THE CHINESE SURPRISE THE TOWN OF KUCHING—THE RAJAH AND HIS OFFICERS
ESCAPE—THE CHINESE PROCLAIM THEMSELVES SUPREME RULERS—THEY ARE
ATTACKED BY THE MALAYS—ARRIVAL OF THE ‘SIR JAMES BROOKE’—THE
CHINESE, DRIVEN FROM KUCHING, ABANDON THE INTERIOR AND RETREAT TO
SAMBAS—DISARMED BY THE DUTCH
Chinese colonists are the mainstay of every country in the Further
East; but they carry with them an institution which may have its
value in ill-governed countries, but which in our colonies is an
unmitigated evil. I refer to their secret societies. A secret
society is ostensibly instituted under the form of a benevolent
association, but actually its members are banded together to obey
no laws but their own, to carry out the behests of their leaders
without question, and to afford protection to each other under all
circumstances. If a member of the secret society commit a crime he
is to be protected or hidden away; if he be taken by the police, the
society is bound to secure him the ablest legal assistance, furnish
as many false witnesses as may be required, and if he be convicted,
pay his fine, or do all in its power to alleviate the discomforts
of a prison. Therefore, flogging is the most deterrent form of
punishment, as it cannot be shared. Should the society suspect any
member of revealing its secrets, or from any cause desire to be rid
of an obnoxious person, it condemns the individual to death, and
sentence is carried out by its members, who, through fear of the last
penalty, always obey their oath. On these occasions the mark of the
society is put on the victim to show who has ordered the deed. In our
colonies we have not been altogether successful in putting down these
pernicious associations.
For many years the Chinese living in Kuching, the capital of Sarawak,
had attempted to form secret societies, but the Rajah’s vigorous hand
had crushed every attempt, and it appeared as if success had attended
his policy. This was the case so far as the Chinese of the capital
were concerned; but in the interior, among the gold workers, the
Kungsi performed the functions of a secret society, and its chiefs
carried on extensive correspondence with their fellow-countrymen in
Sambas and Pontianak, the neighbouring Dutch possessions, and with
the Tien-Ti-Hué (Heaven and Earth Secret Society) in Singapore.
When Mr Fox and I made a long tour, in July 1856, among the Chinese
settlements of the interior, we became convinced that opium
smuggling was being carried on to a great extent, as however numerous
might be the newcomers, the revenue from that source had a tendency
to decrease.
At last it was discovered that opium was sent from Singapore to the
Natuna Islands, and from thence it was smuggled into Sarawak and
the Dutch possessions of Sambas and Pontianak. It was proved that
the Kungsi had been engaged in this contraband trade, and it was
fined £150, a very trifling amount, considering the thousands it
had gained by defrauding the revenue, and measures were immediately
taken to suppress the traffic. This, and the punishment of three of
its members for a gross assault on another Chinaman, were the only
grounds of complaint which could be alleged against the Sarawak
Government.
But these trivial cases were not the real cause of the Chinese
insurrection in Sarawak. Before that date all the Celestials in the
East had been greatly excited by the announcement that the English
had retired from before Canton, and that the Viceroy of the province
had offered a reward of £25 for every Englishman slain. The news had
been greatly exaggerated. It was said we had been utterly defeated
by the Chinese forces, and now was the time, the Gold Company
thought, to expel the English from Sarawak and assume the government
themselves. The secret societies were everywhere in great excitement,
and the Tien-Ti-Hué sent emissaries over from Singapore and Malacca
to incite the gold workers to rebellion, and used the subtle, but
unfortunately cogent argument, that not only were the English crushed
at Canton, but that the British Government was so discontented with
the Rajah that it would not interfere, if the Kungsi only destroyed
him and his officers, and did not meddle with private English
interests or obstruct trade. Here we see another disastrous effect of
the Commission.
It was also currently reported that the Sultan of Sambas and his
Malay nobles offered every encouragement to the enterprise; and the
Chinese listened much to their advice, as these noblemen can speak
to the Celestials in their own language, and are themselves greatly
imbued with Chinese ideas. To explain this curious state of things,
it may be mentioned that the children of these nobles are always
nursed by girls chosen from among the healthiest of the daughters of
the Chinese gold workers. Further, about that time there was a very
active intercourse carried on between the Malay nobles of Sambas and
Pangeran Makota, the Rajah’s old enemy and the Sultan of Brunei’s
favourite minister, and the latter was constantly closeted with an
emissary of the Tien-Ti-Hué of Singapore, to whom I am about to refer.
To show that this was not a mere conjecture I may state that on the
14th of February 1857, four days before the insurrection in Sarawak,
a Chinese named Achang, who had arrived at Brunei from Singapore a
few days previously, and had a year before been expelled from Sarawak
for joining a secret society, came to my house to try and induce my
four Chinese servants to enter the Hué, adding as a sufficient reason
that the Gold Company of Sarawak would by that time have killed all
the white men in that country.
At Bau, the chief town of the Chinese in Sarawak, the secretary of
the Kungsi showed a letter from the Straits Branch of the Tien-Ti-Hué
to a Malay trader named Jeludin, urging them to act against
the foreigner. I mention these facts to show the extraordinary
ramifications of these secret societies, which in every country where
they exist are the source of endless trouble and disorder.
During the month of November 1856 rumours were abroad that the
Chinese Gold Company intended to surprise the small stockades which
constituted the only defences of the town of Kuching, and which, as
no enemy was suspected to exist in the country, were seldom guarded
by more than four men each. Mr Crookshank, who was then administering
the government, took the precaution (as has been stated) to man them
with a sufficient garrison, for it was said that during one of their
periodical religious feasts several hundred men were to collect
quietly, and make a rush for the arsenal. On the Rajah’s return from
Singapore he instituted some inquiries into the affair, but could
obtain no further information than such as vague rumour afforded.
He consequently reduced the garrisons, after punishing the Chinese
chiefs; but such experienced officers as Mr Crookshank and the chief
constable, Mr Middleton, were not satisfied, feeling that there was
mischief in the air; and Mr Charles Johnson wrote to me that if their
high tone was not lowered the Chinese would certainly do the country
a mischief.
I was sitting one day reading in my verandah, in the Consulate at
Brunei, when a Malay hastily entered and said, ‘I have just arrived
from Singapore.’ Whilst detained by very light winds we approached a
schooner coming from Sarawak, and one of the crew called out to us,
“The Chinese have risen against the Rajah and killed all the white
men.” He knew no more. This, coupled with what I had previously
heard of the conversations of the Hué leader, made me feel very
uncomfortable. I would have left for Sarawak at once, but there was
no means of direct communication. In a few days a hurried note from a
friend who had escaped to Singapore told me part of the catastrophe,
but it was not for two months that I had the full particulars in a
letter from the Rajah himself.
It appears that when the Kungsi saw their professions of loyalty
accepted, they began to prepare for hostile operations, and on the
morning of the 18th of February 1857 the chiefs assembled about six
hundred of their followers at Bau, their most important station, and
placing all the available weapons in their hands, marched them down
to their principal wharf at Tundong, where a squadron of their large
cargo boats was collected. It is now known that until they actually
began to descend the river none but the heads of the movement were
aware of its true object, so well had the secret been kept. To
account for the preparations, it was given out that an attack was
meditated on a Dyak village in Sambas, whose fighting men had in
reality killed some Chinese.
During their slow passage down the river, a Malay, who was accustomed
to trade with the Chinese, overtook them in a canoe, and actually
induced them to permit him to pass under the plea that his wife and
children lived in a place called Batu Kawa, eight miles above the
town, and would be frightened if they heard so many men passing, and
he was not there to reassure them. Instead of returning home, he
pulled down as fast as he could till he reached the town of Kuching,
and going straight to his relative, a Malay trader of the name of
Gapur, a trustworthy and brave man, told him what he had seen; but
Gapur said, ‘Don’t go and tell the chiefs or the Rajah such a tissue
of absurdities;’ yet he went himself over to the Datu Bandhar and
informed him. The chiefs answer was, ‘The Rajah is unwell; we have
heard similar reports for the last twenty years; don’t go and bother
him about it. In the morning I will tell him what your relative
says.’ This great security was caused by the universal belief that
the Chinese could not commit so egregious a folly as to attempt
to seize the Government of the country, considering that, with
agriculturists included, they did not number above four thousand,
while at that time the Malays and Dyaks within the Sarawak territory
amounted to two hundred thousand at least. It was strange, however,
and unpardonably negligent on the part of the Datu Bandhar not to
have sent a fast boat up the river to ascertain what was really going
on. Had he done so, the town and numerous lives would have been
saved, and punishment would only have fallen on the guilty.
Shortly after midnight the squadron of Chinese barges pulled silently
through the capital, and dividing into two bodies, the smaller
entered a creek, called Sungei Bedil, just above the Rajah’s house,
while the larger party continued its course to the landing-place of
the fort, and sent out strong detachments to surprise the houses of
Mr Crookshank, the magistrate, and Mr Middleton, the head constable,
and a large force was told off to attack the stockades. Unaccountable
as it may appear, none of these parties were noticed, so profound was
the security felt; and everyone slept.
The Government House was situated on a little grassy hill, surrounded
by small, neat cottages, in which visitors from the out-stations
were lodged. The Chinese, landing on the banks of the Bedil stream,
marched to the attack in a body of about a hundred, and passing by
an upper cottage, made an assault on the front and back of the long
Government House, the sole inhabitants of which were the Rajah and an
English servant. They did not surround the house, for their trembling
hearts made them fear to separate into small bodies, as the opinion
was rife among them that the Rajah was a man brave, active, skilled
in the use of weapons, and not to be overcome except by means of
numbers.
Roused from his slumbers by the unusual sounds of shouts and yells
at midnight, the Rajah looked out through the Venetian blinds, and
immediately conjectured what had occurred. Several times he raised
his revolver to fire at them, but convinced that he could not defend
the house alone he determined to effect his escape. He supposed
that men engaged in so desperate an enterprise would naturally take
every precaution to ensure its success, and concluded that bodies
of insurgents were silently watching the ends of the house; so,
summoning his English servant, he led the way down to a bath-room on
the ground floor which communicated with the lawn, and telling him to
open the door quickly and follow close, the Rajah sprang forth, with
sword drawn and revolver cocked, but found the coast clear. Had there
been twenty Chinese there, he would have passed through them, as his
quickness and practical skill in the use of weapons were unsurpassed.
Reaching the banks of the stream above his house he paused, observing
that it was full of Chinese boats; but presently, hearing his alarmed
servant, who had lost him in the darkness, calling to him, he knew
that the attention of the Chinese would be attracted that way, and
dived under the bows of one of the barges and swam to the opposite
shore unperceived. As he was then suffering from an attack of fever
and ague, he fell utterly exhausted, and lay for some time on the
muddy bank till, slightly recovering, he was able to reach the
Government writer’s house.
An amiable and promising young officer, Mr Nicoletts, who had but
just arrived from an out-station on a visit to the Rajah, was lodged
in a cottage near; startled by the sound of the attack, he rushed
forth to reach the chief’s house, but was intercepted and killed
by the Chinese, who severed his head from his body, and bore it on
a pike in triumph as that of the Rajah. Mr Steel, the Resident on
the Rejang, and an experienced officer, quietly looked through the
window of his cottage, and seeing what was passing, slipped out of
the house, and soon found himself sheltered by the jungle; and the
Rajah’s servant, whose shouts had drawn the Chinese towards him,
had to display very unwonted activity before he could reach the
protecting forest and join Mr Steel.
The other attacks took place simultaneously. Mr and Mrs Crookshank,
rushing forth on hearing this midnight alarm, were cut down, the
latter left for dead, the former seriously wounded. The constable’s
house was attacked; he and his wife escaped, but their two children
and an English lodger were killed by the insurgents.
Here occurred a scene which showed how cruel were these Chinese. When
the rebels burst into Mr Middleton’s house he fled, and his wife,
following, found herself in the bath-room, and by the shouts was
soon convinced that her retreat had been cut off. In the meantime
the Chinese had seized her two children, and brought the eldest down
into the bath-room to show them the way by which the father had
escaped. Mrs Middleton’s sole refuge was a large water jar, which
happened to be full, and she only raised her mouth above water to
draw breath; there she heard the poor little boy questioned, pleading
for his life, and heard his shriek, when the fatal sword was raised
which severed his head from his body. With loud laughter these fiends
kicked the little head from one to the other, and then rushed out in
pursuit of Mr Middleton. Fortunately the bath-room was in darkness,
so the mother escaped unseen. The Chinese then set fire to the house,
and she distinctly heard the shrieks of her second child as they
tossed him into the flames. Mrs Middleton remained in the jar till
the falling embers forced her to leave it. She ran to a neighbouring
pond and, fortunately, was thus sheltered from the savages who
were rushing round the burning dwelling. Her escape was indeed
extraordinary.
The stockades, however, were not surprised. The Chinese, waiting for
the signal which was to be the attack on the houses, were at length
perceived by a sentinel, and he immediately roused the Treasurer,
Mr Crymble, who resided in the stockade which contained the arsenal
and the prison. He endeavoured to make some preparation for defence,
although he had but four Malays with him. He had scarcely time,
however, to load a six-pounder field-piece, and get his own rifle
ready, before the Chinese, with loud shouts, rushed to the assault.
They were led by a man who bore in either hand a flaming torch. Mr
Crymble waited until they were within forty yards; he then fired and
killed the man who, by the lights he bore, made himself conspicuous,
and before the crowd recovered from the confusion in which they
were thrown by the fall of their leader, discharged among them the
six-pounder loaded with grape, which made the assailants retire
behind the neighbouring houses or hide in the outer ditches. But
with four men little could be done; and some of the rebels, having
crossed the inner ditch, began to remove the planks which constituted
the sole defence. To add to the garrison’s difficulties, they threw
over into the inner court little iron tripods, with flaming torches
attached, which rendered it as light as day, whilst they remained
shrouded in darkness.
To increase the number of defenders Mr Crymble released the sole
occupants of the prison—a fraudulent debtor and a Malay madman who
had killed his wife in a fit of fury. The former quickly disappeared,
whilst the latter, regardless of the shot flying around, stood to
the post assigned him, opposite a plank the Chinese were trying
to remove. He had orders to fire as soon as the first assailant
appeared, and when the plank gave way and a man attempted to force
his body through, he pulled the trigger of his carbine, without
lowering the muzzle, and sent the ball through his own brains. Mr
Crymble now found it useless to prolong the struggle. One of his
four men was killed, and another, a brave Malay corporal, was shot
down at his side. The wounded man begged Mr Crymble to fly and leave
him to his fate, but asked him to shake hands with him first and
tell him whether he had not done his duty. The brave Irishman seized
him by the arm and endeavoured to drag him up the stairs leading to
the dwelling over the gate; but the Chinese had already gained the
courtyard, and pursuing them, drove their spears through the wounded
man. Mr Crymble was forced to let go his hold, and with a brave
follower, Daud, swung himself down into the ditch below. Some of the
rebels outside the fort, seeing their attempted escape, tried to stop
the Treasurer, and a man stabbed at him, but the spear only glanced
on his thick frieze coat, and the Chinese received in return a cut
across the face from the Irishman’s cutlass which was a remembrance
to carry to the grave.
The other stockade, though it had but a corporal’s watch of three
Malays, did not surrender; but finding that every other place was in
the hands of the Chinese, the brave defenders opened the gate, and,
charging the crowd of rebels, sword in hand, made good their escape,
though all were severely wounded.
The confusion which reigned throughout the rest of the town may be
imagined, as, startled by the shouts and yells of the Chinese, the
inhabitants rushed to the doors and windows and beheld night turned
into day by the bright flames which rose in three directions—where
the Rajah’s, Crookshank’s and Middleton’s large houses were all
burning at the same time.
It was at first very naturally thought that the Chinese contemplated
a massacre of the Europeans, but messengers were soon despatched
to them by the Kungsi to say that nothing was further from their
intention than to interfere with those who were unconnected with the
Government, which refinement of policy shows that the plan had been
concocted by more subtle brains than those possessed by the gold
workers of Bau.
The Rajah had, as soon as possible, proceeded to the Datu Bandhar’s
house, and being quickly joined by his English officers, endeavoured
to organise a force with which to surprise the victorious Chinese;
but it was impossible. No sooner did he collect a few men than their
wives and children surrounded them and refused to be left behind; and
being without proper arms and ammunition, it was but a panic-stricken
mob. So he instantly took his determination, with that decision which
had been the foundation of his success, and, giving up the idea of an
immediate attack, advised the removal of the women to the left-hand
bank of the river, where they would be safe from a land attack of the
Chinese, who could make their way along the right-hand bank of the
river by a road which ran at the back of the town.
This removal was accomplished by the morning, when the small party
of English under the Rajah walked over to the little river of Siol,
which falls into the Santubong branch of the Sarawak river. At the
mouth of the Siol the Rajah found the war boat of Abang Buyong, with
sixty men, waiting for him, which was soon joined by six others
and many canoes, for no sooner did the Malays of the neighbouring
villages hear where the Rajah was than they began flocking to him.
He now started for the Samarahan, intending to proceed to the Balang
Lupar to organise an expedition from the well-supplied forts there.
On their way they rested at the little village of Sabang, and to the
honour of the Malay character I must add that never during the height
of his power and prosperity did he receive so much sympathy, tender
attention and delicate generosity as now, when a defeated fugitive.
They vied with each other as to who should supply him and his party
with clothes and food, since they had lost all; and if to know that
he was enshrined in the hearts of the people was any consolation to
him in his misfortunes, he then had ample proofs of it. No wonder
that in reading these accounts the _Daily News_, hitherto so hostile
to him, should say, ‘We have sincere pleasure in proclaiming our
unreserved admiration of the manner in which he must have exercised
his power to have produced such fruits.’
When morning broke in Kuching, there was a scene of the wildest
confusion. The six hundred rebels, joined by the Chinese vagabonds
of the town, half-stupefied by opium, were wandering about in every
direction, discharging their muskets loaded with ball cartridges.
But at eight o’clock the chiefs of the Gold Company sent a message
to the Bishop of Sarawak, requesting him to come down and attend the
wounded. He did so, and found thirty-two stretched out, most of them
from shot wounds; but among them he noticed a man with a gash across
his face from the last blow Mr Crymble had struck at the rebels; and
before the Bishop’s arrival they had buried five of their companions.
Poor Mrs Crookshank had lain on the ground all night, desperately
wounded, and with extraordinary coolness and courage had shammed
death whilst the rebels tore the rings from her fingers, or cut
at her head with their swords. Her life was saved by her mass of
braided hair. Early in the morning her servant found her still
living, and went and informed the Bishop, who had great difficulty in
persuading the Kungsi to allow him to send for her. She arrived in
the mission house in a dreadful state.
It was soon evident that, in the intoxication of victory, the Chinese
aimed now, if not before, at the complete domination of the country,
and summoned the Bishop, Mr Helms, agent for the Borneo Company, Mr
Ruppell, an English resident, and the Datu Bandhar to appear at the
Court House. The Europeans were obliged to attend the summons. The
Malay chief also came, but with great reluctance, and contrary to the
advice of the Datu Imaum, his more energetic brother; but he thought
it expedient to gain time.
The Chinese chiefs, even in their most extravagant moments of
exultation, were in great fear that on their return up the river the
Malays might attack them in their crowded boats and destroy them, as
on the water they felt their inferiority to their maritime enemies.
It must have been an offensive sight to the Europeans and the Malays
to witness the arrangements in the Court House on that day of
disaster. In the Rajah’s chair sat the chief of the Gold Company,
supported on either side by the writers or secretaries, while the
representatives of the now apparently subdued sections took their
places on the side benches. The Chinese chief then issued his
orders, which were that Mr Helms and Mr Ruppell should undertake
to rule the foreign portion of the town, and that the Datu Bandhar
should manage the Malays, while the Gold Company, as supreme rulers,
should superintend the whole and govern exclusively the up-country
districts. During this time the Europeans could see the head of Mr
Nicoletts carried about on a pole to reassure the Chinese that the
dreaded Rajah had really been killed. The Chinese chiefs knew better,
but they thought to impose upon their ignorant followers.
Everything now appeared to be arranged, when the Bishop remarked that
perhaps Mr Charles Johnson might not quite approve of the conduct
of the Chinese in killing his uncle and friends. At the mention
of Johnson’s name there was a pause. A blankness came over their
countenances, and they looked at each other as they now remembered,
apparently for the first time, that he, the Rajah’s nephew, was the
resolute and popular ruler of the Sakarangs, and could let loose at
least ten thousand wild warriors upon them. At last it was suggested,
after an animated discussion, that a letter should be sent to him
requesting him to confine himself to his own government, and then
they would not attempt to interfere with him.
They appeared also to have forgotten that there were Sadong, under
Mr Fox, and Rejang, under Mr Steel, who, between them, could bring
thousands into the field, and that Seribas also was panting for an
opportunity to find fresh enemies. All this never seemed to have
occurred to them before undertaking their insensate expedition.
The Chinese were very anxious to have matters settled at Kuching,
as, with all their boasts, they were not feeling comfortable. They
were not only anxious to secure the plunder they had obtained, but
the leaders knew that the Rajah was not killed, and what he might
be preparing was uncertain. They therefore called upon the European
gentlemen and the Malay chiefs present to swear fidelity to the Gold
Company, and under the fear of instant death they were obliged to go
through the formula of taking oaths with the sacrifice of fowls.
Next day the rebels retired up-country unmolested by the Malays, and
a meeting was at once held at the Datu Bandhar’s house to discuss
future proceedings. At first no one spoke. There was a gloom over
the assembly, as the mass of the population was deserting the town,
carrying off their women and children to the neighbouring district
of Samarahan as a place of safety, when Abang Patah, son of the Datu
Tumangong, addressed his countrymen. He was a sturdy man, with a
pleasant, cheerful countenance, and a warm friend to English rule,
and his first words were, ‘Are we going to submit to be governed by
Chinese chiefs, or are we to remain faithful to our Rajah? I am a man
of few words, and I say I will never be governed by anyone but by
him, and to-night I commence war to the knife against his enemies.’
The unanimous determination of the assembly was to remain faithful
to the Rajah, but they were divided as to the course to be pursued.
Patah, however, unfortunately, cut the knot of the difficulty by
manning a light war boat with a dozen Malays, and proceeding at once
up the river, attacked and captured a Chinese boat, killing five
of its crew. In the meantime all the women and children had been
removed from the town, and some trading prahus were manned and armed
but imperfectly, as the Chinese had taken away the contents of the
arsenal, and the chief portion of the crews of the war boats were
engaged in conveying the fugitives to Samarahan.
Patah’s bold act was no doubt well meaning, but was decidedly
premature, as the Malays, being scattered, could not organise any
resistance, and urgent entreaties were made to the Rajah to return
and head this movement. He complied, as he could not even appear to
abandon those who were fighting so bravely for him; but he knew it
was useless, and arrived at Kuching to find the rest of the English
flying, the town in the hands of the Chinese, and smoke rising in
every direction from the burning Malay houses.
It appears that when the news reached the Chinese that the Malays
were preparing to resist their rule, they determined to return
immediately to Kuching, and attack them before their preparations
could be completed. They divided their forces into two bodies, as
they were now recruited by several hundreds of men from other gold
workings, and had forced the agriculturists established at Sungei
Tungah to join them; in fact, their great boats could not hold half
their numbers, so one body marched by a new road which had been
opened to the town, while the other came down by the river.
As soon as the Malays saw the Chinese barges rounding the point above
the town they boldly dashed at them, forced them to the river banks,
drove out the crews, and triumphantly captured ten of the largest
cargo boats. The Chinese, better armed, kept up a hot fire from the
rising ground, and killed several of the boldest Malays, among others
Abang Gapoor, whose disbelief in his kinsman’s story enabled the
rebels to surprise the capital, and who to his last breath bewailed
his fatal mistake; and one who was equally to be regretted, our
faithful old follower, Kassim. The latter lingered long enough to
see the Rajah again successful, and he said he died happy in knowing
it. Notwithstanding their losses, the Malays towed away the barges,
laden, fortunately, with some of the most valuable booty, and secured
them to a large trading prahu, anchored in the centre of the river.
Having thus captured some superior arms and ammunition they could
better reply to the fire of their enemies who lined the banks.
In the meantime the Rajah arrived opposite the Chinese quarter, and
found a complete panic prevailing, and all those Malays and Dyaks who
had preceded him flying in every direction. Having in vain attempted
to restore order, he drew up his boat on the opposite bank to cover
the retreat, and after a sharp exchange of musketry fire he returned
to Samarahan to carry out his original intention.
The Rajah joined the fugitives, and his first care was to see to the
safety of the English ladies, the children, the non-combatants and
wounded, and to send them off, under the charge of Bishop Macdougall
and others, to the secure and well-armed fort of Linga. He now felt
somewhat relieved, as he knew that there his charges would be in
perfect safety, as they were surrounded by faithful and brave men,
who could have defended the fort against any attack. There were no
enemies at Linga, except such as existed in the imaginations of the
terror-stricken runaways from Sarawak, who had not yet recovered from
their panic.
The Rajah prepared on the following day to take the same route, in
order to obtain a base of operations and a secure spot where he
could rally the people and await a fresh supply of arms. It was sad,
however, to think of the mischief which might happen during this
period of enforced inaction, particularly as the Datu Bandhar and a
chosen band were still in Kuching on board the large trading vessel,
which was surrounded by lighter war prahus. Here was our gentle
Bandhar, a man whom no one suspected of such energy, showing the
courage of his father, Patingi Ali, who was killed during Keppel’s
Sakarang expedition, and directing attacks on the Chinese whenever an
opportunity offered. Thus harassed, the rebels were dragging up heavy
guns, and it was evident the Malays could not hold out for many days,
particularly as there was now little to defend; the flames which
reddened the horizon, and the increasing volumes of smoke, told the
tale too well that the Malay town was being completely destroyed.
With feelings of the most acute distress the Rajah gave the order for
departure, and the small flotilla fell down the river Samarahan, and
arriving at its mouth put out to sea, when a cry arose among the men,
‘Smoke! smoke! It is a steamer!’ And sure enough there was a dark
column rising in the air from a three-masted vessel. For a moment
it was uncertain which course she was steering, but presently they
distinguished her flag—she was the _Sir James Brooke_, the Borneo
Company’s steamer, standing in for the Muaratabas entrance of the
Sarawak river. The crew of the Rajah’s prahu, with shouts, gave way,
and the boat was urged along with all the power of their oars, to
find the vessel anchored just within the mouth.
‘The great God be praised!’ as the Rajah said. Here, indeed, was a
base of operations. The native prahus were taken in tow, and the
reinforcements of Dyaks, who were already arriving, followed up with
eager speed. What were the feelings of the Chinese when they first
saw the smoke, then the steamer, it is not necessary to conjecture.
They fired one wild volley from every available gun and musket, but
the balls fell harmlessly; and when the English guns opened on them,
they fled panic-stricken, pursued by the rejoicing Malays and Dyaks.
Early that morning a large body of Chinese had proceeded from the
right to the left bank to burn the half of the Malay town which had
hitherto escaped destruction, but though they succeeded in destroying
the greater portion, they signed their own death warrant, as the
Malays, at the sight of the steamer, resumed the offensive, seized
the boats in which their enemies had crossed the river, and the Dyaks
followed them up in the forest. Not one of that party could have
escaped. Some wandered long in the jungle and died of starvation;
others were found hanging to the boughs of trees, having preferred
suicide to the lingering torments of hunger. All these bodies were
afterwards discovered, as they were eagerly sought for. The natives
said that on every one of them were found from five to twenty pounds
sterling in cash, from the pillage of the public treasury, besides
silver spoons and forks, or other valuables—the plunder of the
English houses.
The main body of the Chinese on the right bank retired in some order
by the jungle road, and reached a detachment of their boats which had
been sent from the interior to its terminus, and from thence moved on
to Balidah, opposite Siniawan, the fort famous in Sarawak history,
which the Rajah had besieged on his first arrival, and which after
the insurrection was over became the headquarters of Charles Grant,
Resident of Upper Sarawak.
Thus was the capital recovered, all burnt, however, except the
Chinese quarter of the town, and the Mission and Mr Helms’s Borneo
Company’s premises. The Rajah established himself temporarily on
board the _Sir James Brooke_, and the Government soon began to work
again. The Land Dyaks, who had been faithful to a man, sent to
request permission to attack the enemy. This being accorded, the
chiefs led their assembled tribes, and rushed in every direction
on the Chinese, driving them from their villages, and compelling
them to defend two places only, Siniawan and Bau, with Tundong, the
landing-place of the latter town. The smoke rising in every direction
showed them that they were now being punished for the injuries they
had inflicted on others. The Gold Company, in their blind confidence,
had made no preparations in case of defeat, and it was well known
that their stock of food was small, as everything had been destroyed
at the above-named places except their own stores, and these were
required to supply the people whom they had forced to join them from
the town, and the whole agricultural population.
The harassing life they led must soon have worn them out without any
attacks, for they could no longer pursue their ordinary occupations,
or even fetch firewood or water without a strong-armed party, as
the Dyaks hung about their houses, and infested every spot. It soon
became a question of food, and they found they must either obtain it
or retire across the frontier into Sambas. They therefore collected
all their boats and made a foray eight miles down the river to Ledah
Tanah, and there threw up a stockade in which they placed a garrison
of two hundred and fifty picked men, under two of their most trusted
leaders. They placed four guns in position to sweep the river, and,
armed with the best of the Government’s muskets and rifles, they not
only commanded the right and left-hand branches, but felt secure
from a direct attack by the main river. Parties were then sent
out to plunder the Dyak farmhouses, and one bolder than the rest
attempted to scale the mountain of Serambo to destroy the Rajah’s
country house; but the Dyaks barred the passage with stockades, and
by rolling down rocks on the advancing party effectually defended
their hill. These Chinese were very different from those we see
in our British settlements. Many of them were half breeds, having
Dyak mothers, and were as active in the jungle as the aborigines
themselves.
To check the Chinese forays, and afford assistance to the Land Dyaks,
the Rajah sent up the Datu Bandhar with a small but select force
to await his arrival below the Chinese stockade; but the gallant
Bandhar, on being joined by the Datu Tumangong and Abang Buyong, and
a few Sakarang Dyaks, dashed at the fort, surprised the garrison at
dinner, and carried it without the loss of a man. The Chinese threw
away their arms and fled into the jungle, to be pursued and slain
by the Sakarang Dyaks. Stockades, guns, stores and boats were all
captured, and what was of equal importance, the principal instigators
of the rebellion were killed.
As soon as the few that escaped from the fort reached Siniawan, a
panic seized the Chinese there, and they fled to Bau, where they
began hastily to make preparations to retire over the frontiers. The
Rajah, who was hurrying up to the support of the Bandhar, hearing
of his success, despatched Mr Johnson with his Dyaks to harass the
enemy; these, together with the Sarawak Malays, to whom most of the
credit is due, pressed on the discomfited Chinese, who, fearing to
have their retreat cut off, started for Sambas. They were attacked at
every step, but being supplied with the best arms, they were enabled
to beat off the foremost parties of their assailants, and retire
in fair order along the good road which led to the Dyak village of
Gumbang on the Sambas frontier. Still, this road is very narrow, and
every now and then the active Dyaks made a rush from the jungle that
borders the path and spread confusion and dismay. But the Chinese had
every motive to act a manly part; it was their only line of retreat,
and they had to defend above a thousand of their women and children,
who encumbered their disastrous flight.
At the foot of the steep hill of Gumbang they made a halt, for the
usual path was found to be well stockaded, and a resolute body of
Malays and Dyaks were there to dispute the way. It was a fearful
position; behind them the pursuers were gathering in increasing
strength, and unless they forced this passage within an hour, it must
be death or surrender. At last someone, it is said a Sambas Malay,
suggested that there was another path further along the range, which,
though very steep, was practicable; this was undefended, and the
fugitives made for it.
The Sarawak Malays and Dyaks, seeing too late their error in
neglecting to fortify this path also, rushed along the brow of
the hill, and drove back the foremost Chinese. Their danger was
extreme; but at that moment, as if by inspiration, all the Chinese
girls rushed to the front, and encouraged the men to advance. This
they again did, and cheered by the voices of these brave girls,
who followed close clapping their hands, and calling them by name
to fight with courage, they won the brow of the hill, and cleared
the path of their less numerous foes. While this was going on,
another column of Chinese, in the absence of most of its defenders,
surprised the village of Gumbang, burnt it to the ground and then
crossed the frontier. They were but just in time, as the pursuers
were pressing hotly on the rearguard, and the occasional volleys
of musketry told them that the well-armed Malays were upon them;
but they were now comparatively safe, as they were all clear of the
Sarawak frontier, and although a few still pursued them, the main
body of the Malays and Dyaks would not enter Dutch territory, and
halted on the summit of the Gumbang range.
The miserable fugitives, reduced to two thousand, of whom above half
were women and children, sat down among the houses of the village of
Sidin, and many of them, it is said, wept not only for the loss of
friends and goods, which they had suffered owing to the insensate
ambition of the Gold Company, but also because they had to give up
all hope of ever returning to their old peaceful homes.
That Company, which on the night of the surprise had numbered six
hundred, was now reduced to a band of about one hundred, but these
kept well together, and being better armed than the others, formed
the principal guard of the Tai-pé-Kong, a sacred stone, which they
had, through all their disasters, preserved from the profane hands
of their enemies. Several times the assailants, who mistook it for
the gold chest, were on the point of capturing it, but on the cry
being raised that the Tai-pé-Kong was in peril, the men gathered
round and carried it securely through all danger. At Sidin, however,
all immediate apprehension being over, the discontent of those who
had been forced to join the rebels burst forth without control, so
that from words they soon came to blows, and the small band of the
Company’s men was again reduced by thirty or forty from the anger of
their countrymen.
Continuing their disorderly retreat, they were met by the officers
of the Dutch Government, who very properly took from them all their
plunder and arms, and being uncertain which was their own property,
erred on the safe side by stripping them of everything. The Dutch
officers sent back to Sarawak all the loot the Chinese had taken
either from the Government or from private individuals.
Thus terminated the most criminal and causeless rebellion that
ever occurred, which during its continuance displayed every phase
of Chinese character, arrogance, secrecy, combination, an utter
incapability of looking to the consequences of events or actions, and
a belief in their own power and courage which every event belied. The
Chinese, under their native leaders, have never fought even decently,
and yet up to the very moment of trial they act as if they were
invincible.
This insurrection showed, in my belief, that though the Chinese
always require watching, they are not in any way formidable as an
enemy; and it also proved how firmly the Sarawak Government was
rooted in the hearts of the people, since in the darkest hour
there was no whisper of wavering. Had the Chinese been five times
as numerous, there were forces in the background which would have
destroyed them all. Before the Chinese had fled across the frontier,
the Seribas and Sakarang Malays and Dyaks, under Mr Johnson, had
arrived, and the people of Sadong were marching overland to attack
them in rear, while the distant out-stations were mustering strong
forces, which arrived to find all danger past.
I believe that it was almost worth the disaster to show how uniform
justice and generous consideration are appreciated by the Malays
and Dyaks, and how firmly they may become attached to a Government,
which, besides having their true interests at heart, encourages and
requires all its officers to treat them as equals. The conduct of the
Malay fortmen, of Kasim and Gapoor, the generous enthusiasm of Abang
Patah, the gallant rush at the Ledah Tanah stockade by the Bandhar
and his followers, showed what the Rajah had effected during his
tenure of power. He had raised the character of the Malay, and turned
a race notorious for its lawlessness into some of the best-conducted
people in the world.
I may add that the results of the Chinese insurrection were very
curious in a financial point of view. Though about three thousand
men were killed or driven from the country, yet as soon as quiet was
thoroughly restored, the revenue from the Chinese soon rose, instead
of falling, which proves what an extensive system of smuggling had
been carried on. The breaking up of the Gold Company was felt by all
the natives as a great relief. It is worthy of remark that while the
Chinese were still unsubdued in the interior, boats full of their
armed countrymen arrived from Sambas, fully believing that Kuching
was now in the hands of the Kungsi, but on their proceeding up the
river to join them, were met by the Malays, driven back and utterly
defeated.
The Dutch authorities behaved with thorough neighbourly kindness on
this occasion, for as soon as they heard of the rebellion of the
Chinese, they sent round a steamer and a detachment of soldiers to
the assistance of the Sarawak authorities. Fortunately by that time
all danger was past, but the kindness of the action was not the less
appreciated. H.M.S. _Spartan_, Captain Sir William Hoste, also came
over to Sarawak, but I fear that his instructions were less generous:
he could aid in protecting British subjects, but not the Government
of Sarawak. The shadow of that baneful Commission still hung over the
operations of our navy.
While the Rajah was struggling with all these difficulties, the _Sir
James Brooke_, which had been sent to Singapore for supplies, now
returned, bringing a large party to join him—his nephew, Captain
Brooke, and Mrs Brooke, Mr Grant, Mr Hay, a new recruit, of whom
the Rajah said: ‘A gentlemanly man, young, of good family, and of
the right stamp,’ in truth, the only class of officer suitable for
the work. There came also many people connected with the Borneo
Company, including Mr Harvey, the managing director, Mr Duguid, the
head of the Sarawak branch, and others. In giving me an account of
the arrivals, the Rajah wrote: ‘Our domestic intelligence is of the
best and pleasantest. Brooke’s wife is a sweet, sensible, but playful
creature, charming in manners.’
When the news of the Chinese insurrection reached Seribas, all the
chiefs were anxious to go to the help of the Government, and while
many of them were away in Sarawak, our old Sakarang adversary,
Rentab, of Lang Fort reputation, attacked the villages of our
friends. The Rajah therefore determined to punish him, and started
for Seribas himself to encourage the well intentioned, and Captain
Brooke visited the Rejang, while Mr Charles Johnson was ordered to
attack Sadok, the chief’s mountain stronghold, with his Malays and
Dyaks. The attack failed, however, though Charles Johnson exposed
himself to every danger to secure success.
I went down to Sarawak by the first opportunity, and reached it
in July, to find everything proceeding as if no insurrection had
occurred. Though the Malay town had been burnt to the ground, yet
the inhabitants had soon recovered their energy, and had rebuilt
their houses, which, though not so substantial as the former ones,
still looked very neat. Some things were missed in the landscape:
the handsome Government House, with its magnificent library,
had disappeared; and there were other gaps to be filled up, but
fortunately the Chinese had had no time to destroy the church, the
mission house, or the Borneo Company’s premises.
I never saw a more perfect library than that destroyed by the
Chinese, perfect in everything—the best historians and essayists,
all the poets, the most celebrated voyages and travels, books of
reference, and a whole library of theology and law, as well as a
goodly array of the best novels. Besides losing his beloved library,
the Rajah was at the same time deprived of all the records of
his previous life, for he had collected his journals and papers,
and these shared the fate of his books. He was, as I have said,
a great reader, and had latterly devoted himself to the study of
international law. He remembered the salient points of a question
with great accuracy, and could explain clearly every subject he
studied. He had a wonderful gift of language.
I found, as I had expected, that the loss of worldly wealth had had
little effect on my old chief, who was as cheerful and contented in
his little, comfortless cottage as he had ever been in Government
House. His health, which before the insurrection had not been strong,
had wonderfully improved through his great exertions in endeavouring
to restore the country to its former prosperous state, and I never
saw him more full of bodily energy and mental vigour than during
the two months I spent in Sarawak in 1857. Everyone took the tone
of the leader. There were no useless regrets over losses, and it
was amusing to hear the congratulations of the Malay chiefs,—‘Ah,
Mr St John, you were born under a fortunate star to leave Sarawak
just before the evil days came upon us.’ Then they would recount the
personal incidents which had occurred to themselves, and tell with
great amusement the shifts to which they had been put for the want of
every household necessary. There was a cheerfulness and a hope in the
future which promised well for the country.
I found that the deserted gardens around the town had been in part
reoccupied, for already Chinese were cultivating them. In order to
avoid interrupting the narrative, I have not before noticed that
during the height of the insurrection, when the rebels had only been
driven from the town a few days, news came that several hundred
Chinese, fugitives from the Dutch territories, had crossed the
frontier near the sources of the left-hand branch of the Sarawak,
and were seeking the protection of the Rajah’s Government. Though
harassed by incessant work, he did not neglect their appeal, but
immediately despatched trustworthy men; and they were thus safely
piloted through the excited Dyaks, who thought that every man that
‘wore a tail’ should now be put to death. No incident could better
illustrate the great influence possessed by the Rajah over Dyaks and
Malays, or his thoughtful care for the true interests of his country,
during even the most trying circumstances.
When the insurrection was completely over, the Rajah sent Sherif
Moksain to Sambas with communications for the Dutch authorities.
As the Sherif had been at one time in charge of the Chinese in
the interior he knew them well, and he said it was distressing to
see the unfortunate agriculturists, who had been made to join the
rebels, lamenting their expulsion from the country. They begged for
permission to return, and subsequently many did, and established
themselves in their old quarters.
Thus ended the second plot against the Rajah’s life and authority,
the direct outcome of the loss of prestige and strength which
followed the appointment of the commission sent to try him for high
crimes and misdemeanours, the favourable findings of which had never
been brought home to the native mind by any act of reparation made by
the British Government.