Stirring scenes in savage lands

by James Greenwood

Detestable, however, as is the trade of war, especially when carried on from mercenary motives, it is hard for us, with so much of the salt of the sea in our blood, to regard these savage Dayak rovers without something very like sympathy. Certain it is that they possess the chief elements of a great people, perseverance, courage, and a restless yearning for adventure—much the same sort of folks, dear reader, as those from which you and I sprang. But our freebooting ancestors were heroes and led by heroes, say you. Well, here is a Dayak hero, pictured by one who is himself a hero—a true British man of war and one little likely to over estimate valour, or to mistake it on the score of sentimentality.

“Among the mortally wounded lay the young commander of the prahu, one of the most noble forms of the human race; his countenance handsome as the hero of oriental romance, and his bearing wonderfully impressive and touching. He was shot in front and through the lungs, and his end was rapidly approaching. He endeavoured to speak, but could not. He looked as if he had something of importance to communicate, and a shade of disappointment and regret passed over his brow when he felt that every effort was unavailing and that his manly strength and daring spirit were dissolving into the dark night of annihilation. The pitying conquerors raised him gently up and he was seated in comparative ease, for the welling out of the blood was less distressing, but the end speedily came; he folded his arms heroically across his wounded breast, fixed his eyes on the British seamen around, and casting one long glance at the ocean—the theatre of his daring exploits, on which he had so often fought and triumphed—expired without a sigh.”

It is not a little singular, however, that although they display so much courage and indifference to death in naval warfare, their military tactics are of the very meanest order and are executed with such lukewarmness that to see them as soldiers and nothing else would be to conceive them to be the greatest curs on the face of the earth. Of this Rajah Brooke had most rueful yet ludicrous experience. Thanks to his own indomitable pluck and the assistance (sparse enough at best) granted him by the British government, together with that of the various Bornean tribes whom Brooke had won over to his interest, the marauding Dayaks were very considerably lessened in numbers and, better still, damped in piratical ardour; still there were a few very formidable bodies inhabiting forts along the coast whose interest it was to favour piracy and who were known to do their earnest best to thwart the endeavours of the European Rajah. Therefore a grand council of war was held, at which were present various Malay, Chinese, and Dayak leaders, and Sir J. Brooke, and it was formally resolved to combine the various forces and to proceed to storm and carry the obnoxious forts in a regular way.

All were willing enough to give their word; but our countryman seems from the very onset to have had a dismal foreboding of what would be the result. “To judge,” says he, “by the sample of the council, I should form a very unfavourable expectation of their conduct in action. Macota (a chief, as are the rest whose names are here mentioned) is lively and active, but, either from indisposition or want of authority, undecided. The Capitan China is lazy and silent; Abong Mia and Datu Naraja stupid.... I may here state my motives for being a spectator of, or participator (as may turn out) in, this scene. In the first place, I must confess that curiosity strongly prompted me; since to witness the Malays, Chinese, and Dayaks in warfare was so new that the novelty alone might plead an excuse for this desire. But it was not the only motive, for my presence is a stimulus to our own party, and will probably depress the others in proportion.”

Besides swords and spears and muskets and some sort of artillery, both parties availed themselves of other favorite Bornean arms, including the ranjow; “these ranjows are made of bamboo pointed fine and stuck in the ground; and there are, besides, holes about three feet deep filled with these spikes and afterwards lightly covered, which are called patabong. Another obstacle consists of a spring formed by bending back a stiff cane, with a sharp bamboo attached to it, which, fastened by a slight twine, flies forcibly against any object passing through the bush and brushing against it: they resemble the mole traps in England. The Borneans have a great dread of these snares; and the way they deal with them is by sending out parties of Dayaks during the night to clear the path of such dangers. “The Sambas Chinese (adherents of the Brooke party) were wretchedly armed, having no guns and scarcely any muskets; but swords, spears, and shields, together with forty long thin iron tubes with the bore of a musket and carrying a slug. These primitive weapons were each managed by two men, one being the carrier of the ordnance, the other the gunner; for whilst one holds the tube on his shoulder the other takes aim, turns away his head, applies his match, and is pleased with the sound. Their mode of loading is as curious as the piece and its mode of discharge. Powder is poured in, the end knocked on the ground, and the slug with another knock sent on the powder without either ramming or cartridge. Indeed it is difficult to imagine any weapon more rude, awkward, or inefficient. The Borneans in fighting wear a quilted jacket or spenser which reaches over the hips, and from its size has a most unserviceable appearance, the bare legs and arms sticking out from under this puffed-out coat like the sticks which support the garments of a scarecrow.”

Setting sail with a fleet of vessels containing his gallant army, in course of time the enemy’s neighbourhood was reached and a fort built about a mile from the stronghold of their foes. It should be stated that to supply themselves with materials for this fort another near home was taken down and the timbers loaded into spare boats. No opposition was offered. The ground was cleared of jungle; piles driven in a square about fifteen yards to each face; and the earth from the centre, scooped out and intermixed with reeds, was heaped up about five feet high inside the piles. At the four corners were small watch-houses, and along the parapet of earth a narrow walk connecting them. While some of the army was thus employed another portion of it surrounded this the main body of the defence by an outer work made by slight sticks run into the ground, with cross binding of split bamboos, and bristling with a chevaux de frise of sharpened bamboos about breast high. The fastenings of the entire work were of ratan, which is found in plenty. The entire fortress was commenced and finished within eight hours.

Knowing the weakness of the enemy, Sir J. Brooke now proposed that they should sally out and attack them, and in case of pursuit or severe repulse it was only a matter of ten minutes’ run to regain the fort, where they could defy further molestation. But the proposition took the army aghast. What! walk right up to the brass guns? Surely the English Rajah must be mad. The attack must be made from behind a wall, or not at all; and why not, when to build forts was so easy? and it was only a matter of so many seven hours’ labour to build fort after fort as they advanced and until they had arrived within convenient musket range of the enemy. So the Grand Army retired to bed.

Next morning they were up and doing, hammering and tinkering at the new stockade. In the midst of the work, however, there was a tremendous commotion—the enemy was advancing. There could be no mistake about it: you could hear their shouts and the banging of their war gongs approaching nearer and nearer. The Brooke army, nothing daunted replied with yells just as furious and defiant, and by way of refreshing their courage, several charges of powder and shot were expended in the air. The enemy approach within hail, and the excitement is grand. “We are coming! we are coming!” shouted the rebels; “lay aside your muskets, and come out and fight us with swords.”—“Come on,” replied the others; “we are building a stockade and want to fight you.” Things having arrived at this critical pass, there is no knowing what might have been the result, when merciful nature, to avert the horrors of blood and carnage, interposed with a heavy shower of rain, before which the rebels retreated, followed by the derisive shouts of the Borneans, who were under cover, and whose leaders immediately proceeded to offer a fervent thanksgiving for the victory gained, the soldiers responding with edifying earnestness, and then all retired to rest calmly as on the preceding night.

Next morning, however, Sir J. Brooke, whose curiosity was long since satisfied, and who began to grow tired of witnessing this novel mode of warfare, encouraged the troops to make an advance, to proceed indeed to within three hundred yards of the enemy’s stronghold, and there to erect a new stockade, backing his urging with the promise to send aboard for two six-pounder carronades with which to mount it. During the progress of this work Sir J. Brooke took occasion to inquire of the Dayak commander, Macota, if this was the way a battle was always conducted in these parts. Macota was very eager to set our countryman right on a point that so closely affected the honour of his nation. The enemy, he declared, during his last campaign were much more courageous than now. Stockade was opposed to stockade, and the fighting constant and severe; and so ably had Macota generalled his troops, that during two months he had not lost a single man, while five of the enemy were stretched upon the field.

By the time the fort was finished and the guns arrived, the Brooke army had been reinforced, so that it numbered five hundred men of one sort and another. While the guns were being fixed the enemy opened fire, but were speedily checked, and in a quarter of an hour had to bewail a breach in the walls of their fortress large enough to admit several men together. “Seeing the effect,” says Rajah Brooke, “I proposed to Macota to storm the place with one hundred and fifty Chinese and Malays. The way from one fort to the other was protected. The enemy dared not shew themselves, for the fire of the grape and canister, and nothing could have been easier; but my proposition caused a commotion as difficult to describe as forget. The Chinese consented, and Macota, the commander-in-chief, was willing; but his inferiors were backward, and there arose a scene which shewed me the full violence of Malay passions, and their infuriated madness when once roused. Pangeran Houseman (one of the leaders) urged with energy the advantage of the proposal, and in the course of a speech lashed himself into a state of fury; he jumped to his feet, and with demoniac gestures stamped round and round, dancing a war dance after the most approved fashion. His countenance grew livid, his eyes glared, his features inflamed, and for my part, not being able to interpret the torrent of his oratory, I thought the man possessed of a devil, and about to ‘run a muck.’ But after a minute or two of this dance he resumed his seat, furious and panting, but silent. In reply, Subtu urged some objections to my plan, which was warmly supported by Illudeen, who apparently hurt Subtu’s feelings; for the indolent, the placid Subtu leapt to his feet, seized his spear, and rushed to the entrance of the stockade with his passions desperately aroused. I never saw finer action than when, with spear raised and pointing to the enemy’s fort, he challenged any one to rush on with him. Houseman and Surrudeen (the bravest of the brave) like madmen seized their swords to inflame the courage of the rest. It was a scene of fiends: but in vain; for though they appeared ready enough to quarrel and fight amongst themselves, there was no move to attack the enemy. All was confusion; the demon of discord and madness was among them, and I was glad to see them cool down, when the dissentients to the assault proposed making a round to-night and attacking to-morrow.”