CHAPTER VII

The Rejang River deserves a few words of explanation. It is a magnificent roadway to commerce in the interior, and once the head-hunting propensities of the tribes in its neighbourhood are abolished, it promises to be a great centre of activity and trade. A large number of Kayans and Kenyahs are to be found in its tributaries. These people are, next to the Sea Dyaks, the most important and advanced of the tribes of Sarawak, and are scattered about the country in various rivers. They have attained a fairly high degree of civilization, whilst other tribes consist of primitive people called Punans, Ukits, and Bukitans. These do not cultivate land, but rely on the wild fruits and game they find in the forests. Curiously enough, however, as though to show they have descended from a higher civilization, they are able to manufacture the weapon in use amongst so many Bornean tribes—​that thing we call the blow-pipe.[7] The Punans make their temporary homes under leafy shelters, in limestone caves, or in the buttresses of huge trees, called Tapangs, which afford shelter to whole families. When they have exhausted the surrounding localities of their fruits and game, they wander off to some other spot, where their life begins afresh. Notwithstanding their wild state, these people weave beautiful mats and baskets from palms gathered in the vicinity. They ornament such articles with patterns which must have been handed down to them from time immemorial—​another proof of their probable degradation from a higher form of existence. A favourite pattern of theirs is the Greek “key” pattern. They are very shy, and might perhaps—​from fear, but not from malice—​kill a stranger wandering near their settlements.

After remaining some weeks in the Rejang, and when peace had been restored amongst the disturbed people, who began to resume work on their farms, the Rajah and I left Sibu and our kind hosts, Mr. Skelton and Mr. Low, for a trip to the Batang Lupar. We embarked once more on the Heartsease, and steamed down the left-hand branch of the Rejang, when, on leaving the mouth of the river, we steered due south, passing the mouths of the Kalakah and Saribas Rivers. We had, alas for me, about four hours of sea to negotiate before we found smooth water again, so that I did not see much of the coast. The sea was supposed to be calm, but a hateful swell drove me to the cabin. I went on deck after we had passed over the bar of the Batang Lupar. I could not believe it to be a river; the shores were so far off, with a stretch of four miles of water between them, and this width continued all down the straight reach as far as Lingga.

Lingga was a desolate place. Its Fort was built on a mud-bank. A small Malay village, its houses built on stilts, lined the banks, and were surrounded by cocoa-nut palms, which palms are said to flourish in brackish water. The present Rajah made this place his home for one year, moving from thence in 1854. He resided in this Batang Lupar district for about ten years, whence he led many punitive expeditions into the interior. The old pirate chief, Rentap, who committed so many crimes, murdered so many people, and prevented peace from settling on the land, was entrenched with his miscreant tribe in neighbouring mountains, and was repeatedly attacked by the present Rajah, who finally dislodged him from his fastnesses, and rendered him harmless by his many defeats. It was from the banks of the Batang Lupar River that the Rajah’s friendly Dyaks, sometimes numbering twelve to fourteen thousand men, were gathered together to follow their white chief in his many attacks against the pirate’s Fort. For years the present Rajah is said never to have slept securely on account of the incessant alarms and attacks on innocent people by this inveterate head-hunting pirate, who, in spite of a very advanced age, managed to work so much havoc in the neighbourhood.

We did not land at Lingga on this occasion, but went on to a settlement near a place called Banting, where the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel had charge over a thriving community of Christians. Bishop Chambers, whose name can never be forgotten in the annals of Sarawak, here began his work of civilization as a missionary. He was a great friend of the present Rajah, and for many years, these two men, in their different ways, worked unremittingly for the good of the natives. This missionary settlement is about fifteen miles by river from Lingga, and it was here that I had my first experience of travelling in a Dyak war-boat.

These vessels are comfortable enough, being about seven feet wide amidships by about seventy feet in length. A crew, numbering some fifty, paddled us along. A roofed compartment in the middle of the canoe, furnished with mattresses and pillows, afforded us comfortable accommodation, and curtains hanging from the roof kept off the heat and glare from the river in the daytime; whilst the rhythmical noise of the paddles, and occasional wild bursts of songs from the crew helped to make the journey a pleasant one.

As the crew shipped their paddles, I saw a long Dyak house, propped on stilts about forty feet high, planted some yards from the river-bank. As this place was situated within reach of the tide and we arrived at low water, a vast expanse of mud stretched between us and dry land. I could see nothing in the way of a landing-stage to help our way to the house, excepting a few poles dovetailing one another laid across the mud, supported by trestles. I wondered how I was to get across, but not liking to make inquiries of an unpleasant nature, I said nothing; it is better in any emergency to let events take their course with as little fuss as possible, so that when our canoe was pushed by the side of the supported poles, I kept silent. I remember noticing how cleverly our Dyak crew manœuvred our boat, plunging knee-deep into the mud in their efforts, and yet moving about quickly all the time. The Rajah led the way and walked along some six or seven yards of the poles leading to the Dyak village. I admired the way in which he kept his balance, never slipping once during the journey. When my turn came, four Dyaks helped me out of the boat. My progress across the poles was not a graceful one, for I found them to be as slippery as glass. My four supporters, two on each side of me, must have suffered severely, as I slid first on one side and then on the other. However, their kindly efforts prevented me from taking headers into the mud. But my troubles were not yet over. I saw, leaning against the house at a steep angle, another long pole with notches cut in it all the way up to the door of the building. I saw the Rajah hopping up this small cylindrical stairway with the agility of a gazelle. No explanation was given to me, but the Dyaks signed to me that I had to do the same, so I tried to climb the pole. It was only about twenty inches in circumference, so it will be realized that this was a disconcerting sight to a person unaccustomed to acrobatic feats. However, the Rajah seemed to take it as a matter of course, and I tried to do the same, but the difficulty of turning one’s feet out to the right angle was very trying at first. I clasped the pole with great fervour as I went up, and one of the Dyaks behind me took hold of my ankles, placing my feet on each notch with great care. A Dyak in front of me held my left hand and with my right I clutched the bamboo pole, and thus, with a good deal of slipping and a great deal of fright, I managed to reach the verandah of the house.

An extraordinary thing happened on this visit. In every Dyak house of note—​and this was the residence of a great Dyak chief, called Banting—​a portion of the building is assigned entirely to the women of the tribe. On this occasion, the women were anxious that I should visit them in their room, which I did. The room was a large one and was simply crammed. A little stool covered with yellow calico and a fine Dyak mat were prepared for me, and the women and children squatted all round me on the floor. They took hold of my hands and pushed up my sleeves to see if my arms were white all the way up. I had with me one of the Mission people, who acted as interpreter. He told me that the women wanted me to give them medicine to make their noses stand out from their faces as mine did; they also wanted medicine to make their skin white. Babies were brought to me to touch, and I promised to

send them pills for their various ailments from Kuching. The women gave me a basket they had made for me, and then showed me their mats which they make so cleverly, their hats, and their paddles—​much in the same way English women would show their collection of fans. The conversation went on merrily, when suddenly we heard some ominous cracks underneath our feet, and before I knew where I was, the flooring had given way and the women and children, the interpreter, and I, were plunged about four feet through the floor. We hung in bags, as it were, for the mats covering the floor were secured to the sides of the walls, and these prevented us from dropping to the ground below. The Dyak warriors sprang forward and helped me into safety. The women screamed, and I never heard such a noise in all my life. The Rajah, in the distance, sat imperturbably on, as though nothing out of the way was happening. I think he could see there was no great danger and that the mats would support us. When the dignity of the situation allowed him to do so, he came to where the accident had taken place and said to me, “It is all right, the room was overcrowded. You had better come into the verandah and then everything will be quite safe.” He was pleased with the manner in which I had taken this catastrophe, and the Dyak chiefs told him it was evident that I knew how to behave in emergencies.

We then returned to our boats. To make a long story short, I found the return down the notched pole even more difficult than the going up, but it is wonderful how soon one gets accustomed to anything out of the ordinary run of things, and I went away from Banting very much delighted with my experience in the first Dyak house I had visited.

We rejoined the Heartsease at Lingga and steamed to Kuching, which we reached the next morning.