CHAPTER VI

THE CHINESE REBELLION, AND SECRET SOCIETIES

We must take a retrospective glance before proceeding with the subject of this chapter, in order to note briefly some important incidents, which have not been recorded in their proper sequence, so as not to interrupt a connected narrative of the events related in the preceding chapter. During the period covered by that chapter happened the grave disturbances caused by Sherip Masahor, aided by the disaffection of the Datu Patinggi Gapur, and backed by Bruni intrigue; also the troubles at Muka, which ended in the cession to the raj of that and neighbouring towns, with the intermediate country up to point Kedurong. Both occurred previously to Rentap's overthrow, but subsequently to the Chinese insurrection, and both will be fully related in the two following chapters.

In 1850, as we have already recorded, the Chinese colony in Upper Sarawak had been greatly augmented by the arrival of some thousands of Chinese refugees from Pemangkat in Dutch territory, who had come over into Sarawak to escape the tyranny of their stronger rivals, the Chinese of Montrado.

These Chinese were mostly gold miners, and had established themselves at Bau, Bidi, Paku, and Tundong, under one Kongsi, or company, to exploit the mines in the vicinity of these villages. Bau, their principal village, was the headquarters of the Kongsi. Others had settled at Siniawan, and Segobang, but these were agriculturists, and harmless people, though they were reluctantly dragged into rebellion by the machinations of the Secret Society formed by the turbulent mining communities, and became involved in the ruin that followed its attempt to overthrow the Government.

In Kuching there was also a fairly large number of Chinese, consisting mainly of merchants and traders, mostly well-to-do people, whose interests, as well as racial antagonism, placed them, then as now, in opposition to the principles of such secret societies, which aimed at the subversion of all constituted authority, and the substitution of terrorism.

For years past a secret society had been forming in Upper Sarawak, with its headquarters at Bau. It was not the product of any discontent with the Rajah's Government, to which its members had fled for protection from the tyranny to which they had been subjected over the border, but was formed by a few ambitious and unscrupulous men and their adherents to gain power, and these were principally the scattered remains of societies which had been driven out of Dutch territory.

The name of the Society was the Sam-Tiau-Kiau Hueh,[208] and it was amalgamated with the great Thien-Ti[209] Hueh, or Triad Society of China, which was firmly established in Singapore, and had its ramifications throughout the East. The Thien-Ti Hueh had its rise in the 17th century, and had a political origin. The object was the restoration of the Ming dynasty, which in the person of Tsung-Cheng was cut off by the Manchus in or about 1628. The Society is called "Triad," it being also known by the name of Sam-hap or "three united"—a Triad of Heaven, Earth, and Man; and these forces, where brought into perfect unity, produce peace and harmony. But it has entirely lost its political character, and has become socialistic and anarchical.[210] Although the maxim or motto of the Society is "Obey Heaven and work Righteousness," these objects are the very last sought by the members. Both in China and in the Dutch Colonies the League is forbidden by severe laws, and in Sarawak since 1870 the punishment for being the leader of any secret society is death. In China itself, to be found in possession of any books, seals or insignia of the Triad Society would render a person liable to decapitation, or subject him to a persecution to which even death would be preferable. The sure sign of the beginning of activity of a Society for some object it has set before it is a series of murders of those Chinese who have refused to join it, who have incurred its displeasure, or who are mistrusted. His blood is drunk, and an ear sent to the head of the Society, in token that he has been put to death. In Singapore it is now less noxious. There, every Society has to be registered and reported; and no secret society is allowed to meet that has not conformed to regulations, that deprive it of half its secrecy.[211]

There is not a shrewder or more industrious man under the sun than the yellow Chinaman. "Il engraisse le sol où il est planté," as Napoleon said of the Englishman. He is an admirable market-gardener, and will get more out of half an acre of land than any man else. He is a diligent planter, miner, and artisan, possesses great ability as a merchant, and is indispensable for the proper development of tropical countries. But in a good many exists an invincible love of belonging to a secret society, and such a society, although nominally a benefit-club, is really a hotbed of anarchy.

As it gathered strength the Sam-Tiau-Kiau Hueh became contumacious and insolent. As early as the close of 1850 it had brought itself conspicuously to the attention of the Rajah, and the principal men were warned to desist in time. This warning was unheeded, and a little later it was discovered that members were being enrolled by persuasion and threats, and that an agent of the Triad Society had come over from Singapore to further its objects. This man, Kah Yun, was arrested and sentenced to death, and others were fined and flogged. In 1852, the Chinese in Upper Sarawak, who had more than once before been turbulent and rebellious, openly resisted a Government officer, and prevented him from arresting a criminal, a member of the Hueh. The Tuan Muda was sent to the spot with a force, but, though well armed, the Chinese did not then feel themselves strong enough to resist, and offered the most humble obeisance, delivering up the culprit. They were then ordered to build a fort at Belidah, below Siniawan, to equip it with arms and ammunition, and to pay the wages of the fortmen. The fort, which was to be a check on the Chinese, was built, and placed in charge of Sherip Matusain, with a small garrison of Malays. The Chinese had been steadily collecting arms and ammunition for some time past, and they were now ordered to deliver up a hundred muskets, but the demand was afterwards relinquished. This was a mistake, as they had no need of firearms for their protection, living as they did amongst the peaceable Land Dayaks, and the Tuan Muda was rightly of opinion that they had not been sufficiently humbled, nor their power sufficiently weakened. To the Hueh, however, the lesson was useful—it showed them the strength of the Government, and taught them that submission would be wise until they were better prepared.

In Sarawak in 1857 there were about 4000 of these yellow men, located mainly in the mining district. There were numerous settlements over the frontier in the territories of the Sultan of Sambas, where also the people were engaged on the gold mines, and the Hueh could rely upon their active aid.

A good deal of smuggling of opium had been in progress, and evidence was obtained that convicted the Kongsi of gold-miners at Bau of having been engaged in this illicit trade; whereupon it was fined £150, a small sum considering the amount that the revenue had been defrauded by their means. This fine was imposed a month only before the outbreak occurred; it was paid, and the Hueh feigned submission.

The Sultan of Sambas had long been jealous of the growing prosperity of Sarawak, and of the contrast afforded to his own misrule by the liberal and good government there. Moreover, numerous Land-Dayaks from Sambas had moved into the Rajah's territories for the sake of the protection there afforded, which they could not obtain under the Sultan. He was accordingly willing to encourage any attempt made to overthrow the government of the Rajah.

In October, 1856, trouble with China began, and Commissioner Yeh, defying Sir John Bowring and Admiral Seymour, publicly offered a reward of thirty dollars for every English head. Rumour of this, greatly magnified into a general slaughter and expulsion of the English, had reached the Chinese in Singapore, where an outbreak took place in 1857, and Sarawak, where signs of unrest among the Chinese became apparent. The Commission of Inquiry into the conduct of the Rajah greatly tended to encourage the Chinese to revolt. They believed that the British Government strongly disapproved of the rule of the Rajah, and would not lift a finger to maintain it. There was but a handful of white men in Sarawak, and the Land-Dayaks were well known to be a timorous people, indisposed to war. It was also thought that there was a body there of disaffected Malays, under the influence of the Rajah's old adversary, the Pangiran Makota, who was now supreme in Bruni, governing the mind of the imbecile Sultan, and watching for every opportunity of upsetting the rule of the English Rajah in the south.

The headmen of the Kongsi accordingly resolved upon striking a sudden blow, mastering Kuching, and sweeping the Rajah and all his officials out of the place. But, so as not to give occasion to the British Government to interfere, they determined to massacre them only, and to spare the lives of the few English merchants and missionaries resident at Kuching, and not members of the Rajah's staff.

At the close of 1856, the Rajah was at Singapore, whither he had gone to recruit, as he was much out of health. His nephew, the Tuan Muda, was at Sekrang, engaged on the construction of a new fort, when he received a letter from the principal official in Kuching, requesting him to be present at the Chinese New Year, and informing him that he had received disquieting intelligence about the Chinese gold-miners, who, under the plea of erecting a new joss or idol, or Tai-pi-kong,[212] meditated an attack on Kuching, and an attempt to overthrow the Government and establish their own independent rule. The Tuan Muda at once sought Abang Aing, the principal Sekrang chief, a man to be thoroughly trusted, but he was laid up with small-pox, and unable to help.

"He spoke very kindly and to the purpose, telling me plainly that he did not like the sound of the reports, and begged me to be careful. He regretted that he could not go himself, but would send a younger brother, and urge the Orang Kaya to accompany me, and he promised to arrange so as to follow me if anything serious really occurred. No Christian could have offered advice in a kinder tone or better spirit."

Accordingly the Tuan Muda hastened to Kuching, but found that all was quiet there, and it was supposed that the reports were unnecessarily alarming. Thus satisfied, he departed, and returned to Sekrang. Mr. Arthur Crookshank, then in charge at Kuching during the absence of the Rajah and the Tuan Besar, who was in England, however, took the precaution to man the small stockades, which constituted the only defences of the town, with a sufficient garrison.

On February 14, 1857, four days before the insurrection broke out, a Chinaman, who had formerly been expelled from Sarawak territory for joining a secret society, appeared in Bruni, and was detected attempting to induce the Chinese servants of Mr. Spenser St. John, then Consul-General there, to enter the Thien-ti Secret Society; and encouraging them to do so with the assurance that a general massacre of the white men in Sarawak was in contemplation, and that the Chinese would establish their own supremacy there. It is therefore by no means improbable that he was an agent of the Kongsi sent to Bruni, to communicate the plan of insurrection to Makota. Moreover, it was ascertained that overtures had been made to certain disaffected Malays in Sarawak to shut their eyes, if they did not feel inclined for actual co-operation in the attempt.

On the Rajah's return to Kuching from Singapore, Mr. Crookshank told him of the disquieting rumours, and of what he had done for the protection of the capital. And, although Mr. Middleton, the Inspector of Police, confirmed his opinion that precautions should be taken, the Rajah could not be induced to believe that there was danger, and unwisely dismissed the garrison from the forts, and no efficient watch was kept.

On February 18, the chief of the Kongsi assembled about six hundred of the ablest-bodied Chinamen belonging to the Society at Bau, armed them and marched to Tundong on the Sarawak river, where a squadron of large boats had been prepared to carry them to Kuching.

"During their slow passage down the river," says Mr. St. John, "a Malay who was accustomed to trade with the Chinese overtook them in a canoe and actually induced them to permit him to pass, under the plea that his wife and children lived in a place called Batu Kawa, eight miles above the town, and would be frightened if they heard so many men passing, and he not there to reassure them. Instead of going home, he pulled down as fast as he could till he reached the town of Kuching, and going straight to his relative, a Malay trader of the name of Gapur, who was a trustworthy and brave man, told him what he had seen; but Gapur said, 'Don't go and tell the chief or the Rajah such a tissue of absurdities,' yet he went himself over to the Bandar and informed him, but the Datu's answer was, 'The Rajah is unwell, we have heard similar reports for the last twenty years— don't go and bother him about it. I will tell him in the morning what your relative says.' This great security was caused by the universal belief that the Chinese could not commit so great a folly as to attempt to seize the government of the country, considering that they did not number above 4000, while at that time the Malays and Dayaks within the Sarawak territories amounted to 200,000 at least. It is strange, however, and was an unpardonable neglect of the Bandar, not to have sent a fast boat up the river to ascertain what was really going on. Had he done so, the town and numerous lives would have been saved."

Shortly after midnight the squadron arrived unnoticed, and dividing into two parties proceeded to surprise the Government buildings and the stockades. The details of the attack on the Rajah's house and of his escape are given in an account by his steward, Charles Penty. Mr. Penty says:—

I was sleeping in a room near the Rajah, who had not been well for some days. The attack took place about midnight, with fearful yelling and firing. I hurried out of bed, and met the Rajah in the passage in the dark, who at the moment took me for one of the rebels, grappled me by the throat, and was about to shoot me, when he fortunately discovered it was me. We then opened the venetian window of my room and saw poor Mr. Nicholetts murdered before our eyes. The Rajah said, "Ah, Penty, it will be our turn next."

Then we went to another part of the house, where the crowd of rebels was even thicker. The Rajah seemed determined to fight. While he was loading a double-barrel gun for my use, our light went out and he had to do without. The Rajah then led the way to his bathroom, under his bedroom, and rushed out of the door. The rebels, having gathered round poor Mr. Nicholetts' body, left the way pretty clear, and the Rajah, with his sword and revolver in hand, made his way to a small creek and swam under the bow of a boat that had brought the rebels.[213] Being unable to swim, I ran up the plantation and rushed into the jungle. The Rajah's beautiful house was blazing from end to end, and the light reflected for a great distance. Mr. Crookshank's and Mr. Middleton's houses were also burning. At daybreak I heard Malay voices; they, like myself, were running away from the town, which was in the hands of the rebels. They kindly clothed me and took me to the Rajah.

After diving under the Chinese boat, the Rajah had swum across the creek, where he lay exhausted on the mud bank for a while, until sufficiently recovered to be able to reach the house of a Malay official, where shortly after he was joined by Mr. Crookshank and Mr. Middleton. The Mr. Nicholetts who was murdered before the eyes of the Rajah was a promising young officer, who had just arrived from Lundu on a visit, and was lodged in a cottage near the Rajah's house.[214] Startled from his sleep by the yells of the Chinese, he rushed from his door, when the rebels fell on him, hacked off his head, and, putting it on a pike, paraded the town with it, shouting that they had killed the Rajah himself.

Imminent as their own danger was, the Malays did not forget the Rajah, and a gallant little band led by Haji Bua Hasan, then the Datu Imaum, hastened to his aid, though they were too late; and they had to fight their way back.

"The other attacks," says Mr. St. John, "took place simultaneously. Mr. and Mrs. Crookshank, rushing forth on hearing this midnight alarm, were cut down—the latter left for dead, the former seriously wounded. The constable's house was attacked, but he and his wife escaped, while their two children and an English lodger were killed by the insurgents. Here occurred a scene which shows how barbarous were the Chinese. When the rebels burst into Mr. Middleton's house, he fled, and his wife following found herself in the bathroom, and by the shouts was convinced that her retreat was cut off. In the meantime the Chinese had seized her two children, and brought the eldest down into the bathroom to show the way his father had escaped. Mrs. Middleton's only refuge was a large water-jar; there she heard the poor little boy questioned, pleading for his life, and heard his shriek when the fatal sword was raised which severed his head from his body. The fiends kicked the little head with loud laughter from one to another. They then set fire to the house, and she distinctly heard the second child shrieking as they tossed him into the flames. Mrs. Middleton remained in the jar till the falling embers forced her to leave. She then got into a neighbouring pond, and thus escaped the eyes of the Chinese, who were frantically rushing about the burning house. Her escape was most extraordinary.[215]

"The stockades, however, were not surprised. The Chinese, waiting for the signal of attack on the houses, were at length perceived by the sentinel, and he immediately roused the treasurer, Mr. Crymble, who resided in the stockade, which contained the arsenal and the prison. He endeavoured to make some preparation for defence, although he had but four Malays with him. He had scarcely time, however, to load a 6-pounder field-piece, and get his own rifle ready, before the Chinese with loud shouts rushed to the assault. They were led by a man bearing in each hand a flaming torch. Mr. Crymble waited until they were within forty yards, he then fired and killed the man who, by the light he bore, made himself conspicuous, and, before the crowd recovered from the confusion in which they were thrown by the fall of their leader, discharged among them the 6-pounder loaded with grape, which made the assailants retire behind the neighbouring houses, or hide in the outer ditches. But, with four men, little could be done; and some of the rebels having quietly crossed the inner ditch, commenced removing the planks which constituted the only defence. To add to the difficulty, they threw over into the inner court little iron tripods, with flaming torches attached, which rendered it as light as day, while they remained shrouded in darkness.

"To increase the number of the defenders, Mr. Crymble released two Malay prisoners, one a madman who had killed his wife, the other a debtor. This latter quickly disappeared, while the former, regardless of the shot flying around, stood to the post assigned him, opposite a plank which the Chinese were trying to remove. He had orders to fire his carbine at the first person who appeared, and, the plank giving way, a man attempted to force his body through, he pulled the trigger without lowering the muzzle of his carbine, and sent the ball through his own brains. Mr. Crymble now found it useless to prolong the struggle, as one of his few men was killed, and another, a brave Malay corporal, was shot down at his side. The wounded man begged Mr. Crymble to fly and leave him there, but asked to shake hands with him first, and tell him whether he had not done his duty. The brave Irishman seized him by the arm and attempted to drag him up the stairs leading to the dwelling over the gate, but the Chinese had already gained the courtyard, and pursuing them, drove their spears through the wounded man, and Mr. Crymble was forced to let go his hold, and with a brave follower, Daud, swung himself down into the ditch below. Some of the rebels, seeing their attempt to escape, tried to stop Mr. Crymble, and a man stabbed at him, but only glanced his thick frieze coat, and received in return a cut across the face from the Irishman's cutlass, which was a remembrance to carry to the grave.

"The other stockade, though it had been but a corporal's watch of three Malays, did not surrender, but finding that every other place was in the hands of the Chinese, the brave defenders opened their gates and, charging the crowd of rebels, sword in hand, made their escape, though they were all severely wounded in the attempt.

"The confusion which reigned throughout the rest of the town may be imagined, as, startled by the shouts and yells of the Chinese, the inhabitants rushed to the doors and windows, and beheld night turned into day by the bright flames which rose in three directions, where the Rajah's, Mr. Crookshank's, and Mr. Middleton's houses were all burning at the same time."

Those English whose dwellings had not been attacked gathered in the Mission-house, to the number of six men with eight or more children. All the men had guns, and it was resolved that they should endeavour to keep the Chinese back till the ladies had made their escape into the jungle. The Bishop, armed like the rest, gave his blessing to the whole party that united in brief prayer; but with the first streaks of daylight a party of seven Chinese came to the Mission-house, saying that their quarrel was with the Government only, and not with the English generally. They requested the Bishop to go with them to the hospital to attend to some thirteen or fourteen[216] of their men who had been wounded in the attack upon the fort.

The Rajah as soon as possible proceeded to the Datu Bandar's house, and being quickly joined by his English officers, endeavoured to organise a force to surprise the victorious Chinese, but it was impossible. No sooner did he collect a few men than their wives and children surrounded them and refused to be left,—and being without proper arms or ammunition, it was but a panic-stricken mob; so he instantly took his determination with that decision which had been the foundation of his success, and giving up the idea of an immediate attack, advised the removal of the women and children to the left-hand bank of the river, where they would be safe from a land attack of the Chinese, who could make their way along the right-hand bank by a road at the back of the town.[217]

By the morning the women and children had been moved across, and the Rajah and his officers, having been joined by Abang Buyong[218] and some armed Malays, proceeded to the Samarahan, intending to go on to the Batang Lupar, and fall back on the well-equipped forts there to organise a force to drive out the rebels.

The next morning the Chinese chiefs summoned the Bishop; Mr. L. V. Helms, Manager of the Borneo Company Limited; Mr. Rupell, a merchant, and the Datu Bandar, to appear before them in the Court-house. Seated on the Rajah's chair, the head Chief, supported by his secretaries, issued his orders that Mr. Helms and Mr. Rupell were to rule the foreign portion of the town, and the Datu Bandar the Malays, under the Kongsi as supreme rulers. The Bishop now warned the Chinese that they were playing a desperate game, that the Tuan Muda would be coming down upon them, with his host of Sekrang and Balau warriors, to avenge the death of his uncle and his friends—for most of them supposed the Rajah dead. Discouragement fell upon the Chinese, for they remembered that the Tuan Muda was the daring and popular leader of the Sea-Dayaks, and could bring many thousands of these wild warriors against them. They therefore decided to send him a letter to the effect that they would not interfere with him so long as he did not interfere with them, and confined himself to the districts under his government.

The leaders also knowing that the Rajah was not killed, had offered a large reward for his capture, dead or alive, for what he was preparing they knew not. They were now doubly anxious to leave Kuching with their plunder, they therefore called upon the Europeans and the Malay chiefs present to swear fidelity to the Kongsi, and this they were forced to do under fear of instant death.

The next day at noon the Chinese retired up-river with their boats heavily laden with cannon, rifles, plate, money, and all the valuables upon which they could lay their hands. The Malay chiefs at once held a meeting at the Datu Bandar's house, when sturdy Abang Pata, the Datu Temanggong's son, avowed his determination to remain faithful to the Rajah and at once to wreck vengeance on his enemies. Though all were as faithful, wiser counsels prevailed, the Malays being so scattered, conveying their women and children to places of safety, that no organised attack could yet be made; but Pata impetuously dashed off with a dozen men in a small canoe, and following the Chinese, captured one of their boats, killing five of the crew. This, and the news reaching them that the Malays were preparing to resist, brought the Chinese back, recruited by several hundreds from Upper Sarawak, and the agriculturists of Segobang, whom they had forced to join them, and when the Rajah returned at the earnest request of the chiefs to lead them against the Chinese, a request he complied with, though he knew it was useless, he found the rest of the English flying, the town in the hands of the Chinese, and the Malay houses burning.

As soon as the Chinese boats were seen rounding the point above the town, the Malays gallantly dashed at them, and succeeded in capturing ten of their largest barges. They were, however, pressed back by the more numerous and better armed Chinese, and, though they lost heavily, they doggedly retreated retaining their prizes, which were laden with valuable plunder, and, what was of more use to them, a quantity of arms and ammunition, and secured them to a large trading vessel anchored in the centre of the river. Here they maintained a determined resistance, which they were now better able to do, and effectually defied the Chinese to dislodge them. They were commanded by the Datu Bandar Muhammad Lana, a grave and gentle Malay, who now showed the courage of his father, the late Datu Patinggi Ali. The Chinese still held the town in force.

The Rajah was again forced to retire, to carry out his original intention of rallying his people up the coast, but his first care was to see to the safety of the ladies, the English non-combatants, and the wounded, and to send them off to safety at Lingga fort under the care of the Bishop in a schooner. Despondently he prepared next day to follow with a small flotilla of Malay boats, but at the mouth of the river, to his intense relief, the Borneo Company's steamer, the _Sir James Brooke_, arriving from Singapore, met them. The vanguard of the Tuan Muda's force, which was quickly coming to his relief, was also arriving, and now the tide had changed, and the day of reckoning had come.

The sight of the steamer and the Dayak bangkongs eagerly following was quite sufficient for the Chinese. They fired one wild volley, and fled panic-stricken, with the ships' guns playing on them, and pursued by the Dayaks and Malays.

The Datu Bandar's gallant band on board the trader and in war-boats around her had stood their ground in spite of heavy guns having been brought to bear upon them, and they now assumed the offensive. The Chinese, that morning, had crossed the river to destroy the Malay town on the other side; their boats were now seized, and the Dayaks pursued them into the jungle. Of that large party, not one can have escaped. Those who were not killed wandered into the jungle and died of starvation, or hanged themselves. Their bodies were eagerly sought for, as on many were found from five to twenty pounds sterling, besides silver spoons, forks, or other valuables, the plunder of the English houses.

The main body of the Chinese retired by road to Segobang, and from thence up-river in their boats.

We have already recorded how the news had been brought to the Tuan Muda at Sekrang, and how he hurried with his Dayaks to the Rajah's rescue, to find him safe and in good health, though crippled by the injuries he had received, on board the _Sir James Brooke_, which he had made his headquarters. Kuching was wrecked—"a mass of ashes, and confusion and ruin lay around. Half-habitable débris of houses only were left. The trees for many hundred yards around the fires were nearly all burnt black and leafless, and those remaining alive were drooping," so the Tuan Muda wrote, and we will now follow his account of the retribution which the rebels so deservedly met.

To check the pursuing boats of the Dayaks and Malays, the Chinese had thrown up a strong stockade at Lidah Tanah (lit. the tongue of land), a point of land at the junction of the right and left hand branches of the river. Here they placed a picked garrison under trusted leaders, and the stockade was well armed with guns and rifles that had been taken from Kuching.

A small force of Malays, and several hundreds of Sekrang and Saribas Dayaks were organised to attack it, and the mild Datu Bandar, in his new rôle of a redoubtable warrior, led them with such dash that the position was soon carried. Amongst the trophies that were brought back by the Dayaks the Chinese merchants recognised the heads of some of the principal leaders of the rebels, and showed marked satisfaction that such was the case.

The Rajah and the Tuan Muda then pushed on to Belidah, about eight miles above Lidah Tanah. Here the fort was found to have been destroyed, the rebels having left little behind them in their retreat but desolation and misery. The Malays and Dayaks were then despatched under Abang Buyong to attack the Chinese, but these latter were in full retreat from Bau, and their other villages, towards the border; once across they would be safe:

but the dogs of war were at their heels, harassing and cutting them off at every opportunity. Their plan of retreat was very skilfully arranged, and a fanatical idea of the infallibility of their Joss (idol), which they carried with them, kept them in order. We were helpless to a certain extent, in being unable to gather together an organised force, or we should have routed them without doubt, and fearful loss of life would have been the consequence. In looking back on these events, it was perhaps fortunate that we were not able to act more unitedly against them, but if it had been within our power at that time, the Joss undoubtedly would have been overturned, and the people exterminated. The most merciful of men could not deny that they had richly merited such a punishment. They protected this image with the utmost caution, keeping their women and children around it, while their bravest men acted as a guard on the outside. They had advanced a considerable distance before the Dayaks approached. The Dayak leaders on closing were at once shot down. This made the others more cautious. But the Chinamen had our best rifles and arms, with all the necessary accoutrements belonging to them. The Dayaks then changed their tactics, and did not dare appear in the open road again, but entered the jungle on each side of the enemy, and thus harassed them continually, cutting off every straggler without mercy. The Chinamen were powerless to follow these wild cat-like fellows into the close jungles, and were obliged to submit to their fate as best they might. The road over which the rebels were retreating was one continued track of clothes, valuables, silver plate, and dead bodies. To enable their retreating force to gain a few minutes whilst passing precipitous places, they strewed the road with rice, and threw here and there a valuable article to retard and keep off their pursuers. This continued for several successive days, during which the Chinese must have suffered intensely. They were not even able to cook or sleep by night or day. They now arrived at a point which must have ended their career, if it had been properly held. This was Gombang Hill, which forms the frontier between Sambas and Sarawak: here was a long Dayak house, past which the Chinese could not go unless the inhabitants were favourably disposed to them;[219]—

but these suffered themselves to be bribed into permitting the rebels to pass unmolested. Thus the survivors of the Chinese escaped into Sambas territory.

But no sooner were they there than those of the Chinese who did not belong to the Secret Society, filled with resentment against the members of that league for having involved them in such disaster, fell upon them, and killed many of them, reducing the hundred of the original band of 600, who had survived the muskets and spears of the Dayaks, to between thirty and forty. To add to their discomfiture, the Dutch officers came upon them and despoiled them of all the arms and plunder they had succeeded in bringing with them, and placed them under strict surveillance. The Dutch Government sent back to Kuching everything which was considered to be public or private property.[220]

How many of the rebels were killed it has not been possible to estimate, but it could not have been far short of 1000. Sir Spenser estimates that 2000, of which half were women and children, escaped over the borders, but this is probably an under-estimate.

"It was the madness," wrote the Rajah, "the stark staring folly of the attempt that caused it to succeed. With mankind in general we may trust to their not doing anything utterly opposed to reason; but this rule does not hold good with the Chinese," who in their blindness of consequences become daring and audacious, and, when possessed of power, contemptuous of their adversaries, but who lose spirit on the first reverse.

April 15, witnessed the closing scene of the drama. A prahu gaily decorated with flags and the yellow umbrella, the symbol of authority, went up and down the river. A gong was beaten, and then a man, standing among the flags and umbrella, proclaimed peace, and announced that all danger was at an end, and that every one might now put away his arms.

On March 28, when peace had been restored, H.M.S. _Spartan_ arrived, under Captain Sir William Hoste, from Singapore, with instructions to protect British lives and property, but with no orders to fire a gun, or to lend a marine or blue-jacket for the protection of the Sarawak Government. There was no knowing what the humanitarians at home might say, should a finger be held out to assist the Rajah. Those who lifted up their voices to justify the pirates might now espouse the cause of the Chinese, and again be loud in condemnation of the Rajah for having summarily suppressed the insurrection. There will always be found a man, as says Cordatus in Ben Jonson's _Every Man out of his Humour_, "who will prefer all countries before his native," and thinks every man right except an Englishman.

The Dutch Resident at Pontianak behaved very differently from the English authorities. He at once sent a gunboat and troops to Sarawak with offers of assistance, which, however, were not then required.

The rebellion was "the direct outcome of the loss of prestige and strength which followed the appointment of the Commission sent to try the Rajah for high crimes and misdemeanours, the favourable findings of which had never been brought home to the native mind by any act of reparation made by the British Government."[221] The Chinese knew that the Rajah had been left to his fate by his country, and, as _The Times_ commented,—

had they (the Chinese) had the opportunity of reading recent debates in the British Parliament, their more subtle spirits might have received further encouragement from the belief that we were not only an ultra-peaceful, but an ultra-punctilious people, and that the cutting of Rajah Brooke's throat and the burning of the town might be considered matters beyond our cognizance, until the precise colonial status of Sarawak was determined, and whether a Kunsi Chinese (_sic_, Chinese Kongsi) was under the jurisdiction of any British court.

And, the _Daily News_, which through ignorance of the true circumstances had voiced the hostile opinion of the cranks against the Rajah in the matter of the suppression of the Saribas and Sekrang pirates, was candid enough to admit

having in the earlier part of Sir James Brooke's career felt it our duty to express our dissent from, and disapproval of, certain parts of his policy, we have sincere pleasure in proclaiming our unreserved admiration of the manner in which he must have exercised his power to have produced such fruits.

But it was precisely that part of his policy that had been condemned by Mr. Gladstone and the _Daily News_ which had produced these present marked effects.

The condition of the Sarawak Government was now serious, and surrounded with difficulties. The revenue was gone. There was not a shred of a document extant to tell the tale of former times. So complete was the ruin that the Rajah had to wear native costume, which he borrowed here and there.

But there was a bright spot amid the gloom, in the devotion of the natives; their sympathy, their kindness, their entire willingness to do what they could, are all balm to a wounded spirit. We have lost everything but the hearts of the people, and that is much to retain.[222]

The fidelity of the natives of all races and classes was exemplary. They everywhere took up arms to support the Rajah and their Government, and had the Chinese been twenty times as numerous, they would have been driven out.

The whole of the Rajah's private capital had been long ago exhausted, and how were the ruins to be cleared away and the Government buildings to be rebuilt? how were the servants of the State to be paid? Nevertheless the Rajah and his staff faced their difficulties with courage and confidence; but, deserted by the British Government, he was sorely tempted to appeal to that of another power. Happily, after a period of discouragement and resentment, he resolved to face his difficulties, relying only on himself and his few English assistants. He had on his right and left hand two stout and able men, his two nephews.

Within a short period many of the Chinese refugees, particularly those of the agricultural class, returned and rebuilt their old homes. Gradually their numbers were added to by others from over the border, from the Straits, and from China, until in time Upper Sarawak recovered its former prosperity. The severe lesson they had learnt, which had taught them how powerless they were to cope with the forces at the call of the Government, that were not represented merely by a handful of fortmen and policemen as they had blindly imagined, did not, however, deter them from forming another Hueh, which decreased and increased in strength in proportion to the number of people in the district. But the power of the Government has been steadily growing, and what chance the Hueh may have ever hoped to obtain of successfully opposing it has long ago vanished. Dangerous and mischievous, however, these secret societies can still be, unless vigilantly watched and swiftly suppressed, and the Chinese population in Upper Sarawak has since increased five-fold.

For years the Bau Hueh remained dormant, though it had a perfect organisation, but in 1869 it raised its hand in opposition to the Government, and barbarously murdered an informer. Mr. Crookshank, who was administering the Government in the absence of the present Rajah, took prompt and energetic measures, and all the headmen of the Hueh were arrested. They were condemned to long terms of imprisonment and to be flogged. When their terms had expired they were banished the country under a penalty of death should they return; but the Hueh in Dutch Borneo, of which this was a branch, immediately re-organised the Society and appointed other office-bearers. Unfortunately the register and records of this Hueh could not be found. They had been cleverly concealed in the double-planked floor of a bed-place which had been overturned in the search.

In 1884-85, the Secret Society was in active revolt against the Dutch Government, which was at first only able to hold the rebels in check, not having sufficient forces to quell them. At Mandor, a large Chinese town, they killed the Dutch official in charge, and burnt down the Government buildings. After some hard fighting with great loss on both sides, Mandor was surrendered by the rebels, upon the false promise of an amnesty held out to them by the Sultan of Sambas. Finding themselves deceived, the Chinese again broke out in rebellion, and seized the important town of Mempawa, killing, amongst others, the Dutch officer in charge, and driving the Dutch troops back. But their triumph was short-lived, for upon the arrival of strong reinforcements the rebellion was quelled. One of the principal leaders, the man who had shot the Dutch controller of Mandor, was subsequently arrested in Sarawak, but rather than face his fate he hanged himself by his queue in his cell the day a Dutch gunboat had come round to fetch him.

In 1889, a secret society, allied with the Sam Tiam[223] or Ghee Hin Hueh, a branch of the Triad Society of China, was established at Segobang, the centre of a large district of Chinese pepper planters. This Hueh had been formed by criminals and expelled members of the Society from Mandor and Montrado. Their primary intention was to raise another rebellion in Dutch territory, but they were banded by oath to exterminate _all people without queues_. On July 15, the houses of the chief and other known leaders were surrounded and searched, and the inmates arrested. The documents seized clearly showed the objects of the Society; that they had hundreds of men organised and ready for service; and that they were in correspondence with the Ghee Hin Societies at Mandor and Singapore. Six of the leaders were executed, and eleven sentenced to penal servitude for life. One of the principals, who had taken a leading part in the Mandor rebellion of 1884, was handed over to the Dutch.

As late as 1906, one or two mysterious murders of Chinese in the Rejang aroused the suspicions of the authorities, and it was found that a secret society existed on that river. Valuable help was afforded the Government by anonymous letters sent by law-abiding Chinese containing minutely accurate information as to the members and their doings, which led to the arrest of many, and to the discovery of incriminating documents. This Society was called the Golden Orchid or Lily Society, and was established at various places along the coast, from the Rejang to Simatan. This was also a branch of the Triad Society, professing the same great purpose, the reinstatement of the Ming dynasty in China, but in practice its objects were murder, robbery, and violence. Eight of the ringleaders were executed, and ten others sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.

Footnote 208:

Hueh, or Hui, is the Chinese word for a secret society.

Footnote 209:

Tien, heaven—ti, earth.

Footnote 210:

It is still part of the oath of the initiated, "I will use my utmost endeavour to drive out the Chheng and establish the Beng dynasty."— "Pickering, Chinese Secret Societies," in the _Journal_ of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1878.

Footnote 211:

Pickering, who knew a good deal about the Society and wrote thereon, had his life attempted, and, though not killed, was badly crippled.

Footnote 212:

Tai-pi-kong was the name of the joss.

Footnote 213:

The Chinese, holding the Rajah to be invulnerable, and being greatly in fear of him, purposely left the exit by the door of the bathroom unguarded.

Footnote 214:

He had joined the Sarawak service the year before. He was a brother of Colonel Nicholetts, who was married to a sister of the present Rajah.

Footnote 215:

A Mr. Wellington was killed trying to defend Mrs. Middleton and her children. He was a clerk in the Borneo Company, and had only lately joined.

Footnote 216:

St. John says thirty-seven, five of whom died before the Bishop's arrival.

Footnote 217:

Spenser St. John, _Life of Sir James Brooke_, to whom we are mainly indebted for the following particulars we give of the insurrection.

Footnote 218:

A Saribas Malay Chief, and a staunch supporter of the Government.

Footnote 219:

_Ten Years in Sarawak._

Footnote 220:

Sir Spenser St. John, _op. cit._

Footnote 221:

Sir Spenser St. John, _Rajah Brooke_.

Footnote 222:

The Rajah to Mr. Templer.

Footnote 223:

Three Dots.