THE COUNCIL
The council of the chiefs was assembling. From every part of Bulungan
residency they came, the Rajahs and the Gustis, the Datu Bandars or
governors of the Malay villages, and the Orang Kayas and Kapala
Kampongs, the Dyak village heads. Their coming was in answer to the call
of Peter Gross, resident, for messengers had been sent to every part of
the province to announce that a great _bitchara_ (talk) was to be held
in Bulungan town.
They came in various ways. The Malay Datu Bandars of the coast towns,
where the Malays were largely in the ascendent, voyaged in royal sailing
proas, some of which were covered with canopies of silk. Each had twenty
men or more, armed to the teeth, in his cortege. The inland Rajahs
traveled in even greater state. Relays of slaves carried them in sedan
chairs, and fifty gleaming krisses marched before and fifty after. The
humbler Orang Kayas and Kapala Kampongs came on foot, with not more than
ten attendants in their trains, for a village head, regardless of the
number of buffaloes in his herd, must not aspire to the same state as a
Rajah, or even a Gusti. The Rajah Wobanguli received each arrival with
a stately dignity befitting the ruler of the largest town in the
residency, and assigned him and his people the necessary number of
houses to shelter them.
But these were not the only strangers in Bulungan. From all the country
round, and from every village along the coast, Dyaks, Malays, Chinese,
and Bugis, and the Bajau sea-wanderers, streamed into the town. The
usually commodious market-place seemed to shrink and dwindle as the
crowd of traders expanded, and the raucous cries of the venders rang
about the street to a late hour at night.
In every second house a cock-fight was in progress. Sweating, steaming
bodies crushed each other in the narrow streets and threatened ruin to
the thatched houses. Malays scowled at Dyaks, and Dyaks glared
vindictively at Malays. Shrewd, bland Chinese intermingled with the
crowd and raked in the silver and copper coins that seemed to flow
toward them by a magnetic attraction. Fierce, piratical Bugis cast
amorous glances at the Dyak belles who, although they shrank timidly
into their fathers' huts, were not altogether displeased at having their
charms noticed.
There was hardly a moment without its bickering and fierce words, and
there were frequent brawls when women fled shrieking, for hill Dyak and
coast Dyak and Malay and Bugi could not meet at such close quarters
without the feuds of untold generations breaking out.
Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every individual in that
reeking press of humanity was the question: "What will the _orang
blanda_ (white man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged upon
rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack ready repetition and
credulous listeners. _Mynheer_ would exact heavy penalties for every act
of piracy and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories ran;
_mynheer_ would confiscate all the next rice crop; _mynheer_ would
establish great plantations and every village would be required to
furnish its quota of forced labor; _mynheer_ would demand the three
handsomest youths from each village as hostages for future good
behavior. Thus long before the council assembled, the tide was setting
against Peter Gross.
Bulungan was ripe and ready for revolt. It chafed under the fetters of a
white man's administration, lightly as those fetters sat. Wildest of
Borneo's residencies, it was the last refuge of the adventurous spirits
of the Malay archipelago who found life in the established provinces of
Java, Sumatra, and Celebes all too tame.
They had tasted freedom for two years under Muller's innocuous
administration and did not intend to permit the old order to be changed.
Diverse as their opinions on other matters might be, bitter as their
feuds might be, hill Dyak and coast Dyak, Malay, Chinese, Bugi, and
Bajau were united on this point. So for the first time in Bulungan's
history a feeling of unanimity pervaded a conclave of such mongrel
elements as were now gathered in old "Rotterdam" town. This feeling was
magnified by a report--originating, no one knew where, and spreading
like wildfire--that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates of the
island seas, the mysterious and silent head of the great confederation,
was in Bulungan and would advise the chiefs how to answer their new
white governor.
Peter Gross was not wholly ignorant of public sentiment in the town. One
of Captain Carver's first acts on coming to Bulungan was to establish
the nucleus of a secret service to keep him informed on public sentiment
among the natives. A Dyak lad named Inchi, whom Carver had first hired
to help with the coarsest camp work, and who had formed an immediate
attachment for his soldierly white _baas_, was the first recruit in this
service and brought in daily reports.
"Inchi tells me that the chiefs have decided they will pay no more tax
to the government," Carver announced to Peter Gross on the morning of
the council. The resident and he were on the drill-ground where they
could talk undisturbed. Peter Gross's lips tightened.
"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally.
"Too bad we haven't the _Prins Lodewyk_ here," Carver remarked. "A few
shells around their ears might bring them to their senses."
"We don't need such an extreme measure yet," Peter Gross deprecated
gently.
"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture into the town,"
Carver observed. "Couldn't you arrange to have the meeting here, away
from all that mob? There must be thirty thousand people down below."
"I would rather meet them on their own ground."
"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we couldn't hold them."
"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be rather long odds," Peter
Gross assented, smiling.
"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't you?" Carver asked
quickly.
"I shall take just two people with me," Peter Gross announced.
"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!" Carver's face was tense with
anxiety.
"Three people will be just as effective as twenty-six, captain," Peter
Gross declared mildly. "The victory we must gain to-day is a moral
victory--we must show the natives that we are not afraid."
"But they're bound to break loose. A show of military force would
restrain them--"
"I think it would be more a provocation than a restraint, captain. They
would see our helplessness. If I go alone they will reason that we are
stronger than they think we are. Our confidence will beget uncertainty
among them."
Carver had long since learned the futility of trying to dissuade his
chief from a course once adopted. He merely remarked:
"Of course I'll go?"
"I'm sorry, captain--" Peter Gross's face expressed sincere regret.
"Nothing would please me more than to have you with me, but I can't
spare you here."
Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his disappointment.
"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked abruptly.
"Inchi--"
Carver nodded approval.
--"And Paddy Rouse."
"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what use--I beg your pardon, Mr.
Gross."
Peter Gross smiled. "It does seem a peculiar mission to take that
youngster on," he said. "But Paddy's going to be rarely useful to me
to-day, useful in a way every man couldn't be. These natives have a
superstitious reverence for red hair."
An understanding smile broke upon Carver's face.
"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and superstition are two
almighty-powerful weapons against savages."
"I also hope that we shall have another ally there," Peter Gross said.
"Who is that?"
"The Juffrouw Koyala."
Carver frowned. "Mr. Gross," he said, "I don't trust that woman. She's
Dyak, and that's the most treacherous breed that was ever spawned. We've
got to look out for her. She's an actress, and mighty clever in playing
her little part, but she can't hide the hate in her heart. She'll keep
us on the string and pretend she's won over, but the first chance she
gets to strike, she'll do it. I've met that kind of woman in the
Philippines."
"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross replied decisively.
Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly. "She's a damn pretty woman,"
he remarked musingly, and shot another quick glance at the resident.
"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter Gross replied sternly.
Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked:
"At what hour does the council meet?"
"Four o'clock."
"You'll be back by sundown?"
"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the night with Wobanguli."
Carver groaned. "Send Inchi if things look as though they were going
wrong," he said. "Might I suggest that you let him go to the village
right away, and keep away from you altogether?"
"If you'll instruct him so, please. In case there is trouble, throw your
men into the fort." He took a package of papers from his pocket and gave
them to Carver. "Here are some documents which I want you to take care
of for me. They are all addressed. One of them is for you; it appoints
you military commandant of Bulungan in case something should happen to
me down below. Don't use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss
you will know how to handle him."
"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and pocketed the envelope. He
strode back to his shelter with a heavy heart.