Rajah Brooke

by Sir Spenser St. John

From Celebes Brooke returned to Singapore to refit. His plans were to visit Borneo again, then proceed to Manila, and so home by Cape Horn. He arrived at our settlement in May, left it again in August, and reached Sarawak on the 29th, to find himself cordially received by Muda Hassim. The war was not over, nor was the end of it in sight. A few half-starved Dyaks had deserted the Sarawak Malays, and come into the Bornean camp to be fed; but the route to Sambas was still open, and it was suspected that supplies were furnished by the Sultan of Sambas, who coveted the territory.

After considerable discussion and consideration, Brooke thought he would visit the headquarters of the army which was supposed to be besieging the enemy; but he found it seven miles below the principal hostile fort. The spot was called Ledah Tanah, or the tongue of land, where the two branches of the river meet. It was the site of the old capital, and even when I was there some ten years later the iron-wood posts of the houses still existed, untouched by time, though over sixty years in use. As Brooke expected, Makota, at the head of the army, was doing nothing, and as he rejected the advice of his white visitor, and seemed determined not to advance nearer to the enemy, Brooke returned to Sarawak, and even announced his departure, as the North-East monsoon was coming on, and he did not wish to face it on his voyage to Manila. However, Muda Hassim appeared to feel his departure so acutely, that his heart smote him, and he agreed to visit the army once more, particularly as the Land Dyaks were now really leaving the rebels and joining the Bornean forces. He therefore returned to the camp, and by his energy compelled Makota to act. The stockade at Ledah Tanah was pulled down and moved to within a mile of the enemy’s chief fort, Balidah, and gradually stockade after stockade was built, until the most commanding one was erected within three hundred yards of the hostile fort. Brooke sent to the yacht for two six-pounders and a sufficient supply of ammunition, and, with the aid of his men, soon battered down the weak defences of the enemy, and then proposed an assault. But this bold advice was looked upon as insanity, and though promises to advance were freely given, when it came to action they all hung back. At length, wearied with this procrastination, Brooke, in spite of the entreaties of all the native chiefs, embarked his guns and returned to the Royalist, and sent word to the rajah that his stay was utterly useless; but when Muda Hassim heard the decision, ‘his deep regret was so visible that even all the self-command of the native could not disguise it. He begged, he entreated me to stay, and offered me the country, its government and its trade, if I would only stop and not desert him.’

Though Brooke could not accept the grant then, as it would have been extracted from the rajah’s deep distress, he agreed to return to the army; and once more the guns were embarked in the boats, and every man who could be spared from the Royalist accompanied Brooke to the front. There he met Budrudin, Muda Hassim’s favourite brother, with whom he soon contracted a friendship which ended only with the Malay prince’s life. He was brave, frank and intelligent; he quickly appreciated the noble character of the white leader of men, and ever after he fully trusted him.

The episodes of the closing campaign of this civil war were so amusing, that although the story has been published several times, I cannot refrain from repeating it again in the words of the English chief.[6]

‘On the 10th December we reached the fleet and disembarked our guns, taking up our residence in a house, or rather shed, close to the water. The rajah’s brother, Pangeran Budrudin, was with the army, and I found him ready and willing to urge upon the other indolent pangerans the proposals I made for vigorous hostilities. We found the grand army in a state of torpor, eating, drinking and walking up to the forts and back again daily; but having built these imposing structures, and their appearance not driving the enemy away, they were at a loss what to do next, or how to proceed. On my arrival, I once more insisted on mounting the guns in our old forts, and assaulting Balidah under their fire. Makota’s timidity and vacillation were too apparent; but in consequence of Budrudin’s overawing presence he was obliged, from shame, to yield his assent. The order for the attack was fixed as follows: our party of ten (leaving six to serve the guns) were to be headed by myself. Budrudin, Makota, Subtu and all the lesser chiefs were to lead their followers, from sixty to eighty in number, by the same route, whilst fifty or more Chinese, under their captain, were to assault by another path to their left. Makota was to make the paths as near as possible to Balidah, with his Dyaks, who were to extract the sudas and fill up the holes. The guns having been mounted, and their range ascertained the previous evening, we ascended to the fort about eight a.m., and at ten opened our fire and kept it up for an hour. The effect was severe. Every shot told upon their thin defences of wood, which fell in many places so as to leave storming breaches. Part of the roof was cut away and tumbled down, and the shower of grape and canister rattled so as to prevent their returning our fire, except from a stray rifle. At mid-day the forces reached the fort, and it was then discovered that Makota had neglected to make any road because it rained the night before! It was evident that the rebels had gained information of our intentions as they had erected a fringe of bamboo along their defences on the very spot we had agreed to mount. Makota fancied the want of a road would delay the attack; but I well knew that delay was equivalent to failure, and so it was at once agreed that we should advance without any path. The poor man’s cunning and resources were now nearly at an end. He could not refuse to accompany us, but his courage could not be brought to the point, and pale and embarrassed he retired. Everything was ready—Budrudin, the Capitan China and myself, at the head of our men—when he once more appeared, and raised a subtle point of etiquette, which answered his purpose. He represented to Budrudin that the Malays were unanimously of opinion that the rajah’s brother could not expose himself in an assault; that the dread of the rajah’s indignation far exceeded their dread of death; and in case any accident happened to him, his brother’s fury would fall on them. Budrudin was angry, I was angry too, and the doctor most angry of all; but anger was unavailing. It was clear they did not intend to do anything in earnest; and after much discussion, in which Budrudin insisted if I went he should likewise go, and the Malays insisted that if he went they would not go, it was resolved that we should serve the guns, whilst Abong Mia and the Chinese, not under the captain, should proceed to the assault. But its fate was sealed, and Makota had gained his object; for neither he nor Subtu thought of exposing themselves to a single shot. Our artillery opened and was beautifully served. The hostile forces attempted to advance, but our fire completely subdued them, as only three rifles answered us, by one of which a seaman was wounded in the hand, but not seriously. Two-thirds of the way the storming party proceeded without the hostile army being aware of their advance, and they might have reached the very foot of the hill without being discovered, had not Abong Mia, from excess of piety and rashness, began most loudly to say his prayers. The three rifles began then to play on them. One Chinaman was killed, the whole halted, the prayers were more vehement than ever, and after squatting under cover of the jungle for some time they all returned. It was only what I expected, but I was greatly annoyed by their cowardice and treachery—treachery to their own cause. One lesson, however, I learnt, and that was, that had I assaulted with our small party, we should assuredly have been victimised. The very evening of the failure the rajah came up the river. I would not see him, and only heard that the chiefs got severely reprimanded; but the effects of reprimand are lost where cowardice is stronger than shame. Inactivity followed, two or three useless forts were built, and Budrudin, much to my regret and to the detriment of the cause, was recalled.

‘Amongst the straggling arrivals I may mention Pangeran Dallam, with a number of men, consisting of the Orang Bintulu, Meri, Muka and Kayan Dyaks from the interior. Our house, or, as it originally stood, our shed, deserves a brief record. It was about twenty feet long, with a loose floor of reeds and an attap or palm-leaf roof. It served us for some time, but the attempts at theft obliged us to fence it in and divide it into apartments—one at the end served for Middleton, Williamson and myself. Adjoining it was the storeroom and hospital, and the other extreme belonged to the seamen. Our improvements kept pace with our necessities. Theft induced us to shut in our house at the sides, and the unevenness of the reeds suggested the advantage of laying a floor of the bark of trees over them, which, with mats over all, rendered our domicile far from uncomfortable. Our forts gradually extended to the back of the enemy’s town, on a ridge of swelling ground, whilst they kept pace with us on the same side of the river on the low ground. The inactivity of our troops had long become a by-word amongst us. It was, indeed, truly vexatious, but it was in vain to urge them on, in vain to offer assistance, in vain to propose a joint attack, or even to seek support at their hands; promises were to be had in plenty, but performances never.

‘At length our leaders resolved on building a fort at Sekundis, thus outflanking the enemy and gaining the command of the upper course of the river. The post was certainly an important one, and in consequence they set about it with the happy indifference which characterises their proceedings. Pangeran Illudin (the most active amongst them) had the building of the fort, assisted by the Orang Kaya Tumangong of Lundu. Makota, Subtu and others were at the next fort, and by chance I was there likewise; for it seemed to be little apprehended that any interruption would take place, as the Chinese and the greater part of the Malays had been left in the boats. When the fort commenced, however, the enemy crossed the river and divided into two bodies, the one keeping in check the party at Pangeran Gapoor’s fort, whilst the other made an attack on the works. The ground was not unfavourable for their purpose, for Pangeran Gapoor’s fort was separated from Sekundis by a belt of thick wood which reached down to the river’s edge. Sekundis itself, however, stood on clear ground, as did Gapoor’s fort. I was with Makota at the latter when the enemy approached through the jungle. The two parties were within easy speaking distance, challenging and threatening each other, but the thickness of the jungle prevented our seeing or penetrating to them. When this body had advanced, the real attack commenced on Sekundis with a fire of musketry, and I was about to proceed to the scene, but was detained by Makota, who assured me there were plenty of men, and that it was nothing at all. As the musketry became thicker, I had my doubts when a Dyak came running through the jungle, and with gestures of impatience and anxiety begged me to assist the party attacked. He had been sent by my old friend the Tumangong of Lundu, to say they could not hold the post unless supported. In spite of Makota’s remonstrances, I struck into the jungle, winded through the narrow path, and, after crossing an ugly stream, emerged on the clear ground. The sight was a pretty one. To the right was the unfinished stockade, defended by the Tumangong; to the left, at the edge of the forest, about twelve or fifteen of our party, commanded by Illudin, whilst the enemy were stretched along between the points, and kept up a sharp-shooting from the hollow ground on the bank of the river. They fired and loaded and fired, and had gradually advanced on the stockade, as the ammunition of our party failed; and as we emerged from the jungle, they were within twenty or five-and-twenty yards of the defence. A glance immediately showed me the advantage of our position, and I charged with my Englishmen across the padi field, and the instant we appeared on the ridge above the river, in the hollows of which the rebels were seeking protection, their rout was complete. They scampered off in every direction, whilst the Dyaks and Malays pushed them into the river. Our victory was decisive and bloodless; the scene was changed in an instant, and the defeated foe lost arms and ammunition either on the field of battle or in the river, and our exulting conquerors set no bounds to their triumph.

‘I cannot omit to mention the name of Si Tundu, a Lanun, the only native who charged with us. His appearance and dress were most striking, the latter being entirely of red, bound round the waist, arms, forehead, etc., with gold ornaments, and in his hand his formidable Bajuk sword. He danced, or rather galloped, across the field close to me, and, mixing with the enemy, was about to despatch a haji, or priest, who was prostrate before him, when one of our people interposed, and saved him by stating that he was a companion of our own. The Lundu Dyaks were very thankful for our support, our praises were loudly sung, and the stockade was concluded. After the rout, Makota, Subtu and Abong Mia arrived on the field; the last, with forty followers, had ventured half way before the firing ceased, but the detachment, under a paltry subterfuge, halted so as not to be in time. The enemy might have had fifty men at the attack. The defending party consisted of about the same number, but the Dyaks had very few muskets. I had a dozen Englishmen, Subu, one of our Singapore boatmen, and Si Tundu. Sekundis was a great point gained, as it hindered the enemy from ascending the river and seeking supplies.

‘Makota, Subtu and the whole tribe arrived as soon as their safety from danger allowed, and none were louder in their own praise, but, nevertheless, their countenances evinced some sense of shame, which they endeavoured to disguise by the use of their tongues. The Chinese came really to afford assistance, but too late. We remained until the stockade of Sekundis was finished, while the enemy kept up a wasteful fire from the opposite side of the river, which did no harm.

‘The next great object was to follow up the advantage by crossing the stream, but day after day some fresh excuse brought on fresh delay, and Makota built a new fort and made a new road within a hundred yards of our old position. I cannot detail further our proceedings for many days, which consisted, on my part, in efforts to get something done, and on the others, a close adherence to the old system of promising everything and doing nothing. The Chinese, like the Malays, refused to act; but on their part it was not fear, but disinclination. By degrees, however, the preparations for the new fort were complete, and I had gradually gained over a party of the natives to my views; and, indeed, amongst the Malays, the bravest of them had joined themselves to us, and what was better, we had Datu Pangerang and thirteen Illanuns, and the Capitan China allowed me to take his men whenever I wanted them. My weight and consequence was increased, and I rarely moved now without a long train of followers. The next step, whilst crossing the river was uncertain, was to take my guns up to Gapoor’s fort, which was about six or seven hundred yards from the town, and half the distance from a rebel fort on the river’s bank.