Rajah Brooke

by Sir Spenser St. John

CHAPTER IV

SIR THOMAS COCHRANE IN BRUNEI—ATTACK ON SHERIF OSMAN—MUDA HASSIM IN POWER—LINGIRE’S ATTEMPT TO TAKE RAJAH BROOKE’S HEAD—MASSACRE OF MUDA HASSIM AND BUDRUDIN—THE ADMIRAL PROCEEDS TO BRUNEI—TREATY WITH BRUNEI—ACTION WITH PIRATE SQUADRON—RAJAH BROOKE IN ENGLAND—IS KNIGHTED ON HIS RETURN TO THE EAST—VISITS THE SULU ISLANDS—EXPEDITION AGAINST SERIBAS PIRATES

Hearing that Admiral Sir Thomas Cochrane was expected in Singapore, the English Rajah determined to proceed there to explain to him the true position of affairs on the north-west coast of Borneo. He found the admiral ready to take measures to suppress piracy, and the Rajah left with the impression that he would act against the great pirate chief, Sherif Osman. In the meantime, he returned himself to Brunei in the Phlegethon to find his Bornean friends very despondent. However, in August the admiral appeared, and at the invitation of the Sultan attacked Pangeran Usop for holding two British subjects in slavery. This noble and his followers fled to the hills. Sir Thomas then proceeded to Marudu Bay to chastise Sherif Osman, the most notorious pirate chief in the Archipelago. His place of residence, up a narrow river, was carefully fortified with an extra strong boom across the stream. A very powerful expedition was sent up from the fleet. In attempting to force their way through the well-prepared obstructions our men were exposed to a murderous fire from the forts, and we lost heavily; but the town was taken and burnt. I visited the place afterwards, and was somewhat surprised that a detachment was not landed below the boom and the position turned; but we always like to take the bull by the horns. The pirates suffered severely. Sherif Osman was mortally wounded and died shortly afterwards, and Marudu ceased for a time to be a pirate rendezvous.

Returning to Brunei with the good news, Brooke was delighted to hear that his friend Budrudin had defeated Usop, who, with a force from the hills, had come down to surprise the town, and had driven him away from the neighbourhood of the capital. He was some time afterwards taken at a place called Kimanis, and by order of the Sultan was strangled with all the formalities due to a person who had royal blood in his veins. Thus Muda Hassim’s power appeared securely established. His enemies without and within had been defeated, and his warlike brother, Lanun, on the mother’s side—which accounted for his unusual daring—was at the head of a strong party. The English Rajah felt that they were comparatively safe; yet he had his secret misgivings, and tried in vain to persuade the admiral to station a brig on the coast.

Captain Bethune now returned to England to make his report to the British Government, and Brooke was left to a welcome repose—doubly welcome after all the exertions of the previous months.

It was during the summer of this year that a very curious episode occurred. Whilst the Rajah was at dinner with his English followers in the new house to which I have already referred, and which had been constructed some distance below the Malay town, Lingire, the well-known pirate chief, walked into the dining-hall, followed by a large party of his warriors. As they were all fully armed, the Rajah saw at once that mischief was meant. He received the chief most courteously. A chair was given him, and all the other Dyaks squatted down on the floor round the table. Cigars were handed round, and then the Rajah asked what was the news. Lingire answered that they had just pulled up the river to pay him a visit.

The Rajah called up a very intelligent native servant and said to him in English, ‘Bring me another bottle of sherry,’ and then added in a careless voice, ‘Let the Malay chiefs know who are here.’ The servant duly brought in the wine and then retired. Whilst the Seribas chief was drinking his sherry, the Rajah exerted himself to the utmost to entertain him—told him story after story, got the Dyak to relate instances of his own prowess. His vanity was so tickled that, forgetting the object of his visit, he dilated on his forays into the Dutch territories, where he had surprised the Chinese settlers. ‘They won’t fight, those cowards,’ he said. ‘They run away from an armed man, or drop on their knees and beg for mercy.’ The Rajah encouraged him to continue, but time and the Datus moved slowly, and he could see the Dyaks exchanging glances, as if to say the moment had arrived for action. In another minute they would have been on their feet and the unarmed Englishmen slain, when footsteps were heard on the gravel walk. Lingire looked anxious as the powerful form of the Datu Patingi appeared in the verandah, which was soon crowded with armed Malays. The Datu Tumangong soon followed, and the Dyaks were surrounded. They did not move—a move would have sealed their fate. The Datus threatened and scolded them to their hearts’ content, asked how they had dared to enter the Rajah’s house with arms in their hands, and had not the white chief interfered the Malays would have executed summary justice on the rascals.

The Rajah then spoke. He said he knew very well that Lingire had come to surprise them, but he would not have it said that anyone who came to his country should be in fear of death, however much he merited it, that he would forgive him, and he might go. At a sign from the Rajah the Malays opened their serried ranks, and Lingire and his followers crept out like whipped curs and disappeared from the river. Years after I saw Lingire sitting on a chair beside the Rajah, but I do not think he ever confessed to us that his design had been to kill the white men, though it was well known that he came for no other purpose. He had, in fact, boasted that he would take the Rajah’s head and hang it up in a basket which he had already prepared and placed in a tree near his village. Had he attacked the Rajah the moment he entered the room nothing could have saved the Englishmen, as they were quite defenceless; and he could have done it with impunity, as no Malay war boat could have overtaken a Dyak bangkong. This is but a specimen of the Rajah’s marvellous escapes. I had the above account from his cousin, Arthur Crookshank.

The year 1846 opened satisfactorily. The attack on the pirate haunts at Marudu, the punishment and the subsequent death of Pangeran Usop, rendered the position of Muda Hassim stronger, and the strict watch kept on the Seribas and Sakarangs during 1845 had prevented any marauding on their part. Whilst peace appeared now to be established both at home and abroad, the Rajah was again troubled by the action of his agent Wise. This clever but unscrupulous man kept writing that he would make Brooke the richest commoner in England if he would give him a free hand; and, in fact, without waiting for any permission, he began to project large associations which were to take over the country of Sarawak and rival the old East India Company in wealth and power. When Brooke understood what his agent was doing, he wrote that he would be no party to such schemes, and that he would not surrender Sarawak to the tender mercies of a mercantile association.

I first made the acquaintance of Mr Wise in 1846, and I well remember how lavish he was in the praise of Brooke, and what hopes he entertained of the success of an all-absorbing company. But as time passed his enthusiasm for his friend and employer gradually lessened, till the result was an open rupture. To this I must refer hereafter.

1846, which opened under the finest auspices, soon however changed its aspect. News came of marauding on the part of the Sakarang Dyaks; but this was trifling to what followed. H.M.S. Hazard, Commander Egerton, had been sent by the admiral to Brunei to communicate with Rajah Muda Hassim. As soon as the ship anchored at the mouth of the Brunei river, a native hurried on board, and by signs made the officers understand that some great calamity had occurred at the capital, while he appeared to warn Egerton not to proceed up the river. Fortunately his warning was attended to; and as he kept repeating in Malay, ‘Tuan Brooke’ and ‘Sarawak,’ the Hazard weighed anchor and proceeded to that place. The Malay brought serious news indeed. The Sultan had ordered the murder of Muda Hassim, Budrudin and the rest of the legitimate royal family, and had succeeded in destroying the most important chiefs. These were his own uncles and cousins.

A conspiracy seems to have been hatched among the Sultan’s followers, who were the friends and associates of the late Pangeran Usop, to kill Muda Hassim and his family, not only for the sake of revenge, but to prevent them gaining a preponderating influence in the country. Already the people were looking to them as the rising power, and the Sultan’s prestige was visibly declining. Besides, with their increasing influence they were acquiring too many of the profits which used to accrue to the Sultan’s entourage. As the representatives of the party which preferred the old methods of government, the latter disliked the alliance which was springing up between this branch of the royal family and the Rajah of Sarawak, as the representative of the English, and therefore they found no difficulty in persuading the half-imbecile Sultan that his immediate deposition was meditated. He therefore gave the order that Muda Hassim and his family should be attacked and killed. Though warned that some conspiracy was brewing, they took no heed, lulled in fancied security, and were easily surprised. Muda Hassim defended his home with a few followers, but finding that they would soon be overpowered, shot himself so as not to fall into the hands of his enemies.

Pangeran Budrudin was attacked at the same time. Brooke wrote to Keppel, on April 5th 1846, ‘After fighting desperately and cutting down several of the Sultan’s hired assassins, he was shot in his left wrist, his shoulder and chest were cut open so as to disable his right arm. A woman, by name Nur Salum, fought and was wounded by his side. His sister and a slave boy called Jaffir, though both wounded, remained by him, the rest of his few followers having been cut down or having fled. The four retired into the house and barred the door. Budrudin, wounded and bleeding, ordered the boy to get down a cask of powder, break in the head and scatter it in a small circle. He then told Jaffir to escape, gave him my signet ring, of which I had made him a present, and told him to beg me not to forget him and to tell the Queen of England of his fate. He then called the women to him, and when the boy had dropped through the flooring into the water, fired the powder, and all three were blown into the air.’ No hero could have died more nobly, and what fine creatures must those women have been!

No natives ever appear to consider or to care for the consequences of their acts until the acts are done. They are blinded by their hate; but no sooner had the conspirators murdered the principal members of the royal family than they began to tremble for the future. They knew the friendship which united the English Rajah to Pangeran Budrudin, and began to reflect that he would spare no pains to punish them. With the death of this brave pangeran all hopes of regenerating the Government of Brunei vanished.

At that time we had in the East an admiral who dared to act—Sir Thomas Cochrane. When he heard of the massacre he determined to proceed to Brunei to inquire what was the meaning of these violent measures. He rightly argued that the massacre did not directly concern England, unless the Sultan was about to repudiate all his engagements with us. On his way he called in at Sarawak to see Brooke, and to ask him, as the British Government’s confidential agent, to accompany the expedition.

The squadron arrived off the Brunei river on the 6th June, and Sir Thomas immediately sent a message to the Sultan, saying he was about to visit the capital and desired an interview with His Highness. Some messengers of inferior rank brought down the reply that the admiral might ascend the river in two small boats. No notice was taken of this restriction, and the steamers, with the smaller vessels in tow, and accompanied by the boats of the squadron, began to ascend the river. As they neared the capital they were received with volleys from every battery; but the marines and blue-jackets were soon on shore, and the defenders fled in haste. On entering the central canal of Brunei, a battery at the Sultan’s Palace opened fire, which did considerable damage to the Phlegethon. There was no serious resistance, however, and when the force took possession of the town they found it completely deserted. The Sultan escaped to the interior, and the party sent to capture him naturally failed in their object.

A provisional government was established under Pangeran Mumein, a respectable noble, not of royal descent, and Pangeran Mahomed, a brother of Muda Hassim, but not of much intelligence; then a proclamation was issued, saying that the Sultan might return to his capital if he were prepared to fulfil his engagements.

Nothing ever raised the prestige of the English so much as the capture of Brunei. As a military feat of arms it was of no importance, but to the tribes of the interior it was looked upon as a marvel of heroism. They naturally thought Brunei to be the only great power on earth, so that when they heard that the English had taken their capital, they rejoiced that their oppressors had received such a lesson. Cautiously looking around to see that no Malay was present, they would laughingly tell how they had seen the Sultan and his nobles flying through the jungle with the English at their heels, and ask why having once taken the country we did not keep it. These or similar inquiries were made wherever I travelled in the interior.

Sir Thomas Cochrane, having seen the establishment of the provisional government, sailed for China; but during his passage up the north-west coast of Borneo destroyed several pirate communities, and, leaving Captain Mundy of H.M.S. Iris to complete the work, proceeded to Hong Kong.

When Brooke returned to Sarawak he was indeed received as the ‘Conquering Hero.’ The Malays there were very much like the tribes of the interior, thoroughly imbued with the idea that the Sultan of Brunei was a great monarch, second to none; and therefore the news that the capital had been taken and that the Sultan had fled to the woods was a complete surprise; but the surprise was only equalled by the pleasure it gave, as the Brunei Government was unpopular to the last degree, indeed hated for its oppression.

While in Brunei Brooke collected those of the families of Muda Hassim and his brothers who wished to be removed from the capital, and brought them down to Sarawak, where for years they were supported by him.

1846 closed, as it had begun, with every sign of prosperity. There was peace in all the neighbouring districts, and the native trade on the coast was considered to be very flourishing. Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, was continually increasing, as the natives removed to it from the less secure rivers, and there was every hope that the British Government would now really make an effort to develop the coast. They had decided to occupy the island of Labuan and establish a commercial settlement there, and this, it was expected, would lead to a more forward policy.

Having received instructions from Her Majesty’s Government, Brooke, in May 1847, proceeded to Brunei to negotiate a treaty with the Sultan, which should not only regulate the trade relations between the two countries, but should contain a clause declaring that British subjects committing offences within His Highness’s dominions might only be tried by Her Majesty’s representative. The treaty was signed, and then Brooke left on board the Company’s steamer Nemesis, Captain Wallace, who was on his way to Singapore. When they arrived near the mouth of the Brunei river they were hailed by a native prahu and were informed that a Balignini pirate squadron was outside, capturing fishing and trading boats. As soon as the Nemesis rounded the sandy point of the island of Muara they saw eleven Balignini prahus in full chase of a native vessel, but as soon as the steamer appeared the pirates turned towards the shore, and finding escape hopeless, pulled into a shallow bay, anchored their vessels, bows seaward, and all kept in position by hawsers connecting the prahus to each other. The steamer arrived, when the pirates immediately opened fire on her, and after rather a prolonged action they cut their cables. Some prahus pulled away to the north, others to the south, while the remainder were deserted by their crews. It is needless to enter into details, but it may be mentioned that in all the vessels taken were found crowds of captives, principally from the Dutch possessions. None of the prahus made the Balignini Islands, as the three that escaped the steamer were so riddled with shot that the crews had to take to their boats, and after a painful voyage at last reached home. The pirates of the eight other prahus were forced to seek refuge on shore, and after committing some murders and other excesses, were surrounded, and then they surrendered to the Sultan, who had them all put to death.

Peace being established along the north-west coast by the energetic action of Sir Thomas Cochrane and the wise policy of Brooke, the latter decided to visit England after an absence of nearly nine years. He knew that the action with the Balignini would deter those pirates from visiting the coast for some time; he was satisfied that the Brunei Government could do no mischief; the Dyak pirates were still under the influence of the punishment they had received, and Sarawak was prosperous and safe. So leaving his cousin, Arthur Crookshank, in charge, he started for England, where he was sure to be well received, as Captain Keppel’s successful Voyage of the Dido had made the ruler of Sarawak well known to all Englishmen.

After a tedious voyage Brooke landed in England on October 2nd, and was soon surrounded by friends and relations. The Queen received him at Windsor Castle, and he was so fêted by all that he had but little time left to transact business. Brooke could not but feel that his countrymen fully appreciated the services he had rendered to England. He was presented with the freedom of the City of London, many clubs elected him a member by special vote, Oxford honoured him with her distinctions. The undergraduates went wild with enthusiasm at the mention of his name, for he was pre-eminently a leader to create that feeling among young men. He made friendships, which were lifelong, with Earl Grey and the Earl of Ellesmere.

Mr Wise gave him a grand dinner, and there delivered a speech which was an unqualified eulogium on his employer; it was not only eulogistic, it was fulsome in his praise. I remember well all the circumstances, and they are important; they impressed themselves deeply in my mind. My father, who was present at this dinner, when he came home, said to me, ‘I cannot understand Wise. He has just made a speech in which he has declared that Brooke is one of the greatest and best of men, whilst privately he tells me he is a robber and a murderer.’ On my father asking for an explanation, Mr Wise excused himself, saying that it was the necessity of his position which forced him to dissemble.

Brooke, who before he left Borneo had been named Commissioner and Consul-General, was now called upon to accept the position of Governor of the new settlement of Labuan, and was placed at the head of an efficient staff. I was appointed secretary to the Rajah, as Commissioner, and was thus brought into the closest relations to him. We were all ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to proceed to Borneo in H.M.’s frigate Meander, Captain Keppel, on the 1st February 1848.

How high were our hopes when we sailed from Portsmouth! They nearly made us forget the discomforts of our position on board—discomforts almost inseparable from an attempt to turn a ship of war into a passenger vessel. Our progress appeared to us slow, first from very stormy weather, and then from incessant calms.

The Meander, though of forty-four guns, was but a second-rate frigate; she had, however, a picked crew, whom the fame of her captain had induced to join; she was fitted with special boats for river service, as she was intended to act against the pirate communities. I need not dwell on the details of this voyage, but I must introduce an anecdote related by Sir Hugh Low of his great chief. ‘No circumstances, however unexpected, flurried him.... I was once a passenger with him in a large man-of-war. His cabin was on the port side of the vessel, and he was sitting in an arm-chair which leant against the bulkhead. I was stretched on a locker on the opposite side of the cabin, and there being a fresh breeze the ship was heeling over to starboard, when we felt a sudden increase in the lurch, which threw me headlong against the lee bulkhead, the Rajah’s chair being tilted up so that his feet were in the air. I attempted to crawl towards the door, when the Rajah, who had been reading, asked me where I was going. I said, “I am going to see what is the matter; the vessel is capsizing.” He replied, “You have nothing to do with it; you are only a passenger. Stay where you are.” The danger was averted by the promptness of the carpenter, who with one stroke of his sharp axe severed the main brace, and the vessel immediately righted itself.’

We were all glad to reach Singapore, for although the officers did their utmost to make us comfortable, it was not possible that much success could attend their efforts. I daresay they were as pleased to see us land as we were to find ourselves on shore. One thing I may mention, however; the gun-room officers pressed me to remain with them instead of facing the expense and discomforts of a Singapore hotel; but I could not avail myself of their kindness as I had my secretary’s duties to perform.

About three weeks after our arrival, the surveyor, the late Mr Scott, afterwards Sir John Scott, and Captain Hoskins, harbour-master, were sent ahead to prepare the necessary buildings for the officers that were to follow. This was our first mistake. Neither of these gentlemen knew anything about tropical countries, nor even the language of Borneo, and fixed the site of the settlement on a grassy plain, that turned into a swamp as soon as the rainy season commenced. Had the Lieutenant-Governor, Mr Napier, been sent ahead, or had Mr Low (now Sir Hugh Low), the Colonial Secretary, accompanied the advance party, their special knowledge of the Tropics would have saved us the consequences of this disastrous error. After a long and apparently unnecessary delay of three months and a half at Singapore, we sailed in the Meander for Sarawak. Before our departure, however, news arrived that Her Majesty had been pleased to name Mr Brooke a K.C.B., and he was duly installed before we left that British settlement.

On September 4, 1848, the Meander anchored off the Muaratabas entrance of the Sarawak river, and the reception accorded to their Rajah by the native inhabitants made a deep impression, not only on me, but on all who witnessed it. The whole population turned out to meet him, and the river, as far as the eye could reach, was thronged with boats. Everything that could float was put into requisition—the trading vessels, the war boats carrying their crews of a hundred, a few unwieldy Chinese junks, and every canoe in the capital. All were gaily dressed, and the chiefs crowded on board the frigate. At 1 p.m. we left under a royal salute, with yards manned and hearty cheers from the crew, and started for a six hours’ pull to the capital. We arrived after sunset and found every house brilliantly illuminated. The Rajah’s reception at Government House, where all the English were assembled, was naturally very hearty, and soon the whole place was crowded with natives.

Finding that during his absence the piratical tribes had recommenced their raids on the neighbouring towns, the Rajah thought of forming a league of the well-disposed districts, and therefore introduced a flag, which was not only a Sarawak flag, but might be used by any member of the league. This flag was hoisted, with great ceremony, on the staff in front of the Government House, and it is now used along the whole coast as far as, and in a place or two beyond, the Sultan’s capital.

About this time a mission, under the auspices of the Church of England, was established in Sarawak, and great hopes were entertained of its success.

I may as well mention who were the members of the Rajah’s staff. While we were at Kuching, his nephew, Captain Brooke of the 88th, joined him as A.D.C., but as he was to be the Rajah’s heir in Sarawak it was thought he would soon retire from the army; then Arthur Crookshank, who had hitherto represented him in Borneo; Charles Grant, his private secretary; Brereton, at that moment unattached; and myself, secretary to the Commissioner.

In the first days of October we embarked on board the Meander and sailed for Labuan, where we arrived on the 7th. Labuan lies, as I have stated, off a large bay, into which flow the Brunei, the Limbang, the Trusan, and many other rivers, and seemed well adapted for a commercial and naval station. It has a fine harbour and plenty of coal, and as we arrived on a bright day, the place looked very attractive. A broad grassy plain, which skirted the harbour, was about three quarters of a mile deep, then it met the low hills and thick jungle. Our houses had all been constructed near the sea, with the plain behind us, and their neat appearance, although only of native materials, quite delighted us. Keppel soon sailed to tow down to Singapore H.M.S. Royalist, which had been dismasted by a sudden squall, and we were left to the care of a few marines and blue-jackets.

The south-west monsoon was now blowing fiercely, and brought up with it heavy clouds and drenching rain, and our plain speedily became a fetid swamp, which laid many low with fever and ague. In an interval of fine weather we proceeded to Brunei in the Jolly Bachelor, a vessel belonging to the Rajah, but manned by blue-jackets, the steam tender Ranee and some other boats, to ratify our treaty with the Sultan, and found prepared for us a long, low shed of a house, in which we all took up our quarters. Brunei was in truth a Venice of hovels, or rather huts, perched on posts driven into the mud banks found in the broad river. Everything looked as though it were falling to decay—the palace, the mosque, the houses of the pangerans, in fact, the whole city of perhaps 20,000 inhabitants.

The wretched Sultan was even then suffering from a disease—cancer on the lip—which carried him off a few years subsequently. He was a mean-looking creature, and his previous atrocities had earned for him the description, ‘the head of an idiot and the heart of a pirate.’ After finishing our business we returned to Labuan.

I never spent such a wretched month as that of November 1848. After a short respite the south-west monsoon began to blow again, the rain fell in torrents, the sea was driven up to such a height that the waves washed under all our houses, which were built on piles, and destroyed many of our stores. The Rajah’s English servant attributed the diminution of the wine and brandy to the same cause. Fever was soon upon us. First the marines and blue-jackets fell ill and many died; then all our Chinese workmen and Kling servants; then Sir James Brooke, the Lieutenant-Governor, the Colonial Secretary, the Colonial Doctor, Captain Brooke, Mr Grant, and many others were down with this weakening disease. The only ones to escape were Mr Scott and myself. Admiral Collier arrived during this period, and fled, panic-stricken, from the place, and ever after did all in his power to injure the colony, and certainly did what he could to keep Her Majesty’s vessels away, though those on board ship scarcely ever suffered. There was gloom in every house; even the Chinese would not stay, and went over to establish themselves in the capital.

Fortunately the barracks for the Madras garrison had been built on the swelling ground at the back of the plain, and to this place the Governor sent all those he could. While there they quickly recovered, and it was decided to have fresh houses built for the whole staff near the military quarters.

At the end of November the weather began to improve, as the north-east monsoon made itself felt, and the Meander fortunately arrived, and Keppel insisting, Sir James and some of his staff were embarked on board, and we sailed along the north-west coast on the way to Balambangan Island, where an English vessel had been wrecked. Finding her burnt to the water’s edge, Sir James decided to proceed to Sulu and visit the Sultan.

At Sugh, the capital, we found both coolness and hesitation. Some Dutch vessels had lately bombarded the town, and the Sultan had not forgotten our attack on Sherif Osman of Marudu Bay. This chief had married a relative of his, and his death after the engagement with the English was still remembered. Besides, there were some survivors and many relatives of those killed in the engagement in May 1847, against whom it was necessary to take every precaution.

Whatever was the motive, the Sultan got over his soreness of heart, and determined to see the great white chief whose fame had long since reached his ears. He and the people were soon assured that the English had no hostile intentions, and shortly after our arrival a reception was arranged.

The Sulu Islands were claimed by the Spaniards, but they had never made good their claim, for although they had sent several expeditions against the Sultan, which were followed by treaties, these were seldom observed by either side. The islands themselves are as beautiful as, perhaps more beautiful than, any others I have ever seen, well cultivated and producing all the food the natives required, but their commerce appeared very limited. They were the principal rendezvous of the Balignini and Lanun pirates, and consequently a slave emporium. The products of the sea, such as pearls and mother-of-pearl—bêche de mer—so prized by the Chinese, were the most valued articles of trade, a large portion of which, however, came from the islands further east. The proceeds of the plunder sold by the pirates were too often invested in guns and powder.

Sulu is nominally governed by a Sultan and a council of nobles, who, however, possess but limited authority over the population of the thousand and one isles.

The Sultan and his nobles received us in such state as they could manage in a hurry, since after the late attack on them by the Dutch their valuables had been sent to the mountains. Their reception of the English envoy was most kind. As Sir James did not wish to introduce business during this visit, our intercourse was purely formal, and after mutual inquiries as to the state of our health, and a curious reference made by the Sultan to the recent revolution in France, we took our leave. The Sultan was a young man, pale and emaciated, the result, it was said, of too much indulgence in opium.

The Meander soon sailed from Sulu, and after calling at Samboangan, the Spanish penal settlement in the island of Mindanau, we returned to our colony of Labuan, where we were pleased to find that all the officers were well, and that they had removed from the swampy plain to the higher land behind it. There was, however, but little progress visible, as the fever panic still prevailed. We did not stay long here, as the Rajah was anxious to begin operations against the Seribas and Sakarang pirates, who had again commenced to ravage the coast. We reached Sarawak on the 16th February. A daring attack of the Seribas Dyaks on the Sadong district, when they captured over a hundred heads, made us move out with our native fleet to pursue them, but a return of the north-east monsoon drove us to shelter. Later on, accompanied by the boats of the steamer Nemesis, we destroyed some of their inland villages, and thus kept them quiet for a time.

To crush these pirates, however, we required a stronger force, and had to wait for the arrival of one of Her Majesty’s ships. In the meantime, in order to save the independence of Sulu, threatened both by the Dutch and the Spaniards, Sir James determined to proceed there in the steamer Nemesis and negotiate a treaty. After calling in at Labuan, we continued our course to the Sulu seas. We were received by the Sultan and nobles in the most friendly manner, and Sir James had no difficulty in negotiating a treaty which, had it been ratified and supported, would have effectually preserved the independence of the Sultan. Our intercourse with these people was most interesting. Preceded by his fame, Sir James soon made himself trusted by the brave islanders, and one proof was that the Sultan asked him to visit him in a small cottage, where he was then staying with a young bride. I was among those who accompanied our Rajah, and on the darkest of dark nights we groped our way there. The Sultan was almost alone, and he soon began to converse about his troublesome neighbours, the Dutch and the Spaniards, expressing a strong hope that the English would support him.

Sir James explained to him our position in Labuan, and cordially invited his people to come and trade there, assuring him that the English had no designs on the independence of their neighbours, but that they only wanted peace and the cessation of piracy. One or two nobles dropped in, and the conversation turned on the subject of hunting, and our hosts proved themselves eager sportsmen, and invited us to return when the rice crop was over and they would show us how they hunted the deer, both on horseback and on foot. The Sultan, during the evening, took a few whiffs of opium, whilst the rest of the company smoked tobacco in various forms. The women were not rigidly excluded, as they came and looked at us whenever they pleased; but we could not see much of them, and it is a form of politeness to pretend not to notice their presence. After a very enjoyable evening, we bade farewell to the Sultan, as we were to sail the following day.

Sir James Brooke had intended to return there, establish himself on shore for a month, and join the nobles in their sports, and thus acquire a personal influence over them. He thought he could wean them from intercourse with the pirates and turn them into honest traders. It must be confessed that when we were there we had abundant evidence that the Balignini and Lanun pirates did frequent the port to sell their slaves and booty and lay in a stock of arms and ammunition. Sir James was, however, persuaded that if British war steamers showed themselves every now and then in Sulu waters, the pirates would abandon these seas. The moment was propitious; the Spaniards had just destroyed the haunts of Balignini, capturing many and dispersing the rest. The sanguinary defeat of eleven of their vessels in 1847, by the Nemesis, was not forgotten, and it required but a little steady patrolling to disgust the nobles with this pursuit; in fact, many had sold their war vessels and guns, saying, that now the English steamers were after them, it was no longer the profession of a gentleman. I never met natives who pleased me more; the young chiefs were frank, manly fellows, fond of riding and hunting, and our intercourse with them was very pleasant. It was always a matter of regret with me that I never had an opportunity of visiting them again.

Leaving Sulu, we called in at Samboangan, and had a very agreeable time with the acquaintances we had previously made there. We saw how little the Spaniards had done to develop the immense island of Mindanau. Here and there on the coast were some small settlements, with cultivation extending but a few miles inland, but there was a great air of neatness about the places dotted along the coast.

On our return voyage we touched at Labuan, and then went on to Sarawak, where we found H.M.’s brig Albatross, Commander Farquhar, and the Royalist, Lieutenant-Commander Everest. The Nemesis proceeded on to Singapore, but soon rejoined us.

MAP OF BORNEO AND PART OF THE EASTERN ARCHIPELAGO, SHEWING BRITISH TERRITORIES, BRITISH PROTECTORATES, AND FEDERATED MALAY STATES.

The expedition which was now organised was the largest that ever left the non-piratical districts for the punishment of the marauders. Besides the steamer Nemesis, we had the boats of the Albatross and Royalist, and about one hundred native prahus, manned by between three and four thousand men. I have in another work so fully described this expedition that I will not give a fresh account, but content myself with a summary of our proceedings. As a turning point in the history of the coast it will ever be remembered, not only as the greatest blow that was ever struck at Dyak piracy, and practically its destruction, but also because it led to the great misfortune that Sir James Brooke considered it necessary to retire from the public service, a step which was forced upon him by the weakness of Lord Aberdeen’s Government and the malice of his enemies.

On the 24th July 1849 the Nemesis started with the Royalist, the Ranee tender, and seven English boats in tow, and we followed in the evening with our powerful native contingent. The campaign, as planned by the authorities, was to proceed up the great river of Rejang, and attack the pirate communities from inland; but on our way to the mouth of that river we received information that ninety-eight Seribas war boats had pulled along the coast towards our point of rendezvous, the Rejang. It was instantly decided that on its return we should attempt to intercept this fleet, and our force was divided into two squadrons, one to guard the entrance of the Seribas, the other the mouth of the next river to the north, the Kaluka.

After two days’ waiting, our spy boats, at sunset on the 31st, brought intelligence of the approach of the pirate fleet. When they saw us at the mouth of the Kaluka, they gave an exultant shout and dashed away for home, but their hopes soon vanished as they were met by the Nemesis, the English boats, and the mass of our native fleet. Some turned to escape by the Kaluka, but were driven back and pursued by our light division. They now lost all hope of being able to get away in their heavy bangkongs; they therefore ran them on shore and escaped into the jungle.

In the morning the Rajah received a note from Farquhar to say that he had gone up the Seribas with the steamer to prevent any of the pirate boats escaping, but the few who had forced their way through the blockading squadron were already far beyond his reach. Our division then proceeded to the mouth of the Seribas. What a sight it was! Seventy-five of their war boats were lying on the sands, eighteen had been sunk at sea, and twelve alone escaped up the river. Such a defeat had never before been known.

These war boats were very different from what have been described by certain critics. I measured one. It was eighty feet in length, nine in breadth, and its pulling crew must have consisted of at least seventy men. The pirates murdered all their girl captives, and, after shocking mutilations, cut off their heads and escaped. We soon had ample proof of the piracies committed by this fleet. Not only had they attacked villages on shore, but they had captured two large native vessels on their way to and from Singapore. It would have been easy to have destroyed the fugitive pirates by occupying a narrow isthmus over which they must pass, but Sir James Brooke, convinced that this great defeat would have full effect, called off his excited native followers to the attack of the interior strongholds.

During our stay in the districts of Paku, we lost some men from the over-confidence of the sons of the Orang Kaya Tumangong of Lundu, who advanced to clear the path by which we were to march on the town. They were stooping to pull out the ranjaus when the Seribas, headed by Lingire, sprang upon them, and cut down two, while the third son escaped, as a party of our Malays poured a volley into the enemy and killed several of them. However, we advanced next day and laid their country waste, our native contingent loading themselves with plunder. Having showed the pirates that no defences could prevent our punishing them, it was decided to carry out the original plan and attack those Sakarang and Seribas Dyaks who lived on the Kanowit, a branch of the great Rejang river, about a hundred miles from the mouth of the latter. These men were most feared by the inhabitants of the Sago districts, which were situated near the western entrances of the mighty stream.

Many of our native allies now left us, as they were loaded with plunder and were not provisioned for so long a voyage; so we proceeded with the Nemesis, the English boats, and our principal Malay war prahus, and as soon as we appeared on the Rejang fresh bodies of natives began to join us, eager to retaliate upon those who had so often attacked them and captured their trading vessels. The Rejang is a splendid river, destined some day to be an important highway of commerce, as its various branches open out a large extent of country, and it penetrates further into the great island of Borneo than any other stream on the north-west coast.

The Nemesis towed many of the boats up to the entrance of the Kanowit branch, and anchored there whilst the expedition pushed up to attack the great pirate chief Buah Ryah, who had established his quarters in the interior of this broad river. We advanced rapidly, and were within one day’s pull of his forts, while Captain Brooke, with the light division of fast-pulling boats had reconnoitred some miles ahead, and found that the pirates were beginning to show in great numbers, which made us feel assured that we should soon be in touch with the main body. We landed to inspect a large village house, which was surrounded by a cotton plantation, and found it well built, and full of baskets of the skulls of the unfortunates who had been surprised by these marauders. I counted three hundred heads in one village. We then fell down the river to join Sir James Brooke and the English force, in great spirits at the prospect of coming in contact with the enemy next day. We were therefore astonished to hear, on our arrival, that it had been decided to give up the object of our expedition and return. As dinner was over, we removed to a short distance from our chiefs to have our meal in quiet, and to express to each other our indignation at the decision to which our naval commander had come. Some others joined us, equally disappointed. Towards the end of the meal, I could not help raising my glass and saying aloud, ‘Oh, for one hour of bonnie Keppel!’ Captain Farquhar sprang up and came over to us to inquire what I meant. We told him why we considered his determination very detrimental to the cause, as we were approaching Buah Ryah’s stronghold. He urged, however, the fatigue of his men, who had been pulling many days in succession against a strong current. We proposed a day’s rest, but on a hint from Sir James I gave up the discussion. He thought as I did, that Buah Ryah would, with some reason, proclaim that we were afraid to attack him, and would be thus encouraged to hold out. This actually happened, and thus the pacification of these districts was delayed for many years. There is no doubt that the English sailors were really tired, and possibly also dissatisfied, as all the skirmishing was done by our native contingent, who forged ahead of the slow-pulling men-of-war’s boats. How we missed the special boats of the Meander! The sailors, however, might have been sure that had there been any real fighting ahead, all would have waited for them.

As we gloomily fell down the river we met thousands of natives who were coming to join our expedition, and who were desperately disappointed that Buah Ryah had not been punished. When near the mouth of the Kanowit we were hailed by the inhabitants of the villages we had destroyed. A conference ensued; they showed their faith in the white man by boldly pulling out to our prahus. They did not attempt to deny their piracies, but promised amendment; and most of these chiefs kept their word.

As we returned towards Sarawak the native chiefs of all the trading towns on the coast came to express their unbounded thanks to the English Rajah and to the Queen’s forces for the punishment they had inflicted on the pirates, and the prospect it held out of trade being carried on free from danger of pillage and death.