CHAPTER V

RENTAP

With this chapter commences the history of the life of the present Rajah, in itself an epitome of the history of the raj, who in 1852, at the age of twenty-three, obtained two years' leave of absence to try his fortunes in Borneo at the invitation of his uncle the Rajah. He arrived at Kuching on July 21, 1852, at the commencement of a new era in the history of Sarawak. Hitherto the raj extended only as far as the Samarahan river, and within this little state order had been established and peace reigned. Without, it had been freed from its enemies, the result being an increasing trade which brought prosperity. But the Rajah could not leave incomplete the work that he had undertaken and begun, and these benefits had to be more fully extended to the neighbouring districts, which were shortly to be added to the raj. This could be done only by first reducing to order the turbulent and restless Sea-Dayaks and Malays who inhabited these districts. Sarawak, too, had now been left to fight its own battles alone, and to surmount the additional troubles that had been thrown across its path by the blind and weak policy of the British Government that should have been its protector. In the severe trials that followed, and which had to be faced unhelped, the Rajah found that assistance which he so much needed in the able and devoted support of his nephews, the Tuan Besar, and, more notably, the Tuan Muda, for so the present Rajah was entitled by the datus on his arrival.[187] On the expiration of his leave the Tuan Muda finally quitted the Navy, and Sarawak became the scene of his life-work; he was to become the Rajah's right-hand man, and, a few years later, his trusted deputy.

Charles Anthoni Johnson, the Tuan Muda, was the second son of the Rev. Francis Charles Johnson, and was born on June 3, 1829, at Berrow Vicarage, near Burnham, Somersetshire. Educated in Crewkerne Grammar School for a few years only, he was withdrawn at the age of a little over twelve, and entered the Navy on January 18, 1842, as a volunteer of the first class, under his uncle, Commander Willes Johnson of the sloop _Wolverine_. He served on this ship until June, 1844, gaining two steps as midshipman in that year, when he was transferred to the _Dido_, Captain the Hon. Henry Keppel. He rejoined the _Wolverine_, serving under Commander John Dalrymple Hay,[188] until his transfer to the _Mæander_, Captain the Hon. H. Keppel, in November, 1847, as sub-lieutenant. He joined the _St. Vincent_ in 1848, and in June the next year was promoted to be senior mate of the _Terrible_. He became lieutenant in 1852. He served mostly on the China station; and the only active service he saw was with Keppel's expedition and Sir Thomas Cochrane's squadron in Borneo waters, as we have already recorded.

The Tuan Muda was appointed to Lundu in January, 1853, but he had not been there long before news arrived of the death of Mr. Lee, the Resident at Lingga. The circumstances were these: Ever since the severe lesson taught the Saribas and Sekrangs in 1849, the piratical tribes had been divided into two parties: one that was content to submit to the Government of Sarawak, and abandon its former lawless practices, and the other, consisting of the irreconcilables, the wild and fiery bloods, who loved slaughter and rapine above everything, and who could not be prevailed upon to beat their spears into ploughshares. At their head stood a peculiarly daring and turbulent Dayak chief called Rentap; and these had retreated farther up the country to the head-waters of the Saribas. There Rentap had established a strong stockade on Sadok, a mountain ridge, up the Sungei (River) Lang, which was regarded as an impregnable fastness, for access could not be obtained to it by boat, on account of the rapids, and the country that would have to be traversed by an expedition was covered with dense jungles, and broken up by rugged limestone chains of hills.

The Sekrang pirates could no longer shoot down to the sea in their war prahus, for the forts of Sekrang and Lingga commanded the river, consequently they exerted their mischievous energies in attacking the peaceful Dayaks in their districts, and they were especially irate against those of their own tribe who had submitted to the white man's rule.

Sekrang station under the able management of Mr. Brereton had made great advances, and around the fort a Malay town had sprung up, and there Chinese traders had also established themselves. Mr. Brereton was ably supported by two of the best and most capable Malay chiefs, Pangiran Matali,[189] a Bruni of rank, and Abang Aing,[190] a Matu Melanau, who had long been settled in the Batang Lupar with his father the Laksamana Menudin, and who had the good fortune to have for a helpmate an upright and determined woman, Dayang Kota; she was strong in council, and so trustworthy that when Mr. Brereton and the chiefs were away she was often left in charge of the fort.

The fort at Lingga had been built in 1852 to protect that river against marauding bands of Saribas, and had been placed in charge of Mr. Alan Lee.

Brereton and Lee were both men of independent means, who had joined the Rajah to assist him in his great work, and who never drew a penny from the Sarawak Government. The former was hot and impetuous; both were men of noble and generous natures.

The position of Mr. Lee at Lingga was fairly safe. He had been for a short time coadjutor with Brereton at Sekrang; at Lingga he had plenty of Malays, and only friendly Dayaks, the Balaus, about him. But Mr. Brereton was in a more dangerous position, a single Englishman among many thousand natives but partially reclaimed in hardly five years, and all passionately attached to their ancestral custom of head-hunting. It is true he had about him a number of Malays, and on an emergency might call in the assistance of those Dayaks of the Sekrang tribe who professed allegiance, but many of these were waverers, and on a few only could any reliance be placed.

Early in 1853, reports reached Brereton that Rentap, at the head of a war party, was on his way down the river to attack his fort, and force an opening to the sea, so that again he might pursue his piratical expeditions along the coast; and Brereton sent a message to Lee at Lingga to come to his assistance.

The request was at once complied with, and, thinking the case urgent, Lee hurried up the river with a scratch party, insufficiently armed; but he left orders that a large force was to follow with all possible speed.

On reaching Sekrang, Lee learned that the force under Rentap was approaching, and he strongly urged Brereton to stand solely on the defensive, and not to attack the enemy till his auxiliaries had arrived. Brereton, however, had built a small stockade a few miles above Sekrang fort, and to this he insisted on going, and was accompanied by Lee. On the morning after reaching it, a few boats of the Sekrang pirates were seen descending the river and approaching the stockade. A gun was fired to signal them to desist, but as this was disregarded, a charge of grape was poured into them, throwing them apparently into confusion. Unfortunately, the Malays in the fort were not to be restrained, and Brereton was for at once dashing forth to attack the enemy in the open on the river. Lee saw the injudiciousness of such a proceeding. He was convinced that the two prahus had been sent forward tentatively, and that the main body of the enemy was concealed behind the point of land farther up. He expostulated with Brereton, who taunted him with a lack of courage, and then left the fort with his Malays, and in their boats they ran in upon the main fleet that was lurking in an upper reach, and which now swung down, assisted by the ebb-tide, on Brereton's light prahus.

Lee, nettled at the taunt, and seeing the peril in which his friend and fellow-officer had so inconsiderately placed himself, at once left the fort and hastened to his assistance.

The small boats in which were the Malay garrison were being swamped by the heavy bangkongs or war prahus of the Sekrangs filled with armed men. Brereton's boat upset, and with difficulty he reached the bank. Lee refused to retreat, and calling out, "Save yourselves, I must stand," dashed on. His boat was boarded by the enemy; he fought with desperation, but was overpowered and fell into the water with his head nearly severed from his shoulders. Meanwhile the force of the current had carried the fleet under the guns of the stockade, and these opened fire upon it, and compelled Rentap reluctantly to withdraw and abandon his undertaking.[191] He was followed up and attacked by the Sekrang Dayak chief Gasing, who, acting on his own initiative, burnt twenty villages belonging to Rentap's followers.

When the news of this disaster reached Kuching, the Tuan Muda was recalled from Lundu and ordered to replace Lee at Lingga, and he arrived there in June, 1853. A stronger fort was now built there, and the Malays living at Banting were ordered to move down. He was succeeded at Lundu by Mr. Charles Grant.[192]

Lingga, which is just at the mouth of the river of that name that flows into the Batang Lupar about sixteen miles above its mouth, is seated on a mud bank; the land for miles around is a dismal swamp, and is the most dreary station in the State. It is, however, a healthy place, and another redeeming point is the fine expanse of water which forms the estuary of the Bantag Lupar, stretching from Lingga, where it is three miles broad, straight to the mouth.

The Dayak population of the Lingga river was then about 5000, all Balaus, whom the Tuan Muda found to be "braver than most Dayaks, and true-hearted." From the first, they and the Seboyaus, a relative tribe, residing some at Seboyau, below Lingga, but most at Lundu, had sided with the Rajah against their direst foes, the Saribas; and these pages record many great services rendered by them. Besides these Dayaks there was a considerable number of Malays, and the latter increased, for Lingga became to them a place of refuge.

Indra Lila[193] had been the chief here since his forced departure from the Rejang (see footnote, p. 16). He had died a few months before, and had been succeeded by his brother, Lila Pelawan,[193] who died a centenarian in 1897. There was another brother, Lila Wangsa,[193] who had joined the piratical Saribas Malays. Lila Pelawan was only the nominal chief of the river, for it was really ruled by two despotic old Malay ladies of rank, Dang Isa and Dang Ajar. These sisters claimed all the land as their inheritance, and all the dwellers thereon as their slaves. Though they were cruel and tyrannical in their methods, these masterful old ladies had the redeeming point of being brave, and, attired in men's clothing, with sword and spear, had often led the men in resisting the attacks of the Saribas. Dang Ajar was the most troublesome. It was she with whom the Kayan chief, Akam Nipa, had fallen in love, and a pity it was that his threat to abduct her was frustrated by the flight of the Malays from Ngmah. Though professing a strong regard for the Tuan Muda, whom they honoured by styling him their son, they feared and hated him, for they saw that he would soon deprive them of all power to do evil, and to prevent this they even attempted to resort to poison. This was the method by which they were commonly reputed to have removed Indra Lila out of their way, as they would certainly have done to his little son, so as to acquire his inheritance, had not the Tuan Muda taken him under his protection. This lad was Abang Abdul Gani, who became the Tuan Muda's constant follower for years, and who afterwards gained for himself the reputation of being one of the bravest and most honest of the Government Malay officials.

As they themselves foresaw, the power of these two old ladies was soon brought to an end, and they retired into seclusion to solace themselves with religion.

In August, 1853, the Rajah went to Bruni, where he found that his power and his popularity had not waned, though discarded by the British Government, and discredited by his own countrymen, and though he arrived in a small merchant ship instead of in one of her Majesty's men-of-war. He stayed some time in Bruni, and was warmly received by the new Sultan, Abdul Mumin, for Omar Ali had departed to answer for his sins, "and was fully and firmly reinstated as their friend and adviser." Those districts outside Sarawak, namely the Sadong, Batang Lupar, Saribas, and Kalaka rivers and their tributaries, with a coast-line of some seventy-five miles, in area about three times the size of the raj, were now incorporated with it by a cession granted by the Sultan, the Rajah agreeing to pay the Sultan half of any surplus revenues that might accrue. We may note here for convenience that this was altered afterwards in 1861, when the territories as far as Kedurong point were ceded, thereby giving the State a further coast-line of 180 miles, and the rivers Rejang, Oya, Muka, Tatau, and Bintulu. For this additional cession and that of 1853 a fixed yearly sum was to be paid to the Sultan as compensation for loss of revenue; and these cessions, having been made subsequent to the treaty of 1847, contain a clause to the effect that none of the districts ceded by them may be transferred by the Rajah or his successors to any other government, company or persons without the sanction of the British Government, but the Sultan's sanction is not required. In the event of the cession money not being paid for three consecutive years, the districts ceded would revert to the Sultan; otherwise the sovereign and territorial rights over these districts are absolutely invested in the Rajahs of Sarawak, the Sultan having reserved no rights or power whatever over them. The cessions subsequently obtained by the present Rajah, which will be noted in their proper places, were granted on the same terms.

In December, the Rajah arrived at Lingga on his way to Sekrang and farther up the river, with the object of opening up communication with the turbulent members of the Dayak tribes in the interior, under Rentap and Bulan. These chiefs were men of very different character, and headed native bodies of like diversity.

Rentap was an active, crafty, and determined man, rootedly opposed to the interference of Europeans and the putting down of piracy and head-hunting. On the other hand, Bulan was the figure-head of a party that hesitated, uncertain which direction affairs would take, and watching to see which way the cat jumped. Bulan and his faction would not engage in active hostility against the Rajah's government, unless they saw that the tide of affairs was setting strong against it. But also they would not profess friendship, or lend help against the turbulent party.

The Tuan Muda attended the Rajah to Sekrang, and several meetings were contrived with the leaders of the two factions, but with no satisfactory results. In April, 1854, owing to the representations of Mr. Brereton, an expedition was organised against a chief called Apai[194] Dendang at Dandi, on the backbone or watershed between the Saribas and the Sekrang river, a hotbed of mischief, whence several incursions had been made into the pacified country, with the usual results of rapine and murder.

The Tuan Muda brought up a contingent from Lingga, and this, united with a force from Kuching, proceeded up the Sekrang, passing troublesome and dangerous rapids, till the point Lipat was reached, where the boats had to be left. The backbone of hills was at some considerable distance, and to reach it much thorny jungle had to be traversed. After a day's march inland it was arranged that the Europeans and the Sarawak Malay contingent should remain behind, and that a fighting division of Dayaks should be sent forward under their chiefs to attack Dandi, which consisted of one long Dayak house. The plan adopted was not the most judicious, and the result was disappointing. We will describe what followed in the Tuan Muda's own words.

Late in the afternoon of the third day, when we anxiously awaited the return of the advanced division, our outposts first of all descried two or three small parties of Dayaks evidently of our force, wending their way slowly over hill and dale. On their nearer approach, we plainly saw wounded men carried by them. Whispers spread—gradually and quietly at first, but they soon became more distinct—that our party had failed. In the evening the chiefs arrived and came forward to report progress, looking haggard, thin, and exhausted. The story was as follows—they had walked at a fast pace the whole of the first day over the steepest hills, sometimes without any path, and the guides at a nonplus for the proper direction; from morning till night they scarcely halted, under a scorching sun; and parched with thirst without any hope of water. At night, by moonlight, they pushed on again, until they nearly fell from exhaustion, when they slept in any position with their arms on. About 3 A.M. they again advanced, and, at the opening of dawn, the most active Dayaks, reaching the enemy's house, advanced upon it without order, and as the leaders were mounting the ladder, they were struck off one after another by hundreds of men inside, dressed in fighting costumes, and headed by the whole of the Saribas tribe, men heretofore on every occasion on land, victorious. Our poor leaders had to retire to guard their wounded and dying, while the enemy were yelling, cheering, and beating gongs; and even their women, dressed in their best clothes, were clapping their hands, and urging their sweethearts to the encounter.

As the sun rose, some of the strongest of the Malay force came up within shot, and took up quarters behind trees and opened fire upon the house. This stopped the cheering within, but in no way daunted the enemy. About an hour after, our elderly chiefs came up, viewed the house of the enemy, sat down on the hillside in a sheltered position, and were so exhausted that children might have hacked their heads off. They stopped all advance of their party, and while the oldest chiefs were suffering severely from fatigue, a palaver was opened, the result being that some of the enemy came down, mixed with our people, then partook of sirih and betel-nut in a friendly manner, and promised to show our party the nearest way back, and provide them with provisions for their journey. On their part they engaged to be answerable for the payment of a "death fine" for the men they had killed some months previously.

News that a large expedition had been organised against Dandi had reached Apai Dendang before the departure of the force from Sekrang, and he had summoned to his assistance all the bravest men of the Saribas tribe, and the principal leaders of every head-hunting expedition for some time past; nevertheless he was unwilling to drive matters to an extremity, having a wholesome dread of the white men. This rendered him ready to treat and buy off the expedition with a promise of indemnity for murders recently committed.

A fatal want of discretion had been shown in the whole affair, no trustworthy guides had been engaged, no inquiry made as to whether the Saribas were coming up to the succour of Apai Dendang, no English leaders were sent forward with the rabble of assailants, and that rabble had attacked in straggling detachments, when exhausted with hard marching and with thirst.

We returned home with feelings that can be better imagined than described. The Dayaks said that the omens had been bad from the outset; the Malays said if they had only been there, the result would have been different; and the Europeans said—nothing.

In August, 1854, the Rajah arrived at Lingga with a large force which had been collected at Kuching, and proceeded to Sekrang, taking with him the Tuan Muda; The Tuan Besar, together with other European officers, who had come with the Rajah, also lent their aid. The object was to attack Rentap in his fastness in Sungei Lang. The whole force numbered 7000 Malays and Dayaks. To prevent the Saribas from sending their fighting men to the assistance of Rentap, the Datu Temanggong was despatched with a flotilla up that river to menace their villages and to hold the Saribas warriors in check. Mr. Steele[195] was to lead another party up the Kanowit to threaten the Dayaks of that river and its branches the Kajulau and Entabai, with a rear attack should they cross over to the Saribas. Mr. Steele had been thrice attacked at Kanowit fort, but now he could muster fifteen hundred men and take the offensive, and, though possibly he would have to do no fighting, his force would deter the Kajulaus from sending aid to Rentap. The expedition was thoroughly well thought out.

The Rajah, with the main body, leaving the Sekrang fort, ascended the river for about thirty miles to a place called Entaban. The heavy prahus were brought thus far with great difficulty, owing to the rapids, and beyond that point it was impossible to proceed in them. Accordingly a stockade was erected, and the Tuan Besar was placed in command of the expedition by land to Sungei Lang, with his brother, the Tuan Muda, Mr. Crookshank, Mr. Brereton, and four other English officers to assist. The Rajah's health would not admit of his undertaking the arduous march. He remained behind with a strong force to protect the flotilla.

Although the heavy war boats could ascend no farther, it was possible for part of the force to continue the ascent of the river in light boats, and this was done, the Europeans and Malays marching.

To continue the narrative from the Tuan Muda's description:—

We had Dayak guides, and could not have proceeded without them. Our land force consisted mostly of Malays, and numbered about 500 men— the Sekrang Dayaks were in their boats. About 4 P.M. we halted on the brink of the river and prepared to spend the night with a stockade around. This was in the enemy's country, although there were many people living near who were neither the one thing nor the other. The following morning we proceeded again in the same order, but before mid-day many of our party were quite exhausted, and there was really no road to follow but the muddy banks of the river, so we halted, and after our mid-day meal it was decided that we were all to crowd in with the floating force. And thus we pushed on, but in a most comfortless condition with regard to space. We spent the night at Tabbat, and fortified ourselves here also. My subsequent experience of the localities has proved that we should never have reached our destination on foot, keeping company with the boats. On the fourth day we spied the enemy's position, situated on a hill cleared of all old jungle and showing recent preparations of defence around their dwellings. Our heavy armament consisted of 4- and 3-pounder guns and rocket tubes.

The enemy showed no opposition outside, and after marching about four miles, we arrived at a hill in their vicinity. It was a fiery hot morning without a cloud, and the hills, though low, were very precipitous. The Europeans kept near the guns, to assist in their progress up the steeps, and when we were mounting the last rising ground on which the enemy was fortified, we found some of the leaders of our force had foolishly advanced too near, and a few had been killed and wounded, and were now being carried to the rear. The enemy had two long houses on the ridge of a hill, surrounded by steep ground excepting at the end. Here high stakes were driven into the earth, and around all a firm and thick stockade. The 4-pounder gun was mounted after considerable delay, and, when the rocket tube was in place, we opened fire on one end, while the 3-pounder played away on the other. The enemy answered our fire pretty briskly with their lelahs.[196] We could see the men rushing to and fro covered with their shields, also parties dancing to the music of the gongs. Some of their voices we heard distinctly, saying they would never succumb to the tight-breeched men (white men) or to any other strangers. Mr. Crookshank (at considerable risk) took charge of the rockets, which were of ancient make, and a few that were fired entered the fort and did great execution, but the majority whizzed round and round and sometimes lodged in the ground among our own party; we were all more afraid of these missiles than anything the enemy could produce. Early in the afternoon there was a commotion among the enemy, and we could discern women and children leaving on the opposite side of the hill, but the men stood fast and kept their posts.

Our old Penglima[197] was biding his time, for he yet knew that he might lead, but others would not follow. He worked steadily and quietly, amid many jeers from some of our own native party, who asked why the warrior did not make an advance: his reply between his teeth was—"Your words are more than your deeds." As the sun drew near to the horizon, the Penglima moved up to the enemy's stockade, silently opened the palisade, and, after a moment's peep, jumped in, followed by others, who gave a loud cheer and drew their swords. The enemy, finding a lodgment had been made inside, immediately took to their heels and fled down the hill. We followed in close to the leaders; the entrance was so narrow that many received contusions when passing through. About fifty or sixty of the enemy were tearing away over the open ground, covering their bodies with their shields.

These were followed by all the defenders of the stockade, who rolled down the side of the hill, a living wave, bearing away with them their chief Rentap, who had been wounded. The stockade was taken, and within its defences the victors passed the night, whilst the enemy fled precipitately to a second and still stronger fastness on the summit of the mountain Sadok, which loomed in the distance. One of the most curious and significant features of the conflict was that, whilst it was in progress, the hills and every commanding position around were crowded with Dayaks, the adherents of Bulan, as well as others, who watched it with lively interest, taking no part on one side or the other, but waiting to see to which side the scale would incline. Had the attacking force met with discomfiture, these men would have fallen on it and harassed the party as it retreated.

If, after the defeat of Rentap and the capture of the stockade in the Lang, they did not tender allegiance to the Government, it was because the expedition retired immediately after having achieved its first success, and, therefore, it gave the waverers no permanent assurance of protection against Rentap's resentment.

To have crushed Rentap, it would have been necessary to have pursued him to his second stronghold at Sadok, but this was not done. Captain Brooke in command doubtless saw the expediency of following up a routed foe, but Dayak warriors are wont to rest content with a single victory, and, that gained, to become uncontrollably impatient to return home; besides, the force was in too disturbed a state to undertake any organised attack; accordingly, after making a circuit of devastation, it returned.

The result was that Rentap continued to give trouble for seven years.

Brereton died of dysentery, brought on by exposure, shortly after this expedition, and the Tuan Muda was placed in charge of the Batang Lupar in October, 1854. The district was in a very disturbed state, and to establish order by putting an end to intertribal feuds and promiscuous head-hunting required an unceasing watch being kept on all, and necessitated many punitive expeditions being made. The Tuan Muda had but a handful of fortmen, for there was no money to spend; not more than £30 per mensem being allowed even so late as 1860 for the upkeep of the district, and it must have been less then. Little support could be expected from the capital. On the Kajulau expedition the Tuan Muda could muster no more than 100 antiquated muskets and a few rifles, which included twelve flint and six percussion muskets, all that could be spared from Kuching. There was much to be done, but there was deficiency of means to do the work. The Rajah's advice to him was: "to encourage the good, intimidate the bad, and confirm the wavering." The difficulties were so many, and the means at hand so limited, that the position would have been hopeless except to a man of great tact, patience, daring, and untiring activity, able to bear all the responsibility, all the anxiety, and all the work upon his own shoulders. It must be borne in mind that Kuching was some 125 miles away, that those were the days when there were no steamers, and that during the north-east monsoon navigation was dangerous to boats. How the Tuan Muda succeeded will be told in this record of his career; here it will be sufficient to say, quoting the late Rajah, "that he was the right man in the right place, and that we are all children in Dayak management compared to him."

In 1856, the Tuan Muda writes (in _Ten Years in Sarawak_):—

We are almost daily having alarms in one place or another; sometimes on water and sometimes on land. And upon one side of the whole length of the river, the inhabitants dare not farm or live, fearing attacks from the interior of Sekrang and Saribas. Small parties make their foraging excursions and run away with a head here and there, and are far distant before we can follow them up.

Intertribal feuds, which had been more or less dropped in the common cause of piracy—and the plethora of heads it afforded—had now broken out again, and were growing in intensity. Besides these troubles in the Batang Lupar and Saribas, the Dayaks of the Rejang living on the Serikei and Kajulau rivers were giving considerable trouble. These Dayaks had moved over from the Sekrang and Saribas and were hand-in-glove with Rentap's rebels. They were open and declared enemies of the Government. The Kajulau was considered to be the centre of the enemy's country, and also to be inaccessible to attack. Confident in their impunity, they were becoming a terror to the peaceable inhabitants of the Rejang delta, so the Tuan Muda determined to attack them, and organised an expedition— the first to act independently of Kuching assistance, except for the loan of the dozen old muskets above mentioned.

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.

On the afternoon of the Tuan Muda's return from Kuching, after an arduous time driving the Chinese rebels over the border, he received information that the notorious Saji was out with a head-hunting party along the coast. Prompt action was necessary, and the Tuan Muda by sunset had started in his war-boat, leaving Abang Aing and the Malays to follow. Whilst waiting inside the mouth of the Ludam, a little stream half-way between the mouths of the Batang Lupar and Saribas, for his Malay and Dayak contingents, a boat dashed past towards the Saribas. This the Tuan Muda subsequently learnt was Saji, who off Lingga had fallen in with a small boat containing a man, his wife, and their daughter. Feigning friendliness Saji approached, and when near enough attacked the little party. The man escaped by taking to the water, his wife was cut down and her head taken, and the girl was captured. When passing the Ludam Saji had noticed the Tuan Muda's boat-flag over the bank, the tide being high, and he sat with his drawn sword across the girl's throat prepared to take her life immediately if she attempted to call out, or should any notice be taken of them. On being joined by the Malays and the Balau Dayaks the coast was patrolled, and the Saribas was searched for some way up, but the head-hunters had retired.

Sadok, Rentap's stronghold, was regarded by the Dayaks as impregnable. Since the destruction of the stockaded village at Sungei Lang, he had strengthened his position there. In legend and song the Dayaks represented this place as a mountain so inaccessible, and so protected by magic, that no enemy would ever dare to assail it. Rentap had gathered about him all the disaffected Sekrang Dayaks and some of the Saribas of the interior, who offered him aid so long as he occupied this eyrie, which stood as an unapproachable nucleus and basis far removed from danger, and to which they might all retire in case of need from the rule of the white man, that thwarted their head-hunting and marauding propensities. Rentap was entitled the Inland Rajah, and was the centre of all opposition to the rule of the Rajah of Sarawak. His fortification was near 5000 feet above the sea, with precipitous approaches on almost every side.

The Tuan Muda had obtained permission to undertake another expedition against this stronghold. His intention was to pass over the mountain, lay waste the country at the head of the Saribas, and, after so cutting off Rentap's supplies and reinforcements, to attempt the chief's position on his return.

In the Saribas, which was still a hornet's nest, affairs were coming to a head. The Dayaks were about to retire into the interior with the Datu Patinggi of Saribas, who, together with the Laksamana, was encouraging the Dayaks to continue in their evil courses. But for the Malays, and even amongst them there were many inclined to a life of peace, though these were in a minority, the Dayaks of the lower Saribas would have submitted to the Government, and amongst the latter the Rajah could now count many adherents; but the power of the evilly disposed Malay chiefs, headed by the Patinggi, and of the Dayak chiefs, headed by Rentap, was dominant in the Saribas. To check them the Rajah took a large force to that river, and went at the time that the Tuan Muda was starting on his expedition, so as to disguise the object of the latter's preparations, by leading the people to suppose that his intention was to support the Rajah; and to be at hand to attack the Saribas Dayaks in rear should they muster in force to assist Rentap. The Tuan Besar at the same time went to the Rejang, to hold the Dayaks of that river in check.

The Tuan Muda took no Europeans with him, fearing that the fatigue of the difficult overland march might knock them up, and cause them to become encumbrances; his force consisted of 3500 Dayaks, and 500 Malays, all willing volunteers, though many conceived the task to be beyond their powers; but where he went they were ready to follow, confident that under his direction they would be well led.

The expedition started on June 2, 1857, a little over three months after the Chinese insurrection, and left Sekrang in drizzling rain; throughout it encountered miserable weather, which damped the ardour of the force. The Malays especially cannot endure wet, a few days' exposure brings on fever and ague, and the cold, to which the Dayaks would be exposed on the mountain, was likely to so numb them as to render them useless.

Old Sandom was once more the guide. He had his personal wrong to avenge, as we have already stated. "Iron Anchor" and Pangiran Matali were again the leaders.

On June 5, the boats were drawn up at Sungei Antu, on a little island of rubble and brushwood, upon which a stockade was erected, and where the flotilla was to be left. Forty men, well armed, were deputed to take charge of the boats and baggage in this extemporised fort, whilst the rest moved overland in the direction of the mountain. On the 7th of June, a height, the bold ridge on which the enemy had established himself, came in sight, with a succession of hills intervening like a chopping sea turned to rock. It was resolved to push on that day to Rapu, the northern termination of the mountain, and there to establish a stockade from which parties might descend and devastate the country of the hostile Saribas, on which Rentap had to depend for supplies. But it was not found possible to do in one day what was determined. The mountain was indeed reached, but ascended only by some of the advance party of Dayaks, who could not be restrained, and who scrambled up the side to the summit of the hogs-back, to be driven back with great loss, not of lives only, but of confidence and courage as well. The bulk of the force was constrained to bivouac in rain and cold on the mountain flank.

The last hundred yards were almost perpendicular, and when mounting I had to pull myself up with one hand by the stunted trees; added to this, there was a declivity of thousands of feet on each side. In ascending this part not more than twenty men were with me. My best fort-man was wounded by a spear, and to assist him many of the others had left me. And now I must give credit to the Lingga people, for they were close at hand. I was within about five yards of the enemy, who were pitching spears from behind some wood on the brow of the hill, while we were underneath, and the spears went flying over my head and struck some of our party in the rear. Here I stood propped up against a tree, and poured thirty rounds from my smooth bore as fast as I could load. After this I tried to ascend, but the Linggas literally collared me. The enemy were quieted, so here we sat on the side of this hill, at an angle of 80°, the whole night. A few cross sticks were placed for me to sit on. One man held a shield at my back.

When morning broke the Tuan Muda and his followers succeeded in reaching the summit of the mountain, and could look along the brow to the opposite end, where stood the stronghold of the redoubtable Rentap, to which the enemy had retired. Several of the attacking force had been killed or wounded on the previous day, and over a hundred had rolled down the steep sides, and in so doing lost arms and ammunition.

The "Iron Anchor" maintained his position manfully, and well merited his name.

On that day, June 8, the force proceeded to stockade the position gained at the Rapu end of the mountain, confronting that occupied by the fortress of Rentap, which was not above four hundred yards off. This latter was a formidable stockade of iron-wood, impervious to rifle shots, with precipices to the right and left; and the stockade was commanded by the high-placed houses inside, from which volleys could be poured on an attacking army, that must advance in a narrow file along the backbone of rock leading to it. Indeed, to assail the fort from the northern extremity seemed doomed to failure, the few men leading could be picked off and would roll down the declivities on this side or that, or encumber the path by which those behind were pressing on, and expose them also to be shot down, for the enemy possessed muskets, cannon, and also a swivel captured when Lee was killed.

During the eight days they remained on the hill it rained incessantly, and the force suffered severely from cold, finding little shelter in their leaking huts, the earth floors of which were soon converted into pools of mire. On the 9th, thinking that the force in advancing towards Rentap's fortification, had left its rear unguarded, a body of the enemy that had marched to Rentap's assistance made an attack on the camp, but they soon found out their mistake, and were easily beaten off. The next day a division of Dayaks and Malays proceeded against Rentap's allies, whom they drove back, and whose houses they plundered and burnt. On the following days other parties were sent out to do the enemy as much harm as possible, and to deter them from joining Rentap's party in the stockade, or harassing the main assailing force. In the meantime the Tuan Muda had attempted to get his men to storm the fortress at night, promising to lead the way himself; but they would not face the risk, though later on they consented to attack the place in force. Three days were spent in constructing portable screens of laths and bamboos, under the cover of which parties could progress along the dangerous ridge and make an attempt to set fire to the stockade. At mid-day on the 15th the attack commenced.

I took up my position with a rifle, and watched for movements among the enemy, but the active work I left to Aing, who, drawn sword in hand, superintended with much activity. The sounds were deafening, and the fellows carried the wood and materials under the fire of Rentap's guns. At 4 P.M. my party had attained to within six or seven yards from the outer fort, and the scene was truly exciting. Our enemies evidently were not numerous. They threw stones from the inside which fell on the heads of our fellows, and used muskets, together with a swivel. At half-past five our leader, crouching under the moving stockade, called for fire, and the wood collected was in considerable quantities. At this juncture Aing fell, wounded by a musket shot. Then evening set in, and we were obliged to return to our quarters. The enemy yelled in triumph at our departure.

The wood collected had been so saturated with rain that it refused to kindle.

As I lay down to rest at night, I gave up all thought of gaining Rentap's fortress, but resolved to see what could be done elsewhere. When I rose the last morning, the enemy was yelling, and my first desire was to get about a hundred of the strongest young fellows together, command myself, and proceed to Atui, where there were three long houses of enemies, about six hours' walk distant. This I promised to do in three days, when I would return here and march back with the whole force. I could obtain no volunteers; some said they were sick, others out of provisions, and I was obliged to bow to circumstances, and at eight o'clock our party began to descend the mountain.

The retreat was conducted without serious molestation by the enemy, but, on reaching Antu, it was found that owing to the rain a freshet had come down, the river rising twelve feet, and had swept the stockade away and carried off over seventy of the boats. The discouragement was great, and the return down the river was not effected without some annoyance from the enemy, who hid in the jungle and fired on the party as, in overcrowded boats, it descended the Sekrang. None were thus killed, but some were drowned.

Thus ended the first expedition against Sadok. It had done something, though no serious damage, but it exalted the confidence of Rentap in the impregnability of his stronghold. Practically it had been a failure, and so it was felt to be among Malays and Dayaks generally. The unrest in the country became more accentuated, and the daring of the Saribas increased.

In April, 1858, the Tuan Muda says:

I had for many months been tormented by the affairs in Saribas, which had been for generations the hotbed of head-hunters and piracy in every shape. The people were becoming more audacious, and I found it had been to no purpose holding communication with even the Malays, who, a few days ago, refused to receive a letter, and declared they intended shortly to ascend the river and live with the Dayaks, and eat pork as they did. It was evident that a crisis was approaching which would require resolute action, or our _prestige_ would be injured in this quarter. This we could by no means afford to lose, as stoppage of all trade and communication on the coast would inevitably ensue.

A fleet of forty Saribas pirates' vessels was known to be ready to descend the river for a foray on the coast under Saji and another notorious Dayak chief, Lintong;[202] and was only detained till the boat of the former was ready at Paku, forty miles from the mouth. No time was to be lost to prevent this force from reaching the sea, and the Tuan Muda sent to Kuching for aid. Meantime he manned his big boat with sixty men, and a 3-pounder was placed in her bows. Thus equipped, he sped to Lingga, where he fortunately found the small gunboat schooner, the _Jolly Bachelor_, commanded by John Channon.[203] He now started up the Saribas river with a picked crew, and with numerous native boats following. The flotilla advanced as far as the mouth of the Padi river, on which was the village of Saji. Here they anchored, and a 6-pounder gun was pointed up the Saribas in case the enemy's forty war-boats should come down. Thence a party was detailed inland to attack Saji and his pestilent horde. This was done. The enemy was driven back with loss, and their houses destroyed. A more dreaded enemy than the Saribas now assailed the expedition, and that was cholera. In consternation the force began to break up and return home. The Tuan Muda resolved on constructing a fort and establishing a government on the river, and for that purpose retired down to Betong, a site he had selected as most suitable for a station.

Whilst engaged in collecting materials for the fort, the reinforcements from Kuching arrived under the charge of young Mr. J. B. Cruickshank,[204] but too late to be of any use. The cholera prevented any further action being taken; but the time was usefully spent in completing the fort. Leaving Cruickshank in charge, the Tuan Muda returned to Sekrang, and while there heard that the Saribas were again in motion for a coast raid, their destination being unknown.

This was led by the redoubtable Linggir again. The Tuan Muda at once sent orders for the Balau Dayaks to muster and intercept the force. The order was promptly carried out, and Linggir's bala was defeated with a loss of fourteen men, Linggir himself having another very narrow escape. But other parties were out, and the Tuan Muda himself set forth for the Saribas to intercept some of these marauders. Here he was joined by Mr. Watson[205] on his way to take charge of the new fort—a welcome addition for the reinforcement of that establishment.

The Tuan Muda warned the Malay villagers at the mouth of the Saribas, who were restless and desirous of encouraging the pirates, that they would be held responsible should any pirate boats be suffered to pass, and then returned to Sekrang to hasten preparations for an ascent of the Saribas river with a large body of men to chastise the turbulent natives who, led by Saji, had attacked Betong fort on July 14, 1858, and to press on and again try conclusions with Rentap.

After some delay the Kuching force started, and reached the rendezvous at the mouth of the Saribas river, but the Tuan Muda had been delayed, waiting for his Dayaks, and it proceeded to Betong. The leading division was a force from Kuching under the Tuan Besar, who commanded this expedition. It passed on several days before the Tuan Muda with the main force arrived at Betong fort, but was soon overtaken. The river was found to have been purposely obstructed. Large trees standing low on the banks had been felled so as to fall across, and, where narrow, block the stream. And this had been done for several miles. They were not formed into a boom, but left to lie where they fell. This is a favourite plan of the Dayaks for hindering the progress of an enemy up stream. Moreover, by cutting trees inclining to the river nearly through to the breaking point, and then sustaining them by means of rattans, they can in a moment sever these strings and let the trees fall on and crush the leading boats. Some thirty-five years ago, a Dutch gunboat whilst steaming up the Kapuas river was sunk in this manner, and her crew slaughtered.

Notwithstanding the obstructions, the flotilla advanced, and the enemy retired up stream. During five days' hard rowing, it progressed till it reached Pengirit, just below the Langit river, and here the vanguard fell in with the enemy under Saji. Saji gallantly attacked, and met the fate he so richly deserved. "Saji's name and acts had been in my ears for years past," wrote the Tuan Muda. "Many a bloody deed had been perpetrated, and he always had boasted that the White Men's powder and shot would take no effect on his body." So fell one of the most cruel and treacherous head-hunters of those days.

At the mouth of the Langit river a stockade was erected. Here on a clear night the moon was eclipsed. The Tuan Muda had seen by his almanack that this would occur, and had announced to the host that it would take place. If this had not been done a panic would have ensued, and the natives would have insisted on leaving; but as it was, they conceived that the phenomenon had been ordered by the white chief, to strike terror into the hearts of their foes, as also to encourage them; they were accordingly in good heart to advance.

They pushed on readily enough to Nanga Tiga,[206] the junction of three rivers, one flowing from Sadok, one from the watershed where rises the Kanowit river, and the third the main Saribas. Here the boats were to be left, and a stout stockade was erected. Thence preparations were made to advance up-country towards the Rejang. The Tuan Muda, with whom went Cruickshank, was in command and led the van. Messrs. Steele and Fox[207] were to take charge of the rear division. The whole party comprised 200 Malays and 2000 Dayaks.

From Nanga Tiga this party made for the head-waters of the Kajulau, to lay waste the territory of the troublesome natives there. It may seem, and it does seem at first sight, and to such as are not acquainted with native warfare, a barbarous process to burn villages and destroy the padi-fields with the crops on which the natives subsist. But, as already said, it is the only way in which these savages can be brought to submission. The women indeed suffer, but then they are the principal instigators of all the attacks on inoffensive tribes. They rather than the men were greedy after heads, and scoff at their husbands or sweethearts as milksops if they remain at home, and do not go forth to massacre and plunder. In fact, the destruction of their homes strikes the women to the heart, and turns them into advocates of peace. Among the Dayaks the women are a predominant power. The Dayaks are as woman-ridden and as henpecked as are Englishmen. Moreover, the destruction of native buildings is a more merciful proceeding than the slaying of a number of men in battle.

After the return of this ravaging party, which had done a circuit of thirty miles, a day was given to rest, and then the main body prepared to march to Sadok; and this time the expedition was furnished with a mortar that was expected to bring down Rentap's fortification. It was a six-pounder and only a few inches long, and was carried by Dayaks slung in a network of rattans.

Without opposition the host approached the fort of Sadok.

We met with no obstacles in mounting to the summit, which we reached at a little past ten in the morning. Rentap's party were within his wooden walls, and not a living being could be seen. Our force set to collect wood, and within an hour a small stockade was erected, in which our mortar was arranged; it was mounted within easy firing distance of the enemy's fortress, and, under the superintendence of Mr. John Channon, the firing commenced. The shells were thrown with great precision, often lodging under the roof of the enemy's fort; at other times bursting over it, and more than once, we heard them burst in the middle inside. Not a word was spoken by them, and some were under the impression that the place was deserted, when the tapping of the old gong would recommence as blithe as ever. Fifty rounds of shell were fired, besides hollow ones with full charges of powder, all of which appeared to take no more effect than if we were pitching pebbles at them. None of our party yet dared venture too near, but some of the most energetic pushed on to another stockade, within a few fathoms of the fort, when the enemy commenced firing, but the shot did not penetrate the wood. Our young Dayaks advanced, and two were immediately knocked over and others wounded. Other parties also advanced, and an active scene ensued; some reached the planking of the fortress, sheltering their heads with their shields, showers of stones were thrown from the inside, and spears were jabbed from a platform above. There was such a commotion for a few minutes, that I made certain our party were effecting an entrance, and, for the purpose of supporting them, I rushed out of our stockade, followed by a few, but had not passed on over more than four or five feet, before the enemy fired grape, wounding a fine young Dayak behind me, whom I had just time enough to save from falling down the precipice by seizing him by the hair, and passing him on to others behind the stockade. My brother and I advanced a few steps, but found our following was too inadequate for storming, and many were already retreating. Volleys of stones were flying round our heads, and as we retired again behind the stockade another charge of grape poured into the wood now at our backs. The chiefs had congregated to beg us to desist from making any further advance, and I must admit that we only risked our lives needlessly. The natives wisely observed, "We cannot pull these planks down with our hands, we cannot climb over them, and our arms make no impression on the enemy."

It was therefore resolved to abandon the attack. The retreat was begun at once, Rentap's followers shouting after the party the mocking words, 'Bring all your fire-guns from England, we are not afraid of you,' and discharging shot and spears and poisoned arrows. The enemy, yelling in triumph, threatened the assailants as they retired down the hill, but kept at a decent distance or hid behind cover for fear of the firearms.

Thus ended the second attempt on Sadok, again a failure. The mortar had not answered its purpose, nothing but a cannon could effect a breach in the solid palisading of the fortress. This venture was made in 1858, and no further attack on Sadok was attempted till 1861. There were other grave matters to engage the attention of the Rajah and his nephews, and although the upper Saribas were continuously troublesome, and had to be checked and reprisals made for their onslaughts on the peaceable Dayaks, for three years no attempt could be undertaken to dislodge Rentap.

But in 1861, it was resolved finally to assault and humble him. Meanwhile a good many of Rentap's followers had deserted him, and he was no longer popular. His violence and wilfulness had alienated many, and more had come to see that under the Sarawak Government the Dayaks who submitted were contented and flourishing. He had moreover offended their prejudices. He had descended from his eyrie, carried off a girl, discarded his old wife, and elevated the young one to be Ranee of Sadok. This was a grave violation of Dayak custom, and was resented accordingly.

On September 16, 1861, an expedition under the command of the Tuan Muda was ready to start up the Saribas river to dislodge Rentap. According to the received axiom, a third time is lucky, and on this occasion success was achieved.

The new expedition was to be better furnished than had been those which preceded it, and was to take with it rockets, a 12-pounder gun, and a 6-pounder; a working party of twenty Chinamen to make roads and throw up earthworks, a force of Sidi boys or negroes, daring fellows, ready to storm the stockade, and numerous Malays and Dayaks. On October 20, the expedition reached Nanga Tiga, the old position in 1858, and there once more the boats were left, a stockade erected, and the 6-pounder mounted in it. The land party then advanced over the same ground as before, the guides leading the way, followed by the Chinese and the Sidi boys; the Europeans being placed in the centre. Rain came down in torrents, as on the former occasion, and a difficulty ensued in getting the Chinamen to keep the powder dry.

On the 25th, the foot of Sadok was reached, whereupon two chiefs, the brothers Loyoh and Nanang, came in and made their submission, but this was accepted only after the payment of a fine of forty rusa jars worth £400, which were to be retained for three years, and then returned to the tribe, or their chiefs, should they remain loyal; and eventually they were restored. Rentap got wind of this, and sent out a party who set fire to Nanang's house, which was close to his on Sadok.

The gun was slung on a long pole, and sixty men were detailed to convey it up the mountain, but this could be effected by the means of ropes alone. No opposition was offered by Rentap, although four hours were consumed in transporting the gun to the summit. At 4.30 A.M. of the 28th, it was in position, but as a dense mist had rolled down enveloping the mountain top, nothing could be done with the gun till 7.30, when the mist had cleared away; and then such a raging wind was blowing, that the rockets could not be used. The gun was discharged, but, after the seventeenth round, the carriage gave way; however, it had effected the purpose for which it had been brought up, by tearing gaps in the stockade of Rentap's fortress, and now, under cover of a volley of musketry, the storming party rushed over the neck of rock, and dashed in at the gaps that had been made. They found the fortress deserted by all but the dead and dying. Rentap, perceiving that it was no longer tenable, had fled with his men down the opposite end of the mountain. In the fortress were found the arms captured when he fought with Brereton and Lee, in 1853, and a large quantity of ammunition, which had been supplied by Sherip Masahor; also, amongst others, a brass cannon taken from a gunboat belonging to the Sultan of Pontianak that had been captured by Rentap in 1837 off Mempawa, in sight of her consort, a Dutch gunboat. In the afternoon of the same day, fuel was heaped about the stockade and long houses; a gun was fired, and in ten minutes a column of fire mounted and was carried in blazing streamers before the wind. As the darkness settled down, the summit of Sadok was glowing and shooting up tongues of flame like a volcano, visible for miles around, and proclaiming unmistakably the end of Rentap's domination as Rajah of the interior.

Rentap will not be noticed again. Broken, and deserted by all, he retired to the Entabai branch of the Kanowit, where he died some years later.

Footnote 187:

This is now the established title of the second sons of the Rajahs.

Footnote 188:

Now the Right Hon. Sir John Dalrymple Hay, Bart., P.C.

Footnote 189:

Pangiran Matali (Muhammad Ali) was a brave man, honest and faithful. He was a Government chief and magistrate, and his death, a few years ago, was felt as a severe loss. He had a very thorough knowledge of the Dayaks, and was a capable man in handling them. He was a prince by birth of the royal blood of Bruni. He stands out as an example of what such princes were capable of becoming under a just government.

Footnote 190:

Abang Aing was the head Government chief and native magistrate at Sekrang, a post he held with distinction, noted for his fair and impartial judgments, till his death, which took place in December, 1884. He and Pangiran Matali were the present Rajah's main supporters and most trusted servants in the old troublesome days; and their names stand foremost amongst those Malay chiefs who won an honourable place in the annals of Sarawak for devotion to the cause of law and order.

Footnote 191:

S. St. John, in his _Life of Sir James Brooke_, says that Rentap took Lee's head, but this was not the case.

Footnote 192:

Mr. C. Grant of Kilgraston, N.B., was a midshipman on the _Mæander_ when that ship brought the Rajah out from England. He became the Rajah's private secretary in September, 1848. He retired in 1863.

Footnote 193:

These are titles of Sanskrit origin bestowed by the Sultan, the meanings of which are somewhat obscure. The first probably means "the revered Lord"; the third "high in eminence"; as regards the second, Pelawan may mean the name of a place, otherwise it is untranslatable.

Footnote 194:

Apai = the father of.

Footnote 195:

As in the case of Mr. Lee, little has been recorded of Mr. H. Steele. He did good service at the battle of Beting Maru, and probably joined in 1848. He was selected by the Rajah to take charge of the fort at Kanowit when it was built, and there he was murdered in 1859. He was a noted linguist.

Footnote 196:

Brass cannon of Malay manufacture.

Footnote 197:

Seman was a Kalaka Malay living in Kuching, and had been made a penglima by the Rajah for his courage and dash. His name still survives in Kampong Penglima Seman—the village, or parish, of Penglima Seman, within the township of Kuching.

Footnote 198:

The brutal and disgusting behaviour of the women on the arrival of a fresh "trophy," to one who has witnessed it, would choke off any pity for them.

Footnote 199:

These articles and other valuables, though a bitter loss, can be replaced. But the destruction of their homes, rice-stores and standing crops, household goods, cooking utensils and clothing, pigs, poultry, and hunting dogs, boats and paddles, and farming implements are losses that it takes two years to regain, and which reduces them for the time to a condition of beggary.

Footnote 200:

Sauh Besi, a powerfully built Malay.

Footnote 201:

Sandom was the guide. He was a plucky Sekrang Dayak, and thirsted for Rentap's blood in revenge for the murder of his brother, who had been put to a cruel death by Rentap.

Footnote 202:

His _nom de guerre_, or _ensumbar_ in Dayak, was Mua-ari, literally the Face of the Day. He was sometimes foe and sometimes friend, and will be mentioned again. The _ensumbar_ is frequently, not always, given to or adopted by warriors who have in some way or another gained renown. Some writers have confused it with the _julok_, or nickname, which refers to some bodily defect or peculiarity, and with names given to children at birth, such as Tedong, the cobra; Bulan, the moon; Matahari, the sun; Besi, iron. Malays are sometimes given a _nom de guerre_, such as Sauh Besi, above mentioned, and Sherip Sahap was known as Bujang Brani, the Brave Bachelor, which is also a Dayak _ensumbar_; others are the White Hawk, the Hovering Hawk, the Torrent of Blood, etc. The totem is unknown amongst the Sea-Dayaks.

Footnote 203:

John Channon, a merchant seaman, served the Government for many years. Of him the Tuan Muda wrote in 1859: "John had been my companion for many dreary months in the hot cabin of his vessel. He had charge of the _Jolly_ for years, and many a creek and dangerous cranny had she become acquainted with in our expeditions. His valuable services, as well as steady and brave conduct, both on board and in the jungles, cannot be too highly praised in the annals of Sarawak."

Footnote 204:

James Brooke Cruickshank, a godson of the Rajah. He joined in February, 1856, when about fifteen years of age; and at this time was stationed in the Sadong. He served for many years in the Dayak countries; and ultimately became Resident of the 3rd Division. He retired in 1875, and died in 1894.

Footnote 205:

Mr. W. C. Watson joined October, 1857, and resigned in 1869.

Footnote 206:

Nanga = the mouth of a river in Sea-Dayak; tiga = three.

Footnote 207:

Mr. C. Fox came to Sarawak from India in 1851, as master of the Mission School; he shortly afterwards joined the Rajah.