FURTHER MEANS OF DEFENCE—THE OATH OF ATONEMENT—JOHANNES AN
ORATOR—TWO GUN SHOTS—THE ATTACK—WIENERSDORF IN A FAINT—A GRATEFUL
POENAN—A DAYAK BEAUTY—AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE—WIENERSDORF IS ENGAGED
TO HAMADOE—AN AMBASSADOR FROM THE COLONEL—HE CARRIES BACK HIS
MESSAGE.
At daybreak every man in the fortification again set to work to
complete arrangements for defence. Johannes and Wienersdorf were among
the earliest and most active workers. They hauled up all the canoes and
placed them in security, and then levelled the banks of the river in
order to render a surprise by water impracticable. These tasks finished
they dug a quadruple circle of pits around the fortress, and after
driving a couple of pointed stakes in each of them they covered them
with a layer of long grass in order to conceal them from view. They
also planted rows of spikes of hard wood in the vicinity of all the
principal approaches.
The Poenans of Harimaoung Boekit were in the meantime occupied in
preparing the stake at which their victim was to be immolated. This,
when finished, was planted in the centre of the quadrangle, the area of
which was swept and strewn with white sand in accordance with the
custom observed on similar occasions. The women were busily engaged in
cooking as the ceremony of the oath of atonement invariably concluded
with a grand festive banquet. They killed two buffaloes and four large
pigs, the flesh of which was made into numerous savory dishes, boiled,
roasted and stewed. Instead of the usual pileworms they had slices of
snakes and a bangamat, or flying dog, roasted whole and served like our
sucking pigs. The principal side dish consisted of baloedoek, an
amphibious animal about a foot long, white and covered with fine
scales. Its body resembles a fish and it has the head of a frog.
Besides these there were hambatar, or the larvæ of beetles. They also
prepared cakes of rice meal, sago and pisang, while finally, in the way
of confectionery, they had shells filled with tangoeli, the larvæ of
bees stewed in honey, a highly prized delicacy. Every one being thus
busily occupied, the hours of the morning soon passed.
It was close upon noon when all was ready for the ceremony. Amai Kotong
then called the inhabitants of kotta Djangkan together and Harimaoung
Boekit formally invited the Europeans to be present at the ceremony of
the oath of atonement. All of them however could not attend, as they
had undertaken to keep the lookout in turns while the festivities were
in progress. La Cueille was first detached for this important duty.
Wienersdorf and Harimaoung Boekit took their places in the midst of six
young men who, with palm branches in their hands, formed a guard of
honor for the two heroes of the festival.
Arrived at the quadrangle, they found all the men dressed in full war
costume and their faces covered by a taboekah or wooden mask. They all
carried their mandauws and lances and now formed around the stake. When
everything was arranged the priestesses commenced their chants
accompanied by the sound of their katambongs.
The singing lasted until past mid-day when the signal for producing the
victim was given. While she was fetched from her cage one of the
priestesses mounted an especially prepared ladder and sung an
invocation, beseeching that a favorable omen might be vouchsafed the
impending ceremony.
A falcon, as if it had understood the invocation, immediately appeared
above the border of the forest. Rising to the left of the fort it
soared higher and higher in the air, describing large circles until it
had mounted midway in the zenith, when it stopped for a few minutes.
After remaining thus motionless for a short time it suddenly uttered a
piercing cry and flew away in the direction whence it had come. Every
Dayak present was affected. The cry uttered by the bird was construed
into a warning and regarded as a most unfavorable omen.
In the meantime the poor woman had entered the circle and two men began
to tie her. She had scarcely strength enough to stand and kept her head
gently hanging sideways. For the rest, she appeared to be calm and
freely viewed the environing circle.
After having been securely tied Harimaoung Boekit approached
Wienersdorf, made a slight incision with his knife on his naked chest
and collected the blood in a vessel. He then made a similar incision on
his own body, caught the blood in the same vessel and filled it with
toeak. He thereupon raised the bloody mixture and pronounced a fearful
curse upon himself in case he should ever break the tie of brotherhood
which he was now on the point of cementing. He called upon every deity
and demon to witness his brotherly affection for the saviour of his
life. He invoked their most fearful punishment if he should ever prove
false to him and finished by half emptying the vessel held in his hand.
This he next offered to Wienersdorf who swallowed the contents although
his stomach rebelled against the mixture. After this ceremony the
Poenan chief again spoke, addressing the Swiss:
“We are brothers now and I will always treat you as such. But another
debt of blood still exists between us. When I attacked your party I
tried to get your heads. During this struggle one of your companions
was killed, several of my own followers perished, and—blood requires
blood. See! in order to satisfy this demand we sacrifice one of our
hirelings. We will besmear her with our own blood which will cancel
this debt and render us free of each other.”
Johannes now took Wienersdorf by the hand and mounted with him the
steps recently vacated by the priestess.
“My brethren,” he addressed the congregation, “my friend Dohong (War
Sword), who from his infancy has lived in Bandjermasin where the great
lord of the Dutch reigns, cannot sufficiently express himself in Dayak
and has begged my assistance to speak to you. He gratefully accepts the
bond of Harimaoung Boekit and, happen what may, will always be a good
brother to him. Like the water which, cleft by a mandauw reunites
again, their friendship will remain undisturbed, so that in life and
death they may count upon each other. But our Dohong has been brought
up amongst the whites. They have taught him that no one is allowed to
kill a human being. Even in Kwala Kapoeas such an act is strictly
forbidden. Dohong follows their customs and abhors the killing of men,
unless it is on the battlefield. He therefore proposes to his brother
to spare the life of this woman, and in order to wash away the debt of
blood he suggests that a buffalo shall be sacrificed. You have noticed
the evil omen of the falcon. This only happens because we inhabitants
of Kwala Kapoeas were going to commit a sin by violating the obligation
solemnly undertaken by us not to kill any human beings. Let us then
kill a buffalo instead of this woman and you will see that the omens
will change and become favorable.”
Dead silence reigned within the square of kotta Djangkan. At the end of
the speech every face had become darkened and exhibited the greatest
dissatisfaction. The Poenans especially showed their feelings by
grasping their mandauws. They considered the words just uttered as a
grave offence against their chief. Harimaoung Boekit now mounted the
steps and addressed the assembly:
“Here in the upper country,” he commenced, “the whites have nothing to
say; whenever they wish to command here, let them come! Are they so
careful themselves of human life? How many thousands of lives have been
sacrificed during the war in this beautiful island? And who caused that
war? Did not their avarice? Who will tell of the numerous Javanese
starved to death, because they had to plant coffee or to build kottas
for the palefaces, so that they had no time left them for the
cultivation of their own fields? Do you think we are ignorant of all
this? They forbid us to kill our hirelings and pretend to have
veneration for slaves. Do not trust white men; their lips are oily but
they are hypocrites.” With increased passion, he continued, “Touch
their purse and they will kill hundreds of free men as well as slaves.
They do worse than killing men in order to make money.”
The Poenan paused awhile as if waiting to take breath, when he thus
resumed: “But who cares for the orders of these whites? It behooves
every man to follow the institutions of his country. The ceremony must
proceed——unless my brother Dohong refuses to accept my friendship.”
These last words were uttered in a subdued tone accompanied by a sob.
The thought that his saviour would refuse his friendship visibly
affected the child of Nature. For the rest, the Poenan stood there
proud and gallant, his nostrils dilated and his head thrown back, while
his mandauw was already half unsheathed.
Wienersdorf anxiously scanned the surrounding men. La Cueille was
absent; Johannes stood with his head bent upon his chest; the Dayaks of
kotta Djangkan uttered a murmur of approbation and joined the side of
their relatives, the Poenans. Even Dalim and his companions stood
motionless. They could not count upon any assistance. A second’s
hesitation would suffice to cause a quarrel which could only terminate
in the death of the Europeans. Wienersdorf foresaw all this and
suddenly seizing the hand of Harimaoung Boekit he raised it to his lips
and bowed his head.
Johannes now came forward to the flag-staff, produced a small bundle,
tied it to a line and hoisted it to the top. The boys ranged themselves
in file; the eldest of them stepped forward and uttering a fiendish
laugh stabbed the victim under the left breast. All single men would
have followed his example by piercing the flesh of the victim with the
point of their lances to the depth of about half an inch but for the
events which now occurred and which served to divert all attention from
the victim.
First, she uttered a piercing yell. She had remained calm up to the
present, but now her shrieks were heart-rending.
While all this was taking place Johannes shook the flag line and
disentangled the parcel just hoisted, when the Dutch ensign proudly
unfurled itself above the head of the poor woman.
It seemed as if this tricolor was her salvation, for suddenly two guns
were fired in rapid succession summoning the garrison to the ramparts.
Johannes, taking advantage of the general confusion, rushed forwards,
severed the cords by which the victim was bound and thus liberated her.
He then joined his confederates to see what had occurred.
La Cueille, seated in his elevated box, which overlooked the river for
a considerable distance, placed the two loaded guns in position,
possessed himself of a lighted torch and waited his opportunity with a
vigilant eye on the river. At last he saw a fleet of canoes appear from
behind an angle of the soengei. He remained quiet, however, and allowed
them to approach nearer still.
The time for action at length arrived. Adjusting the elevation of his
guns he applied the torch to the touchhole, and sent a couple of balls
in the midst of the fleet, sinking one of the canoes and causing no
little confusion amongst the rest.
The Colonel hereupon ordered his men to land so as provisionally to
place them out of danger, and accordingly the whole of the attacking
force was soon hidden among the shrubs and trees of the bank. He knew,
however, the danger of leaving his troops under the influence of this
first repulse, and therefore, although the mystery of the Dutch flag
waving from the fortress still puzzled him, he determined not to
hesitate, but collected his forces and advanced to storm the
fortification. He remembered the experience of former contests, that in
Indian warfare boldness secures success.
He would undoubtedly have been successful now but for the Europeans
within the fortification. These, as soon as they perceived the enemy to
be within range, discharged their guns loaded with grape, which made
the assailants waver. A lively rifle fire terminated the hesitation of
the heroes and drove them to flight before they had had an opportunity
of discharging a single shot. When Harimaoung Boekit witnessed their
retreat he could hardly control himself. He darted out of the
fortification to hunt for heads. But while hacking about among the
struggling fugitives a troop of armed warriors suddenly appeared from
behind some ambush and surrounded him. They threw a lasso round his
neck and dragged him away half strangled. Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen,
on seeing this, collected some of their men and hurried to the spot
with all speed.
Arriving at the slope of the hill they saw the body of the Poenan being
carried off by a few men. Taking careful aim they discharged their
rifles and laid four of the enemy lifeless. The others hesitated, but
knowing their prey to be a chief and therefore too valuable to be left
behind, they persevered in the attempt although two more of them were
struck down. Suddenly from the fort there issued a reinforcement.
Several natives appeared upon the scene, who rushed forward with their
naked mandauws and after a brief struggle Wienersdorf had the
satisfaction of freeing the Poenan from the rope which had almost
strangled him. He offered him his hand, assisted him in getting up and
whispered a salamat, congratulation, in his ear, as he rose to his
feet.
The Poenan took the two Swiss by their hands, which he placed on his
own head, saying, “Paharingkoe, my brethren.”
After a few more shots from both sides everything became quiet.
The assailants effected their retreat and proceeded to count their
loss. Five of their dead they hurriedly buried, but they left more than
treble that number of wounded behind them groaning amongst the shrubs.
The garrison of the kotta had lost only one man, a hireling who had
been killed by a rifle shot.
The festivities thus interrupted, were not, however, abandoned. The
besieged partook of the banquet in divisions, one part feasting while
the other stood ready to defend the fort against a renewed attack. All,
however, celebrated their victory by partaking of a bowl of toeak,
though they carefully kept within the bounds of sobriety.
Faithful to his reverend character the Walloon abstained from all such
food and drinks as are prohibited by the Prophet. With holy
indifference he saw the tidbits disappear down almost insatiable
throats, and he remained perfectly calm when Johannes held a delicious
pork chop under his nose. As for the toeak, he could only sigh deeply
at the smell of it. He was, however, comforted by a promise conveyed by
Johannes to reserve for him his fair share to be enjoyed after leaving
the circle of these profane ones.
While our Europeans were partaking of the numerous delicacies a Poenan
entered and threw a couple of skulls in the midst of the company. A
deafening applause greeted this action. Two of them grasped the skulls,
severed the remaining cervical vertebræ and with a bamboo knife began
to empty the substance of the brain into a dish through the spinal
opening. Another Poenan severed large locks from the heads, cut the
hair into pieces of about one and a half inches and added them with
some powdered Spanish pepper to this bloody mass of brain. The
deserters viewed all this in silent horror. When every particle of
brain had been removed from the skulls and the dish was properly
prepared, a Poenan took it up, placed an earthenware spoon in the
mixture and offered it to Johannes who refused it politely. When it was
presented to Wienersdorf he glanced at it, became suddenly over-powered
by a feeling of nausea and fell down senseless.
The other Europeans in their consternation took no notice of
Wienersdorf’s faint, and the Dayaks, though a little surprised at the
refusal of the foreigners to taste of this delicacy, were but too
delighted to see it all left to themselves. The one who carried the
dish grasped the spoon, filled it, threw his head back and closing his
eyes allowed a fair quantity to glide down his throat, his features all
the while beaming with the utmost delight. He then handed the dish to
one of his companions who went through the same manœuvre and then
passed the delicacy further. Slowly and with ecstatic happiness they
sucked at the hairs which are included in the mixture for the express
purpose of compelling them to enjoy it deliberately.
This loathsome feast was too much for the Europeans. The scene turned
their very souls, and jumping up to fly from this terrible drama, they
noticed for the first time that Wienersdorf had fainted and was lying
senseless.
They carried him away with them to the open air where, assisted by
draughts of cold water, they all soon regained their composure.
Harimaoung Boekit now for the second time owed his life to Wienersdorf.
He had learned from his followers with what courage his new brother had
come to his assistance. He approached his rescuer and putting his hand
on his shoulder asked whether he could do anything for him. All he
possessed he placed at the disposal of his deliverer and even offered
to become his hireling at the sacrifice of his personal freedom.
Wienersdorf, though still under the influence of the scene recently
witnessed, did not long hesitate. He took the hand of the Poenan, shook
it passionately, and begged for the life of the poor woman who had been
temporarily saved from a miserable end by the unforeseen arrival of the
hostile fleet. This request was granted after some hesitation, the
Poenan averring that he could not comprehend why he thus insisted upon
sparing the life of this woman, who besides being the mother of two
children was middle-aged and ill-looking. He felt greatly astonished at
the perverted taste of the Swiss. Anxious, however, to render his
deliverer happy by the possession of a comely wife he now offered him
his own sister, a young and comely maiden, the pride of her tribe. Thus
by a suitable marriage they would strengthen the tie of brotherhood.
Hamadoe, as the young lady was called, was a splendid creature with a
fine complexion delicately tinted. Her mouth was exquisitely chiselled,
her eyes large and dark beamed with a soft languishing expression, but
were also capable of that fiery brilliancy so often met with in eastern
races. Her figure was magnificent, tall, lithe and graceful; she
possessed the carriage which peculiarly distinguishes the child of
nature and which is so rarely encountered in the lands of a civilized
society.
Our Europeans had often admired the beautiful Hamadoe and thought her
worthy of the name she bore, sweet honey. Now, however, that this pearl
of female beauty was offered to him, Wienersdorf hesitated and was on
the point of refusing. Luckily Johannes interfered and adroitly
answered the Poenan that his friend would gratefully accept his offer
to become the husband of the fair Hamadoe.
Astonished at this unexpected intervention the Swiss looked up and
wished to speak; but Johannes politely begged him to retire;
Wienersdorf withdrew accordingly, not the less determined that however
captivating the beautiful Hamadoe might be, he would not be forced to
commit any act of folly.
Harimaoung Boekit led Johannes to his dwelling, the maiden was called,
and Johannes formally proposed for his friend according to the existing
Dayak custom. At first she seemed favorably inclined, but seeing that
the agent had not one single skull to offer as a marriage gift she
hesitated. At last she took a female dress which was hanging up to dry
and offered it to Johannes, saying, “Your friend is no man, he is only
a shy woman and unworthy of male attire; tell him to wear this
petticoat.”
Johannes only smiled without accepting the dress. Harimaoung Boekit
here told her how this stranger had twice saved his life and explained
to her that as in the lower country the Dutch had prohibited
head-hunting, his deliverer had to submit to command, but that he was
nevertheless one of the bravest of the brave, a true Dohong.
After this explanation the girl did not further hesitate, but frankly
declared that she would retract her words. She added that she would be
proud to please her brother, and was ready to become Dohong’s partner
for life and to share his weal and woe. She begged her brother to
prepare everything for the speedy celebration of the blako ontong, when
they would implore blessings on her marriage from the Radja balawang
boelau, the King of the Golden Gate of Heaven.
All this was said with such charming modesty that Johannes became
enchanted with the maiden and almost envied the good-fortune of his
companion. When Hamadoe had retired, the real marriage treaty was
proceeded with. Johannes began with the explanation that Dohong, being
a liberated hireling, was not blessed with any earthly treasure, and
was consequently unable to produce either a high palakko or the usual
sums of money required for the celebration of the marriage. The palakko
is a settlement deposited by the bridegroom with the parents of the
bride, amounting, according to the wealth of the bridegroom, to a sum
ranging from fifty to eight hundred guilders.
This money serves to keep the lover constant; for at the slightest
proof of unfaithfulness, it becomes the property of the wife.
Harimaoung Boekit smiled at this communication, took a few bamboo boxes
from the wall and presented them to Johannes, with the information that
they contained about twenty thaëls of gold dust, sufficient to provide
for all emergencies.
“Could I refuse to part with this gold, and in order to make my brother
Dohong happy?” the generous Poenan chief asked. “I have offered him my
body and after that he may consider everything belonging to me as his
own.”
All being thus far settled the wedding-day was next fixed. It was
proposed that the ceremony should be solemnized two months thence, in
Harimaoung Boekit’s home, situated on the soengei Miri, and that in
honor of Kadjanka, the ruler of the moon and the protector of newly
married women, it should take place on the day of the full moon.
“And let us hope,” Harimaoung Boekit added, “that our besiegers may
have departed long before that time.”
When Johannes rejoined his comrades a dispute immediately arose between
him and Wienersdorf, who refused to entertain the project of a Dayak
marriage.
“I believe you are temporarily insane,” Johannes answered, “however,
you speak as if a separation is so very difficult among the Dayaks.
Why, it is even easier to divorce than to marry here. Each goes his own
way and all is over.”
“And all is over, ha! ha!” the Swiss laughed bitterly. “It is very easy
indeed to abandon your unfortunate wife, is it not? I never thought you
were such an unscrupulous scoundrel.”
“Well, I like that,” Johannes vehemently interrupted. “Here am I, doing
my best to counteract the fatal consequences of your absurd and infirm
philanthropy. An angel of a girl is thrown across the path of your
lordship, and because I have accepted her for you, in the hope of
removing the traces of former follies, you coolly reward my services by
calling me an unscrupulous scoundrel. Let me tell you then,” he
continued with increased passion, “you Europeans are not only the most
ungrateful, but also the most impractical beings in creation, thanks to
your inflated principles. I am sure the Creator must now and then feel
utterly ashamed of the stupidity of the white race.”
Johannes appeared supremely handsome in his disdain; his eyes flashed,
his nostrils quivered and the veins of his forehead were visible like
swollen cords.
Schlickeisen now appeared as pacificator, saying,
“Don’t feel hurt at an unguarded expression of your companion, which I
am positive he did not mean—did you?”
“The words were certainly spoken without reflection,” Wienersdorf
answered solemnly, “and I will willingly retract them. I was angry at
hearing my friend speak so coolly about marriage and divorce in the
same breath.”
“I only made the remark to remove your impression that marriage meant a
compulsory residence in this island. I would feel loath to make a jest
of serious subjects, but I sought to convince you how necessary it is
for us to yield to unavoidable circumstances. As soon as I find myself
among whitefaces I will respect their ideas of marriage and divorce,
but while I am among Borneans I accept their customs and institutions.”
“But permit me to say that I do exactly the same. I fully respect Dayak
customs and nobody will ever reproach me with this want of toleration
which you condemn. The people here and everywhere are at liberty to
intermarry and separate as much as they choose, provided you leave me
out of the question.”
“And yet you will have to get reconciled to this marriage,” Johannes
answered.
“Never!” exclaimed Wienersdorf.
“But for once, reason sensibly.”
“Reason is out of the question. I will never marry a woman with the
knowledge that in a little while I must put her away from me.”
“But listen; as matters stand just now, the marriage is unavoidable.
You have already seriously offended the Poenan chief during the
expiation festival and the mandauws were half unsheathed. Beware of
refusing the hand of his sister for he will take terrible vengeance.
And I repeat what I observed on a former occasion that if you do not
yourself value life you will have to consider us.”
“But,” said Wienersdorf, “is not yours an exaggerated supposition. Will
the Poenan really take the refusal so seriously?”
“Can you doubt it? Have you already forgotten how your behavior during
the execution of that slave made him fear that you did not value his
friendship? What will be the effect of your refusing the hand of his
sister so cordially offered to you? It will most certainly cause a
coolness not far removed from animosity. The Poenan will then withdraw
with all his followers and leave us to our fate.”
“And what if he did?” Wienersdorf said defiantly.
“It would simply deprive us of all assistance from kotta Djangkan. You
seem to forget that we have to thank Harimaoung Boekit for this timely
refuge. As soon as the Poenan leaves us a reconciliation between the
kotta and our besiegers will follow, and the first condition of this
reconciliation will be to deliver up the deserters. Such will be our
fate if you persist in refusing to marry.”
“Stop!” Wienersdorf cried, “you drive me mad. To what an extremity have
you brought me?”
“Only to the extremity of marrying a handsome girl, you lucky dog!” the
Walloon said smilingly.
“Listen again,” Johannes continued, firm as fate, “and consider on the
other hand the consequences of this marriage if duly carried out.
Harimaoung Boekit’s affection towards his deliverer will undoubtedly
increase, you will belong to his relations and we will have gained
faithful allies. The Colonel will raise the siege of kotta Djangkan,
being unable to capture it with the slender means at his disposal. We
will then travel in company with the Poenan chief to the Miri country
where we shall be in perfect security until we find means to escape.”
Wienersdorf sighed heavily; then offering his hand to his companions he
said, with tears in his eyes:
“Friends, I accede and agree to the marriage.”
“He gives way,” La Cueille cried. “Allah be praised, he consents to
marry a most charming young girl.”
While the deserters were thus busy arriving at a decision, Amai Kotong
and Harimaoung Boekit approached with the intelligence that a Dayak of
Kwala Kapoeas had appeared at the gate of the kotta bearing a letter
from the Commander. The two chiefs wished to have the opinions of their
friends. They themselves proposed to refuse admittance to the
messenger, as neither of them could read the letter and feared he might
be a spy. Johannes asked Dalim to follow him and they both went outside
the gate to learn the errand of the ambassador. He was a simple Dayak,
a follower of Tomonggong Nikodemus, who was commissioned to deliver the
letter into the hands of Amai Kotong himself. At first he refused to
part with the missive, but after Dalim had informed him that he might
return whence he came, but that he could not see the chief of the
kotta, he altered his tone and gave the letter to Johannes. After
having perused its contents, the messenger was bidden to wait outside
where the answer would be brought to him.
The letter contained the request of the Colonel to be allowed to enter
the kotta unarmed, accompanied by Tomonggong Djaja Nagara and one
other, in order to have an interview with Amai Kotong. Johannes smiled
on reading this. But once inside the fort again, he called the garrison
together in the square, mounted the steps and read with a loud and
penetrating voice, looking solemnly at the paper, how the Commander of
Kwala Kapoeas, in the name of the Resident of Bandjermasin, ordered
Harimaoung Boekit with his Poenans to be delivered up to the gallows as
murderers. On hearing the pretended contents of the letter, a cry of
rage arose from all the assembled natives. The Poenan chief mounted the
steps to satisfy himself by looking at the horrible words which
pronounced his sentence. Johannes, after having allowed them for a few
moments to give vent to their feelings, commanded silence as he had
some further communications to make.
“I have not read all,” he said in a loud voice. “Listen, brothers, to
what follows: If these Poenans, those horrible murderers, are not
delivered up before sunset the inhabitants of kotta Djangkan will feel
the avenging arm of the Dutch Government. The kotta will be taken and
levelled to the ground. The soil on which it now stands will be dug up
and the priestesses will sow salt in the furrows as a token that the
spot will be accursed forever and ever by Mahatara.”
The cries of the multitude now became deafening.
As soon as Johannes saw another opportunity of being listened to, he
continued: “Attend! All the men will be killed and strung up like
animals; the old women and children will be sold as slaves, and the
maidens and young married women will be divided amongst the
assailants!”
Their rage became unbounded, and the wild band would have sped outside
and put the bearer of this fatal letter to the most horrible martyrdom,
but for the timely intervention of Johannes and his companions. They
placed themselves at the gate of the kotta and after much trouble
succeeded in convincing the enraged people of the innocence of the
messenger who was wholly ignorant of the contents of the document.
“No, friends!” Johannes exclaimed, “we must not answer this threat with
a murder. But it will be wise to show that we are no cowards.”
“I will go to the Commander myself!” Amai Kotong cried, “and explain
that I cannot possibly give up a member of my family; such a course
being quite against our moral teachings.”
“No,” Johannes said. “You would not be proof against the honeyed
language of a paleface. Besides, they will keep you a prisoner if you
don’t submit.”
“But what am I to do?”
“See here?”
And at the same time he tore the letter into a thousand pieces,
collected them in a pisang leaf and tied them up into a parcel.
“That is the way to return the letter to the Commander!” he exclaimed
victoriously.
A loud cry of satisfaction was the answer, proving again that whoever
has tact, may lead any assemblage as he wishes.
A few moments afterwards he placed the parcel into the messenger’s
hand, with command to deliver it to the Commander, at the same time
advising him never to return to the kotta with similar messages unless
he wished to be cut to pieces. The frightened native accepted the
parcel and hurried away from such dangerous quarters as fast as his
feet would carry him.
In the meantime the two Dayak chiefs were seated with the Colonel on
the trunk of a tree under a shed made of branches and leaves, and were
waiting for the return of their messenger. The Colonel seemed very
impatient; he stamped with his feet, drummed with his fingers on the
sheath of his sword, and distinctly showed that he had not yet acquired
the Eastern reserve so natural to his companions. At last he said:
“He is a long while coming, is he not?”
“It certainly is not far from here,” Tomonggong Nikodemus answered,
“but your honor must not forget how cautious our messengers have to
be.”
“But do you really fancy this letter will lead to the result you
expected?”
“Yes, sir! The inhabitants of the kotta will see no danger in admitting
the three of us unarmed inside their walls, and once there, we will
find no difficulty in persuading Amai Kotong to deliver up the
Europeans. The Chief will never risk the lives and property of the
whole of his tribe, in order to protect four deserters.”
“And yet their influence seems considerable, judging by our reception,”
was the bitter reply of the officer.
“I must own that it looks very suspicious; but who knows what tale they
have told those ignorant upper countrymen?”
“But will Amai Kotong be able to read the letter?”
“No, sir, he cannot read himself; but undoubtedly some one will be
found inside the kotta capable of deciphering it.”
“Did you know that the kotta was so heavily armed?”
“So heavily armed?” the Tomonggong asked in surprise.
“Certainly; I have just now observed through my glasses that the
battery carries six pieces of cannon, while, when I was here last year,
as you must remember, no sign of a gun could be discerned.”
“I certainly do remember it; but you seem to forget the guns of Kwala
Hiang, which the deserters must have carried away with them.”
“But at Kwala Hiang there were only two guns, while here I can count at
least six.”
“If such is the case, I am at a loss to find an explanation,” Nikodemus
answered with a sigh. “And yet I do not believe that the intentions of
kotta Djangkan, armed as it appears to be, are hostile towards the
Dutch Government, or we should have heard of it before now. Such
proceedings do not remain a secret in the Dayak country. These pieces
must have been conjured hither, unless the Commander is mistaken.”
“You doubt whether I have seen rightly,” was the passionate reply of
the Colonel. “I have even seen more than these guns. The principal
passages leading to the kotta are planted with spikes and rendered
impassable by pits, so that an assault is most difficult. All this has
taken time to accomplish and I very much fear that I have no reason to
be satisfied with some of my younger brothers. Speaking in the mildest
terms, they have been opposing their elder brother.”
Both Tomonggongs remained speechless for a few minutes, their emotion
being distinctly visible. The face of old Nikodemus displayed a feeling
of grief and pain, while that of the other was drawn into angry
wrinkles, his eyes rolling wildly and betraying the fearful passion
raging in his bosom.
“It is a great untruth!” he screamed, jumping up as if electrified.
Nikodemus, however, took him by the hand, compelling him to resume his
seat.
The Colonel witnessed this scene, which lasted for a few seconds only,
with some surprise. He felt that he had gone too far in his remarks.
Then ensued a painful silence—that silence which is more eloquent among
Eastern tribes than the most violent utterance. At last Nikodemus
spoke:
“The words spoken just now,” he said, with a deeply affected voice,
“were painful, but I am convinced they did not come from the heart. But
the Colonel forgets the deserters. I have not the least doubt but that
they have found a refuge at kotta Djangkan. How they have succeeded in
gaining the confidence of the people is a mystery to me. But everything
has taken place through their influence and it is they who have
supervised these operations.”
The Colonel reflected for a few minutes.
“Yes, they are brave boys,” he muttered inaudibly, “capable of
anything. Ah! I have not caught them yet.”
And turning to both chiefs he said, cordially offering them his hand,
“My younger brothers, you may be right. Pardon the anger I just now
displayed; but my heart was bitter. At that moment I thought of the
blood already spilled and yet to be spilled in consequence of this
dispute with kotta Djangkan.”
Both Tomonggongs bowed their heads and cordially pressed the offered
hand. The Dayak is never vindictive, and soon forgets and forgives if
only met half way.
They were still consulting together when the return of the messenger
was reported. They all arose, showing the greatest excitement. The
messenger respectfully handed his message to the Colonel, saying:
“This is for you, sir.”
The Colonel took the parcel, anxiously undid the string, opened the
pisang leaf and turned deathly pale when he saw the torn pieces of
paper which he recognized but too well.
“And what message did you bring with you?” he asked.
“Nothing but this: that whenever I dared to bring similar letters they
would cut me to pieces. On hearing that I ran away as fast as I could.”
“Who spoke to you?”
“A tall Dayak whom I did not recognize.”
“Have you seen any palefaces?”
“Not one, sir!”
“Did you speak to Amai Kotong?” Tomonggong Nikodemus asked.
“No, I was not admitted inside the kotta.”
“And to whom did you deliver the letter?”
“To Dalim, who accompanied by the Dayak came outside to hear what I
wanted.”
The Tomonggongs and the Colonel hereupon exchanged a glance.
“Then you did see Dalim?”
“Yes, sir!”
“And you spoke to him?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Why did you give the letter to him?” Nikodemus asked, “after I had
instructed you to give it to nobody else but Amai Kotong?”
“I did not wish to act in opposition to your orders, but Dalim told me
that I might return whence I came, that I would not be admitted inside
the kotta, nor could I see Amai Kotong. I thereupon handed him the
letter, hoping that the kotta Chief might come to me after reading it,
instead of which that tall blackguard reappeared and frightened me
terribly.”
“So you did not see anything?”
“No, sir! nothing; but after I had given your letter I heard somebody
reading out aloud. Then came loud and horrible cries from inside the
kotta. I also heard threats against you, against the Resident, against
the Government, as well as against myself and was on the point of
running away. After the cries had somewhat subsided, however, the tall
one handed me this parcel with instructions to give it to you.”
The Colonel exchanged looks of disappointment with the Tomonggongs. The
messenger at a given signal withdrew.
“The affair has not improved,” the Colonel said. “Are not you of the
same opinion?”
Both Tomonggongs nodded affirmatively.
“Can Dalim read?”
“No, sir!” was the answer of Nikodemus.
“It is quite clear that Amai Kotong has not been informed of the
contents of the letter, and that they have read something else to him
and the inhabitants of the kotta. Nevertheless we dare not hesitate.
The situation becomes more grave with each moment. Is such your opinion
also?”
“Yes, sir!” both Tomonggongs replied.
“I then propose to surprise the kotta to-night.”
“Only listen to me once more, sir!” Tomonggong Nikodemus said quietly.
“After the fight of this afternoon we must not dream of leading our
Dayaks against the kotta. It will take several days to remove the
impression of defeat, and I therefore earnestly implore you to postpone
the attack. Besides, its chances of success will be very poor indeed
with this clear moonlight, and it will certainly entail considerable
loss of life.”
“But what then, Tomonggong?” asked the Colonel.
The old Chief did not reply at once. He reflected, sighed, and placing
his hand on the shoulder of the Colonel, said:
“Listen! I will go!”