The enemy's position was reached at 1 P.M., and it looked an ugly place to take. The Dayaks had built huts around, and they now numbered some three thousand. A stockade was erected 300 yards from the fortification, the gun mounted, and a summons sent to surrender Sawing, Sakalai, and others deeply compromised in the murder of Steele and Fox. This was refused, and the gun opened fire, which was returned, but the rebels' shot went high and told amongst the Dayaks in the rear. After forty-five rounds had been fired darkness set in. The chief, Sawing, had been heard giving directions right and left. He had previously sent a message to the Tuan Muda to say that he awaited his arrival and would slaughter all his followers—the Malays—for he did not regard the Dayaks as his enemies. And he had reason for this, for these Dayaks had before been hand-in-glove with the Sherip; but they had turned, and that at a time when an opportunity offered of possible retaliation for the punishment formerly inflicted upon them.

In the dusk of the evening a few of our party spoke to the enemy, who had suffered much from our shot, and were, they said, willing to come to terms. It was now an impossibility, as our force of Dayaks would be uncontrollable, and I would never receive them except to hang them all, minus the women and children. I did not trust much to their hollow words, so despatched a party to bring up more ammunition in the morning. The night closed in quiet and tranquil. Next morning, my wish was to interfere so as to save the women and children, if possible, and I despatched a messenger within speaking distance of the house, to demand the Government arms and goods that had been taken from the Kanowit fort. After some time a few dollars and old muskets were given up; then I sent to tell the women and children to leave. They replied that they were afraid of the Dayaks. So, after giving them a certain time, and knowing that then further delay was useless, I ordered Abang Ali to advance and take the house if he could. The fellows rushed on, yelling terribly. I kept our small Malay force together in the stockade with Penglima Seman, as a panic might arise among them, and the besieged become desperate, and charge us; so the gun was ready with grape and canister to be discharged at a moment's notice.

After a furious attack, the stockade was entered, and there was desperate fighting within between those defending it and those entering by climbing the poles that sustained it. Then fire was applied, and both ends of the building kindled and began to blaze furiously.

Now came the horror of war indeed. Some were burnt, some killed, some taken prisoners, and some few escaped. So ended that fortification. Its roof fell with a crash, leaving only its smoking embers to tell where it had stood. Our Dayaks were mad with excitement, flying about with heads; many with frightful wounds, some even mortal.

Unhappily the leading murderers escaped; they succeeded in cutting their way through the attacking force. The Tuan Muda's party suffered heavily, and about thirty-five Dayaks were killed by poisoned arrows. The puncture shows no larger than if it had been made by a pin. Drowsiness ensues, and death follows in half an hour. One of the Malays, who was thus wounded, was saved by being given a glass of brandy, and being kept to his feet, walking, in spite of his entreaties to be allowed to lie down and sleep. Sakalai's wife and some of the women were saved, and were sent to their friends.

After remaining some time at Kanowit to establish confidence among the Dayaks, and to set a guard in the new fort, of which Abang Ali was placed in charge, the Tuan Muda returned to Kuching, stopping on his way at Serikei, when again Sherip Masahor dissembled, and received him with marked respect and attention; he subsequently learnt that this visit was near being his last to any one on earth. At Kuching the Tuan Muda was welcomed by his countrymen, the Malays and Chinese, with every honour; what he had effected had gladdened the hearts of all, but the troubles were not at an end.

The rumours we have mentioned of the massacre of Europeans in Dutch Borneo had caused extreme disquiet amongst the natives generally, and the murders of Steele and Fox led them to believe that the fate wherewith all Europeans were threatened was to overtake those in Sarawak as well, and that the Bruni Rajahs were about to resume possession of the country. Reports calculated to disturb the minds of the people were diligently spread, and one, which came from Bruni, was that the Queen of England was so incensed against the Rajah that she had ordered his execution, and that his life was spared only by the intervention of the Sultan.

A deep and intricate plot had been formed, the active principals in Sarawak being the Sherip Masahor, the Datu Haji, and the Bandar Kasim, and trustworthy intelligence was subsequently received that they were being backed up by the Bruni Government, or rather the dominant party there, by whom an agent had been despatched along the coast to extort goods from the natives, and to communicate with the Sherip, to whom a kris was presented with which the white men in Sarawak were to be put to death. There was unity of action, moreover, between the conspirators and their friends in Western or Netherlands Borneo, and of this the Dutch were aware. They had early intelligence of the plotting, and warned the Sarawak Government. But the precipitate action at Kanowit and the subsequent proceedings of the Tuan Muda had for a time hindered the conspirators, and rendered it necessary for them to dissemble, even to the extent of sacrificing some of their own supporters, which served a double purpose—to throw off suspicion from themselves, and to silence dangerous tongues. But within a short time they were again active, though lack of concerted action, as in the case of so many other conspiracies designed to act simultaneously at various points, led to failure, through too great precipitation of some of the plotters.

The Datu Haji was the first to commence. He had remained at Serikei when the Tuan Muda left that place on his return from Kanowit, and his object in accompanying the Tuan Muda there was, while professing loyalty, to deliberate with the Sherip. On his return to Kuching he proceeded to Lundu, and there incited the Land-Dayaks to insurrection, telling them that 2000 white men had already been killed, and the rest were to be cut off immediately; he further threatened the Dayaks that if they did not become Muhammadans they would share the same fate. This story he had told also to Dayaks in the neighbourhood of Kuching. A subtle plan was formed to march overland on the town, and in the dead of night quietly to fire some houses and then fall on the English, who would be certain to turn out to help to extinguish the fires, and so would fall easy victims.

The old Datu Temanggong was the first to warn the Tuan Muda. He went to him, and, after taking the precaution of ordering all his followers out of the room, told him to take care of himself, and not to ride and walk about unarmed. He further observed that many suspicious reports were flying about. The chiefs were at once assembled, and were unanimous in recommending that the English officers should wear arms. "Why do we wear arms?" they said, "because we cannot trust our neighbours." The Datu Imaum added that he, being a haji, was not supposed to wear a sword, and opening his robe showed a hidden kris, sharp as a razor. The Tuan Muda was aware that it was useless asking them at this stage to give their authority for these suspicions; he knew they were not yet prepared openly to go further than to warn him to be on his guard—what had come to their ears would be told him privately, and in due course of time. Natives are extremely reticent and cautious at such times. The datus did not wish to warn foes as well as friends, and were on their guard against unsuspected spies and babbling tongues. The warning was rightly regarded, and the Tuan Muda and his officers prepared to meet the dangers that were brewing.