Leaving the lake we pushed up a narrow creek to a house inhabited by Pañgeran Sirail, who politely requested us to spend the night at it, adding that in the morning a bazaar would be held close at hand, at which we should meet all the Dusuns of the Tawaran river; among others the Datu of the village of Tamparuli, the chief who escorted Mr. Low in his journey undertaken in 1851. We were happy to accede to his request, and finding his house very comfortable, took up our quarters in a charming little audience hall or smoking-room which extended in front, and was neat and clean.
Our baggage being heavy, we hired some Bajus to assist our men, and then lighting our lamps, sat down to dinner. Our host, while declaring that his religion prevented him joining in a glass of whiskey and water, was suddenly seized with such severe spasms in the stomach as to require medicine; we unsmilingly administered a glass of warm whiskey and water, which our host drank with evident gusto, but it required a second to complete the cure. As the evening advanced, and his utterance became more indistinct, he kept assuring us that a Mahomedan should never drink, except when spirits were taken as medicine.
We were sorry to find that the cholera had already reached Mengkabong, and that several deaths had taken place. In the night we were disturbed by piercing shrieks and mournful wails from a neighbouring house; we thought it was another victim of the epidemic, but it proved to be a young girl sorrowing for the loss of a sister, who died in the night from abscess.
Early in the morning the market-people began to assemble, and Bajus and Dusuns crowded round the house; the former brought salt, salted fish, iron, and cloth, to exchange for rice, vegetables, and fruit. These markets are very convenient, and, as at Brunei, are held daily at different points, in order to accommodate the various villages scattered around the lake. To-day there was a very great gathering, as many disputes had to be settled.
The old Datu of Tamparuli came, and at first appeared uninterested and scarcely noticed us, his eye-sight was weak, and he appeared dull and stupid. A glass of whiskey and water revived his energies and his recollection, he shook Mr. Low warmly by the hand, and then turning to the assembly told them in an excited voice of the wonderful feats he had performed in the old journey, and how he had actually reached the summit of Kina Balu.
This fired the ambition of Pañgeran Sirail, who, as long as he was under the influence of whiskey, declared it would be dishonour to allow the white men to do this difficult task alone, and pointing to the craggy summits now clearly visible above the trees, swore he would reach them, but his courage soon oozed out at his fingers’ ends. The Datu, however, considered himself as too old again to attempt the journey, but said he would send his son-in-law and a party of followers.
When the market was over we started, most of our baggage being placed on light bamboo sledges drawn by buffaloes, which appeared to pass over the soft soil with great ease. The path, nearly due east, lay over a pretty plain for the most part under cultivation; men were ploughing, harrowing, and sowing in various fields, that were carefully divided into small squares with slight embankments between them. The ploughing was better than at Tampasuk, deeper, and the ground more turned over; each section of these fields is as much private property as any in England, and in general so much valued as to be rarely parted with.
In crossing this cultivated plain we had the finest view of Kina Balu that could be imagined, it was just before we reached the Tawaran river; we were standing where the young rice was showing its tender green above the ground: on either side were groves of tall palms, and in front, the hills rose in successive ranges till Kina Balu crowned the whole. Its purple precipices were distinctly visible, and broad streams of water, flashing in the bright morning sun, were flowing down the upper slopes to disappear in mist or deep ravines, or to be lost in the shadows of the great mountain.
About three miles walking brought us to the Tawaran, whose banks were lined with groves of cocoa-nut and other fruit-trees; interspersed among which were Dusun villages and detached houses. We observed also a plantation of sago palms, which the inhabitants said were plentiful, but certainly not in the parts we had traversed.
There were also gardens here as neatly fenced in and as carefully tended as those of the Chinese; and this rich soil produced in great perfection sugar-cane, Indian corn, yams, kiladis, and other vegetables. The whole had a very civilized appearance, the neatness was remarkable, and about the houses were cattle, buffaloes, and goats, in great numbers. On reaching the Tawaran, Monsieur Cuarteron left us to visit a Manilla man, who, though formerly a captive sold into slavery, had now become the chief of a Dusun village.