Life in the forests of the Far East (vol. 2 of 2)

by Sir Spenser St. John

Everything now appeared to be arranged, when it was suggested that perhaps Mr. Johnson might not quite approve of the conduct of the Chinese in murdering his uncle and his friends; for the rajah at that moment was supposed to be dead, and the head of Mr. Nicholets was shown as the proof. At the mention of Mr. Johnson’s name there was a pause, a blankness came over all their faces, and they looked at each other, as they now remembered apparently for the first time that he, the rajah’s nephew, was the governor of the Sea Dayaks, and could let loose at least 10,000 wild warriors upon them. At last it was suggested, after an animated discussion, that a letter should be sent to him, requesting him to confine himself to his own government, and then they would not attempt to interfere with him.

The Chinese were very anxious to have matters settled, as with all their boasts they did not feel quite comfortable, and were anxious to secure the plunder they had obtained. They now called upon the gentlemen and the Malay chiefs present to swear fidelity to the kunsi, and under the fear of death they were obliged to go through the Chinese formula of taking oaths by killing fowls. Next day the rebels retired up country unmolested by the Malays, and a meeting was at once held at the datu bandhar’s house to discuss future proceedings; at first no one spoke, there was a gloom over the assembly, as the mass of the population was deserting the town, carrying off their women and children to Samarahan as a place of safety, when abang Patah, son to the datu tumanggong, addressed the assembly. He was a sturdy man, with a pleasant, cheerful countenance, and a warm friend to English rule, and his first words were,—“Are we going to submit to be governed by Chinese chiefs, or are we to remain faithful to our rajah? I am a man of few words, and I say I will never be governed by any but him, and to-night I commence war to the knife against his enemies.”

This was the unanimous determination of the assembly, but they were divided as to the course to be pursued. Patah, however, cut the knot of the difficulty by manning a light canoe with a dozen Malays, and proceeding at once up the river, attacked and captured a Chinese boat, killing five of its defenders. In the meantime the women and children were all removed from the town, and some boats were armed and manned, but imperfectly, as the Chinese had taken away the contents of the arsenal, and the principal portion of the crews were engaged in conveying the fugitives to Samarahan.

Patah’s bold act was well-meaning, but perhaps premature, as the Malays, being scattered, could not organize a resistance, and urgent entreaties were made to the rajah by well-meaning but injudicious friends, to return and head this movement. He complied, though he knew its futility, and arrived at Kuching to find the rest of the English flying, the town in the hands of the Chinese, and smoke rising in every direction from the burning Malay houses. It appeared when the news reached the Chinese that the Malays were preparing for resistance, they determined to return immediately and attack them before their preparations were completed. They divided their forces into two portions, as they were now recruited by several hundreds from the other gold workings, and had forced all the agriculturists at Sungei Tañgah to join them; in fact, their great cargo boats would not hold their numbers, so one-half marched down the road leading from the fields I have mentioned, near the little hill of Stapok, while the rest came by river.

As soon as the Malays saw the Chinese boats rounding the point, they boldly dashed at them, forced them to the river’s banks, drove out the crews, and triumphantly captured ten of the largest. The Chinese, better armed, kept up a hot fire from the rising ground, and killed several of the best men among the Malays, among others abang Gapur, whose disbelief in his kinsman’s story enabled the rebels to surprise the town, and who to his last breath bewailed his fatal mistake; and one who was equally to be regretted, our old follower Kasim, whom I have so often mentioned in the earlier chapters. The latter lingered long enough to see the rajah again triumphant, and said he died happy in knowing it. It was he who, though a good Mahomedan, and without knowing he was a plagiarist, used to say,—“I would rather be in hell with the English, than in heaven with you, my own countrymen.” Notwithstanding their losses, the Malays towed away the boats, fortunately laden with some of the most valuable booty, and secured them to a large trading prahu anchored in the centre of the river. Having thus captured also some better arms and ammunition, they kept up a fire on their enemies who lined the banks.

In the meantime the rajah arrived opposite the Chinese quarter, and found a complete panic prevailing, and all those who had preceded him flying in every direction; having vainly endeavoured to restore a little order, he returned to carry out his original intention. He joined the fugitives farther down the river, and having sent off the ladies and the wounded to the secure fort of Lingga, under the care of the bishop and as many Englishmen as he could spare, he prepared on the following day to take the same route, in order to obtain a base of operations, and a secure spot to rally the people and await a fresh supply of arms. It was sad to think of the mischief which might happen during this period of enforced inaction, particularly as the datu bandhar and a chosen band were still in Kuching anchored in the centre of the river, and making attacks whenever they saw a chance. The Chinese were dragging up heavy guns, and it was evident the Malays could not hold for many days, and there was now nothing to defend, as the flames reddened the horizon and the increasing volumes of smoke told the tale too well that the town was being destroyed.

With feelings of the most acute distress these few Englishmen, under their brave leader, put out to sea to bear away eastward; when a cry arose among the men, “Smoke, smoke, it is a steamer!” and sure enough there was a dark column rising in the air from a three-masted vessel; for a moment it was uncertain which course she was steering, but presently they distinguished her flag; it was the Sir James Brooke, the Borneo company’s steamer, standing right in for the Muaratabas entrance of the Sarawak River. The crew of the rajah’s boat with shouts gave way, and the prahu was urged along with all the power of their oars, to find the vessel anchored just within the mouth.

Here, indeed, was a base of operations; the rajah felt the country was saved. The native boats were taken in tow, and the reinforcements of Dayaks, who were already arriving, followed up with eager speed. What were the feelings of the Chinese when they saw the smoke, then the steamer, it is not necessary to conjecture; they fired one wild volley from every available gun and musket; but the balls fell harmlessly; and when the English guns opened on them, they fled panic-stricken, pursued by the rejoicing Malays and Dayaks.

Early that morning a large party of Chinese had crossed from the right to the left bank to burn the half of the town which had previously escaped; but though they succeeded in destroying the greater portion, they signed their own death warrant, as the Malays, now resuming the offensive, seized the remainder of their boats, and the relentless Dayaks pursued them through the forests. Not one of that party could have escaped; some wandered long in the forests and died of starvation, others were found hanging to the boughs of trees, preferring death by suicide to the lingering torments of hunger. All these bodies were afterwards found, and the natives said on every one of them were from five to twenty pounds sterling in cash, silver spoons or forks, or other valuables, the plunder of the English houses.

Thus was the capital recovered; the Chinese on the right bank all fled by the road, and thence retired up to the fort of Biledah, opposite the town of Siniawan. The Land Dayaks were all ready assembled under their different chiefs, and these without one exception stood faithful to the government, and now rushed in every direction on the Chinese, driving them from their villages, and compelling them to assemble and defend two spots only, Siniawan and Bau, with the landing places of the latter. The smoke rising in every direction showed them that the loss they had inflicted on others was now retaliated on them. The kunsi had in their blind confidence made no preparations for an evil day, and it was well known that their stock of food was small, as everything had been destroyed except their own stores at Tundong, Bau, and a little at Siniawan, and they were required to supply all those whom they had forced to join them from the town and the whole agricultural population.