"Peace be unto you, Penglima Lenggang Laut! Of no ordinary beauty Is the Vessel of Penglima Lenggang Laut! The Vessel that is called 'The Yellow Spirit-boat,' The Vessel that is overlaid with vermilion and ivory, The Vessel that is gilded all over; Whose Mast is named 'Prince Mendela,' Whose Shrouds are named 'The Shrouds that are silvered,' Whose Oars are named 'The Feet of the Centipede' (And whose Oarsmen are twice seven in number). Whose Side is named 'Civet-cat Fencing,' Whose Rudder is named 'The Pendulous Bees'-nest,' Whose Galleries are named 'Struggling Pythons,' Whose Pennon flaps against the deckhouse, Whose Streamers sport in the wind, And whose Standard waves so bravely. Come hither, good sir; come hither, my master, It is just the right moment to veer your vessel. Master of the Anchor, heave up the anchor; Master of the Foretop, spread the sails; Master of the Helm, turn the helm; Oarsmen, bend your oars; Whither is our vessel yawing to? The vessel whose starting-place is the Navel of the Seas, And that yaws towards the Sea where the 'Pauh Janggi' grows, Sporting among the surge and breakers, Sporting among the surge and following the wave-ridges. It were well to hasten, O Penglima Lenggang Laut, Be not careless or slothful, Linger not by inlet or river-reach, Dally not with mistress or courtesan, But descend and enter into your embodiment." A number of rhymed stanzas follow which will be found in the Appendix. Meanwhile the medicine-man was not backward in his preparations for the proper reception of the spirit. First he scattered incense on the embers and fumigated himself therewith, "shampooing" himself, so to speak, with his hands, and literally bathing in the cloud of incense which volumed up from the newly-replenished censer and hung like a dense gray mist over his head. Next he inhaled the incense through his nostrils, and announced in the accents of what is called the spirit-language (bhasa hantu) that he was going to "lie down." This he accordingly did, reclining upon his back, and drawing the upper end of his long plaid sarong over his head so as to completely conceal his features. The invocation was not yet ended, and for some time we sat in the silence of expectation. At length, however, the moment of possession arrived, and with a violent convulsive movement, which was startling in its suddenness, the "Pawang" rolled over on to his face. Again a brief interval ensued, and a second but somewhat less violent spasm shook his frame, the spasm being strangely followed by a dry and ghostly cough. A moment later and the Pawang, still with shrouded head, was seated bolt upright facing the tambourine player. Then he fronted round, still in a sitting posture, until he faced the jars, and removed the yam-leaf covering from the mouth of each jar in turn.