The Datu Tumanggong is the chief third in rank in Sarawak, and was in his early days known as a successful pirate. He was also the terror of the Dayaks. Many years before Sir James Brooke arrived, he had for some cause killed a Dayak of the tribe of Si-Buñgoh, in those days not considered a deed requiring particular notice; but on this occasion the tribe determined to be revenged. The next time the Datu was known to be on his way up the river, the Dayaks assembled in great numbers round the suspension-bridge, concealing themselves among the trees. Unsuspicious of the ambuscade, the chief, with twenty Malay followers, was endeavouring to pole up the rapid, when a shower of spears threw them into confusion; the Datu was principally aimed at, his umbrella was torn to shreds, and he was wounded severely about the shoulders. The men dropping their poles, allowed the boat to get across the stream, and she was instantly upset; while they, unable to see their enemies, scattered themselves in every direction, and hiding among the rocks shouted to their chief to fire. They say he stood his ground manfully, and fired twice without success at his foes, who, thus emboldened, drew nearer. The water was rushing down with great force and reached over his knees, which rendered the operation of loading extremely difficult, but his third shot was fortunate, for bringing down the boldest Dayak, it created a panic among the rest. On collecting his followers, he found two killed and several wounded, among the latter one of our present boatmen. I have often heard the Datu tell the story since with great glee, his voice rising, and going through all his remembered movements with wonderful spirit. “Ah, I was young in those days.” There is a very singular belief prevalent among the Malays--it is this, that men, by going through certain ceremonies, can render themselves invulnerable. The Datu, notwithstanding the many wounds he has received, is still popularly believed to be so. They generally say that these men can never have their skin cut by any sharp instrument, and the offer to test the truth by the application of a razor is not considered polite. The old Datu has often said--“It is as well that the vulgar should believe it, though we know better.” The favourite spot chosen by the novitiates was in the jungle at the back of Sir James Brooke’s former house, between two little streams, called the greater and lesser Bedil (a brass gun). The aspirant was required to remain three days alone in the woods without speaking to a soul; to live very sparingly, and not to indulge in the favourite luxuries of tobacco, sirih and betel. If on the third day he dreamt of a beautiful spirit descending to speak to him, he might consider that his work was accomplished. Patah, the Datu’s son, a fine, bold and good fellow, told me he had tried twice, but the fairy had never appeared to him.