Bawang, a Dusun village, consists of scattered dwellings, like those of the Malays, while the others we have seen resemble the houses of the Sea Dayaks. A family very hospitably received us, and gave up half their accommodation to us and our immediate followers. The Datu who had accompanied us to this place now returned, handing us over to Kadum, his son-in-law, a very dull-looking man; we were also joined by ten others. One, a Malay named Omar, who was to act as interpreter and guide, was a willing but a stupid fellow; he came originally from the Dutch settlement of Pontianak, and had been married five years to a Dusun girl, yet he could scarcely manage to act as interpreter, not so much from ignorance, as from a confusion of ideas.
Started soon after six for a cleared spot about a quarter of a mile above the village, where we stopped to introduce some order in our followers: we divided the packages among them, and found each of the forty-one men had sufficient to carry.
About two or three miles above Bawang the Tawaran divides—one branch running from the south, the other from the S.E. by E. We soon reached the foot of the sandstone range, which bounds the low land, and like all heights composed of this rock, it was very steep to climb. For a thousand feet it was abrupt, and severe work to those unused to such toil. The path then led us along the top of the ridge to a peak about 1,500 feet high, from which I was enabled to take compass bearings. A fine view was to be had a few feet from the summit, the coast line being quite clear from Gaya Bay to Sulaman Lake, and the distant isles scattered on the sea were distinctly visible. A wide plain stretches below us, mostly rice fields, with groves of fruit-trees interspersed among them, and the Mengkabong waters appearing extensive, form a pleasing feature in the scene.
We continued our course to the village of Si Nilau, passing over a hill of a similar name, about 1,800 feet high. The village, if village it can be called, where a number of little detached hamlets are scattered about the slopes of the hills, amid groves of palms, is a good resting-place. We brought up here to give time for our followers to join us, as they felt the climbing more than we did, who carried nothing but our weapons. We were three hours, exclusive of stoppages, advancing four miles of direct course E. by S. Most of the ranges run nearly E. and W., though occasionally there is some divergence.
After breakfasting, we started, hoping to reach the next village of Kalawat, but our guide making a mistake, led us in a totally wrong direction, so that after wandering about two hours in a scorching sun without shelter, we returned to Si Nilau.
Heavy masses of clouds were now driving over the sky, threatening a deluge of rain, so we determined to spend the night here, and told our guide that we would distribute our men among the houses. Omar presently returned, saying the villagers refused us entrance into their dwellings. As now heavy drops began to fall, I went down from the fruit grove, where our party was assembled, and approaching a house which appeared the neatest and the cleanest, I found the door shut. There were evidently people inside, while all the other houses were empty. It is an universal custom in Borneo to afford shelter to travellers, but they very rarely like to enter houses whose owners are absent. Hearing some whispering going on inside, I knocked and directed the interpreter to ask for shelter; there was no answer, and as the heavy drops were coming down faster, I gave a vigorous push to the door. The fastening gave way, and an old woman fell back among a crowd of frightened girls, who, at the sight of a white man, shrieked and sprang to the ground through an opposite window. They did not run far, but turned to look if they were followed. We went to the window, and, smilingly beckoned them to come back, and as the rain was now beginning to descend with violence, they did so. We apologized for our rough entry, but the high wind that drove sheets of water against the house was our best excuse. We promised to pay for our accommodation, and in five minutes they were all busily engaged in their usual avocations. On the return of the men from their farms, we told them what had occurred, at which they laughed heartily as soon as they found we were not offended by having had the door shut in our faces, and we then made many inquiries concerning the lake of Kina Balu, and whether either branch of the Tawaran ran from it; but all the Dusuns were positive that the river had its sources in the hills, which we could see farther east. Of the lake itself they had never heard.
The Nilau tribe is very scattered, none of the hamlets having above a dozen small houses; but in personal appearance Mr. Low found them much improved since he saw them in 1851. It is impossible even to guess at the population; but judging from the cleared appearance of the country, it must be tolerably numerous. There is little old forest, except on the summit of the highest ridges, all the land being used in succession. Rice, however, is the principal cultivation, there being few kiladis, and we observed no tobacco plantations.
The girls of this village wore black cloths over their shoulders, and brought down so as to conceal their bosoms.
Started early for Kalawat in an E. by S. direction. A sharp ascent led us to the top of the heights of Tangkahang, from which we had a very extensive view, reaching from Mantanani to Mengkabong. Ranges of hills, nearly parallel to our walk, occurred on either side, with feeders of the Tawaran at their feet. After an hour’s walk, reached the Kalawat hills, nearly 3,000 feet high. The path passed, after a few hundred yards, to the south of the range, perhaps 200 feet from its summit, and after a mile turned to the S.E. Then the walk became very tiring, up and down the steepest of ravines, with slippery clay steps or loose stones. I was not sorry, therefore, to reach the village of Kalawat, a cluster of about ten houses, containing upwards of eighty families. The village was dirty and so were the houses.
We stopped here to breakfast, and to wait the arrival of our straggling followers, and heard of the desertion of one of them. He was a negro, of great size and power, and, in muscular development, equal to two or three of our other men. Our overseer had chosen him to carry our edibles, as tea, sugar, salt, and curry stuffs; but had unfortunately trusted him also with half a bottle of whiskey. He had complained bitterly of the exhausting nature of the walk, and no sooner were our backs turned than he slipped into the brushwood, and devoted himself to the bottle; he was found there by the overseer, who, after extracting a promise that he would follow when sober, left him with all our condiments. These very heavy muscular men have generally proved useless in jungle work. In all our arrangements we now greatly missed Musa, my head boatman, who had stayed behind at Brunei, to look after his family during the cholera.