Kadum and the men of Tamparuli, together with the overseer and most of our followers, started on their journey, while we amused ourselves in collecting vocabularies, and trying to make ourselves understood by the people. They showed a great readiness to assist us, particularly the girls, who made us repeat sentences after them, and then burst into loud laughter either at our pronunciation or the comical things they had made us utter.

All the lads of the village were rejoiced at our arrival, as we purchased the plants they brought in, particularly those with variegated leaves, and they thus obtained brass wire and cloth. One evening, a man, who had been visiting another village of this tribe, produced from his basket specimens of two new kinds of nepenthes, or pitcher-plants, which were wondrous to behold, so we determined to make a visit to the spot where he found them.

As the man assured us it would be a very long walk, we provided ourselves with blankets, to enable us to sleep out a night, if necessary. We passed over a hill at the back of the village, which, where the path crosses it, is about five hundred feet above the houses, and is a continuation of a spur of Kina Balu. We then descended into a ravine, and, crossing over a sub-spur, had a fine view of a valley about three miles broad. A stream ran on either side of it, and between was a fine space almost flat, at the lower end of which was the village of Pinokok. Having descended and crossed two streams called Haya Haya, which soon joined, however, into one to form the Pinokok, we traversed the plain, and rested on the banks of the Dahombang, or Hobang Stream, to breakfast on sweet potatoes and sardines, the worst things that can be imagined for a morning meal. Crossing the Hobang, a steep climb led us to the western spur, along which our path lay; here, at about 4,000 feet, Mr. Low found a beautiful white and spotted pitcher-plant, which he considered the prettiest of the twenty-two species of nepenthes with which he was then acquainted; the pitchers are white and covered in the most beautiful manner with spots of an irregular form, of a rosy pink colour. On each leaf is a row of very soft downy hairs running along its edge, and a similar brown pubescence grows on the cups. It is a climbing plant, and varies from fifteen to twenty feet in length. Its leaves are about nine inches long in the blade, and have winged petioles which are carried down the stem to the next leaf below, each of which bears a pitcher on a prolonged petiole about fifteen inches in length.

We continued our walk along the ridge until we had reached an elevation of 4,500 feet, when the path descended to the pleasant stream, or rather torrent, of Kina Taki, in which greenstone was the principal rock. All the rivulets we have passed to-day fall into the Dahombang, which continues its course until, winding round the bluff point of Labang Labang, it joins the Tampasuk. Another steep climb of 800 feet brought us to the Marei Parei spur, to the spot where the ground was covered with the magnificent pitcher-plants, of which we had come in search. This one has been called the Nepenthes Rajah, and is a plant about four feet in length, with broad leaves stretching on every side, having the great pitchers resting on the ground in a circle about it. Its shape and size are remarkable. I will give the measurement of a small one, to indicate the form: the length along the back was nearly fourteen inches; from the base to the top of the column in front was five inches; and its lid was a foot long by fourteen inches broad, and of an oval shape. Its mouth was surrounded by a plaited pile, which near the column was two inches broad, lessening in its narrowest part to three-quarters of an inch. The plaited pile of the mouth was also undulating in broad waves. Near the stem the pitcher is four inches deep, so that the mouth is situated upon it in a triangular manner. The colour of an old pitcher was a deep purple, but that of the others is generally mauve outside, very dark indeed in the lower part, though lighter towards the rim; the inside is of the same colour, but has a kind of glazed and shiny appearance. The lid is mauve in the centre, shading to green at the edges. The stems of the female flowers we found always a foot shorter than those of the male, and the former were far less numerous than the latter. It is indeed one of the most astonishing productions of nature.

Mr. Low set to work enthusiastically to collect specimens, while I tried to procure some compass bearings; but the mist kept driving over the country, so that I had only one good opportunity. I rested the compass on a rock, and was surprised by its pointing in a very different direction from what the position of the sun showed it should. On raising it in my hands, it pointed correctly. I found, on examination, that the rock was covered with a thick coating of iron, and all in the neighbourhood were in a similar state. To-day we reached an elevation of 5,400 feet. The path we followed was tolerably good; we were told that it led to the village of Sayap, a branch of the Kiau tribe.

The sandstone near the mountain is almost perpendicular, being at an angle of 80°: lower down the sides it lessens. It appears as if the molten granite had been forced up through the sandstone. Along the sides of the spurs were huge boulders of granite, left, doubtless, by the streams ere they cut their way deeper in the earth. Mr. Low having finished collecting, we returned, and during the walk were continually regaled with the rich perfume of the flowers of the magnolia, but could not find one of them, though the plant was a common shrub. After a tiring descent, we reached the plain about five, and made preparations to pass the night at a hut belonging to Li Moung, in the valley of Pinokok.

We never had a finer view of Kina Balu than this evening. A white cloud in the form of a turban, its edges richly fringed with gold, encompassed most of the highest peaks, while the brightness of the setting sun rendered every other portion of the mountain distinctly visible, except those dark valleys cut deep in its sides, where the Dahombang and the Pinokok have their rise; and even here a succession of cascades reflected back the sun’s rays from the shadowy gloom.

We were standing opposite its western face, and having no high buttress between us and the mountain, we could observe the great precipice, which is here nearly perpendicular from the sloping summit down to an elevation of about 5,000 feet. As we stood there admiring the extreme beauty of the scene, a double rainbow began to appear, and apparently arching over the mountain, formed, as it were, a bright framework to the picture. We stayed there until the sun setting beyond the distant hills threw the valley into shade, but left its brightness on the craggy peaks above. Gradually the wind rose and drove the clouds over the heavens, and the form of the mountain and the brilliant rainbows vanished.

The land in this valley is of the richest description—far superior, Mr. Low thought, to that used in Ceylon for coffee plantations. The hut where we stayed the night was 3,000 feet above the level of the sea, and the hills around about 4,000 feet.

Next morning we returned to the houses by the same path, and rested on the summit of the hill overlooking the village. Here we sat for some time, making inquiries about the great lake. They speak of it as undoubtedly existing, saying we could reach it in three days. One who had traded with the villages on its banks asserted that standing on the beach, he could not see the opposite side. The first village on the road is Tuhan, and the next Inserban: they all call the lake Ranau, a corruption of the Malay Danau. We could scarcely make any connected inquiries, on account of the indifference or stupidity of our interpreter; but seriously discussed the possibility of our being able to combine the two journeys, but found our means insufficient. With our party we should have taken a long time, particularly as the villagers refused to furnish us with guides until their rice-planting was over.

We noticed the great change that had taken place in the ways and tastes of these people. When Mr. Low was here in 1851, beads and brass wire were very much sought after. When we came last April, the people cared nothing for beads, and very little for cloth; their hearts were set on brass wire. We, however, distributed a good deal of cloth, at reasonable rates, in exchange for food and services rendered. We now found that even brass wire, except of a very large size, was despised, and cloth eagerly desired. Chawats were decreasing, and trousers coming in. This is a taste very likely to continue, as the weather at Kiau is generally very cool, and it might also stimulate their industry. At present, although they keep their plantations very clean, they use no instrument to turn up the soil, merely putting the seed in a hole made by a pointed stick. In size, their kiladis, sweet potatoes, and rice are very inferior and their crops scanty, though the flavour of their productions is excellent, but with their tobacco they appear to take much pains. Thinking that potatoes might flourish here, Mr. Low, in 1856, sent some by Mr. Lobb to be given to the villagers to plant; next morning, however, he found the little boys playing marbles with them.

Even the more civilized Javanese cared little for the seeds of European vegetables which were distributed freely by the Dutch Government. It at last struck some shrewd officer that if the natives saw the results of cultivating these vegetables, they might be induced to turn their attention to them. He therefore obtained permission to establish a model garden, and the result was satisfactory. The Javanese, who had despised the seeds, could not overlook the profit to be derived from the sale of the crops of potatoes, cabbages, and other esculents, displayed for their imitation, and were then grateful for seeds. Nothing but some such scheme will ever induce the Dayaks to alter their present slovenly system of cultivation.

Among those who accompanied us to Marei Parei was a young lad, who was paid for his services in gray shirting and thin brass wire. As soon as he had received them, he cut off three inches of the wire, and began beating out one end and sharpening the other: it was to make a needle. His sister brought him some native-made thread; then with his knife he cut the cloth into a proper shape, and set to work to make a pair of trousers; nor did he cease his occupation till they were finished, and by evening he was wearing them.

We were so pleased with our visit to the Marei Parei spur that we determined to move thither for a few days with our servants, and live in tents. In the meantime we continued our collection of Kiau words, which was difficult work with our interpreters.

It has been thought that the tribes living around Kina Balu speak different languages, but we found, on the contrary, that the Ida’an, Dusun, and even the Bisaya, can converse freely with each other. We had with us, during our different expeditions, Bisayas from the river Kalias, opposite Labuan, an interpreter who had learnt the language from the people in the interior of Membakut, Malays who had learnt it at Kimanis, Dusuns from Tamparuli, on the Tawaran, and Ida’an from the plains of Tampasuk; and yet, after a few days, to become accustomed to the differences of dialect, all these men conversed freely with the Kiaus. If they are asked whether they speak the same languages, they will answer, “No,” and give as an example—“We say iso, when the Kiaus say eiso, for ‘no’;” but these are only localisms. I must add, that none of these people had ever visited the Kiaus until they accompanied us.

In making vocabularies here we found the villagers very careless of their pronunciation: for instance, the word “heavy” was at different times written down, magat, bagat, wagat, and ogat; for “rice,” wagas and ogas; for “to bathe,” padshu, padsiu, and madsiu, and indifferently pronounced in these various ways by the same people. Many years previously, when I was at Maludu Bay, I collected a few words of the Ida’an, and they were essentially the same as those of the aborigines of Tampasuk; and the Malays tell me that the Ida’an of the north-eastern coast speak so as to be understood by them, who have acquired their knowledge on the western coast. I may here observe that the same people are indifferently called Dusun and Ida’an. The term Dusun, the real meaning of which is villager, is applied to these northern inhabitants of Borneo by the Malays, while the Bajus generally call them Ida’an.

While we were making preparations for our short visit to Marei Parei, we noticed some agitation among the Kiaus, and found it arose from a report that a large party of Europeans had arrived at Bawang, on the Tawaran, on their way to the mountain, and it was added, heavy guns had been heard at sea. We could not, of course, offer any explanation, but thought there was very little likelihood of any one coming to join us, and suggested, what proved to be the truth, that the news of our own arrival at Bawang had been reaching them by a circuitous route. We treated the report with so much indifference as to satisfy their suspicious minds.

The next morning, the men who had agreed to carry our bedding refused to fulfil their contract unless paid double wages; so we started with our own servants, but were quickly followed by the Ida’an, who eagerly shouldered the heaviest burdens. They were only trying how far they could succeed in imposing on us. The Fop also took a load. That name was affixed to him, on our first visit, from his great attention to dress, and the favour shown him by all the young girls, more due to his evident good-nature than to his good looks; he was, however, an active, powerful man. When we were here in April, he had just married a fine girl, named Sugan, and used always, when the crowd surrounded us, to be seen standing behind her with his arms folded round her neck. He was better mannered than any of his neighbours, and never annoyed us by begging. He it was who told us he had been to the lake, and followed the route through Tuhan, Inserban and Barbar. His name is Kamá. I mention him, as he might prove useful as a guide to the lake, should any traveller be induced to try that journey.

We followed the same path we used on the former occasion—across the Pinokok valley, and up the buttress, till we reached Marei Parei, and encamped on a rocky, dry spot near the place where the Nepenthes Rajah were found in the greatest abundance.

Knowing that the cold would be severely felt by our followers, accustomed all their lives to the heat of the plains, we tried to induce them to take precautions, but without avail. We, however, took care of ourselves by cutting enough brushwood to raise our bedding a foot above the damp ground, to fill up the end of our tent and cover it over with bushes, grass, and reeds, to prevent the cold piercing through. Around us were thickets of magnolias, but without flowers, and among the other shrubs which grew near was one which we selected for our beds, as when bruised it emitted a myrtle-like fragrance.

The temperature was very pleasant in the afternoon, being 75° in the shade; but this was partly caused by the refraction from the rocky soil around. In the water the thermometer marked 66·5°, but at sunset it fell to 60° in our tent, and the men, too late, began to repent of their idleness.

The vegetation around is very stunted, though above the trees are large-sized: the former is due to the stony nature of the soil and the great amount of iron that renders all compass bearings untrustworthy. It is, I believe, decomposed serpentine, containing a large quantity of peroxide of iron. Above the vegetation the mountain presents nothing but rough precipices impossible to ascend. On their face we observed broad white patches and white lines running across, similar to those I observed on the summit during my former ascent. On the top of the north-west peak we noticed a heap of stones, which, through a good telescope, looked like a cairn, and we were full of conjectures as to the possibility of a traveller in ancient times having made the ascent. This apparent cairn was afterwards explained by similar heaps of granite piled up as if by man, but being simply the harder portions of the rock remaining when the rest had crumbled away.

At sunrise the thermometer marked 55°, and the air felt very chilly; so, after a cup of chocolate to warm our blood, we started to explore the slopes above us.

Dr. Hooker having kindly allowed me to make use of his descriptions of the wonderful pitcher-plants discovered during these expeditions, I shall avail myself of the permission, and introduce here his notes on the Bornean species of Nepenthes, as well as the botanical account of the ones found on the Marei Parei spur.

The largest was the Nepenthes Rajah. The plates, copied from those published in the Linnean Transactions, merely give the form, as it has been found necessary to reduce them to the size of the volume.

“The want of any important characters in the flowers and fruit of Nepenthes is a very remarkable feature of these plants. The leaves differ considerably in insertion, and in being more or less petioled. The pitchers of most, when young, are shorter, and provided with two ciliated wings in front; more mature plants bear longer pitchers, with the wings reduced to thickened lines. The glandular portion of the pitcher remains more constant than any other, and the difference between the form of old and young pitchers is often chiefly confined to the further development of the superior glandular portion into a neck or tube.”[17]

“Ascidia magna, ore mediocri, annulo latissime explanato, dense lamellato v. costato.

“Nepenthes Rajah, H. f. (Frutex, 4-pedalis, Low). Foliis maximis 2-pedalibus, oblongo-lanceolatis petiolo costaque crassissimis, ascidiis giganteis (cum operculo 1-2-pedalibus) ampullaceis ore contracto, stipite folio peltatim affixo, annulo maximo lato everso crebre lamellato, operculo amplissimo ovato-cordato, ascidium totum æquante.—(Tab. LXXII).

“Hab.—Borneo, north coast, on Kina Balu, alt. 5,000 feet (Low). This wonderful plant is certainly one of the most striking vegetable productions hitherto discovered, and, in this respect, is worthy of taking place side by side with the Rafflesia Arnoldii. It hence bears the title of my friend Rajah Brooke, of whose services, in its native place, it may be commemorative among botanists.... I have only two specimens of leaves and pitchers, both quite similar, but one twice as large as the other. Of these, the leaf of the larger is 18 inches long, exclusive of the petioles, which is as thick as the thumb and 7–8 broad, very coriaceous and glabrous, with indistinct nerves. The stipes of the pitcher is given off below the apex of the leaf, is 20 inches long, and as thick as the finger. The broad ampullaceous pitcher is 6 inches in diameter, and 12 long: it has two fimbriated wings in front, is covered with long rusty hairs above, is wholly studded with glands within, and the broad annulus is everted, and 1–1½ inch in diameter. Operculum shortly stipitate, 10 inches long and 8 broad.

“The inflorescence is hardly in proportion. Male raceme, 30 inches long, of which 20 are occupied by the flowers; upper part and flowers clothed with short rusty pubescence. Peduncles slender, simple or bifid. Fruiting raceme stout. Peduncles 1½ inches long, often bifid. Capsule, ¾ inch long, ⅓ broad, rather turgid, densely covered with rusty tomentum.”[18]

The pitchers, as I have before observed, rest on the ground in a circle, and the young plants have cups of the same form as those of the old ones. This morning, while the men were cooking their rice, as we sat before the tent enjoying our chocolate, observing one of our followers carrying water in a splendid specimen of the Nepenthes Rajah, we desired him to bring it to us, and found that it held exactly four pint bottles. It was 19 inches in circumference. We afterwards saw others apparently much larger, and Mr. Low, while wandering in search of flowers, came upon one in which was a drowned rat.

As we ascended, we left the brushwood and entered a tangled jungle, but few of the trees were large, and the spur of the mountain became very narrow, sometimes not much wider than the path, and greatly encumbered at one part by the twining stems of the Nepenthes Edwardsiana. This handsome plant was not, however, much diffused along the spur, but confined to a space about a quarter of a mile in length, and grew upon the trees around, with its fine pitchers hanging from all the lower boughs. We measured one plant and it was twenty feet in length; it was quite smooth, and the leaves were of a very acute shape at both ends. It is a long, cylindrical, finely-frilled pitcher, growing on every leaf; one we picked measured twenty-one inches and a half long, by two and a half in breadth. They swelled out a little towards the base, which is bright pea green, the rest of the cylinder being of a bright brick-red colour. Its mouth is nearly circular, the column with the border surrounding the mouth being finely formed of thin plates about a sixth of an inch apart, and about the same in height, and both were of a flesh colour; the handsome lid is of a circular shape. The dried specimen forwarded to Dr. Hooker only measured eighteen inches. The plant is epiphytal, growing on casuarinas (species nova). The pitchers of the young creepers precisely resembled those of the older ones, except in size.

Whilst examining these, and vainly searching for their flowers, Mr. Low came upon a small species of a bright crimson colour; its pitchers were three inches long, and one and a half broad at the widest part, and the mouth was oblique. Another, but which may be the same in a more mature state, was green, with irregular spots of purple, having stems of the latter colour; it was a low plant, not reaching above four feet in height.

A very handsome plant of a trailing habit also grew on this spur; it had large bunches of beautiful flowers of the colour of the brightest of the seedling scarlet geraniums, and while endeavouring to obtain a view to the eastward, my eye fell upon something of a beautiful white, which proved to be a lovely orchid. Of these Mr. Low made a great collection; I fear, however, it is not a new one.

The following is the botanical description of the Nepenthes Edwardsiana:—

“Ascidia magna, ore lamellis latis disciformibus annularibus remotis instructo.

“Nepenthes Edwardsiana, Low. MSS.—Foliis (6″ longis) crasse coriaceis longe petiolatis ellipticis, ascidiis magnis crasse pedunculatis cylindraceis basi ventricosis 8–18″ longis, ore lamellis annularibus distantibus rigidis magnis cristato, collo elongato erecto, operculo cordato-rotundato, racemo simplici, rachi pedicellisque ferrugineo-tomentosis. (Tab. LXX.)

“Hab.—Kina Balu, north side; alt, 6,000–8,000 feet (Low).

“The leaves, ascidia, and pitchers sent by Mr. Low are all old, and nearly glabrous; but the young parts—rachis, peduncles of the panicle, and the calyx—are covered with ferruginous tomentum. One of the pitchers sent is eighteen inches long from the base to the apex of the erect operculum; it is two and a half inches in diameter below the mouth, one and a half at the narrowest part (about one-third distant from the base), and the swollen part above the base is about two inches in diameter. The beautiful annular discs which surround the mouth are three-quarters of an inch in diameter.”[19]

We had occasionally very extensive prospects, and the day being bright and sunny, could obtain almost an uninterrupted view of the whole coast from Kimanis to Tampasuk, with glimpses of the river reaches below, winding among the hills, and flowing through the open plains of Tampasuk, Sulaman, and Tawaran, and beneath our feet were the sources of the Peñgantaran, which we crossed on our last expedition. The only interruption was, in fact, the double peaks of Saduk Saduk, which is about 6,000 feet high; and as we only ascended 6,200 feet, we were but beginning to see over them. One side of that mountain is almost cleared to its summit for rice plantations, though the produce could not be very repaying. Mr. Lobb reached its top, but had, I believe, no instruments to fix its height. From the north the two peaks are in a line, it then appears a sharp hill; and I should judge from its aspect that it is sandstone to the summit.

We carefully examined the noble buttress on which we were encamped, and were convinced that if ever the north of Borneo fall into the hands of a European power, no spot could be better suited for barracks than Marei Parei. The climate is delightful: at sunrise the average was 56°; midday, 75°; sunset, 63°; and this temperature would keep European soldiers in good health: there is water at hand, and up the western spur a road could be easily made suited to cattle and horses; in fact, buffaloes are now occasionally driven from Labang Labang to Sayap.

The second day our men were more amenable to advice, and made great preparations to resist the cold, as the wind was rising and rain threatening; but after a heavy shower, it cleared off, and we passed a very pleasant night. We found the most sustaining and warming nourishment on the mountains, was to boil or stew a couple of fowls, with a two-pound tin of preserved soup. As we scarcely ever rested much during the day our appetites were keen, and we retired to our beds very shortly after seven to enjoy an almost uninterrupted sleep from eight till daylight.

Having finished collecting the plants of this spur, we returned to Kiau, and noticed during our walk that the sources of the Hobang and Pinokok cut very deep valleys into the actual mountain, and after the heavy rain last night, foaming cascades were visible in these as yet unlit valleys, for the morning sun had not risen above the mountain tops.

The villagers appeared to be very glad to get us back among them, and the girls became friendly and familiar; they even approached us and sat at the end of our mats, and talked, and laughed, and addressed us little speeches, which were, of course, nearly unintelligible, though we were making progress in the language. They had evidently been very much interested in all our movements; and as our toilettes were made in public, they could observe that every morning we bathed, cleaned our teeth, brushed and combed our hair, and went through our other ordinary occupations.

To-day they had grown more bold, and were evidently making fun of the scrupulous care we were bestowing on our persons while the cook was preparing our breakfast. We thought that we would good-humouredly turn the laugh against them, so we selected one who had the dirtiest face among them—and it was difficult to select where all were dirty—and asked her to glance at herself in the looking-glass. She did so, and then passed it round to the others; we then asked them which they thought looked best, cleanliness or dirt: this was received with a universal giggle.

We had brought with us several dozen cheap looking-glasses, so we told Iseiom, the daughter of Li Moung, our host, that if she would go and wash her face we would give her one. She treated the offer with scorn, tossed her head, and went into her father’s room. But, about half an hour afterwards, we saw her come in to the house and try to mix quietly with the crowd; but it was of no use, her companions soon noticed she had a clean face, and pushed her into the front to be inspected. She blushingly received her looking-glass and ran away, amid the laughter of the crowd of girls. The example had a great effect, however, and before evening the following girls had received a looking-glass. I mention their names as specimens:—Ikara, Beiom, Sugan, Rambeiong, Iduñgat, Tirandam, Idoñg, Sei, and Sinéo. Among the males near were Kadsio, the trouser-maker, Bintarang, Lakaman, and Banul, who had lent his kitchen to us.

We spent a couple of days quietly at the village, waiting the arrival of our party: reports often reached us that they were not far off, and at last they came in, but sadly reduced in numbers. Seven had deserted, while one had stayed behind to look after his companion Sahat, who had been stricken with cholera while passing through Si Nilau. However, they brought sufficient rice to last us during the ascent of the mountain, as well as a few condiments for ourselves. We heard, also, to our satisfaction that the chief of Gantisan had seized Kamis the negro, and had confined him for theft and desertion.

All our preparations being completed, we started for our expedition to the summit of the mountain, following a path along the side of the valley, which ran below the houses, and was crossed by miniature torrents at various places. The ground was all under cultivation, principally tobacco and kiladis. Being in admirable walking condition from our regular exercise, we soon passed the hut where Mr. Low had rested during my former ascent, and crossing the stream, found ourselves in freshly-cleared ground, where crowds of women and children were planting rice. The ashes from the burning of the trees and brushwood must assist greatly to fertilize the soil, otherwise we could scarcely conceive that seed placed in a little hole driven in the hard-baked ground could produce a crop. It was a burning-hot day, and our men appeared to suffer severely in passing along this unsheltered path, so it was a relief to enter the forest.

We advanced by the same way I followed on the previous occasion; it was steep, and but rarely traversed, except by the rat snarers. The farther we advanced, the more numerous were the traps, but during our ascent none were caught. In fact, these wary animals are seldom taken, except when trying to escape from the active village curs. We heard the shouts of the hunters below, and the bark of the dogs, but we had passed on before they reached the path. The mountain-rat seems a favourite article of food among the Kiaus, though they do not eat those which frequent the houses. The edible animal is about the size of the grey Norway rat, and is of the Bandacoot species.

At 4,400 feet elevation we pitched our tents; and here Li Moung and Li Maing, who had accompanied us so far, handed us over to the younger men, headed by Kamá, and returned home. We hired both these leaders, as we were unwilling to be the cause of a feud arising in the tribe, and by following this course we kept friends with both parties.

We started early next morning, and after three hours climbing of the sub-spurs, which were occasionally very steep, we reached the ridge of the great buttress, and the walking became easier. We passed to-day the hut that I had constructed on the former occasion. As I have before observed, this ridge is occasionally very narrow, and where it has been exposed to the full force of the monsoons, the trees bent over us, so as often to necessitate our crawling beneath their overhanging trunks; for those who carried burdens it was tiresome work, particularly as the ground and trees were covered with soppy moss, cold and unpleasant to the touch. Where we did not crawl, we had often to advance in a stooping posture. Occasionally we passed between fine forest trees, with thickly-growing bamboo beneath them, but these were only to be found in deep or sheltered spots. When we joined the first ridge, we came upon numerous flowers of a rhododendron scattered over the surface of the ground, and it was some time before we could find the plant, but Mr. Low’s quick eye at last discovered it. It looked gorgeous, being completely covered with bunches of flowers of a brilliant scarlet, and in masses of colour, as forty-two blossoms were counted growing in one of the bunches.

We at last reached a narrow, rocky ridge, covered with brushwood, but with thousands of plants of the beautiful Nepenthes Lowii growing among them. As water was to be had near, at a little marshy spot, we determined to pitch our tents here, and spend the evening collecting specimens. Our guides, however, strongly objected to this, and declared we must reach the cave to-night; but as this involved a climb of nearly 3,000 feet more, we declined, disregarding their threats that they would leave us where we were and return to their houses. Our coast men appeared totally unfit for such an exertion, though the cold weather had an invigorating effect upon ourselves.

There was another great objection to this rapid ascent: it prevented our seeing anything, or enjoying the views that this lovely weather promised to afford. It was true that day the scenery had been obscured by the blinding columns of smoke rising in every direction from the burning felled forest, but that objection might not hold another day. To the eastward, we had glimpses of high mountains, and of a river running through a plain.

I have seldom witnessed any of those beautiful phenomena of which I have read—as double sunsets—but that evening we witnessed one. A dark cloud hung over the horizon, and beneath it we saw a sun, clear and well-defined, set in vapour: we hurried on our preparations for the night, for fear darkness should overtake us, when the true sun, suddenly bursting from behind the concealing cloud, restored the day. I never saw men so astonished as were our followers, and we were as completely deceived as they were, though we did not give the same explanation, that we had fallen among jinn and other supernatural creatures.

We sent our men on next morning to wait for us at the cave, while we stayed behind to collect specimens of the Nepenthes Lowii and the Nepenthes Villosa. The former is, in my opinion, the most lovely of them all, and its shape is most elegant. I will give Dr. Hooker’s botanical description of both.

“Ascidia magna, curva, basi inflata, medio constricta, dein ampliata, infundibuliformia; ore maximo, latissimo, annulo O.

“Nepenthes Lowii, H. f.—Caule robusto tereti, foliis crasse coriaceis, longe crasse petiolatis lineari-oblongis, ascidiis magnis curvis basi ventricosis medio valde constrictis, ore maximo ampliato, annulo O, operculo oblongo intus dense longe setoso. (Tab. LXXI.)

“Hab.—Kina Balu; alt. 6,000–8,000 feet (Low).

“A noble species, with very remarkable pitchers, quite unlike those of any other species. They are curved, 4–10 inches long, swollen at the base, then much constricted, and suddenly dilating to a broad, wide, open mouth with glossy shelving inner walls, and a minute row of low tubercles round the circumference; they are of a bright pea green, mottled inside with purple. The leaves closely resemble those of Edwardsiana and Boschiana in size, form, and texture, but are more linear-oblong.

“I have specimens of what are sent as the male flower and fruit, but not being attached, I have not ventured to describe them as such. The male raceme is eight inches long, dense flowered. Peduncles simple. Perianth with depressed glands on the inner surface, externally rufous and pubescent. Column long and slender. Female inflorescence: a very dense oblong panicle; rachis, peduncles, perianth, and fruit covered with rusty tomentum. Capsules, two-thirds of an inch long, one-sixth of an inch broad.”[20]

The outside colour of the pitchers is a bright pea-green, the inside dark mahogany; the lid is green, while the glandular are mahogany-coloured. A very elegant claret jug might be made of this shape.

“Ascidia magna, ore lamellis latis disciformibus annularibus remotis instructo.

“Nepenthes Villosa, H. f. (Hook, Ic. Pl. t. 888).—Ascidia magna turgida late pyriformia coriacea, 5″ longa, 3½″ lata, alis anticis mediocribus grosse dentatis, ore aperto annulo maximo! lamellis annularibus distantibus disciformibus rigidis, 1″ diam., cristatis posticis in spinas rigidas ½″ longas, fundum ascidii spectantibus productis, collo elongato erecto, operculo orbiculato intus densissime glanduloso dorso basi longe cornuto. (Tab. LXIX.)

“Hab.—Borneo (Lobb), Kina Balu, alt. 8,000–9,000 feet (Low).

“... The whole inner surface of the pitcher is glandular, except a very narrow area beneath the mouth at the back.”[20]

The pitchers of the young plant resemble the old, and their colour looks like that of a downy peach skin, with a great deal of dark crimson in it. The circular annulus is like flesh-coloured wax, its lid dull green, with red shading in the centre.

The Nepenthes Villosa continued to skirt our path for the next two thousand feet; and among the most extraordinary shrubs was the heath rhododendron.

At an open space about 7,500 feet above the level of the sea, we had a fine view of the south and south-east part of Borneo, which stretches away to the great river of Kina Batañgan. Numerous mountain ranges and lofty peaks, some estimated as high as 7,000 to 8,000 feet, were clearly visible. Between us and the mountains bearing south-east by east, and apparently eighteen miles off, there was a grassy plain, perhaps three miles by two, in which were many villages; and through this there flowed a rather large river. We could trace its course as far as the third spur that springs from the main buttress of Kina Balu, on which we now stood. There, a line of hills appeared to obstruct it; but beyond we could again trace the course of a stream which may probably be its source. This river, our guide stated, fell into the lake of Kina Balu. It runs from south-west to north-east. With the exception of the plain above mentioned, and a marsh, whose commencement we could observe north-east of the plain, all the country appeared hilly. Most of the land was cleared, and either under cultivation, or showing the remains of former farms. We could observe in the second valley two villages: the first called Tuhan; the next, Inserban. At both cotton is stated to be cultivated. Many more distant villages and detached houses could be seen to the south-east, whose names our guides had forgotten.

The road to the lake is by the above-mentioned villages. The names of those beyond are Penusuk, Tambian, Paka, and Koporiñgan. These are either on the route, or close to the lake.

We sat looking at this extensive view, and enjoying the refreshing breeze and the bright sun. Kamá was in a communicative mood to-day, and we had a long talk about the great lake. We could clearly perceive that it was not in the position assigned to it in all the maps, as the whole country from east-south-east to the western coast was distinctly visible, and the Ida’an expressly stated that it was farther to the north and east of the little plain I have before noticed. Its size would, I believe, entirely depend on the season it was visited, as the heavy rains would cause it to overflow the country, and probably add the marsh and plain we saw to its extent, and the native travellers would naturally give different accounts.

We now continued our ascent to the cave by the same path I followed before, and found it quite sufficient for a day’s journey. The cave proved to be above 9,000 feet above the level of the sea; and although we tried by fires and hanging up oiled cloths before the entrance to keep out the raw night air, yet the men felt it very cold.

We started early next morning for the summit, with a clear sky and a brilliant sun, through thickets of the scarlet and rosy-purple rhododendrons which extended for nearly a thousand feet above the cave, and soon reached the granite slopes, which, by the clinometer, we found to have an angle varying from 35° to 39° at the steepest parts. Leaving Low’s Gully on the right, where the purple or rather blood-coloured rhododendron flourishes, we pushed on for the terrace lying between the southern and northern peaks.

As I spent very little of my time in looking for plants, I reached it some time before my fellow-traveller, and was surprised to find the great ease with which we could converse, although more than a quarter of a mile apart. It really required no effort, and the air appeared so transparent as to render it difficult to judge of distances. From Low’s Gully to the north-western peak does not exceed two miles; and we were struck by a remarkable feature in the granite rocks, which run in a broken line along the northern face of the summit. It appeared as if they were lying in strata, which partly accounts for the angular granite we observed in the streams below.

When I first reached the terrace the sun was shining brightly on the landscape below, and my first impulse was to turn to look for that lofty mountain of which I had obtained a glimpse during my former ascent, but the southern peak shut in that view, and I had to content myself with the still extensive prospect. Looking over the valley of Pinokok, I could distinctly trace the coast line down even to Labuan, which, though somewhat hazy, was yet visible, near the great mountains of Brayong and Si Guntang. The Bay of Kimanis was to be seen in all its distinctness, and, with Nosong Point, Pulo Tiga, and Papar Headland, looked at this distance almost land-locked. Gaya island was there visible, but the bay was shut in by its surrounding hills. Mengkabong and Sulaman waters showed clear, and I could occasionally observe some reaches of the Tawaran glistening among the fruit groves of the plain. The horizon was perhaps distant a hundred miles, showing a broad expanse of ocean. We stood looking at this prospect with great pleasure; but at last, being joined by the man who carried the barometer, I left Mr. Low to prepare the instrument, and started for the north-western peak, from which I hoped to have the most extensive view to be seen in all Borneo, and to have the satisfaction of examining that heap of stones which looked like a cairn from below.

It was easy to get to its base. On the northern side of it were heaps of broken but angular granite, which appeared to have fallen from its sides, leaving a perpendicular face, a little overhanging at the summit. The slabs of granite, which peel off its western and southern sides, roll on a sharp slope, and must glide down to fall over the great precipice overlooking the valley of Pinokok. The heaps I observed to the south move more slowly onward towards the cliff, as the incline is less.

I tried to reach the summit of this peak by a narrow edge of rock abutting from its southern front; but after following it with my face towards it, and moving sideways with my arms stretched out on either side, till it narrowed to about eight inches, I thought it prudent to return; but at a spot where I had secure footing, I pitched a stone on the summit, which was about forty feet above the highest point I reached.

I had scarcely regained the base, when I saw a thick white cloud suddenly sweep up from the north, and heavy rain and gusts of wind soon wetted us through and chilled us to the bone. I hurried along the huge natural wall which skirts the northern edge of the summit, and is the termination of the great terrace, to join Mr. Low, and then heard that last night’s rain had wet the leather of Adie’s barometer, and it would not act. We tried the boiling-water thermometers, but in this storm of wind, rain, and hail, though we managed to light the spirit-lamp, we could not read the number of degrees, the apparatus appearing defective. We waited for nearly two hours, hoping it would blow over; but it only increased in violence, and enveloped in this rain-cloud, we could not see fifty yards.

Unwillingly we now attended to the remonstrances of our shivering followers, and commenced descending. The wind veered round suddenly to the east, and drove the sleet and hail into our faces, while torrents formed in every direction, and rushed over the smooth surface of the granite. To descend was a work of danger, as the streams of water crossed our path in every direction; and had we lost our footing while passing them, we should have been sent gliding down to the precipices. It was bitterly cold, the thermometer at two P.M. falling to 43°. As we approached the steeper incline, the velocity of the running water increased, and in one place, even Kamá appeared at fault, as the granite was as slippery as glass, being reduced to a fine polish, as it formed the course down which the rains always ran; but at last finding a crevice, into which we could insert the sides of our feet, we managed to pass the momentarily swelling torrent. One of our Malays was seized with fever and ague at this most difficult part of the descent; but he behaved manfully, and managed, by his own exertions, to get down the granite slopes. My Chinese boy, Ahtan, fell, and rolled over several times, but escaped with a slight wound, but heavy bruises. One Malay’s feet slipped from under him, and he fell heavily on his back, but his head escaped, as he was carrying on his shoulders a large basket full of flowers.

During both ascents, I observed the men carefully examining the crevices of the granite in search of little pieces of very transparent quartz, which were to be found there. I picked up, during the former trip, a little of them, that were greatly prized by the ladies of the capital, who had them inserted into rings.

After three hours’ hard work, we reached the cave, in company with our invalids. The poor fever-stricken Malay looked in a woful plight, but we gave him immediately ten grains of quinine in a glass of whiskey, and by evening the fit was over. We found many of our men were injured by falls, but not seriously. Though Mr. Low made a fine collection of herbaceous and other plants, yet we were greatly disappointed with the result of our ascent, as the injury to the barometer was caused by our own carelessness.

We determined, however, to reascend to the summit next morning; but on trying the boiling-water thermometers, they did not act properly, and varied five degrees: the barometer also continued useless. We therefore gave up our intention, particularly when we found that all the Ida’an guides were making up their packets, declaring nothing should induce them to go through such exposure as they suffered yesterday, and as we found many of our men were ailing, we unwillingly, therefore, commenced our descent, collecting plants by the way, and spent the night at the hut I had erected during my first expedition.

Next day we reached the village of Kiau, and had a very different kind of settling day from the last. Lemoung was civil and obliging, and all appeared sorry at our leaving them, and begged us to return again as soon as possible, promising to take us to the lake, or wherever we might choose to go.

The girls now presented a very different appearance from before: they thronged round us, most of them with carefully-washed faces, and requested us to remember their commissions. Some wanted thread and needles, others looking-glasses and combs. As we did not intend to reascend the mountain, we, in return for the neat little baskets of tobacco with which they presented us, made a distribution among them of all our surplus warm clothing, and their delight was great; and Lemoung’s daughter took so great a fancy to my comb and brush that, though unwilling, I was obliged to part with them.

When we started next morning, crowds of friendly faces were around, and a troop of girls walked with us part of the way; and on our leaving them at the crown of the hill, they insisted upon our repeating the promise to visit them again. The good impression we made upon these villagers may be of service to future travellers. We stopped at Koung for the night, as many of our followers were ill, or suffering from falls received on that unlucky day on the summit of Kina Balu. We made the old chief’s heart glad by presenting him with one of our tents, and such goods as we could spare.

A hundred years ago, it was reported that the Ida’an were in the habit of purchasing Christian slaves of the pirates, in order to put them to death for the sake of the heads. If it were ever true, I believe it is not so now, as we never noticed dried skulls in any of their houses, except at Tamparuli; and if they had been given to any such practice, the Bajus, who never missed an opportunity to malign them, would have mentioned the subject to us.

As we were anxious to get our large collection of plants as fast as possible to the vessel, we pushed on next morning by the direct route to Buñgol and breakfasted there, and, notwithstanding heavy rain, continued our journey to Kalawat.

Next day we reached Si Nilau, to find that poor Sahat was dead of cholera, and that his companion had disappeared. We inquired about him, but could hear nothing. We asked for the rice that they had left here, but the owner of the house denied having any; though one of our guides discovered hidden away in a corner all the goods belonging to Sahat and the missing man. The thief finding himself discovered, ran into a neighbouring house and began to beat the alarm signal on a drum, and in a very short time the neighbouring villagers were seen collecting in arms; but hearing the cause of the disturbance they dispersed, saying the English might settle with the old thief as they pleased. However, on inquiry, finding our missing follower was safe, we merely warned the villager and continued our journey.

On arriving at Bawang we heard the distressing intelligence that cholera was in possession of all the villages. We met processions on the river: old women, dressed up like the priestesses among the Land Dayaks of Sarawak, were chanting and beating gongs, and on the banks of the stream were erected altars, round which gaily-dressed women were dancing with a slow, measured step.

We were surprised at the wealth displayed by the family of the old Datu of Tamparuli. There were silks, and gold brocade, and a large amount of gold ornaments. We arrived late, having walked in one day what had taken us three in our advance to the mountain.

During the night we were disturbed by the cries of some of the inmates of our house, three of whom where suffering from attacks of cholera, and the only remedy they appeared to apply was water from the sacred jars, though they endeavoured to drive away the evil spirits by beating gongs and drums all night. Three people had died the previous day, but when we left in the morning the sufferers I have before mentioned were still alive. We had no medicines, not even a glass of spirits, to give them.

Next morning we walked over to Pañgeran Sirail’s to breakfast, as our friends at Tamparuli were so much taken up with the awful visitation which had come upon them as to be unable to attend to anything else. In fact, though exceedingly hungry after our hard walking, we could not last night purchase anything for our dinner, and had to content ourselves with plain boiled rice. The Malay chief, however, was very hospitable, and soon procured us fowls, and sent off to Pañgeran Duroup for canoes to take us across the lake. On our arrival at Gantisan we found the cholera had left it, though not before it had carried off thirty-seven victims.

Signor Cuarteron came to visit us, and we kept him to dinner; but, in the evening, the south-west monsoon commenced blowing so heavily, that it was impossible for him to return to the vessel, and this was merely a commencement of what we had to expect. In the morning, however, it cleared up a little, and we landed to visit Pañgeran Madoud. He was erecting a very substantial-looking wharf, nearly a hundred yards in length, to enable people to get ashore at all times of tide, and he intended it partly to give protection to very small trading prahus during the south-west monsoon. It was a grand work for a Malay to conceive, and, although not constructed in a way likely to be very lasting, it was a good commencement. The Pañgeran had established himself in a very comfortable house, and in his audience hall had a large table and many chairs. He was very curious to hear everything connected with the great mountain, and begged, laughingly, for a single seed of the lagundi fruit, that his youth might be restored to him. We found Kamis, the negro, looking very sad in the stocks, but he got off with a very slight punishment; but, as a warning to others, we refused to receive the deserters on board, and let them return in a native prahu.

We did not attempt to sail, as heavy clouds were driving across the horizon, promising unsettled weather; and, in the afternoon, so heavy a squall arose, that our anchor could not hold, and we began drifting towards the shore. We hauled in the chain, but when it was nearly all on board, we were not ten feet from the coral reefs opposite Gantisan. With extreme difficulty, on account of the breaking waves, we got the smaller anchor into our boat, and sent it out fifty yards ahead, and hauling in that merely saved us from striking, as it came home as well as the larger one. For two hours we continued sending out one anchor after the other, but it did not keep us clear of the danger, as during one heavy puff our pinnace struck the coral, and we thought she would soon go to pieces; but this blast was followed by a momentary lull, during which we managed to haul out a hundred yards, and let go both anchors; and, veering out as much chain as we could, we felt comparatively safe. The storm broke on us again with great violence, but our anchors held.

For three days this dirty weather continued, blowing steadily from the south-west, and we had some difficulty in procuring supplies of rice for our men. In fact, the village had but little in store, as all communication with the Dusuns had been put a stop to on account of the cholera. It was, therefore, fortunate we had not delayed our expedition till August, for we certainly would have been turned back, as all the paths were now pamali or interdicted.

On the fifth day, the wind appearing to moderate, we set sail from Gantisan, intending to pass through the broad channel, between Gaya and Sapanggar Islands; but, when we opened the sea, the waves were breaking in white foam, and so heavy a swell came in that our pinnace could not beat against the wind: we, therefore, ran into a small harbour on the north of Gaya Island, and anchored in thirteen fathoms. In the evening we landed, but, finding the jungle tangled, did not penetrate far; and, leaving Mr. Low to botanize, I strolled along the beach to the rocky sandstone point.

I came there upon certain stones which appeared to me very curious. On the surface of some were marks, as if huge cups, three feet in diameter, were let into the rock and then filled up with a different kind of sandstone. One only did I see which was detached from the surrounding rock; it was round, with an edge two inches thick, raised three inches above the inner surface.

This little harbour is plentifully supplied with water, as several small rivulets fall into it from the surrounding high land. We could observe the waves breaking on the sands and rocks at the mouth of the Ananam, as the wind drove the sea through the narrow and dangerous passage between Gaya Island and the mainland. At night very heavy rain came on, and the wind moderated.

In the morning, though there was a heavy swell, the wind was moderate, and many fishing-boats were seen scattered over the surface of the bay. We hailed one, and the fishermen coming alongside with a large number for sale, we purchased all he had. Among them were several fish which frequent the coral rocks; one was small, slightly streaked with red, with very prickly fins, which the natives are careful to chop off before attempting to handle them, as, if wounded by one, the effect is as if poison had been injected into the flesh. There are also many others, whose fins are equally to be avoided.

Some of the fish brought alongside were as beautiful as those celebrated in the Arabian tale, where “the fisherman, looking into the lake, saw in it fish of different colours—white, and red, and blue, and yellow;” indeed, they could not have been more beautiful than ours. In fact, all that are caught on coral reefs are remarkable for the great variety of their colours; but I must particularly describe one which bore the palm from all its splendid companions. It was about ten inches in length, and had for the basis of its colours an emerald green, with a head of a lighter shade of the same hue, which was banded longitudinally with stripes of rosy pink, and lines of the same beautiful tint were placed at intervals of an eighth of an inch transversely across its whole body, the scales on which were very small. The two pectoral fins were rosy pink in the centre, surrounded by a broad band of ultramarine. The short dorsal and ventral fins, which were continued to the tail, were of the same colours, the pink being inside. The tail was ultramarine outside, and the centre part of the fin of gamboge yellow: it had no anal fins. There was another extremely beautiful one of a pea-green colour: it appeared to be of the same genus as the former.

The one streaked with red, with the poisonous fins, had firm flesh, and was rather pleasant to the taste; but in general their flavour and quality by no means equalled the brilliancy of their appearance. We placed the lovely emerald fish in a bucket of sea-water, but it soon turned on its back, and showed unmistakable signs of exhaustion. It seemed a sin to dine off so beautiful a creature. However, I suffered for it during the evening: I thought I was seized with cholera, and could scarcely get rid of the pains in the stomach; but Mr. Low did not feel any ill effects, so the fish may be harmless.

Next morning, there being a slight land breeze at early dawn, we stood out to sea, notwithstanding the heavy swell, as the leaves of our mountain collection were beginning to fade from their long confinement on board, though we had brought proper boxes in which to plant them. We soon got clear of the harbour; but no sooner did we begin to shape our course down the coast, and get to the leeward of Gaya Island, than the breeze failed us, and the roll of the China seas appeared to be forcing us on the rocky point not half a mile off. We manned our boat, and attempted to tow the pinnace off shore, but our efforts would have been in vain had not the ebb tide gradually swept us beyond the island, and thus restored to us the faint land breeze. Presently it died away, but we were now beyond immediate danger; and though the heavy swell continued, there were no waves. As the sun was warm and brilliant, we felt sure that in the afternoon we should have a fine sea breeze; so that we were proportionably annoyed when our head man came to tell us they had forgotten to replenish their casks at Gaya Island, and were now without water. We sent the boat away, as it was impossible to foretell how many days we might be at sea; but before they returned, heavy clouds began to show on the western horizon, threatening bad weather.

I never saw a more singular sight, as the long line of black cloud gradually gathered above the sea, leaving a clear space below it, and waterspouts began to form. I counted at one time seventeen, either perfect or commencing. I carefully watched the whole process: the cloud appears to dip a little, and the sea below is agitated and covered with foam; gradually a pillar begins to descend from on high with a gyrating motion, and a corresponding pillar rises from the sea. Sometimes they meet, and the whole object is completed; at others, they do not, and the water falls back into the ocean with great disturbance. I have watched them trying again and again to meet: sometimes the wind drives the cloud-pillar to an acute angle, and prevents the junction; at others, vain efforts, as vainly repeated, are made by sea and cloud. I have heard so many stories of danger to ships from these waterspouts that I always felt rather nervous when passing them in a very small vessel. Our boat being still away, we took advantage of the commencement of the sea breeze to run under one of the islets to the south of Gaya and anchor there. Between the larger island and the point of Api Api on the mainland I once attempted to pass, but we grounded on a coral reef; however, there is a passage, but a difficult one to those accustomed to the coast.

I am not aware who inserted the names in the Admiralty charts, but they are often ill spelt, and incorrectly placed. Loney Island, south of Gaya, is generally called Sinitahan, “Hold here,” Island, from the great protection it affords to native prahus in both monsoons; and our informants insisted that the islands marked Bantok, Baral, and Risa, should be Memanukan, Sulug, and Memutik, and that the opposite point, called Lutut, or the Knee, should be Aru. I only mention this, as some of the officers in Labuan might be requested to furnish the correct names to the Admiralty, as it is exceedingly inconvenient to voyagers along the coast to ask for places by names which are not recognized by the inhabitants. While speaking of these otherwise admirably correct charts, I would draw attention to the fact, that the position of Tanjong Baram, or Baram Point, in the last published general chart of Borneo, differs about ten miles from that given in the charts recording the surveys of Sir Edward Belcher and Commander Gordon. This requires explanation.

Our boat having joined us, we got under way, and stood towards Pulo Tiga; the weather was squally and the night proved unpleasant, with strong gusts of wind and heavy rain, but in the morning we found ourselves opposite the island for which we were steering. A light land breeze now carried us past Nosong Point, with its curious detached rocks, but left us in a calm after we were a few miles from shore.

As usual, the sea breeze sprang up in the afternoon, but it came from the south-west. As we had been awake most of the previous night, we were dozing in the afternoon, when a bustle over our heads startled us, and we went on deck to see what was the matter. We found we were among the Pine-tree Shoals, with a large water-washed rock, not marked in the charts, within fifty yards of us. To let go the anchor and take in the sail, to meet a heavy squall from the westward, was the work of a moment. A heavy squall in a dangerous position is a thing to be remembered: you see advancing upon you an enormous arch of black cloud, with a slightly white misty sky beneath, called by the Malays the wind’s eye, and when it breaks upon you with a force almost sufficient to lift you from your legs and sweep you into the sea, you feel your own nothingness, and how impotent are most of our efforts to contend against the elements.

That day it blew heavily, and much depended whether it were good holding ground, but our principal fear was that another water-washed rock might be astern, on which if our vessel bumped she must go to pieces. The villagers from the neighbouring coast saw our danger and thronged to the beach: but we paid little attention to them, as we kept our eyes on two points to watch if the pinnace drifted. The sea as far as the eye could reach was one sheet of curling waves, crested with foam, which broke upon our bows and washed our decks; but as the wind became stronger, we veered out cable, though cautiously, as we were uncertain what hidden dangers there might be astern of us. It was an anxious time, as the squall lasted two hours without abatement; but even storms must have an end, and half an hour before sunset the wind lessened, as it often does about that time, and we sent out our boat to sound, and were soon able to have the pinnace towed clear of the water-washed rock, and setting sail we stood out to sea in a north-westerly direction to give us a good offing. We sat up by turns all that night, and amused ourselves by watching the hundreds of stars that fell or shot across the heavens, as is usual in the month of August; and I saw a brilliant meteor of a bluish colour, which appeared in the east, and flashed across the dark sky to disappear almost in a moment. We reached Labuan by daylight the following morning.

I am sorry to say that we did not fulfil our promise to the Kiaus, to go and explore the lake. I fully intended doing so during my last visit to Borneo, but was prevented by my return home. I had not forgotten their commissions, and had provided myself with a large store of needles and thread, which were, however, equally prized by the ladies of Brunei.

I must add a few remarks respecting the plates of the Nepenthes which appear in this volume; they are copied, as I have before observed, from the magnificent plates published in the fourth part of the Transactions of the Linnean Society of London. It is impossible to obtain a complete idea of these astonishing pitchers from the plates I have inserted, as I have been obliged to reduce them to the size of my work; but I the less regret this, as they have been drawn the size of life in the Transactions. With regard to the colouring, I obtained the assistance of Mr. Low, who first saw the plants, and has studied their appearance and growth; and many of the apparent contradictions in describing their appearance arise from the change which takes place in their tints at different ages.