Borneo and the Indian Archipelago / with drawings of costume and scenery

by Frank Marryat

Partly to the machinations of our friend Quilp and the irritable and proud disposition of the people, who considered that the sultan was humiliated by listening to reason and remonstrance, we were more than once very near coming to blows. At last every thing was arranged amicably; and just before starting, the prime minister, Quilp, and a large party of chiefs, condescended to pay a visit to the ship.

To guard against treachery, for Quilp was equal to any thing, the marines were kept under arms, and supplied with ball cartridges. The ship was soon crowded with chiefs, armed to the teeth, and accompanied by men with muskets, spears, and shields. It certainly did not look like a very amicable visit on their part, or a very friendly reception on ours; but the ship wore a very gay appearance. The guns, nettings, and booms were covered with the chiefs and attendants dressed in very gay colours. Groups of them sat down on the decks, and made their remarks upon what they beheld; while numbers prowled about up and down, examining, peeping, and wondering. We amused them with firing congreve rockets, guns, &c., which gave them some idea of our value, and we therefore combined instruction with amusement. They departed highly pleased and astonished, and it was evident that we were some degrees higher in the estimation of Quilp himself.

The prahu ordered to pilot us having come alongside, we hoisted her up abaft, and took the people on board, and then made sail for the hitherto unknown territory of Panti river. We anchored off the main land on the 25th December, that we might discover the mouth of the river, which was unknown to us. Our Christmas-day was not a very happy one; we did nothing but drink to the hopes of a better one the ensuing year. On the following day we weighed, and moved some distance up the river, and then anchored, waiting the return of the prahu, which had been despatched up to the town the night before. We had, by the means of warping and towing, gained about fifteen miles up the river, when we found that it divided into two branches, and, not knowing which branch to take, we had anchored, waiting the return of the prahu. As she, however, did not make her appearance, although she had had quite sufficient time allowed her, the boats were therefore manned and armed, and we started in search of the town Gonong Tabor. As bad luck would have it, we chose the left branch of the river, and, after two days' unsuccessful search, came back just as we went, but not quite so fresh as when we started. The prahu had not yet returned, so, taking a new departure, we proceeded up the right branch. This proved a fine broad river; one portion of it, studded with small islands, was very picturesque. We soon hove in sight of what appeared to be a town, although there were no signs of life visible. It was built on the left side of the river on two small hills, but we heard no gongs or tomtoms sounding, the usual alarm of all the Malay settlements on the approach of strangers. When we arrived off it, we found that the town was deserted. It had evidently but a short time back been a populous and flourishing place, but it had been destroyed by the enemy, as, although the houses were standing, the cocoa-nut and other trees had been all cut down. On the brow of the hill were many graves; one, which was stockaded and thatched, and the remnants of several flags fluttering in the wind, denoted the resting-place of a rajah. He little thought when he was alive that his head would be transported to a head house some 20,000 miles distant, but such was his fate: science required it, and he was packed up to add to the craniological specimens in the College of Surgeons, the gentlemen presiding over which are as fond of heads as the Dyaks themselves.

We moved up the river till nightfall, and then anchored. We were satisfied from appearances that we were not far from a town, and, loading our arms, we kept a very strict look-out.

At daylight the next morning we weighed anchor, and, having passed two reaches of the river, we came in sight of the towns of Gonong Tabor and Gonong Satang. We pulled towards them, with a flag of truce, and were immediately boarded by a canoe, which contained the prime minister, who made every profession of good-will on the part of his master, the sultan of Gonong Tabor. We observed with surprise that he hoisted a Dutch flag, which he requested that we would salute. The captain replied, that they must first salute the English flag, and, if they did so, he promised to return the salute. This was complied with; the English flag was saluted with twenty-one guns, and an equal number returned. The boats were then anchored off the town.

Immediately after we had returned the salute, we heard an attempt at music, and this was soon explained by the appearance of a procession filing through the gates of the town towards the boats. It was headed by a Malay, bearing the standard of Gonong Tabor,—red, with a white border; he was followed by another carrying a large canopy of silk, highly ornamented, and fringed with lace. After this personage came the prime minister; then two musicians, one playing the drum, and the other a flageolet of rude construction. These musicians were dressed in red bordered with yellow, with cowls over their heads. The rear was composed of a body-guard of Malays, well armed. The whole advanced towards the landing-place, having been sent by the sultan to escort the captain to the palace. The captain and officers landed, and, escorted by the natives, proceeded to the palace, the red silk canopy being carried over the head of the captain as a mark of honour. The sultan, a corpulent but fine-looking man, received us very courteously. He informed the captain that all the white people belonging to the Premier had been ransomed by the Dutch, whose trading vessels were in the habit of visiting Gonong Tabor. The captain of the Premier had refused to acknowledge the Lascars as British subjects, and, in consequence, the poor fellows had been retained as slaves. They were not, however, at Gonong Tabor, but at Baloongan, a town of some importance up a neighbouring river. He added, that four of the Lascars had fallen victims to the climate, and that there were twelve still remaining at the above-mentioned town. It appeared that, from some misunderstanding between the sultans of Gonong Tabor and Gonong Satang relative to the disposal of the English prisoners, they had come to blows, and were at this time at open warfare, the two towns being within gunshot of each other. Gonong Satang was built on a hill on the opposite side of the river, and was strongly stockaded as well as Gonong Tabor.

PROCESSION OF THE SULTAN OF GONONG TABOR.

The sultan expressed his desire to enter into an amicable treaty with the English, and offered our captain his assistance in procuring the release of the Lascars at Baloongan. This offer was accepted, and, when we left, a prahu accompanied us to that town.