4 p.m.—It is unpleasant to record no progress, but the river is still two feet higher than it was this morning, and is falling but slowly. Were it still early, I should push on, but it is useless to disturb ourselves so late in the afternoon. I had a clear, but partial view to-day of what Japer calls the east end of Molu range. Their summits appear to rise to between 5,000 and 6,000 feet; they are the mountains which I can see from the back of the Consulate.
The men begin now to appreciate the tents, and pitch them every night. I still sleep in the boat, as it is a work of labour to remove my baggage, and it is as well not to leave it without my servant or myself to watch over it. To-day we noticed evidences of there having been visitors lately in this neighbourhood. Our guides declare they are Kayans, so that the men are beginning to keep a look-out.
We are surrounded by the evidences of former cultivation, but now the country is totally abandoned. The Kayans first of all attacked the Tabuns, who lived on the Madalam, and drove them away; they then attacked the Muruts on the main river, and these being all disunited, were destroyed piecemeal, each village caring only for itself. There is now not an inhabitant on the Upper Limbang except among the mountains close to its sources. Far as the Muruts have fled—and they are beyond the distant eastern range—they are still exposed to forays. However, they are seldom disturbed by great attacks; they are more annoyed by small parties of from ten to fifty.
In my journal kept during my visit to the Baram Kayans, I mention that there was great weeping in some of the villages on account of the destruction of a party said to have amounted to six hundred, but I believe two hundred was the right number. They started from the Baram town to search for heads and slaves in the Upper Trusan. I will follow the course they took, to show what energy they display in this warlike amusement. They pulled down the Baram until they reached the Tutu branch; which they ascended to the Millanau, then up that tributary to the foot of the western Molu range.
Here was the regular Kayan road connecting the Millanau with the Trunan, a branch of the Madalam. This road is cleared about two fathoms broad, and then trunks of small trees are laid across and secured about a yard apart. I followed it once for upwards of two miles. The Kayans, on reaching this spot, haul their boats (tamuis) along the road, and considering that some of their tamuis are sixty feet long, it is a work of infinite labour, but three or four crews lay on to one boat and gradually move the whole fleet over into the Trunan river. From thence they descend about thirty miles through the Madalam to the Limbang; then up the Limbang to the Adang landing-place—very heavy work, as we find it.
On this occasion they pushed farther up the river, and crossed over to the interior of the Trusan. Here, as ill luck would have it, they were noticed by the Lepuasing Muruts, and contrary to the usual Murut custom, a large force quietly collected, and before the Kayans had killed above two women and a child, they were attacked in the rear and fled to an island full of caves.
They were soon surrounded, and the alarm having spread, reinforcements of Muruts came in on every side. They attacked the mouths of some of the caves, but the Kayans easily beat them off. Finding they were losing men to no purpose, they changed their tactics, and at this part of the story the Murut listeners gave a grunt of satisfaction. They collected great quantities of firewood and heaped it before the caves, then set it on fire, and prepared for the rush that would surely take place. Maddened by the smoke, the Kayans attempted to break through, but were driven back, and in less than two hours the whole party were either killed or suffocated. The Lepuasing Muruts have suffered from no further attacks. One or two Kayans who did not fly to the caves got away, and reached their homes after a few months in a state of semi-starvation.
The Kayans having driven the Muruts of the upper Limbang away, are now extending their attacks to the portion nearer the capital. In March, 1857, they came over to the number of three thousand, and built a large encampment at the mouth of the Damit river; from thence they sent insolent messages to the Government of Brunei, threatening to destroy the whole country unless some particular village was given up to them to plunder. The Bornean Government, in great fear, collected every available man, and sent them up to oppose the Kayans; but, apparently, neither felt inclined to fight.
After about a month’s talk, Makota proposed that the Kayans should be bribed by the Muruts to return to their own country; but the latter, remembering a former trick he had played them, were very unwilling to come to terms; so Makota had a secret interview with the Kayan chiefs, and then gave out that peace was concluded, that the Kayans would go back to their own country, and so ordered the Bornean forces to return to the capital. Scarcely had they done so, when Makota’s plan was revealed: he had given them up a Murut village (Balat Ikan) which he disliked; the Kayans surprised it, killed thirteen, and captured seventeen, obtaining likewise the whole plunder. This was the Bornean plan of getting rid of an enemy. It is worthy of remark that while the two forces were face to face, traders from the capital went up to supply the Kayans with food in exchange for valuable jungle produce.
The way in which the head-hunters surprised Balat Ikan is an illustration of the divisions that separate the different races on the Limbang. The frontier fortified village was then Blimbing, inhabited by Bisayans, commanded by a son of the old Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, I have often referred to, and when he saw the Kayan force descending the river, he ran to his guns and prepared to fire into them, but the people in the foremost boat shouted out that if he would neither fire his guns, or beat the alarm signal, they would not meddle with his village, upon which he ordered his men not to interfere. The villagers of Balat Ikan, inhabited by Muruts, trusting to the usual alarm signal, kept no watch, and were easily surprised.