On June 6, 1856, the force, comprising a few Malays, and some 3000 Dayaks, started. To take the enemy by surprise the Tuan Muda decided to go up the Kalaka and march overland. Though the Malays of this river had suffered severely at the hands of the Kajulaus, they at first refused to accompany the expedition, regarding the difficulties as insuperable, and the danger as overwhelming. The result was that half the Malay force the Tuan Muda had brought with him were intimidated, and began to cry off; but Abang Aing restored their confidence, and shamed the Kalakas into accompanying the expedition. On the 14th, after having encountered great difficulties in passing the rapids, the force reached the Budu stream, and here the boats were left, but as there were enemies ahead and enemies to the right (the Saribas) a strong stockade was erected and garrisoned, to serve as a base and to guard the rear. Near this base were two long Dayak houses, and in one of them was staying a notorious Saribas Dayak chief named Saji. As the people were not declared enemies, though very doubtful friends, Saji could not be touched, but he remained a danger to be reckoned with, and against whom precautions had to be taken, for as soon as the expedition started overland he would be able to follow it with hundreds of men. But Saji was cautious. He preferred to wait to make his attack till the return of the expedition, when it would be easier to surprise, for, if not defeated, it would probably be disorganised. The march commenced on the 16th. The bala formed in three columns with the Malays in the centre, and at evening the tawaks (gongs) of the enemy could be heard in the distance sounding the alarm. But it was not until the 18th, after a tedious march over hilly land, that the verge of the enemy's country was reached. At 3 P.M. a sharp encounter took place, and the enemy were driven off, leaving a few dead on the field, and several long houses that had been abandoned in haste were entered and plundered. One of these houses the Tuan Muda occupied; and, finding that the enemy, taken by surprise, attempted no attack and offered no organised resistance, the force was divided up and despatched in different directions under their own leaders to burn and destroy.
Here an episode occurred which nearly proved disastrous. On the afternoon of the 19th, an attack was expected, and the house occupied by the Tuan Muda was greatly crowded with warriors to defend it. At 7 o'clock it was observed that the posts supporting the house were sloping considerably, and it was found that this had been caused by the Dayaks having stowed away in it overmuch of their heavy plunder, such as brass guns, jars, and gongs, and hundreds had gone up into the house, though by custom they ought to have remained without on the ground. A collapse would have meant the loss of many lives, and would have been taken advantage of by the watchful enemy. Upon the insistence of Abang Aing, the Tuan Muda left the house, and the Malays were directed to turn the Dayaks out instantly. But this was by no means easy to be done; indeed the Dayaks resisted being made to evacuate the house and leave their plunder there.
Whilst the Tuan Muda was sitting out in the moonlight, a sudden din and the sounds of strife arose from the house. Men came flying down the ladder, and others hurried up it. Then three Balau Dayak chiefs begged the Tuan Muda to go up immediately. Against the protests of Abang Aing, with sword and gun in hand, he ascended, and found Dayaks and Malays in a heated and dangerous condition, opposed to one another with drawn swords in their hands. Planting himself between the antagonists, the Tuan Muda ordered silence, and cocking his double-barrelled gun and placing the muzzle within two inches of the leading Dayak's head, he ordered him to leave the house. Amidst a dead silence the chief went, followed by the Tuan Muda, the Dayaks edging away and making a path for them along the verandah to the ladder. Thus ended the disturbance, and by the morrow it was forgotten. It was arrested just in time to prevent a desperate encounter between the Malays and Dayaks, which would have been taken up by the other Dayak factions—for in the bala were Dayaks of different tribes, only held together by the controlling influence of their white chief—and there would have been fighting among themselves. The enemy, taking advantage of this, would have fallen upon and routed them, and the survivors flying to regain the boats would have been cut off by Saji and his Saribas. The power of the Government among the Sea-Dayaks would have been broken completely, and it would have taken many years to recover it, a calamity which was averted by the bold and prompt action of the Tuan Muda, and his personal power over Malays and Dayaks alike.
On the 20th, the attacking parties returned after having destroyed twenty-five villages, and having secured an immense amount of plunder. There were but few killed on either side; the enemy had given way, cowed, and had offered but little resistance.
Thus was a severe lesson administered to the Sea-Dayaks, which they never forgot, and it showed them that they could and would be treated even as they had so long treated others with impunity.
"There is no way," wrote the Tuan Muda, "but burning them out of house and home—dreadful as this may appear. The women too must suffer, for they are the principal inciters of these bloody exploits.[[198]] An attack on a Dayak force, the destruction of the whole of it, with the lives of the men, is no permanent advancement towards cessation of head-taking. But the burning down of a village, loss of goods, old relics, such as heads, arms, and jars,[[199]] and putting the inhabitants, male and female, to excessive inconvenience—all this fills them with fear and makes them think of the consequences of taking the heads of strangers. These inland abodes have been and are everlasting fastnesses in their imagination. Besides, they always express very freely their opinion of white men; 'they are powerful, having arms and ships at sea, but it is only we Dayaks who can walk and fight on land and clamber steep mountains.'"
On the 21st, the march home was commenced, the leaders in the advance becoming now the rearmost. These were the most trusted and bravest chiefs; conspicuous among them was Pangiran Matali. Their instructions were positive—to keep a sharp look-out for the enemy, and to permit no one to lag behind. Most of the Dayaks were heavily laden with plunder, and the enemy was hovering about their track in the hope of cutting off the stragglers.
On the return to the stockade:
A delicious bathe, and some wine and water were the first things to have. Then a lounge in the boat in thin clothing, with that exhilarating feeling of lightness which one experiences after a Turkish bath. During my enjoyment in the satisfaction that our trials were well-nigh over, a rush was heard with tumultuous yells, and armed people were dashing back over the path by which we had come. I soon learnt that "Iron Anchor"[[200]] and Pangiran Matali had been attacked in the rear, and within five minutes two Dayaks rushed to my boat carrying a head yet gory and dripping. The yells and cheers were deafening, and it was some time before I could get the particulars of what had happened. After the noise had somewhat subsided "Iron Anchor" and the Pangiran came to me and told me that as they were marching and bringing up the rear, about three miles off, a party of Dayaks came down the hill close to them. The Pangiran hailed and asked them who they were; the answer was, "We are of one bala (force)." Our party hailed again and then fired. Two of the strangers fell dead, the others took to flight. On Sandom[[201]] following them up, he saw Saji with a large party fully armed for the purpose of making an onslaught on our rear. The Pangiran fortunately could recognize the Dayak tribes, and well knew their craft and different costumes. Our party escaped unhurt, and Saji, who had, I subsequently was told, vaunted that he would get forty of our heads, mine amongst the number, ran for his life, leaving two dead behind him.
In February, 1857, the Tuan Muda received the startling news that the Chinese had risen and fallen upon Kuching. He was told that the Rajah had been killed, along with Mr. Crookshank and many other Europeans. Before ten minutes had passed, Sekrang fort was crowded with armed men breathing vengeance, and within an hour, boats had been launched and the Tuan Muda with Abang Aing had started. Below Lingga next morning they met the vessel bearing the English refugees—the Bishop, his family, and others, and from them the Tuan Muda learnt the glad tidings of the Rajah's safety. Knowing that his force would be sufficient to crush the rebels and re-establish the Rajah's rule, he pushed on with his mind now more at ease. He arrived at Kuching to find the town in ruins, but the Rajah in charge again on board the Borneo Company's steamer Sir James Brooke. As a full account of the insurrection and of the subsequent events will be found in the following chapter, we will now return to the subject of this one to preserve a continuous record of the events that led to the downfall of Rentap.