EXPEDITION TO BORNEO—FIRST VISIT TO SARAWAK—VOYAGE TO
CELEBES—SECOND VISIT TO SARAWAK—JOINS MUDA HASSIM’S ARMY—BROOKE’S
ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE CIVIL WAR—IT IS ENDED UNDER THE
INFLUENCE OF HIS ACTIVE INTERFERENCE—HE SAVES THE LIVES OF THE
REBEL CHIEFS
Brooke sailed from Devonport on December 16, 1838, in the _Royalist_,
belonging to the Royal Yacht Squadron, which, in foreign ports,
admitted her to the same privileges as a ship of war, and enabled
her to carry a white ensign. As the _Royalist_ is still an historic
character in the Eastern Archipelago, I must let the owner describe
her as she was in 1838. ‘She sails fast; is conveniently fitted up;
is armed with six six-pounders, and a number of swords and small arms
of all sorts; carries four boats and provisions for four months. Her
principal defect is being too sharp in the floor. She is a good sea
boat, and as well calculated for the service as could be desired.
Most of the hands have been with me for three years, and the rest are
highly recommended.’
Whilst the _Royalist_ is speeding on prosperously towards Singapore,
and calling at Rio Janeiro and the Cape, let me sum up in a few words
the object of the voyage.
The memorandum[3] which Brooke drew up on the then state of the
Indian Archipelago (1838), shows how carefully he had studied the
whole subject. He first expounds the policy which England should
follow if she wished to recover the position which she wantonly threw
away after the peace of 1815; he then explains what he proposed to do
for the furtherance of our knowledge of Borneo and the other great
islands to the East. Circumstances, however, as he anticipated might
be the case, made him change the direction of his first local voyage.
The _Royalist_ arrived in Singapore in May 1839, and remained at
that port till the end of July, refitting and preparing for future
work. There Brooke received news which induced him to give up for the
present the proposed voyage to Marudu Bay, the northernmost district
of Borneo, and visit Sarawak instead. Rajah Muda Hassim, uncle to
the Sultan of Brunei, was then residing there, and being of a kindly
disposition, had taken care of the crew of a shipwrecked English
vessel, and sent the men in safety to Singapore. This unlooked-for
conduct on the part of a Malay chief roused the interest of the
Singapore merchants, and Brooke was requested to call in at Sarawak
and deliver to the Malay prince a letter and presents from the
Chamber of Commerce.
This was a fortunate diversion of his voyage, as at that time Marudu
was governed by a notorious pirate chief. The bay was a rendezvous
for some of the most daring marauders in the Archipelago, and nothing
could have been done there to further our knowledge of the interior.
All being ready, and the crew strengthened by eight Singapore Malay
seamen,[4] athletic fellows, capital at the oar, and to save the
white men the work of wooding and watering, the _Royalist_ sailed for
Borneo on the 27th of July, and in five days was anchored off the
coast of Sambas. All the charts were found to be wrong, so that every
care had to be taken whilst working up the coast. A running survey
was made, and on the 11th August Brooke found himself at the mouth of
the Sarawak river.
When Brooke first arrived in Borneo, the Sultan Omar Ali claimed all
the coast from the capital to Tanjong Datu, whilst further south
was Sambas, under the influence of the Dutch; but the rule of Omar
Ali was little more than nominal, as each chief in the different
districts exercised almost unlimited power, and paid little or no
tribute to the central Government.
At the time of Brooke’s first visit to Sarawak the Malays of the
country had broken out into revolt against the oppressive rule of
Pangeran Makota, Governor of the district, and fearing that they
might call in the aid of the Sambas Malays, and thus place the
country under the control of the Dutch, the Sultan sent down Rajah
Muda Hassim, his uncle and heir-presumptive, to endeavour to stifle
the rebellion; but three years had passed, and he had done nothing.
He could prevent the rebels from communicating with the sea, but he
was powerless in the interior.
On hearing of the arrival of the _Royalist_ at the mouth of the
river, Muda Hassim despatched a deputation to welcome the stranger
and invite him to the capital—rather a grand name for a small
village. Brooke soon got his vessel under weigh, and proceeded up the
Sarawak, and after one slight mishap, anchored the next day opposite
the rajah’s house, and saluted his flag with twenty-one guns.
Muda Hassim received Brooke in state, and the interview is thus
described: ‘The rajah was seated in his hall of audience, which,
outside, is nothing but a large shed, erected on piles, but within
decorated with taste. Chairs were arranged on either side of the
ruler, who occupied the head seat. Our party were placed on one
hand, and on the other sat his brother Mahommed, and Makota and
some other of the principal chiefs, whilst immediately behind him
his twelve younger brothers were seated. The dress of Muda Hassim
was simple, but of rich material, and most of the principal men
were well, and even superbly dressed. His countenance is plain, but
intelligent and highly pleasing, and his manners perfectly easy. His
reception was kind, and, I am given to understand, highly flattering.
We sat, however, trammelled by the formalities of state, and our
conversation did not extend beyond kind inquiries and professions
of friendship.’ Brooke’s next interview was more informal, and
closer relations were established, which encouraged him to send his
interpreter, Mr Williamson, to ask permission to visit the Dyaks.
This was readily granted, but before commencing his explorations, he
received a private visit from Pangeran Makota. He was probably the
most intelligent Malay whom we ever met in Borneo, frank and open in
manner, but looked upon as the most cunning of the rajah’s advisers.
He was much puzzled, as were indeed all the nobles, as to the true
object of Brooke’s visit to Borneo, and confident in his power,
determined to find it out. And though Brooke had in reality no object
but geographical discovery, he could not convince his guest of that
fact, who scented some deep intrigue under the guise of a harmless
visit.
Brooke now took advantage of the rajah’s permission to explore
some of the neighbouring rivers, and he was shown first the fine
agricultural district of Samarahan, but only met Malays. His next
visit was to the Dyak tribe of Sibuyows, who lived on the river
Lundu, which discharged its waters not many miles from Cape Datu,
the southern boundary of Borneo proper.
From Tanjong Datu, as far as the river Rejang, the interior
populations are called Dyaks—Land or Sea Dyaks—the former, a quiet,
agricultural people, living in the far interior, plundered and
oppressed by the Malays; they are to be found in Sarawak, Samarahan
and Sadong. The Sea Dyaks were much more numerous, and though under
the influence of the Malays and Arab adventurers, were too powerful
ever to be ill-treated. They occupied the districts of Seribas and
Batang Lupar, and those on the left bank of the Rejang, with a few
scattered villages in other parts, such as this Sibuyow tribe on the
Lundu.
The chief of this branch of the Sea Dyaks, the Orang Kaya Tumangong,
was always a great favourite of the English officers in Sarawak. His
was the first tribe that Brooke visited, and he then formed a high
opinion of the brave man and his gallant sons, who were faithful unto
death, and who were always the foremost when any fighting was on hand.
The village they occupied was, in fact, but one huge house, nearly
six hundred feet in length, and the inner half divided into fifty
separate residences for the fifty families that constituted the
tribe. The front half of this long building was an open space, which
was used by the inhabitants during the day for every species of work,
and at night was occupied by the widowers, bachelors and boys as
their bedroom. The Sea Dyaks are much cleaner than the Land Dyaks,
and the girls of Sakarang, for instance, looked as well washed as any
of their sisters in May Fair.
The distinction of Land and Sea Dyaks was due to the fact that
the former never ventured near the salt water, whilst the latter
boldly pushed out to sea in their light bangkongs or war boats,
and cruised along at least two thousand miles of coast. When the
_Royalist_ first arrived in Sarawak the majority of the Sea Dyaks
were piratically inclined. This practice arose in all probability
from their inter-tribal wars—the Seribas against the Lingas and
Sibuyows—and from their custom of seeking heads—almost a religious
observance. When a party of young men went out to search for the
means of marrying, and had failed to secure the heads of enemies, we
can easily imagine their not being too particular about killing any
weaker party they might meet, even if they were not enemies, and,
finding it met with no retaliation, continuing the practice. In this
they were encouraged by the Malay chiefs who lived among them, and
who obtained, on easy terms, the women and children captives who fell
into the hands of the Dyak raiders. Although the Linga and Sibuyow
branches of the Sea Dyaks hunted for heads, they were the heads of
their enemies, whilst the Seribas, and, in a lesser degree, the
Sea Dyaks of the Sakarang and the Rejang spared no one they could
overcome.
Brooke’s next visit was to the river Sadong, to the north-east of
Sarawak, and there he met Sherif Sahib, a great encourager of piracy
of every kind. Sometimes he received the Lanuns,[5] the boldest
marauders who ever invested the Far Eastern seas, bought their
captives and supplied them with food, whilst at others he would aid
the Seribas and Sakarangs in their forays on the almost defenceless
tribes of the interior, or share their plunder acquired on the coasts
of the Dutch possessions.
Finding that the rebellion in the interior of the Sarawak would
prevent him from visiting it, Brooke decided to return to Singapore.
After a friendly parting with Muda Hassim, whose last words were, ‘Do
not forget me,’ the _Royalist_ fell down the river. The night before
Brooke had settled to sail he was joined by a small Sarawak boat with
a dozen men, who were to pilot him out; but about midnight shouts
were heard from the shore of ‘Dyak! Dyak’! In an instant a blue light
was burnt on board the yacht and a gun fired, and then there came a
dead silence. Brooke sprang into a boat and pushed off to the Malay
prahu, to find half the crew wounded. It seemed that a cruising party
of Seribas Dyaks had no doubt seen the fire lighted on the shore,
and had noiselessly floated up with the flood tide and attacked the
Malays, not observing in the dark night the _Royalist_ at anchor.
This occurrence showed how necessary it was to be on one’s guard at
all times.
The news brought by Brooke was well received in Singapore, as it
opened up a new country to British commerce, and prevented the Dutch
gaining a footing there, with their vexatious trade regulations,
which practically debarred native vessels from visiting British ports.
As the Rajah Muda Hassim had assured his English visitor that the
rebellion in the interior of Sarawak would collapse before the next
fine season, he decided to pass the interval in visiting Celebes, a
most attractive island, then but imperfectly known.
No part of Brooke’s journals is more interesting than the account of
his experiences in Bugis land. They are, however, simple travels,
without many personal incidents to be noted; but here, as elsewhere,
he acquired the same ascendency over the natives, and the memory of
his visit remained impressed on the minds of the Bugis rulers, who
followed his advice in regulating their kingdoms, and especially
listened to his counsels when he pointed out the danger of entering
into armed conflict with their Dutch neighbours.
The following observations extracted from Brooke’s journals are
remarkable: ‘I must mention the effect of European domination in the
Archipelago. The first voyagers from the West found the natives rich
and powerful, with strong established governments and a thriving
trade. The rapacious European has reduced them to their present
position. Their governments have been broken up, the old states
decomposed by treachery, bribery and intrigue, their possessions
snatched from them under flimsy pretences, their trade restricted,
their vices encouraged, their virtues repressed, and their energies
paralysed or rendered desperate, till there is every reason to fear
the gradual extinction of the Malay. Let these considerations, fairly
reflected on and enlarged, be presented to the candid and liberal
mind, and I think that, however strong the present prepossessions,
they will shake the belief in the advantages to be gained by European
ascendency, as it has heretofore been conducted, and will convince
the most sceptical of the miseries immediately and prospectively
flowing from European rule as generally constituted.’
The above observations naturally apply to the Dutch and Spanish
systems, which at that time alone had sway in the Archipelago, as
England, with its small trading depots, did not actively interfere
with the native princes. Yet it must be confessed that Borneo
proper, which had generally escaped interference from their European
neighbours, fell from a position fairly important to the most
degraded state, entirely owing to the incapacity of its native rulers
and not to outside influences.
The visits to Sarawak and Celebes tended to confirm Brooke’s
convictions that, if England would but act on a settled plan and on
a sufficient scale, she could still save and develop the independent
native states, without any necessity of occupying them.
In the year 1776 the Sultan of Sulu ceded to England all his
possessions in the north of Borneo, and the East India Company formed
a small settlement on the Island of Balambangan; this being on a very
inefficient scale, was easily surprised by pirates and destroyed.
Later on another attempt was made by the Company to establish
themselves on the island, but it was soon abandoned.
Brooke, after carefully studying the subject, came to the same
conclusion as Sir Stamford Raffles and Colonel Farquhar had done
before him, that it was a mistake to take small islands; but that,
on the contrary, this country should establish a settlement on the
mainland of Borneo. As all the independent states of the Archipelago
are filled with a maritime population, islands are not so safe from
attack as the mainland, where the interior population is rarely
warlike. He recommended that England should take possession of Marudu
Bay, establish herself strongly there, be constantly supported by
the navy, and from thence the Governor, with diplomatic powers,
could visit all the independent chiefs and make such treaties with
them as would prevent their being absorbed by other European
States. His policy was of the most liberal kind; he would have
sought no exclusive trade privileges, but he would have preserved
their political independence. He would have established in the more
important states carefully-selected English agents, to encourage the
chiefs in useful reforms and to prevent restrictions on commerce.
On the mainland he would not have instantly established English
rule, except in a well-chosen, central spot, and there he would have
awaited the invitation of the chiefs to send an English officer to
aid them in governing.
Had this great plan been executed on a suitable scale Brooke’s
name would have been enshrined among the greatest builders of the
British Empire. It is not too late even now; but where shall we find
another Brooke to carry it out? North Borneo is at present under the
protection of Great Britain, but it is owned and administered by a
Chartered Company, and in these days cannot, under such conditions,
hold the same position as a Crown colony.
The time seems propitious. The Spaniards have lost their hold over
the Philippines, and Sulu and the great island of Mindanau will
soon be free from their depressing influence; even the Dutch are
acting on a more enlightened system, which would be encouraged, if
England took an active interest in the Archipelago. The North Borneo
Company would scarcely refuse a proposal to place the country under
our direct rule, and with another Sir Hugh Low it might be made a
valuable possession, and would gradually dominate the whole of the
Archipelago.
The Philippines will now be governed by one of the most progressive
nations in the world, and the effect of their rule will be
far-reaching. It would appear to be advisable that Great Britain
should simultaneously take over North Borneo, as the conditions
heretofore existing have so completely changed.
From Celebes Brooke returned to Singapore to refit. His plans were to
visit Borneo again, then proceed to Manila, and so home by Cape Horn.
He arrived at our settlement in May, left it again in August, and
reached Sarawak on the 29th, to find himself cordially received by
Muda Hassim. The war was not over, nor was the end of it in sight. A
few half-starved Dyaks had deserted the Sarawak Malays, and come into
the Bornean camp to be fed; but the route to Sambas was still open,
and it was suspected that supplies were furnished by the Sultan of
Sambas, who coveted the territory.
After considerable discussion and consideration, Brooke thought he
would visit the headquarters of the army which was supposed to be
besieging the enemy; but he found it seven miles below the principal
hostile fort. The spot was called Ledah Tanah, or the tongue of land,
where the two branches of the river meet. It was the site of the old
capital, and even when I was there some ten years later the iron-wood
posts of the houses still existed, untouched by time, though over
sixty years in use. As Brooke expected, Makota, at the head of the
army, was doing nothing, and as he rejected the advice of his white
visitor, and seemed determined not to advance nearer to the enemy,
Brooke returned to Sarawak, and even announced his departure, as
the North-East monsoon was coming on, and he did not wish to face
it on his voyage to Manila. However, Muda Hassim appeared to feel
his departure so acutely, that his heart smote him, and he agreed
to visit the army once more, particularly as the Land Dyaks were
now really leaving the rebels and joining the Bornean forces. He
therefore returned to the camp, and by his energy compelled Makota to
act. The stockade at Ledah Tanah was pulled down and moved to within
a mile of the enemy’s chief fort, Balidah, and gradually stockade
after stockade was built, until the most commanding one was erected
within three hundred yards of the hostile fort. Brooke sent to the
yacht for two six-pounders and a sufficient supply of ammunition,
and, with the aid of his men, soon battered down the weak defences
of the enemy, and then proposed an assault. But this bold advice was
looked upon as insanity, and though promises to advance were freely
given, when it came to action they all hung back. At length, wearied
with this procrastination, Brooke, in spite of the entreaties of all
the native chiefs, embarked his guns and returned to the _Royalist_,
and sent word to the rajah that his stay was utterly useless; but
when Muda Hassim heard the decision, ‘his deep regret was so visible
that even all the self-command of the native could not disguise it.
He begged, he entreated me to stay, and offered me the country, its
government and its trade, if I would only stop and not desert him.’
Though Brooke could not accept the grant then, as it would have been
extracted from the rajah’s deep distress, he agreed to return to the
army; and once more the guns were embarked in the boats, and every
man who could be spared from the _Royalist_ accompanied Brooke to
the front. There he met Budrudin, Muda Hassim’s favourite brother,
with whom he soon contracted a friendship which ended only with the
Malay prince’s life. He was brave, frank and intelligent; he quickly
appreciated the noble character of the white leader of men, and ever
after he fully trusted him.
The episodes of the closing campaign of this civil war were so
amusing, that although the story has been published several times, I
cannot refrain from repeating it again in the words of the English
chief.[6]
‘On the 10th December we reached the fleet and disembarked our
guns, taking up our residence in a house, or rather shed, close
to the water. The rajah’s brother, Pangeran Budrudin, was with
the army, and I found him ready and willing to urge upon the other
indolent pangerans the proposals I made for vigorous hostilities.
We found the grand army in a state of torpor, eating, drinking and
walking up to the forts and back again daily; but having built these
imposing structures, and their appearance not driving the enemy
away, they were at a loss what to do next, or how to proceed. On
my arrival, I once more insisted on mounting the guns in our old
forts, and assaulting Balidah under their fire. Makota’s timidity
and vacillation were too apparent; but in consequence of Budrudin’s
overawing presence he was obliged, from shame, to yield his assent.
The order for the attack was fixed as follows: our party of ten
(leaving six to serve the guns) were to be headed by myself.
Budrudin, Makota, Subtu and all the lesser chiefs were to lead their
followers, from sixty to eighty in number, by the same route, whilst
fifty or more Chinese, under their captain, were to assault by
another path to their left. Makota was to make the paths as near as
possible to Balidah, with his Dyaks, who were to extract the sudas
and fill up the holes. The guns having been mounted, and their range
ascertained the previous evening, we ascended to the fort about
eight a.m., and at ten opened our fire and kept it up for an hour.
The effect was severe. Every shot told upon their thin defences of
wood, which fell in many places so as to leave storming breaches.
Part of the roof was cut away and tumbled down, and the shower of
grape and canister rattled so as to prevent their returning our fire,
except from a stray rifle. At mid-day the forces reached the fort,
and it was then discovered that Makota had neglected to make any road
because it rained the night before! It was evident that the rebels
had gained information of our intentions as they had erected a fringe
of bamboo along their defences on the very spot we had agreed to
mount. Makota fancied the want of a road would delay the attack; but
I well knew that delay was equivalent to failure, and so it was at
once agreed that we should advance without any path. The poor man’s
cunning and resources were now nearly at an end. He could not refuse
to accompany us, but his courage could not be brought to the point,
and pale and embarrassed he retired. Everything was ready—Budrudin,
the Capitan China and myself, at the head of our men—when he once
more appeared, and raised a subtle point of etiquette, which answered
his purpose. He represented to Budrudin that the Malays were
unanimously of opinion that the rajah’s brother could not expose
himself in an assault; that the dread of the rajah’s indignation far
exceeded their dread of death; and in case any accident happened
to him, his brother’s fury would fall on them. Budrudin was angry,
I was angry too, and the doctor most angry of all; but anger was
unavailing. It was clear they did not intend to do anything in
earnest; and after much discussion, in which Budrudin insisted if
I went he should likewise go, and the Malays insisted that if he
went they would not go, it was resolved that we should serve the
guns, whilst Abong Mia and the Chinese, not under the captain,
should proceed to the assault. But its fate was sealed, and Makota
had gained his object; for neither he nor Subtu thought of exposing
themselves to a single shot. Our artillery opened and was beautifully
served. The hostile forces attempted to advance, but our fire
completely subdued them, as only three rifles answered us, by one of
which a seaman was wounded in the hand, but not seriously. Two-thirds
of the way the storming party proceeded without the hostile army
being aware of their advance, and they might have reached the very
foot of the hill without being discovered, had not Abong Mia, from
excess of piety and rashness, began most loudly to say his prayers.
The three rifles began then to play on them. One Chinaman was killed,
the whole halted, the prayers were more vehement than ever, and
after squatting under cover of the jungle for some time they all
returned. It was only what I expected, but I was greatly annoyed
by their cowardice and treachery—treachery to their own cause. One
lesson, however, I learnt, and that was, that had I assaulted with
our small party, we should assuredly have been victimised. The very
evening of the failure the rajah came up the river. I would not see
him, and only heard that the chiefs got severely reprimanded; but
the effects of reprimand are lost where cowardice is stronger than
shame. Inactivity followed, two or three useless forts were built,
and Budrudin, much to my regret and to the detriment of the cause,
was recalled.
‘Amongst the straggling arrivals I may mention Pangeran Dallam, with
a number of men, consisting of the Orang Bintulu, Meri, Muka and
Kayan Dyaks from the interior. Our house, or, as it originally stood,
our shed, deserves a brief record. It was about twenty feet long,
with a loose floor of reeds and an attap or palm-leaf roof. It served
us for some time, but the attempts at theft obliged us to fence it in
and divide it into apartments—one at the end served for Middleton,
Williamson and myself. Adjoining it was the storeroom and hospital,
and the other extreme belonged to the seamen. Our improvements kept
pace with our necessities. Theft induced us to shut in our house at
the sides, and the unevenness of the reeds suggested the advantage
of laying a floor of the bark of trees over them, which, with mats
over all, rendered our domicile far from uncomfortable. Our forts
gradually extended to the back of the enemy’s town, on a ridge of
swelling ground, whilst they kept pace with us on the same side of
the river on the low ground. The inactivity of our troops had long
become a by-word amongst us. It was, indeed, truly vexatious, but
it was in vain to urge them on, in vain to offer assistance, in vain
to propose a joint attack, or even to seek support at their hands;
promises were to be had in plenty, but performances never.
‘At length our leaders resolved on building a fort at Sekundis,
thus outflanking the enemy and gaining the command of the upper
course of the river. The post was certainly an important one, and
in consequence they set about it with the happy indifference which
characterises their proceedings. Pangeran Illudin (the most active
amongst them) had the building of the fort, assisted by the Orang
Kaya Tumangong of Lundu. Makota, Subtu and others were at the next
fort, and by chance I was there likewise; for it seemed to be little
apprehended that any interruption would take place, as the Chinese
and the greater part of the Malays had been left in the boats. When
the fort commenced, however, the enemy crossed the river and divided
into two bodies, the one keeping in check the party at Pangeran
Gapoor’s fort, whilst the other made an attack on the works. The
ground was not unfavourable for their purpose, for Pangeran Gapoor’s
fort was separated from Sekundis by a belt of thick wood which
reached down to the river’s edge. Sekundis itself, however, stood
on clear ground, as did Gapoor’s fort. I was with Makota at the
latter when the enemy approached through the jungle. The two parties
were within easy speaking distance, challenging and threatening
each other, but the thickness of the jungle prevented our seeing or
penetrating to them. When this body had advanced, the real attack
commenced on Sekundis with a fire of musketry, and I was about to
proceed to the scene, but was detained by Makota, who assured me
there were plenty of men, and that it was nothing at all. As the
musketry became thicker, I had my doubts when a Dyak came running
through the jungle, and with gestures of impatience and anxiety
begged me to assist the party attacked. He had been sent by my old
friend the Tumangong of Lundu, to say they could not hold the post
unless supported. In spite of Makota’s remonstrances, I struck into
the jungle, winded through the narrow path, and, after crossing an
ugly stream, emerged on the clear ground. The sight was a pretty one.
To the right was the unfinished stockade, defended by the Tumangong;
to the left, at the edge of the forest, about twelve or fifteen of
our party, commanded by Illudin, whilst the enemy were stretched
along between the points, and kept up a sharp-shooting from the
hollow ground on the bank of the river. They fired and loaded and
fired, and had gradually advanced on the stockade, as the ammunition
of our party failed; and as we emerged from the jungle, they were
within twenty or five-and-twenty yards of the defence. A glance
immediately showed me the advantage of our position, and I charged
with my Englishmen across the padi field, and the instant we appeared
on the ridge above the river, in the hollows of which the rebels were
seeking protection, their rout was complete. They scampered off in
every direction, whilst the Dyaks and Malays pushed them into the
river. Our victory was decisive and bloodless; the scene was changed
in an instant, and the defeated foe lost arms and ammunition either
on the field of battle or in the river, and our exulting conquerors
set no bounds to their triumph.
‘I cannot omit to mention the name of Si Tundu, a Lanun, the only
native who charged with us. His appearance and dress were most
striking, the latter being entirely of red, bound round the waist,
arms, forehead, etc., with gold ornaments, and in his hand his
formidable Bajuk sword. He danced, or rather galloped, across the
field close to me, and, mixing with the enemy, was about to despatch
a haji, or priest, who was prostrate before him, when one of our
people interposed, and saved him by stating that he was a companion
of our own. The Lundu Dyaks were very thankful for our support, our
praises were loudly sung, and the stockade was concluded. After the
rout, Makota, Subtu and Abong Mia arrived on the field; the last,
with forty followers, had ventured half way before the firing ceased,
but the detachment, under a paltry subterfuge, halted so as not to
be in time. The enemy might have had fifty men at the attack. The
defending party consisted of about the same number, but the Dyaks
had very few muskets. I had a dozen Englishmen, Subu, one of our
Singapore boatmen, and Si Tundu. Sekundis was a great point gained,
as it hindered the enemy from ascending the river and seeking
supplies.
‘Makota, Subtu and the whole tribe arrived as soon as their safety
from danger allowed, and none were louder in their own praise, but,
nevertheless, their countenances evinced some sense of shame, which
they endeavoured to disguise by the use of their tongues. The Chinese
came really to afford assistance, but too late. We remained until the
stockade of Sekundis was finished, while the enemy kept up a wasteful
fire from the opposite side of the river, which did no harm.
‘The next great object was to follow up the advantage by crossing
the stream, but day after day some fresh excuse brought on fresh
delay, and Makota built a new fort and made a new road within a
hundred yards of our old position. I cannot detail further our
proceedings for many days, which consisted, on my part, in efforts
to get something done, and on the others, a close adherence to the
old system of promising everything and doing nothing. The Chinese,
like the Malays, refused to act; but on their part it was not fear,
but disinclination. By degrees, however, the preparations for the new
fort were complete, and I had gradually gained over a party of the
natives to my views; and, indeed, amongst the Malays, the bravest of
them had joined themselves to us, and what was better, we had Datu
Pangerang and thirteen Illanuns, and the Capitan China allowed me to
take his men whenever I wanted them. My weight and consequence was
increased, and I rarely moved now without a long train of followers.
The next step, whilst crossing the river was uncertain, was to take
my guns up to Gapoor’s fort, which was about six or seven hundred
yards from the town, and half the distance from a rebel fort on the
river’s bank.
‘Panglima Rajah, the day after our guns were in battery, took it
into his head to build a fort on the river’s side, close to the
town in front, and between two of the enemy’s forts. It was a bold
undertaking for the old man after six weeks of uninterrupted repose.
At night, the wood being prepared, the party moved down, and worked
so silently that they were not discovered till their defence was
nearly finished, when the enemy commenced a general firing from all
their forts, returned by a similar firing from all ours, none of the
parties being quite clear what they were firing at or about, and the
hottest from either party being equally harmless. We were at the time
about going to bed in our habitation, but expecting some reverse I
set off to the stockade where our guns were placed, and opened a
fire upon the town and the stockade near us, till the enemy’s fire
gradually slackened and died away. We then returned, and in the
morning were greeted with the pleasing news that they had burned and
deserted five of their forts, and left us sole occupants of the left
bank of the river. The same day, going through the jungle to see one
of these deserted forts, we came upon a party of the enemy, and had
a brief skirmish with them before they took to flight. Nothing can
be more unpleasant to a European than this bush-fighting, where he
scarce sees a foe, whilst he is well aware that their eyesight is
far superior to his own. To proceed with this narrative, I may say
that four or five forts were built on the edge of the river opposite
the enemy’s town, and distant not above fifty or sixty yards. Here
our guns were removed, and a fresh battery formed ready for a
bombardment, and fire-balls essayed to ignite the houses.
‘At this time Sherif Jaffer, from Linga, arrived with about seventy
men, Malays and Dyaks of Balow. The river Linga, being situated close
to Seribas, and incessant hostilities being waged between the two
places, he and his followers were both more active and warlike than
the Borneans; but their warfare consists of closing hand to hand with
spear and sword. They scarcely understood the proper use of firearms,
and were of little use in attacking stockades. As a negotiator,
however, the Sherif bore a distinguished part; and on his arrival
a parley ensued, much against Makota’s will, and some meetings
took place between Jaffer and a brother Sherif at Siniawan, named
Moksain. After ten days’ delay nothing came of it, though the enemy
betrayed great desire to yield. This negotiation being at an end,
we had a day’s bombardment, and a fresh treaty brought about thus:
Makota being absent in Sarawak, I received a message from Sherif
Jaffer and Pangeran Subtu to say that they wished to meet me; and on
my consenting they stated that Sherif Jaffer felt confident the war
might be brought to an end, though alone he dared not treat with the
rebels; but, in case I felt inclined to join him, we could bring it
to a favourable conclusion. I replied that our habits of treating
were very unlike their own, as we allowed no delays to interpose; but
that I would unite with him for one interview, and if that interview
was favourable we might meet the chiefs at once and settle it, or put
an end to all further treating. Pangeran Subtu was delighted with
the proposition, urged its great advantages, and the meeting, by my
desire, was fixed for that very night, the place Pangeran Illudin’s
fort at Sekundis. The evening arrived, and at dark we were at the
appointed place and a message was despatched for Sherif Moksain. In
the meantime, however, came a man from Pangeran Subtu to beg us to
hold no intercourse; that the rebels were false, meant to deceive
us, and if they did come we had better make them prisoners. Sherif
Jaffer, after arguing the point some time, rose to depart, remarking
that with such proceedings he would not consent to treat. I urged
him to stay, but finding him bent on going I ordered my gig (which
had some time before been brought overland) to be put into the
water—my intention being to proceed to the enemy’s kampong and hear
what they had to say. I added that it was folly to leave undone what
we had agreed to do in the morning because Pangeran Subtu changed
his mind; that I had come to treat, and treat I would. I would not
go away now without giving the enemy a fair hearing. For the good
of all parties I would do it—and if the Sherif liked to join me, as
we proposed before, and wait for Sherif Moksain, good; if not, I
would go in the boat to the kampong. My Europeans, on being ordered,
jumped up, ran out and brought the boat to the water’s edge and in
a few minutes oars, rudder and rowlocks were in her. My companions,
seeing this, came to terms, and we waited for Sherif Moksain, during
which, however, I overheard a whispering conversation from Subtu’s
messenger, proposing to seize him, and my temper was ruffled to such
a degree, that I drew out a pistol, and told him I would shoot him
dead if he dared to seize, or talk of seizing, any man who trusted
himself from the enemy to meet me. The scoundrel slunk off, and we
were no more troubled with him. This past, Sherif Moksain arrived,
and was introduced into our fortress alone—alone and unarmed in an
enemy’s stockade, manned with two hundred men. His bearing was firm;
he advanced with ease and took his seat, and during the interview
the only sign of uneasiness was the quick glance of his eye from side
to side. The object he aimed at was to gain my guarantee that the
lives of all the rebels should be spared, but this I had not in my
power to grant. He returned to his kampong, and came again towards
morning, when it was agreed that Sherif Jaffer and myself should meet
the Patingis and the Tumangong, and arrange terms with them. By the
time our conference was over the day broke, and we descended to our
boats to have a little rest.
‘On the 20th December we met the chiefs on the river, and they
expressed themselves ready to yield, without conditions, to the
rajah, if I would promise that they should not be put to death. My
reply was that I could give no such promise; but if they surrendered,
it must be for life or death, according to the rajah’s pleasure, and
all I could do was to use my influence to save their lives. To this
they assented after a while; but then there arose the more difficult
question, how they were to be protected until the rajah’s orders
arrived. They dreaded both Chinese and Malays, especially the former,
who had just cause for angry feelings, and who, it was feared, would
make an attack on them directly their surrender had taken from them
their means of defence. The Malays would not assail them in a body,
but would individually plunder them, and give occasion for disputes
and bloodshed. Their apprehensions were almost sufficient to break
off the hitherto favourable negotiations, had I not proposed to
them myself to undertake their defence, and to become responsible
for their safety until the orders of their sovereign arrived. On my
pledging myself to this they yielded up their strong fort of Balidah,
the key of their position. I immediately made it known to our own
party that no boats were to ascend or descend the river, and that any
person attacking or pillaging the rebels were my enemies, and that I
should fire upon them without hesitation.
‘Both Chinese and Malays agreed to the propriety of the measure, and
gave me the strongest assurances of restraining their respective
followers; the former with good faith, the latter with the intention
of involving matters, if possible, to the destruction of the rebels.
By the evening we were in possession of Balidah, and certainly found
it a formidable fortress, situated on a steep mound, with dense
defences of wood, triple deep, and surrounded by two enclosures,
thickly studded on the outside with _ranjaus_. The effect of our
fire had shaken it completely, now much to our discomfort, for the
walls were tottering and the roof as leaky as a sieve. On the 20th
December, then, the war closed. The very next day, contrary to
stipulation, the Malay pangerans tried to ascend the river, and when
stopped began to expostulate. After preventing many, the attempt
was made by Subtu and Pangeran Hassim in three large boats, boldly
pulling towards us. Three hails did not check them, and they came
on, in spite of a blank cartridge and a wide ball to turn them back.
But I was resolved, and when a dozen musket balls whistled over
and fell close around them, they took to an ignominious flight. I
subsequently upbraided them for this breach of promise, and Makota
loudly declared they had been greatly to blame, but I discovered that
he himself had set them on.
‘I may now briefly conclude these details. I ordered the rebels to
burn all their stockades, which they did at once, and deliver up
the greater part of their arms, and I proceeded to the rajah to
request from him their lives. Those who know the Malay character
will appreciate the difficulty of the attempt to stand between the
monarch and his victims. I only succeeded when, at the end of a long
debate—I soliciting, he denying—I rose to bid him farewell, as it
was my intention to sail directly, since, after all my exertions in
his cause he would not grant me the lives of the people, I could
only consider that his friendship for me was at an end. On this he
yielded. I must own that during the discussion he had much the best
of it; for he urged that they had forfeited their lives by the law,
as a necessary sacrifice to the future peace of the country; and
argued that in a similar case in my own native land no leniency would
be shown. On the contrary, my reasoning, though personal, was, on the
whole, the best for the rajah and the people. I explained my extreme
reluctance to have the blood of conquered foes shed; the shame I
should experience in being a party, however involuntarily, to their
execution, and the general advantage of a merciful line of policy.
At the same time I told him that their lives were forfeited, their
crimes had been of a heinous and unpardonable nature, and that it
was only from so humane a man as himself, one with so kind a heart,
that I could ask for their pardon; but, I added, he well knew that
it was only my previous knowledge of his benevolent disposition, and
the great friendship I felt for him, which had induced me to take
any part in the struggle. Other stronger reasons might have been
brought forward, which I forbore to employ, as being repugnant to
his princely pride, viz., that severity in this case would arm many
against him, raise powerful enemies in Borneo proper, as well as
here, and greatly impede the future right government of the country.
However, having gained my point, I was satisfied.
‘Having fulfilled this engagement, and being, moreover, with many
of my Europeans, attacked with ague, I left the scene with all the
dignity of complete success. Subsequently the rebels were ordered to
deliver up all their arms, ammunition and property; and last, the
wives and children of the principal people were demanded as hostages
and obtained. The women and children were treated with kindness and
preserved from injury or wrong. Siniawan thus dwindled away. The
poorer men stole off in canoes, and were scattered about, most of
them coming to Kuching. The better class pulled down the houses,
abandoned the town and lived in boats for a month when, alarmed
by the delay in settling terms and impelled by hunger, they also
fled—Patingi Gapoor, it was said, to Sambas, and Patingi Ali and
the Tumangong amongst the Dyaks. After a time it was supposed they
would return and receive their wives and children. The army gradually
dispersed to seek food, and the Chinese were left in possession of
the once renowned Siniawan, the ruin of which they completed by
burning all that remained and erecting a village for themselves in
the immediate neighbourhood. Sherif Jaffer and many others departed
to their respective homes, and the pinching of famine succeeded to
the horrors of war. Fruit, being in season, helped to support the
wretched people, and the near approach of the rice harvest kept up
their spirits.’
Thus ended the great civil war, which is so renowned in local
history. The three chiefs mentioned—Patingi Gapoor, Patingi Ali and
the Tumangong—with their sons and relatives, will appear again as
some of the principal actors in the history of Sarawak. All except
Patingi Gapoor remained faithful to the end, or are still among the
main supports of the present Government. I knew them all, with the
exception of Patingi Ali, who was killed whilst gallantly heading an
attack on the Sakarang pirates during Captain Keppel’s expedition in
1844.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: _See_ Appendix.]
[Footnote 4: I knew one of them, Subu, the favourite of every
foreigner in Sarawak.]
[Footnote 5: The Lanuns came from the great island of Mindanau, in
the Southern Philippines, which was a nominal possession of Spain,
and cruised in well-armed vessels.]
[Footnote 6: _Voyage of the Dido_, Vol. I., page 172, _et seq._]