Kitabı oku: «The Last Voyage: To India and Australia, in the 'Sunbeam'», sayfa 9
CHAPTER VII.
LABUAN
Wednesday, April 6th.– At daybreak it was so hazy that our position could not be ascertained. Between 10 and 11 a. m. sights were worked out, and it was found that a current had set us thirty miles to E.N.E. At noon we had run 230 miles under steam, and, putting the yacht's head round, we steered direct for the northern entrance to Victoria Harbour, off Labuan Island, where we dropped anchor at 2 p. m.
Not long afterwards Lieutenant Hamilton, R.N. (Harbour-master, Postmaster, Captain of the Port, Treasurer, and I believe the holder of half a dozen other offices under the British Government), and Mr. Everett called. They told us all the news, and recommended our going alongside the wharf to coal and water at this, the last British port before our long voyage to Australia. It is quite the funniest, most out-of-the-world place we have ever been in, just as Sarawak is the most wonderful little independent state – well managed, complete in itself, with its small army, still smaller navy, and miniature government. Labuan has not possessed a Governor since Sir Charles Lees (then Mr. Lees) left, but it boasts capital public offices, a first-rate Government House, Secretary's residence, church, parsonage, and other amenities of advanced civilisation. Only there is nobody to govern, and hardly anything for the officials to do. At present the colony of Labuan seems a farce, and ought either to be done away with or placed on an entirely different footing. The best plan would probably be to make it an adjunct to the Straits Settlements, at the same time establishing a protectorate over Sarawak and Brunei.
Dr. and Mrs. Leys came on board in the afternoon, and later on we landed with them at the very rotten and rickety wooden pier, and reached a grass sward, by the side of which stand the public offices and a few shops. Some of the party walked, while others drove in various little pony-carriages. Baby and I went with Dr. Leys to see a party of Sarawak Dyaks who had just come in from the Barram River with wedges of gutta-percha, which they were offering for sale, as well as some weapons and clothing just captured. We bought a good many interesting things, such as jackets made of cotton, grown, dyed, and woven by the Dyaks, horn and tortoiseshell combs, kreises, parongs, knives, pipes, tobacco-pouches, travelling-bags of plaited matting, and sumpitans or blowpipes from which poisoned arrows are discharged. They prize these latter very highly, and are generally loth to part with them, so that we may consider ourselves fortunate in having come across these few members of a tribe just returned from a warlike expedition judiciously combined with the more peaceful and profitable trade of gathering gutta-percha and india-rubber. We also met a group of bird's-nest collectors, from whom we bought some nests of both the black and white varieties, scientifically known as Callocalia. Then we purchased two small rhinoceros-horns, greatly prized here for their supposed medicinal virtues, and considered to be worth their weight in gold. We succeeded likewise in getting some pairs of splendid pearl-shells, with fine golden lips and incipient pearls adhering to them; but I am obliged to admit that they were frightfully expensive.
After visiting all the shops in the town – few in number, and nearly all kept by Chinamen – we went for a drive into the country. It was just like driving through one vast park, along soft springy green roads leading through fragrant jungle. There were no fences, and fruit-trees of every kind abounded, heavily laden with oranges, pomaloes, mangoes, mangosteens, durians, and other delicacies – all, unfortunately for us, at present unripe.
The incongruity of some of the things which were pointed out to us during our drive was very amusing. There, for instance, stood a large jail, in the happy condition of being tenantless. So long, indeed, had it been empty that the gates stood permanently open, and the jailers had all departed for other lands, with the exception of the chief official, who remained in the colony, indeed, but who had long since turned his attention to other avocations. The system of plurality appears to prevail in Labuan, and it is said that amusing situations have more than once arisen in consequence of the multiplicity of offices centred in one individual. The postmaster, for instance, has been known to write to the treasurer for payment for the delivery of mails, the harbour-master to the same official for the value of coals consumed, the captain of the port for the homeward passage-money of some shipwrecked sailors – all three letters and the replies thereto being in the same handwriting. I rather think, by the way, that the Labuan treasury was at a low ebb when we were there; for I know that the question arose whether it contained enough money to meet some fifty or sixty dollar notes of ours which we had given in exchange for our purchases.
The pension-list is very large in the island of Labuan. There is a church, but no acting clergyman, though there are three on the pension-list, and the bishop only comes twice a year, or sometimes twice in two years, according to the requirements of the remainder of his large diocese, which comprises North Borneo, Sarawak, and Singapore, besides Labuan. He is expected to arrive to-morrow from Sandakan, but I fear we shall just miss him.
There is an hospital, but no resident doctor – only two on the inevitable pension-list. I believe, however, that a surgeon is now on his way out from England to take up the duties of the post. Government House is surrounded by a charming park and garden, and resembles an old-fashioned West Indian planter's residence of the best class. It might well serve to illustrate scenes in 'Tom Cringle's Log' or 'Peter Simple.' It is built entirely of a dark wood like mahogany, and the rooms themselves looked snug and well arranged; but, alas, the white ants have attacked one wing of the house, and it will have to be pulled down or rebuilt.
Snakes are not numerous in Labuan, but the other day Mrs. Leys found one comfortably coiled up on the sofa, just where she was going to lie down. Not far from the town Dr. Leys once shot an alligator on its nest, which contained thirty-nine eggs. Two of these he gave me, and I hope to get them home safely, for they are not easily to be procured. We were also shown some beautiful shells and weapons, and a war-jacket made of bearskin, decorated with small bells and pieces cut from kerosene-oil tins.
Our drive down to the shore, along the grassy roads of the park, in the clear moonlight, was most delightful. The yacht had gone off to her anchorage, and we had to wait some time for a boat. In the interval we amused ourselves with a Chinese open-air theatre, waxwork exhibition, and a puppet-show.
Thursday, April 7th.– Weighed at 7 a. m. Mr. Everett and Lieutenant Hamilton came on board, and soon afterwards the mail steamer arrived, with the Bishop on board. We steamed across to the mouth of the Brunei River, admiring the beautiful views on our way, especially at Coal Point, where we transferred ourselves to the Rajah of Sarawak's steamer 'Lorna Doone,' and proceeded up the river, the scenery of which is very picturesque. The late Sultan built a wall of stones across the channel with the view of keeping out the British fleet under Sir Thomas Cochrane and Captain Keppel – now Admiral of the Fleet Sir Harry Keppel; and although he did not succeed in his object, the result has been to make the navigation extremely difficult. The bay itself is surrounded by vast forests, and not long ago a steamer was prevented from entering the river for three days, in consequence of a fierce jungle fire, the dense volumes of smoke from which completely obscured the entrance. The hills on either side of the river are prettily wooded, but here and there the land has been cleared and laid out in terraces for the cultivation of pepper by the Chinese. Brunei River has been called the Rhine of the East, and I think it deserves that name better than the town does its proud title of the Venice of the East, the sole point of resemblance in the latter case being that both cities are built upon piles.
Some members of another tribe of Dyaks came on board to-day, with seven heads which they had captured, not on the war-path, but while engaged in a nominally peaceful expedition into the jungle in search of gutta-percha, camphor, and beeswax. They had chanced to come across some natives belonging to a hostile tribe, and had promptly secured as many heads as they could.
The approach to the town of Brunei is extremely picturesque, but the place itself is not imposing. The wooden houses stand, as I have said, upon piles, and there is no means of communication between them except by boats, varying in size from house or shop boats to tiny canoes almost invisible beneath the widespreading hats of their occupants. The flooring of the houses is all open, and all refuse-matter falls or is thrown into the water beneath.
We anchored a little above the 'Packnam,' and sent a messenger to the Sultan to enquire when it would be convenient to him to receive us, for which purpose he appointed two o'clock. In the interval we went for a row, in quite the intensest heat I ever felt, to see something of the town and the market. The women's hats were enormous – from three to four feet in diameter. Anything more curious than the appearance of a boat-load of these ladies can scarcely be imagined. It looked just like a bunch of gigantic mushrooms which had somehow got adrift and was floating down the stream. The marketing is, of course, all done in boats; and it was interesting and amusing to watch the primitive system of exchange and barter. Very little money passed, though some of the hideous old women had little heaps of Chinese cash in front of them. All the young women are kept shut up in the houses, and those let out to buy and sell are indeed frightful specimens of the human race. A couple of durians seemed to buy a hat. I could not arrive at any idea of the price of other articles. The fish is brought up here from the sea, just as at Kuching, by large boats to a certain point and thence in prahus. Both fresh fish and stale fish —very stale and offensive it seemed to us – appeared to be the leading article of commerce.
Besides the small canoes and prahus there were a good many large house and shop boats, with quite a goodly supply of stores, all owned by Chinese.
Borneo produces about half the sago used by the civilised world. On our way among the houses we had many opportunities of observing the primary process of preparing sago for the market. It is not very inviting, and is productive of a most sickening smell. The large logs of the sago-tree are brought down from the jungle by river and moored in the dirty water against the piles underneath the houses, the consoling feature of this arrangement being that the water is running. One log is selected at a time for treatment. A man stands over it, and with an instrument, something between a hatchet and a hoe, extracts all the pith of the tree, which is the sago. This he pitches on to a mat suspended between four poles over the river, and, having poured water over it, he and any members of his family who may happen to be available proceed to run round and jump and dance upon the whole mass, singing and smoking all the time. This pressure has the effect of squeezing the fine sago starch through the mat into a trough below (usually an old canoe), full of water, where it remains until it settles. The water is then run off, and the white sticky mass is sold to Chinamen. It is satisfactory to know that it goes through a good many more washings before it is considered fit for the market.
Brunei is said to have been at one time a town of 25,000 houses – such as they were – with an average of from five to seventeen occupants to each house. This does not, however, include the Sultan and his relatives, with their numerous retinues. Then the numbers dwindled down to 10,000 inhabitants; and at present it is difficult to believe that there are more than half that number; but we are told that some 5,000 are now away on the war-path.
At two o'clock exactly we landed, or, to be more precise, climbed up a narrow ladder, the rungs of which were very far apart, to a wooden staging supported on piles. It was a difficult feat to perform gracefully, and the noise of a salute of nineteen guns, fired almost in our ears, did not tend to facilitate matters or make one feel more comfortable. Then we were led up a long wooden pier, on which stood some small but beautifully ornamented cannon, of Brunei manufacture, until we came to a large room, at one end of which stood a sort of daïs, like an enlarged bedstead, covered with mats. On this the Sultan – an ugly, smiling, feeble old man – shortly afterwards took his seat. He was attended by retainers bearing betel-boxes, spittoons, weapons, and all sorts of things which his Majesty might want or fancy that he wanted. He received us affably, shaking hands with us all, and inviting us to be seated, after which he ordered large wax candles to be placed in front of Tom and me, Tom's candle, however, being much the bigger of the two. This was intended as a great compliment, and if times had not been so bad and beeswax so scarce, the candles would, we were informed, have been of even greater size. We were then offered cigarettes and excellent tea, flavoured with herbs, very hot and sweet.
The sides of the room had been left open, for the sake of coolness, but the surrounding space was filled by a dense mass of human beings eager to see what was going on, so that there was not much fresh air. Conversation rather languished, for neither of the interpreters was very quick, and we had considerable misgivings as to the value and correctness of their translation of our pretty little speeches.
At last, after presenting the Sultan with some slight offerings and expressing our warm thanks for the kind reception accorded us, we retired, being escorted to the boat by the First Wazier and another officer of state. Having again admired the cannon, and heard the history of their manufacture, we re-embarked in our boats under a fresh salute of nineteen guns. I fear the poor town of Brunei must have been put to great expense by the Sultan's desire to do us honour. Just as we were starting, the large candles, hastily blown out, were put into our boat, as a last and very special compliment.
We returned straight on board the 'Lorna Doone,' and had scarcely arrived ere we saw a long, smartly ornamented thirty-paddle canoe emerge from among the houses near the Sultan's palace, and come swiftly towards us. It had a white flag at the stern and a green flag at the bow, and was crowded with people carrying umbrellas of all sorts, sizes, and colours, which served as insignia of the rank of their owners. Among them two very large yellow Chinese umbrellas, surrounded by three little carved galleries, were conspicuous. One was carried over Pangeran Bandahara, and the other over his younger brother, Pangeran di Gadong, who holds the position of Second Wazier of Brunei, but who had not appeared at the palace in consequence of his not being on speaking terms with the present Sultan. The two royalties, without their umbrellas, but accompanied by an interpreter and a few of the chief officers, came on board the 'Lorna Doone,' and were received by us in the extremely small deck-house, the remainder of the suite having to content themselves with looking through the windows and strolling about the deck. It was very puzzling to be obliged to invent fresh civilities, for we felt that our recent visit had quite exhausted our stock; but I luckily bethought me that there was some connection by marriage between the Sultans of Brunei and Johore; and the discussion of this point, which must have cost the poor interpreters much mental effort, lasted us a long time. In fact, with the exception of a short interval spent in enquiries as to our respective ages, it carried us on until it was time for our visitors to take their departure, which they did with many effusive hand-shakings, and many no doubt charming little farewell speeches.
The way in which the connection between the Sultans of Brunei and Johore came about is rather curious. The Sultan of Sulu had been engaged in negotiations for the marriage of a princess of Johore (an aunt of the present Sultan) to one of his sons. The Sultan of Brunei had also set his mind on the same young lady. When the Sulu fleet of prahus started to bring the fair – or dark – princess to her new home, the Brunei fleet followed as far as the Straits of Johore, and anchored outside, but in the night a swift Brunei prahu stole softly along the shore, carried the young lady off, crept through the fleets again, and was soon out at sea on its way back to Brunei. The next morning, when the princess was not forthcoming and the true state of affairs was discovered, the Sulu fleet was naturally anxious to start in pursuit; but the Brunei prahus intercepted them, and before the Sulus could fight their way through, the lady had been safely lodged in the Sultan's harem at Brunei.
If the weather had not been so exhaustingly hot, and Tom had not been so much afraid of our getting fever, I should have tried to persuade him to take us to Sulu, which must be a most interesting country, judging from the description of Burbridge, Wallace, and others. The natives retain many traces of the old Spanish dominion in their style of dress and ideas generally. They have excellent horses, or ponies, and are adepts at pig-sticking. Occasionally boar-hunts are organised on a large scale, which allow of a fine display of horsemanship, as well as of gaudy costumes. At the feasts given by the Sultan, the dishes, and even the plates, are all of mother-of-pearl shells, of the finest golden-lipped variety, each with one or more large pearls adhering to it. In some cases visitors have been tempted to pocket their plates, and strict watch and ward has therefore to be kept over them. There were some Sulus on the 'Lorna Doone' with us, wearing horsey-looking trousers, short jackets with buttons on the sleeves, bright sashes stuck full of knives and other arms, and jaunty little turbans, something like a Maccaroni's cap with the traditional feather stuck in it. They seemed altogether superior in point of civilisation and appearance to the Sarawak and Brunei Dyaks; and if the taste of the lady whose adventures I have just recorded was at all consulted, I cannot help thinking she made a mistake in the selection of her adopted country.
After the Sultan's nephew had departed, we had a visit from Achu Mohammed, who has been British Consul here for many years, often in very troublous times. With him came an army of shopkeepers, or rather manufacturers, from whom we bought several curious specimens of Brunei wares. The metalwork is really beautiful, especially the brass sirrhi-boxes, and some kettles with an ingenious arrangement in the lid, causing them to whistle loudly when the water boils. This place is also celebrated for its earrings, which are exactly like champagne-corks in size and shape, and are made of gold or silver gilt, and studded with rubies, emeralds, and other stones found in the neighbourhood. The narrow part of the cork is fixed in a large hole in the ear, down the back of which a row of little earrings is often worn in addition.
Brunei looked very pretty as we left it, in the light of the now setting sun. The 'Packnam' had already started on her return journey, and there was not much time to spare if we wanted to save the tide and the light. On our way down the river we again saw the heights from which Sir Harry Keppel had bombarded the town, and the Chinese pepper-terraces, now fast falling to decay. By five o'clock we had arrived alongside the 'Sunbeam,' with quite a cargo of purchases, and soon afterwards, having said farewell to our friends and entrusted to their care a very heavy mail for England, we steamed away.
The spot where we had anchored in Brunei Bay was exactly opposite the Muara coal-mines, of which we could just see the shafts, with one or two houses beside them. On our return to the yacht we found that the owners of these mines had been on board, and had expressed a hope that we would postpone our departure long enough to enable us to visit the colliery, which seems likely to become a valuable property. The seam is twenty-six feet thick, and the coal is of good quality. After the Labuan failure, however, one is disposed not to be over-sanguine in such matters. When Mr. Cowie first brought his wife out here the place looked so desolate and dreary that she absolutely refused to land. After a while she was persuaded to make a closer inspection, and, being a very bad sailor, has never left the place since, except once, when the Rajah of Sarawak sent his steam-launch for her on New Year's Day to enable her to go and see some sports at Labuan. She was afraid to come on board the yacht, and we had not time to call upon her and take her some books and papers, as I should like to have done, for her life must be terribly isolated.
I have often been astonished to see how well people resist the relaxing influences of these out-of-the-way places. Their houses all have a nice homelike look; the ladies are well dressed, and apparently keep their households in excellent order. In the rare case of unexpected visitors dropping in, meals are produced at short notice without bustle or confusion, the table being often decorated with flowers, and always arranged with refinement and elegance. What struck me as perhaps even more remarkable than the neatness and order of their houses was, that these ladies, who have to do, or at all events very closely superintend the doing of, the more important part of the household work, talk far less about their servants and domestic troubles than many people in England, who only have to give an occasional order. They have also plenty of conversation on other than local subjects, though there are no circulating libraries within reach, and the supply of books and newspapers must necessarily be limited. It may be that this scarcity leads them to study the volumes which they possess more closely.
Friday, April 8th.– To our great disappointment, we passed Gaya Island and Bay before daybreak, and were therefore unable to see anything of the magnificent harbour, where the North Borneo Company has one of its many stations.
At 6 a. m. we opened out Ambong Bay, behind which rose Kina Balu (in English 'the Chinese Widow'), 13,700 feet high, looking most beautiful through the morning mist. A little to the north of this spot the Tainpasick River runs into the sea, and we are told that the best way of reaching the lower elevations of the mighty mountain, with their endless wealth of orchids and pitcher-plants, lies on that side.
Finding that to pass outside Banguey Island would involve our making a large circuit, and losing some fine scenery, we decided to go through the Mallewallé Channel, and to anchor off Kudat for the night. At noon we had come 160 miles under steam, Kudat being thirty miles distant. At 2 p. m. we reached the northernmost point of the island of Borneo, which used to be the favourite place of assembling for the large fleets of pirate prahus, formerly the terror not only of the neighbouring Straits but of much more distant seas and countries.
The entrance to Marudu Bay, another of the many fine natural harbours on this gulf-indented coast, is most picturesque. At 4 p. m. we anchored off Kudat, in the small bay of that name, which is only an indentation of the shore of the larger Marudu Bay.
We landed at the usual rickety Borneo pier, and were met by Mr. Davies, the Resident, and Dr. Lamb, the company's doctor for this district. Tab and Mr. Pemberton soon made friends with Dr. Lamb, and went out snipe-shooting with him, the rest of the party meantime strolling about the bazaars, which, though neither large nor well stocked, afforded an opportunity of picking up a few curios, such as saws from the nose of a saw-fish, sirrhi-boxes, gongs, old china jars, Java sarongs, and so forth. We were also shown two large heaps of gum from the interior, lying on the seashore ready for shipment. Then we took a few photographs, including one of a house on piles, and another of a long Borneo house, in which many families live under one roof, with separate entrances for each family. Afterwards we strolled slowly on up the hill, towards the Residency. It was a pretty walk, but rather tiring this hot evening. I felt nearly exhausted myself, and was grieved to see how completely done up Tom was by what ought to have been for him very easy work. When at last the verandah was reached he was quite worn out and glad to lie down in one of the comfortable basket chairs. Delicious tea and cool champagne-cup soon refreshed us, however, and made us better able to admire the charming garden, with its profusion of plants and flowers, and to watch the antics of two tame mias, or orang-outangs, which were chained in separate palm-trees close to the house. They were ugly – nay, hideous animals – but very amusing in their ways. Their names were Zachariah and Jane; and Zachariah, being the tamer of the two, was allowed to run about loose. He came to his master to be fed, then ran up his own palm-tree, from which he jumped easily on to Jane's, and tried to entice her to other tree-tops; but of course her chain prevented this. It made quite a little comedy, for when Zachariah had teased her sufficiently he brought her bunches of fresh leaves, and evidently did his best to induce her to, as it were, kiss and make friends. We watched them with much interest for a long time, and at last tried to take a photograph, but I fear they were too restless to allow it to turn out well.
Some fine specimens of the heads of wild cattle shot by Mr. Davies stood in the verandah. One head alone required four men to move it. Mr. Davies gave me some interesting curios brought from a village where a rather severe fight took place recently. The natives posted themselves with great cunning behind some rocks on the top of a hill, which our people had to scale. From this shelter they hurled down spears and poisoned arrows, wounding many of their assailants, while our rifles were of no effect against them until the height had been carried.
On our way back to the yacht we had to cross a rickety wooden bridge over a muddy creek, in which some of the party thought they saw a crocodile; not a rare sight on this coast, though they are not so numerous here as in Sarawak, where the Government offers a reward of a dollar a foot for all those killed. Last year 2,000 dollars were paid for 2,000 feet of crocodiles of all sizes and ages.
Dr. Lamb, who dined on board with us, appears to be greatly interested in his work, though the life is rather rough. He has a good deal of riding about the country to vaccinate the natives, who seem fully to understand the value of the operation in mitigating the ravages of smallpox – a disease by which the country was at one time decimated. Our regret at not having been able to stop at Gaya was increased when we heard from Dr. Lamb that the Assistant Resident, Mr. Little, had just returned from a successful ascent of Kina Balu, having reached the summit by a new route, and brought down a wonderful collection of plants and flowers.
About ten o'clock Mr. Davies came on board, and with Dr. Lamb and Tab started off on a shooting expedition across the bay.
Saturday, April 9th.– The night was hot and oppressive, and we could not help feeling somewhat anxious about the sportsmen, whose expedition in search of wild cattle has a decided spice of danger in it. Two o'clock came, and then four, and still they did not return. At last, to our great relief, at half-past six they arrived alongside, bringing with them a fine young Sambur buck, the carrying of the carcass having delayed them considerably. They were disappointed not to have succeeded in killing a buffalo, especially as they had seen several herds of them in the distance; but the natives who had been sent to drive the cattle performed their task with such indiscreet ardour, and with so much noise, that of course they frightened the cattle away.
Directly the sportsmen came on board we started, and proceeded under steam close under Malleangau, and thence southward of the fatal Egeria Rocks to the western extremity of the island of Mallewallé, passing to the northward of Mandarilla, and to the southward of Kakabau, whence we steered for Tigabu. By noon we had steamed eighty-seven miles since leaving Kudat. Tom went up on the fore-yard at 6.30 a. m., and did not come down until 1.30 p. m., when we had virtually passed the most dangerous part of the coast. We sent his breakfast up to him in a bucket, for he did not dare leave his post for one moment, the channel being most intricate, and the only guide the difference in colour of the coral patches. He suffered considerably from the heat of the almost vertical sun, which blistered his legs, in spite of extra protection, and made the glasses, which he had constantly to use, so hot that they burnt his hands and eyes, as they did ours when he brought them down on deck.
About 4 p. m. we touched on a coral patch, in two fathoms, not marked on the chart (in lat. 6° 40´ N., long. 117° 52´ E.), which rather astonished us, and caused us to go still more slowly and carefully for some time. The sea being absolutely smooth, and the sky overcast, there was neither break nor reflection to help the look-out, though Tom thought that he had noticed something peculiar in the colour of the water a few moments previously. He was almost continuously in the foretop again from two o'clock until dark, when he took up his position on the topgallant forecastle.
