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

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

The enemy showed no opposition outside, and after marching about four miles, we arrived at a hill in their vicinity. It was a fiery hot morning without a cloud, and the hills, though low, were very precipitous. The Europeans kept near the guns, to assist in their progress up the steeps, and when we were mounting the last rising ground on which the enemy was fortified, we found some of the leaders of our force had foolishly advanced too near, and a few had been killed and wounded, and were now being carried to the rear. The enemy had two long houses on the ridge of a hill, surrounded by steep ground excepting at the end. Here high stakes were driven into the earth, and around all a firm and thick stockade. The 4-pounder gun was mounted after considerable delay, and, when the rocket tube was in place, we opened fire on one end, while the 3-pounder played away on the other. The enemy answered our fire pretty briskly with their lelahs.[^[196]] We could see the men rushing to and fro covered with their shields, also parties dancing to the music of the gongs. Some of their voices we heard distinctly, saying they would never succumb to the tight-breeched men (white men) or to any other strangers. Mr. Crookshank (at considerable risk) took charge of the rockets, which were of ancient make, and a few that were fired entered the fort and did great execution, but the majority whizzed round and round and sometimes lodged in the ground among our own party; we were all more afraid of these missiles than anything the enemy could produce. Early in the afternoon there was a commotion among the enemy, and we could discern women and children leaving on the opposite side of the hill, but the men stood fast and kept their posts.

Our old Penglima[^[197]] was biding his time, for he yet knew that he might lead, but others would not follow. He worked steadily and quietly, amid many jeers from some of our own native party, who asked why the warrior did not make an advance: his reply between his teeth was—"Your words are more than your deeds." As the sun drew near to the horizon, the Penglima moved up to the enemy's stockade, silently opened the palisade, and, after a moment's peep, jumped in, followed by others, who gave a loud cheer and drew their swords. The enemy, finding a lodgment had been made inside, immediately took to their heels and fled down the hill. We followed in close to the leaders; the entrance was so narrow that many received contusions when passing through. About fifty or sixty of the enemy were tearing away over the open ground, covering their bodies with their shields.

These were followed by all the defenders of the stockade, who rolled down the side of the hill, a living wave, bearing away with them their chief Rentap, who had been wounded. The stockade was taken, and within its defences the victors passed the night, whilst the enemy fled precipitately to a second and still stronger fastness on the summit of the mountain Sadok, which loomed in the distance. One of the most curious and significant features of the conflict was that, whilst it was in progress, the hills and every commanding position around were crowded with Dayaks, the adherents of Bulan, as well as others, who watched it with lively interest, taking no part on one side or the other, but waiting to see to which side the scale would incline. Had the attacking force met with discomfiture, these men would have fallen on it and harassed the party as it retreated.

If, after the defeat of Rentap and the capture of the stockade in the Lang, they did not tender allegiance to the Government, it was because the expedition retired immediately after having achieved its first success, and, therefore, it gave the waverers no permanent assurance of protection against Rentap's resentment.

To have crushed Rentap, it would have been necessary to have pursued him to his second stronghold at Sadok, but this was not done. Captain Brooke in command doubtless saw the expediency of following up a routed foe, but Dayak warriors are wont to rest content with a single victory, and, that gained, to become uncontrollably impatient to return home; besides, the force was in too disturbed a state to undertake any organised attack; accordingly, after making a circuit of devastation, it returned.

The result was that Rentap continued to give trouble for seven years.

Brereton died of dysentery, brought on by exposure, shortly after this expedition, and the Tuan Muda was placed in charge of the Batang Lupar in October, 1854. The district was in a very disturbed state, and to establish order by putting an end to intertribal feuds and promiscuous head-hunting required an unceasing watch being kept on all, and necessitated many punitive expeditions being made. The Tuan Muda had but a handful of fortmen, for there was no money to spend; not more than £30 per mensem being allowed even so late as 1860 for the upkeep of the district, and it must have been less then. Little support could be expected from the capital. On the Kajulau expedition the Tuan Muda could muster no more than 100 antiquated muskets and a few rifles, which included twelve flint and six percussion muskets, all that could be spared from Kuching. There was much to be done, but there was deficiency of means to do the work. The Rajah's advice to him was: "to encourage the good, intimidate the bad, and confirm the wavering." The difficulties were so many, and the means at hand so limited, that the position would have been hopeless except to a man of great tact, patience, daring, and untiring activity, able to bear all the responsibility, all the anxiety, and all the work upon his own shoulders. It must be borne in mind that Kuching was some 125 miles away, that those were the days when there were no steamers, and that during the north-east monsoon navigation was dangerous to boats. How the Tuan Muda succeeded will be told in this record of his career; here it will be sufficient to say, quoting the late Rajah, "that he was the right man in the right place, and that we are all children in Dayak management compared to him."

In 1856, the Tuan Muda writes (in Ten Years in Sarawak):—

We are almost daily having alarms in one place or another; sometimes on water and sometimes on land. And upon one side of the whole length of the river, the inhabitants dare not farm or live, fearing attacks from the interior of Sekrang and Saribas. Small parties make their foraging excursions and run away with a head here and there, and are far distant before we can follow them up.

Intertribal feuds, which had been more or less dropped in the common cause of piracy—and the plethora of heads it afforded—had now broken out again, and were growing in intensity. Besides these troubles in the Batang Lupar and Saribas, the Dayaks of the Rejang living on the Serikei and Kajulau rivers were giving considerable trouble. These Dayaks had moved over from the Sekrang and Saribas and were hand-in-glove with Rentap's rebels. They were open and declared enemies of the Government. The Kajulau was considered to be the centre of the enemy's country, and also to be inaccessible to attack. Confident in their impunity, they were becoming a terror to the peaceable inhabitants of the Rejang delta, so the Tuan Muda determined to attack them, and organised an expedition—the first to act independently of Kuching assistance, except for the loan of the dozen old muskets above mentioned.