We have learned from the sad experience of centuries that nominal
Christianity, which men call religion, is utterly powerless to stop
warfare; it may, in a few instances, have lessened some of its horrors,
but only a few. The annals of the wars which have taken place for the
last three hundred years since the world has improved in civilisation,
show that nations rush into war as eagerly as ever, and that cruelties
and abominations of all sorts, such as the fiercest savages cannot
surpass, are committed by men who profess to be Christians. Read the
accounts of the wars of the Duke of Alva and his successors in the
Netherlands, the civil wars of France, the foreign wars of Napoleon, the
deeds of horror done at the storming and capture of towns during the war
in the Peninsula, not only by Frenchmen and Spaniards, but by the
British soldiers, and indeed the accounts of all the wars in the pages
of history, and we shall learn what a fearful and dreadful thing war is,
and strive to assist the spread of the true principles of the Gospel as
the only means of putting a stop to it.
Such thoughts as these had been occupying my mind on board the brig, on
the morning of that eventful day of which I have just been speaking.
Here was I, a peace-loving man, engaged in a peaceable occupation, and
yet finding myself continually in the midst of fighting, and now there
was every probability of my having to engage in a desperate battle, the
termination of which it was impossible to foretell. As I reached the
deck I could see a number of dark phantom-looking objects gliding slowly
over the water towards us almost noiselessly, the only sound heard being
that produced by their oars as they dipped into the water. The pirates,
for such we were still certain they must be, expected, perhaps, to find
us asleep. The guns were loaded and run out as before. The men stood
with their muskets in their hands, and pikes and cutlasses ready for
use. The strangers drew closer and closer. They still hoped, we
concluded, to catch us unprepared. We, however, did not wish to begin
the combat unless they gave us indubitable signs of their intentions.
The elder Van Deck, who had, I found, been a naval man, took the
command, and everybody on board looked up to him. We were not left long
in doubt that the strangers were pirates, and purposed to destroy us.
Not, however, till they were close to us with the evident intention of
boarding did our chief give the order to fire. The effect was to make
them sheer off, but only for a moment. Directly afterwards they
arranged themselves on our starboard bow and quarter, and commenced a
fire with gingalls, matchlocks, and guns of various sorts, sending
missiles of all shapes and sizes on board us. Our men kept firing away
bravely, but in a short time, so rapid was the fire kept up on us, that
three or four were killed and several wounded. I was standing near the
brave Dutchman when a dart shot from a gun struck him, and he fell to
the deck. I ran to raise him up, but he had ceased to breathe. His
death soon becoming known among the crew, their fire visibly slackened.
The pirates probably perceived this, and with fearful cries came dashing
alongside. The Javanese are brave fellows, and though they knew that
death awaited them, they drew their swords and daggers and met the enemy
as they sprang upon our deck. On came the pirates in overwhelming
numbers, their sharp kreeses making fearful havoc among our poor
fellows. I saw that all was lost. I was still unwounded. Rather than
fall alive into the hands of the pirates, as with the survivors of the
crew I was driven across the deck, I determined to leap overboard, and
endeavour to swim to land. That was not a moment for considering the
distance or the dangers to be encountered. Death was certain if I
remained in the ship. Unnoticed by the enemy, I threw myself overboard,
and struck out in the direction, as I believed, of the shore. I was a
good swimmer, but light as were my clothes, I was not aware of the
impediment they would prove to me. Already I was beginning to grow
tired, and to feel that I could not reach the shore. Yet life was
sweet, very sweet, in prospect I prayed for strength, and resolved to
struggle on as long as I could move an arm. I threw myself on my back
to float. I could see the brig, at no great distance, surrounded by the
prahus. All sounds of strife had ceased. Only the confused murmurs of
many tongues moving at once reached my ears. Now that I had ceased for
a few minutes to exert myself, two fearful ideas occurred to me: one,
that I might be swimming from the land, the other, that at any moment a
shark might seize me and carry me to the depths below. Had I allowed my
mind to dwell on these ideas, I should speedily have lost courage, but
instead I had recourse to the only means by which, under similar trials
and dangers, a man can hope to be supported. I turned my thoughts
upwards, and prayed earnestly for protection and deliverance.
I was striking out gently with my feet to keep myself moving through the
water when my head struck something floating on the surface. I turned
round, and found that it was one of the long bamboo buoys employed by
the native fishermen on the coast to mark where their nets, or fish
traps, are placed. They are very long and buoyant, and capable of
supporting more than one man with ease. I threw my arms over the one I
had found, and was grateful that I had thus found an object by means of
which my life might possibly be preserved.
I looked round me; the prahus and brig were still to be seen, but after
watching them for some time, they appeared to be drifting away with the
faint land breeze from the spot where I lay. Thus was the danger of
being seen by them at daylight lessened. Hitherto I had feared, among
other things, should I be unable to swim on shore, that when the pirates
discovered me in the morning they would send a boat and give me a
quieting knock on the head. Still my position was a very dreadful one.
Any moment a passing shark might seize hold of me; that I escaped was
owing, I think, humanly speaking, to my having on dark clothes, and my
having kept constantly splashing with my legs. I was afraid of resting,
also, lest I should lose consciousness, and, letting go my hold of the
bamboo, be swept away by the tide.
At length, when my legs became weary of moving about, I thought that I
would try the effect of my voice in keeping the sharks at a distance. I
first ascertained that the pirate prahus had drifted to such a distance
that I was not likely to be heard by them, then I began shouting away at
the top of my voice.
What was my surprise, as soon as I stopped, to hear an answer! For a
moment I fancied that it must be some mockery of my imagination; then
again I heard the voice say, "What, Braithwaite! is that you?"
It must be, I knew, my friend Van Deck who spoke, yet the voice sounded
hollow and strange, very unlike his.
I can scarcely describe the relief I felt at discovering, in the first
place that my friend had escaped, and then on finding that a civilised
human being was near me. I could not tell whether he knew that his
brother was killed. I did not allude to the subject. We did our best
to encourage each other. We would gladly have got nearer together to
talk with more ease, but were afraid of letting go our hold of the
support, frail though it seemed, to which we clung. Van Deck encouraged
me by the assurance that it would soon be daylight, and that at early
dawn the fishermen would come off to examine the nets.
"They bear the Dutch, I am sorry to say, no good will," he observed.
"We are accused too justly of laying the produce of their industry under
tribute; but they will respect you as an Englishman, and for your sake
save the lives of both of us. Till I found that you had escaped I was
very anxious on that score."
As I have said, we talked continually, for silence was painful, as I
could not tell when my companion's voice was silent whether he had been
drawn down suddenly by a shark, or had sunk overcome by fatigue. Even
with conversation kept up in this way the time passed very slowly by.
How much worse off I should have been alone! At length Van Deck
exclaimed that he saw the dawn breaking in the sky. Rapidly after this
objects became more and more distinct; the tall bamboo buoys, with their
tufts of dry grass at the top, floating on the glassy water; then I
could distinguish my companion's head and shoulders just above the
surface; and the land about two miles off, on which, however, a surf
broke which would have made landing difficult, if not dangerous. The
tall trees and the mountains, range above range, seemed to rise directly
out of it.
Soon the fishermen's voices, as they pulled out, singing in chorus,
towards their buoys, greeted our ears. Two boats came close to us. The
fishermen exhibited much surprise at finding us, but instead of at once
coming up and taking us on board, they lay on their oars, and appeared
to be consulting what they should do with the strangers. How the
discussion might have terminated seemed doubtful, had not Van Deck told
them that I was an Englishman, whose countrymen had just conquered the
island; that he was my friend; and that if any harm happened to us my
people would come and cut off all the people in the district, whereas if
we were well treated they would be munificently rewarded. This address,
which, taken in its oriental meaning, was literally true, had the
desired effect; one of the boats approached me. Immediately that I was
in the boat I fainted, and I believe that my friend was much in the same
condition. He, however, quickly recovered, and by the promise of an
increased reward induced the fishermen to return at once to the shore.
I did not return to consciousness till I found myself being lifted out
of the boat and placed on a litter of wicker-work. Van Deck was carried
in the same way, as he was too weak to walk. We were thus conveyed to
the house of a chief, who resided not far from the shore, built on the
summit of a rising ground overlooking the sea.
The chief, who was every inch a gentleman, received us with the greatest
hospitality, and, seeing what we most required, had us both put into
clean, comfortable beds in a large airy room, where, after we had taken
a few cups of hot coffee, we fell asleep, and did not awake again till
the evening. Our host had then a sumptuous repast ready for us, of
which by that time we were pretty well capable of partaking. Poor Van
Deck was naturally very much out of spirits at the loss of his brother,
but the necessity of interpreting for me kept him from dwelling on his
own grief.
At the time of which I have hitherto been speaking, when I was in the
east, the spot on which Singapore, with its streets of stone palaces,
its superb public edifices and rich warehouses, now stands, was a sandy
flat, with a few straggling huts inhabited by fishermen or pirates. I
am about to give a piece of history posterior to my voyage as a
supercargo. After the peace of 1814, when Java and its dependencies
were given up to the Dutch, their first act was to impose restrictions
on British commerce in the Archipelago. They were enabled to effect
this object from the position of their settlements, those in the Straits
of Malacca and Sunda commanding all the western entrances to the China
and Java seas, and it therefore became evident that, without some effort
to destroy their monopolies, the sale of British manufactures in the
eastern islands would soon cease. Sir Stamford Raffles, who was at that
time Governor of Bencoolen, represented the case so strongly to the
Supreme Government at Bengal that the governor-general gave him the
permission he asked to make a settlement near the north-east entrance of
the Straits of Malacca. He accordingly, in the year 1819, fixed on
Singapore, which stands on the south side of an island, about sixty
miles in circumference, separated by a narrow strait from the Malay
peninsula. Of course the establishment was opposed by the Dutch, who so
strenuously remonstrated with the British Government that the latter
declined having anything to do with it, and threw the whole
responsibility on Sir Stamford Raffles. It was not until it had been
established for three years--in the last of which the trade was already
estimated at several millions of dollars--that Singapore was recognised
by Great Britain.
After a rest of a couple of days, poor Van Deck and I were sufficiently
recovered to commence our journey back to Batavia. He was anxious to be
there that he might take charge of his late brother's affairs--I, that I
might report the loss of the brig, and make fresh arrangements for
securing a cargo for Sydney. We met with no adventures worthy of note
on our journey.
On our return to Batavia much sympathy was excited for my friend Van
Deck among the merchants at the loss of his brother, and the naval
commander-in-chief, returning soon after from Sourabaya, dispatched two
frigates and a brig of war in search of the pirates. They were supposed
to belong to some place on the coast of Borneo, which has for many years
abounded with nests of these desperadoes. The fleet in question was
supposed to belong to a famous chief, the very idol of his followers on
account of the success of his expeditions. His title was the Rajah
Raga, and he was brother to the Sultan Coti, a potentate of Borneo. The
Raja Raga had subsequently some wonderful escapes, for he probably got
due notice that an English squadron was looking after him, and took good
care to keep out of their way. He was afterwards cruising with three
large prahus, when he fell in with an English sloop-of-war, which he was
compelled to engage. Two of his prahus, by placing themselves between
him and the enemy, held her in check a sufficient time to enable him to
escape, and were themselves then sent to the bottom; indeed, they must
have expected no other fate.
On another occasion the rajah remained on shore, but sent his own prahu,
which carried upwards of a hundred and fifty men and several large guns,
on a cruise, under the command of his favourite panglima, or captain.
Falling in after some time with a brig merchantman, as he supposed, and
wishing to distinguish himself by her capture, he fired into her, and
made preparations to board. Great was his dismay when he saw a line of
ports open in the side of his expected prize, and he found himself under
the guns of a British man-of-war. The panglima hailed, and with many
apologies tried to make it appear that he had acted under a
misapprehension, but his subterfuge was of no avail; a broadside from
the man-of-war sent his vessel at once to the bottom, and he and all his
crew perished, with the exception of two or three who, clinging to a
piece of the wreck, were picked up by a native craft, and carried an
account of the disaster to their chief.
Piracy had been the bane of these seas for years.
We were fortunate in obtaining the full amount of the goods we required
without having to wait much longer at Batavia. There is an old proverb,
"It is an ill wind that blows no one good." The vessel for which they
were intended had lost her master and both mates by sickness, and the
merchant therefore sold them to me. We had not altogether escaped, and
several of our men who were perfectly healthy when we entered the
harbour fell victims to the fever engendered by the pestiferous climate.
We were compelled to fill up their places with others, who afterwards
gave us much trouble.
It was with sincere regret I parted from my friend Van Deck. I was
glad, however, to find that he was likely to obtain employment suited to
his talents under the English Government. The most direct course for
New South Wales would have been through Torres Straits, but the east
trade wind still blowing, compelled us to take the longer route round
the south of New Holland, and through Bass's Straits, not many years
before discovered, between that vast island and the smaller one of Van
Diemen's Land. A northerly breeze at length coming on, enabled us to
sight the south-west point of New Holland, and thence we sailed along
the coast, occasionally seeing tall columns of smoke ascending from the
wood, showing the presence of natives.
On approaching Bass's Straits, the captain was one day expressing his
regret to me that we had not time to anchor off one of the islands in it
to catch seals, great numbers of which animals frequented the place in
those days. He had known, he remarked, considerable sums made in that
way in a very short time. Our conversation, it appeared, was overheard
by one of the men we had shipped at Batavia. We had had a good deal of
insubordination among the crew since we left that place, and we traced
it all to that man, Miles Badham, as he called himself. He was about
thirty, very plausible and insinuating in his manner, a regular
sea-lawyer, a character very dangerous on board ship, and greatly
disliked by most captains. He had managed to gain a considerable
influence over the crew, especially the younger portion. His appearance
was in his favour, and in spite of the qualities I have mentioned, I
would not have supposed him capable of the acts of atrocity which were
with good reason laid to his charge. Ben Stubbs, the second mate, had
charge of the deck one night, and, unable to sleep, I was taking a turn
with him, when Mr Gwynne, the surgeon, came up to us.
"There is something wrong going on among the people below," he
whispered. "I cannot make out what it is exactly, but if we do not look
out we may possibly all have our throats cut before morning."
"You must have been dreaming, Gwynne," answered Stubbs; "there isn't a
man in the ship would dare do such a thing."
"I am not certain of that," I observed; "at all events, let us be on the
right side. Forewarned, forearmed. We will let the captain know, and I
trust that we may thus defeat the plot, whatever it is."