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

by Sir Spenser St. John

The natives tell a story of a certain datu, who was a great trader, and fond of sailing a prahu from Sulu to Manilla; during the course of his voyages, he made the acquaintance of an English merchant, who had, on various occasions, trusted him with goods and treated him very liberally, not an unusual circumstance in the East. At last the datu took to gambling, and squandered all his property, sold his houses, his slaves, and at last lost a large sum, and was obliged to place his wife and children in pawn as security. The only property he had preserved was a favourite slave boy, and with him he started in a small canoe to the oyster-banks. There they remained fishing, and had varied success, but every day increasing the amount in the hollow bamboo in which the natives generally keep their small seed pearls. In the evenings the datu would talk over the tales they had heard from other fishermen, and the chief delighted to recount the story of the vast pearl which was seen by the men of old, and actually brought in its oyster into a canoe, but had slipped from the fingers of the incautious captor. The natives declare that the oysters containing the largest pearls are always open, until you approach them, and that by cautiously peering into the water, they may be seen.

One day the slave boy was preparing to dive, when he started back, touched his master’s sleeve, and with signs of great emotion pointed into the water; he could not speak. The datu looked, and there, seven fathoms below them, lay an oyster, with an enormous pearl distinctly visible. Without a moment’s reflection, he plunged in, and dived with such skill and speed, that he reached the shell before it closed, and actually had his fingers caught in it. He thrust hand and shell into his bosom, and, being an expert swimmer, rose quickly to the surface, and was helped into the boat by his anxious follower. They then forced open the oyster, and there lay a pearl, unsurpassed in size and of an extraordinary shape; they pulled back to Sugh, and selling all his smaller pearls, the datu redeemed his wife and children, and set sail for Manilla. There he went to the house of his English friend and said, “Take this pearl, clear off my debt, give me what you like in return, I shall be satisfied.” The merchant took the pearl, gave him what he considered its value, at all events, enough to make Sulu ring with his generosity, and sent the pearl to China, and what became of it I never could distinctly trace; but I heard that what was called the “Mermaid Pearl” in Bengal originally came from China, and the Sulus say their one was like the body of a woman.

It is a very curious superstition in those countries, that if you place gold or pearls in a packet by themselves, they will certainly decrease in quantity or in number, and, in the end, totally disappear; but if you add a few grains of rice, the treasure is safe. With pearls they always do so, under the impression that they not only preserve the amount but actually increase the number. I have never yet seen a native open a packet of gold or pearls, or any precious stones, without noticing some grains of rice.

The instances I have given of piracy are merely referred to, to show what kind of mischief the pirates commit. I am aware they are not very modern instances, but they were fresh when I wrote them in my journal, and the same system is still pursued, though not to the same extent; but I may add a few remarks on the present state of piracy on the northern coast of Borneo. Once a year a fleet of Balignini pass down the coast on their outward voyage, or running before the south-west monsoon on their return home. In the month of July, 1861, a squadron of private prahus coming up from the southward, sailed across the deep Bay of Sarawak, and their light boats had a slight skirmish with a weakly manned Sarawak gunboat, but directly they found a twelve-pounder shot passing close to them, they pulled back to their consorts, as it is a maxim with them to avoid all encounters where blows are likely to be obtained, as they say, “We seek to plunder, not to fight.” Continuing their course they reached Point Sirik, and there captured a boat containing several of our Indian British subjects, and giving Labuan a wide berth picked up a few fishermen off Mengkabong, and at last reached Maludu Bay. Here they met some trading prahus from Sulu, and with them they held friendly intercourse.

On board the Balignini prahus was a respectable native named Inchi Ngah, from one of the Dutch settlements on the west coast of Borneo, who had been captured off Pontianak: he immediately recognized some fellow-countrymen on board the Sulu prahus, who had been missing from their homes above a year. He now learnt that they had been captured by the Balignini during the year 1860, and had been taken to Sulu; that there the sultan, finding they were of high rank, had interested himself in their case, and taken care of them, and had now sent them back to Borneo as passengers, on board a Sulu trader on his way to Labuan. Inchi Ngah begged they would ransom him, but they had no property. At last they persuaded the Sulu trader to do it for them, and Inchi Ngah was once more a free man. They arrived in Labuan the latter end of August, just as the Rainbow steamer was about to start for Sarawak, and hearing that the great friend of the Malay race was on board, they came and laid their case before him. As he never refused his assistance where it was possible, he not only gave them all passages to Sarawak, but refunded to the Sulu trader the money he had advanced to ransom Inchi Ngah.

Having been a fellow-passenger with these men, I had many opportunities of conversing with them, and they told me that when they were taken there were already a hundred and fifty captives on board the boats, and that the Balignini who captured them came from two places on the chief island of the Archipelago—Sulu itself—and that the names of their settlements were Dundong, and the little river of Kabungkul. They added, that the Balignini, in order to preserve themselves from attack, now always chose spots which were too shallow for steamers or men-of-war to approach, that these two settlements had to be reached through intricate channels leading through a mangrove swamp, and that the houses were completely hidden by the trees.

A mangrove swamp is one of the most unpleasant things to cross, and, therefore, affords great protection to settlements built within its mazes. The mangrove tree always grows in salt or very brackish water, and its roots lift it several feet above the soil, allowing the tides to flow freely between them: at high water canoes can be pulled among the trees, but at low tide it presents a tangled but open bunch of roots to each separate tree, and it can only be passed by springing from one slippery root to another, and by the assistance of the branches. The mangrove trees at a distance look to an unpractised eye much like other jungle, only they are of a more uniform height and appearance; yet the colour of their leaves can never be mistaken.

The fact that these Balignini have settled on the island itself, shows either that the sultan is indifferent to the spread of piracy, or is unable to check his subjects. But the fact is, probably, that as piracy is not looked upon as a dishonourable pursuit, native princes only discountenance it when they are under the dread of its drawing on them the vengeance of an European power. The principal other positions held by the Balignini, as I have elsewhere observed, are Binadan and Tawee Tawee.

The system pursued by the Balignini is admirably adapted for their purpose; although they cruise in large prahus, yet to each they have three or four attendant fast boats, and when they wish to surprise unwary fishermen, they anchor their large vessels out of sight of land, and send in the others to make captures; the most curious instrument they employ is a kind of huge double-pronged fork, with barbed ends, which they push over the neck of a flying enemy, and effectually stop his movements.

A few years ago, some followers of Amba de Rajah, a Bornean, residing in Sarawak, were pulling along the shore, when they suddenly came upon a Balignini fast boat; they immediately turned and fled, and were followed by the pirates, who shouted to them to surrender, but the Borneans took no notice. The chief of the Balignini kept up a fire from his rifle at the fugitives, and at last hit the steersman in the side, who took no notice, but continued to urge on the others to renewed exertions: again and again he was struck, but did not drop his paddle, but continued the flight; at last a large trading boat coming in sight, the pirates gave up the pursuit, and the Borneans escaped. The brave fellow, who received the three wounds without flinching, though he suffered much, yet eventually recovered, and I afterwards saw him in Sarawak.