“We can present nothing better to our friend than a kris, such as it is.
“20th day of Rahial Akhir, 1257.”
To which I sent the following reply:—
“Captain Keppel begs to acknowledge the receipt of the Rajah Muda Hassimʼs letter, representing that the Dyaks of Sarebus and Sakarran are the pirates who infest the coast of Borneo, and do material damage to the trade of Singapore.
“Captain Keppel will take speedy measures to suppress these and all other pirates, and feels confident that her Britannic Majesty will be glad to learn that the Rajah Muda Hassim is ready to coöperate in so laudable an undertaking.”
Not being prepared for the oriental fashion of exchanging presents, I had nothing to offer to his rajahship; but I found out afterward that Mr. Brooke had (unknown to me) sent him a clock in my name. The royal kris was handsome, the handle of carved ivory, with a good deal of gold about it.
This information about the pirates gave me good ground to make a beginning; and having arranged with Mr. Brooke to obtain all necessary intelligence relative to their position, strength, and numbers,[1] I determined on attacking them in their strongholds, commencing with the Sarebus, who, from all accounts, were by far the most strongly fortified. Mr. Brooke accepted my invitation to accompany us, as well as to supply a native force of about three hundred men, who, should we succeed in the destruction of the pirate forts, would be useful in the jungle. Mr. Brookeʼs going to join personally in a war against (in the opinion of the Datus) such formidable opponents as the Sakarran and Sarebus pirates—who had never yet been conquered, although repeatedly attacked by the united forces of the surrounding rajahs—was strongly opposed by the chiefs. On his informing them that he should go, but leaving it optional whether they would accompany him or not, their simple reply was, “What is the use of our remaining? If you die, we die; and if you live, we live; we will go with you.” Preparations for the expedition were accordingly commenced.
No place could have suited us better for a refit. Within a few yards of the ship was a Chinese workshop. Our boats were hauled up to repair under sheds, and we drew our fresh water alongside; and while the Dido was at Sarāwak, Mr. Jago, the carpenter, built a very beautiful thirty-foot gig, having cut the plank up in the Chinamanʼs sawpit.
While these works were in progress, I accompanied Mr. Brooke up the river. The Royalist having been dispatched to Singapore with our letters, we started on our pleasure-excursion. With the officers from the Dido and the chiefs, who always accompany the “Tuan Besar,” we mustered about sixty persons; and with our guns, walking-sticks, cigars, and a well supplied commissariat, determined to enjoy ourselves.
We were not long in making the acquaintances of the chiefs. Men who had formerly rebelled, who were conquered by Mr. Brooke, and had their (forfeited) lives saved, their families restored to them, and themselves finally reinstated in the offices they had previously held—these men were very naturally and faithfully attached. Our young gentlemen found their Malayan names difficult to remember, so that the gallant old Patingi Ali was seldom called any other name than that of “Three-Fingered Jack,” from his having lost part of his right hand; the Tumangong was spoken of as the “Father of Hopeful,” from one of his children, a fine little fellow, whom he was foolishly attached to, and seldom seen without.