"What does she say, Dubi?" I asked.
"She says, Tuan," replied Dubi, "they like see your skin, if white
the same all over."
This was rather embarrassing, and I told Dubi to insist upon their
going; but Dubi, whose advice I generally took, replied, "I think,
Tuan (master), more better you show to them your skin." I therefore
submitted with as good a grace as possible, and took my shirt off,
while some of them, especially the women, pinched and patted the skin
on my back amid cries of approval and delight.
They asked if the skin of the Tuan Muda (the Rajah) was as white, and,
on being told that it was, a long and serious conversation took place
among them, during which the name of the Tuan Muda kept constantly
cropping up.
The great naturalist, Wallace, met with much the same experience
among the Dayaks, and as the natives of many other countries among
whom I have lived never seemed to display the same curiosity about
my white skin, I put it down to the Dayaks wishing to see what kind
of a skin the great white Rajah, who rules over them, possesses.
The next two or three nights the crowd that waited to see me change
into my pyjamas was, if anything, still larger, a good many Dayaks
from neighbouring villages coming over to see the sight.
