Indonesian Gold. Kerry B Collison
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investigation, moved around the east coast to the Mahakam River. He rested for two weeks in Samarinda, the sores on his arms and legs the result of mosquitoes, leeches and rashes that inevitably accompanied surveys into such remote parts, not yet healed from incessant scratching. When his companion and assistant, Mardidi, had suffered a reoccurring malaria attack, Baird had been tempted to postpone the Mahakam survey and return to Jakarta for a number of months, to recuperate. But the urgency in Kremenchug’s voice when Baird had phoned from Samarinda suggesting the delay had put an end to that.
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The Australian geologist had taken a room in the river port’s Mesra Hotel, an oasis by Borneo standards and one that could never have survived without expatriates and Indonesia’s timber tycoons. In contrast, Mardidi’s accommodations in the local losmen were, however, far from luxurious. Although Baird insisted that they share his tent when out in the field, the geologist remained distant, even aloof towards the younger man when in the presence of other foreigners. Baird had explained the social parameters that required their relationship remain covert, and Mardidi abided by these.
After a number of days resting, Mardidi had been able to rejoin Baird. Provisions and equipment loaded, the two men had boarded a speedboat before sunrise and headed upstream at speed, the powerful outboard engines weaving through the perilous path, blocked at many points by half-submerged logs.
This first leg of their journey lasted until dusk, leaving the men with tired, and aching bodies. Their arrival at the Long Bagun, losmen-styled rest station had been expected, the staff there had been alerted by radio. Here, the river’s conditions required a change in carrier and, as it would have been foolhardy to attempt the rapids in darkness, the group remained overnight, retiring early in preparation of yet another pre-dawn start. The following morning the two men watched as their provisions and other precious cargo were loaded into a cigar shaped longboat, Baird satisfied that the two-hundredhorsepower outboards hanging over the stern, would get them to Tiong Ohang before nightfall.
Following the river’s meandering course throughout another monotonous day, they reached the river station and Mardidi suffered another relapse. Baird decided to leave him there to recuperate – electing to complete the survey alone, promising to return within the week. He left sufficient supplies and cash with the villagers to cover Mardidi’s needs, then addressed the problem of whether to retain the Modang boatmen, or call for others from further upstream.
He was now in a quandary. Changing crews, which also meant vessels, without his assistant to oversee the transition might result in equipment essential for the survey either being damaged, or even disappearing altogether. He decided to continue with the longboat-men already on hand, and offered them bonuses to transport him to where he intended establishing the isolated base camp. The Modang crewmen had reluctantly agreed. Baird spoke to the headman and, assured of their commitment to care for Mardidi, left his companion and his first aid kit, in their care. Now, alone with the disgruntled crew, his concerns grew as their mood became openly aggressive, and he regretted his hasty decision to move ahead without his Javanese assistant.
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Leaving the Mahakam, they ventured deeper into the reaches of the secondary tributary system, and the Modang crew became increasingly agitated, as they were reminded of the Penehing-Dayak’s past penchant for taking heads. Many downstream-river dwellers maintained that the practice was still evident amongst the more isolated groups that dwelled in the Mount Batubrok foothills, not far from where Baird was determined to visit.
Needles of dancing sunlight pierced the heavy-foliaged jungle canopy whilst unfamiliar sounds tricked their ears. Swept with fear, the lead boatman whispered in his own dialect to the crewman aft, possibly suggesting they abandon the foreigner, and leave this dark place. Baird sensed a change in the air – a chill touched his spine as he caught a glimpse of the navigating crewman’s stony features when he turned and signaled his co-conspirator. The longboat’s engines were immediately stifled in response to the navigator’s gesture. Alarmed by the sudden quiet and the guide’s obvious concern, Eric Baird fought familiar bowel-tugging dread of the unknown, the jungle rushed to envelop their surrounds and his mind raced, and conjured up non-existent dangers. A shrill call permeated the choking stillness and all reared back as a low-flying, black, rhinoceros hornbill struck out from a nearby bank, startled by their presence. Baird heard a loud grunt followed by movement along the muddy riverbank as camouflaged predators rose in readiness, then something slid from the shadows into the water nearby.
‘Ada apa, sih?’ – ‘What is it?’ Baird asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, a raised palm in response, silencing him immediately. He tucked his arms inside the boat’s hull, and his nervousness grew when the forward crewman’s hand went to the sheathed, razor-sharp parang hanging at his waist.
‘Babi,’ the man announced, and turned with a wide grin across his face. A wild pig broke through the thick undergrowth, raised its snout, sniffed, then turned and fled.
The Australian’s eyes raced along the shadowy riverbank reaches, every log a frame in his mind depicting a crocodile waiting to feast on his carcass. He shivered, reached up to brush aside hanging vines partially blocking his vision and froze; a well-camouflaged but deadly poisonous snake coiled within inches of his outstretched fingers. Baird was momentarily lost in the screaming quiet that only a jungle environment can deliver; he recovered from his lapse once the danger had passed. Shaken, he reached for a cigarette, fumbled when he attempted to open the silver cigarette case which then slipped from his hands into the partially, water-filled, and now drifting longboat. Soon, he would be all out of cigarettes and he looked at the intimidating navigator, wondering where the man had secreted the dozen or more cartons that had so mysteriously disappeared during the previous night’s camp.
Mutely, Baird observed as both men extracted paddles, secured inside the hull, and guided the long, wooden vessel on a course parallel to the embankment, bending low to avoid being snared by the thick, clinging vines. Drawn by the current the longboat continued to drift, entering a much narrower flow, separated now from the larger stream by a series of broken mud banks. Less than ten meters to either side decaying jungle growth blanketed the forest floor. The dank surrounds were spotted with wild, and highly toxic mushrooms, spawned under intermittent sunlight, and offering instant death to the foolish. Baird checked his compass then squinted up through the canopy at the fading light, anxious to reach his destination and establish camp before nightfall.
Before he embarked on this expedition Baird had examined Mines Department data and Dutch records covering the Upper Mahakam reaches. He decided to survey a relatively un-charted area where a number of minor tributaries entered the main river system.
‘Start the engines,’ Baird ordered in Bahasa Indonesia, the national lingua franca. His voice carried more bravado than he felt. The boatmen glanced at each other, their unspoken words clearly understood.
‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘we need to find somewhere to camp, before dark.’
‘Tidak mau terus, Tuan,’ the man crouched forward announced, refusing to go on. ‘Kami mau pulang,’ he added, suggesting that they return to their village downstream.
They had been contracted to ferry the geologist upstream, clear a site for his base camp then return. Baird had originally planned on spending two weeks surveying the area and was counting on the local villagers to provide river transport back to the transit station. But now, with Mardidi not at his side, and having not seen any semblance of village life in over two hours, he accepted that his plan lay flawed.
‘Okay,’ Baird sighed, tapping the wallet they knew he kept in the jacket’s pocket. ‘I will pay you an extra five day’s charter if you continue for another day,’ but the men immediately started shaking their heads.
‘This is a bad place,Tuan.We don’t wish to continue,’ one complained.
‘Alright,’ Baird’s experience warned him that now was the time to be generous. ‘I’ll pay you for an additional ten days if you continue.’
While the two men discussed