LIFE IN THE FORESTS
OF
THE FAR EAST.

F. Jones, lith.

Day & Son, Lith^rs to the Queen

Published by Smith, Elder & C^o. 65 Cornhill, London

SHOOTING THE CATARACT—LIMBANG RIVER.

LIFE IN THE FORESTS
OF
THE FAR EAST.

BY

SPENSER ST. JOHN, F.R.G.S., F.E.S.,

FORMERLY H.M.’S CONSUL-GENERAL IN THE GREAT ISLAND OF BORNEO,
AND NOW
H.M.’s CHARGÉ D’AFFAIRES TO THE REPUBLIC OF HAYTI.

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.

M.DCCC.LXII.

[The right of Translation is reserved.]

CONTENTS.

APPENDICES.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II.

LIFE IN THE

FORESTS OF THE FAR EAST.

CHAPTER I.
EXPEDITIONS TO EXPLORE THE INTERIOR TO THE SOUTH AND SOUTH-EAST OF THE CAPITAL.

Preliminary Expeditions—The Limbang River—Stories connected with it—The Madalam—River flowing under a Pile of Rocks—Caverns—Batu Rikan—The River issuing from under the Mountain of Molu—Ascend the Precipices—No Water—Long Roots—No Soil—Second Expedition—A Flood—Dangerous Position—Wakeful Night—Beautiful Flowers—Palms and Rhododendrons—Old Kayan Encampment—Detached Rocks—Ascent of Molu—Two new Species of Nepenthes—Difficult Climbing—New Rhododendrons—Stopped by a Precipice—Sharp-edged Rocks—Descent—Limestone Rock—Cave—Heavy Rain—Swollen River—Quick Return—Prepare for a distant Expedition—Alarm of the Brunean Government—Warnings—Preparations—Boats—My Headman Musa—A Travelled Dayak—Stories of Molu—Weapons—Merchandise.

In December, 1856, I made a short excursion up the Limbang River, and the wonders there told of its far interior strongly excited my curiosity. The natives were full of stories of the river forcing its way for miles under huge masses of rock, which formed a natural tunnel, called by the Malays “Batu berkejang,” or stone-roofed; of a cataract formed by the whole river falling over a ledge of rocks for a depth of nine fathoms; of the smooth water beyond this which stretched for a seven days’ journey, flowing gently through a vast table-land; of the tame goats without masters which thronged this region—but I could find no one who had seen any of these wonders—in fact, few Malays had passed Suñgei Damit, a river about three days’ journey from the capital.

In the following September I went with a small party up the right-hand branch of the river, the Madalam, to endeavour to reach the lofty mountain of Molu, and found that one of the stories told by the natives had some foundation. We followed the Madalam till we reached the Trunan on the eighth day, up which we pushed, thinking it led to the base of the highest peak of Molu. We soon came upon limestone rock, and after a few miles were suddenly stopped by the river, I may say, disappearing. We found a rocky eminence before us, its sharp angles concealed by ferns and climbing plants falling in festoons around, and a luxuriant vegetation of trees, whose bark was coated with mosses, orchids, and other epiphytal plants. There was an arched cavern into which we pushed our boats; at first we failed to find the inlet through which the stream entered, but at last, looking down into the clear water, we saw two huge holes below—the passages from whence the river came. We went round to the southern side of the rock, and there we found the river coming purling along to this lofty wood-crowned mass of limestone, and then entering a spacious hall it was lost, descending, as it were, to the passages before mentioned. There were various chambers with water floors, to the surface of which fine fish occasionally arose. This place is called Batu Rikan.

T. Picken, lith.

Day & Son, Lith^rs. to the Queen.

Published by Smith, Elder & C^o. 65, Cornhill, London.

THE TRUNAN ISSUING FROM BATU BARIT MOUNTAIN.

We stayed here a night, during which it rained heavily, making the stream that yesterday but washed our ancles, swell so that it was impossible to cross it. We therefore kept along the right bank, till we reached the spot where the whole river issued from the face of the precipice; it was a fine sight, this body of water running impetuously from this natural tunnel. On either side lofty trees arose, and above the precipice the green verdure spread in masses.

Our Bisayan guide, the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, of the village of Blimbing, told us that during fine weather, we could penetrate a long distance under the mountain, though few had ever ventured to do so, on account of the very sudden way in which the water rises. Finding we could not cross the stream near the mountain, we skirted the precipice, which the Bisayas told us it was impossible to climb; but I determined on making the attempt, not crediting the truth of one of their objections that we should find no water on the mountain after the heavy rain which fell the previous night.

I led the way up the rock by a most difficult ascent, and after climbing these perpendicular precipices by means of the roots of trees, at length reached easier ground, but found the whole mountain a mass of honeycombed limestone rock, with trees scattered over the uneven surface, whose roots penetrated to an immense distance below. I endeavoured, by descending into the deep fissures, to find some water, and in doing so, traced a root above two hundred feet; it then entered a narrow crevice, too small to admit me; the root was still larger than my arm.

As there is no real soil on the mountain, this fine vegetation must derive its support from the air, the moisture in the thick moss, and the rotting leaves which sometimes lay in tangled damp masses, almost decayed into a black mould. We climbed about a thousand feet, but found no streams or pools, and were therefore compelled to descend. On our return to the Capital, we had the misfortune to lose my boat on a snag, and had a three days’ walk in the jungle through difficult sandstone mountains, and then we constructed a raft and floated down the river, till we met the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, whom I had sent for relieving boats.

In February, 1858, Mr. Low and I again attempted the ascent of Molu, taking the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang as our guide, though neither he nor any one else knew more of the mountain than they had gathered during my former journey.

On the sixth day we reached the entrance of the Madalam without difficulty, and brought up for the night on a bank of gravel and pebbles, where there were traces of coal among the hard gray sandstone nodules, and broken quartz. All the country we had hitherto seen belongs to the Labuan coal measures, and the dip is steep, about 45°, and is to the east of north.

In the evening, heavy rain came on, when the river began to rise rapidly, and rush by us with a strong current. The men had pitched their tents on the pebbly bank, while we stayed in the boats; we had had a heavy day’s work, and our followers were so fatigued that they fell asleep immediately. The rain continued pouring down. About two hours after sunset I heard a shout, and found the water was overflowing the tents, and rushing down the opposite side of the river like a mill sluice, carrying along with it huge trunks of trees. With extreme difficulty we awoke the men, and it was a work of greater difficulty to keep them from getting into the boats before they were properly secured. I jumped out, and soon discovered the reason; the water coming from the lofty heights of Molu was icy cold; my teeth chattered so that I could scarcely give an order, and the river rose so fast, that very soon it was impossible to remain on the bank.

We none of us slept that night, our boats swayed to and fro in the angry waters which now rushed impetuously over the point, and knowing that we had but a small rope holding us, we feared every moment to see it part and find our boats dashed over a neighbouring fall. In the morning we observed by rough measurement that the water had risen twenty-four feet. As the river continued too rapid to be contended against, we employed next day in manufacturing strong rattan ropes. It took us five days more to reach our camping-ground at the foot of the mountain, a journey which in ordinary times might have been done in two.

We passed during our advance up the Madalam many curious and beautiful plants; among others, a very elegant little palm, with finely-divided pinnated leaves, and a stem about a foot high; it grew in tufts on the banks, within the influence of the rise of the waters. Mr. Low found also a beautiful climber with white flowers, in bunches, on the axils of the leaves, with a very fragrant scent; and also a curious rhododendron, with terminal single pale yellow flowers an inch and a half across on pendent branching stems, epiphytal in moss on many of the trees overhanging the water; but what I admired most was a rhododendron with large bunches of straw-coloured blossoms. It grew on the trees, and the flower, as it gracefully bent over us, looked both showy and beautiful. Here, too, Mr. Low discovered three new species of the areca palm, and was enabled to secure the seeds of two: one of them had a curious mottled foliage, another had a dark green stem, with white sheaths to the leaves, which were most delicately fashioned, the leaflets being linear, and not more than an eighth of an inch broad. I may further notice that at the mouth of the Limbang River grows in the marshes a beautiful fan-palm, which at a distance might, from its size, be mistaken for a fine cocoa-nut tree.

We reached the Batu Rikan in safety, and passed round it, through a small rivulet, improved into a sort of canal by the Kayans, above which we brought up at an old Kayan encampment on the left. We had here a good view of the range, which is a mass of limestone, and the ascent to the summit is at an angle of 70°; impossible to ascend over any other kind of rock than limestone, the water-worn surfaces of which usually present so many prominent points as to render these precipices practicable. The mountain appears to be covered with vegetation to the precipitous summit, and even on the almost bare rocks shrubs could be seen clinging to the crevices.

Round the base of the mountain are detached masses of limestone, much water-worn, with caverns and natural tunnels, with the ground around covered by the tracks of pigs and deer. At the base of the mountain the soil is a yellow loam, with many water-worn sandstone pebbles on its surface.

I do not intend dwelling on this expedition, as I only kept an account of the geographical features of the country, though Mr. Low has kindly placed his interesting journal at my disposal to refresh my memory. I will, however, briefly indicate the character of the mountain.

We left our encampment and struck through the jungle to a spot that a previous examination made me consider the easiest way to pass the precipices. The rocks looked like broken masses which had fallen from above, presenting sharp points and edges dangerous to our unshod men. It was climbing, not walking, our hands being as much used as our feet. We ascended about 800 feet, when we found ourselves on a sharp edge with a valley beyond, and then descended about forty feet by means of roots, and after a painful advance made preparations to pass the night there, as our men were lagging. We could, however, nowhere find a smooth place broad enough to set up our tents; so threw poles across the rocks and heaped boughs and leaves on them, and on sticks above spread our piled cotton tents.

We advanced next day over rather easier ground, and found more vegetable mould between the rocks; the trees were large, and among them I had seen on the previous day troops of reddish monkeys, equal in size to the small kind of orang-utan. We could find no water except such as could be obtained from squeezing the moss, or from the pitchers of two new kinds of nepenthes. It was on the third day that Mr. Low came upon them, after passing a deep gorge, and up a steep and fatiguing ascent over craggy cliffs, everything being covered with long wet moss. There were two kinds; the specimens, unfortunately, were lost by the men:—the first was shaped something like a claret jug, with a quadrilateral stem, and was of a pale green, except on the inside of the pitcher, which was purplish—the pitchers themselves were about ten inches long, and did not show the lower part in perfection except when full-grown. The next kind was growing half buried beneath the moss, and creeping closely along the stems of trees; its pitchers had a very peculiar mouth, with an edge like a frill. Its stem was rough with brown hairs, the leaves broad and short, and it was distinguished from all others we had yet seen, by the leaves, which are close above one another, giving off always to the right and left, and not on all sides of the stem as in the other species; they lie also very close; its stem was at most three feet long; the pitcher was about nine inches in length, not including the lid.

Mr. Low, the Orang Kaya, and myself, led our party, but the ascent was getting worse every yard. We worked our way over the most dangerous places, where a false step would have broken our necks or limbs, or have cut us to pieces on the sharp rocks; as we advanced, precipices and broad deep fissures became more frequent, one of the latter we crossed on a small tree four inches in diameter, which the Orang Kaya felled for the purpose. It bent beneath us, and was so uncertain a footing, that I was thankful to have passed it, as the deep chasm below was filled with jagged rocks. The Malay description of it is true—“sharp axes below, and pointed needles above, such is the mountain of Molu.”

It is curious that although we were only 3,500 feet above the level of the sea, this region resembled what is found on Kina Balu at from 5,000 to 8,000 feet, where shrubs with beautiful flowers abound.

Mr. Low discovered two very interesting little rhododendrons here. They were epiphytal, of a character different from any he had seen elsewhere; they had short brown lanceolate leaves, almost an inch long, in whorls of four or five, on branching brownish stems. Their flowers were terminal and solitary, and about an inch and a half long; one was whitish, the other a pinkish purple, and both were remarkably pretty.

I was leading the way, when I saw a precipice before me which appeared to be impassable; it ran across the spur we were ascending, and extended to the ravines on either side. At last we noticed a narrow fissure, and by supporting myself on the sharp points of rocks, and steadying myself by a small root, I reached to within six feet of the top. To get up the rest of the way was not very difficult, but to get down again appeared unpleasant, and beyond rose a succession of precipices. As the side of the mountain was at an angle of 70°, it was easy to see a long way ahead of us. As I stood balancing myself, it struck me as an impossibility to take loaded men up such places, so I hailed Mr. Low, who was already commencing the ascent of the precipice, to stop till I came down to consult. Two of my most active men, Musa and another, volunteered to go ahead and explore, and we waited for them at the foot of the precipice, and took observations.

It is almost impossible to conceive the difficulty of ascending this mountain. While we were waiting here, a comparatively smooth spot, we could find no place broad enough for the stand of the barometer, but were obliged to construct a framework of sticks. No ledge was more than six inches broad, and Mr. Low made me nervous by walking out on some not an inch wide whilst in search of flowers or shells. In fact, at one place my shoe was cut through, and three of our men had already been sent back with severe wounds, whilst several of those left were much injured.

Musa at last joined us with the intelligence that about one hundred yards beyond there was a precipice, which he and his companion had found it impossible to pass; so, very unwillingly, we turned our faces homeward.

Descending was more dangerous than ascending, and Mr. Low got two severe falls, as his eyes were not always on the next spot to place his foot, but wandering about in search of plants. I escaped better, as my thoughts were engrossed by the difficulties and dangers of the path. It is curious that when these sharp rocks were struck they gave out a clear ringing, almost metallic, sound; there is no appearance of stratification: the rocks are of a fine-grained limestone, and some, when broken, presented a pinkish, others a whitish or grayish blue colour.

We noticed during our ascent a cave in the limestone rock about forty feet high, and the roots of the trees growing on the rock above came down perpendicularly and passed into the fissures in the stones that formed the floor. Their upper parts were encrusted with carbonate of lime in the form of stalactites. Water was continually dripping from the roof of the cave, and in one place had collected in a little basin, the only time we saw any pure water on the mountain.

The following day we reached our tents and enjoyed a good dinner, after four days on biscuits and plain boiled rice. In the evening there came on a thunderstorm, and the rain fell in a manner I have never before known even in Borneo; it appeared to be coming down in tubsfull instead of drops.

We attempted next day to go and examine the Batu Rikan, but the rush of waters prevented our approaching it; in fact, the roar of the river, as it dashed into the caves and whirled its spray into the air, made us take precautions not to be swept into the boiling cauldron.

Our return was easy, as the river had risen enough to cover all the rapids, so that their presence was only marked by the increased velocity of the water; but when we joined the Limbang it became more sluggish, and after Sungei Damit its speed had lessened from five knots to one knot per hour.

These preliminary expeditions accomplished, having heard that I could procure Murut guides, I determined to explore the main stream of the Limbang, which evidently penetrated a long distance into the interior. The ostensible object of the expedition was to reach those Muruts who formerly lived upon the Adang, one of the tributaries of the Limbang, but had now been driven away beyond the mountains by repeated attacks of the Kayans. This was very vague information, but it was the best I could procure.

The Bornean Government, on hearing of my intention to start, was filled with uneasiness, and earnestly requested me to forego my intention. The Sultan and Pañgeran Tumanggong were especially anxious, as they feared some accident would happen; they talked of the head-hunting Kayans, the wandering Pakatans with their poisoned arrows, the interior filled with strange aborigines who had never seen a white man or even a Malay, and the dangers of the river that imperilled our boats, and the wanderings in the jungle that threatened starvation. The last two were especially dwelt upon, as they reminded me of my former misadventure in returning from Molu. They little thought that their descriptions of the interior (from hearsay) only added to my desire to be away exploring. I knew that all the threatened dangers really existed, but I determined to take every precaution, and trust the rest to that fortune which had ever befriended me in my former journeys.

It being uncertain how long I might be away, it was necessary to take a large supply of food and ammunition. We prepared two boats, and both were heavily laden; the first was a garei, a long canoe with raised sides and regular timbers, forty-five feet by five, flat-bottomed, not drawing above eighteen inches, with all her crew and stores on board. She was commanded by a man I have often had occasion to mention, Musa, a native of the Philippines, not above five feet one inch in height, but sturdily and strongly built. The crew consisted of ten men, half of whom were tried followers. An accompanying tender, containing six men, was only suited for smooth water, being totally unfitted for the rapids we should find in the interior, but it was our intention to change it when we reached the Murut villages.

In this boat was Japer, the most remarkable man of the whole party. I met him at the village of Blimbing during my first attempt to ascend Molu, and he was full of stories. I learned that he belonged originally to the wandering Pakatans, but had been converted to Islamism. He appeared to have been quite a traveller, having visited Penang, Malaka, Batavia, and Sarawak. He was familiar with the English conquest of Java, and talked fluently of Lord Minto. I had been so accustomed to look upon the great French war as a thing of the past, that I could scarcely bring myself to believe that this man could have seen Lord Minto at Malaka or Penang in 1811, but considering he was at least sixty-three when I first saw him in 1857, there was really nothing surprising in it.

He also abounded with accounts of Molu; having been at its base several times, though he had never attempted to ascend it. But he told us stories of the dwarfs who inhabited the caves, of big eggs which ten men could not lift; but what particularly fixed the attention of his native audience was the account of a sight witnessed by a Tutong man. He said that one day he was seeking edible nests in holes round the base of the mountain, when, being tired, he fell asleep in a cleft in the side of a large cavern. He was awoke by lights flashing in his eyes, and peering from his hiding-place, saw a long procession of supernatural beings pass slowly by him, each carrying a torch, and there was one to whom they all paid respect. He was too frightened to remember the particulars, but he thinks they were dressed in flowing robes.

Some of my men were in hopes these fearful stories would have deterred me from my design to explore the mountain; but on my offering a reward to any one who would take me to the cave where these wonderful sights were seen, they saw ghosts did not daunt white men.

I took with me, also, my Chinese boy, Ahtan, to cook and wait upon me; he had behaved so well during our Kina Balu expeditions that I liked him to follow me.

As we might meet enemies we prepared a good stock of arms and ammunition. I took two double-barrels, one rifle, and one smooth bore—for general service in Borneo the latter is the best weapon of all—a single-barrelled rifle, an Adams’s revolving carbine, and a revolving pistol; for the men four long carbines, and a dozen flint muskets; the last we found much too heavy for carrying through the forests, and too cumbersome for boats.

Not knowing what kind of people we might meet, I embarked merchandise of many kinds—hatchets, cloths (yellow, black, red, and white), looking-glasses, agate and common beads; in fact, four times as much as was necessary. My instruments, tents, and baggage, were both weighty and occupied much room, so that when the crew entered the boat, with five-and-twenty days’ provisions on board, its gunwales were not many inches above the water.

CHAPTER II.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL.

Start—Discovery of Bones and ancient Ornaments—At the Site of the Old City—At the Stone Fort—At Sarawak—The Trusan, or connecting Passage—Apathy of the Government and People—Sago—Method of preparing it for the Market—The Limbang River—The Inhabitants—Winding Stream—The Orang Kaya Upit of Kruei—Sampirs—Gadong Hill—Scenery—Molu—The Raman Palm—Delays—Cholera—Orang Kaya Napur—Panglima Prang—The Weather—State of the River—Origin of the Ponds—Native Geographical Information—The Upper Country—Cataract—Enchanted Mountain—Native Travelling—Dreams and Omen Birds—Religion of Pakatans—Cause of Head-hunting—The Wild Boar—Trouble in procuring Guides—Pengkalan Tarap—Desolation of the Country—Causes of it—Selling Children—Kayan Barbarity—Chinese at Batang Parak—Site of Burnt Villages—Posts of Houses—Two kinds of Sago Palm—Their Growth—Kayan Encampment—Cultivation—The River—Rocks—Salt Springs—Native Explanation—Anecdote—Time to halt—Birds—Rare, except in certain Districts—Monkeys—Alligators—The Man-eater—A Challenge accepted—Disappearance of the Siol Alligator—Combat with two in a Cave—Method of Capturing them in Siam—Laying Eggs in the Jungle—Ducks and Drakes—Malay Cookery—Very tasty—Bachang—How to make a Curry—Anecdotes of Bornean Rule—Attack on the Limpasong Village—Insurrection of the Aborigines—Forced Trade—Qualities necessary in a Malay Ruler—The great Mountain of Tilong—Discomfort of possessing a large Diamond—Diamonds found in Borneo.

August 25th, 1858.—We started, and as we pulled through the town in the early morn crowds came to their doors to have a look at what they no doubt considered as a doomed party.

Our route, after leaving the houses, was up the Brunei river, till we reached a Trusan, or passage,[1] connecting it with the Limbang. We soon left the pretty scenery near the capital, and exchanged for it low banks, with mangrove swamp, occasionally varied by undulating dry land. After a two hours’ pull, we passed the graves of some rajahs on the left-hand bank; near them, it is reported, a great many bones are found scattered about; the natives say it was the site of a battle-field; gold ornaments are also occasionally discovered, but slightly covered with soil; it is very probable that a village once stood here.

These discoveries of ancient ornaments are events of not unfrequent occurrence. Some seven years ago a man was prawn-fishing with a casting-net, about two miles below the consulate, when he found some gold buttons entangled among the prawns; he instantly marked the place, and dived, and found several articles; the news spread like wildfire, and hundreds flocked to the spot; the mud was dug over in the neighbourhood to the depth of several feet, and the river raked with great care; it is reported that a large amount was found. I afterwards examined the spot; it proved to be the site of the ancient city of Burnei, of which Pigafetta speaks; it is now called Kota Batu, or the stone fort, on account of the foundations of some buildings that have been uncovered there. I must confess to great disappointment when I visited them; these ancient remains consisted of nothing but loose stones thrown into a long ditch about eighteen feet wide.

Great quantities of gold ornaments have likewise been discovered at the Santubong entrance of the Sarawak river; this was likewise the site of an old town. I tried on my last visit to find some to examine the workmanship, but most had been melted up, and the specimens purchased by Sir James Brooke were lost during the Chinese insurrection of 1857.

Half an hour afterwards we reached the Trusan, and entered it on our way to the Limbang; it took us two hours and a half to get through; the banks are low, at first mangrove, then slight openings showing small padi fields, then sago with lofty fruit-trees in the background. Nothing better exemplifies the character of this people and government than the Trusan we were passing through; in a straight line the distance cannot be three miles, yet nothing is done even to clear it of the obstruction of fallen trees, overhanging branches, and sharp turnings; occasionally it is not above six feet wide; hundreds pass through it every day; and though they have often to wait hours till the tide has risen sufficiently to float them over the obstructions, they will not combine to clear it: fifty men in a week could render it passable for large boats at half-tide, but there is no government for useful purposes, and no combination among the people.

We were very glad to get clear of this Trusan, and enter into an open space, a sort of long narrow lake connected with the main river by diminutive passages, enclosing the island of Pandam, a dense mass of sagotrees. Here there is some sign of life, many houses are scattered on the banks whose inhabitants are busy preparing the pith of the palm for transmission to the capital. We saw them to-day going through every stage, some were felling the tree, others clearing it of all its leaves and branches and dragging it to the water’s edge; rafts of prepared palms were floating down alone, but with certain marks to distinguish the owners. We landed at one spot and inquired the reason of this unusual bustle; the price had risen, and every one was anxious to take advantage of the market.

We had around us about a dozen men working; the trees, some of them fifty feet in length by two and a half in diameter, were first cut in sections of about a fathom, then split in two; the pith was scooped out, or rather chopped out with a scoop, as it was very hard and required great exertion to get it out; the women and children carried it to the river’s banks to a prepared framework, and threw the rough sago on a platform of split bamboos: here a man stood who, after wetting the stuff with pails’ full of water, trod out the flour into a receptacle below. It seemed a very wasteful process. The coarse sago is put into leaf cases and sold to the Chinese, who turn it into the flour and pearl of commerce.

Leaving the island of Pandam we joined the main stream, which was here about a hundred yards wide; the banks as we advanced presented the same features, low, with occasional hills to be seen, cultivation very rough and careless; the sago and rice the most valuable; the gardens were but poorly looked after, the chief attention being given to the banana. Occasionally there are very extensive groves of fruit-trees, but even these are choked with brushwood. Tame buffaloes are very numerous on the lower part of this river; we also saw a few cows, but until lately little attention was given to breeding them; now, however, that a steady demand has arisen in Labuan, many of the natives have been induced to collect herds.

After passing the Trusan no more Malay houses are to be seen; the inhabitants being the aborigines, the Bisayas, Muruts, and a few Kadayans; their villages occupy nearly every reach. A glance at the map will show what a winding course this river takes; the soil being alluvial offers no obstruction to its changing its direction, and there are many signs of its having altered its bed.

We pulled on to the village of Kruei (Argus pheasant), the residence of Orang Kaya Upit, a son of one of the Adang people, who had promised to accompany us. I had with me a chop or firman from the Sultan, in order to render my procuring guides a work of less difficulty, but, though not refusing, the Orang Kaya was unwilling to start immediately. It would have been very unreasonable of me to have expected a man to be ready at a day’s notice, but this Orang Kaya had settled for some months to accompany me. I agreed to stay a day, as I wished to procure a couple of light boats; in the evening a messenger arrived from the Sultan with orders for every assistance to be given me.[2]

26th.—As this was a day of enforced delay I determined to divide my men; some, under Musa, I sent away to purchase or borrow boats, called here sampirs; they are long and narrow, being simply a canoe, with a plank on either side tied on with rattans and then roughly caulked; they have a front and stem piece fastened in the same way; they are not strong, but are light and very suited to up-country work, varying in length from thirty to sixty feet, and in breadth from one and a half to three feet: as might be expected, they are any thing but stiff.

While Musa was away on this duty, I pulled back to the Gadong hills to take bearings. I was disappointed in not being able to distinguish Molu, but I had some good views of other mountain ranges. The appearance of the country from this elevation (682 feet) was very pretty; to the east of us were alternate diminutive plains and low hills, with rice fields whose bright green contrasted well with the sombre brushwood; farmhouses were scattered here and there; to the west it was but a confused mass of hills and valleys. The course of the river is clearly visible, with its extraordinary windings and its patches of cultivation scattered along its banks; even here in the neighbourhood of the capital two-thirds of the land is still jungle or brushwood.

Towards evening Musa returned, and I was glad to find that he had arranged to buy a sampir and borrow two more, and to leave our canoe behind.

27th.—This morning the peak of Molu was visible, and I immediately went ashore to get a good bearing, as the boat rocked too much to allow me to do it aboard. I find it 9° E. of S. The Adang Muruts give the name of Batu Barit to the mountain, or to one peak of it; Barit is the same as the Malay “berlukis,” ornamented; they say they call it by that name on account of some tracings observed on the rocks, probably fanciful, or from the stone being discoloured in various parts of the precipices. They talk also of a very large palm, the Riman, that grows in great plenty at the foot of the mountain; this yields in abundance a very superior kind of sago, but; baniak, “much,” has a very different signification in their mouths, it may mean a few trees scattered about, or a forest of palms.

Yesterday the Orang Kaya Upit went in search of the Merasam people, who had agreed to accompany the expedition; they are full of delays, but talk of following to-morrow: I shall push on to look for other guides in case these fail us; every day’s delay lessens our stock of food; I have tried to procure some rice in these villages, but nothing is to be had. In fact, they will seldom sell me any food, as the Borneans would make that an excuse to squeeze more out of them after my departure. The Orang Kaya has begged for one of my sampirs, and as it is on my business he is going, the request is but reasonable, so I have given him one, and also some cloth to procure provisions.

We pushed on at 9 A.M., and as we advanced we found all the villages deserted on account of the cholera; the visitation was nearly over, but the Muruts were too alarmed to return to their houses; as no one was to be found at Bidang, the residence of the Orang Kaya Napur, an Adang man, we continued our course to Danau, where it was said we should find him; but on arriving, we heard that he was some distance inland; I therefore sent old Japer to look for him.

5 P.M.—Here is the Orang Kaya Napur, but there is evidently no getting him to accompany us; he has many reasons for not going, some of them good ones; among others, he is planting his rice farm. I explained I only wanted a guide, not a train of followers. Towards evening my old friend Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, of the village of Blimbing, came to see me; he followed me to Molu in both of my former expeditions, and is half inclined to come now, but as he does not know the country beyond six days’ pull, he would not be very useful. He has deserted Blimbing, having too few followers to hold his own even against a small Kayan expedition, and so now he lives here until the Pañgeran Tumanggong can afford him some support, not very likely to be given at present. The cholera has attacked all the villages, but does not seem to have carried off many; the fright was great, and still continues, so that most of the people are yet living in the woods. All those who do not expect to be connected with my expedition, say that this is the proper season, and that the rain is exceptional, while the others whom I want to accompany me, assure me that by waiting two months I shall have fine weather. It certainly looks rainy, but we must do our best even if freshes do come down, and we may yet reach Adang by perseverance. This place is called Danau, on account of a diminutive lake, or large pond, that lies at the back of the village; the entrance, now dry, is at the end of the reach ahead.

28th.—Last night a heavy squall, which appeared to spring from the south-east, but soon veered round to the south-west, made me fear a fresh in the morning, but (7 a.m.) as yet it has not come down upon us. There is much matter held in suspension by the water, as every glass of it we take from the river proves; this, however, appears its normal state, as I have seen it the same at different seasons, as in October, November, December, May, and now, August; not exactly the same, as the water after heavy freshlets is muddy. The banks appear to be generally formed of alluvial deposits; occasionally only have I observed hard banks of clay, and nowhere are there rocks, except where a hill abuts on the river. At the entrance of the Limbang there are many alluvial deposits, and two low islands called Pulau Bharu, or the new islands, are said by the natives to have been formed within the memory of their old men; they are but little raised above high-water mark, and are excellent rice grounds.

A glance at the map will show the serpentine course of the Limbang, and how the river is eating into its banks; in several places they are nearly worn through. I imagine (and examination almost confirms it) that the origin of the numerous ponds to be found a short distance from the banks arises from the alteration of the river’s bed. There is in the Sarawak river a short cut between two reaches, which appears within a few years likely to become the main stream—nature assisted by man: sandbanks are already forming, which yearly tend to increase the force of the current through the short passage, and will doubtless ultimately close up the old channel, leaving a lake of a couple of miles in length on the right bank.

I may here notice, in order to test the value of native geographical information, the various accounts I have received of the journey before us. Casting aside the stories of its being one, two, or three months’ distance, I will simply enter what I have reduced to something like reason. They say from Blimbing to Madalam is two days’ pull; to Salindong, two; to Madihit, two; to Busoi or Saledan, three; to Adang, seven, or sixteen days from the last inhabited village (since abandoned) to the Adang landing-place: from that to the houses, from one to six days.

I do not understand the great discrepancy in the land journey, except that the Adangs have removed farther inland. It is certainly a voyage of discovery, but my only anxiety is with respect to the provisions. From the amount of water that was in the river above Madalam, I cannot think it so far. Busoi appears to mean a cataract, and there, they say, the river falls over rocks, and the boats have to be dragged along the shore for a distance which varies with the stories from fifty yards to a mile. Enormous overhanging rocks occur at the cataract, almost shutting in the river, but above it the water is smooth, and the pulling easy for seven days; this is not very likely. The river is said to abound in fine fish. The story of the wild goats is beginning to fade away, and is replaced by tame ones in the possession of the Muruts. One of the greatest curiosities, the natives say, is the formation of two mountains, which rise from the plain in lofty peaks of the shape of needles; they have never been to them, but have seen them from a distance; they are the pillars of the gate of some enchanted palace, and I heard it whispered to one of my men that all were not privileged to see even these pillars; it requires some incantation; so that there is a chance of the needle mountains vanishing into thin air.

I may remark that when the natives speak of the journey sometimes occupying two or three months, they mean for a Murut party. The reason is that they start with, perhaps, two days’ provisions, and trust to hunting for their food. If they find a spot where game is plentiful, they stay there till it is exhausted; if the jungle produce no sport, they live on the cabbages taken from the palms, on the edible fern, on snakes, or anything, in fact, that they can find. If they come across bees’ nests, they stop to secure the wax and honey. Time is of no value to them, as they generally start after the harvest, and many parties are said to have taken six months.

It is curious to hear the Islam-converted old Pakatan Japer talk. He says dreams were sent by God to be a teaching and a warning to us; when he is going up a river on an expedition, if he dream of his wife or of his children, or of ascending a river, it is good; if of descending a river, or of fire, or of anything disagreeable, he is sure to meet an enemy or some misfortune. If his añgei, or omen bird, cry to the right, it is good luck; his cried to the right when he left Kanowit eight years ago, and he has not had a misfortune since. I asked him how it came to pass then that his house was plundered and burnt down by the Kayans last year; he was silenced for a moment, and having waited till the men had had their laugh, he said his people considered it a punishment for living among the bad Tabuns;[3] however, the Pakatans have avenged him by burning down a Kayan village.

It is two p.m., and no sign of Orang Kaya Upit yet; this delay is very provoking, as we can get no provisions here. Last night, at six, I sent a party with Orang Kaya Napur down the river to find Kadayan, an Adang man, and try and induce him to follow us; he promises to come in the morning. We had a long talk last night about various matters. Old Japer was telling us of the belief of the wild tribes. Having been converted, however, he laughs at the follies of his countrymen, and therefore spoils his narration. His conversion, however, is but skin deep. He says they believe in antus, or spirits, one of whom is far greater than the rest; he it was who “made the woods, the mountains, and the streams, and is above all and over all.” The Pakatans call him Guha, the Kayans, Totaduñgan.

He denies that head-hunting is a religious ceremony among them; it is merely to show their bravery and manliness, that it may be said so and so has obtained heads; when they quarrel, it is a constant phrase, “How many heads did your father or grandfather get?” If less than his own number, “Well, then, you have no occasion to be proud!” That the possession of heads gives them great consideration as warriors and men of wealth; the skulls being prized as the most valuable of goods. “Alas! when I was a Kapir (infidel) I took more than forty heads,” hypocritical sorrow, but real pride, in his tone. He adds that hunting is the greatest pleasure of the wild tribes, and that the wild boar is exceedingly fierce, and makes a good fight; it requires much skill to conquer him. “It is a delight for me to look back on my hunting days.” The China trader that lives at the Pangkalan Tarap came and promised his assistance in getting sago, which we must use as a substitute for rice.

29th.—A little rain last night, and a dirty-looking morning. No Orang Kaya Upit. We are now opposite the Chinaman’s house. I shall push on to-morrow morning, guide or no guide, and trust to their following us.

2 p.m.—Kadayan and a companion have come, and promise to be guides, but as they have to return to their houses, I have no confidence that they will follow, but only cause us fresh delays; however, as I have obtained a pikul[4] of raw sago, and seven gantangs[5] of beans, I can better afford to wait. They put every difficulty in the way, and lie like troopers as to the distance, declaring it to be a journey of six months for us who take food; they say, also, that they are in debt at Adang, and in debt here. I have given each a piece of blachu,[6] to buy food for their families; and I have sent a crew away to try and borrow a couple of sampirs.

30th.—This morning the lazy Orang Kaya Upit joined us with three men; their omen bird, they said, had uttered a warning cry, and they had been unable to join me before, an excuse to which I am now somewhat used.

I am going to try and perform the journey in my own garei, as I can find no more sampirs at these villages to buy or borrow, and with a little extra trouble she will do, and be twice as comfortable for me. Were we to be utterly stopt, the men say we can make some bark canoes for those that cannot get into the sampirs.

Pangkalan Tarap is becoming an important village, as by orders of the Pañgeran Tumanggong the people are collecting there to show a better fight to the Kayans, and now number “two hundred men who can hold a shield.” The detached house system, so progressive with security, does not answer in a country exposed to periodical incursions. It is lamentable to see this fine district, once well cultivated, now returning to brushwood; formerly, when the population extended a hundred miles beyond the last village at present inhabited, the supply of provisions was ample for Brunei; now that the Muruts are decreasing, while Brunei is perhaps as numerous as ever, the demands made are too great even for native forbearance, and in disgust they are gradually abandoning all garden cultivation; already brushwood is taking the place of bananas and yams; few of either can now be had. The people say it is useless for them to plant for others to eat the whole produce.

The aborigines must gradually disappear from this river if the same process continues, as with food becoming daily scarcer, the area of cultivation continually lessened, as they fear to move far from their houses except in large armed parties, on account of the head-hunting Kayans, their powers of natural increase must be stopped; add to this their losses from cholera, small-pox, and the enemy, and we have sufficient data to speculate on their eventual extermination from the Limbang. They are gradually retreating down the river; twenty miles of bank have been abandoned during the last two years.

Nor must it be omitted, that as the nobles are yearly less enabled to obtain supplies from them, they are selling their children by dozens into slavery, which enables Brunei to keep up its population. Directly they arrive there, they are circumcised, and from that moment care no more for their tribes, whom they despise as infidels, and they then may be said to have joined the ranks of the oppressors. No lad could well refuse to turn Mahomedan; he would be teased to death by his companions, and if he long retained any affection for his family, he would be ashamed to show it. Generally they are taken away young, and the girls added to the numerous concubines of the rajahs: after a year or two they get tired of them, and give them in marriage to their followers.

At the back of this village is a large pond, and beyond there is another of far greater extent, which they consider a great protection against surprise. I am nursing my feet, much knocked about in ascending Kina Balu, so do not land to examine. Obtained two pikuls more of sago.

We are pulling up quietly; passed Pangkalan Jawa. The Limbuak peak bears about W. by S. At the back of the houses, at the foot of the Ladan range, Orang Kaya Kiei and his family were cut off in a farmhouse by the Kayans last February. The Kayans set fire to the rice stalks under the house, and as the family rushed out they were killed; a few, who either saw the fall of their companions, or were bewildered by the smoke, stayed in the house and were burnt to death; ten women and children lost their lives. The mode of death is conjectured from finding seven headless trunks at the doorway, and four bodies charred, without losing their heads. The summit of the Ladan range presents many instances of extensive landslips. Stayed for bearings at Tampasong. I find but few changes will be necessary in my previous map, in fact, except in the position of the ranges, which I am carefully taking, it will not be essentially improved as far as refers to the direction of the reaches; but as to their length, I think many we have passed to-day will require shortening. We were here joined by Kadayan and Si Nuri, two Adang men.

5 p.m.—I am delighted to find myself at Batang Parak, long past the last houses, and above sixty miles from Brunei. Batang Parak was formerly inhabited by Chinese, who cultivated pepper; the Malays say that they gradually died out, no fresh immigrants coming to recruit their strength, and some of the older Muruts remembered them well, and could repeat their names. Casual observations, however, prove that the above was not the way in which the Chinese always disappeared, as on passing the Madalam, a Bisaya chief pointed to a hill; formerly, he said, the Chinese built a fort there, but they were attacked and all killed.

But to return. I can now settle matters myself, and have nobody to wait for. At about four, the rain and wind came in great force from the S.W., which is a little unpleasant, but I hope it will not affect the river above the Madalam. Slight rain continues. The men are on shore, searching for vegetables, pumpkins, cucumbers, and fruit at the site of the Tabun village, burnt down last year by the Kayans. The plants grew up in great strength round the ruins, and afford supplies to every visitor. This is the fourth time we have helped ourselves, but to-day the pig-hunters having been before us, there are but few left. The fruit-trees are covered with a young crop, but none are ripe; everything, however, is eagerly appropriated by my men, who have brought but little to eat with their rice. I leave off my journal to turn to a miserable dinner of dried fish and stale bread, there being no time to cook, but a bottle of porter made it palatable.

I noticed when passing the deserted village of Blimbing, which was formerly the residence of my old friend, the Orang Kaya Panglima Prang, that even the old posts of the houses were removed; the reason is this, that being made of iron wood they will last for a century. In fact, in many of the villages they have them, descended, it is said, from a long line of ancestors, and these they remove with them wherever they may establish themselves. Time and wear have reduced many of them to less than five inches in diameter, the very heart of the tree, now black with age and exposure.

When I first ascended the Limbang, and spent a few days at the village of Blimbing, I found a large party of armed men assembled who were preparing to collect sago palms, which grow in immense forests at the foot of the Ladan range. They fell the palms there, and clearing them of leaves, drag them to the banks of the small streams, and float them to the village. They always say there are two species of sago palms, one covered with thorns, the other free; the former is more safe from the attacks of wild pigs, the latter perhaps more productive. Nature has indeed stocked these countries with easily acquired food, as this palm, for instance, though improved by cultivation, will yet reproduce itself in extraordinary abundance.

After the first three or four years, the freshly planted palm is surrounded by smaller ones springing from its roots, so that when the time has arrived to secure its sago, which is after about eight years, there is a crop of young ones approaching maturity; in fact, in a well managed and old established plantation, a tree can yearly be cut from the same clump. The natives know directly when the palm is ripe by the appearance of the flower, but if it be allowed to fruit, the whole pith is spoilt for the purposes of commerce. At present the trees in these districts are seldom permitted to pass their fifth year, as the aborigines fear to penetrate far into the forests, and trust to those which grow near the banks of the river.

31st.—Got away this morning at 6.20, and arrived at the end of the west reach, beyond Suñgei Damit at 9.25. Just above Suñgei Damit is the site of the great Kayan encampment. A force of above three thousand of these wild warriors, in March and April, 1857, kept the capital in a state of great alarm: and near here also, on the left bank, is a famous fish-pond, Luagan Kura, and on its banks are some grassy slopes, where the Tambadaus, or wild cattle, love to congregate. I may mention that Mr. De Crespigny reached this spot in 1857.

There is little to notice, except that the banks are generally flat, fringed with a low jungle, at the back of which the Muruts formerly farmed. A stranger passing up the river would be apt to infer that no population had tenanted this district for a century, as there are no signs of cultivation, but the natives generally prefer farming in spots not exposed to floods or intrusion. I have been out deer-snaring in this neighbourhood, which made me notice that at the back of the belt of jungle which lines the river banks there are signs of a former extensive rice-planting.

Sagan on the right bank is a fine hill, perhaps 1,500 feet in height; between it and Suñgei Damit is the low range of Rudi, running along the edge of one of the reaches, and terminating a little below the Damit. This tributary is now very low, there having been but little rain to the S. E., so that I hope the discoloured water of the Limbang comes from the Madalam branch. The water, however, is much higher than it was when we ascended the river last February, as the Batang rapids are concealed; these rapids are caused by a collection of logs, mixed with sand and mud, and extend for several hundred yards.

I noticed the rocks occasionally cropping out of the banks. At the mouth of the Damit I took the dip and strike: dip N. E. by N., angle 31·5; strike S. E. by E. There is a high peak to the southward (S. by E.) which is apparently the end of the Molu range; it bends, the natives say, towards the Limbang: if not, it is a separate range, but the same that I see from the back of the Consulate at Brunei. I think that the thousands of pigs which inhabit this jungle contribute to the discoloration of the water: every night they descend to the banks and rout up the soft mud into heaps, which are easily washed away by rain or the rise of the river.

The fish we have caught are all small, though there are fine ones in the centre of the stream where the net cannot be used: we see them occasionally rise to the surface, causing a great commotion.

Japer tells me that the people of Adang occasionally obtain their salt from traders of the east coast, but their usual supply is derived from salt springs, and this is confirmed by Orang Kaya Upit. Japer adds that, when head-hunting round the great mountain of Tilong, in the centre of Borneo, he saw a salt spring that burst from the ground in a volume of about fifteen inches in diameter, rising three feet, and then spreading in a shower around: this is the source, he says, of the Bangermasin, and the reason of its being so called (masin, briny). He thinks there must be a passage all the way from the sea to cause this salt spring, and no reasoning will convince him to the contrary: his companions confirm his belief by their implicit belief. There is also a large lake at the foot of Tilong; he saw it, but did not go near it, as it might be the residence of spirits.

At 11.20 we again got under way, and soon reached Naga Surei, the first stone rapid: to the Orang Kaya Upit this place had a fearful interest; some years since about a hundred of his countrymen came down the river to trade in wax, and on their return stopped at this pebbly bank to cook, and while a party went inland to hunt, others collected wood. Suddenly three or four hundred Kayans came sweeping round the point, and were on them before they could recover from their surprise; seventy lost their lives, but thirty escaped.

We stopped for the night at 1.45, as the men pulled too late yesterday, and we must prepare for the rapids and freshes that may be expected: so I have sent them in inland to collect poles, and rattans for making ropes to secure us at night during freshes. It is a good plan whilst travelling in Borneo to make it a general rule to stop by 2 p.m., as one is never sure of not having showery weather after that, and unless the men have proper time to erect the tents and prepare the evening meal whilst fine, they don’t work willingly. (This journey will show what exceptions are required to general rules.) The sky is covered with broken clouds, with occasional patches of blue. I am afraid we shall have more rain, and the river is high enough already, though that is better than being very low until we get into the interior, where the rush of waters after heavy rain is terrific.

I think a traveller in Borneo will notice how few spots there are where birds are to be observed; whilst writing this line a little bird has perched itself before me, and by its song would induce me to alter what I have written, but notwithstanding this appeal, I reiterate that birds are but seldom seen. At certain hours and places a few pigeons or doves, more rarely crows; along the banks an occasional wagtail or kingfisher, and a songster in the trees above sometimes attracts your attention. A solitary teal now and then rises from the least frequented rivers, and the kite sails slowly above us.

Hornbills are seen round mountains, and sparrows abound in grassy plains near the sea; some species are now and then abundant, as a white crane (padi bird, or Kanawei), and various kinds of curlew (pimpin), but on the whole, birds are rare. In some districts pheasants and partridges are caught in snares, but as they are birds which merely run along the surface of the ground, flying being almost out of the question in the thick underwood, they are only noticed when brought in by the natives. Monkeys in the northern part of Borneo are also rarely observed. In the Limbang river I have seen but few: an occasional baboon, a few wawahs in the Madalam branch, and a large reddish monkey at about 1,000 feet up Molu. At Kina Balu I do not remember any. In Sarawak, however, they are plentiful.

Pigs are very numerous here, and wild cattle and deer are also abundant. We have as yet seen no traces of alligators, though in the Madalam branch they are said to abound, and last spring I saw a very large one; it was a disgusting-looking object, a great fat slimy-looking thing,—a tail stuck on a hogshead. They are not, however, dreaded, as they can obtain a very plentiful supply of food from the pigs which constantly swim from bank to bank. Otherwise, it would be unpleasant to have to steer a boat, as the man-devouring reptile strikes his victim from the stern with a blow of his tail. This happened to an unfortunate Malay in the Siol branch of the Sarawak, who was pulling up that river with his wife in a small canoe.

The death of this man drew attention to the monster alligator I have previously referred to, and Mr. Crookshank and Sadam, a very courageous Malay, went down to place a bait on the banks of the Siol. When this was done, they pulled back, Mr. Crookshank steering. They had seen nothing of their enemy, so that Sadam jumped up, and, flourishing his spear, began in a loud voice to defy the alligator, using very insulting terms. Suddenly he dropt his weapon and seizing his paddle, began pulling away with might and main, for the animal had just risen to the surface of the water not twenty yards from the boat.

Though the steersman’s position was by no means an agreeable one, Mr. Crookshank could not help laughing at the change of countenance of his companion, who excused himself by saying it was the suddenness of his challenge being accepted that made him pull away in an excited manner. “But now,” he added, rising to his feet, “let him show himself again, and I will not attempt to run.” He had scarcely uttered the words, when the alligator, which was accustomed to follow boats, again rose to the surface. There was no more boasting, but a frantic attempt to get out of the Siol branch.

The alligator took the bait, but got rid of the long rattan fastened to it, by accidentally or purposely winding it round a tree, then breaking it off. However, though his body was not secured, it was most probable he died from the lacerations of the stomach caused by his endeavours to break the rattan, as I have not heard of his being seen since. It was up the Siol branch that a place was found where the body of one of his victims appeared to have been beaten, to break the bones, previously to swallowing. The Malays say the alligators do it by repeated blows of their ponderous head; in fact, one of the large teeth of the reptile was found snapped off on the above-mentioned spot.

As I have told the story of Sadam’s alarm at the sudden appearance of the alligator, I ought in justice to him, to mention an occurrence which took place last year. He and his brother Dand were wandering near Tanjong Po, a rocky point near the entrance of the Sarawak river, when they came to a cave; hearing some movement inside, they entered, and saw two huge alligators at the farther end. Knowing that these ferocious reptiles are not very active, except on soft mud, or in the water, they determined to attack them. They were armed with spears and swords, and entering the cave, Sadam approached the first beast, and actively springing clear to avoid its rush, drove his spear into the soft side, and with his brother’s aid soon severed the head from its body. Encouraged by their success they advanced to attack the second, which was vainly endeavouring to escape over the broken rocks, and soon succeeded in destroying it.

I was conversing one day with a French priest who had resided many years in Siam, and he told me he had seen men there catch the alligator in the following manner:—In the upper Menam, where the river is broad and shallow, but with deep pools occasionally, the alligators are both numerous and fierce; yet the inhabitants, who are very fond of eating the flesh, pursue them with great courage and skill. Six or seven men proceed to a pool where one of these reptiles is supposed to lurk, and with long poles, sound every portion of it; if an animal be there he is soon disturbed, and driven towards the shallower part of the river, even to the sandbanks, where expert men throw their lassoes round his feet and tail. When they think him somewhat exhausted, a bold hunter, springing on the alligator’s back, places his hands over the creature’s eyes, which then always remains quiet. A noose is quickly slipped over his head, and the animal hauled ashore.

Alligators lay their eggs in the jungle. I remember hearing the late Mr. Brereton tell the following story: He was one day hunting in the jungle near the Sakarang fort, when his dogs gave tongue. He followed up quickly, and found they had disturbed a female alligator laying her eggs. Directly she saw him, she gave chase, and he had some difficulty in getting away from her, though the dogs distracted her attention.

Alligators very seldom attack boats, but a case occurred in the Sambas river, where a man was dragged out of a large prahu from among twenty of his companions. My own party was never in danger from them but once, when a large alligator rose within three feet of the boat; but before he could do anything, I had put a rifle-ball into his side, as I happened at that moment to be looking out for a shot at them on the mud banks.

Having stopped so early, we had plenty of leisure-time on our hands; and being seated on a pretty pebbly bank, I commenced a game of ducks and drakes in the water, in which I was soon joined by the whole party—it afforded them great amusement. I may here remark that you may allow this kind of freedom with your native followers, without their ever taking advantage of it another time. If they see you inclined to chat, or to amuse yourself with them, they are delighted; if you desire to be quiet, they never disturb you by any intrusion or undue familiarity.

My cook Ahtan, who was very much annoyed last night by having to set before me so poor a dinner as stale bread and salt fish, determined, as he had a long afternoon before him, to devote it to cooking, particularly as I always divided it into two portions, one for him, and one for myself. The curry he produced was admirable, and having secured a cucumber last night, he was enabled to add what the Malays call a sambal, of which there are many kinds; the one he made was of the sliced cucumber, and green and red chillies cut into fine threads; others are of dried salt fish finely powdered, or fish roes, or hard-boiled eggs, or the tender shoots of the bamboo, but with all, or nearly all, red or green chillies are added. The most delicious I have ever seen put on table was made of prawns about an inch long, partly boiled, then seasoned with freshly prepared curry mixture, and at last slightly moved over the fire in a frying-pan, taking care not to burn it; if chillies are added judiciously, so as not to render it too fiery, it causes a keen appetite to all but a confirmed invalid.

Malay cookery is sometimes very tasty; I remember spending a fortnight in the Sultan’s palace, and we were fed daily from his kitchen; sometimes the stewed fowls were admirable, and there was a particular kind of rice-cake sent in very hot, which was delicious. But the triumph of Malay cookery is to send in the sambals in perfection, particularly the one called blachang; the best is composed of the very finest prawns, caught, I imagine, soon after the little ones have burst from their eggs, and pounded up with red chillies, and a little ginger. Coarser kinds are made from the larger prawn, or even from the smallest fish caught on the river’s banks. Sometimes the material is first exposed to the sun in order to be completely dried, or it would not keep or mix very well, though it is often soaked till nearly decomposed, and that is perhaps the favourite way when it emits a rather powerful scent, but it is very tasty. Prawns and fish are cooked in a great variety of ways, but roasting them over a fire as abobs, is an excellent fashion, if you first sprinkle them with curry mixture.

I have mentioned the admirable curry which Ahtan put before me; perhaps I ought to explain how we make that dish in the Far East; it appears a very different thing from what I have tasted in England under the name of curry: a fowl is cut up into small pieces, and four dried and two green onions, five chillies, half a turmeric, one teaspoonful of coriander seed, one of white cumin, and one of sweet cumin are provided. You must well pound the seeds, turmeric and chillies, and slice the onions fine; then take the saucepan, and after buttering it, slightly brown the onions, then add the pounded ingredients with just sufficient water to reduce them to a paste, and throw in the fowl and well mix them up, till the meat has a yellow tint, and lastly, add the cocoa-nut milk, and boil till the curry be thoroughly cooked. I hope my teaching is sufficiently clear to be understood, but I must add, the cocoa-nut milk is made by scraping the meat of half of an old nut very fine, then soaking it in warm water, and after squeezing out the milk, throw the fibre away. I watched the whole process of cooking with great interest, and almost fancy I could make a curry myself.

After dark, while the men were sitting in their tents, I had a talk with the Orang Kaya Upit about the treatment of the aborigines. Now that we are away from the influence of the rajahs, he will speak out, and tell me anecdotes that otherwise would never reach my ears: they are admirably illustrative of the present method of governing this country. A few years ago, a Murut of the Limpasong village killed a tax-gatherer. There was little doubt that the Murut could only excuse himself by urging oppression; and that had he been seized and executed, nothing could very well be said on the subject; but the present Sultan thought differently: instead of killing the offending Murut, he determined to destroy the village of about two hundred souls. He collected a force of Malays to attack the houses from the river, and promised the Muruts the heads, slaves, and plunder, if they attacked by land. The Limpasong people surrounded by a couple of thousand men had no chance; they made a slight resistance, then fled. The Muruts in the woods fell upon them, killed about fifty, and took about the same number of women and children prisoners; the rest escaped. The Orang Kaya thought nothing of this; but the grievance was that the Sultan took away all the prisoners as his slaves, and likewise defrauded the Muruts of the most valuable plunder.

Again, in 1850, the nephew of the late Sultan was dunning a Bisaya for an imaginary debt; the man, to escape annoyance, tried to jump out of the verandah, when a follower of the noble wounded him with a sharp stick. This roused his friends, and they killed the whole party. Directly they had done so, they remembered the gravity of the act, and formed a league with the neighbouring villages to resist the force that was sure to attack them from the capital. They erected a stockade, and a few of their bravest men defended it for a short time: there was much firing and great beating of gongs, but little damage. The noise, however, frightened the Bisayas and Muruts, and they fled; but as they left the stockade, Orang Kaya Upit fired his musket, and killed a Bornean. This was enough to prevent all idea of pursuit.

Now was the time for the wily Makota to settle matters: he sent a flag of truce, and after some discussion, it was agreed that four persons should be given up to suffer death in satisfaction for those who were killed with the Sultan’s nephew. Now comes the infamous part of the story. The aborigines gave up a stranger, who had married in the country, and who had had nothing whatever to do with the original murders: they gave him up, with his wife, his grandfather, and grandmother, and his two children—the last were kept as slaves by Makota, the other four executed.

I mentioned the Sultan’s nephew was dunning for an imaginary debt: I must explain this. There is a system in this country called “serra,” or “serra dagang,” or forced trade, which I have before referred to, but it is carried on in the neighbourhood of the capital to an extent unknown elsewhere. Every noble of any influence that thinks proper goes to a tribe with some cloth, and calling the chief, orders him to divide it among his tribe; he then demands as its price from twenty to a hundred times its value. He does not expect to get the whole at once, but it enables him to dun the tribe for years after. Not content with taking their goods for these imaginary debts, they constantly seize their young children and carry them off as slaves. The tribe who killed the Sultan’s nephew had actually paid their serra to thirty-three different nobles that year, and had been literally stripped of all their food, before giving way to passion, they destroyed the whole party above referred to.

Makota was enabled to settle the matter quickly, because without the food they get from Limbang, the capital would starve. I little thought that within three months of my writing the above lines, Makota would likewise have lost his life by his infamous oppressions.

A system very much encouraged by the Borneans is to induce the Orang Kayas to sell as slaves all the orphans of a tribe, or the children of any poor Murut who cannot pay his debts: they are systematically corrupting the tribes. In hearing these stories of the Sultan and his nobles, which, I may add, I have no doubt are quite correctly and fairly told by the Muruts, as I have often heard the same or similar ones from the Borneans, I was reminded of the old Malay saying of the four qualities which a ruler should possess. The Borneans, though they know the words, have forgotten the spirit: a sovereign should be brave, just, patient, and yet possess the power of being angry.

Old Japer makes me long to visit the great mountain of Tilong. I asked him to give me some idea of it; he answered, “Imagine the flat summit of Kina Balu carried higher till it ended in a peak;” it is occasionally white at the top, but rarely remains so for many hours after sunrise, so it does not reach the regions of perpetual snow. I should like to organize an expedition to explore it; he says it is quite practicable. I may even see the great diamond now in the hands of a Malau chief, who would even give it me if I would help him to destroy a Malay noble who attacked his house in order to get possession of this famous stone: the Malay was driven off, not however before he had lodged a ball in the jaw of the Malau chief. “To avenge this wound he would give you anything.” I told him I would go to see the mountain and the diamond, if he would take me; but he says he hopes to perform the pilgrimage to Mecca towards the end of the year, if I will assist him. He wants to see the land that “God made holy, and where He performed so many wonderful works.” He fears that, as now he is an old man, he may die without fulfilling the desire of his life.

Speaking of the Malau diamond reminds me of the famous one formerly said to be possessed by the Sultan of Matan, for which he was offered immense sums. Borneo, however, has always been famous for its diamonds, which are worked at the present time by the Chinese and Malays at Landak, a country lying farther inland than Sambas; and there are two streams in Sarawak, the Santah, and a branch of the Quop, where diamonds of a very fine water have been found, but those places have not yet been regularly explored. Occasionally very pretty diamonds are brought over from the Dutch territories to Sarawak, but I have seldom examined them. It is never safe to trust to reports respecting diamonds; for instance, I was once informed that a noble in Brunei had a very large diamond which he wished to part with, but when we came to examine it, we found it was a pinkish topaz, as large as a pullet’s egg, and he asked a thousand pounds for it.

CHAPTER III.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL—continued.

Wet Morning—Wild Cattle—A Night Adventure—View of Molu Mountain—A Pebbly Flat—Moose Deer—Our Tents—Kayans—Their Attacks—Desolation—Course they pursue to invade these Districts—Difficulties—Attack the Lepuasing Muruts—Fearful Retaliation—Attacks on the Villages of the Lower Limbang—Makota’s Treachery—His Cupidity—Surprise of Balat Ikan—Alarm Signal—Advance—Fresh Kayan Marks—Inundations—Unskilful Sportsmen—Difficult Rapids—The Sertab Hills—Enter the Limestone District—A New Kayan Hut—High Pork—Effect of Pebbles on the Rock—Agreeable Evening—Omen Birds—Japer’s Method of easing a sore Heart—The Punan Tribe—The Spy—The Alligator Omen—The Bird Omen—Attack the Village—Poisoned Arrows—Destruction of a Tribe—Effect of such Forays on the Country—The Ghosts on the Tapang Tree—Numerous Bees’ Nests—Sand Flies—Seribas Omen Bird—The Salindong—Kayan Resting-place—Traces of Captives taken—Precautions—Difficulties increase—Limestone Country—Severe Toil—Accidents avoided—Hauling the Boats—River narrows—A Fresh—Towing-ropes—Story of the Death of Orang Kaya Apo—Enter the Sandstone District again—Broader River—Snakes on Trees—The same Colour as the Boughs and Foliage—Biawaks or Guanas—A large One—Their Ways—The Fowls and the Cobra—Heavy Day’s Work—Future Plans—Two Ways of reaching Adang—The flying Foxes—Huge Frog—The Madihit—Leave our Boats—Handsome Trees—Appearance of the Country—Sand Flies—Preparations for the Overland Journey—Division of Food—Our famous Hunters—A Cache—The Chinese on the Madihit.

September 1st, 7 a.m.—The night continued fine till towards early morn, when the rain commenced, and still continues. The showers are not very heavy, but there is an incessant descent of drizzle. The river rose two feet during the night, but there is a tendency to fall. I should push on immediately, only it is now necessary to open all the mat coverings, and prepare for poling; before we could stow away the baggage, they would be wet through. I must have patience.

3 p.m.—Having breakfasted, and the weather clearing, we managed to get away at 8.15, and at 11.20 passed the entrance of the Madalam. At Pulau Tambadau, so called on account of our twice disturbing a fine tambadau bull from this island, I sent the Orang Kaya round the inner passage to drive any wild cattle that might be there towards the main river; but, unfortunately, they heard him, and we saw them plunge from the end of the island into the narrow stream. He fired, says he hit one, but there was no result—very vexing, as I thought he would go so quietly as to drive the cattle towards us. Had they plunged into the main stream, we should have secured several: there were eight, some of them quite young.

Just at the entrance of the Madalam, opposite the site of the China fort before mentioned, we once had what I thought might have proved a serious adventure. We had built a small hut, and our whole party consisting of but fifteen, we kept a good watch. Towards four in the morning, the sentinel touched me quietly, I got up, and found old Japer watching with a musket in his hand, who beckoned me to him; then I distinctly heard footsteps in the jungle. I told the sentinel to wake the men quietly, and when all were prepared, I shouted out in Malay, “Who goes there?” No answer, but perfect stillness. I then made Japer hail in the Kayan and also in the Murut languages, and as again no answer was returned, I fired a miniè rifle over the spot from whence the noise of footsteps had proceeded. The crash of the conical ball in the trees made the intruders rush back. In about a quarter of an hour we heard steps on the pebbly flat below us. We again hailed, but obtaining no answer, we fired a volley. There was much movement, as of footsteps in rapid retreat. I thought at first it might be a pig or a tambadau; but on examining the jungle near the hut, we found the footprints of several men who had crawled up very near to us. They may have been only wax hunters, but they ought to have answered the hail: my men, however, insisted that they were Kayans.

After leaving the Madalam on our right, we entered a perfectly new country. We saw a range of hills, said to be Sertab, to the eastward. We stopped at two p.m. below an extensive pebbly flat. It shortly afterwards commenced raining, and is now pouring heavily, though as the clouds are coming from the north, there is some hope of the weather clearing up. Just below Tambadau Island we had a view of the Molu range, and I was somewhat puzzled by it. There appear to be two peaks, the westernmost much lower than that to the east, which is considerably loftier. When we were at the foot of the range, we noticed that there was a peak to the westward, but not much separated from the mountain we attempted to ascend.[7]

9 p.m.—About four p.m. the rain ceased, but the river continued to rise till seven: it is now gradually sinking. It rose three feet in this broad space, so that in the narrow portions of the stream it must have risen much more. We have fastened our boats in a safe place, under a clump of trees near the northern part of the pebbly flat. This mass of shingle is, perhaps, 300 yards by 150 in its broadest part, and forms the easternmost portion of an island. In pulling along to-day, I noticed several of these beds of water-worn pebbles showing themselves in the banks, from two to eighteen feet above the present level of the river, which proves that the stream flows now at a much lower level; great accumulations of drift wood may also be occasionally observed cropping out of the steep banks. We have as yet passed no ancient forest; young jungle, mixed with bamboos, cover the banks. The water to-day has, on the whole, been very shallow, and we had to use great exertions occasionally to get the boats over the rapids.

Just before dusk, a man shouted out that there were moose-deer in the island. We instituted a very active search, but the cunning animals hid themselves away in the long grass and brushwood, so that without dogs they were not to be found, and swimming exceedingly well, they always take to the water when pursued.

2nd.—(My journal appears to be filled with nothing but notices of the weather; but as success or non-success depended entirely on the amount of rain that fell, it is very natural that I should have recorded the changes from dry to wet and wet to dry.) There was a little drizzling during the night, the water falling two feet, but at four a.m. the rain came down in torrents, and the rush of the stream forbad any attempt at advancing.

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.

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.

I have noticed to-day many of those deep holes in rocks mentioned by De la Beche, as caused by the continual working of pebbles on them. Many have bored their way down several feet, working even through to the stream; others are in every stage of progress. The river, though in many places deep, is generally shallow, particularly at the rapids, and it occasionally rushes down with great force. I expect as we enter the limestone district, to change the character of these impediments, which have as yet consisted of pebbles, gradually enlarging as we move up the river; many of limestone are now showing themselves. The Muruts declare there are edible birds’-nest caves near Salindong; but we must reserve any search till our return, as I will not allow anything to interfere with our advance.

I do enjoy this exploration of new countries. I especially enjoy an evening such as this. It is a fine star-light night; we have pitched our tents on a broad pebbly flat, and the men have collected a great pile of wood, with which to keep up a cheerful fire. Most of us are sitting round it, and that everlasting subject of discussion arises—how far are the Kayans off. The hut to-day appeared as if very lately used, but if we are to be attacked, I hope it will be in the day-time. The conversation was beginning to flag, when suddenly we heard a bird utter three cries to our right. “Ah,” cried Japer, “that is a good sign,” and instantly reverted to head-hunting and omens. I will here introduce a story illustrative of the practice. Its cool atrocity always makes my heart sick. Japer told it in illustration of various omens. I will try and relate it in his own words, whilst they are still ringing in my ears.

“I am acquainted with all the different birds and animals in which the Pakatans have faith. Do you hear that grasshopper,—it is on the right, and is a sign of good fortune. Were there three or four sounding together, we should instantly leave our hut, at whatever time of night, and seek a new resting-place, or we should suffer for it. When the bird of omen flies over us from the quarter whence we have just arrived, it is a good sign; the bird tells us to advance. If he flew from the quarter whence we were going, we should return to our last night’s resting-place, whatever might be the distance. You know that bird which has three cries? When it sounds to the right it is good luck; and also when to the left, if very near an enemy, it rejoices to give them to us as a prey. When it cries, 'Trik, trik,’ it is death to those that advance.

“I will tell you what has happened to me since I have entered El Islam. Two of my grand-children died of sickness. How was I to lose the soreness of heart occasioned by this event? I determined to go head-hunting. I sent a hundred of my tribe up the Rejang, and started myself with seventy to Bintulu. There the Orang Kaya Pamancha came to me and said, 'You are going to kill some of my people.’ 'No; I am not,’ I answered. 'Well,’ he said, 'there is a tribe of Punans living near Bukit Lambir, who owe me for goods, which they have had for some time. They sell their camphor and their wax to others, not to me. Go and attack them; there are only thirty males. But don’t forget me when you divide the women and children.’

“So I sent my brother, who is a brave man, and he started in a small canoe, with three men. After a long search, he arrived in their neighbourhood, and heard them talking in the woods. He therefore hid his canoe, and that night walked up close to their village. He then stripped and left his sword and everything near an old tree, and fastening a string to the stump, crawled towards the house like a pig on all fours, but gradually letting out the string behind him; this was to be his guide in returning to his clothes. He found that the house was large. He then crawled back to the place from whence he started. Not satisfied with this inspection, he determined to remain there and have a look at the place during the day. At dawn he concealed himself in a hollow tree, and waited there till all the Punans had gone out hunting; he then boldly went near the house and counted the number of doors—'families’—which he found to be forty. Thereupon, he returned to his companions, and they all together pulled off to Bintulu.

“On meeting, I asked what was the news? As this was in public, my younger brother answered, 'Antah,’ (nothing particular); but presently calling me on one side, he told me all that he had seen. That very night I started off with my whole party. When we reached the entrance of the Lambir River, a great alligator rose to the surface, and kept up with our boats the whole way. This was a good omen, and I addressed the animal thus:—'Oh, grandfather, give us good fortune, and we will provide you with a feast.’ We were all in the highest spirits, when the omen bird flew from the right hand to the left, crying 'Trik, trik;’ and immediately another flew from the left to the right, sounding ‘Trik, trik.’ This double crossing was a very bad omen, and portended a fight and much contention; so I said to my followers, 'Let us return to our boats for three days; this omen is very bad.’ But they laughed at me, and said, 'You are becoming afraid.’ 'Very well,’ I answered, 'let us go on; I shall not be the only one to die.’

“Upon this we approached the house, and at break of day commenced hurling our siligis (wooden javelins) through the bark walls. Upon this the Punans answered with a flight of sumpits (poisoned arrows), one of which struck me on the hand. I dragged it out with my teeth, of which I had then a few left, and bound up the wound. The charm I possessed prevented its having any bad effect. When my relations saw that I was wounded, they said, 'Oh, father, you had better retire.’ But I answered, 'No; I did not seek the fight to-day; I shall not retire.’ I tried to discharge a new gun I had bought, but the instrument (may it and he who sold it me be accursed!) would not go off.

“The Punans, fearing that we would use fire, began now to come down from their house to fight on the ground. They were thirty-five, we were seventy; but the sun had descended as low as that in the heavens”—pointing, as he said these words, to the sky (4 p.m.)—“ere the fight was over. We killed them all; they fought like brave men; not one tried to run away. We then went up to the houses and seized the women and children. We captured fifty-five. When we caught a woman, it was like catching a hen; all her children flocked to her like chickens. When we caught a child, the mother ran to it directly. That night we made merry in the house, and next day started off to Bintulu. Some of the captives cried, others made no sign. My share came to two, whom I sold to a Brunei man for a pikul of guns each (thirty Spanish dollars). On that occasion ten of our party were killed, and nearly every man wounded, which was all caused by neglecting the warning the omen-birds gave; but our young men were too eager. We got thirty-five heads. Had they followed my advice, we should have fallen upon them when unprepared, but I was not listened to.”

Such is the story I have before heard, and Japer has now again repeated to me in all its detail. I have written it down almost word for word, omitting, however, his two single combats, in which his opponents fell. He is a well-known warrior amongst them. The Punans had never done them the slightest injury; but, for the sake of easing his sore heart, a tribe is massacred. The Orang Kaya, who gave the information, got a slave for his trouble. What country can prosper where such scenes are constantly occurring?

At this moment there are, most probably, from twenty to forty Kayans pulling before us, seeking for heads and slaves. We cannot be certain of the number, as, from the signs, there may be one or two tamuis; and the maxim of these ruffians is, that out of their own country all are fair game. “Were we to meet our father, we would slay him.” The head of a child or of a woman is as highly prized as that of a man; so, as easier prey, the cowards seek them by lying in ambush near the plantations. I ought to add, that some of the relations of the Pakatans, who were killed in the foray, sacrificed two of the women captives for the sake of the heads and for revenge.

The Orang Kaya Upit and his party listened to this story with great interest, and evidently envied Japer the glorious chance he had had. I changed the conversation, and then they told stories of the wrongs they suffered at the hands of the people of the capital. To-night they were full of stories. Old Japer is a store-house of information; he is so well acquainted with the countries between Sarawak and Brunei. He has a thorough faith in ghosts and spirits, and tells of many an adventure with them; of the Antus who caused the death of the wax-hunters, by pushing them off the meñgiris or tapang-tree. When the unfortunate men, from inefficient preparations, as their companions not keeping up a great fire under the trees to stupefy the bees, are so stung as to let go their hold, the natural explanation is never taken; they fly to their superstitions.

Japer’s nephew saw one of these tapang ghosts, and managed to keep his eye upon him and prevent him pushing him off; he came down without accident, but without any wax. I suggested that he invented the ghost to excuse his timidity, which Japer thought probable. To-day we passed one of these lofty trees, bearing above twenty bees’-nests, among them four old ones white with wax. As the country is full of tapangs, in which alone do the bees build their nests, the stories of the great amount of wax formerly procured in this district may be true. Why do the honey-bees generally build on one particular tree? Its being the finest in the forest is no good reason; perhaps there is something enticing in the bark. I say “generally,” because, though I have never seen their nests on other trees, yet I have often come across them in the crevices of rocks.

If travelling has its pleasures, it has also its disagreeables: mosquitoes near the sea, leeches by thousands in the jungle, and swarms of sand-flies on the banks of the rivers. The fire being nearly out, there is no smoke to drive these last nuisances away, and they compel me to close my journal for the night, and retire under the shelter of a Scotch plaid.

I have so often mentioned the omen-birds, that I will describe the one which is most considered by the Seribas Dayaks: body, a bright red; wings, black, chequered with white; head, black at top, with a beak and throat light blue; the tail long, a mixture of black, white, and brown; about the size of a blackbird; the beak is slightly hooked. It is a scarce bird, and is called by the natives Burong Papaw. The bird is before me while describing it. I dare say a naturalist would notice more peculiarities.

5th.—Though I don’t do very much work, yet I was so tired this evening that I fell asleep without writing in the day’s journal; but, waking up at nine a.m., I will briefly notice the day’s occurrences. We got away at quarter-past six, and, after ascending half a mile, found ourselves at the mouth of the Salidong, or Salindong, which is but a small stream on the right hank. A limestone cliff marks the entrance, and probably gives the name to the branch, lindong, to overshadow. Opposite to it was a Kayan resting-place, where we found marks which proved that one party had returned. In the hut was picked up a woman’s jacket, with a small net, left behind in the hurry of departure, so it is probable they captured her while fishing on the banks of some rivulet.

Though certain they had obtained captives, opinions were divided on the subject of heads. I could find no traces, and old Japer agreed with me that it was uncertain; but it would only be accidentally that we could have discovered indications. They had left a mark, however, to show their countrymen that they had been up the Salindong: it was a long pole, ornamented with three tufts pointing up that stream. The three tufts were supposed by many to show that they had obtained three heads or captives; it might mean either. There were evidently two parties out, and it is more than probable that there is one ahead of us; but we should have little to fear from the crew of one tamui, even if they took us by surprise. However, the men are taking every precaution; the muskets are nightly inspected, discharged if suspected of being damp, and kept ready at hand to be used at a moment’s notice. I have little fear but that the heavy volley we could pour into an enemy would drive them off without trouble.

Our course to-day has been principally through a limestone district, though occasionally there is sandstone, as at the mouth of the Tuan River. The general dip is to the E.N.E.; sometimes very steep, varying from 21° to 53° and 56°. Though we worked to 3.45 p.m., staying only an hour and a half for breakfast, we made comparatively but little progress—not, perhaps, more than six miles, as last night’s rain raised a sort of fresh, which was hard to contend against amid the limestone rocks and steep banks. In fact, the last half mile took us nearly two hours to accomplish: the limestone rocks were excessively steep, and the river, being confined to a narrow bed, rushed like a mill-sluice in many places. Now we found the use of our long towing-ropes. After vainly endeavouring to pole along, we all but two got out, and, crawling on to a tolerably even spot, passed the tow rope round a tree, for fear the rush of waters should be too great for our strength, and then hauled. At one place it took our whole united crews to get my garei past a deep though dangerous rapid.

After two hours’ severe work, we managed to reach a spot which the men considered we might safely bring up under; it is a point about forty feet in height, that promises shelter in case of a heavy fresh, and we may have that to-morrow, as the rain is pouring now. The advance of the last half mile was entirely the men’s doing, as at the mouth of the Tuan, by mismanagement, we got across the stream and came broadside on to a sunken rock, which nearly upset us. After this I had no desire to face the rush of waters ahead with tired men, and proposed stopping at the Tuan, but they said it was not safe. I thought it the perfection of a resting-place; rocks rising on either side, crowned by noble trees, whose branches met above, forming a most beautiful and extensive bower. Of course I was very unwilling to stop, when my followers wished to go on: so I let them have their own way; but they said afterwards, had they known what work was before them to get over the next half mile, they would almost have run the risk of staying at the spot I pointed out. It did, indeed, strain our muscles to make the advance.

We had a very narrow escape, also, from the stupidity of Orang Kaya Upit. At one of the worst rapids that we were attempting to pole up, he got across our bows; and, in trying to avoid running his frail sampir under water, we let go our hold, and were swept back by the current at an awful pace. The rebound of the waters from the rocks prevented our going on them, and saved us from the smash most expected. The Orang Kaya and his Muruts were very unpopular after this, and my men showed great unwillingness to aid them; but, as they had assisted us in our heavy work to get my garei past the rapid, I insisted upon doing the same for them. To insure the execution of the order, I took the end of the long towing-rope myself, and passed it round a tree, and put my Malays on a grassy, but rocky point, which was completely free from brushwood. There was no difficulty in hauling this light sampir up; but the two Muruts left in it were clumsy, and, just as it was clear of the rapid and approached the bank, nearly got their boat across the stream; though it was swept against the rocks, it was too elastic to receive much damage.

T. Picken, lith.

Day & Son, Lith^rs. to the Queen.

Published by Smith, Elder & C^o. 65, Cornhill, London.

THE LIMBANG—HAULING PAST THE RAPIDS

The wind has been from south-west all day, and therefore from Molu. We have been advancing through very hilly country, which rises abruptly from the bank: masses of rock continually overshadow the river, which is now always confined to a very narrow space; it is therefore deeper and more rapid. Occasionally there were dark pools, with no bottom with our four-fathom poles. Old Japer missed, or only slightly wounded, a kijang, a species of roe. Most unlucky sportsman!

6th.—The expected fresh came on about one a.m.; and as it has rained all the morning, the water will increase for many hours yet. There is very good protection where we have secured our boats, though the river has risen six feet since yesterday, and is now running like a mill-sluice. We have met with so many obstructions and delays from these freshes, that I begin to fear we shall not accomplish the object of our expedition. I shall persevere until we have only three days’ provisions left. Food is the only difficulty, otherwise I would spend three months in trying to reach the Adang Muruts. The rocks near our encampment are both limestone and sandstone, the latter uppermost; their dip is east, angle 82°. There appears to be too much disturbance of rocks here to render any observations of much value, either with regard to the stratification or the angle; the rocks are constantly laminated. My men are employed in making towing-ropes of twisted rattans; the one for the garei is strong enough to hold a schooner, but we may want them in the bad rapids. Yesterday we trembled once or twice, fearing our tow-ropes would part.

At 4 p.m.—The river has not fallen more than two and a half feet since I marked it at nine a.m. If it rain to-night, we shall lose another day.

It is a cold evening; the gusts of wind occasionally driving the drizzly rain before it; so I have asked the Muruts to come and have a glass of whiskey with me. We have had a couple of hours’ talk, and they have told me innumerable anecdotes of their own lives. Orang Kaya Upit mentioned an event which occurred to himself not many years ago. His father and mother-in-law were invited to a feast by the Orang Kaya Apo: there was great drinking, and at night most of the drunken guests slept in the house. After some hours, Apo got up and killed Upit’s two relations in their sleep; perhaps, in revenge of some old injury.

Upit immediately brought his complaint to the Sultan, but no attention was paid to him. At last one of the men about the court said, “Why don’t you revenge yourself?” The Sultan laughed, and repeated, “Ah, why don’t you?” Upit upon this went home and prepared his arms, and for two years lay in wait in all sorts of places, but he could never find Apo off his guard. One day, however, he met him in the Trusan river, returning from the Sultan’s palace, and shot him through the body, and took his head. Upon this, the Sultan fined him a hundred pikuls of brass guns (3,000 dols.), not for killing Apo, but for disrespect to him in shooting a man who had lately left his palace, though the deed took place twenty miles away. Upit, by great exertions, and by the assistance of all the neighbouring villages, paid a portion of the fine. It is an illustration of Bornean government.

7th.—It appeared a beautiful night, but towards morning it rained heavily. I turned round in my bed, and made up my mind to lose another day; but at dawn, finding the river not so rapid as I expected, I pushed off a few minutes after six a.m., and after an hour’s heavy work, was rewarded by finding the hills gradually receding from the banks, thus allowing the river freer scope. As might be imagined, this was a sign that we had passed the limestone district; gradually it gave way to sandstone, and with it a more open country. The river soon became broader, but shallower; and though it necessitated hard work, it was not to be compared to the difficulties we overcame on the 5th.

During our progress up this river we have kept very much along the banks, and have had to take great care not to shake snakes into our boat. These reptiles are constantly found concealed amid the foliage of fruit-trees, or lying quietly along the branches to catch unwary birds which seek their food there. In fact, their colours so much resemble those of the trees, that it is often difficult to distinguish them. Musa one day pointed to a tree and said, “There is a large snake.” I could not see it, but on his pointing to it with his sword, I noticed a brown creature thicker than my arm, coiled round a bough, with its head resting near a bunch of fruit, waiting the arrival of some unwary Pargam, the splendid green pigeon of these forests. It looked exactly of the colour of the bough on which it was resting, and the green snakes are equally difficult to detect. There is one with large regular scales, and a triangular head, which is the dread of the native, and if its poisonous qualities equal its offensive look, it must be a venomous one indeed. These unpleasant neighbours are, however, rarely seen, though pretty green flower snakes may be occasionally noticed among the bushes, or gliding over the blossoms on the look out for insects. One of a bright green with yellow stripes down its sides is no doubt a beautiful object, but I dislike snakes of every kind. My men, who appear to have as strong an antipathy to them, cut at them on every occasion with their swords.

Land tortoises are continually dropping from the overhanging trunks of trees as they hear the noise of our paddles. We were once much startled by a large animal springing from a high bough, and falling with a heavy splash within a few feet of our boat: it turned out to be a huge biawak, or guana, which, being alarmed, thus made his escape. The guana is a species of lizard, growing to a great length, and is the enemy of our poultry. My dogs once killed one in Brunei which measured six feet six inches in length. The whole pack attacked it; and while it was endeavouring to save its tail, a bold dog seized it by the throat, and held it tight, while the rest of the pack destroyed it. It is the only instance I have known of dogs facing so large a biawak; but they were of English breed, and all were ultimately killed by their unwary attacks on the wild pigs.

The biawaks used very often to pay us a visit at Sarawak, as there was an extensive poultry yard, and their presence in the day-time was always announced by the loud cackling of the fowls; if it were a small one, the cocks and hens would gather round it, and make feigned attacks upon it, and the beast, almost bewildered by the cries of the circle of enemies, would raise its head high and take a survey of them, as if choosing which he should seize. We once succeeded in approaching almost close to one, thinking we could catch him, as the ground was free from brushwood, but it quickly outran us, disappearing down a neighbouring ravine. The Chinese are very fond of its flesh, considering it very delicate eating.

I have also often been disturbed by the cackling of the fowls, and going to discover the cause, have found them attacking a snake which has unwarily ventured in their neighbourhood. I one day saw about twenty large Cochin cocks and hens surrounding some object, and approaching near, saw it was a fine cobra, about six feet in length. The reptile had its head raised nearly a foot, and was making slight darts at the fowls which ventured near, but unable to do much, for as soon as it attempted to move, several pecks were made at its tail. A friend who was standing near, knocked the snake on the head, and immediately all the inhabitants of the poultry-yard set upon it and tore it to pieces.

After nine hours’ severe poling and hauling, we came to a stop for the night at 4.25 p.m. I was desirous to reach the Madihit, but the men were too exhausted to proceed farther. We have not had a bearing of Molu for some time; we are anxious for it, in order to determine our position. I got out all the salt fish that was left, and divided it among the men, to whom it was most acceptable, as they had had nothing but rice for many days.

After we had finished our supper, I called the whole party together to discuss our future proceedings. I explained to them the information I had been enabled to collect from the Muruts; that we might reach the Adang landing-place by water, but that as we advanced the country became more difficult; and that, in the present state of the river, it was impracticable to face the rapids; that if we attempted the water way and failed, we must return home, as it was quite impossible to walk along its bank; the hills were too lofty and far too steep; in fact, no one would ever attempt it who knew anything of the country. The second plan was to ascend the Madihit, which could not be very far off—a mile or two—then leave our boats, and walk across, the Murut guides assuring us that we could do the distance in seven days. I put it to the whole party to consider. Musa, after a short consultation, said they would prefer walking to facing even seven days of such work as we had had; and as it was two or three days from the Adang landing-place to the houses, it was better to start at once from the Madihit, leaving the principal portion of our heavy baggage with the boats. My heart was slightly despondent yesterday, but to-day’s progress has completely cheered me up.

Just at sunset, we noticed a few flying foxes far up in the sky; they seemed very numerous, but were almost beyond view. Sometimes, however, they fly low, pursuing their onward course with steady flapping wings. For two hours I watched them at the entrance of the Sibuyau river, passing us by tens of thousands, and all flying in one direction, doubtless towards some place where they rest at night. While preparing their tents, my men disturbed a huge frog that appeared about nine inches long; it was of a dark gray colour. I was assured, however, that a full-grown frog was double this size, and if one could judge of their dimensions by their noise, when they are heard in a marsh, one might readily believe the Muruts’ account. I remember hearing the late Mr. Hayes of Siam say that he had seen them there with bodies as large as a full-sized dinner plate.

8th.—We found the Madihit to be two miles farther up on the left bank. The main stream continues broad, and is furnished with islands and immense pebbly flats, reminding me of the portion near the Madalam at very low water. The hills are now at some distance apart, allowing broader and flatter strips of cultivatable land along the banks. Our last night’s resting-place was quite a level point; we brought up a little above it, under a jutting portion of the bank, which was higher, and near it was a beautiful natural bower which would have afforded shelter for all our boats, had the stream risen high; some of the men encamped in it. The Madihit, a short distance from the mouth, is but a shallow, pebbly torrent; and a little more than half a mile up we were obliged to leave our large garei, and take to the sampirs, most of the men following along the banks; and now, less than two miles farther, we have to leave our boats, and take to walking.

We noticed a very handsome tree, whose trunk shoots out almost horizontally from the banks: its branches rise perpendicularly into the air, but let fall on either side rows of long drooping twigs, covered with elegant foliage. It was loaded with fruit, whose long wings are of a beautiful pink colour, and amid this forest it had a gorgeous effect. I believe it is of the order Dipterocarpæ. There is another very remarkable one which grows on rocky soil; its bark strips naturally from the trunk, leaving a brightish brick-red stem.

We have passed yesterday and to-day much young jungle; indeed, except where the hills are steep, there are few old trees. The fish are very plentiful in the river, but the rapidity of the stream prevents the net from acting properly. Just before entering the Madihit, I noticed a range of high hills, bearing south-east, said to be called the Paya Paya in Malay, the very difficult hills, and round their base the Limbang ran.

No rain last night or to-day. I find it impossible to continue writing, from the cloud of sand-flies that are tormenting me. Having made a smoky fire, I am at last rid of them. I have divided the remainder of the rice, and find that the careful men have enough for seven or eight days, while the improvident have not enough for five; so that they must carry sago; and, to my regret, Ahtan reports that all my tinmeats are left at home, but I have enough biscuit for seven days; in fact, I shall leave some behind me for the journey back. Our sportsmen again missed both a deer and a pig; so that, after having had every day many chances, nothing has been secured, though we have with us two of the most famous hunters in the Limbang. I never had a shot myself, as my heavy boat was generally behind the others. The rock that forms the base of many of these karañgans or pebbly rapids is a dark gray sandstone. By the barometer, we are 637 feet above the level of the sea, and as we have been toiling up rapids since we left the Damit stream, it accounts for this elevation.

The men have been working away, forming a cache for the things that we must leave behind: it is raised on four poles, so as to be quite secure from pigs.

To show how extensively the Chinese formerly spread over the country, I may notice that they had pepper plantations even up the Madihit as late as the remembrance of some of the oldest Muruts.

CHAPTER IV.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL—continued.

Start on the Land Journey—Our Course—Ascend the Rawan Torrent—Attacked by Hornets—Native Remedy—Severe Effect of Sting—Disturbed by Ants—Japer left behind—Fresh Traces of Strangers in the Forest—Appearance of the Country—Water Snake killed—Our Adventure with One—The Swimming Cobra—Romantic but timely Meeting—Story of Pangeran Mumein and the Murut Concubine—Malay Revenge—Punishment of an Offender—Cause of the Borneans being converted to Mahomedanism—Capturing the Daughter of Johore—Independent Position of the Pablat Borneans—Reach the Wax-seekers’ Hut—Flesh of the Wild Boar—The Adang Muruts—Their Sumpitans—The Poison on the Arrows—Melted in hot Water—Weapons purchased, not made by them—Dress of the Muruts—Japer rejoins us—Continue our Journey with new Guide—Method of catching Fish—Effect of Loss of Blood by Leeches—Extraordinary Insect—The Freshwater Turtle—Its Description—Curious Fly—Poisoning the River—Getting short of Provisions—Galton’s Method of dividing Food—Adopt it—Improvidence of the Malays—Cry of the Wahwah—Rejoin the Limbang—Omen Bird—Prepare for Enemies—Quarrel among the Guides—Divide the Party—Hard Walking—The Otter—A Fight with my Dogs—Still beyond the Mountain—Find good Huts—The Stragglers—The last of the Food—Ascend the Mountains—Exhaustion of the Guides—The Remains of the Ham—Its Effects—Reach the Summit—Descend to the Farms—Meet the Adang Muruts—Hearty Welcome—Names—Recent History of these Villagers—Kayan Attacks—Driven from the Limbang—The Geography of the Country—The Houses—Cold, and Fire-places—Arrival of my Followers—Sir James Brooke—The Friend of the Aborigines—His Fame had preceded me—How Reports spread—The Tigers’ Cave—Curious Story.

10th.—I was so stung by hornets yesterday that I was unable to write in my journal, and even now it is a work of difficulty. After some trouble, I got the sampirs hauled up on the bank, to be beyond the reach of freshes; and all the things we intended to leave behind were carefully stowed away. The sago we left in the boats, none of the men choosing to burden themselves with any of it, though I warned them not to take less than seven days’ provisions, but all warnings were useless.

Having divided the packages, we got away at 9.15, and started in an easterly direction for about an hour and a quarter, then southerly for about two hours, when we joined the small stream of Rawan. Our course led us from one bank to the other of the Madihit, crossing and recrossing it nearly every reach, a most fatiguing operation, and trying to one’s feet, over slippery sandstone rocks and pebbles. The forest, though principally consisting of small trees, is tolerably clear, and presented no particular difficulties, nor was it so infested by leeches as in the neighbourhood of Molu. At 12.30 we began to ascend a steep valley (easterly), generally making the bed of the Rawan our path. A mountain torrent never affords very easy walking, and three of our men were so fatigued that at 3.15, after six hours’ walking, I consented to encamp.

It was in following the bed of the Rawan that I was stung. Notice was given by the guide to leave the direct path, and we all did; but I suppose some one disturbed the hornets, as they attacked me with a ferocity that appears incredible: many flew at me, but two fixed on my arms and stung me through my double clothing. They poised themselves a moment in the air, and then came on with a rush that it was impossible to avoid. The pain was acute, but I saved my face. I tumbled down the steep bank in a moment, and, throwing aside rifle and ammunition, plunged up to my eyes in a pool, until the buzzing ceased, and the hornets had returned to their nests.

Some of my men were also stung; they squeezed a little tobacco juice on the wounds, and they say they felt no further inconvenience. I tried it about an hour afterwards, but it did me no good. I had no idea that the sting of this insect was so severe: my right arm swelled up to double its natural size, and was acutely painful; now, on the second day, it is much less so, but as the swelling continues, it is impossible to use it much. In the night we were again unfortunate, being attacked by the selimbada, a most poisonous ant, which quickly drove us from the tents, and compelled us to take refuge on a small pebbly flat near the stream. Fortunately for us it was a fine star-light sky, as we had to spend the remainder of the night there. I have called the sting poisonous; it is scarcely that, as, though the pain is acute, it has but little permanent effect. The little sleep I had was due to the last bottle of porter that remained. My men were so heavily laden, that had I brought a stock of drinkables, I could not have had them carried. I have with me but a couple of bottles of whisky and one of brandy.

Having put my right arm, the most painful, into a sling, I was enabled to make a start with the rest of the party, except Japer, who had an attack of elephantiasis. So leaving two volunteers with him, we continued our course; they promising to follow as soon as possible after the fit was over; they will easily catch our loaded men. I would gladly have stayed behind myself, as my arms were in a very unfit state to be used, and I was compelled to carry my rifle in my left hand; but the fear of running short of provisions made me push on. Having left the tents at 7.30, we soon commenced ascending hills. Our course was at first S.W., but on reaching the summit of a ridge, we followed it to the S.S.E. The guides had some difficulty in discovering the path, which was completely overgrown. We found traces, however, of recent visitors.

Leaving the ridge, we descended a stream called Patra, where the guide said he wished us to remain while he went ahead to look for the path; so that, very unwillingly, I brought up at twelve, and our guide started to explore. One of the traces we found in the course of our walk was quite fresh, a human footstep in the mud, not a couple of hours old, and many broken branches. This caused as great excitement as ever Robinson Crusoe could have felt when he discovered the one on the sand; and the whole party collected to examine it. One man ventured to observe, “Perhaps there are enemies in the neighbourhood.” At this I laughed, and suggested it might be a wax-hunter, who, having caught sight of us, has started off to give notice of the approach of our formidable party: the twenty muskets must make it look formidable to him.

Our path to-day was rather difficult, as we had to ascend many steep hills, and sometimes to move along their faces, which is tiresome walking: it is only on the ridges that our advance is pleasant. We had a view of the Molu range through the trees, and also saw many other mountain ranges, but no sign of those extensive plains that we were promised; perhaps, however, we have not penetrated far enough into the country. No portion of Molu appears to drain into the Limbang, except through the Madalam, the waters of its southern and western faces being carried off by the Tutu and the Millanau into the Baram. I have been trying to find some flowers for Mr. Low, but we have as yet seen none, except of the most trifling description. The waters of the Patra are very muddy, there evidently having been a landslip in its upper course, in fact I observed one to-day that left the surface of a whole hill quite bare. Our Muruts have just killed a large rock snake; they are now cleaning it preparatory to its forming a portion of their dinner.

They surprised their snake basking in the sun and cut off its head: but some time before we were ascending a waterfall, and while looking at some flowers, a friend accidentally touched a gray rock-snake that lay lazily extended across our path; I saw him spring aside, and had but a moment to get out of the way, as the reptile dashed past. On our return, while choosing a good pool to bathe, we observed the snake, which was about twelve feet long, vainly endeavouring to escape up a rock, and finding it could not, it made a dash at us. We thought at the time that it meant to attack us, but probably it was only an endeavour to effect an escape. We drove it back with boughs to the deep pool before us, and then hurled large stones at it till it seemed to be dead; but on descending to the water to get out the body to examine, it had disappeared, diving into some hole or crevice in the rock. The Malays have a great dread of most kind of snakes, but this they especially dislike.

The cobra is, however, the most disagreeable one, particularly when met with in the water; one tried to swim across the river just below our boat; as soon as he saw us, he directed his course our way, not, I believe, to attack us, but simply as something to rest on; but my men in great alarm gave way, and escaped the beast. I have heard men say, that the cobra will not be frightened back by beating the water with the paddles, but must be killed, or it will enter the boat; if it succeed in doing so every Malay would instantly spring into the water and leave their canoe to drift away.

4 p.m.—Our guide has just returned, and brought with him the man whose traces have kept us on the qui vive. Our guide says that after walking about half an hour, he was hailed, and after a distant parley, the man approached, and to their mutual astonishment they found that they were countrymen, and that it was, in fact, his brother-in-law, in order to visit whose sister he had joined our party, the gay gentleman having left his young wife to go and seek his fortune and another wife in the neighbourhood of Brunei. Such meetings sometimes take place in romance, but seldom in real life. The stranger is one of a large party who are now pig-hunting in the neighbourhood, so that my chief fear—that we should not find our way—has left me. We may get a deer, as these hunters have just secured a pig. The new comer says he thought we were a party of head-hunters, therefore, did not make himself known to us. He followed us for some time, and felt a great inclination to send a poisoned arrow amongst us; but that we were too strong. Very fortunate for him he did not do so, or it might have fared ill with him.

11th.—Our guide left us again last night to join the wax-seekers, and we are now waiting his return. I will enter the following story while fresh in my memory. The Pañgeran Mumein, the Shabandar’s eldest son, took a Murut girl as a concubine; she, however, was to stay with her father up country. He paid, as a bri-an or marriage portion, a pikul of bedil (133 pounds of brass guns). When she had had her first child, he, as usual, got tired of her, and told her father he did not want her any more, unless she liked to follow him to Brunei. This was objected to. A few days after, he said he should fine the father for not allowing him to take the girl to Brunei, where he would have sold her as a slave. He made the father pay him back the pikul of guns, as well as two more pikuls, and then said, “Your daughter may marry whom she pleases.”

After some time, she married one of her own countrymen. Pangeran Mumein hearing of this, in a most unaccountable fit of jealousy, determined to kill them all, and gave orders to Orang Kaya Upit to seize them. The Orang Kaya hid himself, so the Pangeran was obliged to employ the Bisayas, who caught the husband and brought him to the noble. He had him tied up to the Orang Kaya’s landing-place, and there cut him to pieces with his own hand, taking his head and giving it as a present to the Gadong Muruts. The father and girl escaped. The Pangeran remains unpunished, probably unblamed. Of course, there are two sides to the story: he declares he had not separated from the girl.

The following is an instance of the punishment of an offender:—Salam, of Bukit Manis, together with his brother and his son, was accused of stealing buffaloes, and doubtless had done so, but acting generally as an agent of Mumein’s in his rascalities. The Sultan, wearied of the constant complaints against Salam, gave orders that he should be put to death: his house was immediately surrounded and fired into, and his brother and son killed. He then came out into his garden, begging that he might be taken to Brunei to be executed; but after they had induced him to throw away his sword, and fasten his own hands with his handkerchief, so that he could not immediately seize his weapon, they rushed in and cut him down. Difference of rank, difference of treatment.

There is an old Pablat man with us named Bujang: he says that the people of his kampong, or parish, as well as those of Burong Piñg-e, descend from Muruts, and that they turned Mahomedans shortly after they captured the daughter of the Sultan of Johore. This is the tradition or history: they were, as usual, cruising down the Gulf of Siam, looking out for prey, when they observed a prahu, gaily dressed out with banners, pulling along the coast. They gave chase, and soon came up with her, and found the daughter of the Sultan of Johore, surrounded by a bevy of pretty attendants; they seized them and carried them off to Brunei, and presented the lady to their chief, who married her.

When the father heard of it, he sent a great deputation of nobles to entreat the Murut to turn Mahomedan, and marry his daughter according to the custom of that religion. He made no difficulty, but, on the contrary, invited the nobles to remain and take wives in the country. Many did, and it soon became a great rendezvous for the Malays; in fact, the other twenty kampongs are descended from odds and ends of strangers, together with their wives, taken among the aborigines. The rajahs all say they are of Johore descent.

Bujang affirms that the Pablats muster nearly a thousand fighting men; and that, with the Kadayans, or Mahomedans of the Hills, they have an offensive and defensive alliance, which enables them to hold their own, and not be treated as the other kampongs are. He was very proud that they would not suffer the rajahs to take their women, except with the parents’ consent. It is a fact that an unbetrothed girl, of decent appearance, can never be kept by her parents. A rajah sees her, and orders her to be sent to his harïm, that he may honour her by taking her as a concubine. They, therefore, betroth their children in childhood, and then they are usually safe. He says, and the Bisayas have a similar tradition, that Brunei was formerly a lake, that burst through into the sea near the island of Iñgaran.

3 p.m.—We have only walked two hours and a half to-day, as, when we arrived at the hut of the Adang hunters, our Muruts were unwilling to go farther, hoping to come in for a very good share of the flesh of the wild pig that was hung up around: so we stopped, though anxious to get to a river. It is a great luxury, after a walk, to get a bathe in a fresh, running stream. Now we are encamped on an elevation of 3,000 feet, with only a very tiny spring of water near. With the party of Adang Muruts there is an old chief who has agreed to return with us to his village, leaving his young men to gather honey and wax. The few Adangs that we have met have rather a heavy, forbidding appearance, except the old chief and another.

Nearly all of this party of hunters were armed with sumpitans, which were as usual of dark hard red wood, and had a spear-head, lashed on very neatly with rattans on one side of the muzzle, and an iron sight on the other. The arrows were carried in very neatly-carved bamboo cases, and were themselves but slips of wood, tipped with spear-shaped heads cut out of bamboo. The poison looks like a translucent gum, of a rich brown colour; and when dipped into water of a temperature of one hundred and fifty degrees, it began to melt immediately; but on being withdrawn and placed over the flame of a lighted candle, it instantly became hard again. The butt of the arrow is fixed in a round piece of the pith of a palm, which fits the bore of the blow-pipe. The natives say also, that the juice from one kind of creeper is even more virulent than that of the upas. On inquiry, I find that none of the people of these countries can manufacture the sumpitan themselves, but purchase them from traders, who procure them at Bintulu and Rejang from the wild Punans and Pakatans, and are therefore very dear, and highly prized, and no price offered will induce a man to part with a favourite sumpitan.

These Muruts were furnished with war jackets and helmets. The former were well padded, and thickly covered over with cowrie shells; the latter was of the same material, with flaps hanging, so as to protect the wearer’s neck from poisoned arrows. I heard that the supplying of cowrie shells formed a sort of trade in the Trusan districts. These Muruts, like those seen near the coast, often wear their hair tied in a knot behind, and keep it in its place by a great pin, fashioned something like a spear-head both in size as well as in appearance, which is made, according to the means of the wearer, either of brass or of bamboo.

Our walk to-day presented no feature of interest: a stiff climb to a narrow ridge, and then along it rising gradually to the hunter’s temporary hut. We but occasionally got glimpses of the country through the trees, and it presents one general view of forest, covering hill and valley. If we are to take such short walks as these, the journey will be an easy one indeed. I did not regret our little progress to-day, as it enabled old Japer to come up with us, his acute attack having left him. I never was in such a country for bees: they everywhere swarm in the most disagreeable manner, and ants and other insects are equally numerous.

12th.—There was much thunder and lightning last night, with rain; but, notwithstanding the continued drizzle, I got away before seven, the chief sending his son. Our walk was more direct to-day, as the path was well known to the guide, he having just used it. The course was generally in a S. by E. direction; on the whole, over a very similar country to yesterday; got no view whatever. We crossed numerous streams, as the Sañgin, Ropan, and Gritang, and have now stopped at a very pleasant one, the Lemilang, encamping on a high bank about 100 feet above it (900 feet above the level of the sea). We have done more work to-day, walking more than six hours. Noticed some tracks of the tambadau. The Kalio hills, perhaps 5,500 feet high, have been on our left all day. The most active man I have ever seen is a young Murut, who walked part of the way with us to-day: he had a perfect figure, and is the only pleasant-looking man besides the chief that belonged to the party of hunters.

13th.—I have little to enter, except that we walked five hours south-east, then four east, then another north, passing over the same kind of country as usual. The only noticeable event was catching some fine fish in the Madihit, just below the junction of the Rapaw and the Obar. The operation is simple: stones are hurled into a pool in the river; the fish fly for concealment under the stones and to the holes in the rocks; the men jump in and soon bring them out of their hiding-places. They caught five large and above a dozen small fish; one was eighteen inches long, and very fat. Ahtan was successful in getting a fine one, which he is at present engaged in cooking, so that we shall each dine off half of it to-night. The scales are very large; it is the same kind as I have previously noticed in the Madalam and Tampasuk.

After this good fortune, we crossed the river, and ascended the steep hill of Pakong Lubfing, till we reached a little rivulet running into the Obar. I really believe that the great loss of blood from leeches is the cause of the faintness I feel to-night; I have pushed off hundreds, and the wounds continue to bleed for some time. Perhaps this, and the very heavy day’s work, may account for the strong disinclination I feel to write my journal. The Muruts are beginning to be full of dismal stories of enemies, saying they have suffered much lately from the attacks of neighbouring tribes, who have shot at them with their poisoned arrows, many dying, including some women and children. However, there is not much reliance to be placed in such stories when told in the woods. During the evening a very disagreeable-looking insect kept attacking my candle. It looked like a dead but branched twig, and an ordinary observer would scarcely notice the difference till he saw it move; its legs are represented by four dead branches. There is another more common, that has wings like a couple of bright green leaves. (Our camp 1,500 feet.)

The Murut guides are but scantily provided with food, and search eagerly for snakes, tortoises, and fresh-water turtle. The last would be a grand find, as it is often three feet long, without including the head and neck: its upper shell and chest are covered with a soft skin, large openings being left for the limbs, each of which has five fingers, three of them armed with thin but strong claws, those on the thumbs being the largest; the fourth and fifth fingers have no claws, and their joints are such as to admit of much movement in a lateral direction, particularly the fifth, which, when the fin is distended, is at right angles to the first three. The back is of an uniform dark gray; the upper part of the head dark olive green, mottled with yellow spots; the nose is prolonged into a non-retractile, pointed soft snout, about an inch in length, and the nostrils are rather large; the tail is about three inches long and very fleshy. Its stomach, when opened, often contains many kinds of fruits, particularly wild figs and some large kernels, which, though not harder than filberts, pass unbroken through his horny jaws, which appear, however, well adapted for cutting up food of this consistence. I may add, that the lower part of its neck is covered with a fold of loose cartilaginous skin, into which it withdraws its head, with the exception of the pig-like snout.

14th.—Walked to-day seven hours in a general east-north-east direction; in fact, from the range that separates the Madihit waters from the Limbang, the Adang mountains were pointed out, bearing east-north-east. We had a distant view of some high peaks, bearing due south, said to be those in the interior of Baram. We had also a tolerable view of the Molu range, which enabled me to fix our position. I found to-day, just as we were crossing the ridge, one of the most curious insects I have ever seen; it appeared like a gigantic moth, above four inches in length, and was of a brown colour, with a band of bright green just across its neck; although it had the look of a moth, on closer examination it looked like a great horse-fly. I have little to enter to-day, as the walking has been over the same style of ground, and there has been no incident to vary the ordinary routine. We pass a good many abandoned huts, with an occasional deer-skin hanging up to dry, the mark of the hunter; and, to our great disappointment, we find the same men have been poisoning the river with the beaten out roots of the tuba plant, capturing all the good fish near the encampment. Some of the hungry ones strayed farther down, and saw several of a very large kind, but they escaped into such deep holes that it was impossible to get them out.

I am afraid our provisions are drawing to a close. I see some hungry looks and other symptoms of uncomfortableness among about half the men—all their own fault. The careful have still two days’ rice; three, if they did not assist their companions: the greedy ones have been trusting to my biscuits. However, as I could not sit down to my dinner of plain boiled rice with so many envying me, I told my servant to take sufficient for ourselves, and then divide the remainder of the biscuits into twenty-three heaps. I remembered Galton’s plan, and making one of the men turn his back to the little piles, I pointed to a heap, and he cried out a name; so that they were fairly and without favour distributed.

The non-careful men were very disappointed with this plan; they thought I should have only given those that had no rice a share, but that I explained to them would be encouraging improvidence. A similar thing occurred when I lost my boat at Molu. The men, rather than carry rice, preferred trusting to jungle produce, vainly hoping we could do three days’ work in one. We are encamped on the Urud, a tributary of the Limbang. The highest point crossed to-day was 2,500 feet: our present elevation is about 1,400 feet, after many ups and downs. One of the most melancholy sounds in the forest is the cry of the wahwah, and after sunset it sounded near us, to be answered by a disconsolate companion not very far off.

15th.—An hour’s walk brought us to the Limbang, whose bed is here, perhaps, seventy yards wide, very shallow, not reaching to the hip. It flowed from the Siliñgid mountains, and is said, after skirting their western face, to turn to the south-east to its sources in Lawi. Si Nuri, one of our guides, pretended to hear a bad bird, and wanted to return, though we were all struggling against the stream in the middle of the river. As this was the second time he had done it to-day, I would not stand it, so ordered him over; however, to satisfy timid minds, I had the guns discharged, cleaned, and reloaded. He said his añgei (omen bird) told him there was fighting at his house. We then continued to Suñgei Kapaw, where we stopped to eat our breakfast. The old chief’s son was very much astonished by the rapidity and accuracy of fire of one of the revolving carbines. He had never seen any fire-arms, unless they were common flint muskets.

Shortly after again starting, I observed a commotion among the guides, and was told that the new man and Si Nuri, his brother-in-law, wanted us to take a roundabout way, to avoid a country swarming, they said, with enemies, who would shoot at us from the jungle. This would entail the loss of another day, and the climbing of an extra high mountain. We preferred the enemies to the extra work, as our food will be all finished to-morrow; so the two guides left us, and one of the remaining Adang men undertook to find a road. It struck me afterwards that it was merely a dispute about whose house we should go to first. The Orang Kaya Upit and four followers wanted naturally to go to their relatives, while Si Nuri was anxious to get as quickly as possible to see his wife and relations; but as he could speak little Malay, I did not understand his explanation.

Our new guide, turning north for a short time, soon brought us to the Ropo, a branch of the Limbang, which is, perhaps, a third less than the main stream. From thence we continued our course north, climbing up a steep mountain, about 2,500 feet in height; then turning to the north-east, we continued that course till 4.10 p.m., when we reached the Bapangal stream. Including all stoppages and petty rests, we walked about six hours and a half, and made about eight miles. From near the summit of the high hill we had a view of some fresh clearings which appeared about seven miles off in a north-east direction. The villages are said to be on the other side of the clearings, beyond a low hill. As we must have approached these farms three miles, we cannot have more than eight miles of walking before us; at all events, I shall do my utmost to reach the houses to-morrow night, whether the men follow or not, as after the biscuit division last night I have only rice for to-morrow, coffee, and the remains of a bad China ham. Just as we were crossing the Ropo, an animal slipt quietly into the water, which I think was an otter. A few days before leaving my house, I was witness of a desperate fight between my dogs and a very fierce female otter. They had surrounded a pool, and kept her in it, but as it was very shallow a dog would dash in and make a snap at her; at last she seized one by the nose, and would not let go; the dog, a very small English terrier, did not utter a cry, but struggled towards the bank, when the whole pack fell upon the enemy, and tore it to pieces. Yet in death, it did not let go its hold, and to free the dog’s nose its jaws had to be forced open with a spear-head. (Resting-place 1,300 feet.)

16th.—Walking on till 4.30, after eight hours of regular hard work, we have not reached the Adang villages, but have a prospect of doing so to-morrow. We have only the range of mountains to cross: yesterday’s clearings and low hills we have passed. When at 4.30 I sat down on a rock, with the rain pouring down in torrents, and the men standing shivering around me, I could not but feel a little despondent when I asked the guide where were the houses, and he replied over that high mountain: but observing the men were watching me, I burst out laughing, a very unnatural sound it seemed, and said I thought the Adang dwellings had vanished in the clouds.

Presently the Orang Kaya Upit came stealing back and said he had found two fresh huts that belonged to a Murut tribe with whom they were at war, that we must instantly retrace our steps half a mile at least, and pitch our tents there. I was in a very bad mood to receive such a proposition and told him that if the devil himself lived in those huts, I would make him give me a share of them to-night, and told him to lead the way. Tired as he was, I could scarcely persuade him that I was in earnest; but, calling on my Malays to follow, we soon made an advance towards the dreaded spot, and then, after twice attempting to lead us astray, the Orang Kaya brought us to the huts, which had evidently not been vacated many hours; perhaps after they had got a distinct view of our party. The ashes of the fires were still warm, and we had no difficulty in rekindling them.

As the rain continued to descend in torrents, we were pleased indeed to find warm dry quarters, and having extended the tent from one of the huts, there was room for all. As old Japer and four of the men had not reached us by half-past five, we discharged our fire-arms one after the other to give them notice of our whereabouts, in case they were wandering within hearing. It likewise served the purpose of intimating to the Muruts concealed about that we were not head-hunters, these seeking concealment and not publicity. My best men having assisted the improvident have but a poor meal to-night. Our walk to-day was over very uneven ground, steep hills and numerous streams, among others the true Adang. The last candle is going out, so I finish.

17th. and 18th.—My journal did not reach me till this evening, so I must enter the two days together. Japer did not make his appearance during the night. At dawn, finding I had a small biscuit a-man left, I shared them out, and then started off at 6.30, hoping to reach the houses, and from thence send assistance to the stragglers. I gave notice that I expected no man to wait for his neighbour, but to push on and do the best he could for himself. Our route at first lay over the low ground that skirts the foot of the mountain, then up a tolerably easy ascent, one of the spurs of the Adang range, that appears to run north and south. After half an hour’s walking, I observed the guides dart to an old tree; I followed, and we were soon occupied in devouring mushrooms; after this slight repast, we continued our course.

About 10 a.m. four of the Muruts dropped their heavy burdens, intending to return for them next day, and started off at a running pace. I was following when I heard Ahtan’s soft voice say, “May I come too, sir?” I said, “Yes, if you can keep up.” This was very well for a few hundred yards; when, to my surprise, I found a Murut drop behind, then the Orang Kaya; at last the remaining guide stretched himself on his back, and said he was done up. I tried all I could to rouse them, but with no effect, until the arrival of the fifth Murut, who was one of the baggage train, with half a ham, the last of the provisions, and not good food unsoaked, without a drop of water for miles, but I told the Muruts that if they would try and reach the top of the mountain I would then cook and divide it.

This roused two, and after much trouble we arrived at the first peak, there we stopped; a fire was lit, and with a chopper we divided the ham into great bits. While cooking we shouted to the other three Muruts to make haste, and presently we heard the Orang Kaya begging us not to begin till he arrived. As none of the Malays would touch it, we divided the meat into seven portions, and they were soon devoured skin and all, and the bones crushed for the marrow, Ahtan and myself eagerly joining in the meal and securing our share. For a fortnight we had lived on very unsubstantial food, and the great exercise we were taking gave us appetites that scorned being satisfied with simple boiled rice.

A few minutes after the meal was over, the Muruts gave a grunt of satisfaction and started off, and continued ascending till we had reached the height of 5,000 feet; where we struck off to the north-east, down to a dashing torrent, one of the feeders of the Trusan river; here we bathed, then off again up a very steep hill. This was too much for Ahtan. He turned an imploring look on me, and seemed ready to burst into tears; but I spoke to him very angrily, asking him if at the last moment he intended to disgrace himself, and relieving him of my sword, he pushed on, and in a few minutes we were at the summit. Here we sat down for half an hour; then on, generally descending, sometimes excessively steep, and it was with the greatest pleasure that at 5.30 p.m. I found myself at the edge of a great clearing, still burning, with two village houses at its eastern verge.

Our guides had a short consultation as to how we should announce ourselves to the people, whom we could perceive working on the farms. At length Orang Kaya Upit shouted out. There was immediately a great commotion among the Muruts, but they soon recognized the voices, and, as we forced our way through the tangled trees that were felled in every direction, they came forward to welcome my companions. They soon explained who I was, and I was received with great civility and with symptoms of much curiosity. No wonder; they had often heard of the white man, but I was the first specimen that had ever reached their country. Half way across the clearing we met crowds of women and children collected to hear the news, all of us being supplied with sugar-cane to amuse us while a meal was prepared.

At 6 p.m., just at sunset, we reached the houses, and pleased was I to be able to stretch myself alongside of one of their fires. This was the hardest day’s walking we had had, ten hours of actual work, crossing a double range of 5,000 feet in height; and I was both hungry and tired, and exceedingly enjoyed the meal they prepared for us. The only drawback was, that there were but Ahtan and one Malay to enjoy it with me; two, however, came in afterwards, but fourteen succumbed to the fatigue and did not show themselves. However, I was relieved of much of my anxiety by the Chief promising to send out a party at early dawn with provisions.

The Adangs were rejoiced to see my companions, plenty of arrack was produced, and the news freely given and received. They kept it up to a very late hour. One family heard of the death of a near relative, and their wailing in the next room was very painful. Gradually, however, the spirits they drank began to have an effect upon my companions, and they all dropped off to sleep, in which I was but too glad to join them.

The only one of my Malay followers who kept up with me, and who, though one of the most improvident, had yet refused to touch the ham, although no other Mahomedan was present, was called by his companions Si Kurap, on account of a skin disease which covered his body. The Malays very often give nicknames, referring to some personal quality or defect, which, as in the above case, takes the place of the real name. One man I knew, who lived at the town of Sakarang, was called Sauh Besi, the iron anchor, on account of his great strength, and immense muscular development. Others are called from their low or high stature: Si Buntak, Mr. Short, or Si Panjang, Mr. Long, or Si Juling, Mr. Squint, from having that defect in his eyes. A very stout Chinese trader went always by the name of Baba Lampoh, or Mr. Fat. The women are called after the same fashion. Si Buntar, or the round, was the name given to a baby, on account of its plump appearance; and when she grew to be a woman and became thin, she never had another name. Some are called Sulong and Bongsu, the eldest and the youngest born, to the day of their death, never receiving any other appellation. They have also the same custom as the Dayaks of taking the name of their first-born, as Pa Sipi, the father of Sipi.

According to the Orang Kaya’s agreement, a party started off at daylight to search for my missing followers; and I went out and sat upon the stump of a gigantic tree, to view the surrounding country, a little anxious about my men. The recent history of the Adang people is a good illustration of the injury done by the Kayans to the surrounding tribes. They formerly lived near the Adang river, but extended their farms to the entrance of the Madalam; but they have been gradually driven back, until they have abandoned the Limbang waters, and now drink those of the interior of the Trusan, the whole country from the Madalam being now jungle. I do not imagine they are nearly so numerous as they were, as in the last great Kayan foray they suffered awfully. They were, I believe, all collected in their villages at some great feast, when the Kayans, about 3,000 strong, set upon them; the first village was surprised, the fighting-men slain, the rest taken captive; the few fugitives were followed up so fast as almost to enter together the second village with their pursuers, where the same scene again took place. The burning of these villages, and the beating of gongs and talawaks gave notice to the rest, and all who could fled precipitately over the Adang range, followed by their relentless foes, who killed and captured a very great number.

The view from the clearings at the back of the houses is extensive. To the east three lines of hills, backed in the distance by a long range of mountains, where the salt springs are found; to the north there is a fine valley, descending on either side in easy slopes to the banks of the Trusan, and as a background there is a fine range of mountains. They say the highest is Brayong, which rises opposite Labuan, and is one of the loftiest peaks visible from that island—direction east of south; so that if these people be not mistaken, I know my position tolerably well; in fact, this morning, before I heard the name, these heights reminded me of the Lawas mountains; but they appear so close, that all my bearings and map must be utterly wrong if the Muruts have not made a very great mistake; it is only one of the guides that calls it Brayong. The distant eastern range is said to shed its waters to the opposite coast.

The village at which we are staying is but a very ordinary specimen of a Dayak location. The houses are poor, though effectually closed in, to avoid, they say, the poisoned arrows of their enemies, who are continually haunting this neighbourhood, a very great exaggeration evidently. From the clearings that are seen on every side, there must be a very fair population assembled around these hills; but their continual petty quarrels have no doubt a bad effect on their prosperity and their power to resist their great enemy. There are about fifty families in this community, and like many of the other inland Dayak tribes, each family occupies but a small space; the front verandah, closed in like a long room, is filled with fireplaces, showing that the Muruts of the plain find an elevation of 3,500 feet very cold. I had no blanket last night, and had to get up about three, and have the fire replenished, for I felt too cold to sleep; they use very large logs as the chief stay, and with a little care they remain in all night.

I notice here many beads and akiks (agate beads), but little brass wire. About twelve to-day nine of my followers made their appearance, five Muruts bearing their burdens for them; they said that the two lads of the party were quite exhausted, and many of them, from eating the cabbage of the rattan, had been vomiting. They only managed to reach the river in which I bathed, and were found there by the party of Muruts I had sent out; five Muruts continued the search for old Japer and the original missing four. I am afraid I shall not see anything of them before to-morrow, as old Japer’s legs are very much swollen. I had scarcely written the words, when the report of two muskets told me that they were not far off, and all are now here but Japer, who is slowly coming on behind. At sunset he arrived, utterly exhausted.

So suspicious had my men become from hearing the Muruts describe the treachery of the head-hunters, that when the relieving party approached them, they warned them off, threatening them with their guns; the Muruts fortunately shouted out Orang Kaya Upit’s name and then they were trusted. While sitting round the fires this evening, I noticed a sound like Brooke, and listening more attentively I heard “Tuan Brooke! Tuan Brooke!” continually repeated. I asked what it was they were referring to. One of the interpreters explained how delighted they were to see the adopted son (for so I found I had been introduced) of the great Mr. Brooke, the friend of the aborigines, the fame of whose good deeds had reached even this very secluded people; and their only surprise was that he who had given peace and happiness to the “Southern Dayaks” should neglect to extend his benefits to the Northern. They thought that a word from him would stop all the invasions of the Kayans, and enable them to return to their own regretted country.

I was very anxious to trace the means by which intelligence was conveyed to these Muruts of the peace and plenty that now reigned among the Dayaks of Sarawak, and the way in which it reached this tribe was very simple. When their communities broke up on the Upper Limbang, some fled to the interior, while others made their way down the river to the country at present inhabited nearer the sea. At rare intervals, a party would start to visit their relations, and though, as I have shown, they occasionally suffered heavy losses as at the Naga Surei rapid, yet the practice was kept up. Sir James Brooke’s name is of course very familiar wherever the Malays extend, and, although many would try to prejudice the minds of the aborigines against him and every other Englishman, yet the effect would not be permanent, as they all remember and ponder on that great event, the capture of Brunei by Sir Thomas Cochrane’s squadron.

To those unaccustomed to these oppressed aborigines, it would appear incredible—the awe and fear inspired by the Sultan and his nobles in former times; and the idea was universal that the Bornean government was the greatest and most powerful in the world; but our navy gave a rude shock to that belief, and the joy among the aborigines on hearing that the court was obliged to hide itself in the jungle, and afterwards humbly apologize for its conduct, spread far and near. They now began to give more credence to the stories which had been spread by men like Japer of the power of the English, and of the justice with which our countrymen ruled men. Adang visitors carried back to the far interior imperfect versions of these affairs, but what dwelt in their minds was, that there were some of their countrymen who were happy under the rule of Tuan Brooke.

Though they knew something of him in this way, similar stories reached them from other sources; slowly the news spread through the villages bordering on the Trusan, and were carried up against the stream to meet the same tales brought over by the Kayan envoys, who declared that Tuan Brooke was their great ally, and therefore the Adangs were anxious to secure his influence to put down the Kayan forays.

The highest peak beyond the houses above 5,500 feet is called Lobang Rimau, “The Tigers’ Cave,” about which they tell this story: that formerly a tiger killed a woman; the people turned out, and gave chase; the tigers, eight in number, took refuge in a cave near the peak; the hunters lit a great fire at the entrance, and smoked them to death. Since then there have been no tigers, but the place has been called “Tigers’ Cave” to this day; and it is worth noticing that the Muruts of Padas have a great dread of ascending to the summit of some of their highest mountains, on account of the tigers which still, they say, lurk in the deepest recesses of the forest.

CHAPTER V.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL—continued.

Women’s Ornaments—Adorning in Public—Confidence shown by a young Girl—Geography—Leech Bites—Tapioca—The Manipa Stream—The False and True Brayong—Nothing but Rice to be purchased—Wild Raspberries—Good Shots—The Rifle Carbine—Death of a Kite—Picking a Cocoa-nut—Curious Statement—A Village of Runaways—Proposed Slave Hunt—Disappointment—Appearance of the Women—Old Look of the Children—Devoid of Drapery—Preparing the Plantations—No Goods for Sale—Edible Bird’s-nest Cave—Difficulties in penetrating farther—Determine to return—Climate—New Route—Custom in Drinking similar to the Chinese—Anecdote of Irish Labourers—Change of Plans—Fashion of wearing Brass Wire—Start on a Tour among the Villages—The Burning Path—Village of Purté—Refreshing Drink—The Upper Trusan—Distant Ranges—Inviting and receiving Invitations—Fatal Midnight Revel—Tabari’s Village—Alarm of Orang Kaya Upit—Suspension Bridge—Inhabitants—Scheme of the Adangs to return to their old Districts—Deers’ Horns—Mourning—Difficult Walking—The Tiger’s Leap—Meet Si Puntara—No Real Enemies—Murud—The Gura Peak—The Main Muruts—Salt as well as Slave Dealers—Bearskin Jacket—White Marble—Uncertainty whence procured—Leaden Earrings— Unbecoming Custom—Lofty Mountains—Lawi Cloud-hidden—Muruts busy Farming—Two Harvests a Year—Agricultural Produce plentiful—Obtain a Goat—Dress of the Men—Bead Petticoats—Custom of burying on the Tops of the Lofty Hills—Desecration of Graves—Jars—Discovery of one in Brunei—Similar Millanau Customs.

September 19th.—Many of the women in this village wear fillets of beads round their heads to keep back the hair; it looks well at a distance, but when near, most of them are so dirty that nothing could look well upon them. Here is a girl going out to the fields to work, and she is putting on her ornaments; first, the bands round the head; then a necklace of beads of twenty strings; then a chain made of brass wire, each link four or five inches long, but most of them wear the last ornament round the waist. Perhaps she is in a hurry. One might suppose that these adornments are worn in honour of our visit, as they must be inconvenient to a woman at work.

Yesterday morning, while out walking, a young girl brought me some sticks of sugar-cane; her companions remaining a hundred yards off; for this, in the afternoon, she was duly rewarded with a looking-glass. I like this confidence, and detest the system they have in some tribes of running away shrieking—all false modesty, as they are seldom really afraid. The trade in beads for rice appears brisk, and so we need have no fear about provisions.

I have been trying to understand the geography of this part of Borneo, but I am exceedingly puzzled by the position of Brayong; it bears N. E. by N. The valley leading up to these mountains is very picturesque and park-like, with its extensive clearings and clumps of trees scattered about. To the north the hills slope gently to the rivers, and appear to afford splendid spots for cultivation; from this view, even Brayong appears approachable by a very easy ascent.

I am trying to make arrangements for a six days’ trip in the jungle, in search of new flowers, and also for a reported edible bird’s-nest cave, the latter, most probably, a myth. I am rather troubled by my feet. I have seventy-three wounds on one leg, and seventy-two on the other, all from leech bites, and some of them are festering; but a few days’ rest will probably restore them to a proper walking condition. I dislike living in these little close houses, they are very dirty, and there is little new to observe or to interest. I prefer the freedom of the woods and the freshness of the tents.

20th.—The women are hard at work preparing the tapioca for food; they cut it into slices, then dry it, and afterwards pound it to a flour. Took a walk, notwithstanding my tender feet, as I dislike remaining quiet a whole day. We went down to the stream which runs to the eastward of the village, the Manipa (its bed 2,957 feet); observed only sandstone intermixed with quartz; from thence we ascended to a village on top of the opposite hill (height 4,403 feet), Purté being the name of the rivulet that flows near it.

I might well say yesterday I was puzzled by the position of Brayong, as it turns out not to be Brayong at all. It is not thirty miles off, and the veritable Lawas range, bearing N. 10° W., about thirty miles beyond it. There is also a high mountain, part of the false Brayong, bearing N. Now I am no longer puzzled: the Orang Kaya Upit gave it that name from the marked resemblance of the two ranges. There is a curiously shaped mountain, whose eastern end is very recognizable. I must sketch it in the geographical journal, as I can easily recall it, if ever I ascend the Trusan.

We found the village nearly empty, all the people being away at their farms. We could only purchase a fowl; there were two goats, but the owner was absent. The story of the innumerable goats has indeed faded away; we were equally unsuccessful in our search for fruit, vegetables, or sugar-cane. On our return we picked a great many wild raspberries, which have not very much flavour, but they were refreshing, and in many places the shrubs grew so very thickly as to prevent any other vegetation springing up, and looked like a deserted garden. The plants have a very similar appearance to those grown in England, and are pleasant to look at as reminding one of home. The boys of the village for a few beads collected them by the peck, till we were completely surfeited by them.

I am not a good shot with the rifle, but in my life I have three times startled the natives, and this I did to-day. There were a great many men present, chiefs of the neighbouring villages, and Orang Kaya Upit told me that they had heard of the wonders of the rifle-carbine, that could be fired five times without loading, and they were all anxious that I should discharge it before them; so I looked about for a mark, that if I missed would not be looked upon as a great want of skill.

I observed a large kite perched on a branch of a tree about a hundred and twenty yards off, so I told them I would have a shot at the bird. I remembered that I had once before put a bullet from the same carbine through a hawk, so I had some confidence in the instrument. I fired, and the bird came down without the flutter of a wing, pitching headlong into the jungle below. This intensely excited their admiration. There is no doubt that skill in arms has a great effect upon wild tribes, so I shall never again attempt a difficult shot before them, for fear I should weaken the effect of this one. The carbine was an excellent one, manufactured by Wilkinson of Pall Mall, after Adams’ patent.

Many years ago I landed at Cagayan Sulu, with a large party to buy cattle. A few of the people were most insolent in their manner, and they were all fully armed; after strolling about a little in the blazing sun, we felt very thirsty, and asked the owner of the house near which we were bartering, to let us have a cocoa-nut. He pointed to them, and with an insolent laugh said, “You may have one if you can get it.” I did not wait for a second permission, but without a moment’s thought let fly at the stalk and brought a nut down. I never saw astonishment so visible on men’s countenances; we had no more insolence after that. It was a shot that one might attempt a hundred times without succeeding.

I mention this circumstance as it produced a proposal that gave me some information of which I might otherwise not have heard. I noticed in the evening that the chiefs were more quiet than usual, and that they were talking together in whispers and constantly looking my way. One of them brought me a basin of their native spirit, which is not strong, so I drank it off. Then Orang Kaya Upit unfolded their scheme: he said that formerly all their tribes were very rich in slaves, captives made in their different expeditions, before the time they were so broken up; suddenly, for some reason they did not understand, all the slaves from the neighbouring villages fled in a body and built a strong house a few miles away, from whence they constantly harassed their neighbours, their former masters. They were a bad people, thieves, and murderers, the only disturbers of their peace: it was they who came at night and shot poisoned arrows at the women and children, killing many.

After minutely recounting the evil deeds of this people, he said that the assembled chiefs had often attacked the robbers’ village, but had never succeeded in taking it. They had seen to-day the wonderful effect of fire-arms, and they were quite convinced that if I would join them with my seventeen Malays armed with muskets, we could easily capture the place; that there were not less than sixty families, so that there would be at least a couple of hundred slaves to divide, and that they were willing I should take as many as I liked for myself and men.

My followers looked very eagerly at me, ready at my desire to enter on this slave hunt. I quietly declined joining in the attack, as we had never been injured by their enemies. To this they replied that I should certainly be attacked on my journey home, as these people would have heard of my arrival, and would lie in ambush. I told the Orang Kaya that I would prefer waiting till that event took place; if it did I would turn back, and join them in driving their enemies out of the country. They were disappointed at my determination, and perhaps my men had indulged themselves with the idea of getting a slave apiece. If true, this story of the village of escaped captives is very curious; but it may have been invented to induce me to join in an attack on a tribe of their enemies.

21st.—Many of the inhabitants of the neighbouring villages are coming in to see the stranger. The women are remarkably ill favoured—broad flat faces and extremely dirty, but with many head ornaments, and some of them are tattooed about the arms and legs. Many of the men and women wear round flat pieces of metal or of wood in the holes of their ears instead of earrings, while others have heavy pieces of lead, dragging the ear down to the shoulder, like the Kanowit tribe, I suppose to enlarge the holes to the proper proportions.

It is curious to notice the very old look that many of the boys and girls have, especially the latter: it requires a glance at the bosom to discover whether they are young or not. Their petticoats are of the shortest, sometimes not eight inches broad, and are scarcely decent. The Bengal civilian’s exclamation on seeing the Sarawak Dayaks, “It strikes me that these people are rather devoid of drapery,” would apply better to the Adang ladies.

We have purchased rice for twenty days at extremely moderate rates, bartering with beads. Our guide continues absent on a visit to his relations, which is the cause of our remaining so quiet. The atmosphere around us is filled with smoke from the burning plantations, rendering it quite unpleasant for mouth, nose and eyes: the clearings are very extensive in many places, and as yet not half burnt. Their cultivation is very slovenly—the regular Dayak custom of felling a large extent of jungle, then, when dry, burning all that can be easily burnt, thus leaving the trunks and large branches, and planting rice between them.

I have observed but few tobacco-plants; they smoke what appeared to me a kind of moss, but in reality tobacco badly cured. They are all anxious for goods, but they have nothing to sell; neither goats nor honey, and but few fowls or vegetables, nor do they appear to have wax, camphor or birds’-nests; rice is their only commodity, and that they have in abundance.

4 p.m.—One of the great curiosities of these countries is certainly the edible bird’s-nest caves, and we were promised the sight of an immense one. Luñgenong told us that once, when out hunting, he had followed a pig into a large crevice in the rock, which, however, opened out to an immense size in the interior; and that the sides were covered with a mass of the white nest; of course the old ones would have been of no value, but had they been destroyed, in a few months new ones would have been built, and have been worth a great deal to them. Luñgenong has just returned from a visit to his relations, but though he still persists in his story of the caves, he has changed a three days’ walk into a month’s journey in the forest: we must, he says, carry provisions for the whole distance. This is evidently an invention; perhaps he does not want us to visit his caves, so I have told him I won’t go. I should like to reach the mountain of Lawi, but I have only seven men who can walk.

22nd.—I have almost made up my mind not to try to penetrate farther into the country during this expedition. I think it would be much better to attempt reaching the great mountain of Lawi by ascending the Trusan river from its mouth. The whole country appears inhabited, so that my men would not suffer as they have done during our present expedition up the Limbang: they would have no unusual fatigues, nor any privations to undergo, and our chance would be greater.

It is very improbable indeed that at this season I can get much assistance from these villagers; it is their planting time, and they have a little of that feeling, which we found so prevalent during our Kina Balu trip, of not wishing to help us to go beyond their own village—a sort of jealousy that we may distribute our goods elsewhere. Were my men well I should laugh at such difficulties, and go without a guide; but four of my followers are really ill, eight more have very sore feet, so that in reality I have but five efficient men, which is too few to wander with unless joined to the people of the country. I have succeeded in all the objects with which I started except reaching Lawi, and I have gained such knowledge and experience how to organize the next expedition, that I feel tolerably assured of penetrating during the next excursion very much farther into the country.

The climate among these hills must be very healthy, the air is fresh and cool; even in the middle of the day it is not oppressive, except in certain places. A few days’ farther advance would give us a very superior climate. I regret that I have not sufficient instruments with me to carry out all my views: but even with the imperfect means I possess, I have added considerably to my knowledge of this portion of the interior.

We are making many inquiries respecting the country below us, and the result is that we think that by starting from Brunei with light boats and lighter baggage, we should probably reach these houses in good condition under twelve days; which would enable us to extend our travels immensely during two months. I am longing to push on to the range of mountains we see to the eastward, but after five days’ rest few of the men have recovered from their walk from the Madihit.

The men are drinking arrack around me, and it is interesting to observe the custom of refusing the proffered glass and pressing it on others, the contest continuing even to the danger of spilling the liquor. It is so practised among the Chinese at Sarawak that a cup of tea is often offered and refused by every one in company before the holder will drink it. I must have disconcerted many a thirsty man by accepting the cup before I knew the custom. This puts me in mind of an incident that took place in a rapid run I made between the Cove and Cork. At the door of a public-house were a dozen idle labourers: we stopped there for a glass of ale, and in the exuberance of our spirits ordered four quarts for the idlers: just as we were starting, one of them stepped up to me and said,—“Sir, we never drink but out of our own pints.”

5 p.m.—“Unstable as water,” &c., I might almost say of myself, as my determination of not extending our journey has been upset by the Orang Kaya Upit, who assures me that the people of the interior are expecting me, and Si Nuri has just joined us with a message from Si Puntará, the old hunter we met in the woods, hoping we will come and visit him and his people. So if nothing occur, we shall start to-morrow with such men as can walk, leaving the others to recover strength at this village. I much prefer this plan, as it will enable me to form a better estimate of the facilities of reaching the centre of the island by this route, and I may yet get a look at Lawi. I have constantly borne in mind the whisper I overheard, that only certain privileged individuals are allowed to get a sight of this famous hill.

I have seen many fashions of wearing brass wire, but the most inelegant is that of some of the girls of the neighbouring villages, who twist about a couple of fathoms in circles round their neck, rising from the shoulders to the chin, forming what appears a stiff collar with a very broad base; it is, however, no doubt more pliant than it appears.

23rd.—Commenced our tour among the villages by walking over to the Purté houses: it took us two hours in the broiling sun, although in a direct line not above two miles, and by path not three, but we had to descend about fifteen hundred feet and climb that again; the slopes of the hills very steep: besides we were in no hurry, not intending to pass this village. The leech bites prevent my wearing shoes, and the way being completely open, with no shade whatever, the trunks of trees laid along to form a path were very hot, making the soles of my feet painfully sore; my followers, lazy after a five days’ rest, lagged even in this short walk, but as soon as we reached the houses, a beautiful breeze refreshed us: but even a long bath would not cool my burning feet.

The village of Purté, or Sakalobang, one the name of the rivulet, the other of the buttress, is on a northern spur of the Adang range, which here bends considerably to the eastward. It consists of about forty-five families, and the houses are slightly larger than the last ones, and less confined: this village acknowledges Balang Palo as its head man, as Si Lopong was of the last, and they know the different villages by the names of the chief men, rather than by rivers or hills. After our bathe the villagers refreshed us with a sweet drink, unfermented, made from the roots of the tapioca. I notice here that deer’s horns are much used as pegs on which to hang their swords and fighting jackets. Most of the people are away planting rice, while the neighbouring villagers are burning the felled trees, and filling the air with their smoke. As we advance we obtain better views of the interior, and here the Trusan, under the name of Kalalan, is rather broad, and might perhaps float a canoe.

I shall not make much remark about the country, as I have taken the necessary bearings, and shall see it all so much better from the upper villages. The lofty eastern range is gradually appearing as two, with in one place high white cliffs near the summit; it is too smoky for very good bearings. Noticed a little boy wearing brass wire round the arm from the wrist to the elbow, after the fashion of Sarawak Dayak girls, and many of the absurd brass-wire collars even on young children.

Every principal man seems to consider it necessary to give Orang Kaya Upit, and the other illustrious visitors, a meal or a feast, and it is amusing to watch how the invitation is given and received. The host draws near the crowd, and says,—“Come,” the visitors pretend not to hear: he again repeats, “Come,” more impatiently. They look at anything rather than the speaker, and continue their conversation with more earnestness than ever; after innumerable “Comes,” they at last get up and proceed in solemn procession to the host’s room; and this is carried on throughout the day, the visitors becoming redder and redder in the face as evening approaches, the repeated draughts of arrack having their effect. They gave me a little honey; it does not look inviting, but it tastes tolerably well.

8 p.m.—The whole house is in uproar, from the news arriving of a man having been killed last night during a drunken bout in a neighbouring village: nobody knows who did it, so each of the men took an oath it was not he: they hang up a string of tiger-cat’s teeth, and the men pass under, denying the action; a man refusing to undergo this ordeal is considered guilty. The discussion among the assembled chiefs is very energetic, as each man is trying to suggest how the accident could have occurred; it being their custom when intending to spend the night drinking, to lodge all their arms with the women. The most sensible conjecture was that the spear shaken from its place by the boisterous movements of the drinkers, fell without being touched, and striking the man inside the thigh, cut the femoral artery: they could not stop the bleeding, and the man died almost immediately. At first suspicion fell upon the owner of the spear, but he evidently had not thrown it, yet they felt inclined to fine the man for having possessed so unlucky a weapon. The news of the accident threw a slight damp on the party, and though they kept it up till one, much to my discomfort, yet none of the carousers got intoxicated.

24th.—We advanced to-day four hours in a south-east by east direction to the village of Tabari. I thought yesterday I should get a clearer view at early dawn, but a dense fog hid everything from us; it did not lift till nine, and then only partially, but it showed that what appeared as the southern end of the long range is a separate mountain, but as we shall in all likelihood advance two or three days farther, it is useless to speculate on the probable course of the river. Our path to-day reminded me of the Sarawak Dayak ones, being principally composed of trunks of trees generally notched, disagreeable in descending.

As the morning was cool, our party kept well together, except the Orang Kaya Upit and his relations, who would have bad birds. They are evidently in alarm; what about is rather puzzling, as we are only going to the houses of our last night’s visitors, but they apprehend treachery, and are giving broad hints about returning; to this I will not listen, as they will state no reason for their fears. Tabari’s village, unlike the rest, is on the main river, which thus affords us pleasant baths; it contains twenty-three families. Opposite the houses is one of those bamboo and wooden suspension-bridges, thrown from one tree to another, common in many rivers, and very useful, though they are sometimes very rotten, and will only bear one at a time. (Houses 3,127 feet.) Although we stopped at Tabari’s house, the Orang Kaya Upit would not, but went on to the next village.