The main body of the Chinese retired by road to Segobang, and from thence up-river in their boats.
We have already recorded how the news had been brought to the Tuan Muda at Sekrang, and how he hurried with his Dayaks to the Rajah's rescue, to find him safe and in good health, though crippled by the injuries he had received, on board the Sir James Brooke, which he had made his headquarters. Kuching was wrecked—"a mass of ashes, and confusion and ruin lay around. Half-habitable débris of houses only were left. The trees for many hundred yards around the fires were nearly all burnt black and leafless, and those remaining alive were drooping," so the Tuan Muda wrote, and we will now follow his account of the retribution which the rebels so deservedly met.
To check the pursuing boats of the Dayaks and Malays, the Chinese had thrown up a strong stockade at Lidah Tanah (lit. the tongue of land), a point of land at the junction of the right and left hand branches of the river. Here they placed a picked garrison under trusted leaders, and the stockade was well armed with guns and rifles that had been taken from Kuching.
A small force of Malays, and several hundreds of Sekrang and Saribas Dayaks were organised to attack it, and the mild Datu Bandar, in his new rôle of a redoubtable warrior, led them with such dash that the position was soon carried. Amongst the trophies that were brought back by the Dayaks the Chinese merchants recognised the heads of some of the principal leaders of the rebels, and showed marked satisfaction that such was the case.
The Rajah and the Tuan Muda then pushed on to Belidah, about eight miles above Lidah Tanah. Here the fort was found to have been destroyed, the rebels having left little behind them in their retreat but desolation and misery. The Malays and Dayaks were then despatched under Abang Buyong to attack the Chinese, but these latter were in full retreat from Bau, and their other villages, towards the border; once across they would be safe:
but the dogs of war were at their heels, harassing and cutting them off at every opportunity. Their plan of retreat was very skilfully arranged, and a fanatical idea of the infallibility of their Joss (idol), which they carried with them, kept them in order. We were helpless to a certain extent, in being unable to gather together an organised force, or we should have routed them without doubt, and fearful loss of life would have been the consequence. In looking back on these events, it was perhaps fortunate that we were not able to act more unitedly against them, but if it had been within our power at that time, the Joss undoubtedly would have been overturned, and the people exterminated. The most merciful of men could not deny that they had richly merited such a punishment. They protected this image with the utmost caution, keeping their women and children around it, while their bravest men acted as a guard on the outside. They had advanced a considerable distance before the Dayaks approached. The Dayak leaders on closing were at once shot down. This made the others more cautious. But the Chinamen had our best rifles and arms, with all the necessary accoutrements belonging to them. The Dayaks then changed their tactics, and did not dare appear in the open road again, but entered the jungle on each side of the enemy, and thus harassed them continually, cutting off every straggler without mercy. The Chinamen were powerless to follow these wild cat-like fellows into the close jungles, and were obliged to submit to their fate as best they might. The road over which the rebels were retreating was one continued track of clothes, valuables, silver plate, and dead bodies. To enable their retreating force to gain a few minutes whilst passing precipitous places, they strewed the road with rice, and threw here and there a valuable article to retard and keep off their pursuers. This continued for several successive days, during which the Chinese must have suffered intensely. They were not even able to cook or sleep by night or day. They now arrived at a point which must have ended their career, if it had been properly held. This was Gombang Hill, which forms the frontier between Sambas and Sarawak: here was a long Dayak house, past which the Chinese could not go unless the inhabitants were favourably disposed to them;[[219]]—
but these suffered themselves to be bribed into permitting the rebels to pass unmolested. Thus the survivors of the Chinese escaped into Sambas territory.
But no sooner were they there than those of the Chinese who did not belong to the Secret Society, filled with resentment against the members of that league for having involved them in such disaster, fell upon them, and killed many of them, reducing the hundred of the original band of 600, who had survived the muskets and spears of the Dayaks, to between thirty and forty. To add to their discomfiture, the Dutch officers came upon them and despoiled them of all the arms and plunder they had succeeded in bringing with them, and placed them under strict surveillance. The Dutch Government sent back to Kuching everything which was considered to be public or private property.[[220]]
How many of the rebels were killed it has not been possible to estimate, but it could not have been far short of 1000. Sir Spenser estimates that 2000, of which half were women and children, escaped over the borders, but this is probably an under-estimate.
"It was the madness," wrote the Rajah, "the stark staring folly of the attempt that caused it to succeed. With mankind in general we may trust to their not doing anything utterly opposed to reason; but this rule does not hold good with the Chinese," who in their blindness of consequences become daring and audacious, and, when possessed of power, contemptuous of their adversaries, but who lose spirit on the first reverse.