From time immemorial, it has been a custom among the inhabitants of these villages to beat an alarm on their gongs on the first appearance of an enemy, or when some great misfortune has happened. It puts the people on the alert, as when I lost my boat on a snag in the Madalam, the report spread I was drowned or in trouble, and the alarm signal was beaten, and I met a dozen boats coming to the rescue, or to inquire into the truth of the report.
Makota’s trick, referred to above, was this—The Kayans were in force at Sungei Damit (in 1855) when he arranged with their chiefs that on the payment of a hundred pikuls of guns (700l.) they should retire. The Muruts collected a large amount, which Makota coolly kept for himself. The enraged Kayans fell upon a Tabun village above Batang Parak, and carried it with great slaughter of men, women, and children.
Having remained quiet the whole day, the men were in no way fatigued, and we sat late talking over these and other matters, and collecting words of the Adang language, which is, in fact, the same as that of the other Muruts.
3rd. The river did not fall above three inches during the night, but I pushed off at six and brought up at 12.45 for the day, as it was thundering and threatening rain from the S.W. Three p.m.—The rain has just commenced, but we are comfortably sheltered for the night. There is little to notice, except that the river continues broad and often very shallow, each reach containing an island which, of course, produces a rapid, rendering our progress slow. Occasionally the banks are high, showing a sort of stratified shale. The jungle continues small, except on some of the low hills we have passed. From our resting place the Sertab range does not appear to be far off.
Some of our party are much alarmed by finding a long Kayan hut but recently occupied; so that there is no doubt that the head-hunters have been here, which induces me to take every reasonable precaution; but our Muruts are full of the most absurd fancies, saying that if the Kayans have killed people in the interior, the villagers will declare we did it, and attack us. They would willingly return to their homes; even those who are anxious to see their friends are disheartened by the assured marks of the recent neighbourhood of the head-hunters. I have told all the men that on no account are we to meddle with the Kayans, but should they attack any of our party, then to fall upon them without mercy. I hope we shall neither see nor hear anything of them.
We have brought up for the night at a curious place, a sort of large island, a stony and sandy plain, about 200 by 400 yards, with patches of vegetation and clumps of trees on it. There is one about fifty yards from us, that will afford shelter in case of a heavy fresh. There is every sign of there being tremendous inundations in this river. Our sportsmen, with their usual ill-luck, missed a deer on the sandy plain before us. There are numerous droppings of wild cattle, and our men have just reported some on the other side of the river, about a quarter of a mile farther up. If it cease raining before sunset, I will go after them.
7 p.m.—I have been, and there is not a trace of anything but pigs. A huge boar swam away within fifty yards of one of the men, but he missed it; we were consoled, however, on our return, by catching some very fine fish. Rain has again commenced, and until we leave Molu to the north of us will, I believe, continue.
4th.—Though it drizzled a good part of the night, still the river fell nine inches. We got away by 6 a.m., and pulled on till 9.40, when we stopped for breakfast; off again at 11.25, and brought up for the night at 3.35. This is the most fortunate day we have yet had: cloudy in the morning, but clearing up into fine weather. We have had seven hours and a half of good work, not including stoppages, and have made, I think, more than eight miles. Nearly every reach includes a rapid, and one at the Sertab hills caused us a little delay, as we had to remove stones to make a passage for our boats. In the least rapid part of the river is a good place for taking the dip and strike of the rock. Dip N.N.W., strike E.N.E., angle 80°, sandstone.
The river has been winding the whole day among hills, varying in elevation from 500 to 1,500 feet (estimated), and clothed with a fine forest. At the distance the Sertab hills appear to be a single range, but in fact they are a succession of short ones. When this district was inhabited, no doubt each had a distinct name, but now they call them all the Sertab hills. We are about to leave the sandstone country. In the last reach I applied the test to the first piece of limestone I have seen during this expedition, but it was scarcely necessary, as there was no mistaking its form. The Salindong hills ahead of us are evidently limestone. We had a partial view of a high mountain, which Japer says is the east end of the Molu range, which I long to see in the rear, but as yet it is always to the east of south. I suspect there are several ranges, forming what the natives call the Molu hills. The general direction from the mouth of the Madalam has been S.E. by E.
The incidents which have varied the day have been the finding of another new Kayan sulap, or hut, and the decaying head of a large wild boar left by an alligator on the bank. The last was for us an unfortunate discovery, as the Muruts seized upon it, and have it now in their boat—a most offensive subject for our nostrils. Every time they passed us a most disgusting whiff came our way, and now at our resting place we are obliged to insist that they shall either get rid of the head, or encamp away from us. The love of high pork has prevailed over fear, so they have taken up their quarters at the other end of the pebbly flat.