845 attacked by Sir Thomas Cochrane, and their villages burnt. This again broke up their communities, and most of those who were addicted to piracy retired to the north-east coast, to Tungku and the neighbouring rivers. Since then they have gradually so dwindled away in these countries, that now, it is said, they scarcely muster two hundred fighting men. Even these are under various chiefs, who delight in giving themselves high-sounding names, as Sultan, Rajah, Rajah-Muda; though, perhaps, scarcely able to man a war prahu with their followers.
The present cause of quarrel between the Lanuns and Bajus is theft, mutual reprisals ending in the death of one of the latter. The Datu talked of nothing but war; he said he had been advised by the Spanish missionary, Signor Cuateron, to apply to the Spaniards at Balabak to assist him in expelling the Lanuns, and that he was determined to do so. I related to him the fable of the horse and his rider, and left him to find out its application. His ready laugh told he had caught the meaning. The Datu said he could muster 600 fighting men in Abai and Tampasuk, and that the Lanuns have but 150. At Pandasan the Lanuns have but forty men to oppose to 400 Bajus. Still, the latter have no stomach for the fight. I doubt if they give very correct information about the numbers at Pandasan, as in 1851 they were very much more numerous; in fact, several hundreds were then seen around the houses of the chiefs. They themselves said that comparatively few lived on the Tampasuk. Mr. Low ascended the Pandasan and found a village under Panquan Mahomed, whose grave we saw on the Abai; and, farther up this shoal and narrow river, he came to the village of Asam, the residence of Pañgeran Merta and other chiefs. Beyond that, on the tongue of land caused by the river dividing, was the village of Sultan Si Tabuk. About twenty-five miles to the north of Pandasan are the small rivers of Kanio Kanio and Layer Layer, also inhabited by Lanuns. They are very fond of boasting of their courage, and say, if the Europeans would but meet them sword in hand, they would fight them man to man.
I may notice that the Lanuns, Bajus, and Sulus do not shut up their women in the same manner as is practised by the Malays of the capital and most other Mahomedans; on the contrary, they often sit with the men, and enter freely into the subject under discussion. I should like to be able to ascertain whether this comparative freedom renders them more chaste than the Malay women; they could not well be less so. In Sulu, the wives of the chiefs are entrusted with the principal management of the accounts, and carry on much of the trade; it is said that they have acquired considerable knowledge from the Manilla captives, who are often of a superior class.
We stayed a day at the Datu’s house, waiting the arrival of our baggage, for which we had despatched buffaloes. The chief, to show his hospitality, determined to kill a fatted calf to feast us and our followers. The endeavours, first to catch a cow, then a calf, were very amusing. The beasts were particularly active, half-wild things; and the Bajus gave chase on horseback, galloping boldly over the rough ground, and through the long grass. We expected every moment to see man and horse roll over, but by dint of hard chasing, at last a half-grown heifer was driven into the enclosure; man, horse, and game being equally blown.
In the afternoon we rode over towards Pandasan, in search of plants; from the summit of the first low hill we had a beautiful view of the lovely plain of Tampasuk, extending from the sea far into the interior. Groves of cocoa-nuts were interspersed among the rice grounds, which extended, intermixed with grassy fields, to the sea-shore, bounded by a long line of casuarinas. Little hamlets lay scattered in all directions, some distinctly visible, others nearly hidden by the rich green foliage of the fruit-trees. The prospect was bounded on the west by low sandstone hills, whose red colour occasionally showed through the lately-burnt grass, affording a varied tint in the otherwise verdant prospect; to the south, Kina Balu and its attendant ranges were hidden by clouds.