Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back to his chair.
There was a tense silence of several minutes while Datu looked at Rajah and Rajah at Datu. Peter Gross saw the fierce sway of passions and conflicting opinions. Muller looked from face to face with an anxious frown, striving to ascertain the drift of the tide, and Van Slyck grinned saturninely.
A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet, and glared defiantly at Peter Gross.
"Hear me, princes of Bulungan," he shouted. "Year after year the servants of him who rules in Batavia have come to us and said: 'Give us a tenth of your rice, of your dammar gum, give us bamboo, and rattan, and cocoanuts as tribute money and we will protect you from your enemies.' Year after year have our fields been laid waste by the Dyaks of the hills, by the Beggars of the sea, till our people are poor and starve in the jungles, but no help has come from the white man. Twice has my village been burned by men from the white man's ships that throw fire and iron; not once have those ships come to save me from the sea Beggars. Then one day a light came. Grogu, I said, make a peace with the great Datu of the rovers of the sea, give him a part of each harvest. Three great rains have now passed since I made that peace. He has kept my coasts free from harm, he has punished the people of the hills who stole my cattle. With whom I ask you, princes of Bulungan, shall I chew the betel of friendship?"
"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that filled the hall in a rising assent.
A wizened old Malay, with a crooked back and bereft of one eye, rose and shook a spear venomously. His three remaining teeth were ebon from excessive betel-chewing.
"I had forty buffaloes," he cried in a shrill, crackly voice. "The white man in the house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for the balas (tribute money).' The white kris-bearer from the war-house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for my firestick-bearers.' The white judge came and said: 'I must have ten for a fine because your people killed a robber from the hills.' Then came the sea-rovers and said: 'Give us the last ten, but take in exchange brass gongs, and copper-money, and silks from China.' Whom must I serve, my brothers, the thief who takes and gives or the thief who takes all and gives nothing?"
The tumult increased. A tall and dignified chief in the farther corner of the hall, who had kept aloof from the others to this time, now rose and lifted a hand for silence. The poverty of his dress and the lack of gay trappings showed that he was a hill Dyak, for no Dyak of the sea was so poor that he had only one brass ring on his arm. Yet he was a man of influence, Peter Gross observed, for every face at once turned in his direction.
"My brothers, there has been a feud between my people of the hill and your people of the coasts for many generations," he said. "Yet we are all of one father, and children in the same house. It is not for me to say to-day who is right and who is wrong. The white chief bids us give each other the sirih and betel. He tells us he will make us both rich and happy. The white chief's words are good. Let us listen and wait to see if his deeds are good."
There was a hoarse growl of disapproval. Peter Gross perceived with a sinking heart that most of those present joined in it. He looked toward Wobanguli, but that chieftain sedulously avoided his glance and seemed satisfied to let matters drift.