After a couple of hours we arrived at kampong Sembulo, which has an
alluring look when viewed from the lake, lying on a peninsula with
handsome trees which mercifully hide most of the houses. The kapala of
this Malay settlement, who came on board in a carefully laundered white
cotton suit, had courteous manners. He kindly arranged for three prahus to
take us and our belongings ashore.
There was a diminutive pasang-grahan here, neatly made from nipah palm
leaves, where I repaired, while Chonggat and Ah Sewey put up tents near
by. The presence of two easy chairs which had been brought from
Bandjermasin seemed incongruous to the surroundings, and had an irritating
rather than restful effect on me. Both Malays and Dayaks are very desirous
of securing European furniture for the house of the kapala, and will carry
a chair or table for hundreds of miles. On the occasion of my visit to the
Kenyah chief of Long Pelaban, in the Bulungan, he immediately went to a
heap of baskets and other articles occupying one side of the big room, dug
out a heavy table with marble top, which was lying overturned there, and
proudly placed it upright before me to be admired. That this piece of
furniture had been brought so great a distance over the kihams was almost
incomprehensible.
I had a talk with the kapala and a large number of people who soon
gathered in front of the pasang-grahan. The Dayaks who originally lived
here have disappeared or amalgamated with the Malay intruders, who in this
case are largely composed of less desirable elements. It soon became
evident that no information could be gained from these people in regard to
the traditions of the place. One man said that if I would wait four or
five days (in which to be exploited by the wily Malay) he would undertake
to bring me three old men of the place, whereupon the kapala, who was more
obliging than the rest, went to fetch one of these, who pretended to have
no knowledge in such matters.
In order to get relief from the increasing throng of men and boys, I went
for a walk, in which I was joined by the kapala and the mantri, a small
native police authority whom the controleur had sent with me to be of
assistance in making arrangements with the Malays. An old-looking wooden
mosque, twenty years old according to reports, stands at the turn of the
road. Near by is a cemetery covered with a large growth of ferns and
grass, which hides the ugly small monuments of the graves. The houses lie
along a single street in the shade of cocoanut-palms and other trees. On
account of the white sand that forms the ground everything looks clean,
and the green foliage of handsome trees was superb. Everywhere silence
reigned, for the women, being Mohammedans, remain as much as possible
inside the houses, and no voice of playing or crying child was heard.
On returning from our walk, near sunset, I asked the kapala how much I had
to pay for the bringing ashore of my baggage. "Fifteen rupia" (florins)
was the answer. As things go in Borneo this was an incredibly excessive
charge, and as my intention was to go by boat to the Dayak kampong on the
lake, and from there march overland to the small river, Kuala Sampit, I
demanded to know how much then I would have to pay for twenty men that I
needed for the journey. "Five rupia a day for each," he said. Dayaks, who
are far more efficient and reliable, are satisfied with one rupia a day.
Those near by protested that it was not too much, because in gathering
rubber they made even more a day. At that rate it would have cost me a
hundred florins a day, besides their food, with the prospects of having
strikes for higher pay all the way, according to the Malay custom.
Luckily the Selatan had delayed its departure until next morning, so I
was not yet at the mercy of the greedy natives. The kapala seemed to have
as little influence with the people as the mantri, who plainly was afraid
of them. I got a prahu and went out to the captain, who arranged to take
us back next day, away from these inhospitable shores. At dusk he
accompanied me ashore, and in a refreshingly courageous manner read them
the text, telling them that I, who came recommended from the
Governor-General, was entitled to consideration; that it was a disgrace to
the Malay name to behave as they had done, etc. While I was eating my
evening meal two long rows of men were sitting outside on the ground,
watching the performance with close attention.
Next morning the Selatan's boat came to assist in bringing us on board
again. After the captain's severe arraignment last night the mantri seemed
to have spurred up his courage. He said that two rupia would be sufficient
to pay for our luggage. I gave one ringit (f. 2.50), which the captain
said was ample. The kapala, who had exerted himself to get our things on
board again, thanked me for the visit and we steamed away, arriving safely
in Sampit a couple of days later.
CHAPTER XII
THE WAR CHANGES MY PLANS - CHOLERA - UP THE GREAT BARITO RIVER - PURUK TJAHU -
DECIDE TO STAY AMONG THE MURUNGS - A DANCING FEAST
In the beginning of July I returned to Bandjermasin, where I packed my
collections and despatched them to Europe.
