For superstitious reasons the Dyaks do not interfere with the crocodile until he has shown some sign of his man-eating propensity. If the crocodile will live at peace with him, the Dyak has no wish to start a quarrel. If, however, the crocodile breaks the truce and kills someone, then the Dyaks set to work to find the culprit, and keep on catching and killing crocodiles until they find him. The Dyaks generally wear brass ornaments, and by cutting open a dead crocodile they can easily find out if he is the creature they wish to punish. Sometimes as many as ten crocodiles are killed before they manage to destroy the animal they want.

There are some men whose business it is to catch crocodiles, and who earn their living by that means; and whenever a human being has fallen a victim to one of these brutes, a professional crocodile catcher is asked to help to destroy the murderer. The majority of natives will not interfere with the reptiles, or take any part in their capture, probably fearing that if they did anything of the kind, they themselves may some time or other suffer for it by being attacked by a crocodile.

The ordinary way of catching a crocodile is as follows. A piece of hard wood about an inch in diameter and about ten inches long, is sharpened to a point at each end. A length of plaited bark of the baru tree, about eight feet long, is tied to a shallow notch in the middle of this piece of wood, and a single cane or rattan, forty or fifty feet long, is tied to the end of the bark rope, and forms a long line. The most irresistible bait is the carcase of a monkey, though often the body of a dog or a snake is used. The more overpowering the stench, the greater is the probability of its being taken, as the crocodile will only swallow putrifying flesh. When a crocodile has fresh meat, he carries it away and hides it in some safe place until it decomposes. This bait is securely lashed to the wooden bar, and one of the pointed ends is tied back with a few turns of cotton to the bark rope, bringing the bar and rope into the same straight line.

The next thing is to suspend the bait from the bough of a tree overhanging the part of the river known to be the haunt of the animals. The bait is hung a few feet above the high-water level, and the rattan line is left lying on the ground, and the end of the rattan is planted in the soil.

Several similar lines are set in different parts of the river, and there left for days, until one of the baits is taken by a crocodile. Attracted either by the smell or sight of the bait, some animal raises itself from the water and snaps at the hanging bundle, the slack line offering no resistance until the bait has been swallowed and the brute begins to make off. Then the planted end of the line holds sufficiently to snap the slight thread binding the pointed stick to the bark rope. The stick thus returns to its original position, at right angles to the line, and becomes jammed across the crocodile’s stomach, the two sharpened points fixing themselves into the flesh.

Next morning the trappers search for the missing traps, and seldom fail to find the coils of floating rotan, or cane, on the surface of some deep pool at no great distance from the place where they were set. A firm but gentle pull soon brings the crocodile to the surface, and if he be a big one, he is brought ashore, though smaller specimens are put directly into the boat, and made fast there.

Sometimes the cotton holding the bar to the line fails to snap. In that case the crocodile, becoming suspicious of the long line attached to what he has swallowed, manages to disgorge the bait and unopened hook in the jungle, where it is sometimes found. But should the cotton snap and the bar fix itself in the animal’s inside, nothing can save the brute.

The formidable teeth of the crocodile are not able to bite through the rope attached to the bait, because the baru fibres of which the rope is made get between his pointed teeth, and this bark rope holds no matter how much the fibres get separated.

Professional crocodile catchers are supposed to possess some wonderful power over the animals which enables them to land them and handle them without trouble. I have seen a man land a large crocodile on the bank by simply pulling gently at the line. But this is not surprising, as from the crocodile’s point of view there is nothing else to do but follow, when every pull, however gentle, causes considerable pain.

The rest of the proceeding is more remarkable. The animal is addressed in eulogistic language and beguiled, so the natives say, into offering no resistance. He is called a “rajah amongst animals,” and he is told that he has come on a friendly visit, and must behave accordingly. First the trapper ties up its jaws—not a very difficult thing to do. The next thing he does appears to me not very safe. Still speaking as before in high-flown language, he tells the crocodile that he has brought rings for his fingers, and he binds the hind-legs fast behind the beast’s back, so taking away from him his grip on the ground, and consequently his ability to use his tail. When one remembers what a sudden swing of the muscular tail means, one cannot help admiring the man who coolly approaches a large crocodile for the purpose of tying his hind-legs. Finally the fore-legs are tied in the same way over the animal’s back. A stout pole is passed under the bound legs, and the animal is carried away. He is taken to the nearest Government station, the reward is claimed, and he is afterwards cut open, and the contents of his stomach examined.

Though the animal is spoken to in such flattering terms before he is secured, the moment his arms and legs are bound across his back and he is powerless for evil, they howl at him and deride him for his stupidity.

The professional crocodile catchers are generally Malays, who are sent for whenever their services are required. But there are Dyaks who have given up their old superstitious dread of the animal, and are expert crocodile catchers.

CHAPTER IV
THE DYAK CHARACTER

General remarks—Kind to children—Industrious—Frugal—Honest—Two cases of theft—Curses—Honesty of children—Truthful—Curious custom—Tugong Bula—Hospitable—Morals—Desire for children—Divorce—Adultery—Dyak law concerning adultery—Dyak view of marriage—Unselfishness—Domestic affection—Example.

The Dyaks are seen at their best in their own jungle homes, in the midst of their natural surroundings. The man who has only met the hangers-on of the towns has little idea of their true character. To one who knows them well, who has lived among them, and seen them at their work and at their play, there is something very attractive about the Dyaks. They are very human, and in many points are very like children, with the child’s openness in telling his thoughts and showing his feelings, with the child’s want of restraint in gratifying his wishes, the child’s alternate moods of selfishness and affection, obedience and obstinacy, restlessness and repose. Like children, they live in the present, and take little thought for the future. Like children, they love passionately those who are kind to them, and trust absolutely those whom they recognize as their superiors.

They are cheerful, merry, and pleasure-loving. Fine dress is a passion, and the love, in both men and women, for bright colours is very marked, and yet somehow the brilliant colours that are seen at a Dyak feast are not at all displeasing. They are fond of song; the boatman sings as he paddles along. They are fond of games, and a Dyak feast is the occasion for playing many games, and for friendly trials of strength. They are fond of dancing, and the two Dyak dances—the Sword Dance and the War Dance—are always watched with interest by those present.

They are, like most Orientals, apathetic, and have no desire to rise above their present condition. But they are truthful and honest, and are faithful to those who have been kind to them; and these qualities cover a multitude of deficiencies, and are rather unusual in Eastern races.

They are kind and affectionate to children, and in all the many years I lived in Borneo I did not meet a single instance of cruelty to children. They are considerate to the aged, and parents who are past work are generally kindly treated by their children and grandchildren. They are most hospitable to strangers, and offer them food and shelter. And yet these are the people who some sixty years ago were dreaded pirates and terrible head-hunters! Their improvement under a kind and just Government has been wonderful.

The Dyaks are industrious and hard-working, and in the busy times of paddy-planting they work from early in the morning till dusk, only stopping for a meal at midday. The division of labour between the men and the women is a very reasonable one, and the women have no more than their fair share of work. The men do the timber-felling, wood-cutting, clearing the land, house and boat building, carrying burdens, and the heavier work generally. The women help in the lighter part of the farm work, husk and pound the rice they eat, cook, weave, make mats and baskets, fetch the water for their daily use from the well or river, and attend to the children.

The Dyak is frugal. He does not as a rule seek to accumulate wealth, but he is careful of whatever he may earn. He plants each year what he supposes will produce sufficient rice to supply his own needs—a portion of this is for family consumption, a portion for barter for such simple luxuries as tobacco, salt fish, cloth, etc., and a third portion for hospitality. If he happen to have an exceptionally good harvest, he may sell some paddy, and the money thus obtained is not lavishly squandered, but saved with the object of investing in gongs or other brassware, old jars, etc., which do not decrease in value with age. On such occasions as feasts nearly all the food and drink used are home products or begged from friends. A Dyak drinks water as a rule, but if he takes alcohol in any form, it is a home-brewed rice spirit (tuak). To spend money upon anything which he can make for himself, or for which he can make a substitute, is, in his opinion, needless waste.

The Dyak in his jungle home is remarkably honest. Families are often away from their homes for weeks at a time, living in little huts on their farms, and though no one is left in charge of their rooms, things are seldom stolen. Sometimes Dyaks become demoralized by associating with other races in the towns, but a case of theft among the Dyaks in their native wilds is indeed rare. I have not been able to discover any enactment of traditional law which fixes the punishment for theft. It has not been necessary to deal with the subject at all. In my missionary travels in Borneo I have often left by mistake in a Dyak house some small thing like a soap-box, or a handkerchief, or a knife—things I know the Dyaks love—but it has always been returned to me.

With an experience of nearly twenty years in Borneo, during which I came into contact with thousands of the people, I have known of only two instances of theft among the Dyaks. One was a theft of rice. The woman who lost the rice most solemnly and publicly cursed the thief, whoever it might be. The next night the rice was secretly left at her door. The other was a theft of money. In this case, too, the thief was cursed. The greater part of the money was afterwards found returned to the box from which it had been abstracted. Both these incidents show the great dread the Dyak has of a curse. Even an undeserved curse is considered a terrible thing, and according to Dyak law, to curse a person for no reason at all is a fineable offence.

A Dyak curse is a terrible thing to listen to. I have only once heard a Dyak curse, and I am sure I do not want to do so again. I was travelling in the Saribas district, and at that time many of the Dyaks there had gone in for coffee-planting; indeed, several of them had started coffee plantations on a small scale. A woman told me that someone had over and over again stolen the ripe coffee-berries from her plantation. Not only were the ripe berries stolen, but the thief had carelessly picked many of the young berries and thrown them on the ground, and many of the branches of the plants had been broken off. In the evening, when I was seated in the public part of the house with many Dyak men and women round me, we happened to talk about coffee-planting. The woman was present, and told us of her experiences, and how her coffee had been stolen by some thief, who, she thought, must be one of the inmates of the house. Then she solemnly cursed the thief. She began in a calm voice, but worked herself up into a frenzy. We all listened horror-struck, and no one interrupted her. She began by saying what had happened, and how these thefts had gone on for some time. She had said nothing before, hoping that the thief would mend his ways; but the matter had gone on long enough, and she was going to curse the thief, as nothing, she felt sure, would make him give up his evil ways. She called on all the spirits of the waters and the hills and the air to listen to her words and to aid her. She began quietly, but became more excited as she went on. She said something of this kind:—

“If the thief be a man, may he be unfortunate in all he undertakes! May he suffer from a disease that does not kill him, but makes him helpless—always in pain—and a burden to others. May his wife be unfaithful to him, and his children become as lazy and dishonest as he is himself. If he go out on the war-path, may he be killed, and his head smoked over the enemy’s fire. If he be boating, may his boat be swamped and may he be drowned. If he be out fishing, may an alligator kill him suddenly, and may his relatives never find his body. If he be cutting down a tree in the jungle, may the tree fall on him and crush him to death. May the gods curse his farm so that he may have no crops, and have nothing to eat, and when he begs for food, may he be refused, and die of starvation.

“If the thief be a woman, may she be childless, or if she happen to be with child let her be disappointed, and let her child be still-born, or, better still, let her die in childbirth. May her husband be untrue to her, and despise her and ill-treat her. May her children all desert her if she live to grow old. May she suffer from such diseases as are peculiar to women, and may her eyesight grow dim as the years go on, and may there be no one to help her or lead her about when she is blind.”

I have only given the substance of what she said; but I shall never forget the silence and the awed faces of those who heard her. I left the house early next morning, so I do not know what was the result of her curse—whether the thief confessed or not.

The children are just as honest as their elders. A missionary used to visit certain stations once a quarter. At one of the stations he had a small native hut built for his accommodation. On one occasion some small Dyak boys came to him with three cents (less than one penny in value), which they said they wished to return to him. They had picked them up under the floor of his hut. They thought they had fallen through the open floor, and belonged to the missionary, and, as a matter of course, they wished to return the money to the owner. I have never had occasion to punish any of the schoolboys living in my house for theft. They had access to everything there was, but, though they had no scruples about asking for things, they never stole anything.

The Dyaks are also very truthful. So disgraceful indeed do the Dyaks consider the deceiving of others by an untruth that such conduct is handed down to posterity by a curious custom. They heap up a pile of the branches of trees in memory of the man who has uttered a great lie, so that future generations may know of his wickedness and take warning from it. The persons deceived start the tugong bula—“the liar’s mound”—by heaping up a large number of branches in some conspicuous spot by the side of the path from one village to another. Every passer-by contributes to it, and at the same time curses the man in memory of whom it is. The Dyaks consider the adding to any tugong bula they may pass a sacred duty, the omission of which will meet with supernatural punishment, and so, however pressed for time a Dyak may be, he stops to throw on the pile some branches or twigs.

A few branches, a few dry twigs and leaves—that is what the tugong bula is at first. But day by day it increases in size. Every passer-by adds something to it, and in a few years’ time it becomes an imposing memorial of one who was a liar. Once started, there seems to be no means of destroying a tugong bula. There used to be one by the side of the path between Seratok and Sebetan. As the branches and twigs that composed it often came over the path, on a hot day in the dry weather I have more than once applied a match to it and burnt it down. In a very short time a new heap of branches and twigs was piled on the ashes of the old tugong bula.

It has often been remarked by Dyaks that any other punishment would, if a man had his choice, be much preferred to having a tugong bula put up in his memory. Other punishments are soon forgotten, but this remains as a testimony to a man’s untruthfulness for succeeding generations to witness, and is a standing disgrace to his children’s children. Believing, as the Dyaks do, in the efficacy of curses, it is easy to understand how a Dyak would dread the accumulation of curses which would necessarily accompany the formation of a tugong bula.

The Dyaks are very hospitable. They are always ready to receive and entertain strangers. A man travelling on foot through the Dyak country need never trouble about food. He would be fed at the Dyak houses he passed on his journey, as part of their crops is reserved to feed visitors. When the family meal is ready, visitors are invited to partake of it. If many visitors come to a house at the same time, some have their meal with one family and some with another.

The morals of the Dyak from an Eastern point of view are good. There is no law to punish immorality between unmarried people. The parents do not seem to be strict, and it is considered no disgrace for a girl to be on terms of intimacy with the youths of her fancy until she has made her final choice. It is supposed that every young Dyak woman will eventually marry, so her duty is plainly to choose a husband in her youth from among the many men she knows. And yet, for all this, I should say that promiscuous immorality is unknown. It is true that very often a girl is with child before her marriage, but from the Dyak point of view this is no disgrace if the father acknowledges the child and marries the woman. The greatest desire of the Dyak is to become a parent, to be known as father or mother of So-and-so. They drop their own names after the birth of a child. A young couple in love have no opportunities of private meetings excepting at night, and the only place is the loft where the young lady sleeps. The suitor pays his visit, therefore, when the rest of the family are asleep, and she gets up from her bed and receives him. Two or three hours may be spent in her company before he leaves her, or if he should be one whom she is not willing to accept as a husband, she soon gives him his dismissal. If acceptable, the young man may be admitted to such close intimacy as though they were already married. The reason is to ascertain the certainty of progeny. On his departure he leaves with the young lady some ornament or article of his attire, as a pledge of his sincerity and good faith. On the first signs of pregnancy the marriage ceremony takes place, and they are man and wife.

Divorce is very uncommon after the birth of a child, but where there are no children, for such reasons as incompatibility of temper or idleness, divorce is obtainable by either husband or wife by paying a small fine. The women as a rule are faithful to their husbands, especially when they have children, and adultery is very uncommon when there is a family.

The Dyak law respecting adultery is peculiar and worthy of notice. If a woman commit adultery with a married man, his wife may make a complaint to the headman of the house, and receive a fine from the guilty woman; or, if she prefer it, she may waylay the guilty woman and thrash her; but if she do so, she must forgo one-half of the fine otherwise due to her. In the eyes of the Dyak the woman is alone to blame in a case like this. “She knew,” they say, “the man has a wife of his own; she had no business to entice him away from her.” If a married man commits adultery with an unmarried woman the procedure is similar. The wife of the man may punish the girl, but no one punishes the man. The whole blame, according to Dyak ideas, falls on the woman for tempting the man.

If a married man commits adultery with a married woman, the husband of the woman is allowed to strike him with a club or otherwise maltreat him, while the wife of the adulterer has the right to treat the adulteress in the same way. The innocent husband supposes the one most to be blamed is not his wife, but her tempter, and vice versâ. This striking must not, however, take place in a house; it must be done in the open. The club used must not be of hard wood. Very often this striking is merely a means of publishing the fact that adultery has been committed, and no one is much hurt, but I have known cases where the man has been very badly wounded. No striking can take place after the matter has been talked about or confessed, and if one knew for certain of a case of adultery, one could easily stop this maltreatment of each other by talking about it publicly. The case is then settled by fining the guilty parties. Where both parties are married, and no divorce follows, the fining is no punishment, because each party pays to the other.

The Dyak view of the marriage state, especially where there are children, is by no means a low one. Though an Oriental people living in a tropical climate, their own traditional law allows a man to have only one wife. If, as sometimes is the case, a couple continue to live together after one of them has committed adultery, it is due to the fact that there are little children whom they do not want to part with, and not because they think lightly of the crime of adultery.

The Dyaks are very unselfish, and show a great deal of consideration for each other. They live together under one roof in large communities. Though each family has a separate room, all the rooms are usually connected one with another by little windows in the partition walls. This communal life accounts for the good-nature and amiability of the Dyaks. The happiness and comfort, to say nothing of the safety, of the community in times past, depend largely on their getting on well one with another. Therefore, as a natural result, there has grown up a great deal of unselfish regard for each other among the inmates of the Dyak village house.

Domestic affection between the different members of one family is very great. Especially is this the case between parents and children. An old father or mother need never work unless they like. Their children will provide for them.

Parents will risk their lives for their children. At Semulong, near Banting, a man and his son, a youth about twenty years old, were returning from their farm, and had just arrived at the landing-place. The father stepped out of the canoe, washed his feet on the river-bank, and then turned to speak to his son in the boat. But the son had disappeared. The father at once guessed that a crocodile had taken him, though he had heard no noise. He shouted for help from the village house, and at once jumped into the water. He dived, and felt his hand strike the crocodile. Drawing his short sword (duku), he attacked the animal. He managed to drive the point of his sword into the animal, when the beast let go his son. The father brought him at once to the nearest mission-station, where he was treated, but after ten days died of tetanus. The inner part of the thigh and knee of one leg was torn away, so as to expose the ragged ends of sinews under the knee.

CHAPTER V
HEAD-HUNTING

Head-hunting—Women an incentive—Gruesome story—Marriage of Dyak Chiefs—Legend—Some customs necessitating a human head—A successful head-hunter not necessarily a hero—A dastardly crime—War expeditions—The spear token—My experience at a village in Krian—Dyak war-costume—Weapons—The Sumpit—Poison for darts—Consulting omen birds—War-boats—Camping—War Council—Defences—War alarm—Ambushes—Decapitation and treatment of head—Return from a successful expedition—Women dancing—Two Christian Dyak Chiefs—Their views on the matter of head-taking.

Warfare is an important element among all savage races, and the Dyaks are no exception to the rule. But it would be wrong to suppose that they are naturally abnormally bloodthirsty because head-hunting was such a regular practice with them. Mere love of fighting is not the only reason for the terrible custom of head-hunting which at one time prevailed to such a great extent among the Dyaks, but which at present, under the rule of Rajah Brooke, is fast dying out. There are many other causes. Theft committed by one tribe against another, revenge for the murder of some of their friends, and a thousand other minor pretexts, are often the origin of an expedition of one tribe against another. The Dyaks are faithful, hospitable, just, and honest to their friends, and, being so, it naturally follows that they avenge any act of injustice or cruelty to them, and they are consequently bloodthirsty and revengeful against their enemies, and willing to undergo fatigue, hunger, want of sleep, and other privations when on the war-path. I have often been told by Dyaks that the reason why the young men are so anxious to bring home a human head is because the women have so decided a preference for a man who has been able to give proof of his bravery by killing one of the enemy.

The desire to appear brave in the eyes of his lady-love sometimes leads a young man to mean and cowardly crimes. The following gruesome incident actually took place many years ago. A young man in the Batang Lupar started by himself to seek for a head from a neighbouring tribe. In a few days he came back with the desired prize. His relatives asked him how it was he was able to get to the enemy’s country and back in such a short time. He replied gravely that the spirits of the woods had assisted him. About a month afterwards a headless trunk was discovered near one of their farms. It was found to be the body of his victim, an old woman of his own tribe, not very distantly related to himself!

In the old days no Dyak Chief of any standing could be married unless he had been successful in procuring the head of an enemy. (See also Chapter XXII.) For this reason it was usual to make an expedition into the enemy’s country before the marriage-feast of any great Chief could be held. The head brought home need not be that of a man; the head of a woman or a child would serve the purpose quite as well.

There is a legend related among the Dyaks as a reason for this custom. Once upon a time a young man loved a maiden, but she refused to marry him until he had brought to her some proof of what he was able to do. He went out hunting and killed a deer, and brought it to her, but still she would have nothing to say to him. He went again into the jungle, and, to show his courage, fought and killed a mias (orang-utan), and brought it home as a proof of his courage; but still she turned away from him. Then, in anger and disappointment, he rushed out and killed the first man he saw, and, throwing the victim’s head at the maiden’s feet, he blamed her for the crime she had led him to commit. To his surprise, she smiled on him, and said to him that at last he had brought her a worthy gift, and she was ready to marry him.

It is sometimes stated that, according to ancient custom, no Dyak could marry without having first procured a human head as a token of his valour. This is not true. It was only in cases of the great men—their Chiefs—that such a thing was necessary. A little consideration will show how impossible it was for every man who married to be the owner of the head of some human victim.

There were certain ancient customs which necessitated the possession of a human head. When any person died the relatives went into mourning. They put away their ornaments and finery, which were tied together in bundles. At the feast in honour of the dead—Begawai Antu—these were all undone, and the women and men put on their finery again. Some man cut the string with which they were tied up. Before he could do such a thing, it used to be necessary that a human head be brought into the house, and it was usual for the man who had obtained that head to take a leading part in the ceremonies and cut open the bundles.

Again, it was customary in some tribes to bring home a head as an offering to the spirits when a new village was to be built.

Both these customs are no longer observed. At the feast in honour of the dead—Begawai Antu—the headman of the house generally cuts open the bundles of finery that have been put away, and at the building of a new house the killing of a pig is supposed to be sufficient to satisfy the demands of the spirits.

It is presumed that a man who has secured a human head must necessarily be brave. But this need not be the case at all, for, as has been said, the head of a woman or child will serve the purpose. And these heads need not be obtained in open warfare. Very often the head of an enemy is taken while he is asleep. Nor is it necessary that a man should kill his victim with his own hand. Frequently many of his friends assist him in killing some unfortunate man whom they have waylaid, and then he comes home with the head, and poses as a hero!

It was customary in the old days to announce an expedition that one tribe intended to take against another at one of their feasts, when the village was thronged with guests from far and near. Some great Chief would advance his reason for the intended attack. Either some of his people had been slain, and revenge was called for, or else they wished to put off their mourning, and for that required a human head taken in war. Perhaps the reason was that they intended to build a new village house, and so required some human heads to use as offerings to the spirit of the land; or possibly he himself wished to marry, and wanted a head as a proof of his valour in the eyes of his lady-love. Among the crowd who listened to him there were sure to be many who were willing to follow him on the war-path. The women would help him by urging their husbands, or lovers, or brothers, to go. Out of the crowd of eager followers the Chief would choose a certain number to form a Council of War. These would discuss the whole matter, and it would be decided when the party was to start for the enemy’s country. Details would also be discussed—how much food each man was to take with him, by what route they were to go. The time of the year generally chosen would be just after the planting season, because that would give the men a clear three months before the harvest. The weeding of the paddy-fields between the planting season and the harvest is work that is usually done by the women.

The next thing to do would be to send the War Spear round to the neighbouring villages, to let all know when the expedition was to take place, and where it was to start from. A man would bring this spear to a long Dyak house, deliver his message, and return, leaving the spear to be carried on by one of the men in that house to the next village, and so on. At once the men in the house would get their war-boats ready. They would begin making figure-heads for the bows of their boats, and paint the side planks in various patterns. They would furbish up their arms, and sharpen their weapons, and decorate their helmets and war-jackets. The Dyaks generally wear their best when going out to fight. I asked a Dyak once why this was done, because, as I pointed out to him, most of the finery they put on interfered with the free action of their limbs. His answer was that if they were well dressed, in case of their death, the enemy who saw the bodies would know that they were not slaves, but free men of some standing.

In the present day, under the rule of Rajah Brooke, no Sea Dyaks may go out on a fighting expedition unless called out for that purpose by the Government. I remember not long ago that there were some rebels in the upper reaches of the Batang Lupar River, who had been guilty of many murders, and would not submit to the Government. After trying milder measures without any effect, it was decided to take a force into their country, and the Government sent round the War Spear to let the people of the different villages know they were to be ready to go on expedition at a certain date. I happened to be in a Dyak village in the Krian. It was evening, and I was seated on a mat in the open veranda of the house, and round me were seated a crowd of men and women, whom I was trying to teach. A man arrived at the house with a spear decorated with red cloth. At first no one noticed him. He spoke to a man near the top of the ladder of the house. The man came up to the middle of the house, where I was seated, and said something which I did not quite catch. At once the whole crowd got up and left me. They listened eagerly to what the man who brought the spear had to say. I was not left long in doubt of what it all meant. The message the man brought was short and to the point: “You are to be ready with your war-boats, and be at Simanggang at the next full moon. There is to be an expedition up the river.”

It is difficult for me to describe the change that came over the crowd. The headman of the house at once asked a youth to carry on the spear to the next house with the same message. The men at once discussed the question of war-boats, and it was decided there and then that they should begin making a new war-boat the next day. The women were just as excited about the expedition as the men, and there was a general turning out of war-caps and war-jackets which had long been put away.

The costume a Dyak wears when going on the war-path consists of a basket-work cap decorated with feathers and sometimes with human hair, a sleeveless skin jacket, or in place of it a sleeveless quilted cotton jacket, and the usual Dyak costume of the waist-cloth (sirat). For weapons they have a sword, or duku. This may be of foreign or of their own make. It is a dangerous weapon at close quarters, and is what they use to cut off the head of a fallen enemy. They also have a spear, consisting of a long wooden shaft of some hard wood with a steel spear-head, which is tied on to the shaft with rattan. Sometimes the shaft of the spear is the sumpit, or blow-pipe. For defensive purposes the Dyak has a large wooden shield about three feet long, which, with its handle, is hollowed out of a single block of wood. It is held in the left hand well advanced before the body, and meant not so much to receive the spear-point as to divert it by a twist of the hand. It is often painted in bright colours, with some elaborate design or fantastic pattern, and often decorated with human hair.

The sumpit, or blowpipe, is a long wooden tube about eight feet long. The smoothness and straightness of the bore is remarkable. The hole is drilled with an iron rod, one end of which is chisel-pointed, through a log of hard wood, which is afterwards pared down, and rounded till it is about an inch in diameter.

The dart used with the sumpit is usually made of a thin splinter of the wood of the nibong palm, stuck into a round piece of very light wood, so as to afford a surface for the breath to act upon. These darts are sharpened to a fine point, and are carried in neatly carved bamboo quivers.

The poison that is used for these darts is obtained from the epoh tree (upas). Incisions are made in the tree, and the gutta which exudes is collected and cooked over a slow fire on a leaf until it assumes the consistency of soft wax. It is a potent and deadly poison. Some Dyaks say that the most deadly poison is made of a mixture of the gum from the epoh tree and that from some creeper.

A dart is put in at one end, and the sumpit is lifted to the mouth, and with the breath the dart is driven out. Up to twenty-five yards they shoot with accuracy, but though the darts can be sent fifty yards or more, at any distance greater than twenty-five yards their aim is uncertain.

Before starting on a war expedition, the Dyaks consult the omen birds. The headman of the village, with the help of a few chosen friends, builds a little hut at a convenient distance from the Dyak house, and stays there, listening to the voices of the birds. If the first omens he hears are unfavourable, he continues living there until he hears some bird of good omen. When this happens, the men get ready their war-boats and start for the appointed meeting-place.

The war-boat is generally made in the same way as the Dyak dug-outs in ordinary use, out of the trunk of one large tree, only it is very much larger and longer, and able to hold sixty men or more. They paint this boat with a pattern of red and white—the red is an ochre and the white is lime. It is propelled with paddles, and the steering is done with one or two greatly developed fixed paddles, which the steersman works with his foot if he happens to be standing up.

Sometimes the war-boat is built of planks in the following manner. First they make a long lunas, or keel plank, of hard wood the whole length of the boat. This has two ledges on each side on its upper surface, each about an inch from the edge of the keel. Then several planks are made, all of which are also the entire length of the boat. Each plank has an inside ledge on its upper edge, its lower edge being quite plain. When the Dyaks have made as many planks as are necessary, they put them together in the following manner. The keel plank is put in position, then the first side-planks are brought and placed with their lower or plain edges upon the two ledges of the keel planks. The ledge of the first side-plank receives in turn the next plank, and so on, till they have enough planks, generally four or five, on each side. The ledges and the planks next to them are bored, and firm rattan lashings are passed from one to the other. The seams are caulked up so as to render the boat watertight. In the construction of a boat of this kind no nails or bolts are employed—nothing but planks ingeniously fastened together with cane or rattan. These lashings are not very durable, as the rattans soon get rotten. But this is of little consequence, as the boat is only used for war expeditions, and on her return the lashings are cut, and the separated planks are stored in the Dyak house. When she is again required, the planks are got out and the boat reconstructed as before.

This kind of war-boat is not often seen nowadays. It is clumsy, and does not travel very fast. In the whole of my experience I have only seen one boat of this kind in course of construction.

Dyak war-boats hold from thirty to a hundred men. When filled with dusky warriors with naked arms and legs just visible beneath the palm-leaf awning, paddling with a regular, vigorous stroke, with their Chief standing in the stem working the rudder with hand or foot, they form a grand sight.

When all the boats have arrived, a start is made for the enemy’s country. The line of advance is most irregular. There are wide gaps between the boats, some lagging behind to cook or fish, and others, deterred by bad dreams or unpropitious omens, waiting a day or two before moving on.

When the landing-place of the enemy is reached, a camp is formed, and temporary huts are built lining the river bank. The warriors lie down to rest side by side. Their spears are stuck in the ground near them, and their shields and swords are by their side, so that they can spring to their feet in a moment, ready for battle. The boats are hauled ashore and hidden in the brushwood, to be used again on the return journey.

A War Council is held and the route decided upon, and the best way to attack the enemy discussed. On a given day the march commences, each shouldering his pack containing a cooking-pot, rice, etc. The pace is more or less rapid as long as they are far from the enemy, but slackens when they come nearer. The leaders proceed warily, as the enemy may be in ambush by the way.

The Dyaks who are expecting an attack defend their houses with a strong palisading of hard wood, strengthened by bamboo stakes fixed between the perpendicular posts, with the sharpened points projecting in all directions, presenting an impassable barrier of spikes to the invader. The whole is tied firmly together with rattan or creepers. This fence is about six feet high, and surrounds the whole village. Two gates are made in it, but when these are closed, they present the same appearance as the rest of the palisading.

The landing-places and approach to the village are all protected with sharpened spikes of bamboo or hard wood. Their valuables—their jars and brass gongs, etc.—they conceal in the jungle.

If they feel confident that they are able to repel the attack of the enemy they keep the women and children at home. If there is any doubt about the matter, they too are hidden away in the forest, and when resistance becomes hopeless, they are rejoined by their relatives at some fixed rendezvous.

The moment the enemy appears, the gongs are struck in a peculiar manner, three strokes following each other very rapidly, a short pause, and then three strokes again, and so on. When the neighbours hear this, they recognize the signal, and know that their friends have been attacked, and they hurry to their help.