Riding on over the undulating ground, we entered a plain that lies between the districts of Tampasuk and Pandasan; it looked parched, and was in no way to be compared to the one we had left: clouds of smoke from the burning grass occasionally obscured the prospect. Here Mr. Low found a beautiful gardinia, growing on slight elevations, on barren, decomposing rock, and plentiful wherever the land was undulating. It seemed to flourish in positions exposed to the hottest rays of the sun, and in situations where the reflected heat was also very great. It was a bush, varying from a few inches to two feet in height, and bore flowers of a pure white. We observed some of the shrubs not six inches in height, which were covered with blossoms, yielding a powerful aromatic odour. In fact, as we rode among them, the whole air appeared filled with their fragrance. I imagine the dwarfing of the plants resulted from the inferior nature of the soil, and the great heat which kept the moisture from their roots. The high range that separates these districts from Maludu Bay does not appear to be very far off; in fact, it is but two days’ journey on horseback, which, in the mountains, would not be much faster than walking, since the paths are very bad. We galloped home, the natives evidently amused by our novel style of sitting a horse. Our ride had been in a north-easterly direction.
On our arrival at the Datu’s house, we found all our followers assembled, and the baggage in heaps near our beds. We therefore made preparations for starting in the morning. On dividing our luggage, however, it appeared that we should require at least a dozen Bajus to assist; these had been promised, but were not forthcoming. Guides to carry nothing were easily procurable; but it being the month of the Ramadhan was an excuse for any amount of laziness.
When we started next morning, the Datu came with us a few miles and helped us with some of his men; so that, having packed up, we were enabled to leave about nine A.M. Our route lay through lowland for about a mile and a half, crossing the river once. We stopped at a village situated on and about a low hill. By the way, we saw a herd of fine cattle, both white and piebald—an unusual colour in Borneo; they were in a very flourishing condition, and I endeavoured in vain to make arrangements to transport the whole lot to my grounds near the Consulate. We stayed at a house occupied by Rajah Ali, a Baju, for about an hour, trying to get men to take the place of the Datu’s, who had helped us so far, but could not tempt really useful men. We had already four guides, and might have had as many more as we pleased, but porters were not to be procured.
The house where we rested was on top of a little hill, commanding a very extensive prospect: at the foot the river divided into two, one branch stretching away towards the E.S.E., whose course we could trace for eight or ten miles; it then appears to take a southerly direction, towards Kina Balu, from which the natives say it issues: the right-hand branch bore S. by E., and this is visible for several miles—perhaps eight; it then appears to turn more easterly. Near the banks the ground is generally flat, while towards the west the hills are numerous.
Finding it impossible to get men enough to carry all our things, we resolved to push on with those we had, and then send back for the remainder. Our impedimenta were numerous, as we had boxes for specimens, planks with quires of brown paper, besides the cloths and brass wire required to purchase provisions. Every man also was provided with a musket.
Our course lay at first over hills with soil of a reddish colour, but a couple of miles brought us to the low land bordering the river. Here we brought up under a clump of cocoa-nut palms, to allow our straggling party to collect, and having obtained permission, our men soon secured a supply of the fruit. I have no doubt that many travellers in tropical countries will agree with me, that nothing is more refreshing after a walk in a broiling sun (and it was indeed broiling to-day) than a draught of cocoa-nut-milk, duly tempered with a dash of wine or brandy. For some time I preferred a glass of sherry or madeira, now I incline to a tablespoonful of brandy, as forming the most agreeable and healthy compound. I have seen to-day a great many clumps of cocoa-nut-trees very unhealthy. I think they must be injured by the constant drain to which they are subjected by the aborigines in extracting toddy from them. These trees belonged to the Piasau Ida’an, whose villages were scattered in every direction. Piasau is the word used by the Borneans of the capital for cocoa-nut.
While reclining under the shade of these palm-trees, we had a beautiful view of the country beyond. The Tampasuk flowed past us, bubbling and breaking over its uneven bed; here shallower, and therefore broader, than usual. To the left the country was open, almost to the base of the great mountain; to the right the land was more hilly, and Saduk Saduk showed itself as a high peak, but dwarfed by its neighbourhood to Kina Balu, whose rocky precipices looked now of a purple colour. The summit was beautiful and clear, and I remained in earnest study of its features till aroused by an exclamation of my companion, who, pointing to a remarkable indentation surmounting an apparently huge fissure in gloomy shade, said, “I am sure that is the spot where I left a bottle in 1851.” With the aid of a telescope we could distinctly note the position of every crag, and I determined, if possible, we would visit that fissure, and see if the bottle still remained. Kina Balu looked more grand to-day than ever as there were no hills between us to mar its noble proportions. I made a sketch of the crags on the summit in order to recognize them again, if we should be sufficiently fortunate to reach them.
Having collected our party, now amounting to about thirty, we moved on. Our path lay near the river, which we had to ford eight times, and where the stream was rapid, the operation proved very fatiguing. Between the reaches our path ran over granite débris of the size of coarse sand; it was so hot that it felt painful through our shoes, and those who were barefoot danced along over it as if they were on burning stones:—it was trying walking. We fully intended to have reached Ginambur, but having had so many detentions, we found that at 4 P.M. it was still several miles off; it was useless, therefore, to expect to reach it, particularly as our men, unaccustomed to walking, were greatly fatigued. We determined, therefore, to put up at the farm-houses of the Buñgol Ida’an, which were built conveniently on the banks of the river. It had been threatening rain, which came on before the evening closed in. Our general direction all day had been a little to the east of south.
The Datu of Tampasuk had promised to accompany us himself, but the fast gave him an excellent excuse; he, however, sent some men as guides, whom he called his relations. These men of course came with us, fancying that by trading for us with the Ida’an they would be enabled to make a great profit beyond the regular pay. They did not fail to let us know their intentions, by telling us that the Ida’an were asking half a dollar’s worth of goods for a fowl; so we declined taking it, telling the Bajus that we were well aware that they themselves could get a dozen for the same amount. We expected and intended to let them fleece us moderately, but this was too barefaced. We had tin meats,—so managed to make an excellent dinner without the fowl. Such provisions are certainly of great assistance to the traveller, but the addition of a fowl, or of any fresh vegetable, takes away that unpleasant taste always observable in preserved meats.
It was here I first saw natives ploughing. Their plough is of a very simple construction, and serves rather to scratch the ground than really to turn it over: it is made entirely of wood, and is drawn by a buffalo, and its action was the same as if a pointed stick had been dragged through the land to the depth of about four inches. After ploughing, they use a rough kind of harrow. Simple as this agriculture is, it is superior to anything that exists south of Brunei, and it would be interesting to investigate the causes that have rendered this small part of Borneo, between the capital and Maludu Bay, so superior in agriculture to the rest. I think it is obviously a remnant of Chinese civilization. I must elsewhere dwell upon the Chinese intercourse, as it is too extensive a subject to be introduced into a journal while waiting for the cook to get the dinner ready. The farm hut in which we spent the night was about twelve feet by six, and of exceedingly neat construction: the bamboo was employed for posts, and split afforded both good flooring and walls; the roofing leaves were also excellent, and made from the sago palm. The musquitoes were very numerous, and soon drove us to bed: the natives assert that these insects are not to be found near running fresh water—a statement which experience completely disproves.