The great stairway of rock was before us, and the crunch of gravel under our boat’s keel warned us that the water could float it no longer. Some of the crew jumped overboard and made secure long lengths of rattan, in order to drag the boats up the many barriers that lay in our way. The men bounded over these impediments, and we bumped and creaked as the rattan ropes dragged us up these enormous boulders, the water pouring over them in all directions. Sometimes the torrent was so impetuous, and the rocks of such a height, that our boat was poised on the centre of a great boulder, its keel grating backwards and forwards, whilst the muscles of our crew stood out like cords on their necks and limbs, as they pulled at the rattans with all their might. Whenever our boat was safely lodged on a rock, the crew rested for a while and bathed in the deep pools of quiet water lying between the stones. They might have been bronze tritons escaped from fountains, endowed with life, and disporting themselves in these waters. The agility of an old Bukitan, who must have been at least sixty-five years old, amused me much. His crown of plaited straw lay over snow-white bristles, and a fine crop of snow-white hair ornamented one side of his cheek, whilst his other cheek was bare. He was proud of his one whisker, and whenever he rested in his arduous work, he stroked it continually. A towel round his waist was his only covering. The old man bounded from rock to rock, agile as a tiger cat; he frequently held the rattan rope in his teeth in helping to pull the boats up. After about an hour’s such toil, we found ourselves above the first ledge of rocks in this great cataract of Pelagus. We clambered up the rocky banks and stood on the edge of a great forest. Rhododendrons, scarlet with blossom, wild red hibiscus, and convolvuli of all colours, hung over the water, whilst masses of tiny flowers, vaguely reminding us of violets, made a mauve carpet for our feet as we stepped along, and in so doing, alas, helped to spoil the picture. We looked up a great reach of the torrent mounting straight and closing the horizon. At our feet the waters were divided by a small, rocky island, on which grew, in scrappy bits of soil, lofty trees with leafy branches. The water frothed and foamed round this impediment, and Mr. Bampfylde informed me that at this spot many boats are swamped and lives lost every year. Then, beyond the horizon lay numberless rapids, not so dangerous as is that of Pelagus, and before reaching Belaga, the water flows tranquilly along until the upper reaches of the Rejang are reached. Belaga is a great centre for rattans, camphor, and gutta-percha. As I stood looking at the whirlpool, Hovering Hawk, who was standing near me, pointed with his thumb to the swirling water all flecked with foam. “See there,” he said, “who knows how many eyes lie buried beneath that foam!”