A History of Sarawak under Its Two White Rajahs 1839-1908

by S. Baring-Gould; C. A. Bampfylde

But no progress up the river could be effected till the booms had been removed, and this would not be an easy matter, as they were commanded by the forts. It could be effected only at night, and by expert and daring swimmers. The Tuan Muda, Pangiran Matusin, and a nakoda, undertook the task. Under cover of the darkness, in a small canoe, they stole softly up the bank, unobserved, and then the pangiran and nakoda entering the water, with their swords set to work to sever the rattans that held the booms in place. These rattans had been twisted together to the thickness of a hawser cable, and had to be cut under water. It was an anxious time for the Tuan Muda, as any moment might have brought a volley on their heads.

In an hour they were severed. Towards the latter part of the time, the enemy were on the alert, and one boom moved slightly with the tide, when a few harmless shots ensued, which we heard pass over our heads among the leaves. At length the two men returned, and the enemy cried out, "Our booms are adrift," and forthwith banged away, but never caught sight of us. Matusin was so exhausted that I had to assist him into the boat, and at first I thought he was wounded.

The tide was ebbing, and the booms, now disengaged, floated downwards towards the sea. The passage was clear for the venture upwards of the Venus. Messrs. Watson and John Channon accompanied the Tuan Muda, who had a crew of nine Europeans, besides the Malay complement.

On that night the attempt was to be made, anchor to be raised half an hour before midnight, when the tide was flowing. Happily the weather favoured, as a thick mist and drizzling rain set in.

We triced up the awnings and up anchor, when the tide swept us on so swiftly that I soon found it would be hopeless trying to turn the vessel, so we drifted stern first, with two oars out on each side to assist in steering. Our guns were loaded and ready, and not a voice was to be heard as we silently and swiftly drifted along. I stood on the top of the stockade to pilot the vessel. We were soon off the camp (of the land force under the Tuan Besar), from which I was hailed to look out as the enemy would fire on us directly. I replied "All right," and then stepped on deck to be under cover. Just as I was so doing, a shot was fired from the bank close abreast of us. Another five minutes, and we were fairly in the fray. I heard the enemy call "Look out, the pinnace is drifting up," and they blazed on us volley after volley, as we lay within five or six yards of their fortifications. Watson watched to fire as the enemy opened their ports, but the haze was far too dense for us to discern anything at all; I soon found, however, that we were not progressing, and had fouled something. We swung to and fro, at times close under the enemy's guns, and then away into the centre of the stream.

We let go our anchor and hauled it up again, but all to no purpose, and we were at a loss to know what had fouled us. We then laid out a kedge and hove it home, without moving clear, and every now and then we blazed our 6-pounder of grape into the enemy, while they peppered us incessantly. The position was far from pleasant with guns banging all around and the fog and smoke so dense as to preclude a possibility of making out our position. At length I found that a large rattan made fast to one of the booms which had been cut adrift was holding us. The rattan was across the river, and the enemy had evidently entertained the intention of reconstructing their booms that night. I ordered a plucky young native[^[258]] to jump down and cut it, which he did with two strokes of his sword. This had been holding us now for more than two hours under the enemy's fire.

Directly the rattan was gone, the schooner swung sufficiently to bring the guns to bear on a lofty building whence most of the firing had come, and, after a round of grape, the wailing of women was heard issuing from it, and the enemy's fire was silenced. Next morning it was ascertained that the Pangiran Lada, brother of Pangiran Nipa, and some of his followers had been killed. The tide was still flowing, and the Venus drifted on above the town, and anchor was cast within range of all the houses. Only one small stockaded place continued to fire on her.

Four hours had elapsed since we started; for three we had been exposed to fire. When we had passed the danger, our men gave three hearty cheers, which was answered by the party in the camp. At daylight we found a goodly mess on our decks, shot, pieces of iron, and nails in bucketfuls; our spars and ropes had been considerably damaged and cut about. The awnings were riddled with grape and nails; scarce a square foot had escaped uncut, but only two men were wounded, one, an Englishman, in the face. The other was struck in the leg by a splinter; but the barricading of wood had most effectually saved us all; without it, I don't think one would have lived to tell the story.

After an hour's work, the deck had been cleared, and then we opened fire upon the enemy's village, or rather on the headman's house (Pangiran Nipa's), which had guns mounted on the roof. The women and children had all been taken up a small stream on which the village is situate.[^[259]] The only return was kept up by the small stockade which had troubled us on the previous night, and this place must have been guarded by some very determined fellows.

The whole country—if only we had an available force with us—was in our hands. To all appearance the place was deserted, and it provoked us beyond measure not to be able to take the initiative. In the course of the afternoon we determined to pull higher up the river, and take up a position to communicate with our force at the mouth. We should also be above the enemy's fortifications, and enabled to receive and support those who were inclined to favour our cause.