then there were women in her;
and one little girl just like the one here," meaning Maria.

On this I pricked up my ears, and my heart beat quick with anxiety. I
entreated Hassan to make further enquiries.

"They say that the vessel was rigged like this; she was a brig." He
continued, after speaking with them for some time: "She came in here for
wood and water. She was not a war ship, but the people went about
armed. They were very disorderly; and some of them behaving ill to the
people on shore, were very nearly cut off, and barely escaped with their
lives to their boat. She then set sail, and going down the river was no
more seen."

This account made me feel that it was more than probable that the brig
was no other than the _Emu_, and that she had been run away with by her
crew. Another dreadful idea instantly forced itself on my imagination.
If the brig in question was the _Emu_, had she really sailed, or had the
Dyaks, as they might have been tempted to do, cut her off? I begged
Hassan to make every inquiry, and to cross-question the people to
ascertain the truth of their story. I was inclined to believe it, as
they had so frankly spoken about the brig; whereas, had they destroyed
her, it would have been a subject they would have avoided. At all
events, we observed no European arms or clothes in their possession; and
Hassan assured us that he had every reason to think that they did not
deceive us. In this unexpected way I discovered that the vessel I was
in search of was not wrecked, and that there was every probability of my
friends being alive. All other interests were now absorbed in this
great one, and I never ceased making inquiries about the brig of all I
met. I, notwithstanding, went on shore with a party of officers, to
visit the strange residence before us. It struck me that the idea of
Jack and the Bean Stalk might have originated from it. Having climbed
up the ladder, we were ushered into the chief's room, which was in the
centre, behind it being arranged that of the women. There was but
little furniture besides mats and cushions; and the only ornaments, if
they could be so called, were a number of dried human heads hanging from
the ceiling. I shuddered as I looked at them at first; but I own that I
soon got accustomed to them. They were the heads of the enemies of the
tribe taken in war, and were prized as much as the North American Indian
does the scalps of his foes. No objection was