We continued our course inland along the banks of the Tawaran until we reached Tamparuli, prettily embowered in extensive groves of fruit-trees: we took up our quarters for the night at the old Datu’s house, which was very similar to those of the Sea Dayaks.
The Tawaran, where we first joined it, was about sixty yards broad, and the stream was rapid, swollen by the late rains, and muddy from recent landslips. It is a river very unimportant in itself, as here, not perhaps ten miles from the sea, there are already rapids that can only be passed by very small native craft.
The old Datu of Tamparuli is the proud possessor of the famed sacred jar I have already referred to. It was a Gusi, and was originally given by a Malau chief in the interior of the Kapuas to a Pakatan Dayak, converted, however, to Islam, and named Japar. He sold it to a Bornean trader for nearly two tons of brass guns, or 230l., who brought it to the Tawaran to resell it, nominally for 400l., really for nearly 700l. No money passes on these occasions, it is all reckoned in brass guns or goods, and the old Datu was paying for his in rice. He possesses another jar, however, to which he attaches an almost fabulous value; it is about two feet in height, and is of a dark olive green. He fills both the jars with water, and adds flowers and herbs to retail to all the surrounding people who may be suffering from any illness. The night we were there they little thought that a scourge was coming upon them which would test to the utmost the virtue of the sacred jars.
Perhaps, however, the most remarkable jar in Borneo, is the one possessed by the present Sultan of Brunei, as it not only has all the valuable properties of the other sacred vases, but speaks. As the Sultan told this with a grave face and evident belief in the truth of what he was relating, we listened to the story with great interest. He said, the night before his first wife died, it moaned sorrowfully, and on every occasion of impending misfortune it utters the same melancholy sounds. I have sufficient faith in his word to endeavour to seek an explanation of this (if true) remarkable phenomenon, and perhaps it may arise from the wind blowing over its mouth, which may be of some peculiar shape, and cause sounds like those of an Æolian harp. I should have asked to see it, had it not been always kept in the women’s apartments.
As a rule, it is covered over with gold-embroidered brocade, and seldom exposed, except when about to be consulted. This may account for its only producing sounds at certain times. I have heard, that in former days, the Muruts and Bisayas used to come with presents to the Sultan, and obtain in return a little water from this sacred jar, with which to besprinkle their fields to ensure good crops. I have not known an instance of their doing so during late years, as the relations between monarch and people are now of the most unsatisfactory kind.
In looking over Carletti’s Voyage, I find he mentions taking some sacred jars from the Philippine Islands to Japan, which were so prized there, that the punishment of death was denounced against them if they were sold to any one but the Government. Some, he says, were valued as high as 30,000l. The Sultan of Brunei was asked if he would take 2,000l. for his; he answered he did not think any offer in the world would tempt him to part with it.
The Datu possessed a daughter, the loveliest girl in Borneo. I have never seen a native surpass her in figure, or equal her gentle, expressive countenance. She appeared but sixteen years of age, and as she stood near, leaning against the door-post in the most graceful attitude, we had a perfect view of all her perfections. Her dress was slight indeed, consisting of nothing but a short petticoat reaching from her waist to a little above her knees. Her skin was of that light clear brown which is almost the perfection of colour in a sunny clime, and as she was just returning from bathing, her hair unbound fell in great luxuriance over her shoulders. Her eyes were black, not flashing, but rather contemplative, and her features were regular, even her nose was straight.
So intent was she in watching our movements, and wondering at our novel mode of eating, with spoons, and knives and forks, that she unconsciously remained in her graceful attitude for some time; but suddenly recollecting that she was not appearing to the best advantage in her light costume, she moved away slowly to her room, and presently came forth dressed in a silk jacket and new petticoat, with bead necklaces and gold ornaments. In our eyes she did not look so interesting as before.
Pañgeran Sirail now approached us to say that he felt he was too old and weak to ascend the great mountain, but had brought three of his people to supply his place. We were not sorry, as his devotion to whiskey would have sadly reduced our little stock. Although it was but three months after the harvest, yet we could obtain no supplies of rice; they had it in the form of padi, but were unwilling to part with it, so we sent back some of our followers to procure sufficient for a few days.
Next morning we made but little progress, as we had to wait for the men who had gone in search of rice. However, we reached the village of Bawang, our path lying among the fruit groves that skirted the river’s banks. As it was now unfordable, we had to cross it by a boat, and this was a slow process with our large party.