CHAPTER XXIX

_DIDO_--BORNEO

[Sidenote: 1843. June 6.]

We now began to prepare for work of another sort. After our small flotilla had started, the _Dido_ took a berth about two miles inside the entrance of the Sarebas River, off Pulo Burong, by way of securing our retreat.

We had daily accounts of the formidable resistance the pirates intended to make. By the 8th our preparations were complete. The neighbouring Seriffs sent assurances of their good intentions to the Rajah.

Seriff Jaffer, who lived with an industrious but warlike race up the Linga, a branch of the Batang Lupar River, had never been known to commit an act of piracy, but had been frequently at war with the Sarebas and Sekarrans, offered to join our expedition.

Seriff Sahib, lived up the Sadong River, adjoining the Sarebas territory. Macota, a smooth-tongued villain, known among us as “The Serpent,” sent Brooke and myself an invitation to partake of a feast while on our way up the Sarebas.

This invite was accompanied by a present of two handsome spears and a porcupine. He also offered to give up a woman and her children whom he had, with the assistance of the Sekarrans, captured from the Sow Dyaks on the Sarawak River.

Further to the eastward, and up the Batang Lupar, into which the Sekarran runs, lived another powerful Seriff, by name Mulla, elder brother of Sahib.

All these, through fear, sent submissive messages; but their turn was yet to come. We proceeded towards the Sarebas capital.

[Sidenote: June 8.]

I have neither space nor time to give all the names nor describe the force, and am afraid there are few now alive whose names it would be a pleasure for me to record. Lieutenant Wilmot, who commanded the _Dido_ force, was in the pinnace. With him were W. H. Partridge, mate; W. Simpson, assistant-surgeon; Hallowes, midshipman.

In first cutter: D’Aeth, midshipman; Bloomfield Douglas, as interpreter; Mr. Collinson, boatswain. Second cutter: Mr. Elliott, master, and Jenkins, midshipman.

In the _Jolly Bachelor_: Lieutenant Tottenham, and Comber, midshipman; also Mr. Brooke’s medical attendant, Dr. Treacher, as well as an amateur, Mr. Ruppell. Total force from _Dido_ was eighty, officers and men.

The all-important “Datu Brooke” was with me in the gig. He was also attended by a sampan and crew he had brought from Singapore. Brooke’s coxswain, Seboo, we shall long remember. He was civil only to his master, and, I believe, brave while in his company. Seboo was stupid-looking, but a powerfully-built sort of savage. When going into

## action he went on his knees, holding a loaded musket before him.

In the second gig was Lieutenant E. Gunnell, whose troublesome duty it was to keep order. Stores were in a tope: the whole formed a novel scene.

It was curious to contemplate the different feelings that actuated Malays and Dyaks: many from attachment to Brooke, some for plunder, but I think the majority to gratify revenge.

We did not get far the first day, as the tope was slow, and carried that most essential part of all expeditions--the commissariat.

[Sidenote: June 9.]

We had got another thirty miles. I pulled from one end to the other of Horton’s Mosquito Fleet with as much pride as Sir William Parker must have felt when heading seventy-five British ships up the Yang-tse-Kiang in the heart of the Chinese Empire.

I had left Brooke with the youngsters on board the _Jolly Bachelor_. Late in the afternoon, when well in advance, I observed, hidden under the bushes, a long canoe--no doubt a look-out; and I daresay my gig, with its Kadjang coverings, was taken for one of themselves.

I fired at the fore-part of her. There was a rush into the jungle. On examination we found the bullet had gone through both sides of an iron kettle, and I expect astonished the cook.

During the day several deserted boats with arms in them were taken from the banks and destroyed.

Before we brought up for the night we had to face the bore, a wall of water, the approach of which might be seen near a mile off. It is formed by the contraction of the river, and rises with the flood-tide some 8 feet.

Anchors were let go, and by keeping a strain on the cables we partially moved with it. The bore soon loses strength, giving anchors time to bite. After it had passed we took up our berths in two lines up a reach of the river. My gig was secured under the shade of a large tree, near the inner line of boats.

[Sidenote: June 10.]

Late in the evening, when the song and joke had ceased and lights out, the paddles of a canoe were heard and hailed by each of our boats in succession, to which they replied, “We belong to your party.” And it was not until we heard the yell of triumph given by six or eight voices that we found how we had been imposed upon. The beating of gongs and firing of guns went on all night. We weighed at daylight. Our rapid advance with a strong tide must have been seen from the various hills which now rose to our view. Brooke had rejoined me in the gig.

[Sidenote: June 11.]

We were somewhat ahead of the boats, tide sweeping us up; had we been inclined to retreat, we should have found it difficult. A sharp turn brought us into a straight and widened river, at the end of which was a cleared hill surmounted by a battery of brass guns. Halfway between the battery and ourselves, in 9 feet of water, was a freshly-made barrier, formed of long poles driven in--4 feet apart--one in front of the other. The ends above water were made to cross, so as to form a crutch, on which trees were laid horizontally, firmly secured by _rôtans_. It took our boats, assisted by the native followers, some minutes to cut a couple of openings, Greenhill battery meanwhile playing on them. D’Aeth, in the cutter, was the first to get through.

Just before what I have attempted to describe, we observed a small gap in the barrier under some overhanging branches. Having a strong tide with us, Brooke and I thought we could dash through. We hung for a few seconds, when we were covered with leaves and small boughs. The piratical gunner on the Greenhill battery, although the line was good, had given too much elevation, and I believe the tide brought us up earlier than they expected, as the pirates came swarming down, but too late for their spears to reach before we had got out clear into the open space, with D’Aeth, in the cutter, on same side with ourselves. He was at once off to the Greenhill.

However smart these piratical gentry might be with their ordnance afloat, D’Aeth and his blue-jackets and cutlasses were in possession of their battery before they had time to reload. We had only three men wounded while cutting through the barrier.

Our native auxiliaries were soon with us: the dreaded Sarebas stronghold of two centuries no longer existed, and the baskets made to hold “Datu Brooke’s” head and mine were not wanted, this time.

The pirates ran away as our men landed, and a few minutes after the native allies had got to work the whole town was ablaze. After rest and refreshment, Brooke proposed following up the fugitives, and started with Horton in the pinnace, accompanied by some native followers. I remained in the _Jolly Bachelor_ to see the amputation of poor Batterson’s arm (one of my best men, captain of the forecastle).

It was now late, drizzly rain falling, when the booming of the pinnace’s heavy gun showed that Horton had come in contact with the pirates. This was responded to by one of those simultaneous war-yells, apparently from every part of the country. I jumped into my gig, taking my pet bugler, John Eager, who was placed in the bow. Our arms were in readiness; we proceeded to join the combatants.

Tide had just turned against us, and as we advanced up the river, trees hung over many parts, nearly meeting across. At the same time, the occasional firing that was kept up assured me that the enemy were on the alert, and with all the advantages of local knowledge, as well as darkness, on their side. From the winding of the stream, too, the yells appeared to come from every direction--sometimes ahead, sometimes astern.

We had pulled, feeling our way for nearly two hours, when a sudden quick discharge of musketry on my left intimated that we were approaching the scene of action. At the same time we passed several large war-boats hauled up on the bank. I felt convinced that our party was surrounded, and that we should have to fight our way to each other. Strongly impressed with this idea, I approached with caution. In the distance I could dimly discern a crowd that I knew I must pass to get to our people. I prepared the crew to do their best--pull for their lives, and told John Eager to strike up “Rory O’More.” When abreast, emptied both barrels into the thick of them.

Conceive my horror, fair reader, when I heard Horton’s voice, “Don’t fire, sir; we are here.” My first exclamation was, “How could you allow anything to approach without hailing?”

No one was killed. One bullet, after striking the bow of the pinnace, hit the breastplate of a Royal Marine and knocked him into the water. The other went through both cheeks of one of our native followers without breaking a tooth.

Horton’s explanation was that they were keeping out of sight of a superior force of pirates, who were near enough to throw spears among them, and they believed themselves surrounded. I believe “Rory O’More” had dispersed the enemy.

[Sidenote: June 12.]

Daylight brought a flag of truce. Brooke sent an unarmed Malay to meet them; after a little palaver they came to our boats. The message was, they were ready to abide by any terms we might dictate. I promised that hostilities should cease for two hours, but that we could treat only with the chiefs, whose persons should be protected, and invited them to a conference at 1 P.M.

At the appointed hour the chiefs made their appearance, dressed in their best, but looking haggard and dejected. Brooke, as “Tuan Besar,” officiated as spokesman. He fully explained that our invasion of their country was not for the purposes of pillage or gain to ourselves, but as a punishment for their piracy. He reminded them that they had been fully warned two years before that the British nation would no longer allow the native trade between Singapore and the adjacent islands to be cut off and plundered as it had been.

They were humble and submissive, and admitted their lives were forfeited; said if we “ordered” them to die they were prepared. Finally, they promised to refrain for ever from piracy, and offered hostages for their good behaviour.

[Sidenote: June 13.]

On our return to the still smoking ruins of the town of Paddi, we found that Seriff Jaffer, our ally, with his 800 warriors had not been idle. It was a melancholy sight: thirteen bodies lying in a row. How many wounded escaped we didn’t know. Collecting our forces, we dropped leisurely down the river, but not without a parting yell of triumph from our Dyak force--a yell that should have made the hearts of those quail whose wives and children lay concealed in the heart of the jungle, near where we had held the conference.

[Sidenote: June 14.]

We rejoined the commissariat tope and prepared for an attack on Pakoo. With four days’ provisions we went up another branch of the river. An hour before sunset we arrived at the foot of two newly built stockades, but the people knew of the example at Paddi, and were in a state of panic. They stood but one discharge and fled. Pakoo and the adjacent country were destroyed. I saw here the operation of cooking and preserving heads, and a very unpleasing one it was.

[Sidenote: June 15.]

At daylight the smaller boats proceeded up and met a flag of truce. An offer was made by the chiefs to come to terms. But as they denied having any connection with their neighbours, the Rembas pirates, we returned to Boling, and made preparations for giving _them_ also a lesson they would not forget.

[Sidenote: June 16.]

The tides not suiting to take us the whole way, and not having sufficient moon to make a night attack, we brought up about sunset, a quarter-tide below Rembas Forts. No end of monkeys about, but no time to play with them.

[Sidenote: June 17.]

Proceeding at daylight, but met the most formidable barriers we had yet encountered, and which detained us some time in cutting through. However, when this was accomplished the resistance was small.

Looting of bullocks, goats, and poultry very great; likewise the destruction of forts, houses, war-boats, grain, fruit-trees, etc. The Rembas was by far the richest and finest country we had seen. The lesson the chiefs received will not be forgotten. In the afternoon, collecting our boats and prizes, and dismissing allies, we prepared to return. Moving down with the ebb tide, we reached the tope at midnight. Grub very low.

[Sidenote: June 18.]

Shifted into the tope to stretch my legs, hurrying the boats back to the ships. The tope a dull brute though, with poor sick Dr. Simpson and two badly wounded men. Anchored at the mouth of the river.

[Sidenote: June 19.]

Light winds and calm. Did not progress. Other boats ahead. Feel tired, not having had clothes off, except to bathe, for a fortnight.

[Sidenote: June 20.]

What we make with the wind we lose with the tide. Still off the mouth of the Sarebas.

[Sidenote: June 22.]

At daylight rigged jury-mast. Light breeze. Ship still twenty miles off. Simpson worse. Took to my gig, getting on board in the evening. Glad of it, too. Sent pinnace with provisions, and to fetch sick and wounded. Received orders to return to China.

[Sidenote: June 23.]

Left the ship with Brooke on first of the flood-tide. Came up with our valiant auxiliaries, who were waiting to accompany us to the capital. Bade Muda Hassim farewell. Much saluting on all sides. Parting dinner with Brooke.

[Sidenote: June 24.]

Left friend Brooke’s hospitable board at the early hour of 3 A.M., and started first of the flood for the ship. Got on board at nine, and weighed for Singapore.

[Sidenote: June 25.]

At sea. No spare time to look for pirates. Good cruising-ground, though! Left our marks on some of them, poor devils! Did some good for trade, and proportionate harm to pirates.

[Sidenote: June 27.]

Improving breeze. All good wine done. Time to get into Singapore again.

My stay in Sarawak was of short duration, because, before I had time to carry out the arrangements made to put down this horrid piracy, the _Dido_ was, owing to changes in the distribution of the fleet, recalled to China. Not expecting to revisit Borneo during the period the ship had to run before completing her usual time of commission, it is gratifying to read the following in my friend Brooke’s journal, alluding to that time:

[Illustration: _A River Scene._]

“I came myself in the _Dido_, and I may say that her appearance was the consummation of my enterprise. The natives saw directly that there was a force to protect and to punish, and most of the chiefs, conscious of their evil ways, trembled. Muda Hassim was gratified, and felt that this power would exalt his authority, both in Borneo and along the coast, and he was not slow in magnifying the force of the _Dido_. The state in which Captain Keppel and his officers visited the Rajah all heightened the effect; the marines and the band excited the admiration as well as the fears of the natives. I felt the Rajah’s hand tremble at the first interview, and not all the well-known command of countenance could conceal his emotion.”

Gentle reader, excuse my vanity if I continue a little further with my friend’s journal, although it gets rather personal:

“I believe the first emotion was anything but pleasurable; but Captain Keppel’s conciliatory and kind manner soon removed any feeling of fear, and all along was of the greatest use to me in our subsequent doings.”

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