Some months had gone by since the day of my first arrival in Kuching
and, odd as it may seem, Europe and all its ways were relegated as it
were to an almost imperceptible background in my memory. The charm of
the people, the wonderful beauty of the country, the spaciousness,
and the absence of anything like conventionality, all enchanted me.
Moreover, the people were my own, and every day that passed--and I am
not ashamed to own it--little by little I lost some of my European
ideas, and became more of a mixture between a Dyak and a Malay. The
extraordinary idea which English people entertain as to an insuperable
bar existing between the white and coloured races, even in those days
of my youth, appeared to me to be absurd and nonsensical. Here were
these people, with hardly any ideas of the ways of Europeans, who came
to me as though they were my own brothers and sisters. They must have
thought some of my ways curious and strange, but instead of finding
fault with them, they gave way to me in everything. I suppose they
saw how ready I was to care for them and consider them as members of
my family, and as the country became more familiar to me, little by
little, much as when one develops photographic plates, some hitherto
unperceived trait in their character came out and charmed me.
[Illustration: MAIL STEAMERS’ WHARF AND TRADING VESSELS AT ANCHOR NEAR
EMBANKMENT IN KUCHING BAZAAR]
I wish I could give a description of our home in Kuching as it appeared
to me then and as I think of it now. How I delighted in those many
hours spent on the broad verandah of our house, watching the life going
on in the little town the other side of the river. I think I have
said before that at high tide the breadth of the river where it runs
under the banks of our garden is as broad as the Thames at Westminster
Bridge. The little town looked so neat and fresh and prosperous
under the careful jurisdiction of the Rajah and his officers, that
it reminded me of a box of painted toys kept scrupulously clean by a
child. The Bazaar runs for some distance along the banks of the river,
and this quarter of the town is inhabited almost entirely by Chinese
traders, with the exception of one or two Hindoo shops. The Chinese
shops look very much like those in small towns on the Italian Lakes.
Groceries of exotic kinds are laid out on tables near the pavement,
from which purchasers make their choice. At the Hindoo shops you can
buy silks from India, sarongs from Java, tea from China, and tiles
and porcelain from all parts of the world, laid out in picturesque
confusion, and overflowing into the street. Awnings from the shops
and brick archways protect purchasers from the sun, whilst across
the road all kinds of boats are anchored, bringing produce from the
interior of Sarawak, from the Dutch Settlement, from Singapore, and
from adjacent islands; these boats are picturesque in the extreme.
The Chinese junks were always a delight to me, with their orange and
tawny sails drying in the sun, and the large “eyes” painted in the bows
to enable the vessels to see their way during their journeys. Dutch
schooners with their horizontally striped flag of blue, white, and red
are to be seen, and English, French, and Siamese flags also fluttered
amongst the many masts carrying the Sarawak colours. The most important
portion of the Bazaar lay behind the wharf, where the mail steamer was
moored, then bringing mails every ten days from Singapore. The Chinese
houses of the Bazaar are decorated with coloured porcelains; one sees
green dragons, pink lotuses, little gods and goddesses in grotesque
attitudes, all along their fronts. The roofs are of red tiles, some
of these being higher than the rest and having the curious Chinese
termination at each end, thus breaking the line and making it more
picturesque. Behind the Bazaar rise a succession of hills, on which are
situated European bungalows surrounded by pleasant gardens of flowers
and fruit. The houses with their white walls and green and white
painted blinds make a charming accessory to the background of forest
trees. Churches of the different denominations stand out prominently in
the landscape, for all Faiths enjoy the same privileges and freedom at
the hands of the Sarawak Government. One sees the Roman Catholic and
Protestant churches, Chinese temples marvellously decorated, Hindoo
shrines, and Muhammadan mosques. Right opposite to the Palace stands
the gaol and court-house, the latter a broad, low building with a
castellated tower at its entrance. The Malay town lies towards the
west, along the banks of the river, and beyond the town stretch miles
and miles of flat forest land.
When I was in Kuching, it seemed to me that the machinery of life was
moved by clockwork, the Rajah being the most punctual man alive. At
five o’clock in the morning, just before daybreak (we must remember
that in those latitudes there is scarcely any difference in the
length of days), a gun was fired from the Fort, at which signal the
Rajah jumped out of bed. Wishing to do the same as the Rajah, the
Europeans, Malays, Dyaks, and Chinese jumped out of bed too. One had
to dress and bathe by lamplight, and just as one came out to drink
one’s morning tea, the sun rose. At six o’clock, Kuching was fairly
astir, and the Rajah and I used to go across in our boat (for there
is no bridge anywhere over the river) to the landing-place below the
court-house, where our horses were awaiting us. Mounting our animals
was occasionally fraught with difficulty. Our Syces (grooms) in Sarawak
were mostly recruited from the Buyan people of an island off Java, who
are extraordinarily sympathetic in their treatment of animals. For
instance, my pony had been bought in Labuan, chosen from out a herd of
wild ponies which roam about the plains of that more northern portion
of Borneo. The pony had never been broken in properly, according to our
European ideas of what a horse’s perfect manners should be, and very
often as I approached to mount the animal (he was only about thirteen
and a half hands high) he would turn round and round. I would say to
the Syce, “Try and keep him still,” whereupon the Syce would reply,
“He doesn’t want to keep still!” Therefore so long as it suited the
pony to turn round and round, the Syce turned round and round too. It
generally took some time before the pony became amenable, when I would
seize the moment and scramble on to his back as best I could. This kind
of thing went on nearly every morning before I started for my ride. In
those days, with the exception of a few paths in and out of the town,
there was only one well-made road extending for about a mile and a half
into the country. Up and down this road, the Rajah and I pounded on our
horses for the necessary exercise which every one must take, whether in
or out of the tropics.
On coming home, we found the gateway into the Palace full of all sorts
of people--Malays, Dyaks, and Chinese--anxious to see the Rajah. The
Rajah never refused to see any one, and after hearing their complaints,
he dismissed them kindly with a few words of advice. The motley morning
crowd always reminded me of pictures in the Bible stories of my
childhood, for there were turbaned Hajis in their flowing robes, women
draped in dingy folds of cotton from head to foot, youths, maidens, and
sometimes little children, crawling, walking, running, or jumping down
the path after their interviews, but whether chieftains or beggars,
Seripas or women of a lower class, there was always an innate dignity
belonging to these people; they could not look common or vulgar however
much they might try to do so.
This business over, the Rajah issued forth from the Astana with the
yellow satin umbrella held over him by the redoubtable Subu. Four Malay
chiefs, dressed in flowing robes and holding their golden-knobbed
sticks, accompanied him to the Court, where five days in the week
the Rajah dispensed justice from 8 to 10.30. a.m. A retinue of young
men and boys, who had paddled the chiefs to the Palace, followed
the procession. I used to watch the boats crossing the river to the
landing-place, when Subu once again held the umbrella over the Rajah’s
head to the door of the Court. There, the umbrella was furled, when
Subu, the umbrella, the Rajah and his ministers, disappeared from my
view into the building.
I then went to my rooms, where I usually found some Malay women waiting
to see me. On one occasion, I was sitting with two or three Malay
friends having coffee in the morning, when a young Chinese girl, in
a cotton sarong and Malay jacket, dashed into the room, followed by
one of the Guards. Her face was covered with scratches, her arms were
one mass of bruises, and round her neck was a red mark as though she
had been half strangled. She rushed up to me, caught hold of both my
knees, and said: “I hope in you because you are the Rajah’s wife. The
place I am in is a wicked one. I am a servant to a Chinese woman who
is jealous of her husband. When her husband goes out, she locks me in
a room and beats, scratches, and tortures me in every possible way,
because she thinks her husband looks upon me with favour. I will stay
with you always, I will not leave you, for if I go back to those people
the woman will kill me.” The girl was very pretty, with a pale yellow
skin and beautiful eyes, and I could quite understand that any woman
might feel jealous of such an adjunct to her household. I sent the
Guard away, and told the girl she might remain in a corner of my room
until the Rajah came back from the Court. Meanwhile, her employers,
finding she had run away from their house, had straightway gone to the
Court, where the Rajah was then sitting, and an application was made
for an order compelling the runaway to return. The Rajah, being told
that the girl had gone to the Palace and not knowing the rights of
the story, sent some police to bring her to him over the water. When
I was told that they were below, the girl took hold of my gown, and
said that if she was to go across to the courthouse, I was to go too to
protect her. I had with me at the time, the wives of the three chief
ministers of the Rajah’s Council, so we held a discussion as to what
was to be done. They were all on my side, and urged me not to let the
girl accompany the police sent by the Rajah. I must say I felt rather
nervous. “Never mind,” they said: “if our husbands make any difficulty,
when they come home they shall know it. You do the same with the Rajah,
and let us save the girl if we possibly can. Moreover, when the rights
of the matter are known and they see how dreadful the girl looks, they
too will not wish to send the girl back to her employers, but will see
the justice of our decision.” When the Rajah came back from the Court,
and heard the details of the story, he decided to keep the girl at the
Palace. Meanwhile, the matter was inquired into, and the woman who had
been so cruel was punished by having to pay a fine of money to be given
to the girl, who became one of my servants, and remained with me some
time, until a kind English lady, then living in Kuching, took a fancy
to her, and with the Rajah’s permission took her into her service as
lady’s maid. In course of time this victim of unjustifiable jealousy
found a Chinese husband, and I believe the couple are still living in
Kuching under comfortable circumstances.
A day or two after this incident, a war-boat full of Dyaks, headed
by their chief, arrived in Kuching and came to the Astana to see the
Rajah. If I remember rightly, these Dyaks had been, until recently,
enemies of the Sarawak Government, owing to the usual failing--their
love of head-taking. They had come to lay their submission before
their ruler, and to express contrition for their misdeeds, whilst
promising to behave better in the future. The Rajah wished to hear
what the chief had to say, and gave him an audience in his private
room. The chiefs followers, about fifty in number, who were not
wanted at this interview, were left on the verandah, and the Rajah
asked me to keep them amused and occupied whilst he was engaged with
the chief. As the Rajah and the chief disappeared down the stairway
leading to the study, I made signs to the warriors to follow me into
our drawing-room, thinking its furniture, so new to them, might prove
of interest. They wandered about in a desultory way, and as I could
not speak to them (not knowing their language) I opened the piano and
struck a note or two. These sounds apparently delighted them, and I
made signs to them to sit on the floor whilst I played that ordinary
piece of music, the _Danse Nègre_, by Ascher. Grunts of satisfaction
and noddings of heads intimated their approval of my performance. As I
went on, I noticed that the rhythm of the music acted on them somewhat
strangely. They reminded me of a number of marionettes with strings
attached to their arms and legs, moved by invisible hands in time to
the music. Their bodies, arms, and legs jerked spasmodically, and
before I quite realized what was happening, they all sprang to their
feet and bounded about the room, yelling and waving their arms in the
throes of an animated war-dance. I did not know how to stop them, and
felt apprehensive for the safety of the furniture and knick-knacks
placed about the room; indeed, one large palm tree standing in a pot
in a corner was nearly hurled to the ground. As the noise grew louder,
the bounds higher and higher, and I myself playing louder and louder,
I wondered what would happen, when, in the midst of all this turmoil,
the Rajah and the chief appeared in the doorway. The warriors stopped
suddenly and looked rather sheepish; some scratched themselves, while
others cleared their throats, and they all flopped down in squatting
positions on the floor. I went on playing for a little while after
the Rajah had come in. The chief said something to his followers, and
the Rajah dismissed the company kindly. We all touched one another’s
hands, and the Dyaks then filed put of the room and disappeared down
the verandah. The Rajah was amused and interested at the idea of my
rhythmic piano tune having carried the people so completely off their
feet, whilst I was rather pleased at the effect of my playing on such
a wild audience, and although realizing that my music does not rouse
English people to the same frenzy of enthusiasm, I felt that morning I
had gained a success that Rubinstein himself might have envied.