Through Central Borneo; an Account of Two Years' Travel in the Land of Head-Hunters Between the Years 1913 and 1917Lumholtz, Carl
History
Through Central Borneo; an Account of Two Years' Travel in the Land of Head-Hunters Between the Years 1913 and 1917
Lumholtz, Carl
Borneo -- Description and travel; Ethnology -- Borneo; Natural history -- Borneo
On board the steamer were also two Punan head-hunters from the interior
who were being taken to Bandjermasin under the guard of two soldiers. They
had been caught through the assistance of other Punans, and in prison the
elder one had contracted the dry form of beri-beri. He was a pitiful
sight, in the last stage of a disease not usually found among his
compatriots, no longer able to walk, looking pale and emaciated and having
lost the sight of his right eye. They had rather wild but not unpleasant
faces, and were both tatued like the Kenyahs. Their hair had been cut
short in the prison. I later took the anthropometric measurements of the
young man, who was a fine specimen of the savage, with a splendid figure,
beautifully formed hands and feet--his movements were elastic and easy.
As it had been found impossible to secure Dayaks in the Bulungan for my
expedition to New Guinea, the resident courteously offered to get eighty
men from the Mahakam River. This would take at least two months and gave
me opportunity to visit a lake called Sembulo, a considerable distance
west of Bandjermasin. It was necessary first to go to Sampit, a small
town, two days distant, on a river of the same name, where there is a
controleur to whom the resident gave me an introduction, and who would be
able to assist in furthering my plans. I could not afford to wait for the
monthly steamer which touches at Sampit on its way to Singapore, so I
arranged to make the trip on board an old wooden craft which was under
repairs in Bandjermasin, and in the afternoon of June 5 we started.
The steamer was small, slow, and heavily laden, so it was not a very
pleasant trip. As we sailed down the great Barito River on a dark and
cloudy evening, from the deck, which was scarcely a metre above the muddy
water, one might observe now and then floating clumps of the plants that
thrive so well there. On approaching the mouth of the river the water,
with the outgoing tide, became more shallow. The Malay sailor who
ascertained the depth of the water by throwing his line and sang out the
measures in a melodious air, announced a low figure, which made the
captain stop immediately. The anchor was thrown and simultaneously a great
noise of escaping steam was heard. Before the engine-room the sailors were
seen trying to stop the steam which issued, holding sacks in front of them
as a protection against being scalded. Coupled with my observation that
there were no life preservers in my little cabin, nor anywhere else, the
situation appeared disquieting, but the captain, a small-sized Malay and a
good sailor, as all of that race are, reassured me by saying that it was
only the glass for controlling the steam-power that was broken. After a
while the escape of steam was checked and a new glass was put in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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