BUILDERS OF
GREATER BRITAIN

Edited by H. F. WILSON, M.A.

Barrister-at-Law
Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge
Legal Assistant at the Colonial Office

BUILDERS OF GREATER BRITAIN

1. SIR WALTER RALEGH; the British Dominion of the West. By Martin A. S. Hume.

2. SIR THOMAS MAITLAND; the Mastery of the Mediterranean. By Walter Frewen Lord.

3. JOHN AND SEBASTIAN CABOT; the Discovery of North America. By C. Raymond Beazley, M.A.

4. EDWARD GIBBON WAKEFIELD; the Colonization of South Australia and New Zealand. By R. Garnett, C.B., LL.D.

5. LORD CLIVE; the Foundation of British Rule in India. By Sir A. J. Arbuthnot, K.C.S.I., C.I.E.

6. ADMIRAL PHILLIP; the Founding of New South Wales. By Louis Becke and Walter Jeffery.

7. RAJAH BROOKE; the Englishman as Ruler of an Eastern State. By Sir Spenser St John, G.C.M.G.

8. SIR STAMFORD RAFFLES; England in the Far East. By the Editor.

Builders
of
Greater Britain

RAJAH BROOKE

Brooke (signature)

RAJAH BROOKE

THE ENGLISHMAN AS RULER OF AN
EASTERN STATE

BY

Sir SPENSER ST JOHN, G.C.M.G.

AUTHOR OF
‘HAYTI; OR, THE BLACK REPUBLIC,’
‘LIFE IN THE FORESTS OF THE FAR EAST,’
ETC.

LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE
MDCCCXCIX

Copyright by T. Fisher Unwin, 1897, for Great Britain and
the United States of America

PREFACE

I have undertaken to write the life of the old Rajah, Sir James Brooke, my first and only chief, as one of the Builders of Greater Britain. In his case the expression must be used in its widest sense, as, in fact, he added but an inappreciable fragment to the Empire, whilst at the same time he was the cause of large territories being included within our sphere of influence. And if his advice had been followed, we should not now be troubled with the restless ambition of France in the Hindu-Chinese regions, as his policy was to secure, by well defined treaties, the independence of those Asiatic States, subject, however, to the beneficent influence of England as the Paramount Power, an influence to be used for the good of the governed. Sir James thoroughly understood that Eastern princes and chiefs are at first only influenced by fear; the fear of the consequences which might follow the neglect of the counsels of the protecting State.

The plan which the Rajah endeavoured to persuade the English Government to adopt was to make treaties with all the independent princes of the Eastern Archipelago, including those States whose shores are washed by the China Sea, as Siam, Cambodia and Annam, by which they could cede no territory to any foreign power without the previous consent of England, and to establish at the capitals of the larger States well-chosen diplomatic agents, to encourage the native rulers not only to improve the internal condition of their countries, but to inculcate justice in their treatment of foreigners, and thus avoid complications with other powers.

Sir James Brooke first attempted to carry out this enlightened policy by concluding treaties with the Sultans of Borneo and Sulu, to secure these States from extinction; the latter treaty was not ratified, however, owing to the timidity of a naval officer, foolishly influenced by a clever Spanish Consul in Singapore, who took advantage of the absence of the Rajah. In the forties and fifties the expansion of Great Britain, as is well known, was looked upon with genuine alarm by many of our leading statesmen.

Sir James Brooke, however, was not destined to see the fufilment of his ideas, as a ministry came into power in 1853 which cared nothing for the Further East, and in the hope of consolidating their majority in Parliament sacrificed their noble officer to appease the clamour raised by Joseph Hume and his followers, who, like other zealots, pursued their objects regardless of all the evidence which could be brought to refute their unfounded accusations. Joseph Hume may be called a libeller by profession, who began his career by making his fortune in the East India Company’s service in a very few years—a remarkable achievement; and who afterwards, when in Parliament, brought himself into notoriety by attacking first Sir Thomas Maitland, secondly Lord Torrington, and ultimately Sir James Brooke, whose shoe latchets he was unworthy to unloose.

Sir James had thus but a short career as an English official. He was named Confidential Agent in 1845, Commissioner and Consul-General in 1846, Governor of Labuan in 1847, and his return to England in 1851 practically closed his active political connection with England, though he did not resign all his offices until 1854.

But the Rajah did not thus conclude his own career; he returned to Sarawak and devoted all his energies to the development of his adopted country, and of the neighbouring districts. I shall have to relate what extraordinary vicissitudes of fortune he had to encounter, and how after many years of conflict he emerged triumphant, to leave to his successor, Sir Charles Brooke, a small kingdom, well organised as far as Sarawak was concerned, with strongly established positions reaching to Bintulu, which have but increased in influence and in power to further the well-being of the natives of every race and class; and to prove to all who care to interest themselves in the subject, what a gain to humanity has resulted from the old Rajah having had the courage and the forethought to found his rule in a wild country, whose inhabitants, with few exceptions, were till then inimical to Europeans, and mostly tainted by piracy. But he argued truly that these people knew very imperfectly what Englishmen were, and he determined to show them that some, at all events, were worthy of their confidence, and could devote themselves without reserve to their welfare.

The peculiarity of the Rajah’s system was to treat the natives, as far as possible, as equals; not only equals before the law, but in society. All his followers endeavoured to imitate their chief, and succeeded in a greater or less degree, thus producing a state of good feeling in the country which was probably found nowhere else in the East, except in Perak, one of the Protected States in the Malay Peninsula, into which one of his most able assistants introduced his method of government. I am told that this good feeling, if not the old friendly intimacy between native and European, still exists to a considerable degree throughout the possessions of the present Rajah, which is highly honourable to him and to his officers.

I have not attempted to re-write my account of the Chinese Insurrection (see Chapter VI.). I wrote it when all the events were fresh in my mind, and no subsequent information has rendered it necessary to make any changes. It was a most interesting and important incident in the Rajah’s career, and it fixed for ever in the minds of his countrymen how wise and beneficent must have been his rule of the Malays and Dyaks, that they should have stood by him as they did when he appeared before them as a defeated fugitive.

How far-seeing were the Rajah’s views and plans is proved by the fact that his successor has found it unnecessary to change any phase of his policy, whether political or commercial, whether financial, agricultural or judicial; with the growth of the country in population and wealth all has been of course considerably augmented, but the lines on which this great advance has been made were laid by the first Rajah, and that this honour is due to him no one should deny.

As there was but one Nelson, so there has been but one Sir James Brooke. How admirable was the simplicity of his character! So kind and gentle was he in manner, that the poorest, most down-trodden native would approach him without fear, confident that his story would be heard with benevolent attention, and that any wrong would, if possible, be righted. And as for the purity of his private life, he was a bright example to all those around him.

It may be thought that I have exaggerated the grandeur of the Rajah’s personality, and the great benefits he conferred on the natives, and that I have been influenced in my views by the warm friendship which existed between us. If there be any who hold this opinion, I would refer them to Mr Alfred Wallace’s work, The Malay Archipelago, in which, after dwelling in a most appreciative manner on the Rajah’s rule in Sarawak, he adds these eloquent words, ‘Since these lines were written his noble spirit has passed away. But though by those who knew him not he may be sneered at as an enthusiastic adventurer, or abused as a hard-hearted despot, the universal testimony of everyone who came in contact with him in his adopted country, whether European, Malay or Dyak, will be that Rajah Brooke was a great, a wise and a good ruler, a true and faithful friend, a man to be admired for his talents, respected for his honesty and courage, and loved for his genuine hospitality, his kindness of disposition and his tenderness of heart.’

The portrait of Rajah Brooke facing the title page is taken from the picture by Sir Francis Grant, which is one of his best works. It is a most speaking likeness, and I have left it in my will to the Trustees of the National Portrait Gallery, if they will accept it.

SPENSER ST JOHN.

4 Chester Street, S.W.

Note.—I would wish to add a few words to explain why, in the course of this Life of Rajah Brooke, I have not dwelt on the controversy which raged for some years about the character of the Seribas and Sakarang Dyaks. The only person who, to a late period, held to his view that these tribes were not piratical was Mr Gladstone; but after reading my first Life of Rajah Brooke, in which I defended the policy of my old chief with all the vigour I could command, I received the following note from him, which rendered unnecessary any further discussion of the subject:—

February 25, 1880.

My dear Sir,—I thank you very much for sending me your Life of Sir James Brooke, which I shall be anxious to examine with care. I have myself written words about Sir James Brooke which may serve to show that the difference between us is not so wide as might be supposed, and I fully admit that what I have questioned in his acts has been accepted by his legitimate superiors, the Government and the Parliament.—I remain, yours faithfully,

W. E. Gladstone.

His Excellency Spenser St John.

It is as well that I should publish another letter, to show that Mr Gladstone bore me no ill-will on account of the vigorous way I had attacked him whilst defending the policy of my old chief. I had applied to Lord Granville to be sent out as Special Envoy to renew relations with the Republic of Mexico, and the following is his Lordship’s reply:—

Foreign Office, May 28, 1883.

My dear Sir Spenser,—Many thanks for your note. I have availed myself of your offer, mentioning it to Gladstone, who highly approved (notwithstanding the hard blows you once dealt him), and I have submitted your name to the Queen, who, I feel sure, will sanction the step.—Yours sincerely,

Granville.

It is pleasant to place on record this generosity of feeling in one of our greatest statesmen, whose career has now been closed.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Rajah Brooke

CHAPTER I

BROOKE’S ANCESTORS AND FAMILY—HIS EARLY LIFE—APPOINTED ENSIGN IN THE MADRAS NATIVE INFANTRY—CAMPAIGN IN BURMAH—IS WOUNDED AND LEAVES THE SERVICE—MAKES TWO VOYAGES TO CHINA—DEATH OF HIS FATHER—CRUISE IN THE YACHT ‘ROYALIST’

James Brooke was the second son of Mr Thomas Brooke of the Honourable East India Company’s Bengal Civil Service, and of Anna Maria Stuart, his wife. Their family consisted of two sons and four daughters. One of the latter, Emma, married the Rev. F. C. Johnson, Vicar of White Lackington; another, Margaret, married the Rev. Anthony Savage; the eldest son, Henry, died unmarried after a short career in the Indian army.

Mr Thomas Brooke was the seventh in descent from Sir Thomas Vyner, who, as Lord Mayor of London, entertained Oliver Cromwell in the Guildhall in 1654; whilst his only son, Sir Robert Vyner, who had taken the opposite side in those civil contests, received Charles II. in the city six years later. On the death of Sir Robert’s only son George the baronetcy became extinct, and the family estate of Eastbury, in Essex, reverted to the two daughters of Sir Thomas Vyner, from one of whom, Edith, the Brooke family is derived, as one of her descendants married a Captain Brooke, who was Rajah Brooke’s great-grandfather.[1]

Mr Thomas Brooke, though not distinguished by remarkable talent, was a straightforward, honest civilian, and his wife was a most lovable woman, who gained the affections of all those with whom she was brought into contact. She always enjoyed the most perfect confidence of her distinguished son. To her are addressed some of his finest letters, in which he pours forth his generous ideas for the promotion of the welfare of the people whom he had been called upon to govern.

James Brooke was born on the 29th of April 1803 at Secrore, the European suburb of Benares, and he remained in India until he was twelve years old, when he was sent to England to the care of Mrs Brooke, his paternal grandmother, who had established herself in Reigate. He shortly afterwards went to Norwich Grammar School, at that time under Dr Valpy, but he remained there only a couple of years, as, after the freedom of his life in India, discipline was irksome to him, and he ran away home to his grandmother. I never heard him say much about the master, but he loved and was beloved by many of his schoolfellows, and showed even then, by his influence over the boys, that he was a born leader of men.

About this time his parents returned from India and settled at Combe Grove, near Bath, where they collected their children around them. A private tutor was engaged to educate young Brooke, but it could have been only for a comparatively short time, as in 1819 he received his ensign’s commission in the 6th Madras Native Infantry, and soon started for India. He was promoted to his lieutenancy in 1821, and in the following year was made a Sub-Assistant Commissary-General, a post for which, as he used to say, he was eminently unfitted.

When the war with Burmah broke out in 1824 Brooke found himself thoroughly in his element. As the English army advanced into Assam the general in command found himself much hampered in his movements by the want of cavalry. Brooke partly relieved him of this difficulty; his offer to raise a body of horsemen was accepted. By the orders of the general he called for recruits, who could ride, from the different regiments, and soon had under him an efficient body of men, who undertook scouting duties. He found it difficult to keep them in hand, for the moment they saw an enemy they would charge, and then scatter in every direction where they thought a Burmese might be concealed.

During an action in January 1825 he performed very efficient service with his irregular cavalry, charging wherever any body of Burmese collected. He received the thanks of the general, and his conduct was mentioned in despatches as ‘most conspicuous.’ Two days later occurred an instance of what is almost unknown in our army. A company of native troops had been ordered to attack a stockade manned by Burmese; the English officer in command advanced until, on turning a clump of trees, he came well under fire; then, losing his nerve, he bolted into the jungle. Brooke arrived at that moment, saw the infantry wavering, threw himself from his horse, assumed the command, and thus encouraged they charged the stockade, but Brooke literally ‘foremost, fighting fell.’ Seeing their leader fall, the men were again about to retreat, when Colonel Richards, advancing with reinforcements, restored the fight, and in a few minutes the place was taken, though with heavy loss. No attempts were ever made to turn these strong stockades, and thus the army suffered severely and to no purpose.

I have often heard Sir James Brooke tell the story. He had been sent out to reconnoitre; found the enemy strongly posted, and suspecting an ambuscade, galloped back to warn his superior officer, but too late, as firing had already commenced, and the infantry, without a leader, were confused. He placed himself at their head, but as he charged he felt a thud, and fell, losing all consciousness. After the action was over, his colonel, who had seen him fall, inquired about young Brooke, and was told that he was dead; but examining the fallen officer himself, found him still alive and had him removed to hospital. A slug had lodged in his lungs, and for months he lay between life and death. It was not, in fact, until August that he was strong enough to be removed, and then only in a canoe. He was paddled down a branch of the Bramapootra, rarely suffering from pain, but gazing pensively at the fast-running stream and the fine jungle that lined its banks; in after life it seemed to him as a dream.

On the Medical Board at Calcutta reporting that a change of climate was necessary, he was given a long furlough. He returned to England and joined his family at Bath. The voyage did him some good, but the wound continued very troublesome, and at times it appeared as if he could not recover. After the slug had been extracted, however, he gradually got better, so that in July 1829 he was enabled to embark on board the Company’s ship Carn Brae; but fate was against his again joining the Indian army. This vessel was wrecked, and when, in the following March, he sailed for the East on board the Huntley Castle, she was so delayed by bad weather, that when she called in at Madras Brooke found that he could not join his regiment before the legal expiration of his leave. He consequently resigned the service and proceeded in the Huntley Castle to China.

Brooke never cared much for the East India Company’s service, and as he had formed friendships on board the Huntley Castle he preferred continuing in her to remaining idle in India awaiting the Directors’ decision, which, even if favourable, could scarcely arrive before twelve months had expired. The decision was favourable; but as young Brooke had in the meantime left Madras the matter dropped. The Indiaman first touched at the Island of Penang, one of the Straits Settlements, and here Brooke had an opportunity of seeing what lovely islands there were in the Further East. It is not necessary to dwell on this voyage, as nothing of importance occurred during it; but his stay in China made a deep impression on Brooke’s mind. He saw how the Chinese ill-treated and bullied our countrymen, and how the East India Company submitted to every insult in order not to imperil their trade.

After the usual stay in the Canton River, the Huntley Castle returned to England, and Brooke found himself at home with no employment whatever. He formed many projects; the favourite one, which he had discussed with the officers of the Huntley Castle, was to purchase a ship, load her with suitable goods, and sail for China or the adjacent markets. But as none of the friends had any capital, Brooke confided their views to his father, and naturally met with the objection that his son was not a trader and never could become one. However, in the end, the young fellow prevailed. The brig Findlay was bought, laden with goods, and with his partner, Kennedy, formerly of the Huntley Castle, and his friend, Harry Wright, also of the same vessel, he set sail for the Further East. This voyage was not destined to be a success. Brooke wished to introduce on board the easy discipline of a yacht, whilst Kennedy, who was captain, went to the other extreme and would insist upon the severe discipline of the navy, without its safeguards. Differences soon arose, and as they found trade by interlopers was not encouraged, Brooke went to see Mr Jardine, of the firm of Messrs Jardine, Matheson & Company, and laid the case before him. The shrewd man of business could not but smile at the idea of this elegant young soldier managing a trading speculation. He, however, agreed to buy vessel and cargo, and told the partners they had better leave the matter in his hands. No objection was raised, and Mr Jardine so judiciously invested in silks the amount he had arranged to pay, that in the end comparatively little loss accrued, none of which was allowed by Brooke to fall on Kennedy.

On his return to England Brooke wearied of continued leisure, and although he yachted about the Southern Coast and the Channel Islands, he longed for some sphere of action which could bring his great abilities into play. The death of his father, in December 1835, gave him complete independence. The fortune left was sufficient to provide for his wife, and to give to each of his children £30,000. Brooke now decided to carry out the plan he had formed since his first voyage to China, which was to buy a small vessel and start on a voyage of discovery. But this time there were to be no partners and no trade; he intended to be complete master in his own ship. He ultimately fixed his choice on the Royalist, a schooner yacht of about 142 tons burden. He was delighted with his purchase, and soon tried her qualifications by starting in the autumn of 1836 for a cruise in the Mediterranean. There he visited most of the principal cities, including Constantinople, which in after years afforded him a constant subject of conversation with the Malays, who interested themselves in every detail of his visit. ‘Roum’ to them is still the great city where dwells the head of the Mohammedan religion.[2] Among those who accompanied him on this cruise was his nephew, John Brooke Johnson, afterwards known as Captain Brooke, and also John Templer, who was then and for many years afterwards one of his warm friends and enthusiastic admirers.

Though determined to make a voyage of discovery in the Eastern Archipelago, Brooke was not able to leave England till December 1838. He employed all his spare time in studying the subject, finding out what was already known, and drawing attention to his plans by a memoir he wrote on Borneo and the neighbouring islands, summaries of which were published in the Athenæum and in the Journal of the Geographical Society. He felt a great admiration for Sir Stamford Raffles, and ardently desired to carry out his views in dealing with the peoples of the Further East.

How well Brooke sums up the feelings which prompted him to undertake what was in every respect a perilous enterprise! ‘Could I carry my vessel to places where the keel of European ship never before ploughed the waters; could I plant my foot where white man’s foot had never before been; could I gaze upon scenes which educated eyes had never looked on, see man in the rudest state of nature, I should be content without looking to further rewards.’

It is difficult, even under the most favourable circumstances, to convey to the mind of a reader an exact portrait of the man whose deeds you desire to chronicle; but as I lived for nearly twenty years with James Brooke, I feel I know him well in all his strength and his weakness. Let me try to describe him. He stood about five feet ten inches in height; he had an open, handsome countenance; an active, supple frame; a daring courage that no danger could daunt; a sweet, affectionate disposition which endeared him to all who knew him well. Those whom he attended in sickness could never forget his almost womanly tenderness, and those who attended him, his courageous endurance. His power of attaching both friends and followers was unrivalled, and this extended to nearly every native with whom he came in contact. His few failings were his too great frankness, his readiness to believe that men were what they professed to be, or should have been, and (for a short time in latter years) that the unsophisticated lower classes were more to be trusted and relied on than those above them in birth and education. His only weaknesses were, in truth, such as arose from his great goodness of heart and his confiding nature.

No painter ever succeeded better in conveying a man’s self into a portrait than Sir Francis Grant in his picture of Sir James Brooke. I have it now before me, and all I have said of his appearance may be seen at a glance. Although thirty years have passed since we lost him, he remains as much enshrined as ever in the hearts of his few surviving friends.

This brief preliminary chapter ended, I will now describe Brooke’s voyage to Borneo, and the events which succeeded that remarkable undertaking.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] These details are taken from Miss Jacob’s Life of the Rajah of Sarawak, Vol. I., page 1.

[2] When I first went to live in Brunei, the Sultan of Borneo’s capital, there was living there an old haji who was visiting Egypt at the time of Buonaparte’s invasion, and who remembered well the Battle of the Nile and the subsequent expulsion of the French by the English.

CHAPTER II

EXPEDITION TO BORNEO—FIRST VISIT TO SARAWAK—VOYAGE TO CELEBES—SECOND VISIT TO SARAWAK—JOINS MUDA HASSIM’S ARMY—BROOKE’S ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE CIVIL WAR—IT IS ENDED UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HIS ACTIVE INTERFERENCE—HE SAVES THE LIVES OF THE REBEL CHIEFS

Brooke sailed from Devonport on December 16, 1838, in the Royalist, belonging to the Royal Yacht Squadron, which, in foreign ports, admitted her to the same privileges as a ship of war, and enabled her to carry a white ensign. As the Royalist is still an historic character in the Eastern Archipelago, I must let the owner describe her as she was in 1838. ‘She sails fast; is conveniently fitted up; is armed with six six-pounders, and a number of swords and small arms of all sorts; carries four boats and provisions for four months. Her principal defect is being too sharp in the floor. She is a good sea boat, and as well calculated for the service as could be desired. Most of the hands have been with me for three years, and the rest are highly recommended.’

Whilst the Royalist is speeding on prosperously towards Singapore, and calling at Rio Janeiro and the Cape, let me sum up in a few words the object of the voyage.

The memorandum[3] which Brooke drew up on the then state of the Indian Archipelago (1838), shows how carefully he had studied the whole subject. He first expounds the policy which England should follow if she wished to recover the position which she wantonly threw away after the peace of 1815; he then explains what he proposed to do for the furtherance of our knowledge of Borneo and the other great islands to the East. Circumstances, however, as he anticipated might be the case, made him change the direction of his first local voyage.

The Royalist arrived in Singapore in May 1839, and remained at that port till the end of July, refitting and preparing for future work. There Brooke received news which induced him to give up for the present the proposed voyage to Marudu Bay, the northernmost district of Borneo, and visit Sarawak instead. Rajah Muda Hassim, uncle to the Sultan of Brunei, was then residing there, and being of a kindly disposition, had taken care of the crew of a shipwrecked English vessel, and sent the men in safety to Singapore. This unlooked-for conduct on the part of a Malay chief roused the interest of the Singapore merchants, and Brooke was requested to call in at Sarawak and deliver to the Malay prince a letter and presents from the Chamber of Commerce.

This was a fortunate diversion of his voyage, as at that time Marudu was governed by a notorious pirate chief. The bay was a rendezvous for some of the most daring marauders in the Archipelago, and nothing could have been done there to further our knowledge of the interior.

All being ready, and the crew strengthened by eight Singapore Malay seamen,[4] athletic fellows, capital at the oar, and to save the white men the work of wooding and watering, the Royalist sailed for Borneo on the 27th of July, and in five days was anchored off the coast of Sambas. All the charts were found to be wrong, so that every care had to be taken whilst working up the coast. A running survey was made, and on the 11th August Brooke found himself at the mouth of the Sarawak river.

When Brooke first arrived in Borneo, the Sultan Omar Ali claimed all the coast from the capital to Tanjong Datu, whilst further south was Sambas, under the influence of the Dutch; but the rule of Omar Ali was little more than nominal, as each chief in the different districts exercised almost unlimited power, and paid little or no tribute to the central Government.

At the time of Brooke’s first visit to Sarawak the Malays of the country had broken out into revolt against the oppressive rule of Pangeran Makota, Governor of the district, and fearing that they might call in the aid of the Sambas Malays, and thus place the country under the control of the Dutch, the Sultan sent down Rajah Muda Hassim, his uncle and heir-presumptive, to endeavour to stifle the rebellion; but three years had passed, and he had done nothing. He could prevent the rebels from communicating with the sea, but he was powerless in the interior.

On hearing of the arrival of the Royalist at the mouth of the river, Muda Hassim despatched a deputation to welcome the stranger and invite him to the capital—rather a grand name for a small village. Brooke soon got his vessel under weigh, and proceeded up the Sarawak, and after one slight mishap, anchored the next day opposite the rajah’s house, and saluted his flag with twenty-one guns.

Muda Hassim received Brooke in state, and the interview is thus described: ‘The rajah was seated in his hall of audience, which, outside, is nothing but a large shed, erected on piles, but within decorated with taste. Chairs were arranged on either side of the ruler, who occupied the head seat. Our party were placed on one hand, and on the other sat his brother Mahommed, and Makota and some other of the principal chiefs, whilst immediately behind him his twelve younger brothers were seated. The dress of Muda Hassim was simple, but of rich material, and most of the principal men were well, and even superbly dressed. His countenance is plain, but intelligent and highly pleasing, and his manners perfectly easy. His reception was kind, and, I am given to understand, highly flattering. We sat, however, trammelled by the formalities of state, and our conversation did not extend beyond kind inquiries and professions of friendship.’ Brooke’s next interview was more informal, and closer relations were established, which encouraged him to send his interpreter, Mr Williamson, to ask permission to visit the Dyaks. This was readily granted, but before commencing his explorations, he received a private visit from Pangeran Makota. He was probably the most intelligent Malay whom we ever met in Borneo, frank and open in manner, but looked upon as the most cunning of the rajah’s advisers. He was much puzzled, as were indeed all the nobles, as to the true object of Brooke’s visit to Borneo, and confident in his power, determined to find it out. And though Brooke had in reality no object but geographical discovery, he could not convince his guest of that fact, who scented some deep intrigue under the guise of a harmless visit.

Brooke now took advantage of the rajah’s permission to explore some of the neighbouring rivers, and he was shown first the fine agricultural district of Samarahan, but only met Malays. His next visit was to the Dyak tribe of Sibuyows, who lived on the river Lundu, which discharged its waters not many miles from Cape Datu, the southern boundary of Borneo proper.

From Tanjong Datu, as far as the river Rejang, the interior populations are called Dyaks—Land or Sea Dyaks—the former, a quiet, agricultural people, living in the far interior, plundered and oppressed by the Malays; they are to be found in Sarawak, Samarahan and Sadong. The Sea Dyaks were much more numerous, and though under the influence of the Malays and Arab adventurers, were too powerful ever to be ill-treated. They occupied the districts of Seribas and Batang Lupar, and those on the left bank of the Rejang, with a few scattered villages in other parts, such as this Sibuyow tribe on the Lundu.

The chief of this branch of the Sea Dyaks, the Orang Kaya Tumangong, was always a great favourite of the English officers in Sarawak. His was the first tribe that Brooke visited, and he then formed a high opinion of the brave man and his gallant sons, who were faithful unto death, and who were always the foremost when any fighting was on hand.

The village they occupied was, in fact, but one huge house, nearly six hundred feet in length, and the inner half divided into fifty separate residences for the fifty families that constituted the tribe. The front half of this long building was an open space, which was used by the inhabitants during the day for every species of work, and at night was occupied by the widowers, bachelors and boys as their bedroom. The Sea Dyaks are much cleaner than the Land Dyaks, and the girls of Sakarang, for instance, looked as well washed as any of their sisters in May Fair.

The distinction of Land and Sea Dyaks was due to the fact that the former never ventured near the salt water, whilst the latter boldly pushed out to sea in their light bangkongs or war boats, and cruised along at least two thousand miles of coast. When the Royalist first arrived in Sarawak the majority of the Sea Dyaks were piratically inclined. This practice arose in all probability from their inter-tribal wars—the Seribas against the Lingas and Sibuyows—and from their custom of seeking heads—almost a religious observance. When a party of young men went out to search for the means of marrying, and had failed to secure the heads of enemies, we can easily imagine their not being too particular about killing any weaker party they might meet, even if they were not enemies, and, finding it met with no retaliation, continuing the practice. In this they were encouraged by the Malay chiefs who lived among them, and who obtained, on easy terms, the women and children captives who fell into the hands of the Dyak raiders. Although the Linga and Sibuyow branches of the Sea Dyaks hunted for heads, they were the heads of their enemies, whilst the Seribas, and, in a lesser degree, the Sea Dyaks of the Sakarang and the Rejang spared no one they could overcome.

Brooke’s next visit was to the river Sadong, to the north-east of Sarawak, and there he met Sherif Sahib, a great encourager of piracy of every kind. Sometimes he received the Lanuns,[5] the boldest marauders who ever invested the Far Eastern seas, bought their captives and supplied them with food, whilst at others he would aid the Seribas and Sakarangs in their forays on the almost defenceless tribes of the interior, or share their plunder acquired on the coasts of the Dutch possessions.

Finding that the rebellion in the interior of the Sarawak would prevent him from visiting it, Brooke decided to return to Singapore. After a friendly parting with Muda Hassim, whose last words were, ‘Do not forget me,’ the Royalist fell down the river. The night before Brooke had settled to sail he was joined by a small Sarawak boat with a dozen men, who were to pilot him out; but about midnight shouts were heard from the shore of ‘Dyak! Dyak’! In an instant a blue light was burnt on board the yacht and a gun fired, and then there came a dead silence. Brooke sprang into a boat and pushed off to the Malay prahu, to find half the crew wounded. It seemed that a cruising party of Seribas Dyaks had no doubt seen the fire lighted on the shore, and had noiselessly floated up with the flood tide and attacked the Malays, not observing in the dark night the Royalist at anchor. This occurrence showed how necessary it was to be on one’s guard at all times.

The news brought by Brooke was well received in Singapore, as it opened up a new country to British commerce, and prevented the Dutch gaining a footing there, with their vexatious trade regulations, which practically debarred native vessels from visiting British ports.

As the Rajah Muda Hassim had assured his English visitor that the rebellion in the interior of Sarawak would collapse before the next fine season, he decided to pass the interval in visiting Celebes, a most attractive island, then but imperfectly known.

No part of Brooke’s journals is more interesting than the account of his experiences in Bugis land. They are, however, simple travels, without many personal incidents to be noted; but here, as elsewhere, he acquired the same ascendency over the natives, and the memory of his visit remained impressed on the minds of the Bugis rulers, who followed his advice in regulating their kingdoms, and especially listened to his counsels when he pointed out the danger of entering into armed conflict with their Dutch neighbours.

The following observations extracted from Brooke’s journals are remarkable: ‘I must mention the effect of European domination in the Archipelago. The first voyagers from the West found the natives rich and powerful, with strong established governments and a thriving trade. The rapacious European has reduced them to their present position. Their governments have been broken up, the old states decomposed by treachery, bribery and intrigue, their possessions snatched from them under flimsy pretences, their trade restricted, their vices encouraged, their virtues repressed, and their energies paralysed or rendered desperate, till there is every reason to fear the gradual extinction of the Malay. Let these considerations, fairly reflected on and enlarged, be presented to the candid and liberal mind, and I think that, however strong the present prepossessions, they will shake the belief in the advantages to be gained by European ascendency, as it has heretofore been conducted, and will convince the most sceptical of the miseries immediately and prospectively flowing from European rule as generally constituted.’

The above observations naturally apply to the Dutch and Spanish systems, which at that time alone had sway in the Archipelago, as England, with its small trading depots, did not actively interfere with the native princes. Yet it must be confessed that Borneo proper, which had generally escaped interference from their European neighbours, fell from a position fairly important to the most degraded state, entirely owing to the incapacity of its native rulers and not to outside influences.

The visits to Sarawak and Celebes tended to confirm Brooke’s convictions that, if England would but act on a settled plan and on a sufficient scale, she could still save and develop the independent native states, without any necessity of occupying them.

In the year 1776 the Sultan of Sulu ceded to England all his possessions in the north of Borneo, and the East India Company formed a small settlement on the Island of Balambangan; this being on a very inefficient scale, was easily surprised by pirates and destroyed. Later on another attempt was made by the Company to establish themselves on the island, but it was soon abandoned.

Brooke, after carefully studying the subject, came to the same conclusion as Sir Stamford Raffles and Colonel Farquhar had done before him, that it was a mistake to take small islands; but that, on the contrary, this country should establish a settlement on the mainland of Borneo. As all the independent states of the Archipelago are filled with a maritime population, islands are not so safe from attack as the mainland, where the interior population is rarely warlike. He recommended that England should take possession of Marudu Bay, establish herself strongly there, be constantly supported by the navy, and from thence the Governor, with diplomatic powers, could visit all the independent chiefs and make such treaties with them as would prevent their being absorbed by other European States. His policy was of the most liberal kind; he would have sought no exclusive trade privileges, but he would have preserved their political independence. He would have established in the more important states carefully-selected English agents, to encourage the chiefs in useful reforms and to prevent restrictions on commerce. On the mainland he would not have instantly established English rule, except in a well-chosen, central spot, and there he would have awaited the invitation of the chiefs to send an English officer to aid them in governing.

Had this great plan been executed on a suitable scale Brooke’s name would have been enshrined among the greatest builders of the British Empire. It is not too late even now; but where shall we find another Brooke to carry it out? North Borneo is at present under the protection of Great Britain, but it is owned and administered by a Chartered Company, and in these days cannot, under such conditions, hold the same position as a Crown colony.

The time seems propitious. The Spaniards have lost their hold over the Philippines, and Sulu and the great island of Mindanau will soon be free from their depressing influence; even the Dutch are acting on a more enlightened system, which would be encouraged, if England took an active interest in the Archipelago. The North Borneo Company would scarcely refuse a proposal to place the country under our direct rule, and with another Sir Hugh Low it might be made a valuable possession, and would gradually dominate the whole of the Archipelago.

The Philippines will now be governed by one of the most progressive nations in the world, and the effect of their rule will be far-reaching. It would appear to be advisable that Great Britain should simultaneously take over North Borneo, as the conditions heretofore existing have so completely changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Panglima Rajah, the day after our guns were in battery, took it into his head to build a fort on the river’s side, close to the town in front, and between two of the enemy’s forts. It was a bold undertaking for the old man after six weeks of uninterrupted repose. At night, the wood being prepared, the party moved down, and worked so silently that they were not discovered till their defence was nearly finished, when the enemy commenced a general firing from all their forts, returned by a similar firing from all ours, none of the parties being quite clear what they were firing at or about, and the hottest from either party being equally harmless. We were at the time about going to bed in our habitation, but expecting some reverse I set off to the stockade where our guns were placed, and opened a fire upon the town and the stockade near us, till the enemy’s fire gradually slackened and died away. We then returned, and in the morning were greeted with the pleasing news that they had burned and deserted five of their forts, and left us sole occupants of the left bank of the river. The same day, going through the jungle to see one of these deserted forts, we came upon a party of the enemy, and had a brief skirmish with them before they took to flight. Nothing can be more unpleasant to a European than this bush-fighting, where he scarce sees a foe, whilst he is well aware that their eyesight is far superior to his own. To proceed with this narrative, I may say that four or five forts were built on the edge of the river opposite the enemy’s town, and distant not above fifty or sixty yards. Here our guns were removed, and a fresh battery formed ready for a bombardment, and fire-balls essayed to ignite the houses.

‘At this time Sherif Jaffer, from Linga, arrived with about seventy men, Malays and Dyaks of Balow. The river Linga, being situated close to Seribas, and incessant hostilities being waged between the two places, he and his followers were both more active and warlike than the Borneans; but their warfare consists of closing hand to hand with spear and sword. They scarcely understood the proper use of firearms, and were of little use in attacking stockades. As a negotiator, however, the Sherif bore a distinguished part; and on his arrival a parley ensued, much against Makota’s will, and some meetings took place between Jaffer and a brother Sherif at Siniawan, named Moksain. After ten days’ delay nothing came of it, though the enemy betrayed great desire to yield. This negotiation being at an end, we had a day’s bombardment, and a fresh treaty brought about thus: Makota being absent in Sarawak, I received a message from Sherif Jaffer and Pangeran Subtu to say that they wished to meet me; and on my consenting they stated that Sherif Jaffer felt confident the war might be brought to an end, though alone he dared not treat with the rebels; but, in case I felt inclined to join him, we could bring it to a favourable conclusion. I replied that our habits of treating were very unlike their own, as we allowed no delays to interpose; but that I would unite with him for one interview, and if that interview was favourable we might meet the chiefs at once and settle it, or put an end to all further treating. Pangeran Subtu was delighted with the proposition, urged its great advantages, and the meeting, by my desire, was fixed for that very night, the place Pangeran Illudin’s fort at Sekundis. The evening arrived, and at dark we were at the appointed place and a message was despatched for Sherif Moksain. In the meantime, however, came a man from Pangeran Subtu to beg us to hold no intercourse; that the rebels were false, meant to deceive us, and if they did come we had better make them prisoners. Sherif Jaffer, after arguing the point some time, rose to depart, remarking that with such proceedings he would not consent to treat. I urged him to stay, but finding him bent on going I ordered my gig (which had some time before been brought overland) to be put into the water—my intention being to proceed to the enemy’s kampong and hear what they had to say. I added that it was folly to leave undone what we had agreed to do in the morning because Pangeran Subtu changed his mind; that I had come to treat, and treat I would. I would not go away now without giving the enemy a fair hearing. For the good of all parties I would do it—and if the Sherif liked to join me, as we proposed before, and wait for Sherif Moksain, good; if not, I would go in the boat to the kampong. My Europeans, on being ordered, jumped up, ran out and brought the boat to the water’s edge and in a few minutes oars, rudder and rowlocks were in her. My companions, seeing this, came to terms, and we waited for Sherif Moksain, during which, however, I overheard a whispering conversation from Subtu’s messenger, proposing to seize him, and my temper was ruffled to such a degree, that I drew out a pistol, and told him I would shoot him dead if he dared to seize, or talk of seizing, any man who trusted himself from the enemy to meet me. The scoundrel slunk off, and we were no more troubled with him. This past, Sherif Moksain arrived, and was introduced into our fortress alone—alone and unarmed in an enemy’s stockade, manned with two hundred men. His bearing was firm; he advanced with ease and took his seat, and during the interview the only sign of uneasiness was the quick glance of his eye from side to side. The object he aimed at was to gain my guarantee that the lives of all the rebels should be spared, but this I had not in my power to grant. He returned to his kampong, and came again towards morning, when it was agreed that Sherif Jaffer and myself should meet the Patingis and the Tumangong, and arrange terms with them. By the time our conference was over the day broke, and we descended to our boats to have a little rest.

‘On the 20th December we met the chiefs on the river, and they expressed themselves ready to yield, without conditions, to the rajah, if I would promise that they should not be put to death. My reply was that I could give no such promise; but if they surrendered, it must be for life or death, according to the rajah’s pleasure, and all I could do was to use my influence to save their lives. To this they assented after a while; but then there arose the more difficult question, how they were to be protected until the rajah’s orders arrived. They dreaded both Chinese and Malays, especially the former, who had just cause for angry feelings, and who, it was feared, would make an attack on them directly their surrender had taken from them their means of defence. The Malays would not assail them in a body, but would individually plunder them, and give occasion for disputes and bloodshed. Their apprehensions were almost sufficient to break off the hitherto favourable negotiations, had I not proposed to them myself to undertake their defence, and to become responsible for their safety until the orders of their sovereign arrived. On my pledging myself to this they yielded up their strong fort of Balidah, the key of their position. I immediately made it known to our own party that no boats were to ascend or descend the river, and that any person attacking or pillaging the rebels were my enemies, and that I should fire upon them without hesitation.

‘Both Chinese and Malays agreed to the propriety of the measure, and gave me the strongest assurances of restraining their respective followers; the former with good faith, the latter with the intention of involving matters, if possible, to the destruction of the rebels. By the evening we were in possession of Balidah, and certainly found it a formidable fortress, situated on a steep mound, with dense defences of wood, triple deep, and surrounded by two enclosures, thickly studded on the outside with ranjaus. The effect of our fire had shaken it completely, now much to our discomfort, for the walls were tottering and the roof as leaky as a sieve. On the 20th December, then, the war closed. The very next day, contrary to stipulation, the Malay pangerans tried to ascend the river, and when stopped began to expostulate. After preventing many, the attempt was made by Subtu and Pangeran Hassim in three large boats, boldly pulling towards us. Three hails did not check them, and they came on, in spite of a blank cartridge and a wide ball to turn them back. But I was resolved, and when a dozen musket balls whistled over and fell close around them, they took to an ignominious flight. I subsequently upbraided them for this breach of promise, and Makota loudly declared they had been greatly to blame, but I discovered that he himself had set them on.

‘I may now briefly conclude these details. I ordered the rebels to burn all their stockades, which they did at once, and deliver up the greater part of their arms, and I proceeded to the rajah to request from him their lives. Those who know the Malay character will appreciate the difficulty of the attempt to stand between the monarch and his victims. I only succeeded when, at the end of a long debate—I soliciting, he denying—I rose to bid him farewell, as it was my intention to sail directly, since, after all my exertions in his cause he would not grant me the lives of the people, I could only consider that his friendship for me was at an end. On this he yielded. I must own that during the discussion he had much the best of it; for he urged that they had forfeited their lives by the law, as a necessary sacrifice to the future peace of the country; and argued that in a similar case in my own native land no leniency would be shown. On the contrary, my reasoning, though personal, was, on the whole, the best for the rajah and the people. I explained my extreme reluctance to have the blood of conquered foes shed; the shame I should experience in being a party, however involuntarily, to their execution, and the general advantage of a merciful line of policy. At the same time I told him that their lives were forfeited, their crimes had been of a heinous and unpardonable nature, and that it was only from so humane a man as himself, one with so kind a heart, that I could ask for their pardon; but, I added, he well knew that it was only my previous knowledge of his benevolent disposition, and the great friendship I felt for him, which had induced me to take any part in the struggle. Other stronger reasons might have been brought forward, which I forbore to employ, as being repugnant to his princely pride, viz., that severity in this case would arm many against him, raise powerful enemies in Borneo proper, as well as here, and greatly impede the future right government of the country. However, having gained my point, I was satisfied.

‘Having fulfilled this engagement, and being, moreover, with many of my Europeans, attacked with ague, I left the scene with all the dignity of complete success. Subsequently the rebels were ordered to deliver up all their arms, ammunition and property; and last, the wives and children of the principal people were demanded as hostages and obtained. The women and children were treated with kindness and preserved from injury or wrong. Siniawan thus dwindled away. The poorer men stole off in canoes, and were scattered about, most of them coming to Kuching. The better class pulled down the houses, abandoned the town and lived in boats for a month when, alarmed by the delay in settling terms and impelled by hunger, they also fled—Patingi Gapoor, it was said, to Sambas, and Patingi Ali and the Tumangong amongst the Dyaks. After a time it was supposed they would return and receive their wives and children. The army gradually dispersed to seek food, and the Chinese were left in possession of the once renowned Siniawan, the ruin of which they completed by burning all that remained and erecting a village for themselves in the immediate neighbourhood. Sherif Jaffer and many others departed to their respective homes, and the pinching of famine succeeded to the horrors of war. Fruit, being in season, helped to support the wretched people, and the near approach of the rice harvest kept up their spirits.’

Thus ended the great civil war, which is so renowned in local history. The three chiefs mentioned—Patingi Gapoor, Patingi Ali and the Tumangong—with their sons and relatives, will appear again as some of the principal actors in the history of Sarawak. All except Patingi Gapoor remained faithful to the end, or are still among the main supports of the present Government. I knew them all, with the exception of Patingi Ali, who was killed whilst gallantly heading an attack on the Sakarang pirates during Captain Keppel’s expedition in 1844.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] See Appendix.

[4] I knew one of them, Subu, the favourite of every foreigner in Sarawak.

[5] The Lanuns came from the great island of Mindanau, in the Southern Philippines, which was a nominal possession of Spain, and cruised in well-armed vessels.

[6] Voyage of the Dido, Vol. I., page 172, et seq.

CHAPTER III

THIRD VISIT TO SARAWAK—MAKOTA INTRIGUES AGAINST BROOKE—VISIT OF THE STEAMER ‘DIANA’—HE IS GRANTED THE GOVERNMENT OF SARAWAK—HIS PALACE—CAPTAIN KEPPEL OF H.M.S. ‘DIDO’ VISITS SARAWAK—EXPEDITION AGAINST THE SERIBAS PIRATES—VISIT OF SIR EDWARD BELCHER—RAJAH BROOKE’S INCREASED INFLUENCE—VISIT TO THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS—IS WOUNDED IN SUMATRA—THE ‘DIDO’ RETURNS TO SARAWAK—FURTHER OPERATIONS—NEGOTIATIONS WITH BRITISH GOVERNMENT—CAPTAIN BETHUNE AND MR WISE ARRIVE IN SARAWAK

Peace being again restored to the country, Brooke was enabled to study the position. Muda Hassim occasionally mentioned his intention of rewarding his English ally for his great services by giving him the government of Sarawak; but nothing came of it, as when the document for submission to the Sultan was duly prepared it proved to be nothing but ‘permission to trade.’ However unsatisfactory this might be, Brooke accepted it for the moment, and it was agreed that he should proceed to Singapore, load a schooner with merchandise, and return to open up the resources of the place. In the meantime the rajah was to build a house for his friend, and prepare a shipload of antimony ore as a return cargo for the schooner.

While in Singapore Brooke wrote to his mother concerning his plans, and he now added, ‘I really have excellent hopes that this effort of mine will succeed; and while it ameliorates the condition of the unhappy natives, and tends to the promotion of the highest philanthropy, it will secure to me some better means of carrying through these grand objects. I call them grand objects, for they are so, when we reflect that civilisation, commerce and religion may through them be spread over so vast an island as Borneo. They are so grand, that self is quite lost when I consider them; and even the failure would be so much better than the non-attempt, that I could willingly sacrifice myself as nearly as the barest prudence will permit.’

Many, perhaps, could write such words, but Brooke really felt them, and fully intended to carry out his views, whatever obstacles might stand in his way; and they were many, for on his return to Sarawak in the Royalist, with the schooner Swift laden with goods for the market, he found no house built and no cargo of antimony ready. A house in Sarawak could be built in ten days or a fortnight, as the materials are all found in the jungle and the natives are expert at the work.

The antimony was procurable, but, as Brooke afterwards found, it was the product of forced labour, almost always unpaid. One cannot but smile at Brooke’s first attempt at trade. Without sending up to see whether the antimony was ready, he accepted Muda Hassim’s word, and then handed over to him the whole of the cargo of the Swift. What might have been expected followed. No sooner had the Malay rajah secured the goods than the most profound apathy was shown as to the return cargo. The same system was followed with regard to the government of the country; every attempt to discuss it was evaded, and I believe that Makota did his best to persuade Muda Hassim that the Englishman was but a bird of passage, who would soon get tired of waiting, and would sail away without the return cargo, and drop all thoughts of governing the country.

Pangeran Makota, who had been Brooke’s enemy throughout all these proceedings, was now ready to act. He knew that the Land Dyaks in the interior, as well as the Malays of Siniawan whom the Englishman had aided to subdue, now looked to him as their protector; he therefore determined to destroy his prestige. He invited the Seribas Sea Dyaks and Malays to come to Sarawak; they came in a hundred bangkongs, or long war boats, with at least three thousand men, with the ostensible object of attacking a tribe living near the Sambas frontier, who had not been submissive enough to Bornean exactions; but every violent act they committed would have been overlooked if they only gave a sufficient percentage of their captives to the nobles. Already these wild devils had received the rajah’s permission to proceed up the river; the Land Dyaks, the Malays, the Chinese were full of fear, as all are treated as enemies by the Seribas when out on the war-path. As soon as Brooke received notice of what Muda Hassim, instigated by Makota, had done, he retired to the Royalist and prepared both his vessels for action. The Malay rulers, hearing how angry he was, and uncertain what steps he might take, recalled the expedition, which returned, furious at being baulked of their prey, and would have liked to have tried conclusions with the English ships, but found them too well on their guard.

This very act which Makota expected would lower the Englishman’s prestige, naturally greatly enhanced it, as it was soon known, even into the far interior, that the white stranger had but to say the word and this fearful scourge had been stayed.

Another event soon followed which greatly raised Brooke’s influence among the natives. He received notice that an English vessel had been wrecked on the north coast of Borneo, and that the crew were detained as hostages by the Sultan of Borneo for the payment of a ransom. He now sent the Royalist to try and release them, whilst he despatched the Swift to Singapore for provisions, and remained with three companions in his new house in Sarawak. Could anything better prove his cool courage? The Royalist failed in its mission, but almost immediately after its return, an East India Company’s steamer came up the river to inquire as to its success, and finding the captive crew still at Brunei, proceeded there and quickly effected their release. The appearance of the Diana twice in the river had its effect on the population, as it was probably the first steamer they had ever seen.

Makota had been greatly disappointed that his intrigues had failed to force the white strangers to quit the country, but his fertile invention now thought of more sure and criminal means. ‘Why not poison them?’ He tried, but failed; his confederates confessed, and then Brooke resolved to act. Either Makota or himself must fall. By a judicious display of force, quite justified under the circumstances, he freed the rajah from the baneful influence of Makota, who from that time forward ceased to act as chief adviser, and regained his former ascendency. Muda Hassim immediately carried out his original promise, and in a formal document handed over the government of the district of Sarawak to Brooke. The news was received with rejoicing by the Land Dyaks, the Sarawak Malays and the Chinese, but with some misgivings by the rascally followers of the Bornean rajahs. This event took place in September 1841.

Brooke’s first act was to request Muda Hassim to return to their families the women and children who had been given as hostages after the close of the civil war. He succeeded in most cases, but as the younger brothers of Muda Hassim had honoured with their notice some of the unmarried girls, he was forced to leave ten of them in the harems of the rajahs.

Being now Governor of Sarawak, he determined to effect some reforms. One of the greatest difficulties he encountered was the introduction of impartial justice; to teach the various classes that all were equal before the law. He opened a court, at which he himself provided, aided moreover, by some of the rajah’s brothers and the chiefs of the Siniawan Malays, and dispensed justice according to the native laws, which in most cases are milder than those of European countries. When absent himself his chief officer acted for him. As long as these laws were only applied to Dyaks, Chinese or inferior Malays, there was no resistance, but when the privileged class and their unscrupulous followers were touched, there arose some murmurings.

SARAWAK AND DEPENDENCIES

MAP OF SARAWAK AND ITS DEPENDENCIES AT THE CLOSE OF SIR JAMES BROOKE’S GOVERNMENT.

Brooke saw at once that to ensure stability to his rule he must govern the people through, and with the aid of, the chiefs to whom they were accustomed. He therefore proposed to Muda Hassim to restore to their former positions the men who had been at the head of the late rebellion, and who certainly had been more sinned against than sinning. To this the rajah agreed, which added much to the Englishman’s influence, not only among the Malays, but also among the Dyaks, who were accustomed to be ruled and, it must be confessed, to be plundered by these chiefs. But the tribes thought that it was better to pay exactions to one than to be exposed to the persecutions of many.

Although Muda Hassim had made over to Brooke the government of the country, it was necessary that this grant should be ratified by the Sultan. Brooke therefore proceeded to Brunei in the Royalist, accompanied by Pangeran Budrudin. It was also very necessary to pave the way for Muda Hassim’s return to the capital, with his rapacious followers, before Sarawak could really prosper. Everything succeeded; the Sultan not only ratified the grant, but sent a strong invitation to his uncle to return to his old position of being the prime minister, whose absence they all deplored. His Highness sent letters to that effect, and when the Royalist arrived at Sarawak there was very general rejoicing.

The greatest state was observed when the Sultan’s letters were taken on shore. ‘They were received and brought up to the reception hall amid large wax torches. The person who was to read them was stationed on a raised platform. Standing near him was the Rajah Muda Hassim, with a sabre in his hand; in front was his brother Jaffer with a tremendous Lanun sword drawn; and around were the other brothers and myself, all standing, the rest of the company being seated. The letters were then read—the last one appointing me to hold the government of Sarawak—after which the rajah descended from the platform and said aloud, “If anyone present disowns or contests the Sultan’s appointment, let him now declare it.” All were silent. “Is there any pangeran or young rajah that contests the question? Pangeran Der Makota, what do you say?” Makota expressed his willingness to obey. One or two other obnoxious pangerans, who had always opposed themselves to me, were each in turn challenged, and forced to promise obedience. The rajah then waved his sword, and with a loud voice exclaimed, “Whoever he may be that disobeys the Sultan’s mandate now received, I will cleave his skull.” And at the moment some ten of his younger brothers jumped from the verandah, and drawing their long krises, began to flourish and dance about, thrusting close to Makota, striking the pillar above his head, and pointing their weapons at his breast. A motion on his part would have been fatal, but he kept his eyes on the ground and stirred not. I too remained quiet, and cared nothing about this demonstration, for one gets accustomed to these things. It all passed off, and in ten minutes the men who had been leaping frantically about, with drawn weapons and inflamed countenances, were seated, quiet and demure as usual. This scene is a custom with them, the only exception being that it was pointed so directly at Makota.’

This unworthy chief was now ordered to leave the country, as his presence was not only distasteful to the Tuan Besar, as Brooke was called, but to all those whom he had driven, by his oppressions, into the rebellion which had lately been quelled. The Bornean rajahs also looked upon him as an interloper, and he found no support from them; he was said, in fact, to be a stranger from the Dutch ‘sphere of influence,’ as it is now the fashion to call possession without occupation.

A new era was about to dawn on Sarawak by the advent of the British navy. Before dwelling on the change which took place in consequence, let me glance briefly at Brooke’s position. He had been granted the government of the country by Rajah Muda Hassim, a grant confirmed by the Sultan; he had gained the confidence of the former, who leaned on him for support, and who hoped through his influence to recover his former paramount position in the capital; he was cordially supported by the Siniawan Malays, and was fully trusted by the Land Dyaks. He was also aided to a certain extent by those useful but troublesome subjects the Chinese, who then only dreamt of making themselves supreme in the interior. He was supported by three English followers, and the occasional presence of his yacht, the Royalist. How was it possible for anyone, therefore, to declare that he had seized the country by force, and held it by force, as was afterwards affirmed by a small English faction? His only enemies were Pangeran Makota and a few discontented Borneans, who dreaded the reign of justice and order. Though secure of the support of the inhabitants of Sarawak, he was opposed by his neighbour the Sultan of Sambas, backed by the Dutch, and he had the mouths of his rivers almost blockaded during eight months of the year by the fleets of Lanun and Balignini pirates who cruised along the coast during the fine season. His people were also in constant peril from the expeditions organised by Sherif Sahib, the chief of the neighbouring district of Sadong, the rendezvous of every species of pirate; and all coast trade was stopped by the constant presence of the Seribas and Sakarang Dyaks, led by their warlike Malays, who foraged along the whole western coast of Borneo. He was saved simply by his great prestige, as he had in reality no force with which he could cope with a large pirate fleet—a prestige acquired by his bravery, his tact, his great kindness, and the just and benevolent rule which he was striving with all his energy to introduce into his adopted country.

And what were his chief objects? How well the following lines express them: ‘It is a grand experiment, which, if it succeeds, will bestow a blessing on those poor people, and their children’s children will bless my name.’ Again, ‘If it please God to permit me to give a stamp to this country which shall last after I am no more, I shall have lived a life which emperors might envy. If by dedicating myself to the task I am able to introduce better customs and settled laws, and to raise the feeling of the people, so that their rights can never in future he wantonly infringed, I shall indeed be content and happy.’

This is how the Rajah describes his residence and mode of life at Kuching: ‘I may now mention our house, or, as I fondly call it, our palace. It is an edifice fifty-four feet square, mounted on numerous posts of the nibong palm, with nine windows in each front. The roof is of nipa leaves, and the floors and partitions are all of planks. Furnished with couches, table, chairs, books, etc., the whole is as comfortable as man could wish for in this out-of-the-way country; and we have besides bathing-house, cook-house and servants’ apartments detached. The view from the house to the eastward comprises a reach of the river, and to the westward looks towards the blue mountains of Matang; the north fronts the river and the south the jungle. Our abode, however, though spacious, cool and comfortable, can only be considered a temporary residence, for the best of all reasons, that in the course of a year it will tumble down, from the weight of the superstructure being placed on weak posts.

‘The time here passes monotonously, but not unpleasantly. Writing, reading, chart-making employ my time between meals. My companions are equally engaged—Mackenzie[7] with copying logs, learning navigation and stuffing specimens of natural history; Crymble is teaching our young Bugis and Dyak boys their letters for an hour every morning, copying my vocabularies of languages, ruling charts and the like; whilst my servant Peter learns reading and writing daily, with very poor success, however. Our meals are about nine in the morning and four in the afternoon, with a cup of tea at eight. The evening is employed in walking never less than a mile and a half measured distance, and, after tea, reading and a cigar. Wine and grog we have none, and all appear better for it, or, at least, I can say so much for myself. Our bedtime is about eleven.’

In 1843, after an almost unbroken stay of nearly two years in Borneo, Brooke again visited Singapore, and found welcome news. The British Government had decided to inquire into the Bornean question, and it was stated that Sir Edward Belcher had been ordered to visit Sarawak in H.M.S. Samarang; but what was of much greater importance, and proved of incalculable benefit to Sarawak and to British interests in Borneo, was that Brooke made the acquaintance of Captain the Hon. Henry Keppel, who was in command of H.M.S. Dido. As I have elsewhere remarked, Keppel, with the instincts of a gentleman, at once recognised that he had no adventurer but a true man before him, and henceforward exerted all his energy and influence to further his friend’s beneficent projects. They were indeed genuine Englishmen, and looked to what would advance the veritable interests of their own country—to increase its prestige in Borneo and clear the seas of the pirates who destroyed native commerce on its way to our settlements.

The Dido in the first days of May 1843 sailed from Singapore for Sarawak, and on the 13th anchored off the Moratabus entrance of the river. When the natives heard that their Governor had arrived, they swarmed down to the ship in their boats, delighted at his return among them; and the sight of the beautiful frigate, so powerful in their eyes, assured them that she would not leave before some measures had been taken against the pirates. Rajah Muda Hassim eagerly seized on this opportunity to obtain some security for native trade, and earnestly entreated Captain Keppel to attack the pirates of Seribas and Sakarang, who were especially dangerous to the coast traffic. Having satisfied himself of the truth of the allegations against the marauders, Keppel determined to act, and, having announced his intention, he was soon assured of the support of a native contingent, who decided to follow their English chief wherever he went, although with many misgivings as to the result of an attack on these much-feared corsairs, who had plundered their coasts with impunity for several generations.

I need not describe this expedition against the pirates, as the details have been often published; and as Admiral Keppel is now engaged in writing his memoirs, we shall have full particulars at first hand.[8] The Dido anchored off the Seribas river, and being joined by a native force of five hundred men, the English boats put off with crews of about eighty seamen and marines, and carried in the most dashing style every fort or obstruction placed in their way. No obstacles daunted them, and their enemies, numbering many thousands on each branch of the river, were so astonished by this novel mode of fighting in the open that they fled on every occasion, abandoning their towns and forts, which were promptly destroyed by our native allies, now trebled in number. The Seribas considered themselves invincible, and had collected their means of resistance in well-chosen spots, their guns covering the booms across the river, but to no purpose, and the towns of Paku, Padi and Rembas all shared the same fate.

It is a very remarkable circumstance that as soon as each section recognised the hopelessness of resistance, they entered freely into communication with their assailants, and under cover of the white flag, and often unarmed, approached their English conquerors with perfect trust and confidence. They all agreed to visit Sarawak, and promised amendment for the future.

The complete collapse of the defence astonished everyone, and those natives who had taken part in this memorable campaign began to acquire confidence in themselves, and were ever ready to follow their white leaders in all future expeditions.

Captain Keppel, in his Voyage of the Dido, has given us a very good account of the house in which Mr Brooke lived in 1843, and of which I have already introduced its occupant’s own description. Captain Keppel says that the English Rajah’s residence, although equally rude in structure with the abodes of the natives, was not without its English comforts of sofas, chairs and bedsteads. It was larger than any other house in the place, but, like them, was built on nibong piles, and to enter it it was necessary to make use of a ladder. The house consisted of but one floor; a large room in the centre, neatly ornamented with every description of firearms in admirable order and ready for use, served as audience hall and mess room, and the various apartments around it as bedrooms, most of them comfortably furnished with matted floors, easy-chairs, pictures and books, with much more taste and attention to comfort than bachelors usually display. But, the fact is, you could never enter any place where Brooke had passed a few days without being struck by the artistic arrangement of everything. His good taste was shown even in trifles, though comfort was never sacrificed to show. The house was surrounded by palisades and a ditch, forming an enclosure, in which were to be found sheep, goats, pigeons, cats, poultry, geese, ducks, monkeys, dogs, and occasionally a cow or two.

Then, as later, the great hour of meeting was sunset, when, after the preliminary cold bath to brace the nerves, relaxed by the heat of the day, all the party met to dine. When Keppel was at Kuching all the officers of the Dido were welcome, and many a merry evening was passed at Brooke’s house. I have often heard him speak of that glorious time. Then the future was all hope, no disappointments had depressed the mind, and the cheerfulness of the host was infectious. I have never met anyone who in his playful mood was more charming. He told a story well, he was animated in discussion, fertile in resource, and, when beaten in argument, would shift his ground with great dexterity, and keep up the discussion to the entertainment of us all. An appreciative observer once wrote, ‘The Rajah has certainly a most uncommon gift of fluency of language. Every subject derives an additional interest from his mode of discussing it, and his ideas are so original that to hear him speak is like opening out a new world before one. His views about Sarawak are so grand that it is with real pain one thinks how very little has been done to aid him in his noble efforts.’ Captain Keppel was also a capital storyteller, so that between the two, with occasional assistance from the others, the time passed gaily, and it was often well on in the small hours before the party broke up.

It was a great disappointment to all that Captain Keppel now received orders to proceed to China, as he had intended before his departure to complete his work by attacking the Sakarangs, who lived in the interior of the Batang Lupar river, and who were powerfully supported by Arab and Malay chiefs.

The next event of importance was the arrival of Sir Edward Belcher in H.M.S. Samarang. He had been sent to report on Sarawak and on Bornean affairs in general. He was a clever but very unpopular man, and made his ship the most uncomfortable in the service. After a short stay in Sarawak, visiting the interior and making inquiries, he decided to proceed to Brunei and enter into communication with the Sultan. Brooke was to have accompanied him, but the Samarang had but just started to descend the river when she touched on a rock, and as the tide fell, she turned over on her side and filled with water. It was a misfortune to the ship, but a blessing to Sarawak, as it drew general attention to Brooke’s settlement. By dint of the greatest exertion on the part of officers and crew, and the aid afforded by the native population, within eleven days the vessel was again afloat. In the meantime the Royalist had been sent to Singapore for provisions and aid, and before twelve days had elapsed she returned with a ship of war. Others soon followed, to find the Samarang out of all danger. As soon as her refit was completed, she sailed for Brunei with Brooke on board. His friends had pointed out to him that, to render his work in Sarawak permanent, he must obtain a grant in perpetuity from the Government of Brunei, and this he readily secured. Moreover, His Highness the Sultan wrote to Sir Edward Belcher expressing the strong desire of his Government to trade and their wish to co-operate in the suppression of piracy.

Whilst all was proceeding favourably in Borneo, Brooke was much disturbed by the news of the proceedings of Mr Wise, his agent in London. There was no doubt of the talent and earnestness of this man, but those who knew him well felt that he was rather working for his own benefit than for that of his employer. He knew that a true account of the actual state of Sarawak would fail to draw the attention of the mercantile community; he therefore raised false expectations as to the value of the trade which would arise as soon as Borneo was thrown open to British commerce. When Brooke was made aware of this he wrote to his friend Templer, ‘It does appear to me, judging from Mr Wise’s letters and the steps he has taken, that some exaggerated hopes are entertained, and hopes as unreasonable as exaggerated.... In fact, I will become no party to a bubble; or gain, or accept any negotiation from Government upon false grounds’ (sic).

Brooke’s views on the management of a wild country and the only way to develop commerce among savage, and even among half-civilised peoples, were so wise and trustworthy that they would merit being quoted in full did space permit. He was indeed a most sagacious ruler, with a positive instinct as to the manner in which native races should be treated, and he always insisted that progress to be permanent must be slow, and that throwing capital en masse into an undeveloped country would only produce disappointment and loss.

How true is the following: ‘Good temper, good sense and conciliatory manners are essential to the good government of natives, and on this point it is that most Europeans are so grossly wanting. They always take [with them] their own customs, feelings and manners, and in a way force the natives to conform to them, and never give themselves the trouble of ascertaining how far these manners are repugnant to the natives.’ In my long experience I could scarcely name a dozen men whom I have seen treat native races as they should be treated, and most of these were among the devoted followers of Rajah Brooke. His own manners were perfect.

One result of the defeat of the Seribas was the increased influence of the English ruler. Sherif Sahib of Sadong now thought it prudent to return to the Sow tribe of Dyaks fifty of the women and children whom his people had seized, and although this was but an instalment it was something gained.

In a few lines written on November 14, 1843, Brooke sketched the policy which he wished the English Government to pursue. ‘If we act, we ought to act without unnecessary delay. Take Sarawak and Labuan, or Labuan alone, and push our interest along the coast to Sulu, and from Sulu towards New Guinea, gaining an influence with such states (and acquiring dormant rights) as are clear of the Dutch on the one hand and of the Spaniards on the other.’ But this policy was neglected, and to some extent it is now too late to carry it out.

In December 1843 Brooke again visited Singapore, and there he shortly afterwards received news of his mother’s death. Though affectionate to all his relations, his love and tenderness centred in his mother, and her loss was the more acutely felt, as, from a mistaken feeling, the seriousness of her illness had not been reported to him.

Whilst visiting Penang Brooke joined in an expedition to punish some piratical communities on the coast of Sumatra; and as a guest on board H.M.S. Wanderer, he went with the boats that were sent to attack the town of Murdoo. A strong current swept the captain’s gig under an enemy’s stockade. There was no help for it, so Brooke sprang out and led a rush upon the fort, during which he received a gash in the forehead and a shot in the arm. Reinforcements coming up, the place was soon captured. On the return of the expedition to Penang the ship’s crew begged the captain’s permission to man yards and give three cheers for their gallant guest. Here he met Captain Keppel on his way to Calcutta, who promised to pick him up at Singapore on his return and visit Sarawak again, and chastise the pirates of Sakarang. Brooke therefore waited, but was again disappointed, as the Dido was ordered to China, and he had therefore to remain in the Straits until the end of May, when Captain Hastings gave him a passage over to Borneo in the Harlequin.

This long absence had encouraged his enemies, who now hoped that they were free from their troublesome neighbour. Sherif Sahib, however, though boasting as loudly as ever, did not feel secure in Sadong, and therefore prepared his vessels to remove himself and all his immediate following to the interior of the Batang Lupar river, where he would be in touch with the other Arab adventurers who commanded the different districts of that mighty stream. As a defiance to Sarawak, he invited all the Sakarang Dyaks to meet him at the entrance of the Sadong river, and there they rendezvoused to the number of two hundred Dyak bangkongs and Malay war boats. Some mischief was done along the coast, but Brooke surprised one of their expeditions and captured several of their war vessels.

During Brooke’s absence from Sarawak, his new house on the left bank of the river had been built on a rising knoll between two running streams, with the broad river flowing below. It was a pretty spot, and now he could write, ‘I like couches, and flowers, and easy-chairs, and newspapers, and clear streams, and sunny walks.’ Here and there were planted and tended with uncommon care some rose plants, the Rajah’s favourite flower. ‘All breathes of peace and repose, and the very mid-day heat adds to the stillness around me. I love to allow my imagination to wander, and my senses to enjoy such a scene, for it is attended with a pleasing consciousness that the quiet and the peace are my own doing.’

At length, however, the Dido came, accompanied by the Company’s steamer Phlegethon, and it was decided to begin operations by attacking the Arab sherifs in their strongholds on the Batang Lupar river.

The Batang Lupar for the first twenty miles looks a noble stream. About that distance from the mouth occurs the Linga, the first branch of the river which leads to the Balow villages, inhabited by Dyaks under the influence of Sherif Jaffer—the same Dyaks who had joined Keppel’s expedition against the Seribas pirates; they were warlike but not piratical. The next branch on the left bank of the river was the Undup, and then on the right bank the Sakarang, a stream inhabited by a dense population of piratical Dyaks; and about fifteen miles below the mouth of that branch was built the town of Patusin, strongly defended by forts and stockades.

As the arrival of the Dido had been fully expected, the Sarawak preparations for the expedition were well advanced, and in view of Keppel’s triumphs in the previous year, there was no holding back, but all were eager for the fray. Even Pangeran Budrudin was permitted to join the Sarawak contingent—something quite new in the annals of the royal family.

On the 5th of August 1844 the expedition started, and on the 6th was well within the river Batang Lupar. By the 8th all was ready for the attack, and on the rising flood tide the steamer and boats were carried up stream at a bewildering pace, and soon found themselves in face of the town and forts of Patusin. The English boats formed up alongside of the steamer, and pulled to the shore under a very hot fire; but nothing could daunt their crews, and they carried the forts by assault, with the loss of only one English sailor killed and a few wounded. Nor were the natives behindhand; they vied with their white comrades, and were soon in full pursuit of the flying enemy.

In the afternoon the force marched to the attack of a neighbouring town where the chief Sherif Sahib had his residence; but there was no resistance, and the place was soon plundered and destroyed by our native allies. Amongst the spoil captured at Patusin were sixty-four brass guns and a smaller number of iron ones; the latter were thrown into the river. Having completely destroyed these Malay pirate settlements, not forgetting that which had been formed by Pangeran Makota, and handed over to the natives those war boats which would be useful to them, while the remainder were hacked to pieces and burnt, the force prepared for an assault on the Sakarang pirates.

The attack on the Sakarangs was similar in its incidents to that on the Seribas. The river was staked, but nothing could stop the onset of the invaders. The town was taken without much opposition; but the greatest loss on the British side was incurred from the imprudence of a scouting party. Brave old Patingi Ali had been sent ahead to reconnoitre, when, probably urged on by a Mr Stewart, who had been concealed in his boat, he proceeded too far; and when a large force rowed down the river to attack him, he found his retreat cut off by long rafts which had been pushed off from the banks and completely closed the river. He and his party were overwhelmed, and out of seventeen men only one escaped; Mr Stewart was among the killed.

Having completed their work, Captain Keppel and Brooke pulled back to Patusin, where they were joined by Sir Edward Belcher and the boats of the Samarang. They now all returned to Sarawak, but within a few days after their arrival the news came that the Arab chiefs and their followers were collecting at Banting on the Linga, the chief village of the Balow Dyaks, under the protection of Sherif Jaffer. The expedition immediately returned, and drove off the intruders; and Pangeran Budrudin, in the name of the Bornean Government, deposed Sherif Jaffer, and so settled the country, under the advice of Brooke, that comparative peace reigned there for nearly five years.

At this time it was calculated that Sarawak had received an increase of five thousand families, or, more probably, individuals; it was a genuine proof of the confidence of the people of the coast in the only spot where peace and security could be obtained, but it was also a sign of the terror inspired by the piratical fleets, and the general bad government of the districts under the rule of the native chiefs.

The greatest service Sir Edward Belcher ever did for Sarawak was the removal of Muda Hassim to Brunei. He had been long anxious to leave, but he would not do so, except in state. So Sir Edward arranged that not only the rajah and his immense family should be received on board the Company’s steamer the Phlegethon, but as many of his rascally followers as possible; and then, with Brooke on board, the Samarang set sail for Brunei. The expedition was received with some suspicion, but ultimately Muda Hassim and the Sultan were to all appearance reconciled, and the former was restored to his position as prime minister. An offer was made by the Sultan to cede Labuan to England as a British settlement, and that offer was transmitted to the English Government. Labuan is an island off the mouth of the Brunei and neighbouring rivers, which appeared admirably adapted for a commercial and naval post, and the discovery of coal there settled the point.

As soon as Muda Hassim had departed from Sarawak, and Brooke was left, de facto as well as de jure, the only governor, confidence in his remaining in the country grew rapidly, and trade improved. But the negotiations which his friends were carrying on with the British Government moved slowly and drew forth some impatient remarks from him. Henceforth I may occasionally call him the Rajah, par excellence, as he now was in truth the only rajah in Sarawak.

Hearing that some members of Sir Robert Peel’s Government had stated that they did not understand Brooke’s intentions, the Rajah wrote rather indignantly—’December 31, 1844.... I am surprised, however, that they say they do not understand my intentions. Independently of my published letter, I thought they had had my intentions and wishes dinned into them. My intention, my wish, is to develop the island of Borneo. How to develop Borneo is not for me to say, but for them to judge. I have, both by precept and example, shown what can be done; but it is for the Government to judge what means, if any, they will place at my disposal. My intention, my wish, is to extirpate piracy by attacking and breaking up the pirate towns; not only pirates direct, but pirates indirect. Here again the Government must judge. I wish to correct the native character, to gain and hold an influence in Borneo proper, to introduce gradually a better system of government, to open the interior, to encourage the poorer natives, to remove the clogs on trade, to develop new sources of commerce. I wish to make Borneo a second Java. I intend to influence and amend the entire Archipelago, if the Government will afford me means and power. I wish to prevent any foreign nation coming on this field; but I might as well war against France individually, as to attempt all I wish without any means.’

Was this policy not clear enough? Had it been followed, the independent portion of the Eastern Archipelago would have been completely under our influence, and would have ended by becoming practically ours. We should have had New Guinea and the islands adjacent, and thus given the Australians a free hand to develop what certainly should be considered as within their sphere of influence. How the English Rajah’s policy was wrecked, I must explain later on; at this time (1845) all seemed advancing to its fulfilment.

In the meantime the British Government were acting in their usual cautious, half-hearted way. They did not really care a rush about Borneo or the Eastern Archipelago, and I have no doubt that the subordinate members of the Government offices looked with disgust on those who were urging them to intervene in Borneo. They hated any new thing, as it forced them to study and find out what it was all about. But as they could not stand still, they sent out Captain Bethune to inquire. He arrived in February, in H.M.S. Driver, and brought with him the temporary appointment of Brooke as Her Majesty’s confidential agent. This was a distinct advance, as he had now to proceed to the capital to deliver officially a letter from the Queen to the Sultan and the Government of Brunei. With Captain Bethune came Mr Wise, the Rajah’s agent in England.

In Brunei they did not find Muda Hassim’s Government very firmly established, as they were threatened not only by Pangeran Usop, a connection of the Sultan’s and a pretender to the throne, but by the pirates of the north, with whom Usop was in league. During their stay in Brunei, both Brooke and Captain Bethune examined the coal seams near the capital, but they do not appear to have been considered workable, as no one has ever attempted to open a mine there. The quality of the coal has been pronounced good, and as the seams crop out of rather lofty hills it cannot be considered as surface coal.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] He was afterwards killed by Chinese pirates.

[8] Sir Henry Keppel’s Memoirs have lately been published.

CHAPTER IV

SIR THOMAS COCHRANE IN BRUNEI—ATTACK ON SHERIF OSMAN—MUDA HASSIM IN POWER—LINGIRE’S ATTEMPT TO TAKE RAJAH BROOKE’S HEAD—MASSACRE OF MUDA HASSIM AND BUDRUDIN—THE ADMIRAL PROCEEDS TO BRUNEI—TREATY WITH BRUNEI—ACTION WITH PIRATE SQUADRON—RAJAH BROOKE IN ENGLAND—IS KNIGHTED ON HIS RETURN TO THE EAST—VISITS THE SULU ISLANDS—EXPEDITION AGAINST SERIBAS PIRATES

Hearing that Admiral Sir Thomas Cochrane was expected in Singapore, the English Rajah determined to proceed there to explain to him the true position of affairs on the north-west coast of Borneo. He found the admiral ready to take measures to suppress piracy, and the Rajah left with the impression that he would act against the great pirate chief, Sherif Osman. In the meantime, he returned himself to Brunei in the Phlegethon to find his Bornean friends very despondent. However, in August the admiral appeared, and at the invitation of the Sultan attacked Pangeran Usop for holding two British subjects in slavery. This noble and his followers fled to the hills. Sir Thomas then proceeded to Marudu Bay to chastise Sherif Osman, the most notorious pirate chief in the Archipelago. His place of residence, up a narrow river, was carefully fortified with an extra strong boom across the stream. A very powerful expedition was sent up from the fleet. In attempting to force their way through the well-prepared obstructions our men were exposed to a murderous fire from the forts, and we lost heavily; but the town was taken and burnt. I visited the place afterwards, and was somewhat surprised that a detachment was not landed below the boom and the position turned; but we always like to take the bull by the horns. The pirates suffered severely. Sherif Osman was mortally wounded and died shortly afterwards, and Marudu ceased for a time to be a pirate rendezvous.

Returning to Brunei with the good news, Brooke was delighted to hear that his friend Budrudin had defeated Usop, who, with a force from the hills, had come down to surprise the town, and had driven him away from the neighbourhood of the capital. He was some time afterwards taken at a place called Kimanis, and by order of the Sultan was strangled with all the formalities due to a person who had royal blood in his veins. Thus Muda Hassim’s power appeared securely established. His enemies without and within had been defeated, and his warlike brother, Lanun, on the mother’s side—which accounted for his unusual daring—was at the head of a strong party. The English Rajah felt that they were comparatively safe; yet he had his secret misgivings, and tried in vain to persuade the admiral to station a brig on the coast.

Captain Bethune now returned to England to make his report to the British Government, and Brooke was left to a welcome repose—doubly welcome after all the exertions of the previous months.

It was during the summer of this year that a very curious episode occurred. Whilst the Rajah was at dinner with his English followers in the new house to which I have already referred, and which had been constructed some distance below the Malay town, Lingire, the well-known pirate chief, walked into the dining-hall, followed by a large party of his warriors. As they were all fully armed, the Rajah saw at once that mischief was meant. He received the chief most courteously. A chair was given him, and all the other Dyaks squatted down on the floor round the table. Cigars were handed round, and then the Rajah asked what was the news. Lingire answered that they had just pulled up the river to pay him a visit.

The Rajah called up a very intelligent native servant and said to him in English, ‘Bring me another bottle of sherry,’ and then added in a careless voice, ‘Let the Malay chiefs know who are here.’ The servant duly brought in the wine and then retired. Whilst the Seribas chief was drinking his sherry, the Rajah exerted himself to the utmost to entertain him—told him story after story, got the Dyak to relate instances of his own prowess. His vanity was so tickled that, forgetting the object of his visit, he dilated on his forays into the Dutch territories, where he had surprised the Chinese settlers. ‘They won’t fight, those cowards,’ he said. ‘They run away from an armed man, or drop on their knees and beg for mercy.’ The Rajah encouraged him to continue, but time and the Datus moved slowly, and he could see the Dyaks exchanging glances, as if to say the moment had arrived for action. In another minute they would have been on their feet and the unarmed Englishmen slain, when footsteps were heard on the gravel walk. Lingire looked anxious as the powerful form of the Datu Patingi appeared in the verandah, which was soon crowded with armed Malays. The Datu Tumangong soon followed, and the Dyaks were surrounded. They did not move—a move would have sealed their fate. The Datus threatened and scolded them to their hearts’ content, asked how they had dared to enter the Rajah’s house with arms in their hands, and had not the white chief interfered the Malays would have executed summary justice on the rascals.

The Rajah then spoke. He said he knew very well that Lingire had come to surprise them, but he would not have it said that anyone who came to his country should be in fear of death, however much he merited it, that he would forgive him, and he might go. At a sign from the Rajah the Malays opened their serried ranks, and Lingire and his followers crept out like whipped curs and disappeared from the river. Years after I saw Lingire sitting on a chair beside the Rajah, but I do not think he ever confessed to us that his design had been to kill the white men, though it was well known that he came for no other purpose. He had, in fact, boasted that he would take the Rajah’s head and hang it up in a basket which he had already prepared and placed in a tree near his village. Had he attacked the Rajah the moment he entered the room nothing could have saved the Englishmen, as they were quite defenceless; and he could have done it with impunity, as no Malay war boat could have overtaken a Dyak bangkong. This is but a specimen of the Rajah’s marvellous escapes. I had the above account from his cousin, Arthur Crookshank.

The year 1846 opened satisfactorily. The attack on the pirate haunts at Marudu, the punishment and the subsequent death of Pangeran Usop, rendered the position of Muda Hassim stronger, and the strict watch kept on the Seribas and Sakarangs during 1845 had prevented any marauding on their part. Whilst peace appeared now to be established both at home and abroad, the Rajah was again troubled by the action of his agent Wise. This clever but unscrupulous man kept writing that he would make Brooke the richest commoner in England if he would give him a free hand; and, in fact, without waiting for any permission, he began to project large associations which were to take over the country of Sarawak and rival the old East India Company in wealth and power. When Brooke understood what his agent was doing, he wrote that he would be no party to such schemes, and that he would not surrender Sarawak to the tender mercies of a mercantile association.

I first made the acquaintance of Mr Wise in 1846, and I well remember how lavish he was in the praise of Brooke, and what hopes he entertained of the success of an all-absorbing company. But as time passed his enthusiasm for his friend and employer gradually lessened, till the result was an open rupture. To this I must refer hereafter.

1846, which opened under the finest auspices, soon however changed its aspect. News came of marauding on the part of the Sakarang Dyaks; but this was trifling to what followed. H.M.S. Hazard, Commander Egerton, had been sent by the admiral to Brunei to communicate with Rajah Muda Hassim. As soon as the ship anchored at the mouth of the Brunei river, a native hurried on board, and by signs made the officers understand that some great calamity had occurred at the capital, while he appeared to warn Egerton not to proceed up the river. Fortunately his warning was attended to; and as he kept repeating in Malay, ‘Tuan Brooke’ and ‘Sarawak,’ the Hazard weighed anchor and proceeded to that place. The Malay brought serious news indeed. The Sultan had ordered the murder of Muda Hassim, Budrudin and the rest of the legitimate royal family, and had succeeded in destroying the most important chiefs. These were his own uncles and cousins.

A conspiracy seems to have been hatched among the Sultan’s followers, who were the friends and associates of the late Pangeran Usop, to kill Muda Hassim and his family, not only for the sake of revenge, but to prevent them gaining a preponderating influence in the country. Already the people were looking to them as the rising power, and the Sultan’s prestige was visibly declining. Besides, with their increasing influence they were acquiring too many of the profits which used to accrue to the Sultan’s entourage. As the representatives of the party which preferred the old methods of government, the latter disliked the alliance which was springing up between this branch of the royal family and the Rajah of Sarawak, as the representative of the English, and therefore they found no difficulty in persuading the half-imbecile Sultan that his immediate deposition was meditated. He therefore gave the order that Muda Hassim and his family should be attacked and killed. Though warned that some conspiracy was brewing, they took no heed, lulled in fancied security, and were easily surprised. Muda Hassim defended his home with a few followers, but finding that they would soon be overpowered, shot himself so as not to fall into the hands of his enemies.

Pangeran Budrudin was attacked at the same time. Brooke wrote to Keppel, on April 5th 1846, ‘After fighting desperately and cutting down several of the Sultan’s hired assassins, he was shot in his left wrist, his shoulder and chest were cut open so as to disable his right arm. A woman, by name Nur Salum, fought and was wounded by his side. His sister and a slave boy called Jaffir, though both wounded, remained by him, the rest of his few followers having been cut down or having fled. The four retired into the house and barred the door. Budrudin, wounded and bleeding, ordered the boy to get down a cask of powder, break in the head and scatter it in a small circle. He then told Jaffir to escape, gave him my signet ring, of which I had made him a present, and told him to beg me not to forget him and to tell the Queen of England of his fate. He then called the women to him, and when the boy had dropped through the flooring into the water, fired the powder, and all three were blown into the air.’ No hero could have died more nobly, and what fine creatures must those women have been!

No natives ever appear to consider or to care for the consequences of their acts until the acts are done. They are blinded by their hate; but no sooner had the conspirators murdered the principal members of the royal family than they began to tremble for the future. They knew the friendship which united the English Rajah to Pangeran Budrudin, and began to reflect that he would spare no pains to punish them. With the death of this brave pangeran all hopes of regenerating the Government of Brunei vanished.

At that time we had in the East an admiral who dared to act—Sir Thomas Cochrane. When he heard of the massacre he determined to proceed to Brunei to inquire what was the meaning of these violent measures. He rightly argued that the massacre did not directly concern England, unless the Sultan was about to repudiate all his engagements with us. On his way he called in at Sarawak to see Brooke, and to ask him, as the British Government’s confidential agent, to accompany the expedition.

The squadron arrived off the Brunei river on the 6th June, and Sir Thomas immediately sent a message to the Sultan, saying he was about to visit the capital and desired an interview with His Highness. Some messengers of inferior rank brought down the reply that the admiral might ascend the river in two small boats. No notice was taken of this restriction, and the steamers, with the smaller vessels in tow, and accompanied by the boats of the squadron, began to ascend the river. As they neared the capital they were received with volleys from every battery; but the marines and blue-jackets were soon on shore, and the defenders fled in haste. On entering the central canal of Brunei, a battery at the Sultan’s Palace opened fire, which did considerable damage to the Phlegethon. There was no serious resistance, however, and when the force took possession of the town they found it completely deserted. The Sultan escaped to the interior, and the party sent to capture him naturally failed in their object.

A provisional government was established under Pangeran Mumein, a respectable noble, not of royal descent, and Pangeran Mahomed, a brother of Muda Hassim, but not of much intelligence; then a proclamation was issued, saying that the Sultan might return to his capital if he were prepared to fulfil his engagements.

Nothing ever raised the prestige of the English so much as the capture of Brunei. As a military feat of arms it was of no importance, but to the tribes of the interior it was looked upon as a marvel of heroism. They naturally thought Brunei to be the only great power on earth, so that when they heard that the English had taken their capital, they rejoiced that their oppressors had received such a lesson. Cautiously looking around to see that no Malay was present, they would laughingly tell how they had seen the Sultan and his nobles flying through the jungle with the English at their heels, and ask why having once taken the country we did not keep it. These or similar inquiries were made wherever I travelled in the interior.

Sir Thomas Cochrane, having seen the establishment of the provisional government, sailed for China; but during his passage up the north-west coast of Borneo destroyed several pirate communities, and, leaving Captain Mundy of H.M.S. Iris to complete the work, proceeded to Hong Kong.

When Brooke returned to Sarawak he was indeed received as the ‘Conquering Hero.’ The Malays there were very much like the tribes of the interior, thoroughly imbued with the idea that the Sultan of Brunei was a great monarch, second to none; and therefore the news that the capital had been taken and that the Sultan had fled to the woods was a complete surprise; but the surprise was only equalled by the pleasure it gave, as the Brunei Government was unpopular to the last degree, indeed hated for its oppression.

While in Brunei Brooke collected those of the families of Muda Hassim and his brothers who wished to be removed from the capital, and brought them down to Sarawak, where for years they were supported by him.

1846 closed, as it had begun, with every sign of prosperity. There was peace in all the neighbouring districts, and the native trade on the coast was considered to be very flourishing. Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, was continually increasing, as the natives removed to it from the less secure rivers, and there was every hope that the British Government would now really make an effort to develop the coast. They had decided to occupy the island of Labuan and establish a commercial settlement there, and this, it was expected, would lead to a more forward policy.

Having received instructions from Her Majesty’s Government, Brooke, in May 1847, proceeded to Brunei to negotiate a treaty with the Sultan, which should not only regulate the trade relations between the two countries, but should contain a clause declaring that British subjects committing offences within His Highness’s dominions might only be tried by Her Majesty’s representative. The treaty was signed, and then Brooke left on board the Company’s steamer Nemesis, Captain Wallace, who was on his way to Singapore. When they arrived near the mouth of the Brunei river they were hailed by a native prahu and were informed that a Balignini pirate squadron was outside, capturing fishing and trading boats. As soon as the Nemesis rounded the sandy point of the island of Muara they saw eleven Balignini prahus in full chase of a native vessel, but as soon as the steamer appeared the pirates turned towards the shore, and finding escape hopeless, pulled into a shallow bay, anchored their vessels, bows seaward, and all kept in position by hawsers connecting the prahus to each other. The steamer arrived, when the pirates immediately opened fire on her, and after rather a prolonged action they cut their cables. Some prahus pulled away to the north, others to the south, while the remainder were deserted by their crews. It is needless to enter into details, but it may be mentioned that in all the vessels taken were found crowds of captives, principally from the Dutch possessions. None of the prahus made the Balignini Islands, as the three that escaped the steamer were so riddled with shot that the crews had to take to their boats, and after a painful voyage at last reached home. The pirates of the eight other prahus were forced to seek refuge on shore, and after committing some murders and other excesses, were surrounded, and then they surrendered to the Sultan, who had them all put to death.

Peace being established along the north-west coast by the energetic action of Sir Thomas Cochrane and the wise policy of Brooke, the latter decided to visit England after an absence of nearly nine years. He knew that the action with the Balignini would deter those pirates from visiting the coast for some time; he was satisfied that the Brunei Government could do no mischief; the Dyak pirates were still under the influence of the punishment they had received, and Sarawak was prosperous and safe. So leaving his cousin, Arthur Crookshank, in charge, he started for England, where he was sure to be well received, as Captain Keppel’s successful Voyage of the Dido had made the ruler of Sarawak well known to all Englishmen.

After a tedious voyage Brooke landed in England on October 2nd, and was soon surrounded by friends and relations. The Queen received him at Windsor Castle, and he was so fêted by all that he had but little time left to transact business. Brooke could not but feel that his countrymen fully appreciated the services he had rendered to England. He was presented with the freedom of the City of London, many clubs elected him a member by special vote, Oxford honoured him with her distinctions. The undergraduates went wild with enthusiasm at the mention of his name, for he was pre-eminently a leader to create that feeling among young men. He made friendships, which were lifelong, with Earl Grey and the Earl of Ellesmere.

Mr Wise gave him a grand dinner, and there delivered a speech which was an unqualified eulogium on his employer; it was not only eulogistic, it was fulsome in his praise. I remember well all the circumstances, and they are important; they impressed themselves deeply in my mind. My father, who was present at this dinner, when he came home, said to me, ‘I cannot understand Wise. He has just made a speech in which he has declared that Brooke is one of the greatest and best of men, whilst privately he tells me he is a robber and a murderer.’ On my father asking for an explanation, Mr Wise excused himself, saying that it was the necessity of his position which forced him to dissemble.

Brooke, who before he left Borneo had been named Commissioner and Consul-General, was now called upon to accept the position of Governor of the new settlement of Labuan, and was placed at the head of an efficient staff. I was appointed secretary to the Rajah, as Commissioner, and was thus brought into the closest relations to him. We were all ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to proceed to Borneo in H.M.’s frigate Meander, Captain Keppel, on the 1st February 1848.

How high were our hopes when we sailed from Portsmouth! They nearly made us forget the discomforts of our position on board—discomforts almost inseparable from an attempt to turn a ship of war into a passenger vessel. Our progress appeared to us slow, first from very stormy weather, and then from incessant calms.

The Meander, though of forty-four guns, was but a second-rate frigate; she had, however, a picked crew, whom the fame of her captain had induced to join; she was fitted with special boats for river service, as she was intended to act against the pirate communities. I need not dwell on the details of this voyage, but I must introduce an anecdote related by Sir Hugh Low of his great chief. ‘No circumstances, however unexpected, flurried him.... I was once a passenger with him in a large man-of-war. His cabin was on the port side of the vessel, and he was sitting in an arm-chair which leant against the bulkhead. I was stretched on a locker on the opposite side of the cabin, and there being a fresh breeze the ship was heeling over to starboard, when we felt a sudden increase in the lurch, which threw me headlong against the lee bulkhead, the Rajah’s chair being tilted up so that his feet were in the air. I attempted to crawl towards the door, when the Rajah, who had been reading, asked me where I was going. I said, “I am going to see what is the matter; the vessel is capsizing.” He replied, “You have nothing to do with it; you are only a passenger. Stay where you are.” The danger was averted by the promptness of the carpenter, who with one stroke of his sharp axe severed the main brace, and the vessel immediately righted itself.’

We were all glad to reach Singapore, for although the officers did their utmost to make us comfortable, it was not possible that much success could attend their efforts. I daresay they were as pleased to see us land as we were to find ourselves on shore. One thing I may mention, however; the gun-room officers pressed me to remain with them instead of facing the expense and discomforts of a Singapore hotel; but I could not avail myself of their kindness as I had my secretary’s duties to perform.

About three weeks after our arrival, the surveyor, the late Mr Scott, afterwards Sir John Scott, and Captain Hoskins, harbour-master, were sent ahead to prepare the necessary buildings for the officers that were to follow. This was our first mistake. Neither of these gentlemen knew anything about tropical countries, nor even the language of Borneo, and fixed the site of the settlement on a grassy plain, that turned into a swamp as soon as the rainy season commenced. Had the Lieutenant-Governor, Mr Napier, been sent ahead, or had Mr Low (now Sir Hugh Low), the Colonial Secretary, accompanied the advance party, their special knowledge of the Tropics would have saved us the consequences of this disastrous error. After a long and apparently unnecessary delay of three months and a half at Singapore, we sailed in the Meander for Sarawak. Before our departure, however, news arrived that Her Majesty had been pleased to name Mr Brooke a K.C.B., and he was duly installed before we left that British settlement.

On September 4, 1848, the Meander anchored off the Muaratabas entrance of the Sarawak river, and the reception accorded to their Rajah by the native inhabitants made a deep impression, not only on me, but on all who witnessed it. The whole population turned out to meet him, and the river, as far as the eye could reach, was thronged with boats. Everything that could float was put into requisition—the trading vessels, the war boats carrying their crews of a hundred, a few unwieldy Chinese junks, and every canoe in the capital. All were gaily dressed, and the chiefs crowded on board the frigate. At 1 p.m. we left under a royal salute, with yards manned and hearty cheers from the crew, and started for a six hours’ pull to the capital. We arrived after sunset and found every house brilliantly illuminated. The Rajah’s reception at Government House, where all the English were assembled, was naturally very hearty, and soon the whole place was crowded with natives.

Finding that during his absence the piratical tribes had recommenced their raids on the neighbouring towns, the Rajah thought of forming a league of the well-disposed districts, and therefore introduced a flag, which was not only a Sarawak flag, but might be used by any member of the league. This flag was hoisted, with great ceremony, on the staff in front of the Government House, and it is now used along the whole coast as far as, and in a place or two beyond, the Sultan’s capital.

About this time a mission, under the auspices of the Church of England, was established in Sarawak, and great hopes were entertained of its success.

I may as well mention who were the members of the Rajah’s staff. While we were at Kuching, his nephew, Captain Brooke of the 88th, joined him as A.D.C., but as he was to be the Rajah’s heir in Sarawak it was thought he would soon retire from the army; then Arthur Crookshank, who had hitherto represented him in Borneo; Charles Grant, his private secretary; Brereton, at that moment unattached; and myself, secretary to the Commissioner.

In the first days of October we embarked on board the Meander and sailed for Labuan, where we arrived on the 7th. Labuan lies, as I have stated, off a large bay, into which flow the Brunei, the Limbang, the Trusan, and many other rivers, and seemed well adapted for a commercial and naval station. It has a fine harbour and plenty of coal, and as we arrived on a bright day, the place looked very attractive. A broad grassy plain, which skirted the harbour, was about three quarters of a mile deep, then it met the low hills and thick jungle. Our houses had all been constructed near the sea, with the plain behind us, and their neat appearance, although only of native materials, quite delighted us. Keppel soon sailed to tow down to Singapore H.M.S. Royalist, which had been dismasted by a sudden squall, and we were left to the care of a few marines and blue-jackets.

The south-west monsoon was now blowing fiercely, and brought up with it heavy clouds and drenching rain, and our plain speedily became a fetid swamp, which laid many low with fever and ague. In an interval of fine weather we proceeded to Brunei in the Jolly Bachelor, a vessel belonging to the Rajah, but manned by blue-jackets, the steam tender Ranee and some other boats, to ratify our treaty with the Sultan, and found prepared for us a long, low shed of a house, in which we all took up our quarters. Brunei was in truth a Venice of hovels, or rather huts, perched on posts driven into the mud banks found in the broad river. Everything looked as though it were falling to decay—the palace, the mosque, the houses of the pangerans, in fact, the whole city of perhaps 20,000 inhabitants.

The wretched Sultan was even then suffering from a disease—cancer on the lip—which carried him off a few years subsequently. He was a mean-looking creature, and his previous atrocities had earned for him the description, ‘the head of an idiot and the heart of a pirate.’ After finishing our business we returned to Labuan.

I never spent such a wretched month as that of November 1848. After a short respite the south-west monsoon began to blow again, the rain fell in torrents, the sea was driven up to such a height that the waves washed under all our houses, which were built on piles, and destroyed many of our stores. The Rajah’s English servant attributed the diminution of the wine and brandy to the same cause. Fever was soon upon us. First the marines and blue-jackets fell ill and many died; then all our Chinese workmen and Kling servants; then Sir James Brooke, the Lieutenant-Governor, the Colonial Secretary, the Colonial Doctor, Captain Brooke, Mr Grant, and many others were down with this weakening disease. The only ones to escape were Mr Scott and myself. Admiral Collier arrived during this period, and fled, panic-stricken, from the place, and ever after did all in his power to injure the colony, and certainly did what he could to keep Her Majesty’s vessels away, though those on board ship scarcely ever suffered. There was gloom in every house; even the Chinese would not stay, and went over to establish themselves in the capital.

Fortunately the barracks for the Madras garrison had been built on the swelling ground at the back of the plain, and to this place the Governor sent all those he could. While there they quickly recovered, and it was decided to have fresh houses built for the whole staff near the military quarters.

At the end of November the weather began to improve, as the north-east monsoon made itself felt, and the Meander fortunately arrived, and Keppel insisting, Sir James and some of his staff were embarked on board, and we sailed along the north-west coast on the way to Balambangan Island, where an English vessel had been wrecked. Finding her burnt to the water’s edge, Sir James decided to proceed to Sulu and visit the Sultan.

At Sugh, the capital, we found both coolness and hesitation. Some Dutch vessels had lately bombarded the town, and the Sultan had not forgotten our attack on Sherif Osman of Marudu Bay. This chief had married a relative of his, and his death after the engagement with the English was still remembered. Besides, there were some survivors and many relatives of those killed in the engagement in May 1847, against whom it was necessary to take every precaution.

Whatever was the motive, the Sultan got over his soreness of heart, and determined to see the great white chief whose fame had long since reached his ears. He and the people were soon assured that the English had no hostile intentions, and shortly after our arrival a reception was arranged.

The Sulu Islands were claimed by the Spaniards, but they had never made good their claim, for although they had sent several expeditions against the Sultan, which were followed by treaties, these were seldom observed by either side. The islands themselves are as beautiful as, perhaps more beautiful than, any others I have ever seen, well cultivated and producing all the food the natives required, but their commerce appeared very limited. They were the principal rendezvous of the Balignini and Lanun pirates, and consequently a slave emporium. The products of the sea, such as pearls and mother-of-pearl—bêche de mer—so prized by the Chinese, were the most valued articles of trade, a large portion of which, however, came from the islands further east. The proceeds of the plunder sold by the pirates were too often invested in guns and powder.

Sulu is nominally governed by a Sultan and a council of nobles, who, however, possess but limited authority over the population of the thousand and one isles.

The Sultan and his nobles received us in such state as they could manage in a hurry, since after the late attack on them by the Dutch their valuables had been sent to the mountains. Their reception of the English envoy was most kind. As Sir James did not wish to introduce business during this visit, our intercourse was purely formal, and after mutual inquiries as to the state of our health, and a curious reference made by the Sultan to the recent revolution in France, we took our leave. The Sultan was a young man, pale and emaciated, the result, it was said, of too much indulgence in opium.

The Meander soon sailed from Sulu, and after calling at Samboangan, the Spanish penal settlement in the island of Mindanau, we returned to our colony of Labuan, where we were pleased to find that all the officers were well, and that they had removed from the swampy plain to the higher land behind it. There was, however, but little progress visible, as the fever panic still prevailed. We did not stay long here, as the Rajah was anxious to begin operations against the Seribas and Sakarang pirates, who had again commenced to ravage the coast. We reached Sarawak on the 16th February. A daring attack of the Seribas Dyaks on the Sadong district, when they captured over a hundred heads, made us move out with our native fleet to pursue them, but a return of the north-east monsoon drove us to shelter. Later on, accompanied by the boats of the steamer Nemesis, we destroyed some of their inland villages, and thus kept them quiet for a time.

To crush these pirates, however, we required a stronger force, and had to wait for the arrival of one of Her Majesty’s ships. In the meantime, in order to save the independence of Sulu, threatened both by the Dutch and the Spaniards, Sir James determined to proceed there in the steamer Nemesis and negotiate a treaty. After calling in at Labuan, we continued our course to the Sulu seas. We were received by the Sultan and nobles in the most friendly manner, and Sir James had no difficulty in negotiating a treaty which, had it been ratified and supported, would have effectually preserved the independence of the Sultan. Our intercourse with these people was most interesting. Preceded by his fame, Sir James soon made himself trusted by the brave islanders, and one proof was that the Sultan asked him to visit him in a small cottage, where he was then staying with a young bride. I was among those who accompanied our Rajah, and on the darkest of dark nights we groped our way there. The Sultan was almost alone, and he soon began to converse about his troublesome neighbours, the Dutch and the Spaniards, expressing a strong hope that the English would support him.

Sir James explained to him our position in Labuan, and cordially invited his people to come and trade there, assuring him that the English had no designs on the independence of their neighbours, but that they only wanted peace and the cessation of piracy. One or two nobles dropped in, and the conversation turned on the subject of hunting, and our hosts proved themselves eager sportsmen, and invited us to return when the rice crop was over and they would show us how they hunted the deer, both on horseback and on foot. The Sultan, during the evening, took a few whiffs of opium, whilst the rest of the company smoked tobacco in various forms. The women were not rigidly excluded, as they came and looked at us whenever they pleased; but we could not see much of them, and it is a form of politeness to pretend not to notice their presence. After a very enjoyable evening, we bade farewell to the Sultan, as we were to sail the following day.

Sir James Brooke had intended to return there, establish himself on shore for a month, and join the nobles in their sports, and thus acquire a personal influence over them. He thought he could wean them from intercourse with the pirates and turn them into honest traders. It must be confessed that when we were there we had abundant evidence that the Balignini and Lanun pirates did frequent the port to sell their slaves and booty and lay in a stock of arms and ammunition. Sir James was, however, persuaded that if British war steamers showed themselves every now and then in Sulu waters, the pirates would abandon these seas. The moment was propitious; the Spaniards had just destroyed the haunts of Balignini, capturing many and dispersing the rest. The sanguinary defeat of eleven of their vessels in 1847, by the Nemesis, was not forgotten, and it required but a little steady patrolling to disgust the nobles with this pursuit; in fact, many had sold their war vessels and guns, saying, that now the English steamers were after them, it was no longer the profession of a gentleman. I never met natives who pleased me more; the young chiefs were frank, manly fellows, fond of riding and hunting, and our intercourse with them was very pleasant. It was always a matter of regret with me that I never had an opportunity of visiting them again.

Leaving Sulu, we called in at Samboangan, and had a very agreeable time with the acquaintances we had previously made there. We saw how little the Spaniards had done to develop the immense island of Mindanau. Here and there on the coast were some small settlements, with cultivation extending but a few miles inland, but there was a great air of neatness about the places dotted along the coast.

On our return voyage we touched at Labuan, and then went on to Sarawak, where we found H.M.’s brig Albatross, Commander Farquhar, and the Royalist, Lieutenant-Commander Everest. The Nemesis proceeded on to Singapore, but soon rejoined us.

MAP OF BORNEO AND PART OF THE EASTERN ARCHIPELAGO, SHEWING BRITISH TERRITORIES, BRITISH PROTECTORATES, AND FEDERATED MALAY STATES.

The expedition which was now organised was the largest that ever left the non-piratical districts for the punishment of the marauders. Besides the steamer Nemesis, we had the boats of the Albatross and Royalist, and about one hundred native prahus, manned by between three and four thousand men. I have in another work so fully described this expedition that I will not give a fresh account, but content myself with a summary of our proceedings. As a turning point in the history of the coast it will ever be remembered, not only as the greatest blow that was ever struck at Dyak piracy, and practically its destruction, but also because it led to the great misfortune that Sir James Brooke considered it necessary to retire from the public service, a step which was forced upon him by the weakness of Lord Aberdeen’s Government and the malice of his enemies.

On the 24th July 1849 the Nemesis started with the Royalist, the Ranee tender, and seven English boats in tow, and we followed in the evening with our powerful native contingent. The campaign, as planned by the authorities, was to proceed up the great river of Rejang, and attack the pirate communities from inland; but on our way to the mouth of that river we received information that ninety-eight Seribas war boats had pulled along the coast towards our point of rendezvous, the Rejang. It was instantly decided that on its return we should attempt to intercept this fleet, and our force was divided into two squadrons, one to guard the entrance of the Seribas, the other the mouth of the next river to the north, the Kaluka.

After two days’ waiting, our spy boats, at sunset on the 31st, brought intelligence of the approach of the pirate fleet. When they saw us at the mouth of the Kaluka, they gave an exultant shout and dashed away for home, but their hopes soon vanished as they were met by the Nemesis, the English boats, and the mass of our native fleet. Some turned to escape by the Kaluka, but were driven back and pursued by our light division. They now lost all hope of being able to get away in their heavy bangkongs; they therefore ran them on shore and escaped into the jungle.

In the morning the Rajah received a note from Farquhar to say that he had gone up the Seribas with the steamer to prevent any of the pirate boats escaping, but the few who had forced their way through the blockading squadron were already far beyond his reach. Our division then proceeded to the mouth of the Seribas. What a sight it was! Seventy-five of their war boats were lying on the sands, eighteen had been sunk at sea, and twelve alone escaped up the river. Such a defeat had never before been known.

These war boats were very different from what have been described by certain critics. I measured one. It was eighty feet in length, nine in breadth, and its pulling crew must have consisted of at least seventy men. The pirates murdered all their girl captives, and, after shocking mutilations, cut off their heads and escaped. We soon had ample proof of the piracies committed by this fleet. Not only had they attacked villages on shore, but they had captured two large native vessels on their way to and from Singapore. It would have been easy to have destroyed the fugitive pirates by occupying a narrow isthmus over which they must pass, but Sir James Brooke, convinced that this great defeat would have full effect, called off his excited native followers to the attack of the interior strongholds.

During our stay in the districts of Paku, we lost some men from the over-confidence of the sons of the Orang Kaya Tumangong of Lundu, who advanced to clear the path by which we were to march on the town. They were stooping to pull out the ranjaus when the Seribas, headed by Lingire, sprang upon them, and cut down two, while the third son escaped, as a party of our Malays poured a volley into the enemy and killed several of them. However, we advanced next day and laid their country waste, our native contingent loading themselves with plunder. Having showed the pirates that no defences could prevent our punishing them, it was decided to carry out the original plan and attack those Sakarang and Seribas Dyaks who lived on the Kanowit, a branch of the great Rejang river, about a hundred miles from the mouth of the latter. These men were most feared by the inhabitants of the Sago districts, which were situated near the western entrances of the mighty stream.

Many of our native allies now left us, as they were loaded with plunder and were not provisioned for so long a voyage; so we proceeded with the Nemesis, the English boats, and our principal Malay war prahus, and as soon as we appeared on the Rejang fresh bodies of natives began to join us, eager to retaliate upon those who had so often attacked them and captured their trading vessels. The Rejang is a splendid river, destined some day to be an important highway of commerce, as its various branches open out a large extent of country, and it penetrates further into the great island of Borneo than any other stream on the north-west coast.

The Nemesis towed many of the boats up to the entrance of the Kanowit branch, and anchored there whilst the expedition pushed up to attack the great pirate chief Buah Ryah, who had established his quarters in the interior of this broad river. We advanced rapidly, and were within one day’s pull of his forts, while Captain Brooke, with the light division of fast-pulling boats had reconnoitred some miles ahead, and found that the pirates were beginning to show in great numbers, which made us feel assured that we should soon be in touch with the main body. We landed to inspect a large village house, which was surrounded by a cotton plantation, and found it well built, and full of baskets of the skulls of the unfortunates who had been surprised by these marauders. I counted three hundred heads in one village. We then fell down the river to join Sir James Brooke and the English force, in great spirits at the prospect of coming in contact with the enemy next day. We were therefore astonished to hear, on our arrival, that it had been decided to give up the object of our expedition and return. As dinner was over, we removed to a short distance from our chiefs to have our meal in quiet, and to express to each other our indignation at the decision to which our naval commander had come. Some others joined us, equally disappointed. Towards the end of the meal, I could not help raising my glass and saying aloud, ‘Oh, for one hour of bonnie Keppel!’ Captain Farquhar sprang up and came over to us to inquire what I meant. We told him why we considered his determination very detrimental to the cause, as we were approaching Buah Ryah’s stronghold. He urged, however, the fatigue of his men, who had been pulling many days in succession against a strong current. We proposed a day’s rest, but on a hint from Sir James I gave up the discussion. He thought as I did, that Buah Ryah would, with some reason, proclaim that we were afraid to attack him, and would be thus encouraged to hold out. This actually happened, and thus the pacification of these districts was delayed for many years. There is no doubt that the English sailors were really tired, and possibly also dissatisfied, as all the skirmishing was done by our native contingent, who forged ahead of the slow-pulling men-of-war’s boats. How we missed the special boats of the Meander! The sailors, however, might have been sure that had there been any real fighting ahead, all would have waited for them.

As we gloomily fell down the river we met thousands of natives who were coming to join our expedition, and who were desperately disappointed that Buah Ryah had not been punished. When near the mouth of the Kanowit we were hailed by the inhabitants of the villages we had destroyed. A conference ensued; they showed their faith in the white man by boldly pulling out to our prahus. They did not attempt to deny their piracies, but promised amendment; and most of these chiefs kept their word.

As we returned towards Sarawak the native chiefs of all the trading towns on the coast came to express their unbounded thanks to the English Rajah and to the Queen’s forces for the punishment they had inflicted on the pirates, and the prospect it held out of trade being carried on free from danger of pillage and death.

CHAPTER V

ATTACKS ON THE RAJAH’S POLICY—VISITS TO LABUAN, SINGAPORE AND PENANG—MISSION TO SIAM—THE RAJAH’S RETURN TO ENGLAND—DINNER TO HIM IN LONDON—HIS REMARKABLE SPEECH—LORD ABERDEEN’S GOVERNMENT APPOINTS A HOSTILE COMMISSION—THE RAJAH’S RETURN TO SARAWAK—COMMISSION AT SINGAPORE—ITS FINDINGS.

We were fairly contented with the results of the recent expedition, and thought that all would be satisfied with our efforts to put down piracy and protect trade. We were therefore greatly surprised on our arrival in Sarawak to find that two English papers had commenced violent attacks on our proceedings, founded at first on some reports of excesses by our native allies during our expedition in the spring, when we punished the pirates at the Kaluka river. At the time we suspected, and it was clearly proved afterwards, that the originator of this campaign against the Rajah was Mr Henry Wise, Sir James’s discarded agent.

I have already mentioned that Mr Wise had been accidentally entrusted with a mass of the Rajah’s private correspondence with his mother and with Mr John Templer; in the former Mr Wise found the expression, ‘A friend was worth a dozen agents’; and in the latter such words as, ‘If Wise does not obey my instructions I will kick him to the devil.’ Mr Wise was by nature vindictive, and it was not surprising that he was somewhat roused by such freedom of expression, though it occurred in confidential letters to the Rajah’s most intimate friends. The reason why these energetic remarks had been made was Sir James’s discovery that Wise was trading on his great name, and (as already stated) endeavouring to form companies with very large capital to develop the resources of Sarawak. The Rajah tried in vain to stem this current by pointing out that there could be no employment for a large capital in a new country, and that everything must advance gradually. This would not have suited Wise’s views, which were to gain for himself a large fortune, careless as to who suffered in the process.

Mr Wise succeeded in floating the Eastern Archipelago Company, with a nominal capital of £100,000, and managed so to mystify the directors that they agreed to accept his own terms, by which he would have monopolised nearly all the profits. But notwithstanding that there were some respectable names among the directors the public did not come forward, and all, or nearly all, of the shares remained in the hands of the company. The City would not help, as it soon became known that capitalists of undoubted strength had been ready to find the money, but were suspicious of Mr Wise’s refusal to state his terms before the company was formed.

Having secured, as he thought, three thousand a year for certain, with other great advantages in prospect, Mr Wise threw off the mask, and now declared to Government that he could no longer associate himself in any way with Sir James’s sanguinary policy. He forgot entirely that his company had been formed to take advantage of the English Rajah’s unique position in Borneo, so as to develop its resources and to work the coal in Labuan, of which colony Sir James Brooke was Governor.

Mr Wise was soon in communication with the press, but the majority saw through the discarded agent, and would have nothing to do with his pretended disclosures. He succeeded, however, in gaining the ear of Joseph Hume, who promised to bring the case before Parliament, and managed to win over to his side Mr Cobden, and, to a lesser degree, Mr Bright. I must here observe that because Mr Cobden advocated Free Trade with great ability and success, his followers appear to consider that words must not be applied to him which he was ready enough to apply to others. Many pretended to be shocked that Sir James Brooke answered these attacks with his characteristic energy; and I remember meeting one of the foremost statesmen of the present day at a dinner on my return from Borneo in 1860, who, in reply to a question of mine, said that the language which Sir James Brooke had employed when speaking of ministers had prevented them from restoring him to his position in the public service or showing their appreciation of the great good he had done. It took my breath away. After they had heaped on him every humiliation which was possible, he was to sit quiet and bear it. It was not, however, in his nature to sit quiet when calumny after calumny was propagated by his enemies. I will allow that his language was strong and occasionally injudicious, but we must remember the provocation, and that his heart was set on the safety of Sarawak. I must add that not one of those around him ever attempted to increase his indignation; on the contrary, we urged him to treat these attacks with contempt.

After having spent one hundred and sixty days in ships and boats during the first eight months of 1849, we were, indeed, glad of a little rest. The squadron now dispersed, Her Majesty’s ships sailed for Singapore; Captain Brooke, suffering from fever, went to China for a change; and Grant and I remained with the Rajah. Though quiet, we were busy, as deputation after deputation arrived from the pirate rivers to express their firm determination to give up piracy, and messengers came from the distant inland tribes to interview the Rajah, ‘for the Dyaks had heard, the whole world had heard, that the Son of Europe was the friend of the Dyak.’

We also visited several of the interior tribes, and the manifold proofs that the Rajah witnessed of the great advance made by those poor and humble subjects of his raj must have been pleasing to him.

It was during these quiet months that we gave ourselves up to the library. The Rajah was a good reader, and it was a treat to hear him read Miss Austen’s novels, which were great favourites of his. He was also very fond of religious discussions, and I think we listened to the whole of the long controversy between Huxley and Priestley, and heard all Channing’s Essays. Whatever the Rajah touched appeared to gain an additional brightness. He was always gay and full of fun, and dearly loved an argument.

Every evening the native chiefs came in to talk to the Rajah, who supplied them with cigars, and it was from these conversations that he gained that minute knowledge of the local politics of every district, which served him so admirably when he had to deal with the chiefs along the coast. The Rajah had the rare gift of never forgetting a name or a face. One evening a poor Milanau came in, and after touching the Rajah’s hand, squatted on the floor, and remained silent, as many chiefs were present. ‘I have seen that man before,’ said Sir James; and presently he turned round and addressed the native by name, and said, ‘Bujang, what is the news from Bintulu?’ This man had piloted a steamer into that river ten years previously, and the Rajah had never seen him since.

Finding he could not shake off the fever and ague contracted during our expeditions, Sir James decided to proceed to the island of Penang, one of the Straits Settlements, where he had been offered the use of Governor Butterworth’s bungalow on a hill more than two thousand feet above the sea level. Hearing, however, that his officers in Labuan were at loggerheads, he decided first to proceed to that colony and investigate the cause of these dissensions. We left Sarawak on the 11th December, reaching our destination on the 14th; and it was time indeed that the Governor should arrive. Our few days were prolonged to over ten weeks, as an inquiry had to be instituted into the conduct of the Lieutenant-Governor. Though I do not think that anything was proved against his personal honour, it was clearly established that his violent temper and quarrelsome disposition rendered him unsuited for the position, and Sir James Brooke suspended him from his functions.

While this inquiry was going on, we proceeded to Brunei to see the Sultan, and heard, whilst we were in the capital, that the Chinese traders were most anxious to remove to our colony, but I do not believe they ever really intended to do so. They had built houses for themselves in the capital, and were doing a thriving trade on a small scale; and unless they all agreed to move at the same time, none would move. The Bornean Malay traders also talked of migrating from the capital to a spot opposite the colony. The slave question would prevent their establishing themselves within its boundaries; but it is always a difficult thing for men to abandon their homes, and in this case, as the power of the Brunei Government was broken, they no longer feared oppression. So the colony remained stagnant.

We left Labuan at the end of February, and after calling in at Sarawak, proceeded to Singapore, where a budget of news awaited us. The English Government had appointed Sir James as Special Envoy to proceed to Siam and Cochin China to form treaties with those states; at the same time we heard of the renewal of virulent attacks on the Rajah’s policy by certain journals and Members of Parliament. After a pleasant stay of a fortnight, we proceeded to Penang in the hope that we should all shake off the fever and ague contracted during our exhausting expeditions.

No man loved nature more than did the Rajah, and he enjoyed his stay on this lofty hill. He could ride, or wander among the lovely flowers and plants of the Governor’s garden, or he could gaze on the beautiful scenery which unfolded itself around us. Those six weeks were indeed delightful, and we often looked back on our quiet sojourn there and its refreshing rest. We busied ourselves also in preparing for our missions to Siam and Annam, to which I had been appointed secretary.

As the ship of war which was to have taken us to Siam was soon expected, we would not wait for the mail steamer, but left Penang in a sailing vessel, and took seventeen days to reach Singapore, a distance of only four hundred miles; in our case it was the greater haste the less speed.

On our arrival in Singapore we found that there was no vessel ready for us, and we had to wait weary months there before one was placed at our disposal. At first we were to have had the Hastings battleship; then, from some personal reason, it was decided by Admiral Austen, brother to Jane Austen, no doubt the ‘William’ of Mansfield Park, that we were to have H.M.’s steamer Sphynx, Captain Shadwell. It was quite useless to show ourselves in Siam without a commanding force, if we wished to secure a favourable treaty. It was known that the King of Siam had become hostile to Europeans, and nothing but fear would work on his prejudiced mind. Had we appeared off the Menam River with a strong squadron, our mission would have been respected.

Early in August we left Singapore for Siam in the Sphynx, attended by the Company’s steamer Nemesis, and were soon at our destination. Captain Brooke and I were sent in to the forts at the mouth of the river to make arrangements for the Envoy’s suitable reception. We found the people on shore in great alarm, and we heard that a heavy boom had been placed across the river to prevent the steamers proceeding to the capital. When we had settled our business we returned to Sir James, and it was arranged that he should enter the river next morning in the larger ship. It appeared to a landsman that no sufficient precautions were taken to mark the deepest passage, but we trusted to a native pilot, who speedily ran us on a sandbank. There was no help for it, as the Sphynx could not be moved, but to be transferred to the Nemesis, and we then steamed on to the forts.

The minister charged with foreign affairs had come down to receive us, so the first meeting between him and the English Envoy took place at the village close to the mouth of the river.

It was an amusing scene. The arrogance of this half-civilised people was extreme, and the minister, to show his disdain, had the seats intended for the English Envoy and his suite placed in a position of marked inferiority. He himself was seated on a divan, with soft cushions, and surrounded by his gold betel boxes and tea service, whilst his followers crouched behind him, and no native approached, except on his hands and knees, crawling like an insect along the floor. The minister rose as we entered, and pointing to some chairs, motioned us to be seated, but Sir James passed them by. He approached the minister and shook hands, and sat down opposite to him; we all followed suit, and did the same, placing our chairs beside that of our chief. The minister was breathless with astonishment, but he resumed his seat, and in a short time recovered his composure, and the usual routine of questions and answers followed. He said that the Government had built a house for the reception of the mission, and that state barges were being prepared to convey the Envoy and his suite to the capital. Had the Sphynx been able to enter the river, we might have insisted on going to the capital in the Nemesis, but it was settled that we should proceed in the state barges. Captain Brooke and I went first to inspect the temporary house allotted to us, but finding it unsuitable, we accepted the offer of an English merchant to take his house for the mission, and use the other for our escort and for visitors from the ships.

Sir James Brooke was soon satisfied that, under the then reigning king, success was hopeless, as he had imbibed a strong prejudice against foreigners through the unjustifiable conduct of an English merchant, who had nearly ruined the prospects of our trade by an attempt to coerce the King into buying a steamer at four times its value. But what proved of importance was the confidential intercourse which took place with Chaufa Mungkut, the legal heir to the throne. This prince had retired to a monastery to avoid the persecution of the King, who was an illegitimate elder brother.

We readily gathered sufficient information as to the King’s ill-treatment of various British subjects to warrant our Government acting against him; but all our present advances were rejected. I may again repeat that had we arrived with a strong squadron, with ships which could have entered the river, and decided to proceed to Bangkok in a war vessel, there would have been little opposition to signing a treaty; but Sir James thought that not much would be gained by forcing a convention on the Siamese.

Satisfied that nothing could be done, Sir James sent to the Foreign Minister the value of all presents received, and we started for the mouth of the river in the state barges, and soon found ourselves on board the Sphynx on our way to Singapore. Our only success had been the discovery that Chaufa Mungkut was favourable to the English, that he was an educated prince, who could converse and correspond in our language, and that when he came to the throne he would be ready to negotiate.

On our arrival in Singapore we received the particulars of the debate of July 12, 1850, which had taken place in the House of Commons concerning our proceedings against the Seribas pirates. Though Mr Hume’s motion had been rejected by a great majority, Sir James justly complained that no minister had stood up to express their approval of his policy.

However, though these attacks might irritate, they could not do away with the pleasure afforded by the good news from Sarawak. The civil war which had broken out in Sambas between the Chinese gold-working companies and the Sultan, backed by the Dutch, had caused about 4000 Chinese agriculturists to fly from that country and take refuge in Sarawak. This was a welcome addition, for wherever Chinese settle there are trade and cultivation, and revenue follows in their footsteps.

As soon as we could send off the papers connected with the Siam Mission we proceeded to Sarawak to find great activity there. The Chinese were spreading about the town and in the interior, and the Rajah was soon busy regulating the affairs of the country, preventing the encroachments of the Chinese on the Dyaks, to which they were very prone, and visiting various inland tribes to mark their progress. At one of those villages we were struck by the intelligent questions put by several of the Dyaks regarding Siam and the neighbouring states, and on inquiry we found that before the advent of the white Rajah the rulers of the country were accustomed to send them to pull an oar in the pirate fleets which then cruised throughout these seas. They had evidently used their eyes to some purpose whilst thus employed.

A very severe attack of fever and ague interrupted the Rajah’s activity, and he was at length persuaded to listen to the voice of his medical man, and to return to England for the benefit of his health. But he first visited Labuan, which he found still making but slow progress; and, though it appeared at one time that there was really about to be an influx of Chinese and Malays from the capital, when it was found that the Governor was returning to England they made up their minds not to move until he came back. Some of the latter had had their prahus towed over by the Nemesis, but they soon went away again, and the contemplated movement never took place. The fact was that at that time they trusted only the English Rajah, and if he were not in Labuan to protect them they would not risk exciting the hostility of the Brunei Government.

We soon started again for Sarawak, and on the 17th of January the Rajah left us for Singapore on his way to England. His three offices were thus filled—Mr Scott, afterwards Sir John Scott, was in charge of the Colony of Labuan; Captain Brooke of the Principality of Sarawak; and I remained as acting Commissioner.

I should mention that whilst we were away attending to Siamese affairs, Mr Balestier, Special Envoy from the United States, went to Sarawak in a frigate, the bearer of a letter from the President to Sir James Brooke, as ruler of the State of Sarawak, proposing a convention between the two countries. As a British official, Sir James thought it right to submit the subject to Lord Palmerston, who found nothing objectionable in the proposed arrangement; however, amid the heated controversy that was in progress, the question was unfortunately neglected.

We had all hoped that this visit to Europe was for health’s sake; but the requisite rest could not be obtained, as Sir James found himself at once pursued by the malignity of his enemies—Mr Wise and the Eastern Archipelago Company—who had found channels to diffuse their false accusations, as I have before noticed, in Mr Hume and Mr Cobden. In the debates in the House, Lord Palmerston spoke out strongly and clearly, and the majority was absolutely crushing; but Joseph Hume did not know when he was beaten, and brought the question again and again before Parliament.

Sir James now turned on his enemies; dragged the Eastern Archipelago Company into court, and the case ended by it being declared that ‘The directors had signed a false certificate, knowing it to be false.’ This was in regard to their capital. Their charter was therefore abrogated and the seal torn off that document. These directors must have bitterly regretted having joined Wise in his campaign against the Rajah.

Sir James was also busy in answering hostile attacks, and his letters addressed to Mr Drummond, M.P., on Mr Hume’s assertions, were considered masterly compositions, completely establishing his case—the view entertained by all reasonable men. Mr Sidney Herbert also determined to break a lance with the Rajah, but soon repented of his temerity and retired discomfited from the field. Sir James had this advantage over his adversaries, that his conduct in Borneo had been marked by so much courage, and was so straightforward and honourable, that they could find no weak point in his armour.

A great dinner was given to Sir James Brooke at the London Tavern, on the 30th April 1852, attended by over two hundred men of distinction, and among the many speeches that were made, one by Baron Alderson was especially remarkable. He observed, ‘that the greatest benefactors of the human race have been most abused in their own lifetime,’ but notwithstanding this, ‘he promised him the approbation of his own conscience, the approbation of all good and reasonable men, and of Almighty God, who does justice and who will reward.’

The speech of the evening, however, was that of the guest. Those who had never heard him before were surprised and delighted. His noble presence, his refined manner, the charm of his voice, quite captivated them, whilst his words carried conviction. He wound up by saying, ‘Do not disgrace your public servants by inquiries generated in the fogs of base suspicions; for, remember, a wrong done is like a wound received—the scar is ineffaceable. It may be covered by glittering decorations, but there it remains to the end.’ Prophetic words!

Lord Derby’s Government was now in office, and Lord Malmesbury settled with Sir James Brooke that he should be appointed Her Majesty’s representative in the Further East, to enable him to negotiate treaties with foreign powers. He was to begin with Siam and Cochin China. A General Election, however, took place in the autumn of 1852, which sealed the fate of the Conservative Ministry. Sir James had already been named Envoy to Siam, and would have proceeded at once to that country by the special wish of Chaufa Mungkut, the new king, when the Mission was suddenly and unexpectedly put off, owing to His Majesty’s desire to have further time to complete the elaborate funeral ceremonies required by custom for his brother, the late king. Ever since our mission to Siam in 1850, Chaufa Mungkut had kept up a private correspondence with the Rajah of Sarawak, in whose doings he showed great interest.

So closed the year 1852, and on the 1st January 1853 appeared the list of the new ministers—the Coalition Ministry of Lord Aberdeen. ‘England loves not coalitions,’ said D’Israeli; and we certainly did not love this one. Probably to strengthen their parliamentary majority, and yielding to the influence of Mr Cobden, the new Government decided to grant Mr Hume’s demand and issue a Commission to inquire into the conduct of Sir James Brooke. Sir James himself had always courted inquiry, and therefore the Ministry might have communicated their intention to him before he left England, which he had decided to do during the first week in April. But instead of consulting with him, they tried to keep the whole affair dark, and it was only accidentally that Sir James heard of it. I never could understand how a frank, loyal man like Lord Clarendon could lend himself to such proceedings, but I suppose he was overruled by Lord Aberdeen and Mr Sidney Herbert.

Finding that their determination to issue a Commission of Inquiry could no longer be concealed from Sir James Brooke, they wrote to him officially on the subject, and stated that they would call on the Governor-General of India to choose Commissioners. They further assured Sir James that ‘the inquiry should be full, fair and complete.’ But the whole transaction had been so underhand, so humiliating to him personally, so derogatory to him as ruler of Sarawak, that he felt it bitterly, and he closed his despatch to Lord Clarendon, April 4, 1853, the day he left England, with these words: ‘It is with sorrow unmixed with anger that I leave the world to judge the services I have rendered and the treatment I have received.’

On Sir James Brooke’s arrival in Singapore he found that while the Government had been reticent with him, they had been confidential with Mr Hume, who repaid that confidence by divulging all the details of the proposed Commission to the editor of a hostile paper in Singapore. This personage made the most of it, and indulged in violent tirades, in which he gloated over the disgrace which had fallen upon Sir James. But this abuse affected none of the Rajah’s friends, who were the flower of Singapore society.

No ships of war were now at his disposal, and I doubt whether in his then state of mind he would have accepted their services. He returned to Sarawak in a small merchant brig, the Weraff, commanded by a cheerful little Frenchman.

His reception in his adopted country might have consoled him for the injustice of his own Government, for never had he received a more sincere welcome. The whole population was astir, and the hill on which Government House stood, as well as the house itself, was crammed with his joyous subjects; but he soon complained of being tired. We noticed that the Rajah’s face looked swollen, and I heard a native say he had purunasi, but none of us understood the word, which meant smallpox in the language of the north. Fever came on, and I used to sit for hours with him. At last it was manifest to everyone that it was smallpox. No sooner did he hear this than he insisted that all those who had not suffered from that disease should leave the room, and he chose his attendants among the Malays and submitted to native treatment. His cousin, Arthur Crookshank, watched over him, and all would have braved the danger of contagion, but he would have none of us with him. A Mr Horsburgh, a missionary, who thought he had passed through the ordeal, joined those who were nursing him.

By the Rajah’s express order our hill was tabooed, and all were forbidden to approach for fear the disease might spread; but this rule was afterwards relaxed in favour of those who had already suffered from it, and as most of the Malays were in that case, they came every day to inquire. There was no doubt of the intense feeling of anxiety that oppressed the people. There were prayers in the mosques, votive offerings by Klings and Chinese, and as for the Dyaks, they were in despair. However, the crisis passed, and then the Rajah was overwhelmed with presents. Scented water was brought for his bath; delicate dishes, to tempt his appetite, came from the native ladies; and the rejoicing was true and heartfelt. We all remained near the Rajah, and as soon as we were permitted eagerly joined in nursing him. The attack had been most severe, and it would have been difficult for a casual acquaintance to have recognised the same man in our chief, who had just escaped from the very jaws of death.

As soon as the Rajah was sufficiently recovered, he decided to visit the capital. The Sultan Omar Ali was dead, and Pangeran Mumein had been chosen to fill that office, although he did not belong to the royal family. We started in the same little merchant brig Weeraff, and were soon at the capital. The Rajah knew that every kind of intrigue had been going on during his long absence. The Eastern Archipelago Company had sent their agent to try and induce the late Sultan to complain of the conduct of Her Majesty’s Commissioner; and the Ex-Lieutenant-Governor of Labuan had also written to the Brunei Government to tell them of the Commission, and to insinuate that Sir James was no longer the powerful personage that he had been. The Queen had decided to inquire into his conduct; so now was the time to act. However, these intrigues completely failed.

The Rajah had not been a week in the capital when his influence was as completely re-established as when he had an admiral and a squadron at his back. The grant of Sarawak was confirmed, and a new deed was made out, giving him the government of the rivers, as far as the Rejang, on the payment of £1000 a year. Not even Mr Hume could say that he obtained these concessions by the use of force.

While we were in Brunei, we lodged in the Sultan’s palace, and were fed from the royal kitchen; we found the cuisine excellent. The Sultan and pangerans were constant visitors, and we enjoyed our stay among them. Not only did the Brunei Government confirm public grants, but they handed over to the Rajah the originals of the letters addressed to them by Mr Napier and others, showing how active his enemies had been as soon as it was known that a Commission of Inquiry had been granted by our vacillating ministers.

Nothing could better illustrate the conduct and character of the Rajah than the results of this visit. Here was this man, under the ban of the British Government, exposed to every insult from a reptile press—fortunately among English papers a very small minority—and apparently in deep disgrace. Yet in his own adopted country he was respected, loved and trusted beyond any other man by all races and creeds.

Upon our return to Sarawak we heard of Lord Clarendon’s instructions to the Commission which was to inquire into Sir James Brooke’s conduct and position. As I propose to devote a few pages to it later on, I need not dwell upon them now.