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

by Sir Spenser St. John

The coal-fields of Borneo are as extensive as the island. It is reported in Maludu Bay; found in Gaya Island; is everywhere discoverable on the mainland opposite Labuan; has been traced in Baram, in Bintulu, through the Sarawak districts to Banjermasin on the southern coast. They must some day prove of the greatest importance.

Continuing my notice of the capital, I may explain that the whole direct revenue of the sultan does not exceed 2,500l. a year, except what he may obtain in produce from his dependent tribes, which scarcely supports the current expenses of his household.

The Brunei government possesses no armed force beyond the power of calling out the population as militia, who rarely respond to the call, as they are neither fed nor paid during their time of service, and are generally required to perform acts repugnant to their real interests. It possesses neither war boats nor police, and is incapable of organizing an expedition to attack a neighbouring district, and is, without exception, one of the most contemptible semblances of power that ever existed. As I have said before, it has the name of government, but not the reality.

Crime is unpunished, if committed by a relative or a follower of a high noble, as no one will act against him for fear of the enmity of his chief. There is a man in Brunei, named Sirudin Buñgkul, who is the most notorious thief in the capital. He lives in very good style on the result of his achievements, and is admitted into the best society. He is never punished, as he is a follower of the chief minister, the pañgeran bandhara. He appears to be clever, as he manages to quiet the dogs, and has never been taken in the act of robbery; in fact, few would dare to attempt to seize a man naked to the waist, well oiled, and carrying a drawn kris in his hand. When in want of funds, he makes a visit to the different shops to inspect; he is always treated with a kind of familiar deference, and the Chinese are kept in a state of nervousness till his coup has come off. Petty thefts are common, but few extensive robberies; and yet it is not difficult to get into leaf-houses, particularly of the Chinese, who sleep heavily after their opium and spirits.

It is not surprising that these men occasionally commit crimes when an example is set by the highest officers of state. Makota, who was in the habit of getting into debt, and seldom troubling himself about payment, owed a Chinese trader, Si Panjang, a considerable sum of money. The constant dunning of this creditor at last produced a quarrel, and the Chinese used some expressions which Makota considered very insulting; so next morning he sent the Bindari, one of his officers, to affix a notice to Si Panjang’s door, giving notice that he was no longer under the protection of government. Five days after a fire burst out in that dwelling, which not only consumed the trader’s house, but extended so as to burn down half the Chinese quarter, and the loss was estimated at 20,000l. Though long suspected, the fact was not made clear till after Makota’s death. The fire took place in July, 1856, two months before I took up my residence in Brunei.

Thefts and robberies are nominally punished by cutting off the hand, but this penalty has fallen into disuse since the advent of the English. There are, however, two men to be seen about the town who have lost a hand as a punishment. Sometimes a fine is inflicted, but generally the culprit is let off after a few days in the stocks.

It is an interesting fact, that the sultan and many of the older men always fix an event by saying this occurred before or after the fall of ashes, referring to that awful eruption which took place in April, 1815, when the mountain of Timboro in Sambawa burst forth and covered every country near with a fall of ashes. Sir Stamford Raffles has given a graphic account of it in his “History of Java”, and I only mention the fact now, as Brunei, where some of the ashes fell, must be above nine hundred miles from the volcano. At Sarawak it is also constantly referred to.

I have described in a previous chapter the appearance of the river, but I have not mentioned that here I have most often heard the singing or hummingfish, which sticks to the bottom of the boats, and produces a sound something like that of a Jew’s-harp struck slowly, though sometimes it increases in loudness so as to resemble the full sound and tones of an organ. My men have pointed me out a fish about four inches long as the author of the music. It is marked with alternate stripes of black and yellow across the back.

They have a curious method of catching prawns in this river: a man sits in the stern of a canoe, a little on one side, so as to make its edge towards the bank almost on a level with the water, and but a foot from the mud. On the same side he has an immense comb fastened at the stern, which, at an angle, stretches beyond the bows of the canoe, and sweeps the bank. The prawns congregating at the very edge of the mud, make a spring to avoid the teeth of the comb; and in doing so, nearly always fall into the boat. The comb is simply a long bamboo, with holes drilled into one side, into which are inserted pieces of thin bamboo or wood about two feet long at the farther end, and gradually lessening as they approach the fisherman.

I may also mention that the Malays are very fond of the following sport. They collect many hundred bundles of the roots of the tuba-plant, and beat them out in their canoes, keeping them wet, and permitting the juice, which has an intoxicating property, to flow into the bottom of their boats. When they have sufficient, they throw it into the water at the mouths of the rivers just at the turn of the flood-tide; and the fish, feeling its effects, either rise to the surface completely intoxicated, or, in the case of the large ones, sufficiently stupefied to be easily speared. It is an exciting sport when several hundred men in light canoes are engaged in it. It is a superstition that while they are occupied in this amusement, should a boat pass the mouth of the river, and the crew beat the water with their paddles, the tuba would lose its intoxicating power.