The Bornean Government, on hearing of my intention to start, was filled with uneasiness, and earnestly requested me to forego my intention. The Sultan and Pañgeran Tumanggong were especially anxious, as they feared some accident would happen; they talked of the head-hunting Kayans, the wandering Pakatans with their poisoned arrows, the interior filled with strange aborigines who had never seen a white man or even a Malay, and the dangers of the river that imperilled our boats, and the wanderings in the jungle that threatened starvation. The last two were especially dwelt upon, as they reminded me of my former misadventure in returning from Molu. They little thought that their descriptions of the interior (from hearsay) only added to my desire to be away exploring. I knew that all the threatened dangers really existed, but I determined to take every precaution, and trust the rest to that fortune which had ever befriended me in my former journeys. It being uncertain how long I might be away, it was necessary to take a large supply of food and ammunition. We prepared two boats, and both were heavily laden; the first was a garei, a long canoe with raised sides and regular timbers, forty-five feet by five, flat-bottomed, not drawing above eighteen inches, with all her crew and stores on board. She was commanded by a man I have often had occasion to mention, Musa, a native of the Philippines, not above five feet one inch in height, but sturdily and strongly built. The crew consisted of ten men, half of whom were tried followers. An accompanying tender, containing six men, was only suited for smooth water, being totally unfitted for the rapids we should find in the interior, but it was our intention to change it when we reached the Murut villages. In this boat was Japer, the most remarkable man of the whole party. I met him at the village of Blimbing during my first attempt to ascend Molu, and he was full of stories. I learned that he belonged originally to the wandering Pakatans, but had been converted to Islamism. He appeared to have been quite a traveller, having visited Penang, Malaka, Batavia, and Sarawak. He was familiar with the English conquest of Java, and talked fluently of Lord Minto. I had been so accustomed to look upon the great French war as a thing of the past, that I could scarcely bring myself to believe that this man could have seen Lord Minto at Malaka or Penang in 1811, but considering he was at least sixty-three when I first saw him in 1857, there was really nothing surprising in it.