Ran away from the Dutch

by M. T. H. Perelaer

The moon was shining brilliantly, considerably lessening the difficulties of marching through a tropical forest by night. The path, however, was so narrow that only one man could pass at a time, so that they were compelled to travel in Indian file. Fallen trees were lying about everywhere. In many places they had to cut a way through the thorny creepers, a work which, besides damaging their clothes, occasioned them many disagreeable pricks.

About midnight, when they were marching along a grassy lawn dotted with large umbrageous trees, one of the Poenans warned them to keep silent. Through the midnight calm he had heard at no great distance some suspicious sounds which he believed to be human voices. Harimaoung Boekit softly whispered a few words to his companions, then he and six of his warriors threw themselves on the grass and cautiously crept along the ground. The rest of the travelers remained perfectly still for a quarter of an hour in an excited state of expectation. Of a sudden some cries of terror, rage and despair were heard which were succeeded by utter silence. Then the Poenans reappeared, two of them carrying human heads and the four others dragging behind them two gagged prisoners. These men at first refused to answer any questions. Johannes then gave them to understand that he would employ means to [[321]]compel them to speak. One of them hurled some offensive epithets at his captors and in return received between his eyes a blow which set him spinning and almost stunned him. They then became more docile and bit by bit revealed that they belonged to a marauding band and knew nothing of the proceedings of their compatriots in that neighborhood. They had, however, been informed that many of their people had perished in an explosion at the Oepon Batoe and that all the inhabitants of the kotta had been killed at the same time. The Doessonese they had heard had secured many heads and had also captured a whiteface. Our friends listened breathlessly to this last item of intelligence, though it caused Harimaoung Boekit to stare with astonishment. Johannes then calmly enquired how this whiteface could have come here in these remote regions.

“Djaton tau,” I don’t know, was the reply; “but we have seen him. He was lying in a rangkan, tied hands and feet. His jacket had been torn off. His face and hands were brown like ours, but his chest and back were white. He had dyed his skin with katiting.”

“And what have they done with him?” inquired Wienersdorf, hesitatingly, as if afraid to put the question, “Have they killed him?”

“No: many pleaded to have him killed, but it was resolved to carry him before Tomonggong Soerapatti, who will, without doubt, deliver him into the hands of the Dutchmen at Bandjermasin, with whom he wishes to make peace.”

“Is the prisoner unhurt? And where is he now?” were the important questions of the Swiss. [[322]]

The prisoners hesitated, looked at each other and remained silent even after Johannes had repeated his question. But La Cueille applied his rattan to their backs with such vehemence that their obstinacy was soon subdued. They then stated that at sunset they had seen the rangkan which contained the white man lying close by the bank of the river, the oarsmen evidently intending to rest at that spot for the night.

The pursuit was immediately resumed in the hope of capturing the vessel. A quarter of an hour later, upon approaching the banks of the Kahajan, they caught sight of the rangkan. When its crew became aware of their presence they hastily pushed their boat from the shore and made for the opposite bank. A couple of bullets were sent after the flying vessel, but it rapidly disappeared from view among the dark shadows of the thick forest. Directly after the discharge of their guns, however, they had distinctly heard a cry, “Help! help!” This not only convinced them that they were on the right track, but also assured them that their abducted companion was still alive. A council of war was now held. The Poenan chief assured his friends that he was acquainted with a by-way which would speedily bring them to a spot above stream in advance of the fugitives. Once there they could await the approach of the rangkan and act according to the circumstances. Before starting, however, they had to obey a cruel necessity. The two Doessonese prisoners had been brought in their train. To take them further would not only retard their journey, but also considerably increase their danger. Wienersdorf proposed to set them free, but his counsel was overruled, as they would certainly bring a whole troop of their brethren in pursuit. [[323]]La Cueille’s suggestion was that they be securely tied to trees and left to the mercy of fate. This was objected to as unnecessarily cruel. Nobody might pass to liberate them and they would die a painful, lingering death. Johannes solved the difficulty by whispering something into La Cueille’s ears, to which the Walloon responded by a nod of affirmation. The march was continued, La Cueille being entrusted with the care of the captives. He allowed the troop to pass on in advance, led by Wienersdorf and Johannes; he and his prisoners bringing up the rear. They had thus proceeded only a short distance when two shots were heard in succession and the Walloon came hurrying forward with the information that his prisoners having tried to escape he had been compelled to shoot them down.

They now marched on with increased speed and at daybreak found themselves near a little hill situated like Oepon Batoe on the bank of the river, which hurried by below this point in a wild cataract. This was Kiham Batoe Naroi, the most difficult as well as the largest fall on the Kahajan, though owing to the breadth of the stream by no means the most dangerous. Harimaoung Boekit here divided his little band into two companies. The smaller one mounted the heights and remained concealed in a recess of the rocky wall which commanded the curve of the river for a considerable distance. The other division was posted at the foot of the hill in order to cut off the retreat of the Doessonese, the men being instructed to keep themselves hidden behind rocks and shrubs until the moment for action should arrive.

As the Poenan chief had foreseen, a considerable time elapsed before the expected rangkan came in sight. The spies reported [[324]]that it was manned by twenty oarsmen, but that nothing could be seen of the prisoner. As the boat approached, however, they distinguished Schlickeisen lying at the bottom in a most deplorable condition, tied hand and foot and perfectly naked. The rangkan made for the intricate passage of the kiham. Here in the country of their enemies, the Doessonese could not venture on land in order to guide their boat with a cable; they must row through the rapids despite the extreme difficulty of the feat. The rowers manipulated their oars magnificently and guided their craft with marvellous skill, now urging it forward calmly and steadily, and deftly keeping it afloat in the raging flood until all the difficulties of passage were successfully overcome. One more leap forward and the rangkan would have floated on calm water, when lo! a shot was heard. The foremost rower dropped his oar and fell back among his companions mortally wounded. Another and another shot, always with the same fatal result. Wienersdorf had put aside all his humane compassion: his sole aim was the deliverance of his faithful companion. Not a bullet must be thrown away, for the shot that failed to reach its mark would certainly imperil the safety of his friend. Kneeling down like a bronze statue he supported the stock of his rifle against his shoulder and aimed as if his whole existence, yea, his very soul, depended upon the line which his bullets must follow. The index of his right hand moved mechanically in manipulation of the trigger, and bullet after bullet carried death to the crew of the rangkan. Four of the oarsmen had been killed before the men could realize their position. They had not heard the noise of the firing, owing to the roar of the waters, but when they saw several [[325]]of their crew writhing in their last agonies, they looked anxiously around and discerned the thin clouds of smoke rising along the dark wall of the rock. The Captain of the rangkan endeavored to preserve some order among his men by shouting, “Beseai bewèi,” row firmly, and the boat shot forward on its course. But when directly afterwards three shots sounded in rapid succession and three more of their men fell backwards, their courage began to fail then.