CHAPTER VII.

[Contents]CHAPTER VII.JOURNEY UP THE RIVER—POISONS, HOW THEY ARE MADE—THE SOENGEI MOEROI—THE MEETING WITH BAPA ANDONG—BEE-HUNTING—HEAD-HUNTERS AGAIN—A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.“Confound this stream,” La Cueille muttered to himself, “one can hardly perceive that we are making any progress.”It was indeed at the cost of much labor and fatigue that any way was made through the water. The canoe seemed to glide backward and forward without advancing a single yard, though the crew used their oars with all the power at their command. This was the result of the numerous obstructions which lay in their way. It required an intimate knowledge of the river to be able to weather promontories, to cut off corners, to avoid curves, to utilize currents and to steer clear of sand-banks. But their chief danger lay in the vast quantities of dead trees that were fixed in the bed of the river. Torn away from the banks by storms or inundations, these trees are carried along by the stream a considerable distance, until they become caught by some under lying shoal or sand bank to which they attach themselves and become permanently planted. Collision with such snags is one of the greatest dangers of river navigation, as it generally proves[111]fatal to the vessel. Dalim and his compatriots kept a sharp lookout and by their vigilance and adroitness prevented many a mishap which might have endangered their lives and involved the utter destruction of the canoe.La Cueille found this hard rowing peculiarly irksome. He looked at his arm from time to time, but the cut made by Wienersdorf was healing well without any inflammatory symptom. There was nothing to be seen but a black circle, which Dalim informed him was always present after similar wounds by poisonous weapons, whether the wounded person died or recovered.Upon Wienersdorf enquiring from what these poisons were made, Dalim informed him that the two principal kinds used by the Dayaks were known under the names of siren and ipoh. They were both vegetable poisons, but no specific botanical name was known for the trees from which they were obtained. About the preparation of the poisons, however, Dalim after repeated requests gave the following account.In the interior of Borneo, and especially along the slopes of mountains and hills, there grows a tree called batang siren by the natives. Like our oak this tree reaches the age of a hundred years and more. A white milky fluid flows from it when tapped, which is collected in a little bamboo cylinder. On contact with the air, this sap soon loses its color, turns first yellow, then brown and finally black. When it leaves the tree the fluid is perfectly harmless and only acquires its poisonous properties after evaporation and admixture with other plants. The sap having been properly treated and thickened is poured into a stone jar while warm; upon cooling it soon coagulates. The Dayaks always[112]carry this jar with them fastened to the waistband from which their mandauws depend. When required for use it is again heated in order to liquefy it. The points of their arrows are then dipped in it and speedily become covered with a thin layer of gum which dries immediately.The first symptom shown by the wounded is a copious vomiting. This is followed by paralysis of the limbs, which continues for about ten minutes, when death ensues amid violent convulsions.The ipoh is prepared in a similar manner, but that poison is taken from a creeper. The only difference between the effects of the ipoh and siren poisons is that the former is not attended by vomiting.Every Dayak knows how to prepare both these poisons, but as the plants and the accessory ingredients are chiefly found in the mountainous districts, the inhabitants of the upper countries are more expert in their preparation than the natives of the coast.Aboutmid-dayour travellers approached the soengei Moeroi. When trying to row past it they saw a raft coming down this broad soengei. It carried three men, who were employing all their strength in the effort to stop the course of their unmanageable craft. One of them called for assistance, and as according to the custom of the country a refusal was not to be dreamed of, Dalim steered his boat toward the raft and was soon moored alongside of it.It was being rapidly carried away by the strong tide; therefore the first thing to be done was to make for the shore and to[113]moor it there. Our adventurers soon produced their rattan cables, as well as the anchor chains which they had taken with them from soengei Naning. Having joined these firmly together, they fastened one end to a kind of capstan on the raft while the other end was carried ashore in a djoekoeng and tied around the trunk of a strong tree. The raft was still drifting onward with the current when the cable being drawn taut, its progress was suddenly arrested. The result was a violent shock which pitched Schlickeisen and La Cueille headlong into the river; but they were soon rescued by Dalim and some of his new friends.The cable stood the shock admirably; it remained stretched like a cord, though the raft trembled under the pressure of the tide. Presently the unwieldy structure swung around toward the shore, when they managed by the aid of the capstan to bring it gradually nearer the tree, to which it was eventually fastened by the cable.Our travellers now learned that the owner of the raft, a native of Kwala Kapoeas named Bapa Andong, had been collecting forest products in soengei Moeroi and had been very successful. He now was on his way to Lake Ampang, where he had various kinds of produce safely stored: but being short-handed he was unable to take his raft there against the tide. He now addressed himself to Johannes, whom he regarded as the leader of the party, and proposed that they should all help him in the navigation of his unwieldy craft. His son, with six hirelings, was awaiting his arrival at the lake, and he felt anxious about their safety. It was at length settled that our travellers should assist in taking the raft to the lake and in embarking all the goods[114]there stored; that they should then bring the raft back again into the Kapoeas stream, after which their further assistance would be unnecessary.Before concluding these arrangements the bargain was struck that when they should separate the two hirelings should be transferred to the canoes of our adventurers.This contract concluded, work commenced. The raft being fastened by a second rope, the cable was loosened from the tree and carried by a djoekoeng up the stream as far as it would reach, when it was attached to another tree. The capstan was again manned and the raft thus worked further up stream against the tide. This manœuvre was repeated again and again with success. One can imagine the difficulty of the task, especially to the Europeans, who were quite unused to that kind of work; but it gave them a clear insight into the activity of the people among whom they found themselves, and exhibited the fertility of resource possessed by the children of nature.The raft on which they now stood consisted of two hundred logs of timber of excellent quality tied firmly together by rattan cables. A floor was laid over these logs and in the centre of the raft a roomy hut was constructed. Under a roof extending from the sides of this hut the products were safely housed. The raft carried nearly four thousand trusses of rattan, a couple of thousand gantangs of rosin, a hundred pikols of bees-wax, twenty pikols of India rubber and a small parcel of birds’ nests. The last two Bapa Andong had exchanged for bees-wax with some traders from the upper country. The other goods were the products of his own labor. The rattan had been cut in the surrounding[115]soengeis, the rosin was partly gathered from the trees and partly collected along the banks of the river.It was quite evening when the raft shot the last projection and the entrance of the channel which forms the junction between the lake and the river became visible. The crew was exhausted with fatigue, rest was accordingly absolutely necessary. As there was no earthly possibility of steering the raft through the narrow canal in the darkness they moored it to the shore, after which part of the crew landed to clear the ground for some distance, so as to command an unobstructed view of the surrounding country. The shrubs and trees thus cut down were formed into a kind of entrenchment at the edge of the clearing to prevent the possibility of a surprise. They further divided their men into two watches, who would alternately take duty and keep a lookout, Johannes taking care that he and La Cueille should remain with one party while the two Swiss would join the other division.As soon as daylight appeared our travellers resumed their labors, and after an hour’s hard toil the raft was steered into the channel. The sun had nearly risen above the horizon when they had their craft safely moored against the landing-stage to receive the rest of its cargo. The lading was executed so rapidly that by the afternoon everything was ready on board for the resumption of their journey.But a considerable task had yet to be accomplished. Since Bapa Andong had originally begun collecting his forest products, a work which had occupied him about six months, hundreds of swarms of bees had made their nests in the trees growing on the western[116]bank of the lake. The trees chosen by these little insects are high, with straight and smooth trunks and far spreading branches. The Dayaks call these wood-giants “tanggirang,” and in favorable seasons from two to three hundred bees’ nests may be found in a single tree. From the moment Bapa Andong first observed these industrious insects commencing their labor he had begun to make his preparations for collecting their produce at the proper time. He had daily driven spikes of hard wood into each tree at a distance of about a foot and a half, until these primitive ladders reached the lower branches. The task took him a long time to complete, but it could not be hastened as the continuous hammering at the spikes would undoubtedly have disturbed the bees and rendered an attack from them certain.His hirelings now cleared the ground around the trees of every shrub and weed; and all being ready for action they awaited a favorable opportunity to commence operations. This soon came.It was a boisterous night and the wind blew as if determined to uproot every tree; the sky was covered with thick clouds and the darkness was so great that everything seemed as if enveloped in black. They were now seventeen men in all, including Bapa Andong’s son and the six hirelings found on the borders of the lake. By means of the canoe belonging to our adventurers and of the two additional djoekoengs, they crossed the foaming waters of the lake to the other side where the bee trees stood. Arrived there they stepped ashore and spread large linen sheets on four posts in such a manner that the corners being raised up they formed monster sacks. When these were ready they set fire to some previously prepared torches of green resinous wood,[117]of which each Dayak took one and rapidly mounted the ladders. Only one man climbed each tree, while Bapa Andong with the four Europeans kept watch in the dark beneath rifles in hand.The hirelings mounted rapidly and began to beat the numerous nests. The bees, as if determined to drown the noise of the raging storm, came out buzzing loudly to attack the intruders, but blinded by the light of the torches and suffocated by the smoke they were driven rapidly away by the violent storm and fell by hundreds of thousands on the other side of the lake. As soon as the swarms had disappeared the men, armed with bamboo knives, eagerly commenced to free the nests from the branches and to drop them into the sacks beneath. All this took but little time to accomplish and the men had already descended ere the Europeans recovered from their astonishment. The sight of those naked brown figures with flowing locks rapidly mounting the trees under the faint glimmer of their torches, their bodies bending over the branches high up in the air, the torches moving to and fro and enveloping everything in a dark smoke; the noise of the storm and the hum of the millions of bees—all these seemed so surprising, so weird, that they could fancy themselves to be dreaming but for the numerous nests dripping with honey which lay at their feet.“They are brave fellows!” La Cueille burst forth.“With quickness and dexterity, combined with cool calculation,” remarked Schlickeisen, “not a single accident has happened to mar the undertaking.”The bees’ nests were speedily stored away in the boat and the whole expedition returned long before midnight.[118]After all the nests had been placed upon a stage to drip, the night-watch was re-established as on the previous evening and half of the crew retired to rest.Rest, however, seems a strange fiction in the Dayak countries. Certainly the first hours passed undisturbed, but the woodcock, which the natives call takakak from its note, had hardly sounded its morning cry about three o’clock when young Andong fancied he heard a slight noise from the side of the wood. He remained at his post as immovable as a monument, listened and signalled to his mates without making any audible sound. They all pricked up their ears and listened likewise. A movement was heard like creeping bodies trying to force a passage through the protecting wood-work and shrubs. Fortunately the storm had abated, or the suspicious sounds would not have been heard. The sleeping party was awakened with the least possible noise and preparations were made for a fight. The Europeans kept close together, having theirfire-armsnear at hand. But as these seemed almost useless in the intense darkness they, like the Dayaks whom they were impersonating, took each a strong mandauw, intending to make good use of it.Bapa Andong, however, whispered something to Johannes which was answered with a smile and a nod; and as soon as the nature of this communication was imparted to the others the entire party prepared for action. The two Swiss took up their Remington rifles and La Cueille and Johannes their breech-loaders, while each of them was additionally provided with a revolver and the two remaining rifles were loaded for use in case of emergency.[119]Everything being now arranged the defenders waited with beating hearts. Nothing could be distinguished in the black darkness of the night; all they heard was a shuffling noise or the snapping of small twigs. Suddenly however about twenty figures rose as from the lake itself and jumped upon the raft, shouting their usual war cry, “Lēēēēh lèlèlèlè ouiiiit!”The occupants of the raft knew that they were outnumbered and if their stratagem failed a fight for life or death would be unavoidable, probably resulting in their annihilation. It was a demoniacal scene to see those wild Indians leap to and fro crouched behind their shields with mandauw in hand and to hear them loudly challenging their adversaries, from whom however not a sound proceeded. This silence seemed to baffle the assailants.Suddenly a few figures were seen to appear in the dark at the end of the raft upon which the defenders were located. These leaped into the midst of the assailants, dealt a few smart blows among them and then as quietly disappeared. The enemy again shouted their war cry, banded themselves closer together and covered by their shields ran along the planks which communicated with the raft. A couple of figures presented themselves as if they wished to dispute their passage, but these also disappeared rapidly; when suddenly a brightly burning flame ascended from the top of the heap of rattan trusses stored in the centre of the raft and at the same moment a heavy rifle fire was opened upon the now visible assailants. Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen fired their Remingtons lustily against the enemy, who had crept almost against the muzzles of their guns. La Cueille[120]and Johannes forming the second file first discharged their rifles and then followed up with the fire of their revolvers, while it almost rained mandauw blows from the heap of rattan. It is impossible to describe the consternation amongst the enemy caused by this sudden and strong illumination and the subsequent destructive firing, very few bullets of which missed their aim. An undulating movement was observed, first backwards, then forwards; cries of rage and pain intermixed proceeded from every direction; it seemed as if the furies themselves had broken loose. At length the small number remaining divided themselves into two parties, the larger one of which took to flight, leaped ashore and disappeared in the obscurity, while the other, jumping across their own slain, made a last and desperate effort in a hand to hand fight. Shots fell uninterruptedly; the brave little band became smaller and smaller until the last remaining two of them threw themselves on the floor and by creeping along endeavored to reach their opponents with their naked mandauws. One of them was almost immediately staked to the floor of the raft by Schlickeisen. The other creeping cautiously forward raised himself and lifted his mandauw to deal a fatal blow at Wienersdorf who, seeing no chance of averting the stroke, suddenly dropped his rifle and grasped the wrists of his adversary so tightly as to compel him to relinquish his weapon. A terrible struggle now took place between the two men, who knew that the life of one of them was at stake. A few inches only separated them from the water. They were struggling breast to breast with such rapidity of movement that any interference from the others must have endangered the one as much as the other. At last the[121]strength of the less muscular Dayak became exhausted. Wienersdorf noticing this kicked the fallen mandauw into the lake, and making a last violent effort lifted both arms of his enemy and bending them forcibly backwards compelled the panting Dayak to sink upon his knees before him.“Blako ampoen!” I beg for mercy! cried the native.The Swiss hearing these words uttered in a soft and imploring voice released his enemy and offered him his hand, which the native still on his knees hesitated to take. His chest heaved violently and his eyes shone like fire. At last he leaped to his feet, took the offered hand, placed it on his head and bent his proud neck as a token of submission. While doing this he gave utterance to some words which were not understood by any of his hearers.The son of the forest remained standing thus for a few moments. He then suddenly lifted his head, took his knife, made a slight wound in the flesh of his arm, collected the flowing blood in the palm of his hand and smeared some of it upon the forehead and lips of Wienersdorf, who stood looking on as if paralyzed. He then slightly wounded the Swiss, collected his blood also and rubbed it over his own forehead and lips, after which he swallowed the remaining drops. He again took the hand of the conqueror, pressed it fervently and brought it to his lips, plainly uttering the words “Harimaoung Boekit,” tiger of the mountains. Then before any one had time to prevent him he leaped into the lake, the dark water of which closed above his head.[122]Just at that moment, as if nature desired to contribute to the escape of the savage, a wind squall suddenly extinguished the burning flame and enveloped the occupants of the raft in total darkness.[123]

CHAPTER VII.JOURNEY UP THE RIVER—POISONS, HOW THEY ARE MADE—THE SOENGEI MOEROI—THE MEETING WITH BAPA ANDONG—BEE-HUNTING—HEAD-HUNTERS AGAIN—A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

JOURNEY UP THE RIVER—POISONS, HOW THEY ARE MADE—THE SOENGEI MOEROI—THE MEETING WITH BAPA ANDONG—BEE-HUNTING—HEAD-HUNTERS AGAIN—A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

“Confound this stream,” La Cueille muttered to himself, “one can hardly perceive that we are making any progress.”It was indeed at the cost of much labor and fatigue that any way was made through the water. The canoe seemed to glide backward and forward without advancing a single yard, though the crew used their oars with all the power at their command. This was the result of the numerous obstructions which lay in their way. It required an intimate knowledge of the river to be able to weather promontories, to cut off corners, to avoid curves, to utilize currents and to steer clear of sand-banks. But their chief danger lay in the vast quantities of dead trees that were fixed in the bed of the river. Torn away from the banks by storms or inundations, these trees are carried along by the stream a considerable distance, until they become caught by some under lying shoal or sand bank to which they attach themselves and become permanently planted. Collision with such snags is one of the greatest dangers of river navigation, as it generally proves[111]fatal to the vessel. Dalim and his compatriots kept a sharp lookout and by their vigilance and adroitness prevented many a mishap which might have endangered their lives and involved the utter destruction of the canoe.La Cueille found this hard rowing peculiarly irksome. He looked at his arm from time to time, but the cut made by Wienersdorf was healing well without any inflammatory symptom. There was nothing to be seen but a black circle, which Dalim informed him was always present after similar wounds by poisonous weapons, whether the wounded person died or recovered.Upon Wienersdorf enquiring from what these poisons were made, Dalim informed him that the two principal kinds used by the Dayaks were known under the names of siren and ipoh. They were both vegetable poisons, but no specific botanical name was known for the trees from which they were obtained. About the preparation of the poisons, however, Dalim after repeated requests gave the following account.In the interior of Borneo, and especially along the slopes of mountains and hills, there grows a tree called batang siren by the natives. Like our oak this tree reaches the age of a hundred years and more. A white milky fluid flows from it when tapped, which is collected in a little bamboo cylinder. On contact with the air, this sap soon loses its color, turns first yellow, then brown and finally black. When it leaves the tree the fluid is perfectly harmless and only acquires its poisonous properties after evaporation and admixture with other plants. The sap having been properly treated and thickened is poured into a stone jar while warm; upon cooling it soon coagulates. The Dayaks always[112]carry this jar with them fastened to the waistband from which their mandauws depend. When required for use it is again heated in order to liquefy it. The points of their arrows are then dipped in it and speedily become covered with a thin layer of gum which dries immediately.The first symptom shown by the wounded is a copious vomiting. This is followed by paralysis of the limbs, which continues for about ten minutes, when death ensues amid violent convulsions.The ipoh is prepared in a similar manner, but that poison is taken from a creeper. The only difference between the effects of the ipoh and siren poisons is that the former is not attended by vomiting.Every Dayak knows how to prepare both these poisons, but as the plants and the accessory ingredients are chiefly found in the mountainous districts, the inhabitants of the upper countries are more expert in their preparation than the natives of the coast.Aboutmid-dayour travellers approached the soengei Moeroi. When trying to row past it they saw a raft coming down this broad soengei. It carried three men, who were employing all their strength in the effort to stop the course of their unmanageable craft. One of them called for assistance, and as according to the custom of the country a refusal was not to be dreamed of, Dalim steered his boat toward the raft and was soon moored alongside of it.It was being rapidly carried away by the strong tide; therefore the first thing to be done was to make for the shore and to[113]moor it there. Our adventurers soon produced their rattan cables, as well as the anchor chains which they had taken with them from soengei Naning. Having joined these firmly together, they fastened one end to a kind of capstan on the raft while the other end was carried ashore in a djoekoeng and tied around the trunk of a strong tree. The raft was still drifting onward with the current when the cable being drawn taut, its progress was suddenly arrested. The result was a violent shock which pitched Schlickeisen and La Cueille headlong into the river; but they were soon rescued by Dalim and some of his new friends.The cable stood the shock admirably; it remained stretched like a cord, though the raft trembled under the pressure of the tide. Presently the unwieldy structure swung around toward the shore, when they managed by the aid of the capstan to bring it gradually nearer the tree, to which it was eventually fastened by the cable.Our travellers now learned that the owner of the raft, a native of Kwala Kapoeas named Bapa Andong, had been collecting forest products in soengei Moeroi and had been very successful. He now was on his way to Lake Ampang, where he had various kinds of produce safely stored: but being short-handed he was unable to take his raft there against the tide. He now addressed himself to Johannes, whom he regarded as the leader of the party, and proposed that they should all help him in the navigation of his unwieldy craft. His son, with six hirelings, was awaiting his arrival at the lake, and he felt anxious about their safety. It was at length settled that our travellers should assist in taking the raft to the lake and in embarking all the goods[114]there stored; that they should then bring the raft back again into the Kapoeas stream, after which their further assistance would be unnecessary.Before concluding these arrangements the bargain was struck that when they should separate the two hirelings should be transferred to the canoes of our adventurers.This contract concluded, work commenced. The raft being fastened by a second rope, the cable was loosened from the tree and carried by a djoekoeng up the stream as far as it would reach, when it was attached to another tree. The capstan was again manned and the raft thus worked further up stream against the tide. This manœuvre was repeated again and again with success. One can imagine the difficulty of the task, especially to the Europeans, who were quite unused to that kind of work; but it gave them a clear insight into the activity of the people among whom they found themselves, and exhibited the fertility of resource possessed by the children of nature.The raft on which they now stood consisted of two hundred logs of timber of excellent quality tied firmly together by rattan cables. A floor was laid over these logs and in the centre of the raft a roomy hut was constructed. Under a roof extending from the sides of this hut the products were safely housed. The raft carried nearly four thousand trusses of rattan, a couple of thousand gantangs of rosin, a hundred pikols of bees-wax, twenty pikols of India rubber and a small parcel of birds’ nests. The last two Bapa Andong had exchanged for bees-wax with some traders from the upper country. The other goods were the products of his own labor. The rattan had been cut in the surrounding[115]soengeis, the rosin was partly gathered from the trees and partly collected along the banks of the river.It was quite evening when the raft shot the last projection and the entrance of the channel which forms the junction between the lake and the river became visible. The crew was exhausted with fatigue, rest was accordingly absolutely necessary. As there was no earthly possibility of steering the raft through the narrow canal in the darkness they moored it to the shore, after which part of the crew landed to clear the ground for some distance, so as to command an unobstructed view of the surrounding country. The shrubs and trees thus cut down were formed into a kind of entrenchment at the edge of the clearing to prevent the possibility of a surprise. They further divided their men into two watches, who would alternately take duty and keep a lookout, Johannes taking care that he and La Cueille should remain with one party while the two Swiss would join the other division.As soon as daylight appeared our travellers resumed their labors, and after an hour’s hard toil the raft was steered into the channel. The sun had nearly risen above the horizon when they had their craft safely moored against the landing-stage to receive the rest of its cargo. The lading was executed so rapidly that by the afternoon everything was ready on board for the resumption of their journey.But a considerable task had yet to be accomplished. Since Bapa Andong had originally begun collecting his forest products, a work which had occupied him about six months, hundreds of swarms of bees had made their nests in the trees growing on the western[116]bank of the lake. The trees chosen by these little insects are high, with straight and smooth trunks and far spreading branches. The Dayaks call these wood-giants “tanggirang,” and in favorable seasons from two to three hundred bees’ nests may be found in a single tree. From the moment Bapa Andong first observed these industrious insects commencing their labor he had begun to make his preparations for collecting their produce at the proper time. He had daily driven spikes of hard wood into each tree at a distance of about a foot and a half, until these primitive ladders reached the lower branches. The task took him a long time to complete, but it could not be hastened as the continuous hammering at the spikes would undoubtedly have disturbed the bees and rendered an attack from them certain.His hirelings now cleared the ground around the trees of every shrub and weed; and all being ready for action they awaited a favorable opportunity to commence operations. This soon came.It was a boisterous night and the wind blew as if determined to uproot every tree; the sky was covered with thick clouds and the darkness was so great that everything seemed as if enveloped in black. They were now seventeen men in all, including Bapa Andong’s son and the six hirelings found on the borders of the lake. By means of the canoe belonging to our adventurers and of the two additional djoekoengs, they crossed the foaming waters of the lake to the other side where the bee trees stood. Arrived there they stepped ashore and spread large linen sheets on four posts in such a manner that the corners being raised up they formed monster sacks. When these were ready they set fire to some previously prepared torches of green resinous wood,[117]of which each Dayak took one and rapidly mounted the ladders. Only one man climbed each tree, while Bapa Andong with the four Europeans kept watch in the dark beneath rifles in hand.The hirelings mounted rapidly and began to beat the numerous nests. The bees, as if determined to drown the noise of the raging storm, came out buzzing loudly to attack the intruders, but blinded by the light of the torches and suffocated by the smoke they were driven rapidly away by the violent storm and fell by hundreds of thousands on the other side of the lake. As soon as the swarms had disappeared the men, armed with bamboo knives, eagerly commenced to free the nests from the branches and to drop them into the sacks beneath. All this took but little time to accomplish and the men had already descended ere the Europeans recovered from their astonishment. The sight of those naked brown figures with flowing locks rapidly mounting the trees under the faint glimmer of their torches, their bodies bending over the branches high up in the air, the torches moving to and fro and enveloping everything in a dark smoke; the noise of the storm and the hum of the millions of bees—all these seemed so surprising, so weird, that they could fancy themselves to be dreaming but for the numerous nests dripping with honey which lay at their feet.“They are brave fellows!” La Cueille burst forth.“With quickness and dexterity, combined with cool calculation,” remarked Schlickeisen, “not a single accident has happened to mar the undertaking.”The bees’ nests were speedily stored away in the boat and the whole expedition returned long before midnight.[118]After all the nests had been placed upon a stage to drip, the night-watch was re-established as on the previous evening and half of the crew retired to rest.Rest, however, seems a strange fiction in the Dayak countries. Certainly the first hours passed undisturbed, but the woodcock, which the natives call takakak from its note, had hardly sounded its morning cry about three o’clock when young Andong fancied he heard a slight noise from the side of the wood. He remained at his post as immovable as a monument, listened and signalled to his mates without making any audible sound. They all pricked up their ears and listened likewise. A movement was heard like creeping bodies trying to force a passage through the protecting wood-work and shrubs. Fortunately the storm had abated, or the suspicious sounds would not have been heard. The sleeping party was awakened with the least possible noise and preparations were made for a fight. The Europeans kept close together, having theirfire-armsnear at hand. But as these seemed almost useless in the intense darkness they, like the Dayaks whom they were impersonating, took each a strong mandauw, intending to make good use of it.Bapa Andong, however, whispered something to Johannes which was answered with a smile and a nod; and as soon as the nature of this communication was imparted to the others the entire party prepared for action. The two Swiss took up their Remington rifles and La Cueille and Johannes their breech-loaders, while each of them was additionally provided with a revolver and the two remaining rifles were loaded for use in case of emergency.[119]Everything being now arranged the defenders waited with beating hearts. Nothing could be distinguished in the black darkness of the night; all they heard was a shuffling noise or the snapping of small twigs. Suddenly however about twenty figures rose as from the lake itself and jumped upon the raft, shouting their usual war cry, “Lēēēēh lèlèlèlè ouiiiit!”The occupants of the raft knew that they were outnumbered and if their stratagem failed a fight for life or death would be unavoidable, probably resulting in their annihilation. It was a demoniacal scene to see those wild Indians leap to and fro crouched behind their shields with mandauw in hand and to hear them loudly challenging their adversaries, from whom however not a sound proceeded. This silence seemed to baffle the assailants.Suddenly a few figures were seen to appear in the dark at the end of the raft upon which the defenders were located. These leaped into the midst of the assailants, dealt a few smart blows among them and then as quietly disappeared. The enemy again shouted their war cry, banded themselves closer together and covered by their shields ran along the planks which communicated with the raft. A couple of figures presented themselves as if they wished to dispute their passage, but these also disappeared rapidly; when suddenly a brightly burning flame ascended from the top of the heap of rattan trusses stored in the centre of the raft and at the same moment a heavy rifle fire was opened upon the now visible assailants. Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen fired their Remingtons lustily against the enemy, who had crept almost against the muzzles of their guns. La Cueille[120]and Johannes forming the second file first discharged their rifles and then followed up with the fire of their revolvers, while it almost rained mandauw blows from the heap of rattan. It is impossible to describe the consternation amongst the enemy caused by this sudden and strong illumination and the subsequent destructive firing, very few bullets of which missed their aim. An undulating movement was observed, first backwards, then forwards; cries of rage and pain intermixed proceeded from every direction; it seemed as if the furies themselves had broken loose. At length the small number remaining divided themselves into two parties, the larger one of which took to flight, leaped ashore and disappeared in the obscurity, while the other, jumping across their own slain, made a last and desperate effort in a hand to hand fight. Shots fell uninterruptedly; the brave little band became smaller and smaller until the last remaining two of them threw themselves on the floor and by creeping along endeavored to reach their opponents with their naked mandauws. One of them was almost immediately staked to the floor of the raft by Schlickeisen. The other creeping cautiously forward raised himself and lifted his mandauw to deal a fatal blow at Wienersdorf who, seeing no chance of averting the stroke, suddenly dropped his rifle and grasped the wrists of his adversary so tightly as to compel him to relinquish his weapon. A terrible struggle now took place between the two men, who knew that the life of one of them was at stake. A few inches only separated them from the water. They were struggling breast to breast with such rapidity of movement that any interference from the others must have endangered the one as much as the other. At last the[121]strength of the less muscular Dayak became exhausted. Wienersdorf noticing this kicked the fallen mandauw into the lake, and making a last violent effort lifted both arms of his enemy and bending them forcibly backwards compelled the panting Dayak to sink upon his knees before him.“Blako ampoen!” I beg for mercy! cried the native.The Swiss hearing these words uttered in a soft and imploring voice released his enemy and offered him his hand, which the native still on his knees hesitated to take. His chest heaved violently and his eyes shone like fire. At last he leaped to his feet, took the offered hand, placed it on his head and bent his proud neck as a token of submission. While doing this he gave utterance to some words which were not understood by any of his hearers.The son of the forest remained standing thus for a few moments. He then suddenly lifted his head, took his knife, made a slight wound in the flesh of his arm, collected the flowing blood in the palm of his hand and smeared some of it upon the forehead and lips of Wienersdorf, who stood looking on as if paralyzed. He then slightly wounded the Swiss, collected his blood also and rubbed it over his own forehead and lips, after which he swallowed the remaining drops. He again took the hand of the conqueror, pressed it fervently and brought it to his lips, plainly uttering the words “Harimaoung Boekit,” tiger of the mountains. Then before any one had time to prevent him he leaped into the lake, the dark water of which closed above his head.[122]Just at that moment, as if nature desired to contribute to the escape of the savage, a wind squall suddenly extinguished the burning flame and enveloped the occupants of the raft in total darkness.[123]

“Confound this stream,” La Cueille muttered to himself, “one can hardly perceive that we are making any progress.”

It was indeed at the cost of much labor and fatigue that any way was made through the water. The canoe seemed to glide backward and forward without advancing a single yard, though the crew used their oars with all the power at their command. This was the result of the numerous obstructions which lay in their way. It required an intimate knowledge of the river to be able to weather promontories, to cut off corners, to avoid curves, to utilize currents and to steer clear of sand-banks. But their chief danger lay in the vast quantities of dead trees that were fixed in the bed of the river. Torn away from the banks by storms or inundations, these trees are carried along by the stream a considerable distance, until they become caught by some under lying shoal or sand bank to which they attach themselves and become permanently planted. Collision with such snags is one of the greatest dangers of river navigation, as it generally proves[111]fatal to the vessel. Dalim and his compatriots kept a sharp lookout and by their vigilance and adroitness prevented many a mishap which might have endangered their lives and involved the utter destruction of the canoe.

La Cueille found this hard rowing peculiarly irksome. He looked at his arm from time to time, but the cut made by Wienersdorf was healing well without any inflammatory symptom. There was nothing to be seen but a black circle, which Dalim informed him was always present after similar wounds by poisonous weapons, whether the wounded person died or recovered.

Upon Wienersdorf enquiring from what these poisons were made, Dalim informed him that the two principal kinds used by the Dayaks were known under the names of siren and ipoh. They were both vegetable poisons, but no specific botanical name was known for the trees from which they were obtained. About the preparation of the poisons, however, Dalim after repeated requests gave the following account.

In the interior of Borneo, and especially along the slopes of mountains and hills, there grows a tree called batang siren by the natives. Like our oak this tree reaches the age of a hundred years and more. A white milky fluid flows from it when tapped, which is collected in a little bamboo cylinder. On contact with the air, this sap soon loses its color, turns first yellow, then brown and finally black. When it leaves the tree the fluid is perfectly harmless and only acquires its poisonous properties after evaporation and admixture with other plants. The sap having been properly treated and thickened is poured into a stone jar while warm; upon cooling it soon coagulates. The Dayaks always[112]carry this jar with them fastened to the waistband from which their mandauws depend. When required for use it is again heated in order to liquefy it. The points of their arrows are then dipped in it and speedily become covered with a thin layer of gum which dries immediately.

The first symptom shown by the wounded is a copious vomiting. This is followed by paralysis of the limbs, which continues for about ten minutes, when death ensues amid violent convulsions.

The ipoh is prepared in a similar manner, but that poison is taken from a creeper. The only difference between the effects of the ipoh and siren poisons is that the former is not attended by vomiting.

Every Dayak knows how to prepare both these poisons, but as the plants and the accessory ingredients are chiefly found in the mountainous districts, the inhabitants of the upper countries are more expert in their preparation than the natives of the coast.

Aboutmid-dayour travellers approached the soengei Moeroi. When trying to row past it they saw a raft coming down this broad soengei. It carried three men, who were employing all their strength in the effort to stop the course of their unmanageable craft. One of them called for assistance, and as according to the custom of the country a refusal was not to be dreamed of, Dalim steered his boat toward the raft and was soon moored alongside of it.

It was being rapidly carried away by the strong tide; therefore the first thing to be done was to make for the shore and to[113]moor it there. Our adventurers soon produced their rattan cables, as well as the anchor chains which they had taken with them from soengei Naning. Having joined these firmly together, they fastened one end to a kind of capstan on the raft while the other end was carried ashore in a djoekoeng and tied around the trunk of a strong tree. The raft was still drifting onward with the current when the cable being drawn taut, its progress was suddenly arrested. The result was a violent shock which pitched Schlickeisen and La Cueille headlong into the river; but they were soon rescued by Dalim and some of his new friends.

The cable stood the shock admirably; it remained stretched like a cord, though the raft trembled under the pressure of the tide. Presently the unwieldy structure swung around toward the shore, when they managed by the aid of the capstan to bring it gradually nearer the tree, to which it was eventually fastened by the cable.

Our travellers now learned that the owner of the raft, a native of Kwala Kapoeas named Bapa Andong, had been collecting forest products in soengei Moeroi and had been very successful. He now was on his way to Lake Ampang, where he had various kinds of produce safely stored: but being short-handed he was unable to take his raft there against the tide. He now addressed himself to Johannes, whom he regarded as the leader of the party, and proposed that they should all help him in the navigation of his unwieldy craft. His son, with six hirelings, was awaiting his arrival at the lake, and he felt anxious about their safety. It was at length settled that our travellers should assist in taking the raft to the lake and in embarking all the goods[114]there stored; that they should then bring the raft back again into the Kapoeas stream, after which their further assistance would be unnecessary.

Before concluding these arrangements the bargain was struck that when they should separate the two hirelings should be transferred to the canoes of our adventurers.

This contract concluded, work commenced. The raft being fastened by a second rope, the cable was loosened from the tree and carried by a djoekoeng up the stream as far as it would reach, when it was attached to another tree. The capstan was again manned and the raft thus worked further up stream against the tide. This manœuvre was repeated again and again with success. One can imagine the difficulty of the task, especially to the Europeans, who were quite unused to that kind of work; but it gave them a clear insight into the activity of the people among whom they found themselves, and exhibited the fertility of resource possessed by the children of nature.

The raft on which they now stood consisted of two hundred logs of timber of excellent quality tied firmly together by rattan cables. A floor was laid over these logs and in the centre of the raft a roomy hut was constructed. Under a roof extending from the sides of this hut the products were safely housed. The raft carried nearly four thousand trusses of rattan, a couple of thousand gantangs of rosin, a hundred pikols of bees-wax, twenty pikols of India rubber and a small parcel of birds’ nests. The last two Bapa Andong had exchanged for bees-wax with some traders from the upper country. The other goods were the products of his own labor. The rattan had been cut in the surrounding[115]soengeis, the rosin was partly gathered from the trees and partly collected along the banks of the river.

It was quite evening when the raft shot the last projection and the entrance of the channel which forms the junction between the lake and the river became visible. The crew was exhausted with fatigue, rest was accordingly absolutely necessary. As there was no earthly possibility of steering the raft through the narrow canal in the darkness they moored it to the shore, after which part of the crew landed to clear the ground for some distance, so as to command an unobstructed view of the surrounding country. The shrubs and trees thus cut down were formed into a kind of entrenchment at the edge of the clearing to prevent the possibility of a surprise. They further divided their men into two watches, who would alternately take duty and keep a lookout, Johannes taking care that he and La Cueille should remain with one party while the two Swiss would join the other division.

As soon as daylight appeared our travellers resumed their labors, and after an hour’s hard toil the raft was steered into the channel. The sun had nearly risen above the horizon when they had their craft safely moored against the landing-stage to receive the rest of its cargo. The lading was executed so rapidly that by the afternoon everything was ready on board for the resumption of their journey.

But a considerable task had yet to be accomplished. Since Bapa Andong had originally begun collecting his forest products, a work which had occupied him about six months, hundreds of swarms of bees had made their nests in the trees growing on the western[116]bank of the lake. The trees chosen by these little insects are high, with straight and smooth trunks and far spreading branches. The Dayaks call these wood-giants “tanggirang,” and in favorable seasons from two to three hundred bees’ nests may be found in a single tree. From the moment Bapa Andong first observed these industrious insects commencing their labor he had begun to make his preparations for collecting their produce at the proper time. He had daily driven spikes of hard wood into each tree at a distance of about a foot and a half, until these primitive ladders reached the lower branches. The task took him a long time to complete, but it could not be hastened as the continuous hammering at the spikes would undoubtedly have disturbed the bees and rendered an attack from them certain.

His hirelings now cleared the ground around the trees of every shrub and weed; and all being ready for action they awaited a favorable opportunity to commence operations. This soon came.

It was a boisterous night and the wind blew as if determined to uproot every tree; the sky was covered with thick clouds and the darkness was so great that everything seemed as if enveloped in black. They were now seventeen men in all, including Bapa Andong’s son and the six hirelings found on the borders of the lake. By means of the canoe belonging to our adventurers and of the two additional djoekoengs, they crossed the foaming waters of the lake to the other side where the bee trees stood. Arrived there they stepped ashore and spread large linen sheets on four posts in such a manner that the corners being raised up they formed monster sacks. When these were ready they set fire to some previously prepared torches of green resinous wood,[117]of which each Dayak took one and rapidly mounted the ladders. Only one man climbed each tree, while Bapa Andong with the four Europeans kept watch in the dark beneath rifles in hand.

The hirelings mounted rapidly and began to beat the numerous nests. The bees, as if determined to drown the noise of the raging storm, came out buzzing loudly to attack the intruders, but blinded by the light of the torches and suffocated by the smoke they were driven rapidly away by the violent storm and fell by hundreds of thousands on the other side of the lake. As soon as the swarms had disappeared the men, armed with bamboo knives, eagerly commenced to free the nests from the branches and to drop them into the sacks beneath. All this took but little time to accomplish and the men had already descended ere the Europeans recovered from their astonishment. The sight of those naked brown figures with flowing locks rapidly mounting the trees under the faint glimmer of their torches, their bodies bending over the branches high up in the air, the torches moving to and fro and enveloping everything in a dark smoke; the noise of the storm and the hum of the millions of bees—all these seemed so surprising, so weird, that they could fancy themselves to be dreaming but for the numerous nests dripping with honey which lay at their feet.

“They are brave fellows!” La Cueille burst forth.

“With quickness and dexterity, combined with cool calculation,” remarked Schlickeisen, “not a single accident has happened to mar the undertaking.”

The bees’ nests were speedily stored away in the boat and the whole expedition returned long before midnight.[118]

After all the nests had been placed upon a stage to drip, the night-watch was re-established as on the previous evening and half of the crew retired to rest.

Rest, however, seems a strange fiction in the Dayak countries. Certainly the first hours passed undisturbed, but the woodcock, which the natives call takakak from its note, had hardly sounded its morning cry about three o’clock when young Andong fancied he heard a slight noise from the side of the wood. He remained at his post as immovable as a monument, listened and signalled to his mates without making any audible sound. They all pricked up their ears and listened likewise. A movement was heard like creeping bodies trying to force a passage through the protecting wood-work and shrubs. Fortunately the storm had abated, or the suspicious sounds would not have been heard. The sleeping party was awakened with the least possible noise and preparations were made for a fight. The Europeans kept close together, having theirfire-armsnear at hand. But as these seemed almost useless in the intense darkness they, like the Dayaks whom they were impersonating, took each a strong mandauw, intending to make good use of it.

Bapa Andong, however, whispered something to Johannes which was answered with a smile and a nod; and as soon as the nature of this communication was imparted to the others the entire party prepared for action. The two Swiss took up their Remington rifles and La Cueille and Johannes their breech-loaders, while each of them was additionally provided with a revolver and the two remaining rifles were loaded for use in case of emergency.[119]

Everything being now arranged the defenders waited with beating hearts. Nothing could be distinguished in the black darkness of the night; all they heard was a shuffling noise or the snapping of small twigs. Suddenly however about twenty figures rose as from the lake itself and jumped upon the raft, shouting their usual war cry, “Lēēēēh lèlèlèlè ouiiiit!”

The occupants of the raft knew that they were outnumbered and if their stratagem failed a fight for life or death would be unavoidable, probably resulting in their annihilation. It was a demoniacal scene to see those wild Indians leap to and fro crouched behind their shields with mandauw in hand and to hear them loudly challenging their adversaries, from whom however not a sound proceeded. This silence seemed to baffle the assailants.

Suddenly a few figures were seen to appear in the dark at the end of the raft upon which the defenders were located. These leaped into the midst of the assailants, dealt a few smart blows among them and then as quietly disappeared. The enemy again shouted their war cry, banded themselves closer together and covered by their shields ran along the planks which communicated with the raft. A couple of figures presented themselves as if they wished to dispute their passage, but these also disappeared rapidly; when suddenly a brightly burning flame ascended from the top of the heap of rattan trusses stored in the centre of the raft and at the same moment a heavy rifle fire was opened upon the now visible assailants. Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen fired their Remingtons lustily against the enemy, who had crept almost against the muzzles of their guns. La Cueille[120]and Johannes forming the second file first discharged their rifles and then followed up with the fire of their revolvers, while it almost rained mandauw blows from the heap of rattan. It is impossible to describe the consternation amongst the enemy caused by this sudden and strong illumination and the subsequent destructive firing, very few bullets of which missed their aim. An undulating movement was observed, first backwards, then forwards; cries of rage and pain intermixed proceeded from every direction; it seemed as if the furies themselves had broken loose. At length the small number remaining divided themselves into two parties, the larger one of which took to flight, leaped ashore and disappeared in the obscurity, while the other, jumping across their own slain, made a last and desperate effort in a hand to hand fight. Shots fell uninterruptedly; the brave little band became smaller and smaller until the last remaining two of them threw themselves on the floor and by creeping along endeavored to reach their opponents with their naked mandauws. One of them was almost immediately staked to the floor of the raft by Schlickeisen. The other creeping cautiously forward raised himself and lifted his mandauw to deal a fatal blow at Wienersdorf who, seeing no chance of averting the stroke, suddenly dropped his rifle and grasped the wrists of his adversary so tightly as to compel him to relinquish his weapon. A terrible struggle now took place between the two men, who knew that the life of one of them was at stake. A few inches only separated them from the water. They were struggling breast to breast with such rapidity of movement that any interference from the others must have endangered the one as much as the other. At last the[121]strength of the less muscular Dayak became exhausted. Wienersdorf noticing this kicked the fallen mandauw into the lake, and making a last violent effort lifted both arms of his enemy and bending them forcibly backwards compelled the panting Dayak to sink upon his knees before him.

“Blako ampoen!” I beg for mercy! cried the native.

The Swiss hearing these words uttered in a soft and imploring voice released his enemy and offered him his hand, which the native still on his knees hesitated to take. His chest heaved violently and his eyes shone like fire. At last he leaped to his feet, took the offered hand, placed it on his head and bent his proud neck as a token of submission. While doing this he gave utterance to some words which were not understood by any of his hearers.

The son of the forest remained standing thus for a few moments. He then suddenly lifted his head, took his knife, made a slight wound in the flesh of his arm, collected the flowing blood in the palm of his hand and smeared some of it upon the forehead and lips of Wienersdorf, who stood looking on as if paralyzed. He then slightly wounded the Swiss, collected his blood also and rubbed it over his own forehead and lips, after which he swallowed the remaining drops. He again took the hand of the conqueror, pressed it fervently and brought it to his lips, plainly uttering the words “Harimaoung Boekit,” tiger of the mountains. Then before any one had time to prevent him he leaped into the lake, the dark water of which closed above his head.[122]

Just at that moment, as if nature desired to contribute to the escape of the savage, a wind squall suddenly extinguished the burning flame and enveloped the occupants of the raft in total darkness.[123]

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