We were rather hungry, and tried to get the stuff down,
but had to give it up as a bad job. The nasty taste was
most persistent, however; and for several days coffee,
biscuit, rice, and even fresh fruit, seemed to have somewhat
of the offensive cocoa-nut oil flavour about it. I
remonstrated with my “ boy ” about the matter, with the
usual result. “ Yes, sah, that China boy bad man, sah ;
he tell me oil very good for curry, sah ! ” I have no
doubt, but that the “ China boy” enjoyed the joke with
“ a smile that was childlike and bland,” and doubtless he
related the story to his pretty Malay wife on his return,
with many “ Ah yahs ” and inward chuckling. We made
shift with biscuit and coffee, and a smoke destroyed the
bad taste for the time being.
This was the evening preceding the commencement of
Kamadan, the “ fast month,” observed by all Mahome-
dans, and there was a great burning of gunpowder in the
village. Muskets and small cannon were being discharged
all over the place in honour of the event.
Salutes of this kind, and the festive firing of shot-guns,
however harmless it may seem in print, is in reality
sometimes a little alarming. The powder used in
charging may possibly be bad in quality; but as a great
noise is thought to be the thing, any defect in its
quality is pretty well made up for by the quantity used.
I am not a very nervous person, but I once or twice felt
just a little anxious as the natives amused themselves by
firing a charge of five or six inches of powder from a
seven and-sixpenny German gun. I once saw some
Sulus firing a salute from some old dismounted brass
guns which were lashed on the floor of the wharf at
Sandakan. They coolly sat down beside the ordnance,
waved a bit of rope-yarn until the smouldering fire at one
end brightened up into a glowing spark, and then plunged
it into the touch-hole; nor did they seem in the least
disconcerted as the guns sprang a yard into the air
dragging up the nebong planks with them, the whole
returning with a crash by reason of their elasticity.
In the morning, after breakfast, Mr. Treacher returned
down the river, but could not cross to Labuan until next
day, as a heavy sea was running with much wind and
rain, so he had to put back to Pulo Sirra until morning.
After his departure I had a consultation with “ Bongsur”
about the country, and eventually decided to shift my
quarters from his father’s house to that of his brother,
from which the forests and hills of the district could be
more readily reached. A party of natives and one or
two Muruts who had come to the Kadyan’s village to
trade, soon got all my traps stowed into the canoes, and
half an hour’s pull brought us to the clearing in which
my future head-quarters were situated. I found here
half-a-dozen palm-leaf houses built on piles six feet high,
a notched tree trunk serving as a ladder by which to
enter. The largest house was forty or fifty yards long
by eighteen or twenty feet wide, and being nearly new, it
was clean and in good condition. It was occupied by
“ Bongsur’s ” brother, a lithe and intelligent young
fellow named “ Moumein,” and three or four other
families.
Within, it was simply one large room open to the roof,
and divided in half by the central path, communicating
with doors at either end. On the right were the hearths
for cooking, water-jars, bamboos, baskets, and other
simple tools or utensils, the left-hand side being covered
with the sleeping-mats of the separate families. Two or
three mosquito nets hung over the mats, and at the head
of each hung the parong, spear, musket, or other arms of
the men, other spears, shields, blowpipes, &c., being laid