The Rajah’s expedition had been successful. The enemy’s villages and
rice farms were destroyed so as to compel the people to move farther
down the river and form settlements under the supervision of the Lobok
Antu Fort officials, about fifty miles above Simanggang.
Two or three days after the Rajah’s return we took leave of Mr.
Maxwell, and embarked in our travelling boat to return to Kuching.
We spent the night at Lingga, and started off again the next day,
intending to break our journey at a place on the coast called Sibuyow.
We arrived late in the evening at Sibuyow village, where a messenger,
sent by the Rajah the day before, had informed the people that we
wished to spend the night at the chief’s house. It had been exceedingly
hot during the journey, and when we arrived at our destination I was
almost dead with fatigue. Serip Bagus, another descendant of the
Prophet, chief of Sibuyow, accompanied by the whole village, men,
women, and children, was awaiting our arrival on the bank, with gongs
and all sorts of musical instruments, making a weird and rhythmic
noise. The moon had risen and the palms and mangroves lining the banks
looked jet-black against the pale, starlit sky. The mangroves all down
the river were one mass of fireflies, reminding me of Christmas trees
magnificently illuminated.
My passage on shore was made with the customary difficulty. The ladder,
laid across the mud, was not at all easy for me to negotiate, for the
rungs were from two to two and a half feet apart. There were so many
people to help me, however, that I managed the ascent without mishap.
Serip Bagus and his wife, the Seripa, had taken great pains to put
their house in order for our arrival. Following the Rajah, the chief’s
wife took me by the hand and led me into a room, at one end of which
was a large raised platform, on which were laid mats and embroidered
cloths for the Rajah and myself to sit on. This audience-room, similar
to those built in almost all Malay chiefs’ houses, was filled with the
village people, who had come to see the Rajah and listen to what he
had to say. I was very tired and longed for rest, but did not like to
say anything for fear of disappointing the people who had so kindly
prepared this reception for us. The Rajah and I sat side by side on
the platform, whilst the chiefs made interminable speeches. I got more
and more tired, and at last said to the Rajah: “I must go away; I am
so tired.” The Rajah begged me to try and keep up a little longer on
account of the people. At length, however, people or no people, I could
stand it no longer, and going behind the Rajah on the platform, laid
full length on the floor, and fell fast asleep, regardless of any kind
of etiquette. I must have woke owing to the conversation ceasing, and
found the chief’s wife bending over me. She told me she would lead me
to a room where a bed was prepared for me, and taking my right hand,
followed by her daughter, a young girl, dressed in silks, satins, and
gold ornaments, together with four of the most aged females it has ever
been my lot to see alive, she led me into the women’s apartment, where,
occupying about a quarter of the room, was a huge mosquito house.
This was hung with valances of red-and-gold embroidery. Lifting up a
corner of the curtain, the chief’s wife took me, as she called it, to
bed. Seven pillows, like hard bolsters, stiff and gorgeous with gold
embroidery, were piled one over the other at the head of the bed--these
being the seven pillows used on all Muhammadan couches, and below them
was a hard, knobbly gold-embroidered bolster for me to rest my head on.
The chief’s wife took her position at my feet, with a fan, whilst the
four old ladies, who grunted a good deal, each occupied a corner of
the curtains, two of them holding sirih boxes and two paper fans, in
order that I should not want for anything in the night. When daybreak
came, I knew I should have to tell them I was awake and wanted to get
up, seeing they would not dare to speak. All over Sarawak, whether
amongst Malays or Dyaks, it is thought dangerous to awaken anyone from
sleep, in case their souls should be absent from their bodies and
never return again. Ima was not permitted inside my mosquito curtains,
nor was she allowed to accompany me to my morning bath. The chief’s
wife, his daughter, his female cousins, his aunts, and the four old
cronies with their sirih boxes and paper fans, came with me into the
garden, where there was a pool of water. I stepped into this, and was
handed a leaf bucket by the chief’s wife, with great ceremony; this I
filled repeatedly with water from a jar at the side of the pool and
poured over my head. Dressed, as I was, in Malay costume, and bathing
in a sarong, my change of clothes was easily effected. After my bath
I joined the Rajah, who was having his tea. We partook of this meal
in public, the villagers bringing us baskets of mangosteens, oranges,
limes, eggs, ancient and modern, and many other things, too numerous to
mention, considered delicacies by these people.
On this occasion we were without either guards or police, and if I
remember rightly, the Rajah’s crew consisted of men from the village of
Simanggang.
As I was in the throes of negotiating the slippery ladder at the
landing-place, on my way to the boat, a very shabby and not overclean
old lady, who, I believe, was one of the chief’s servants, rushed up
to me and deposited in my hand a solitary egg. I carried this touching
little present to the boat in fear and trembling, lest it should break
or fall out of my hand, and thus disappoint the old dame.
Our journey across the sea was not without incident. We were in a
shallow canoe, manned by some thirty men, and as we hugged the shore
(it would not have been safe to go very far out to sea) a storm came
on, and the boat began to rock badly. It was lucky that at critical
moments our crew could jump out along that shallow part of the coast
and keep the boat from turning turtle. Curiously enough, I am never
sea-sick in a small boat. The danger on this occasion lay in the fact
that to get into the Sarawak River we had to cross the mouths of the
Sadong and Samarahan Rivers, and although I was perfectly unaware of
the danger, the Rajah was a little anxious once or twice when, in
crossing the bar, great rollers dashed themselves against our palm-leaf
awnings and threatened to overwhelm us. I think the journey took
about six hours, and by the time we entered the Sarawak River we were
drenched. It was difficult to change one’s clothing in the boat, as we
were exposed to view, so we had to make the best of it. It is often
said that sea water never gives one cold, and I suppose this must be
true, for in spite of our wetting we were none of us the worse for the
experience. Ima was very amusing; she kept whispering to me that if the
Rajah liked he could make the sea behave better, but as he did not
seem to worry, she supposed it did not matter very much. I was very
glad when we arrived at our comfortable Astana, and could sleep between
linen sheets once more.