CHAPTER X

There are certain animals in Sarawak, very little mentioned by travellers, with which we are always surrounded. These are the lizards which run up and down the walls of all houses in the tropics. They are light grey-green in colour, make a funny little noise, and on this account the natives call them chik-chak. They have the peculiar and rather disagreeable property of shedding their tails; once or twice they have dropped these appendages on to my head as they ran to and fro on the ceiling. It sometimes happens that if a picture or a piece of furniture standing against a wall is moved, a very large black chik-chak, about twice the size of an ordinary chik-chak, will come out from behind these shelters. I have noticed that a great many rooms are inhabited by one of these black chik-chak ensconced behind such safe retreats, and these giants of the same species are called by Malays, “Rajah chi-chak.”

One might also make remarks of an uncomplimentary nature about centipedes and scorpions, but I know very little about these formidable insects—​if they are insects. I only remember on a certain afternoon, when getting up from my usual siesta, I saw on the muslin walls of my mosquito house a large black thing looking like a miniature lobster. I called the Rajah, who at once recognized it as an enormous scorpion. He took hold of a spear leaning against the wall, so as to kill it, well knowing the awful effects of its sting. I could never have believed what a difficult thing it is to kill a scorpion. Its shell is apparently so thick that it takes a long time to give it its death-blow. I hate seeing anything killed (although on this occasion it was absolutely necessary), so I rushed out of the room. Needless to say, the Rajah ultimately dispatched it.

As for snakes, I am not going to say a word against them. They are the most beautiful creatures one can possibly see, and in my experience they are not nearly so deadly or so dangerous as people seem to think. The most deadly snake in Sarawak is the much-feared hamadryad. Its dangerous character comes from its very virtues. Whenever a hamadryad is laying her eggs, her mate looks after her safety, and resents the presence of any human being within yards of where she has her nest. One afternoon, one of our Malay servants came screaming up the steps leading from the garden to our verandah, closely followed by one of these hamadryads, and had not a Guard seen her danger and killed the snake, she must have been dead in three or four seconds.

Although beasts of prey, such as tigers, panthers, etc., are unknown in Sarawak, the most dangerous reptile in the country is without doubt the crocodile. I do not think that any statistics have been taken of the loss to human life caused by these creatures in Sarawak, but that their victims are numerous is certain, for every one living in the country has known, or has witnessed, the destructive powers of these creatures. I remember when we were at dinner one evening, we heard the most terrible commotion in one of the little streams running around our garden. They came from a man and from the women folk of his house, and we sent to inquire the cause. We were told that the man had gone to bathe in the creek near his house, and had been seized by a crocodile. The man had laid hold of the log which served as a landing-stage, and the crocodile had managed to tear off one of his legs. He was taken to his house, and although our English doctor did all he could for him, he died the next morning.

I have often, in my excursions up and down the river, been followed in our small river boat by these reptiles, and generally the boat boys were the first to see the tiny conical roofs above their eyes—​the only portion to be seen above the water—​and as these move swiftly towards the boat, you conclude that you are being followed by a crocodile. The experience is not a pleasant one, although it is seldom that the reptile is powerful enough to upset a canoe capable of carrying six or seven people. The danger to the inhabitants of Sarawak lies in the fact that they go about from one house to another on the river-banks in very small canoes, which only hold one person. Sometimes the canoe is so small you can hardly see its wooden sides, and its solitary occupant appears as though he were sitting on the water, paddling himself along. Both men and women are very skilful in the management of any craft on the waters of these rivers, and despite the fact that crocodiles often with a swish of their tails knock the boats in the air, and seize the occupants as they fall back into the river, paddle in hand, the people seem quite indifferent to the risks they run in these small canoes.

A great many years ago, before Kuching became as civilized as it is now, and when it had few steamers on the river, an enormous crocodile, some twenty feet in length, was the terror of the neighbourhood for three or four months during the north-east monsoon—​the rainy season of the country. Our Malay quartermaster on board the Heartsease was seized by this monster as he was leaving the Rajah’s yacht to go to his house, a few yards from the bank, in his little canoe. It was at night that the crocodile seized him, the canoe being found empty the next morning. Although no one had actually witnessed the calamity, it was certain the poor man had been taken by the monster. This was his first victim, but others followed in quick succession. The crocodile could be seen patrolling the river daily, but it is very difficult to catch or shoot such a creature. At length the Rajah, becoming anxious at the turn affairs were taking, issued a proclamation offering a handsome reward to any one who should succeed in catching the crocodile. This proclamation was made with as much importance as possible. The executioner, Subu, bearing the Sarawak flag, was given a large boat, manned by twenty paddles, painted in the Sarawak colours, and sent up and down the river reading the proclamation at the landing-stages of Malay houses. Looking from my window one morning, I saw the boat gaily decorated and looking very important on the river, with the yellow umbrella of office folded inside and the proclamation from the Rajah being read. A few yards behind the boat I imagined I could see, through my opera glasses, the water disturbed by some huge body following it. The natives had noticed this too, and it was absolutely proved that wherever the boat went up or down the river, the monster followed it, as if in derision of the proclamation.

A great deal of etiquette had to be observed after the capture of this crocodile. As it was being towed a captive to the place of execution, the process to be observed required that it should be first brought to the Rajah, and until it was safely landed in the Rajah’s garden, the most complimentary speeches were made to it: “You are a Rajah”; “You must come and see your brother”; “You are the light of the day”; “You are the sun and moon shining over the land,” etc. These flattering remarks were made by the captors as they dragged the huge scaly thing to its doom, but once it was safely in the presence of the Rajah, it was made a target for the most insulting language. I saw the crocodile as it lay helpless with its paws tied over its back in the Rajah’s garden. The Malays were careful to keep out of reach of the switch of its tail, as one blow from it would have seriously injured anyone who went too near. The Rajah having passed sentence, the reptile was dragged off to be killed by having its head cut off. This done, the body was opened, when human remains, together with the rings and clothes of our unfortunate quartermaster, were found, thus proving our surmises as to his death to be correct.

Full of excitement and zeal after what had taken place, the Malays who had captured the crocodile considered that the deceased quartermaster’s silver ring, in which was set a diamond of the country, should be presented to me. Therefore, Talip, holding the ring between his thumb and forefinger, with many bows and ceremonious speeches, brought it to me for my acceptance. I am sorry to say that my feelings were too strong for me on the occasion, and I could not possibly touch the thing. I was so sorry, and told Talip I was grateful for such kindness, but that I thought the ring ought to belong to the victim’s wife or daughter. I sent my thanks for the kind thought, and was very glad when Talip and the ring disappeared from view. So ended the history of the great crocodile, whose doings are even now spoken of in Sarawak.

As we are on the subject of animals, we must not forget to talk about those very delightful creatures, the monkeys. A most delicious Gibbon exists in Sarawak, which the natives call the wah-wah; it is the one which imitates the sound of running water in the morning. Wah-wahs are easily tamed, and quickly take to human beings. I was presented with one of these little animals by Datu Isa, wife of the Datu Bandar, and its pathetic little jet black face, its round, beady, frightened eyes, its grey fur fitting its head like the wig of a clown, soft almost as that of the chinchilla but thicker and longer, and its black arms and legs, made it a beautiful little creature. Datu Isa placed the animal in my arms, when it clung to me as children do. The care of this little being, so helpless, so frightened, so full of a want of affection, really made me quite miserable. I tried to give it the food it liked, I took great care of it and kept it always with me when I was in the house, but it went the way of beautiful sensitive animals taken by kind ignorance into the company of human beings. Like most monkeys of its kind in captivity, the poor little wah-wah developed pneumonia a few months after it had been given to me, and died. It was a great grief to me, and I begged my Malay friends, as kindly as I could, not to give me any more such charming and yet such sorrowful presents. The wah-wah cannot live in captivity, for it is the lack of their own natural food that kills these delicate creatures, though they will eat almost anything, even cocoa-nut, which is fatal to them.

A friend of mine, a Malay woman living in the Malay town near our house, possessed an Albino wah-wah. It was considered a powerful “mascotte,” and it lived with her people some time. It must have died during one of my visits to England, for I never heard of it again after I left Sarawak for the first time. On my return, I asked my native women friends what had happened to it, but they were very reticent in giving me news of the little creature. At last they said: “It went to another world, and we would rather not talk about it any more.”

Another interesting animal in Sarawak is the buffalo. These animals are tiresome when they come into contact with Europeans. In fact, they are dangerous to meet, should they be uncontrolled by natives. Natives, apparently, can do what they like with them. They never ill-treat the animals, but talk to them as though they were human, this treatment making the beasts tame and easy to manage. In one of our settlements, near a coal-mine, where buffaloes were required to drag trucks of coal to and from the mines to the landing-stage, whence it was shipped to Kuching and Singapore, the animals were housed in stables made of palm leaves, and their keepers, who were Boyans, stayed with them. In course of time, the stables became unfit for habitation either for man or beast. The Rajah therefore ordered new stables to be built for the buffaloes and their keepers. When the new stables were finished and ready for their reception, it was noticed that neither the buffaloes nor their keepers made any use of them. The Rajah, hearing this, made inquiries, when the overseer of the coal-mine, a native who wrote English, sent the Rajah a dispatch informing him that the animals were so much annoyed and put out with their new quarters that they absolutely refused to occupy them, and therefore their keepers, not wishing to incur the displeasure of their friends, preferred to stay in the leaky dwellings. In course of time the question was satisfactorily solved, for the Rajah being of a tactful nature, usually surmounts difficulties that may arise with any of his subjects, men or buffaloes.