Whilst lying at this place, riding to a strong flood tide, a canoe floated past us, in which we could discern two dead bodies; they were both dressed as Malays, and the garments were good. Over the bows of the canoe there hung a handsomely ornamented kris. We tried to hook the canoe with the boat-hook, but the strength of the tide was so great that we could not succeed in securing it, and it floated away with the stream. We presumed that they were the bodies of some of the Malays killed in the recent conflict, who probably inhabited a higher portion of the river, and that they had been put into the canoe by their friends to be carried home, and had been swept away by the tide from not having been securely fastened, for nothing would have induced the enemy thus to make us a present of _two heads_. "We weighed, in company with the steamer and boats, on the same evening, and returned to Kuchin, where we arrived on the following day. The men-of-war boats having been towed by the steamer, we arrived some time before the native prahus belonging to the river, which had accompanied us. On the following day they arrived, and the scene was novel and interesting. They all rounded the point together, dressed out with flags of all descriptions, beating their gongs and tom-toms, and firing blank cartridges from their "Leilas." Highly elated with their victory, and with the plunder which had accompanied it, they celebrated it by all getting excessively drunk that night upon shamsoo. We remained at Kuchin for three days, enjoying Mr. Brooke's hospitality; and during that time it was proposed and arranged that we should pay a visit to the river Loondoo, the residence of a very remarkable tribe of Dyaks under Mr. Brooke's authority; but not being able to fix the exact period for the visit, on that night we returned to the ship.