“Their principal plan is boarding a vessel if possible, and carrying her by numbers; and certainly if a merchantman fired ill, she would inevitably be taken, but with grape and canister fairly directed the slaughter would be so great that they would be glad to steer off before they had neared a vessel.”
Having given a description, though a necessarily brief one, of these savage sea-lions, as well as of their laws and government, it may be worth while to devote a little space to the narration of one of the very many fights that took place between them and the forces under Sir J. Brooke, whose chief business, be it understood, was to check and to do all in his power to suppress the predatory operations of the swarm of piratical prahus infesting the Malayan Archipelago, to the great danger not only of peaceful native and Chinese traders, but also of European merchantmen trading to Singapore and other Chinese ports.
To support Sir J. Brooke in his difficult task, our government in 1843 despatched the “Dido” man-of-war, Captain Henry Keppel, commander. The “Dido” had been cruising about for a considerable time, and had performed many toughish jobs in the way of subjugating pirates, when the time came for the arrival of the English mail at Singapore, which also included the Bornean letter bags. These were to be forwarded by a small schooner, but knowing that the said schooner would probably be anxiously looked for by the pirates, Captain Keppel agreed with Sir J. Brooke, that it might be as well to send out some assistance to cruise about the road the schooner must come. It was scarcely worth while for the “Dido” herself to set out on such an errand, and the “Dido’s” pinnace was under repair, so it was resolved to man a large native-built boat, belonging to Sir J. Brooke, and called the “Jolly Bachelor.” She was fitted with a brass six-pounder long gun, and a volunteer crew of a mate, two midshipmen, six marines, and twelve seamen, with a fortnight’s provisions, the whole being under the command of Mr. Hunt, the “Dido’s” second lieutenant.
After proceeding on her leisurely course for some time, the “Jolly Bachelor” made out three boats a long way in the offing, to which they gave chase, but soon lost sight of them owing to their superior sailing. They, however, appeared a second and a third time after dark, but without the “Jolly Bachelor” being able to get near them, and it now being late and the crew being both fatigued and hungry, they pulled in shore, lighted a fire, cooked their provisions, and then hauled the boat out to her grapnel near some rocks, for the night; lying down to rest with their arms by their sides and their muskets round the mast ready loaded. Having also placed sentries and look-outs near, and appointed an officer of the watch, they one and all (including the watch and the look-out it seems), fell fast asleep.
Lieutenant Hunt was the first to awake, and a very considerable surprise greeted his still sleepy eyes. It was about three o’clock, and the moon had just risen; the lieutenant disturbed by a slight noise, raised his head, and lo! there was a savage brandishing his kris and performing a war dance on the bit of a deck, in an ecstasy of delight, thinking, in all probability, of the ease with which he had got possession of a fine trading boat, and calculating the cargo of slaves he had to sell, but little dreaming of the hornet’s nest into which he had fallen.
Dayak and Malay Weapons.
Lieutenant Hunt’s face meeting the light of the moon was the first intimation conveyed to the pirate that he had made a mistake. He immediately plunged overboard, and before the officer had sufficiently recovered his astonishment to know whether he was dreaming or waking, or to rouse his crew, a discharge from three or four cannon within a few yards, and the cutting through the rigging by the various missiles with which the guns were loaded, soon convinced him that it was stern reality. It was well that the men were lying down when this discharge took place, as not one of them was hurt; but on jumping to their legs they found themselves closely pressed by two large war prahus, one on either side.
To return the fire, cut the cable, man the oars, and back astern to gain room, was the work of a minute; but now came the tug of war; it was a case of life and death. The crew of the “Bachelor” fought, says Captain Keppel quaintly, “as they ought.” Quarter was not expected on either side; and the quick deadly aim of the marines prevented the pirates reloading their guns. The Illanun pirate vessels were built in the peculiar fashion already noticed, that is with partitions through which ports are bored for working the guns, and these barriers had to be cut away by round shot before the musketry could be brought to bear effectually. This done, the grape and canister of the “Jolly Bachelor” told with fearful execution. In the meantime the prahus had been pressing forward to board, while the English boat backed astern; but as soon as this service was achieved, the men of the latter dropped their oars and seizing their muskets dashed on. The work was sharp, but short, and the slaughter great. While one pirate boat was sinking and an effort made to secure her the other escaped by rounding a point of rocks, where a third and larger prahu, hitherto unseen, came to her assistance, and putting fresh hands on board and taking her in tow, succeeded in getting off, although chased by the “Jolly Bachelor,” after setting fire to the crippled prize which blew up and sank before the conquerors got back to the scene of action.
The sight that presented itself to the victors on boarding the captured prahu must indeed have been a frightful one; none of the pirates waited on board for even the chance of receiving either quarter or mercy, but all those capable of moving had thrown themselves into the water. In addition to the killed, some lying across the thwarts with their oars in their hands at the bottom of the prahu, in which there was about three feet of blood and water, were seen protruding the mangled remains of eighteen or twenty bodies.