Life in the forests of the Far East (vol. 2 of 2)

by Sir Spenser St. John

I am going to try and perform the journey in my own garei, as I can find no more sampirs at these villages to buy or borrow, and with a little extra trouble she will do, and be twice as comfortable for me. Were we to be utterly stopt, the men say we can make some bark canoes for those that cannot get into the sampirs.

Pangkalan Tarap is becoming an important village, as by orders of the Pañgeran Tumanggong the people are collecting there to show a better fight to the Kayans, and now number “two hundred men who can hold a shield.” The detached house system, so progressive with security, does not answer in a country exposed to periodical incursions. It is lamentable to see this fine district, once well cultivated, now returning to brushwood; formerly, when the population extended a hundred miles beyond the last village at present inhabited, the supply of provisions was ample for Brunei; now that the Muruts are decreasing, while Brunei is perhaps as numerous as ever, the demands made are too great even for native forbearance, and in disgust they are gradually abandoning all garden cultivation; already brushwood is taking the place of bananas and yams; few of either can now be had. The people say it is useless for them to plant for others to eat the whole produce.

The aborigines must gradually disappear from this river if the same process continues, as with food becoming daily scarcer, the area of cultivation continually lessened, as they fear to move far from their houses except in large armed parties, on account of the head-hunting Kayans, their powers of natural increase must be stopped; add to this their losses from cholera, small-pox, and the enemy, and we have sufficient data to speculate on their eventual extermination from the Limbang. They are gradually retreating down the river; twenty miles of bank have been abandoned during the last two years.

Nor must it be omitted, that as the nobles are yearly less enabled to obtain supplies from them, they are selling their children by dozens into slavery, which enables Brunei to keep up its population. Directly they arrive there, they are circumcised, and from that moment care no more for their tribes, whom they despise as infidels, and they then may be said to have joined the ranks of the oppressors. No lad could well refuse to turn Mahomedan; he would be teased to death by his companions, and if he long retained any affection for his family, he would be ashamed to show it. Generally they are taken away young, and the girls added to the numerous concubines of the rajahs: after a year or two they get tired of them, and give them in marriage to their followers.

At the back of this village is a large pond, and beyond there is another of far greater extent, which they consider a great protection against surprise. I am nursing my feet, much knocked about in ascending Kina Balu, so do not land to examine. Obtained two pikuls more of sago.

We are pulling up quietly; passed Pangkalan Jawa. The Limbuak peak bears about W. by S. At the back of the houses, at the foot of the Ladan range, Orang Kaya Kiei and his family were cut off in a farmhouse by the Kayans last February. The Kayans set fire to the rice stalks under the house, and as the family rushed out they were killed; a few, who either saw the fall of their companions, or were bewildered by the smoke, stayed in the house and were burnt to death; ten women and children lost their lives. The mode of death is conjectured from finding seven headless trunks at the doorway, and four bodies charred, without losing their heads. The summit of the Ladan range presents many instances of extensive landslips. Stayed for bearings at Tampasong. I find but few changes will be necessary in my previous map, in fact, except in the position of the ranges, which I am carefully taking, it will not be essentially improved as far as refers to the direction of the reaches; but as to their length, I think many we have passed to-day will require shortening. We were here joined by Kadayan and Si Nuri, two Adang men.

5 p.m.—I am delighted to find myself at Batang Parak, long past the last houses, and above sixty miles from Brunei. Batang Parak was formerly inhabited by Chinese, who cultivated pepper; the Malays say that they gradually died out, no fresh immigrants coming to recruit their strength, and some of the older Muruts remembered them well, and could repeat their names. Casual observations, however, prove that the above was not the way in which the Chinese always disappeared, as on passing the Madalam, a Bisaya chief pointed to a hill; formerly, he said, the Chinese built a fort there, but they were attacked and all killed.

But to return. I can now settle matters myself, and have nobody to wait for. At about four, the rain and wind came in great force from the S.W., which is a little unpleasant, but I hope it will not affect the river above the Madalam. Slight rain continues. The men are on shore, searching for vegetables, pumpkins, cucumbers, and fruit at the site of the Tabun village, burnt down last year by the Kayans. The plants grew up in great strength round the ruins, and afford supplies to every visitor. This is the fourth time we have helped ourselves, but to-day the pig-hunters having been before us, there are but few left. The fruit-trees are covered with a young crop, but none are ripe; everything, however, is eagerly appropriated by my men, who have brought but little to eat with their rice. I leave off my journal to turn to a miserable dinner of dried fish and stale bread, there being no time to cook, but a bottle of porter made it palatable.

I noticed when passing the deserted village of Blimbing, which was formerly the residence of my old friend, the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, that even the old posts of the houses were removed; the reason is this, that being made of iron wood they will last for a century. In fact, in many of the villages they have them, descended, it is said, from a long line of ancestors, and these they remove with them wherever they may establish themselves. Time and wear have reduced many of them to less than five inches in diameter, the very heart of the tree, now black with age and exposure.

When I first ascended the Limbang, and spent a few days at the village of Blimbing, I found a large party of armed men assembled who were preparing to collect sago palms, which grow in immense forests at the foot of the Ladan range. They fell the palms there, and clearing them of leaves, drag them to the banks of the small streams, and float them to the village. They always say there are two species of sago palms, one covered with thorns, the other free; the former is more safe from the attacks of wild pigs, the latter perhaps more productive. Nature has indeed stocked these countries with easily acquired food, as this palm, for instance, though improved by cultivation, will yet reproduce itself in extraordinary abundance.