CHAPTER VI
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.