Chapter Thirty.
When we arrived at the village, I observed that the warriors did not bring in the heads with them, but deposited them at some little distance outside the stockade. The truth was, I found, that the entrance of such trophies was considered far too important to take place without the observance of due ceremony. A temporary shed had been erected for them, under which they were hung up and carefully watched by a party of young men, habited in their finest costume.
The next morning there was a loud beating of gongs in the kampong, or village, and shouting and shrieking from the whole population, as the warriors were seen approaching, each carrying his bloody trophy before him, and dancing and singing at the same time. As they entered the kampong, they were met by the women, who crowded round the heads, and put ciri and betel-nut in the gaping mouths. In this way they were carried round from house to house, and then hung up in a large open shed to dry for several days. Here the heads were watched by young boys of from six to ten years old, who, for the whole time the process of drying occupied—from seven to ten days—were never allowed to step out of the hall, or neglect their sacred trust. This was the commencement of their initiation in the endurance of hardships, that they also might become warriors. Night after night the men used to meet in front of the hall, dancing and singing, and beating their gongs. They used to address their heads, taunting them, telling them that they were their slaves, and that they must send the rest of their tribe to be treated in the same manner. These very men, however, savage as they were, treated us with great kindness, and seemed anxious to do all they could to please us. Blount spent the greater part of every day with us, and gave me much information about the country. I told him that I was very anxious to obtain tidings of my schooner, and the friends on board her, and equally so to get away.
“So, my dear fellow, am I,” he answered, making a long face; “but the truth is, my friends here are so fond of us they will not let us go. I have tried on several occasions to escape; but they always gave me a strong hint to stop.”
“How was that?” I asked.
“Why, they shut me up, and would not let me out till I promised to be good.”
“Then you really think we are prisoners here!” I exclaimed.
“Indeed I do,” he answered. “I did not mention it before, because there is a good deal in the fancy of the thing. When you thought that you were waiting for a vessel to carry you off, you were content; now that you discover that you are likely to be detained by force, you grow indignant.”
“It will never do to remain here,” I said. “We must forthwith find some means of escaping.”