by Nigel Barley
The pursuit of the routed pirates was taken up, bloody fighting in the rain-soaked, darkened jungle, hour after hour, and then – a dawn truce. James lectured the local leaders on the advantages of trade over piracy, drawing again perhaps on his Athenaeum article. ‘They were very humble and submissive; admitted that their lives were forfeited: and if we said they were to die, they were prepared, although, they explained, they were equally willing to live. They promised to refrain for ever from piracy, and offered hostages for their good behaviour.’6 (James was still new to Bornean warfare. In later years he would find it much more convenient to take hostage the ancient Chinese jars in the longhouses that were fabulously valuable heirlooms.) The force pressed on towards Padi, pausing to collect the heads of slain enemies. Tombs were not spared by the Dayak in these operations. ‘Why should we eat the hard-caked rice at the edge of the pot when there is plenty of soft rice at the centre?’ they asked.
‘The operation of extracting the brains from the lower part of the skull, with a bit of bamboo shaped like a spoon, preparatory to preserving is not a pleasing one. The head is then dried, with the flesh and hair on it, suspended over a slow fire.’7 Although the Brooke raj would always invoke the gradual eradication of headhunting as one of its self-evident civilising justifications, in fact to this day most of the heads in Dayak longhouses are identified as taken in the service of the Brookes, whose campaigns greatly inflated the currency of human heads. While the Malays wanted plunder, the Dayaks fought for heads, which they needed for the decent burials of prominent men and for marriage. No self-respecting woman would do anything but sneer at a suitor who brought no head. The future Rajah Charles, always something of a misogynist, would regard the Dayak women as the driving force of the whole headhunting complex, which is what justified the suffering they were subjected to when villages were razed, as they frequently were, on his orders.
A very little razing here sufficed to bring the people to truce, the yielding of hostages and the promise to attend a peace conference in Kuching. The force pressed on to Rembas, where there was a higher proportion of Malays – who might be expected to have firearms – in the population, but now the Sarawak forces too had been reinforced, by some nine hundred Lingga men who noted which way the wind was blowing.
At Rembas, the tide was not up until just before daylight; and having no moon to light us, a night attack was not considered advisable; so that we brought up about a quarter-tide below the town on the evening of the 16th … We advanced early in the morning, and soon came up to a succession of formidable barriers, more troublesome to cut through than any we had hitherto encountered. About a mile below the town we landed 700 of the Linga Dayaks on the left bank of the river, who were to separate into two divisions, – commanded by Sherip Jaffar and his son, a remarkably fine and spirited youth, – and creep stealthily through the jungle, for which the country was well adapted, so as to get to the rear of the town and forts, and make a simultaneous attack on the first shot being fired from our boats. The last barrier (and there were four of them) was placed just within point-blank range; the gig being a light boat, I managed to haul her over, close to the bank, and advanced so as to be both out of sight and out of range; and just as our first boat came up with the barrier, I pushed out from under the bank, and opened a fire of musketry on the stockade, which was full of men. This, with the war-yell that followed from their rear (both unexpected), together with their fears having already been worked upon by the destruction of Padi and the defeat of Paku, threw them into the greatest confusion. They fled in all directions without provoking us by firing a shot, although we found the guns loaded. Sherip Jaffar and his Dayaks were gratified by having all the fighting to themselves, and by some very pretty hand-to-hand encounters. We were much amused afterwards by their own account of the heroic deeds they had performed. Lives were lost on both sides, and heads taken. This Rembas was by far the largest and strongest place we had assaulted.8
But it was a humane victory. ‘A few heads were brought away by our Dayak followers as trophies; but there was no unnecessary sacrifice of life, and I do not believe there was a woman or child hurt.’9 It has been suggested that this is something of a whitewash but the figures will, of course, never be known. James Brooke always believed in teaching a firm lesson but never revelled in bloodshed for its own sake. Keppel meanwhile had begun to acquire magical powers in the eyes of the locals and was now known to command the tidal bore on the river. Before he could pass on to inflict an even tougher lesson on the Sakarran (Skrang) Dayaks, he was recalled by his superiors to China; but henceforth locals would call him Rajah Laut – the Sea King.
Scarce had Keppel departed than another British ship arrived, but this time it was the Semarang under the appropriately named Captain Sir Edward Belcher. Belcher was a very different proposition from Keppel, being a grumpy, sceptical damn-and-blast man, unwilling to be impressed. His task was to report back to London on James’s installation in Sarawak and the state of affairs in Borneo more generally. He was particularly to pay attention to the coal deposits of Labuan. He did not think much of the mission, was not prepared to waste a minute longer than necessary over this distraction from China service, and even used the unkind word ‘balderdash’ of it. Moreover, he proved to be largely immune to the heroic charm of James Brooke and took a dim view of all his ‘poodlefaker’ endeavours.
Yet once again fate intervened and Belcher’s proud vessel struck a rock as he was hurrying away to Brunei. The ship capsized and he was ignominiously obliged to stay and accept Brooke hospitality. James, moreover, housed, fed and entertained the entire crew royally while helping with the righting of the vessel.
Belcher’s visit brings us a new source, in one of those adolescent midshipmen that James was so fond of, Frank Marryat, son of the writer of Masterman Ready, who testifies fervently to the appeal of such a romantic figure and such an enchanting place for most of the crew – apart from Belcher.
It was a beautiful starry night and, strolling through the village, I soon made acquaintance with a native Dyak, who requested me to enter his house. He introduced me to his family, consisting of several fine girls and a young lad. The former were naked from the shoulders to below the breasts, where a pair of stays, composed of several circles of whalebone, with brass fastenings were secured round their waists; and to the stays was attached a cotton petticoat, reaching to below their knees. This was the whole of their attire. They were much shorter than European women, but well made; very interesting in their appearance, and affable and friendly in their manners. Their eyes were dark and piercing, and I may say there was something wicked in their furtive glances; their noses were but slightly flattened; the mouth rather large; but when I beheld the magnificent teeth which required all its size to display, I thought this rather an advantage. Their hair was superlatively beautiful, and would have been envied by many a courtly dame. It was jet black, and of the finest texture and hung in graceful masses down the back, nearly reaching to the ground … As it was late I bade my new friends farewell by shaking hands all round. The girls laughed immoderately at this way of bidding goodbye which, of course, was to them quite novel. I regretted afterwards that I had not attempted the more agreeable way of bidding ladies farewell which, I presume they would have understood better; as I believe kissing is a universal language, perfectly understood from the equator to the pole.10
James’s own attentions were otherwise engaged in the form of the thirteen-year-old great-nephew of the Bishop of Calcutta, William Brereton. ‘He is a delicate and gentlemanly boy, and his age is tender; and when I think of our Charlie [Charles Johnson] I cannot help my heart expanding toward him.’ In the capsizing of the vessel he had lost all but his trousers. Elsewhere James notes, ‘Writing about boys, I have got a sick one with me, of the name of Brereton, a distant relative of mine – he being a great-nephew of the Bishop of Calcutta; a fine little fellow … I have got quite fond of him since he has been here; and somehow there is something in the posi
tion of a young volunteer of thirteen years of age, which rouses one’s kind feelings; so young, yet forced into manhood, to share privations and fatigues, when yet a boy …’11
Brereton would later be engaged in the Sarawak administration and die of dysentery in the Skrang fort, at the still-tender age of twenty-four. But for the time being all was japes and juvenile disporting with the ‘mids’. ‘I do not know what the natives thought of the European Rajah Brooke playing at leapfrog, but it is certain that the Rajah did not care what they thought. I have said little of Mr. Brooke, but I will now say that a more mild, amiable and celebrated person I never knew. Every one loved him, and he deserved it.’12
Help came too late for the Semarang in the form of a whole fleet of British vessels – the Diana, the Vixen, the Harlequin and the Wanderer – but this huge display of British sea power did James no harm, especially since they all sailed off with him to Brunei. Here Belcher was reluctant to land, as smallpox was raging in Borneo Proper. James boldly went ashore to a big set-piece conference, Badrudeen performing with distinction – with the guns of the Semarang openly trained on the town to reinforce his eloquence – and Brunei’s co-operation was complete. Belcher never properly visited the coal deposits that he was to assess, yet later he would write an authoritatively dismissive report of the whole of Brunei and Sarawak, denouncing the coal as unminable and the Sultan as a savage. But James used the visit to get yet another piece of paper from Brunei confirming his appointment and this time it conferred the government of Sarawak upon himself and his heirs in perpetuity. There were a few troubling clauses about confining his activities to Sarawak alone, but they would be forgotten in time. Crucially, he could no longer be dismissed by the Sultan. He had finally become a freehold rajah in his own right.
Charm. James Brooke reeked of it in a way that does not easily come across in his own somewhat inflated prose. Sarawak was bathed in it as in limpid moonlight. Charm was for James a major instrument of foreign policy. Had the inhabitants been less beautiful or James less of a dashing man’s man, his little kingdom could not have thrived. Whenever charm failed, the whole state wobbled.
He was not unconscious of it. ‘Do you remember when young at Bath, that people did not understand me? Now everyone understands me, and I really think I have acquired, or am acquiring, the most plausible and pleasing manners! I am not in the least shy or reserved to outward appearance, and I really do all I can to shake myself clear of this inherent complaint. Restraint and company I bear far better than formerly …’13 So James to his mother in 1844.
The next beneficiary of the fatal charm was to be Admiral Sir William Parker, Keppel’s superior officer. James made a special trip to Penang to meet him, and was delighted to find that all Keppel’s anti-piratical operations met with his unreserved approval. In fact, the fleet was off to do some more pirate-bashing in Sumatra on Sir William’s authority. Did James not want to come along? He did. If nothing else, the exertion might lift the melancholy caused by the news of the death of his adored mother.
The first battle, at Batu, was one-sided but the second, at Murdu, was a different affair. The locals were unintimidated Malays who owed allegiance to the formidable Sultan of Aceh, and were used to taking on and beating western vessels. Indeed, they had recently taken and plundered a merchant ship with great loss of life. James described it to Templer in vivid terms.
The rascals were prepared for us, and we had five hours as pretty fighting as you would desire. We beat the enemy from point to point, and burned and destroyed as we advanced: but the country was thickly wooded and afforded excellent cover for the enemy’s musketry, which annoyed us considerably. In short, it was prettily contested, and we had several times to load and drive the enemy from their stockades. Having burned the place, we returned under a galling fire, to our vessels; and though we had accomplished all we were sent for, yet we could not well say that the Murdu people were either subdued or cowed … I was likewise amongst the wounded, as in charging the stockade I got a spear thrust, which cut my eyebrow in two, a light but very bloody scratch, which has slightly injured my beauty; and at the same time a shot inside my right arm, which rendered me for the time hors-de-combat: my eye is now well, and my arm so well that you may observe that I write as badly as usual … Behold me then a wounded hero, and I must confess that my vanity was flattered by the crew of the Wanderer who made a request to be allowed to cheer me when I quitted the brig.14
The compliment was, if anything, made sweeter by the presence and consternation of Keppel – fresh back from China – who rebuked him for his rashness. There would be no lack of cooperation from the Navy now. He had charmed them all in their own language.
In the summer of 1844, the British Navy made its second military intervention in the affairs of Sarawak, owing to what was effectively a military old boys’ network. Sherip Sahib, who financed and encouraged pirate raids, together with James’s old enemy, Makota, had been at work during James’s absence in Sumatra, spreading rumours that his departure was permanent and assembling a fleet of some two hundred Dayak vessels on the Sadong River as in the good old days. Keppel again interpreted his orders so as to favour his friend, and assembled a small fleet of vessels that stopped off in Kuching.
I found the place much altered for the better. Mr. Brooke had established himself in a new house, built on a beautiful and elevated mound, from which the intriguing Makota had just been ejected on my first visit. Neat and pretty-looking little Swiss cottages had sprung up on all the most picturesque spots, which gave it quite a European look. He had also made an agreeable addition to his English society; and a magazine [shop] of English merchandise had been opened to trade with the natives, together with many other improvements.15
Pausing only to get another covering letter, requesting aid, from Hassim and an Islamic blessing from the local imam, HMS Dido and the Company paddlesteamer, Phlegethon, sailed up on the flood tide, accompanied by a flotilla of smaller ships. A series of strong forts with copious guns had been set up by the ‘pirates’ and, after a little military foreplay, a major engagement ensued in which the Sarawak forces suffered some losses, but finally the enemy stronghold at Patusan was comprehensively laid waste. James and Badrudeen were in attendance while Dayak warriors finished the job at close quarters, gathering in the heads and making hay with the Sherip’s ‘curious and extensive wardrobe’. As a precaution, many had shaved their own heads to make them less attractive to the enemy and harder to carry away if taken. Before this, James had presented Sherip Sahib with a twin-barrelled shotgun, here embarrassingly deployed against him, but now the forces managed to destroy some sixty enemy cannon and two tons of gunpowder.
The next two days were spent razing the town. But Keppel had other business.
I also had an account to settle with that cunning rascal Makota, for his aiding and abetting Sherip Sahib in his piracies. He had located himself very pleasantly near a bend in the river, about a mile above Sherip Sahib’s settlement, and was in the act of building extensive fortifications, when I had the satisfaction of returning the visit and some of the compliments he would have conferred on my friend Mr. Brooke at Sarawak. Badrudeen, the Rajah’s brother, had likewise been duped by this fellow, and was exceedingly anxious to insert the blade of a very sharp and beautiful kris into the body of his late friend. Mr. Brooke, however, was anxious to save his life, which he afterwards had the satisfaction of doing. I shall never forget the tiger-like look of the young Pangeran when we landed together in the hopes of surprising the ‘Serpent’ in his den; but he was too quick for us, having decamped with his followers, and in so great a hurry as to leave all his valuables behind, – among them a Turkish pipe, some chairs once belonging to the Royalist, and other presents from Mr. Brooke. Every thing belonging to him was burnt or destroyed save some handsome brass guns. There was one of about 12cwt. that had been lent by the Sultan when Makota was in favour, and which I returned to Badrudeen for his brother.16
It is clear here how fa
r James dominates the perceptions of the British, who constantly repeat his own opinions as their own direct experience.
The forces moved on, and a running battle began that lasted four days. This time it was the aged Kuching Malay leader, the Datuk Patinggi Ali, who displayed the military gall that is gallantry. ‘Patinggi Ali was likewise absent, in pursuit of the enemy that had been driven from the stockades with whom he had had a hand-to-hand fight, the whole of which – being on rising ground – was witnessed by our boats’ crews, who could not resist hailing his return from his gallant achievement with three hearty British cheers.’17 Ali was perhaps learning from James, but learned only too well. A few days later he would be killed after rashly charging the enemy while heavily outnumbered.
The river was now too small for the ships, so the combined forces took to the boats and pressed on, hacking their way through barricades thrown across the stream. Malay boats could be ninety feet long with a large cannon mounted at the bow and three or four swivel guns. Dayak boats might be even longer, some ten feet broad and manned by sixty to eighty men. Spears, poison darts, swords, muskets, rockets and swivel guns spat death in both directions. There were sallies, ambushes, acts of boyish heroism and noble deaths – the different races dealing with their dead in their various ways: burning, burying, consigning to the deep. They fired the country as they advanced and pushed ever further up the Skrang River from one engagement to another, often in great personal danger. ‘It would be difficult to describe the scene as I found it,’ wrote Keppel.