PART IX.SAVAGE WARFARE.

War Dance of the New Zealanders.PART IX.SAVAGE WARFARE.

War Dance of the New Zealanders.

Hereditary pirates—A Bornean pirate fleet—Rajah Brooke and the pirates—A tough job against the prahus—No quarter with the Dayaks—A freebooter captain—Dayak arms—Bornean fighting tactics—Advance of Sir J. Brooke’s troops—A debate about fighting—Poisoned arrows—Weapons of the Amazonian Indians—The blow-gun—A Bornean war dance—War trophies—Heads, scalps, and brains—Horrible festivity—The Savages of North America.

Amongst the most warlike savages on the face of the earth must be counted the natives of the coast of Borneo. It would have been more correct, however, to have alluded to these redoubtable barbarians as the most warlike on the face of thesearather than the earth; for the majority of theirconflicts take place in their “prahus” and “sampans,” and in pursuit of their regular and hereditary calling of pirates. Nor are they insignificant in point of number; there are the Sarebus, the Sakarran, the Illanun, the Balagnini, each comprising a tribe many thousands strong, and sea-robbers to a man, woman, and child; and, besides these, a whole host of ragamuffin fellows, not respectable enough for the society of the great pirate community, and who, being joint-stock owners of a prahu, prowl round the coast, and snap up any trifle too insignificant for the commanders of the various fleets; for fleets they are beyond question. The prahus of which the fleets are composed are long, commodious vessels, propelled by rowers, and carrying sometimes as many as a hundred men each. Sir J. Brooke, the celebrated “Rajah of Sarawak,” once had an opportunity of counting ninety-eight boats about to start on a piratical cruise, the crews of which, reckoned at the low computation of twenty-five men each, gave a grand total of nearly two thousand five hundred men. On the same authority, the internal constitution of these rowers may be stated as follows:—Commanding each fleet is one man, who holds his high post either by virtue of high birth or riches; under any circumstances, however, he must possess bravery and cunning, otherwise, whatever his station or right conferred by birth, he would very soon be put down, and a proper leader elected in his place. To each prahu there is a captain and half a dozen petty officers, generally the captain’s relations, while all the rest—comprising about four-fifths of the whole—are slaves. Although, however, these latter are more or less compelled to serve, they are not without their privileges. They have the right of plunder, which is indiscriminate, with certain exemptions—viz., slaves, guns, money, or any other heavy articles, together with the very finest descriptions of silks and cloths, belong to the chiefs and free portion of the crew; with the rest the rule is first come first served.

These worthies are indifferent to blood-shedding, fond of plunder, but fonder than all of slaves; they despise trade, although its profits may be shown to be greater than those of sea-plunder, and look on their calling as the noblest occupation of chiefs and free men. Their swords they show with boasts, as having belonged to their ancestors, who were pirates, renowned and terrible in their day. Without doubt the chief support of the system are the slaves they capture on the different coasts. If they attack an island, the women and children and as many men as they require, are carried off. Every boat they take furnishes its quota of slaves;and when they have collected a full cargo they visit another coast and dispose of it to the best advantage. For instance, a cargo of slaves captured on the east coast of Borneo is sold in the west, and the slaves of the south find ready purchasers in the north. As the woolly-haired Papuas are generally prized by the natives, constant visits are made to New Guinea and the easternmost islands where they are procured and afterwards sold at high prices amongst any Malay community. On one occasion Rajah Brooke met eighteen boats belonging to the Illanun pirates, and learned from their chiefs that they had been two years absent from home; and from the Papuan negro slaves on board, it was evident that their cruise had extended from the most eastern islands of the Archipelago to the north-western coast of Borneo.

Here is a picture of a pirate fleet drawn by Governor Brooke himself:

“At this time it was hinted that a large pirate fleet had been seen in the vicinity of the coast, and in a day or two afterwards we had certain news of their having taken the Sadung boats bound from Singapore; and Datu Pangeran was in consequence despatched to communicate with them. He returned, bringing the fleet along with him to the mouth of the river, whence they requested permission to visit Sarawak, and pay their respects to the Rajah. I was consulted on the subject, whether I would meet them, and as I preferred a pacific to a hostile rencontre, and had, moreover, a considerable curiosity to see these roving gentry, I consented without hesitation. Report stated that their intention was to attack the Royalist (a war ship of the English navy), as they had, it was averred, received positive accounts of her having fifty lacs of rupees on board, and that her figure-head was of solid gold. As, however, we had no such treasure, and the meeting was unavoidable and might be hostile, I put myself into a complete posture of defence, with a determination neither to show backwardness nor suspicion. The day arrived, and the pirates swept up the river; eighteen prahus, one following the other, decorated with flags and streamers, and firing both cannon and musketry; the sight was interesting and curious, and heightened by the conviction that these friends of the moment might be enemies the next. Having taken their stations the chief men proceeded to an interview with the Rajah, which I attended to witness. Some distrust and much ceremony marked the meeting; and both parties had numerous followers, who filled the hall of audience and the avenues leading to it. The pirates consisted of Illanuns and Malukus from Gillolo. The Illanuns are fine athletic men with haughty andreserved bearing, and evidently quite ready to be friends or foes as best suited their purpose.

“Beyond the usual formalities the meeting had nothing to distinguish it; one party retired to their boats while the other went to their respective houses, and everything betokened quiet. In the evening I pulled through the fleet and inspected several of their largest prahus. The entire force consisted of eighteen boats, three Malukus and fifteen Illanuns; the smallest of these boats carried twenty men, the largest (they are mostly large), upwards of a hundred. These larger prahus are too heavy to pull well, though they carry twenty, forty, and even fifty oars; their armament consists of one or two six pounders in the bow, one four pounder, stern-chaser, and a number of swivels, besides musketry, spears, and swords. The boat is divided into three sections and fortified by strong planks, one behind the bow, one amidship, and one astern to protect the steersman. The women and children are crammed down below, as are the unlucky prisoners taken in the course of an action.

“Their principal plan is boarding a vessel if possible, and carrying her by numbers; and certainly if a merchantman fired ill, she would inevitably be taken, but with grape and canister fairly directed the slaughter would be so great that they would be glad to steer off before they had neared a vessel.”

Having given a description, though a necessarily brief one, of these savage sea-lions, as well as of their laws and government, it may be worth while to devote a little space to the narration of one of the very many fights that took place between them and the forces under Sir J. Brooke, whose chief business, be it understood, was to check and to do all in his power to suppress the predatory operations of the swarm of piratical prahus infesting the Malayan Archipelago, to the great danger not only of peaceful native and Chinese traders, but also of European merchantmen trading to Singapore and other Chinese ports.

To support Sir J. Brooke in his difficult task, our government in 1843 despatched the “Dido” man-of-war, Captain Henry Keppel, commander. The “Dido” had been cruising about for a considerable time, and had performed many toughish jobs in the way of subjugating pirates, when the time came for the arrival of the English mail at Singapore, which also included the Bornean letter bags. These were to be forwarded by a small schooner, but knowing that the said schooner would probably be anxiously looked for by the pirates, Captain Keppel agreed with Sir J. Brooke, thatit might be as well to send out some assistance to cruise about the road the schooner must come. It was scarcely worth while for the “Dido” herself to set out on such an errand, and the “Dido’s” pinnace was under repair, so it was resolved to man a large native-built boat, belonging to Sir J. Brooke, and called the “Jolly Bachelor.” She was fitted with a brass six-pounder long gun, and a volunteer crew of a mate, two midshipmen, six marines, and twelve seamen, with a fortnight’s provisions, the whole being under the command of Mr. Hunt, the “Dido’s” second lieutenant.

After proceeding on her leisurely course for some time, the “Jolly Bachelor” made out three boats a long way in the offing, to which they gave chase, but soon lost sight of them owing to their superior sailing. They, however, appeared a second and a third time after dark, but without the “Jolly Bachelor” being able to get near them, and it now being late and the crew being both fatigued and hungry, they pulled in shore, lighted a fire, cooked their provisions, and then hauled the boat out to her grapnel near some rocks, for the night; lying down to rest with their arms by their sides and their muskets round the mast ready loaded. Having also placed sentries and look-outs near, and appointed an officer of the watch, they one and all (including the watch and the look-out it seems), fell fast asleep.

Lieutenant Hunt was the first to awake, and a very considerable surprise greeted his still sleepy eyes. It was about three o’clock, and the moon had just risen; the lieutenant disturbed by a slight noise, raised his head, and lo! there was a savage brandishing his kris and performing a war dance on the bit of a deck, in an ecstasy of delight, thinking, in all probability, of the ease with which he had got possession of a fine trading boat, and calculating the cargo of slaves he had to sell, but little dreaming of the hornet’s nest into which he had fallen.

Dayak and Malay Weapons.

Lieutenant Hunt’s face meeting the light of the moon was the first intimation conveyed to the pirate that he had made a mistake. He immediately plunged overboard, and before the officer had sufficiently recovered his astonishment to know whether he was dreaming or waking, or to rouse his crew, a discharge from three or four cannon within a few yards, and the cutting through the rigging by the various missiles with which the guns were loaded, soon convinced him that it was stern reality. It was well that the men were lying down when this discharge took place, as not one of them was hurt; but on jumping to their legs they found themselves closely pressed by two large war prahus, one on either side.

To return the fire, cut the cable, man the oars, and back astern to gain room, was the work of a minute; but now came the tug of war; it was a case of life and death. The crew of the “Bachelor” fought, says Captain Keppel quaintly, “as they ought.” Quarter was not expected on either side; and the quick deadly aim of the marines prevented the pirates reloading their guns. The Illanun pirate vessels were built in the peculiar fashion already noticed, that is with partitions through which ports are bored for working the guns, and these barriers had to be cut away by round shot before the musketry could be brought to bear effectually. This done, the grape and canister of the “Jolly Bachelor” told with fearful execution. In the meantime the prahus had been pressing forward to board, while the English boat backed astern; but as soon as this service was achieved, the men of the latter dropped their oars and seizing their muskets dashed on. The work was sharp, but short, and the slaughter great. While one pirate boat was sinking and an effort made to secure her the other escaped by rounding a point of rocks, where a third and larger prahu, hitherto unseen, came to her assistance, and putting fresh hands on board and taking her in tow, succeeded in getting off, although chased by the “Jolly Bachelor,” after setting fire to the crippled prize which blew up and sank before the conquerors got back to the scene of action.

The sight that presented itself to the victors on boarding the captured prahu must indeed have been a frightful one; none of the pirates waited on board for even the chance of receiving either quarter or mercy, but all those capable of moving had thrown themselves into the water. In addition to the killed, some lying across the thwarts with their oars in their hands at the bottom of the prahu, in which there was about three feet of blood and water, were seen protruding the mangled remains of eighteen or twenty bodies.

Detestable, however, as is the trade of war, especially when carried on from mercenary motives, it is hard for us, with so much of the salt of the sea in our blood, to regard these savage Dayak rovers without something very like sympathy. Certain it is that they possess the chief elements of a great people, perseverance, courage, and a restless yearning for adventure—much the same sort of folks, dear reader, as those from which you and I sprang. But our freebooting ancestors were heroes and led by heroes, say you. Well, here is a Dayak hero, pictured by one who is himself a hero—a true British man of war and one little likely to over estimate valour, or to mistake it on the score of sentimentality.

“Among the mortally wounded lay the young commander of the prahu, one of the most noble forms of the human race; his countenance handsome as the hero of oriental romance, and his bearing wonderfully impressive and touching. He was shot in front and through the lungs, and his end was rapidly approaching. He endeavoured to speak, but could not. He looked as if he had something of importance to communicate, and a shade of disappointment and regret passed over his brow when he felt that every effort was unavailing and that his manly strength and daring spirit were dissolving into the dark night of annihilation. The pitying conquerors raised him gently up and he was seated in comparative ease, for the welling out of the blood was less distressing, but the end speedily came; he folded his arms heroically across his wounded breast, fixed his eyes on the British seamen around, and casting one long glance at the ocean—the theatre of his daring exploits, on which he had so often fought and triumphed—expired without a sigh.”

It is not a little singular, however, that although they display so much courage and indifference to death in naval warfare, their military tactics are of the very meanest order and are executed with such lukewarmness that to see them as soldiers and nothing else would be to conceive them to be the greatest curs on the face of the earth. Of this Rajah Brooke hadmost rueful yet ludicrous experience. Thanks to his own indomitable pluck and the assistance (sparse enough at best) granted him by the British government, together with that of the various Bornean tribes whom Brooke had won over to his interest, the marauding Dayaks were very considerably lessened in numbers and, better still, damped in piratical ardour; still there were a few very formidable bodies inhabiting forts along the coast whose interest it was to favour piracy and who were known to do their earnest best to thwart the endeavours of the European Rajah. Therefore a grand council of war was held, at which were present various Malay, Chinese, and Dayak leaders, and Sir J. Brooke, and it was formally resolved to combine the various forces and to proceed to storm and carry the obnoxious forts in a regular way.

All were willing enough to give their word; but our countryman seems from the very onset to have had a dismal foreboding of what would be the result. “To judge,” says he, “by the sample of the council, I should form a very unfavourable expectation of their conduct in action. Macota (a chief, as are the rest whose names are here mentioned) is lively and active, but, either from indisposition or want of authority, undecided. The Capitan China is lazy and silent; Abong Mia and Datu Naraja stupid.... I may here state my motives for being a spectator of, or participator (as may turn out) in, this scene. In the first place, I must confess that curiosity strongly prompted me; since to witness the Malays, Chinese, and Dayaks in warfare was so new that the novelty alone might plead an excuse for this desire. But it was not the only motive, for my presence is a stimulus to our own party, and will probably depress the others in proportion.”

Besides swords and spears and muskets and some sort of artillery, both parties availed themselves of other favorite Bornean arms, including the ranjow; “these ranjows are made of bamboo pointed fine and stuck in the ground; and there are, besides, holes about three feet deep filled with these spikes and afterwards lightly covered, which are called patabong. Another obstacle consists of a spring formed by bending back a stiff cane, with a sharp bamboo attached to it, which, fastened by a slight twine, flies forcibly against any object passing through the bush and brushing against it: they resemble the mole traps in England. The Borneans have a great dread of these snares; and the way they deal with them is by sending out parties of Dayaks during the night to clear the path of such dangers. “The Sambas Chinese (adherents of the Brooke party) were wretchedlyarmed, having no guns and scarcely any muskets; but swords, spears, and shields, together with forty long thin iron tubes with the bore of a musket and carrying a slug. These primitive weapons were each managed bytwomen, one being the carrier of the ordnance, the other the gunner; for whilst one holds the tube on his shoulder the other takes aim, turns away his head, applies his match, and is pleased with the sound. Their mode of loading is as curious as the piece and its mode of discharge. Powder is poured in, the end knocked on the ground, and the slug with another knock sent on the powder without either ramming or cartridge. Indeed it is difficult to imagine any weapon more rude, awkward, or inefficient. The Borneans in fighting wear a quilted jacket or spenser which reaches over the hips, and from its size has a most unserviceable appearance, the bare legs and arms sticking out from under this puffed-out coat like the sticks which support the garments of a scarecrow.”

Setting sail with a fleet of vessels containing his gallant army, in course of time the enemy’s neighbourhood was reached and a fort built about a mile from the stronghold of their foes. It should be stated that to supply themselves with materials for this fort another near home was taken down and the timbers loaded into spare boats. No opposition was offered. The ground was cleared of jungle; piles driven in a square about fifteen yards to each face; and the earth from the centre, scooped out and intermixed with reeds, was heaped up about five feet high inside the piles. At the four corners were small watch-houses, and along the parapet of earth a narrow walk connecting them. While some of the army was thus employed another portion of it surrounded this the main body of the defence by an outer work made by slight sticks run into the ground, with cross binding of split bamboos, and bristling with achevaux de friseof sharpened bamboos about breast high. The fastenings of the entire work were of ratan, which is found in plenty. The entire fortress was commenced and finished within eight hours.

Knowing the weakness of the enemy, Sir J. Brooke now proposed that they should sally out and attack them, and in case of pursuit or severe repulse it was only a matter of ten minutes’ run to regain the fort, where they could defy further molestation. But the proposition took the army aghast. What! walk right up to the brass guns? Surely the English Rajah must be mad. The attack must be made from behind a wall, or not at all; and why not, when to build forts was so easy? and it was only a matter of so many seven hours’ labour to build fort after fortas they advanced and until they had arrived within convenient musket range of the enemy. So the Grand Army retired to bed.

Next morning they were up and doing, hammering and tinkering at the new stockade. In the midst of the work, however, there was a tremendous commotion—the enemy was advancing. There could be no mistake about it: you could hear their shouts and the banging of their war gongs approaching nearer and nearer. The Brooke army, nothing daunted replied with yells just as furious and defiant, and by way of refreshing their courage, several charges of powder and shot were expended in the air. The enemy approach within hail, and the excitement is grand. “We are coming! we are coming!” shouted the rebels; “lay aside your muskets, and come out and fight us with swords.”—“Come on,” replied the others; “we are building a stockade and want to fight you.” Things having arrived at this critical pass, there is no knowing what might have been the result, when merciful nature, to avert the horrors of blood and carnage, interposed with a heavy shower of rain, before which the rebels retreated, followed by the derisive shouts of the Borneans, who were under cover, and whose leaders immediately proceeded to offer a fervent thanksgiving for the victory gained, the soldiers responding with edifying earnestness, and then all retired to rest calmly as on the preceding night.

Next morning, however, Sir J. Brooke, whose curiosity was long since satisfied, and who began to grow tired of witnessing this novel mode of warfare, encouraged the troops to make an advance, to proceed indeed to within three hundred yards of the enemy’s stronghold, and there to erect a new stockade, backing his urging with the promise to send aboard for two six-pounder carronades with which to mount it. During the progress of this work Sir J. Brooke took occasion to inquire of the Dayak commander, Macota, if this was the way a battle was always conducted in these parts. Macota was very eager to set our countryman right on a point that so closely affected the honour of his nation. The enemy, he declared, during his last campaign were much more courageous than now. Stockade was opposed to stockade, and the fighting constant and severe; and so ably had Macota generalled his troops, that during two months he had not lost a single man, whilefiveof the enemy were stretched upon the field.

By the time the fort was finished and the guns arrived, the Brooke army had been reinforced, so that it numbered five hundred men of one sort and another. While the guns were being fixed the enemy opened fire, but were speedily checked, and in a quarter of an hour had to bewaila breach in the walls of their fortress large enough to admit several men together. “Seeing the effect,” says Rajah Brooke, “I proposed to Macota to storm the place with one hundred and fifty Chinese and Malays. The way from one fort to the other was protected. The enemy dared not shew themselves, for the fire of the grape and canister, and nothing could have been easier; but my proposition caused a commotion as difficult to describe as forget. The Chinese consented, and Macota, the commander-in-chief, was willing; but his inferiors were backward, and there arose a scene which shewed me the full violence of Malay passions, and their infuriated madness when once roused. Pangeran Houseman (one of the leaders) urged with energy the advantage of the proposal, and in the course of a speech lashed himself into a state of fury; he jumped to his feet, and with demoniac gestures stamped round and round, dancing a war dance after the most approved fashion. His countenance grew livid, his eyes glared, his features inflamed, and for my part, not being able to interpret the torrent of his oratory, I thought the man possessed of a devil, and about to ‘run a muck.’ But after a minute or two of this dance he resumed his seat, furious and panting, but silent. In reply, Subtu urged some objections to my plan, which was warmly supported by Illudeen, who apparently hurt Subtu’s feelings; for the indolent, the placid Subtu leapt to his feet, seized his spear, and rushed to the entrance of the stockade with his passions desperately aroused. I never saw finer action than when, with spear raised and pointing to the enemy’s fort, he challenged any one to rush on with him. Houseman and Surrudeen (the bravest of the brave) like madmen seized their swords to inflame the courage of the rest. It was a scene of fiends: but in vain; for though they appeared ready enough to quarrel and fight amongst themselves, there was no move to attack the enemy. All was confusion; the demon of discord and madness was among them, and I was glad to see them cool down, when the dissentients to the assault proposed making a round to-night and attacking to-morrow.”

And so this precious game of “if you will I will,” and “you hit me first,” was continued for many days,—more days indeed than the reader would guess if he were left to his own judgment. The row between Subtu and Illudeen took place on the 31st of October, and on the 18th of the following January the enemy was routed and his forts destroyed.

One of the most favourite of Dayak war weapons is the “sumpitan,” a long hollow reed, through which is propelled by the breath small darts or arrows, chiefly formidable on account of the poison with which theirtips are covered. According to Mundy and other writers on Bornean manners and customs, the arrows are contained in a bamboo case hung at the side, and at the bottom of this quiver is the poison of the upas. The arrow is a piece of wood sharp-pointed, and inserted in a socket made of the pith of a tree, which fits the tube of the blow-pipe. The natives carry a small calabash for these arrow heads, and on going into action prepare a sufficient number, and fresh dip the points in the poison, as its deadly influence does not continue long. When they face an enemy the box at the side is open; and, whether advancing or retreating, they fire the poisoned missiles with great rapidity and precision: some hold four spare arrows between the fingers of the hand which grasps the sumpitan, whilst others take their side case.

In advancing, the sumpitan is carried at the mouth and elevated, and they will discharge at least five arrows to one compared with a musket. Beyond a distance of twenty yards they do not shoot with certainty, from the lightness of the arrow, but on a calm day, the range may be a hundred yards. The poison is considered deadly by the Kayans, but the Malays do not agree in this belief. “My own impression is,” says Captain Mundy, “that the consequences resulting from a wound are greatly exaggerated, though if the poison be fresh death may occasionally ensue; but, decidedly, when it has been exposed for any time to the air it loses its virulence. My servant was wounded in the foot by an arrow which had been kept about two months; blood flowed from the puncture, which caused me considerable alarm; but sulphuric acid being applied in conjunction with caustic directly afterwards, he felt no bad effects whatever.”

All the tribes who use the sumpitan, from their peculiar mode of fighting, and the dread of the weapon, are called Nata Hutan, or “Wood Devils.” Besides the sumpitan they also wear the “ilang,” or sword, which is carved at the angle in the rude shape of a horse’s head, and ornamented with tufts of hair, red or black; the blades of these swords are remarkable, one side being convex, the other concave. They are usually very short, but of good metal and fine edge. These warriors wear coats of deer hide, and caps of basket work, some fantastically decorated; and a shield hung over their backs of stout wood, in addition to the weapons already mentioned, forms their equipment for service. It is really curious to witness their movements when the order is given to go out to skirmish—one by one, with a quick pace, yet steady and silenttread, they glide into the bushes or long grass, gain the narrow paths, and gradually disappear in the thickest jungle.

The chief weapon used by the Amazonian Indians closely resembles the Dayak sumpitan, and is called “pucuna.” Its manufacture and use is thus graphically described by Captain Reid:—

“When the Amazonian Indian wishes to manufacture for himself apucunahe goes out into the forest and searches for two tall straight stems of the ‘pashiuba miri’ palm. These he requires of such thickness that one can be contained within the other. Having found what he wants, he cuts both down and carries them home to his molocca. Neither of them is of such dimensions as to render this either impossible or difficult. He now takes a long slender rod—already prepared for the purpose—and with this pushes out the pith from both stems, just as boys do when preparing their pop-guns from the stems of the elder-tree. The rod thus used is obtained from another species ofIriarteapalm, of which the wood is very hard and tough. A little tuft of fern-root, fixed upon the end of the rod, is then drawn backward and forward through the tubes, until both are cleared of any pith which may have adhered to the interior; and both are polished by this process to the smoothness of ivory. The palm of smaller diameter, being scraped to a proper size, is now inserted into the tube of the larger, the object being to correct any crookedness in either, should there be such; and if this does not succeed, both are whipped to some straight beam or post, and thus left till they become straight. One end of the bore, from the nature of the tree, is always smaller than the other; and to this end is fitted a mouthpiece of two peccary tusks to concentrate the breath of the hunter when blowing into the tube. The other end is the muzzle; and near this, on the top, a sight is placed, usually a tooth of the ‘paca’ or some other rodent animal. This sight is glued on with a gum which another tropic tree furnishes. Over the outside, when desirous of giving the weapon an ornamental finish, the maker winds spirally a shining creeper, and then thepucunais ready for action.

“Sometimes only a single shank of palm is used, and instead of the pith being pushed out, the stem is split into two equal parts throughout its whole extent. The heart substance being then removed, the two pieces are brought together, like the two divisions of a cedar-wood pencil, and tightly bound with a sipo.

“Thepucunais usually about an inch and a half in diameter at thethickest end, and the bore about equal to that of a pistol of ordinary calibre. In length, however, the weapon varies from eight to twelve feet.

“This singular instrument is designed, not for propelling a bullet, but an arrow; but as this arrow differs altogether from the common kind, it also needs to be described.

“The blow-gun arrow is about fifteen or eighteen inches long, and is made of a piece of split bamboo; but when the ‘patawa’ palm can be found, this tree furnishes a still better material, in the long spines that grow out from the sheathing bases of its leaves. These are eighteen inches in length, of a black colour, flattish though perfectly straight. Being cut to the proper length—which most of them are without cutting—they are whittled at one end to a sharp point. This point is dipped about three inches deep in the celebrated ‘curare’ poison; and just where the poison mark terminates, a notch is made, so that the head will be easily broken off when the arrow is in the wound. Near the other end a little soft down of silky cotton (the floss of thebombax ceiba) is twisted around into a smooth mass of the shape of a spinning-top, with its larger end towards the nearer extremity of the arrow. The cotton is held in its place by being lightly whipped on by the delicate thread or fibre of abromelia, and the mass is just big enough to fill the tube by gently pressing it inward.

“The arrow thus made is inserted, and whenever the game is within reach the Indian places his mouth to the lower end or mouthpiece, and with a strong ‘puff,’ which practice enables him to give, he sends the little messenger upon its deadly errand. He can hit with unerring aim at the distance of forty or fifty paces; but he prefers to shoot in a direction nearly vertical, as in that way he can take the surest aim. As his common game—birds and monkeys—are usually perched upon the higher branches of tall trees, their situation just suits him. Of course it is not the mere wound of the arrow that kills these creatures, but the poison, which in two or three minutes after they have been hit, will bring either bird or monkey to the ground. When the latter is struck he would be certain to draw out the arrow; but the notch, already mentioned, provides against this, as the slightest wrench serves to break off the envenomed head.

“These arrows are dangerous things—even for the manufacturer of them—to play with: they are therefore carried in a quiver, and with great care—the quiver consisting either of a bamboo joint or a neat wicker case.”

To return, however, to our savage friends the Borneans. Like almost all savages under the sun, they have their war dances:—

“We had one day a dance of the Illanuns, and Gillolos; they might both be called war dances, but are very different. The performer with the Illanuns is decked out with a fine helmet (probably borrowed from our early voyagers) ornamented with bird-of-paradise feathers. Two gold belts crossed like our soldiers, over the breast, are bound at the waist with a fantastical garment reaching half-way down the thigh, and composed of various coloured silk and woollen threads one above another. The sword or kempilan is decorated at the handle with a yard or two of red cloth, and the long upright shield is covered with small rings, which clash as the performer goes through his evolutions. The dance itself consists of a variety of violent warlike gestures; stamping, striking, advancing, retreating, turning, falling, yelling, with here and there bold stops, and excellent as toaplomb, which might have elicited the applause of the opera-house; but generally speaking, the performance was outrageously fierce, and so far natural as approaching to an actual combat; and in half an hour the dancer, a fine young man, was so exhausted that he fell fainting into the arms of his comrades. Several others succeeded, but not equal to the first, and we had hardly a fair opportunity of judging of the Maluku dance, from its short continuance; but it is of a more gentle nature, advancing with the spear, stealthily casting it, then retreating with the sword and shield. The Maluku shield, it should be observed, is remarkably narrow, and is brandished somewhat in the same way as the single-stick player uses his stick, or the Irishman his shillalah, that is to say, it is held nearly in the centre, and whirled every way round.”

The following extract from Sir J. Brooke’s Bornean Journal will serve to initiate the curious reader in the peculiarly horrid custom of “head-hunting,” as observed in this part of the world. Close to the Rajah’s residence were located a party of Sigo Dayaks, who happily discovered in good time an incursion of their deadly enemies the Singés into their territory:—

“The Sigos taking the alarm, cut off their retreat and killed two of the Singé Dayaks, and obtained altogether five heads, though they lost two, and those belonging to their principal warriors. This news reaching me, I hurried up to the hill and arrived just after part of the war party had brought the heads. On our ascending the mountain we found the five heads carefully watched about half a mile from thetown, in consequence of the non-arrival of some of the war party. They had erected a temporary shed close to the place where these miserable remnants of noisome mortality were deposited, and they were guarded by about thirty young men in their finest dresses, composed principally of scarlet jackets ornamented with shells, turbans of the native bark cloth dyed bright yellow and spread on the head, and decked with an occasional feather, flower, or twig of leaves. Nothing can exceed their partiality for these trophies; and in retiring from the war path, the man who has been so fortunate as to obtain a head, hangs it about his neck, and instantly commences his return to his tribe. If he sleep on the way, the precious burden, though decaying and offensive, is not loosened, but rests in his lap, whilst his head (and nose) reclines on his knees.

“On the following morning the heads were brought up to the village, attended by a number of young men, all dressed in their best, and were carried to Parembam’s house, amid the beating of gongs and the firing of one or two guns. They were then disposed of in a conspicuous place in the public hall of Parembam. The music sounded, and the men danced the greater part of the day, and towards evening carried them away in procession through all the campongs except three or four just above me. The women in these processions crowd round the heads as they proceed from house to house, and put sirih and betel-nut in the mouths of the ghastly dead, and welcome them. After this they are carried back in the same triumph, deposited in an airy place, and left to dry. During this process, for seven, eight, and ten days, they are watched by the boys of the age of six to ten years, and during this time they never stir from the public hall: they are not permitted to put their foot out of it whilst engaged in this sacred trust. Thus are the youths initiated.

“For a long time after the heads are hung up, the men nightly meet and beat their gongs, and chant addresses to them, which were rendered thus to me. ‘Your head is in our dwelling, but your spirit wanders to your own country. Your head and your spirit are now ours; persuade, therefore, your countrymen to be slain by us! Speak to the spirits of your tribe; let them wander in the fields, that when we come again to their country we may get more heads, and that we may bring the heads of your brethren, and hang them by your head,’ etc. The tone of this chant is loud and monotonous, and I am not able to say how long it is sung, but certainly for a month after the arrival of the heads, as one party here had had a head for that time, and were still exhorting it.

“These are their customs and modes of warfare, and I may conclude by saying, that though their trophies are more disgusting, yet their wars are neither so bloody, nor their cruelties so great, as those of the North American Indian. They slay all they meet with of their enemies, men, women, and children; but this is common to all wild tribes. They have an implacable spirit of revenge as long as the war lasts, retort evil for evil, and retaliate life for life: and as I have before said, the heads are the trophies, as the scalps are to the red men. But on the contrary, they never torture their enemies, nor do they devour them, and peace can always be restored amongst them by a very moderate payment. In short, there is nothing new in their feelings or in their mode of showing them, no trait remarkable for cruelty, no head hunting for the sake of head hunting. They act precisely on the same impulses as other wild men: war arises from passion or interest, peace from defeat or fear. As friends they are faithful, just, and honest; as enemies, bloodthirsty and cunning; patient on the war path, and enduring fatigue, hunger, and the want of sleep with cheerfulness and resolution. As woodmen, they are remarkably acute, and on all their excursions carry with them a number of ranjows, which, when they retreat, they stick in behind them at intervals at a distance of twenty, fifty, or a hundred yards, so that a hotly-pursuing enemy gets checked, and many severely wounded. Their arms consist of a sword, an iron-headed spear, a few wooden spears, a knife worn at the right side, with a sirih pouch or small basket. Their provision is a particular kind of sticky rice boiled in bamboos. When once they have struck their enemies, or failed, they return without pausing to their homes.”

Among the Dayaks and the Samoans heads are the precious war trophies; among the Indians of North America the scalp alone suffices; the Tinguian of the Philippine Islands, with a refinement of barbarism far excelling his brother savage, must have his enemy’sbrains. While La Gironiere was sojourning at Palan, one of the seventeen villages of which Tinguia is composed, news arrived that a battle had been fought and several renowned warriors captured. Therefore there was to be a brain feast.

“Towards eleven o’clock the chiefs of the town, followed by all the population, directed their steps towards the large shed at the end of the village. There every one took his place on the ground, each party headed by its chiefs, occupying a place marked out for it beforehand. In the middle of the circle formed by the chiefs of the warriors werelarge vessels full ofbasi, a beverage made with the fermented juice of the sugar-cane, and four hideous heads of Guinans entirely disfigured,—these were the trophies of the victory. When all the assistants had taken their places, a champion of Laganguilan y Madalag, took one of the heads and presented it to the chiefs of the town, who showed it to all the assistants, making a long speech comprehending many praises for the conquerors. This discourse being over, the warrior took the head, divided it with strokes of his hatchet, and took out the brains. During this operation so unpleasant to witness, another champion got a second head and handed it to the chiefs; the same speech was delivered, then he broke the skull to pieces in like manner and took out the brains. The same was done with the four remaining skulls of the subdued enemies. When the brains were taken out, the young girls pounded them with their hands into the vases containing the liquor of the fermented sugar-cane; they stirred the mixture round, and then the vases were taken to the chiefs, who dipped in their small osier goblets through the fissures of which the liquid part ran out, and the solid part that remained at the bottom they drank with ecstatic sensuality. I felt quite sick at this scene so entirely new to me. After the chieftains’ turn came the turn of the champions. The vases were presented to them and each one sipped with delight this frightful drink, to the noise of wild songs. There was really something infernal in this sacrifice to victory.

“We sat in a circle, and these vases were carried round. I well understood that we were about undergoing a disgusting test. Alas! I had not long to wait for it. The warriors planted themselves before me and presented me with thebasiand the frightful cup. All eyes were fixed upon me. The invitation was so direct that to refuse it would perhaps be exposing myself to death. It is impossible to describe the interior conflict that passed within me. I would rather have preferred the carbine of a bandit five paces from my chest, or await, as I had already done, the impetuous attack of the wild buffalo. I shall never forget that awful moment; it struck me with terror and disgust; however, I constrained myself, nothing betraying my emotion. I imitated the savages, and dipping the osier goblet into the drink, I approached it to my lips and passed it to the unfortunate Alila (Gironiere’s servant and companion), who could not avoid this infernal beverage. The sacrifice was complete, the libations were over, but not the songs. Thebasiis a very spirituous and inebriating liquor, and the assistants who hadpartaken rather too freely of it sang louder to the noise of the tom-tom and the gong, while the champions divided the human skulls into small pieces destined to be sent as presents to all their friends. The distribution was made during the sitting, after which the chiefs declared the ceremony over. They then danced. The savages divided themselves into two lines, and howling as if they were furious madmen, or terribly provoked, they jumped about, laying their right hand upon the shoulder of their partners and changing places with them. These dances continued all day; at last night came on, each inhabitant repaired with his family and some few guests to his abode, and soon afterwards tranquillity was restored.”

In defending the system of warfare practised by the Dayaks, Rajah Brooke specially instances the thirst for blood and general cruelty evinced by the savage Indian warrior of North America. Like other barbarians the North-American Indian has his European and American champions—Catlin among the latter—who profess to see in this savage nothing vile or mean or cruel, but, on the contrary, all that is brave, generous, and hospitable. The said champions, however, overlook the fact that bravery and generosity as exhibited amongst one’s friends are but insignificant virtues as compared with what they are when displayed towards an enemy; indeed, in the former case they may scarcely be reckoned virtues at all, but merely social amenities, lacking which, man ceases to be companionable. As enemies, how do North-American savages treat each other? Let what has already been said on this subject in these pages, as well as what here follows, furnish an answer to the question.

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