CREMATION—THE SLAUGHTER OF PRISONERS OF WAR—A PRISONER OF WAR
SAVED—COUNCIL OF WAR—SCARCITY OF WATER—HAMADOE THIRSTY—WIENERSDORF
ATTACKED BY AN ORANG OUTANG—ON THE KAHAJAN—A BLOODY
BATTLE—SCHLICKEISEN LOST.
Next morning all the inhabitants of the kotta, as well as the Poenans
and Kapoeasese, were busy preparing for the burning of the bodies of
those fallen companions who did not belong to kotta Hamiak. A
sanggarang, or richly-carved flag-staff, was erected in the centre of
the square of the fortification. A wooden bird with its wings extended
was fixed on the top of the mast, and immediately below the bird an
earthen pot with its bottom cut out was suspended. Under this pot a
piece of wood was nailed to the sanggarang, extending five or six
inches on each side of it, and to this eleven lances were tied, spread
out like a fan. These were to represent the number of bodies, not
counting Amai Mawong and the Sirattese, whose funeral would take place
later. The Dayak believes that the souls of the sanggarang, of the
bird, the pot, and the lances, when in the kingdom of souls, are
transformed into numerous necessaries for the use of the deceased.
As the deceased had fallen by the hand of their enemy, a triangular
pole was planted at the side of the sanggarang, crowned with a skull of
one of their foes. On the sides of the pole they had made seven oblique
notches to receive sticks projecting about four inches, upon which
curiously folded palm-leaves were hung as ornaments.
In front of these masts were erected the sapoendoes, those fatal posts
to which the prisoners were to be tied, while in front of these again a
large mound of earth was heaped up four feet high, eight feet wide, and
fifteen feet long. After the soil had been thoroughly stamped down, the
pamahei, funeral pyre, was built on the top of it, consisting of
alternate layers of dry wood and small baskets of rosin.
All the preparations being complete, the inhabitants of the kotta
gathered around the pyre and the bodies of those fallen were arranged
on the top of it clad in their full war costumes. The rosin at the
bottom layer was ignited and thick clouds of smoke followed by great
flames soon shot up high into the air. The prisoners of war were now
fetched from their cages and tied to the sapoendoes. Their aspect
betokened the deepest misery. Their matted hair fell around their
shoulders and the ewahs which formed their only garments were hanging
from their loins in tatters. For the rest, their appearance was calm
and peaceful; not defiant, but yet not downcast. As soon as they were
tied to their respective stakes the priestesses began their
incantations as a sign that all was ready for the commencement of the
degrading ceremony.
Some of the men posted themselves near the pyre and blew poisoned
arrows into the rising smoke to disperse evil spirits, but the majority
of them made a wide circle around the poor victims. High up among the
trees a number of hungry vultures had collected with an instinctive
knowledge of what was going to take place.
Amai Kotong now stepped forward; he raised his lance and slightly
wounded the first of the prisoners in the shoulder. He was followed by
Harimaoung Boekit, the Poenans, Kapoeasese and Sirattese, each of whom
in his turn gave a prick and passed on to make room for others to
succeed. When all had had their turns the same order was resumed and
the round recommenced. The blood flowed abundantly and as it congealed
in large clots was eagerly devoured from time to time by the vultures.
The intense agony felt by the martyr elicited not a single cry from
him, but the descent of the birds to devour his blood seemed to cause
him the most poignant anguish. That he should behold while living the
fate that awaited him after death was a martyrdom so terrible, so
inhuman, that only the imagination of fiends could have conceived it.
It was hard enough to be fastened to a stake unable to defend himself
from certain death, while full of vital power and clinging to dear life
despite its trials and miseries. But to be reminded of the inevitable
by every thrust of the lance, by each descent of the vultures upon his
oozing life’s blood, formed a climax of anguish that must have wrung
the heart of the sufferer. Nevertheless, though exhibiting signs of
mental perturbation, he stoically abstained from uttering a sound to
gladden the souls of his tormentors. At last there came an end to his
martyrdom; death supervening from loss of blood. His executioners then
quitted him to repeat the same operations upon their next victim,
leaving his still warm body hanging in its fetters to stiffen on the
stake.
Now came the turn of the vultures and a scene ensued too horrible to
depict. Seven more human bodies were massacred that day with the same
tortures and under the same terrible circumstances.
The four Europeans, anxious to escape from this horrible scene, had at
first sought refuge in a corner of the square remote from the place of
execution, but the wind brought to them the sickening fumes of the
burning flesh; they then removed to a shed on the opposite side, where
they tried to divert their attention from the horrors then in progress
by cleaning and repairing their own rifles as well as those used by the
Dayaks. Alas! those horrors they were powerless to prevent.
Johannes with a great deal of trouble had succeeded in begging the life
of one of the wounded Doessonese, who was accordingly spared and given
to him as his own hireling. He was a youth of about twenty, of quiet
appearance, but displaying great firmness of character. He had only
received a slight scalp wound, but being stunned he found himself
locked up a prisoner of war. When released he was at first shy and
frightened. He could not understand how any one should be so interested
in him as to spare his life and wish to save him, all from a feeling of
compassion. But after the four Europeans had spoken to him in a
friendly and encouraging manner, when he saw how carefully they dressed
his wound and shared their food with him, the icy crust of his reserve
gave way, rendering him both curious and communicative. He asked
several questions, all of which Johannes frankly answered. After having
fully gained the confidence of the prisoner they learned from him that
Soerapatti with twelve hundred men had started from soengei Lahej,
first to take revenge upon Amai Mawong and then to ravage the Kapoeas
and Kahajan districts with fire and sword. He had left his son Goesti
Kornel in charge of two hundred warriors before kotta Hamiak, with
strict injunctions to destroy that fortification and to bring him the
skull of its chief. He himself with the other part of his army had
advanced upon the Kahajan, the first object of his journey being to
attack kotta Oepon, whose chief was Tomonggong Toendan, one of his
principal enemies. The prisoner further informed Johannes that several
of Soerapatti’s warriors were armed with rifles, and that he also
carried three or four pieces of artillery, captured some years before
from the Dutch.
All these were important communications not to be neglected. When
evening had set in and most of the male inhabitants of the kotta were
seated together, dissecting the skulls of the slaughtered prisoners of
war, Johannes presented the spared Doessonner with a mandauw, gave him
a basketful of provisions, conducted him outside the fortification,
pointed toward the east, pressed his hand cordially and set him free.
The Doessonner did not need to be told twice that he was at liberty,
but taking the hand of his benefactor he placed it on his own head and
bent his neck before him in silent reverence. Then without hesitation
he made his way towards the thick wood, in which he soon disappeared
like a ghost. Johannes now re-entered the fortification and immediately
summoned Amai Kotong, Harimaoung Boekit and the son of Amai Mawong to
inform them of what he had heard and to consider what was now to be
done. His reports awakened the utmost alarm, for the route taken by the
Doessonese was exactly that which Harimaoung Boekit intended to follow
himself. They found that they must alter their plans entirely.
“The course we have to follow is quite clear to me,” said Harimaoung
Boekit. “Going forward we shall either meet with the chief army of our
enemies or with one of its flanks. Now we are much too weak to think of
meeting them in the field.”
“Is there no way out of the difficulty?” Johannes asked.
“Yes; to get ahead of the Doessonese,” was Harimaoung’s reply.
“Would that be possible?”
“Yes; with a great deal of speed and exertion. You see,” continued the
Poenan, pointing towards the west, “soengei Miri lies over there, but
we’ll have to go in that direction,” indicating the south-west. “We
will follow soengei Sirat until it reaches soengei Mantarat, then sail
up the latter as far as the kotta of that name. We will then disembark,
drag the rangkans over land into soengei Minjangan, where we will set
them afloat and sail down the stream into the Kahajan.”
“Beautifully planned,” cried Johannes. “But first of all what is the
distance between soengei Mantarat and soengei Minjangan?”
“When a person bathes in the former, his hair will not have dried when
he reaches the latter.”
“Yes, yes,” said Johannes smiling. “I know that calculation of time.
Your long hair tied in a firm knot and protected by a head-dress in the
bargain does not dry very rapidly. Let us assume that it would take
five or six hours. What is the character of the country we should have
to traverse?”
“It is very rugged and steep, but not difficult. I have frequently
travelled the entire distance. Once arrived at Boekit Riwoet we
gradually descend.”
“But shall we arrive at Oepon Batoe before Tomonggong Soerapatti?”
“That is not quite certain; perhaps we shall if we make haste.”
“Suppose we find Oepon Batoe already besieged?”
“Naughe,” I don’t care, was the easy reply of the Poenan. “I will call
together the tribes of the Upper Kahajan and then we will see who cries
king.”
“If that is the case we must not lose an hour,” Johannes decided.
“To-morrow morning at daybreak we must be on our journey again.”
The Poenans and Kapoeasese when under the controlling influence of the
Europeans were very punctual.
As soon as daylight began to appear in the east the camp was in
commotion, and half an hour afterwards the rangkans left the shore. The
inhabitants of kotta Hamiak, with tears in their eyes, took leave of
the friendly travellers who had arrived so opportunely to aid and
succor them in their recent extremity.
The journey up the mouth of the soengei Mantarat, which they reached
about ten o’clock, was not very eventful. The rangkans sailed up the
rivulet and reached the kotta shortly after noon. There nothing
whatever was known about the enemy.
Our travellers occupied themselves in making six wooden rollers
wherewith to facilitate the transit of their rangkans over the hills
dividing the Kapoeas and the Kahajan. They then selected six of the
strongest and largest vessels, partly unloaded them, pulled them on
shore and placed them on the rollers. That effected, they loaded them
again, adding as much of the cargo of the canoes to be left behind as
they could conveniently receive. They also prepared large ropes of
rattan and other creepers to be used as cables. By the time all these
preparations were completed, evening had set in, and worn out with
fatigue everybody retired to rest, under the protection of the
sentries.
At daybreak the journey was continued; the number of men capable of
bearing arms now amounting to seventy-two. Johannes arranged his men,
directing ten of them armed with their rifles to serve as an advance
guard. Then followed the six rangkans, each impelled by nine strong
pairs of arms. Behind these came the women and children, protected by
eight men carrying rifles and forming the rear guard. At first the
travelling colony advanced rather rapidly. But the slopes became
steeper and more rugged and the difficulties greater in consequence,
especially as the heat of the day became more intense. There were times
when they were forced to pause, panting for breath. Worst of all were
the insects, such as beetles, ants, and other nuisances against which
they had to battle. Everybody was completely exhausted.
In the middle of the afternoon, after surmounting a considerable
eminence which by its steepness had greatly fatigued the travellers,
Harimaoung informed them that with this height their greatest
difficulty had been overcome. But no one could be coaxed into moving a
step further; they all longed for rest. They therefore resolved to seek
shelter in a small wood situated at the top of the hill and to pass the
night there. But before they could retire to rest Johannes ordered the
six rangkans to be arranged in the shape of a hexagon, enclosing a
space large enough to contain the whole company. He also had some young
trees cut down to form along the corners of this artificial palisade a
barricade which it would be difficult to penetrate.
The women busied themselves in preparing dinner, stimulated by the
appetites of their lords and masters. But when they came to wash and
boil their rice, the staple constituent of a Dayak meal, water was
wanted. No one had thought of this. From the moment they had left
soengei Mantarat not a single brook or rivulet or spring had been met
with. They were in a sad strait, when a few Dayaks and Poenans, acting
on their instinct, penetrated the wilderness whence they soon brought
some pitcher-plant cups containing the purest water.
This treasure trove was received with loud acclamations, for everyone
was thirsty and wished to refresh himself with a hearty draught. But
the quantity was insufficient for boiling the rice. They would have to
be satisfied with some dried fish, and for the rest they must pull
their waistbands a little tighter and in that way control their
appetites. Very few bright faces were seen, the children especially
clamoring for food and exclaiming how hungry they were.
Dalim, who as a miner at Pengaron and Kalangan had gained considerable
experience, took his mandauw and disappeared in the adjacent forest,
whence after a short absence he returned carrying a large parcel
wrapped in leaves.
Having reëntered the enclosure he squatted himself down, spread a few
leaves in front of him, opened his parcel and produced a dark-gray
substance not unlike dirty pipe-clay. When Harimaoung Boekit saw it he
exclaimed, “Ramon petak kinan,” eatable soil, and seating himself near
Dalim commenced to share his meal. They both seemed to enjoy the
strange food as a welcome addition to their ration of fish. They then
called the children and gave them each a large slice to allay their
hunger. The Poenans, learning from Dalim where he had obtained his
supply, sped thither in all haste to return soon with provision for the
whole company. The two Swiss and the Walloon looked at this peculiar
food with great suspicion, but when they saw Johannes take kindly to it
and heard from him that it was a species of edible soil, their
appetites urged them to try it. Although not absolutely pleasant to
eat, being almost tasteless, it could not be considered disgusting. A
few grains of salt and a sprinkling of pepper assisted deglutition.
They could not eat much of it, however, as it was rather indigestible.
The meal being cleared away the Europeans remained chatting about the
wonderful island whose very soil is food for man. The learned
Wienersdorf, holding a piece in his hand, broke out in the following
explanation: “Ramon petak kinan is an amorphous substance, very brittle
and easily pulverized. See, it can be cut with a knife and its incised
surface exhibits a scaly structure of a spongy dark-brown color. It has
a faint bituminous smell and adheres to the lips. Its taste—”
“We have learned,” interrupted La Cueille, “and it is not very
pleasant. In the name of the saints, cease your prating. It is enough
to turn one sea-sick. Nom d’une pipe! how provoking these savants are!
You had better tell us whether we shall have to eat this stuff much
longer.”
“No, no! my worthy Walloon,” said Johannes, “you will have to eat it
only once more for breakfast. I hope by this time to-morrow we shall be
encamped at soengei Minjangan, where our women will be able to boil
their rice as usual.”
“Thank heaven!” La Cueille muttered. “Only fancy being compelled to
consume this muck for several days.”
“You would not get thinner, I assure you. On the contrary it would give
your skin a fine glossy appearance. Hence they frequently mix it with
the food of horses and dogs.”
In the meantime the day was drawing to a close. The sun was gradually
disappearing behind the margin of the forest when Hamadoe beckoned
Wienersdorf to come to her. She was suffering intensely from thirst and
begged her lover to procure her some water. Wienersdorf, accompanied by
La Cueille and Dalim, entered the forest to seek more of the
pitcher-plants with their valuable contents. In order to gather as many
as possible, they separated from each other to prosecute an independent
search. As a means of communication they were to call and respond to
each other with the cry of the takakak. Their quest proved most
successful. In a very short time each had found ten cups. Wienersdorf
had already given the original taaaaak kakākākāk, when something
weighty fell from a tree just in front of him. He stooped to see what
it was and to his astonishment perceived, lying in the tall grass, what
looked like a hideous child covered with red hair. It did not move, but
remained rolled up like a huge ball: its legs drawn together, its face
peering from between its elbows, and its stomach protruding above its
contracted knees. He at once concluded that it was a monkey.
“It is rather a large one though,” he muttered.
While stooping over the animal he felt something jump on his back and
grasp him by the neck. Then came a rapid succession of blows, as if
administered by a professional cudgeller.
“Himmelskreuz donnerwetter!” exclaimed the Swiss, terrified.
He endeavored to rise but was unable to do so; the load on his back was
too heavy and the hand at his throat squeezed like a vise. All his
efforts to shake off his assailant proved ineffectual. The cudgelling
continued with increased force. At length his strength gave way.
Breathless and nearly suffocated he just had power enough to cry:
“In God’s name, help.” Then he sank down and became insensible.
Upon recovering consciousness he saw the solemn face of La Cueille, who
was bathing his forehead and temples with the contents of the cups.
When the Walloon saw him open his eyes he uttered a shriek of joy.
Wienersdorf extended his hand to him. The Walloon seized it and pulled
him up on his legs. The Swiss was unhurt: his limbs were sound, though
sore from the thrashing. At a little distance from him lay his
assailant, whom Dalim was busy tying.
The Dayak and the Walloon upon first hearing the cries of the Swiss had
hurried to his aid, and upon seeing the struggle in progress Dalim had
exclaimed in accents of terror:
“Kahio!”
He immediately cut a large branch, made it into a cudgel and requested
La Cueille to do the same. They then approached the fighters as quickly
as possible and Dalim began to belabor Wienersdorf’s assailant with all
his might. The ape had not before observed their approach, but he now
left the Swiss and made for his new enemies, cudgel in hand. The fight
did not last long, but yet long enough to prove that, armed with the
most original weapon, man was not equal to the animal, which, like a
trained fencer, avoided the blows of his opponents, and succeeded in
regaling them with a thrashing they would long remember. At last Dalim
managed to catch hold of the stick of the monkey and grasped it firmly.
La Cueille, who up till now had been unable to join in the combat,
owing to the rapidity of the movements of the combatants, then dealt
the monkey a blow on the head which rendered him insensible
immediately.
“Kahio!” Dalim cried again, pointing to the animal.
“Orang outang!” La Cueille said.
“Kahio!” the Dayak repeated.
“Orang outang!”
This quarrel was only brought to an end by Wienersdorf who now began to
move about, groaning slightly. The ape also commenced to move and tried
to rise. But Dalim threw himself upon the animal, dealt it a few more
blows, and finally tied its hands and feet. Wienersdorf in the meantime
had gained his legs, assisted as we have seen by La Cueille. Many of
their cups of water had been spilled, trodden upon, or run empty, but
they managed to save the valuable contents of about twenty. They now
resumed their return journey, taking the animal with them.
They found that she was the mother of the young monkey which had fallen
out of the tree before their battle, for as soon as they were brought
near each other the little one hastened to seek its natural refreshment
from the udders of the imprisoned animal.
At sunrise the fatiguing journey was resumed. The travellers had now to
draw the rangkans over a range of hills, which did not take long. This
done, the country became less rugged and they consequently proceeded
much more rapidly. The slopes grew more gentle and the vegetation
assumed a character which interposed little difficulty to their
progress. Travelling being thus much easier the party was able to reach
the borders of soengei Minjangan in the afternoon. But the day was
already too far advanced for the immediate resumption of the journey,
as the navigation of the rapid stream might be perilous after dark.
They therefore made preparations for an early start in the morning, and
went to their needed rest.
When travel was resumed next day the rangkans almost flew onwards.
While passing down cataracts especially, their speed was terrific, for
besides the rapidity of the stream in these parts, the helmsmen urged
the rowers to exert their utmost vigor as necessary for the safe
steering of the vessels over those seething waters. Amid loud yells one
rangkan after another shot down the rapids, frightening the Europeans
to death. The thought of possibly coming in contact with the rocks
rising from the waters at almost every point caused them to shudder.
But the helms were in safe hands, the oarsmen were wary and obedient,
and the vessels safely reached the Kahajan River.
It was now about mid-day, and steering due north the rangkans at once
sailed up this magnificent stream. At about three the travellers
reached kotta Dewa, where Amai Kotong and Harimaoung Boekit landed.
They found all in the greatest confusion, for an invasion by Tomonggong
Soerapatti had just been reported. This intelligence determined them to
travel all night, as the moon was shining brightly and there would be
no danger in a nocturnal voyage over the broad and slowly moving
stream.
It was about eight in the morning when the travellers saw, far away on
the left hand, rising perpendicularly from the bed of the river, a
colossal rock with a rounded top. This was the end of their night’s
journey. The rangkans, though propelled by the utmost exertions of the
oarsmen, proceeded but slowly through the foaming waves which dashed
against the perpendicular sides of the rock, here four hundred feet
high. As soon as they had passed a little beyond the western side,
there was a basin with a white sandy bottom, in which a tomoi had been
built as a landing-place for canoes. Upon approaching the travellers
observed three large rangkans already moored at this pier. They were
empty; their caretakers having taken to flight upon seeing the strange
vessels. But their appearance was sufficient to create a panic among
the travellers.
“Olo Doesson, olo Doesson!” men from the Doesson, they exclaimed,
causing no little confusion among the women and children. Harimaoung
Boekit, however, addressed a few words to them and succeeded in calming
their agitation. The women and children were all removed to two of the
rangkans and their places in the vacated boats occupied by men. The
rangkans containing the women, who by the way could manage the oars
with equal facility, crossed over to the right bank and floated down
the river some distance. The other two rangkans carrying the armed men
including our Europeans landed at the tomoi. Not a soul was to be seen
there. They cautiously examined the small buildings but could find
nothing. The men now carefully entered the path and made their way up a
steep clay hill in which there were occasional depressions. At last
they caught sight of the rock upon which the kotta was situated. About
fifty paces further they came upon a party of sixty Doessonese grouped
together and engaged in an attempt to climb up to the plateau upon
which the kotta was built. Against the rock there were several lofty
trees, and in them notches had been cut to form a primitive staircase,
up which about twenty men were mounting to the upper edge of the cliff.
When Johannes, who had again assumed the command, saw this troop he
ordered his men to halt and to direct a platoon fire into the midst of
the group. The two Swiss followed their old tactics, carefully saving
their ammunition for more opportune moments. La Cueille and Johannes
opened fire upon the climbers, carefully selecting those who had
mounted the highest. The result was astonishing. Those who fell bore
down all beneath them in their fall. The consternation thus caused
became further increased when the unerring bullets of those two
marksmen were sent in the midst of the gathered Doessonese, among whom
they did more damage than all the noisy shooting of the Dayaks, and a
large number of dead and wounded men soon covered the ground. After the
first moments of surprise the most courageous amongst the Doessonese
stepped forward intending to throw themselves upon their assailants,
but as they approached a vigorous rifle fire shot them down. They then
made a desperate assault, some of them actually landing amongst their
besiegers, but the two Swiss soon settled their fate with their
repeating rifles. The havoc caused by these rapid and successive shots
made a lane through the ranks of the Doessonese, separating the
foremost warriors from the main body. A terrible panic now seized them.
Wild with terror and despair they hurried down a path which led to the
edge of a precipice forming part of the chief rock overhanging the
river. The fugitives here came to a momentary pause, but when the rifle
fire sounded behind them in all its fury they threw themselves headlong
into the river, with the view of swimming to the opposite bank. Many of
them were drowned, while those who escaped a watery grave were
afterwards followed and hunted down like wild animals.
After this drama had been played out the Poenans and Kapoeassers were
about to decapitate the dead as well as the wounded Doessonese, when
suddenly a fearful yelling was heard from the top of the rock. Although
nothing could be seen, Harimaoung Boekit assured his friends that he
knew perfectly well what was going on above. The Doessonese were making
the chief attack on the eastern side with the main body of their army,
but in order to compel their enemy to divide their forces had planned
the scaling of the rock on the northern side by a comparatively small
number of braves. This bold feat would have certainly proved
successful, but for the accident which brought the adventurers just to
the very spot.
Johannes hereupon led his men to a prompt execution of the plan he had
formed to aid the defenders. He threw his rifle across his shoulders
and began to climb the notched trees, which gave access to the upper
edge of the rock from that side. The Kapoeassers and Poenans followed
him, uttering deafening hurrahs, and in less than a moment they were
seen dangling between heaven and earth, high above the abyss. After
this difficult scaling, which took them about half an hour to
accomplish, the valiant climbers were all at the top. Schlickeisen,
whose wound forbade all exertion, had exchanged his Remington for the
rifle of La Cueille and joined by four Dayaks who had been severely
wounded, now returned to the rangkans.
As soon as Johannes was at the top he collected his men, tired as they
were, and spoke a few words of encouragement. The wooden palisades
which protected the kotta on that side were not high, because any
attack from that direction was improbable. Johannes therefore leaped
over the low barrier accompanied by Harimaoung Boekit to survey the
kotta and ascertain the position of affairs. A heavy battle was in
progress on the east of the fortification. The besieged were defending
themselves desperately against an enormous number of Doessonese, and
were so busy in conflict that he and the Poenan had been able to enter
unobserved. In a single moment he saw the critical position of the
garrison. Not a shot was fired here; everything was done with the naked
sword. The assailants had already climbed the palisades at certain
points and secured a firm footing on the ramparts. The most desperate
effort to drive them back proved utterly ineffectual. New assailants
were arriving every moment and they would soon be strong enough to
throw themselves bodily in the interior of the kotta, when the doom of
the garrison would be speedily sealed by the outnumbering hosts of the
enemy. Johannes therefore hurried back to summon his companions, while
the Poenan chief boldly advanced to attack the assailants and thus
convey to the inhabitants the information that help was near. Suddenly
a shot was heard and a Doessonese who was just appearing above the
palisades to leap inside the kotta, fell backwards mortally wounded. A
second and third shared the same fate. The Europeans, like fate’s
inexorable executioner, shot every Doessonner whose head appeared above
the palisades. In the meantime the other Kapoeassers had signalled the
inhabitants to clear the way for them to operate, and a heavy and
continuous rifle fire was discharged amongst the troop of invaders who
still retained their defiant position on the ramparts. Volley after
volley was poured in, and a sortie made by the besieged to attack the
flank of the enemy. The invaders wavered and dispersed; the vast army
of Soerapatti flying down the hill to collect and rally at its base.
The withdrawal of the besiegers gave the Europeans time and opportunity
to survey their position. Kotta Oepon Batoe might be called strong,
nay, very strong, against a native enemy. With proper vigilance it was
almost unassailable on two sides. The plateau upon which it was built
was naturally divided by a cranny in the soil into two parts. A
crystalline spring arose from this cranny, the water of which, rushing
down the hollow, formed a foaming and turbulent torrent. For the rest,
the whole plateau was bestrewn with huge blocks of rocks. Two of these
especially drew the attention of La Cueille. They were enormous tabular
stones, flat, but very massive, situated about a few yards from each
other. Each of these rested upon a much smaller stone of a globular
form, supported in such a manner that the whole of this colossal mass
might be set in oscillation at the slightest pressure of the hand. The
Walloon thought this very peculiar, pressed and pressed again, but
could not account for the mobility of the huge piles. He stooped down
and saw that both stones were elevated about three feet above the
ground. He further noticed that they stood outside the ramparts,
immediately on the edge of the plateau above the slope of the hollow
just described. He bent over the edge of the declivity, but only saw a
vast funnel-shaped shaft, through which the torrent streamed downwards.
An idea struck him; he called Johannes, whispered a few words in his
ears and both set to work to roll a large boulder underneath each of
the two movable stones. Thus the two oscillating colossal masses were
firmly supported. They then excavated the soil beneath these stones,
filled the holes thus made with about twenty pounds of gunpowder
obtained from the chief of the kotta, and having inserted a fuse they
closed the mines with heavy lumps of rocks. This done, La Cueille led
his port-fire between the palisades to the interior of the kotta, where
he concealed it under a couple of fagots.
They had barely finished these preparations when a deafening noise
announced the renewal of the attack by the courageous besiegers who
were shortly seen rapidly mounting the heights from the eastern side.
The rifles were speedily discharged, but the enemy being well covered
by the edge of the hill the result was trifling. In less than a moment
they had appeared above the plateau and commenced the storming of the
fort, utterly defiant of death. It was a real troop of heroes. But all
their bravery could not break down the defence. Each head as it
appeared above the palisades served as a target, and if occasionally a
single one escaped from the well-aimed bullets to succeed in leaping
into the enceinte, he was met by the lances and mandauws and
mercilessly killed. In the meantime the rifle fire was uninterruptedly
sustained through the loop-holes and caused heavy losses among the
assailants. These still persevered, determined not to give way,
displaying a devotion worthy of a better cause. Encouraging each other
and hurling contemptuous epithets at the besieged, they mounted the
parapet again and again, always with the same fatal result.
While the whole garrison of the kotta were devoting their attention to
the repulse of this attack, La Cueille, who seemed to have his own
plans, was directing his regards to another point. His bullets were
still speeding forth, but his thoughts were elsewhere directed. At last
he fancied that he heard some noise on the north side. He then quickly
repaired to the exterior of the kotta, crept like a snake along the
plateau as far as its edge, and looking over saw a dense mass of men
silently mounting the hill through the cranny. He had guessed rightly;
the real danger lay here. The assault from the other side was only a
feint, a brave sacrifice of heroes, in order to give their companions
time and opportunity to accomplish their chief attack. As quietly as he
had gone, La Cueille crept back, called Johannes and Wienersdorf, and
ran to the kitchen to get a piece of burning charcoal, with which he
set fire to the match. For a moment only, the Europeans saw the spark
run along the ground to disappear through the palisades. They waited
impatiently, but saw nothing more. The foremost of the enemies were
already visible from the edge of the plateau. These leaped up, followed
by others, until a hundred men were assembled on the top. Merciful
Heavens! could the port-fire have become extinguished? that would be
terrible. The Europeans opened fire upon the besiegers, but the number
of the enemy became larger every moment, and they began to distribute
themselves all over the plateau. The situation was becoming perilous,
when, hark! there was a report so loud, so terrific, that for a moment
besieged as well as besiegers stood motionless and horror-stricken. A
fearful tongue of flame shot up from the ground as if a crater were
opened; a thick cloud of smoke mounted to the sky, and one of the
oscillating stones, lifted as if by magic, was seen to rise, drop from
its support, topple over, and disappear thundering down the abyss.
Before the assailants had time to account for this phenomenon, a second
explosion took place and also hurled the other stony mass to the
bottom. La Cueille’s mines, well laid and efficiently charged, had
succeeded wonderfully. The huge piles rolling down the declivity caused
terrible havoc among the climbers, dispersing them like chaff before
the wind. Those already at the top fled in terror, their panic
extending to the army engaged in the feigned movement on the eastern
side. The terrible destruction of their brethren filled them with
consternation and led to the abandonment of their siege.
When the defenders of the kotta were able to estimate their losses they
discovered that they had suffered considerably. Fourteen of the
Kahajannese were found dead among a much greater number of Doessonese,
and nearly twice as many were wounded. Not one of them hesitated to
admit that, but for the timely arrival of our travellers, the result
would have been immensely more fatal. La Cueille especially came in for
a large share of admiration. He was a man who could dispose of thunder
and lightning, making them rise from the earth to hurl upon their
enemies mighty rocks which could only be lifted by Sangiangs. The
Walloon, not being of a proud disposition, took this admiration with
becoming modesty, though he was by no means disinclined to pose as a
hero.
The Poenan chief now sent a couple of warriors to hail the rangkans
which contained the women, while Johannes and a few Dayaks descended by
means of the notched trees to fetch Schlickeisen and the four invalid
Dayaks. Arriving below at the landing-place of the tomoi, they found
that the rangkans in which their friend had been left, had disappeared.
Four decapitated bodies of the Kapoeassers were lying on the bank, half
in the water, with Schlickeisen’s gun near them, but of the Swiss
himself there was not a trace.