CHAPTER XI.
CHINESE INSURRECTION.

These lines were most applicable to us during the year 1856. It was such rest and peace when our Bishop returned from Calcutta and soothed all the griefs and heartburnings we had suffered the four months he was away. Then ensued the performance of his new episcopal duties. Mr. Gomes was ordained priest in March. Confirmations took place, of our elder school-children, who were all baptized when they first came to us; also many Chinese Christians too, who had long attended the Bible classes at the mission-house and stood firm to their baptismal vows. In April we had another baby girl; and soon after, the Bishop went to Labuan, to arrange about a church being built there. Unfortunately he caught fever at Labuan; which declared itself at Singapore on his return. We were both very ill, and glad of doctors' advice at Singapore; but Labuan fever returns again and again, though in a slighter form after a while, and was for years a constant trial to the Bishop's strength. When we returned to Sarawak in October, our party was increased. Mr. and Mrs. Crookshank had come out from England—she a bride, and quite a new element of youth and beauty for Sarawak. A lady friend and her child and nurse also came on a long visit to us, the air of Sarawak being considered quite a tonic compared to the sea-breeze at Singapore, which was at times visited by a hot wind from Java. Very pleasant days followed our return home. Mrs. Harvey and I, with our children, went for a month to "See-afar" Cottage on the hill of Serambo. I have already mentioned this little house, built by Sir James Brooke as a sanitarium after his attack of small-pox. The only objection to it was, that it was built in the region of clouds: had the hill been five hundred feet higher we should have had the clouds below us, as they are on Penang Hill. The path up the mountain—if path it can be called—is almost a staircase of tumbled rocks, and requires both strength and agility to climb. It was quite beyond me; but I was carried on a man's back, sitting on a bit of plank, with a strip of cloth fastened round my waist and across the man's forehead, my back to his back. The Dyaks are famous mountaineers, their bare feet cling to the stones, or notched trunks of trees thrown from one rock to another. I never felt unsafe on my Dyak friend's back, and he used to laugh when I proposed his setting me down and taking a rest, and say, "You are not as heavy as a basket of durian fruit." These Dyaks have beautiful groves of fruit-trees, and make a good purse in the fruit season by bringing down durians, mangosteen and lansat fruit to sell at Kuching. They also carry all their harvest of paddy up the mountain to their rice-stores in the villages, so they are used to heavy weights.

We took a stock of provisions up with us, fowls and ducks, a goat and her kid, etc., and all the bedding we wanted, for of course there was not much furniture in the cottage. Our first night was unfortunate. We had settled ourselves in the rooms, had our supper, and were about to go to bed, when the servants ran out of the cook-house, which was a stone's-throw from the cottage, crying out, "Fire!" and in a few minutes we saw it wrapped in flames. Of course a house built of sticks and leaves does not take long to burn down to the ground, but we were distressed to hear the bleatings of the little kid which could not be got out in time. The ducks, too, were still in the long basket coop in which they were carried up, and were literally roasted in their feathers before anybody remembered them. A large party of Dyaks were on the spot directly they saw the flames, and they did good service by throwing water on the roof of the cottage, and watching lest the thatch should catch. In the morning they discovered the burnt ducks, and ate them up with much relish, for a Dyak likes the flavour of burnt feathers. The next day the cook-house was rebuilt. These native huts look so clean and fresh when first put up, the straw-coloured attap[6] walls and green leaf roofs are so agreeable to the eye. They quickly turn hay colour and then get discoloured by the wood smoke. Except that we were at times rather short of food, we enjoyed our mountain retreat very much. The bath was a remarkable feature—a natural stone basin, under the shadow of a great rock, fed by the clearest streamlet and sheltered from view by a heavy bit of curtain, was our bathing-place. We carried a little leaf bucket and our towels in our hands, and while we poured the fresh water over our heads we could now and then stop to look at the great expanse of plain and forest, with silver rivers winding amidst them, and blue smoke stealing up here and there to mark a Dyak village. There was, however, a particular rock on the spur of the mountain from whence we always watched the sun set; there was a much wider view from thence. The sea lay on the horizon, and the pointed mountain of Santubong stood on the plain, with other ranges of hills far away. I fear we did little else but watch the glories of earth and sky at that time, and look after our children, who could not be trusted alone a minute on those steep paths.Meanwhile the Bishop was paying a visit to Lundu in his new life-boat, a boat of about twenty-eight feet, with a little covered house in it, and water-tight compartments in the bow and stern to keep her afloat. She was well named, for even in this first voyage she saved the lives of her passengers. From the coast at Santubong you see blue hills far away to the west, which lie in the Lundu country. The sea runs very high, in the north-cast monsoon, between the mouths of these two rivers, the Sarawak and Lundu; and on this occasion the waves on their return from Lundu were fearful. Seven great waves like green hills advanced one after another. The Malay crew prayed aloud with terror. Stahl and the Bishop steered the boat and held their breaths. It looked like rushing into the jaws of death, but the life-boat mounted the big waves one after another, sometimes shuddering with the strain, but buoyant and stiff. The danger past, the crew praised Allah and the good boat; and they, as well as Stahl who had behaved so well at the time of danger, fell into a fit of ague from the nervous shock. We knew on the top of the hill that a fearful storm was raging, but we did not see the white boat flying like a bird over the seven great rollers, or there would have been no sleep for us that night. The crew never forgot it, nor the calm pluck of their steersman the Bishop. I must confess that an attack of fever was the result of all this exertion when he joined us on the hill.The rest of the year 1856 passed away quietly. We were all looking forward to an event which was to improve the English society of the place very much. The Rajah's nephew, Captain Brooke, was bringing out a bride; and her brother, Mr. Charles Grant, another. These four young people were expected in the early spring of 1857, and the Rajah was refurnishing his bungalow to receive these additions to his family. A new piano had arrived, and all sorts of pretty things, to brighten up the cool dark rooms of Government House. Mr. and Mrs. Crookshank were preparing a house for themselves also; and all their boxes, which had remained unopened while they lived with the Rajah, were moved up to their bungalow. Little did we think that all these treasures would be burnt before they were even unpacked!

The Chinese gold-workers of Bau and Seniawan had long given more or less trouble to the Sarawak Government. They were governed by their own self-elected kunsi (magistrates), and recognized their fealty to Sarawak only by the payment of a small tax on the gold they washed from the soil. They sent the gold away to China, and habitually cheated as to the quantity obtained. They also smuggled opium from the Dutch settlement of Sambas, thus defrauding Government of revenue. Worse than all this, they introduced secret societies, or hui, among themselves, and threatened to rebel if any of their kunsi were punished for breaking the laws of the country. At Christmas, 1856, they boasted they could demolish Kuching in one night, if they chose; and that a new Joss House they were building there should furnish them with a pretext to gather by hundreds to set the Joss in his temple, and possess themselves of the place and the Europeans who lived there. These uncomfortable rumours seemed to have some foundation when a new road was discovered which the Chinese had made between Bau and Seniawan, another settlement nearer to Kuching. Mr. Crookshank, who was in charge of the Government, sent word to Mr. Johnson, who immediately came from Sakarran with a fleet of Dyaks, delighted to have a chance of fighting the Chinese, and carrying plenty of heads back to their homes. At the same time a gun-boat was stationed on the river to prevent any communication between Bau and Kuching. Upon this the kunsi came very humbly and begged pardon, declared the whole story was a fabrication, and that they never intended mischief. We only half believed them, but the Dyaks were dismissed, and unfortunately the gun-boat no longer kept watch on the river. Our Christian Chinese teacher "Sing-Song," was of the Kay tribe, the same as the Bau people, and once a month he went there to teach his countrymen. There were a few Christians among them. One, a goldsmith, did his best to let us know that danger was impending, but the kunsi suspected him, and put him in prison; we were therefore quite unprepared for what took place. On the 17th of February, three Chinese kunsi were flogged by order of the court at Kuching, for taking the law into their own hands, and seizing a runaway prisoner, as well as the captain of the boat in which she absconded, although he was not guilty of hiding her. This seems to have put the finishing touch to the factious state of feeling at Bau. The Rajah and the Bishop had determined to take a trip together on the 15th, in the life-boat, to Sadong, and from thence to Linga and Sakarran. The Rajah had been ailing for some time, and we hoped this little voyage would do him good. We prepared all the provisions for this trip: bread and rusks were made, salt meat was cooked, and everything was ready packed in the provision baskets (this was of great importance to us afterwards). That evening we all met out walking, on the only riding-road there was in those days. Rajah spoke to the school-children, and we all amused ourselves with the little Middletons, boys of four and five, strutting along with turbaned hats and long walking-sticks. It was a dull evening, and we all felt unaccountably gloomy. We fancied it was because Rajah was not well enough to come and dine with us, as he had purposed in the morning; but during dinner I remembered afterwards that the Bishop said, "If any sudden alarm were to take place to-night it would rouse him and make him all right."

We certainly went to bed without expecting anything to happen, but, about twelve o'clock, we were roused by shouts and screams, and the firing of guns. We got up and looked out. The Rajah's bungalow was in flames across the river. On our side the Middletons' house was burning, and Mr. Crookshank's new house, a little way up the road, was soon after on fire. The most horrid noises filled the air, there was evidently fighting going on at the two forts at either end of the town by the river's side. We knew there were very few defenders at either of these two forts, and that they would soon be taken; for by this time we were sure it must be the Chinese miners who had fulfilled their threat to take the town. We thought, "When the forts are taken they will come to us." Presently the brothers, William and John Channon, who lived near us, came to our house, bringing their wives and children for shelter. They brought news that the fort near their houses was taken and burnt, and they dare not stay in their own cottages, as they were Government servants, and would be obnoxious to the rebels.

We took our children out of bed and dressed them, and then we all went down to the school-house, from whence we could see the burning houses and hear what was going on in the town. A Chinaman came up from the bazaar, begging us not to go to them for shelter, for they had been warned by the kunsi not to harbour any English people, and they dared not take us in. Poor creatures, they were in terror for themselves, as they were not of the same tribe of Chinese as the Bau people. What should we do?

We were so large a party, and had so many children amongst us, that we did not venture to hide in the jungle: the night was quite dark and we might lose one another. Then the Bishop said, "We cannot make any resistance: we will hide away the guns we have in the house, and unite in prayer to God." So we all knelt round him while he commended us to the mercy of our Heavenly Father, and prayed for all our dear friends who were exposed to the fury of the Chinese. Then we sat and waited. Miss Woolley, who had only been three months in Sarawak, read aloud a psalm from time to time to comfort us; but the hours seemed very long. At five o'clock in the morning the kunsi, having possessed themselves of the Chinese town, sent us word that they did not mean to harm us—"the Bishop was a good man and cared for the Chinese," but he must go down to the hospital and attend to their wounded. Then came the welcome news that the Rajah had escaped, and Mr. Crookshank and Middleton—the three people whom the Chinese most desired to kill, for the one was chief constable and the other police magistrate, who carried out the Rajah's sentence on the kunsi. A price was set on their heads, but the Malays' love of their English Rajah made that only an idle threat. We were told that Mrs. Crookshank was dead, and the little Middletons, as well as Mr. Wellington, who lodged in their house, and Mr. Nicholetts, who was staying at the Rajah's house. Mrs. Crookshank, however, was not dead, but lying wounded in a ditch near the ashes of her house. When the Bishop knew this he demanded her of the kunsi. They said no, at first, for they were angry that her husband had escaped; but Bishop refused to attend to the wounded unless they gave her up, so at last they gave leave to have her carried to our house.

It was about ten o'clock when she was brought in—a pitiful sight, her dress covered with blood, her hair matted with grass and dust, her fingers bleeding. It did not seem possible she could live after remaining all night in this dreadful state. She told us that she and her husband did not awake until the house was full of men. They had only time to jump up and run down their bath-room stairs, he catching up a spear for their defence. Opening the bath-room door it creaked, and a man came running round the house shouting, "Assie Moy," the name of the woman-prisoner they had seized. He struck down Mrs. Crookshank with a sword he had in his hand, and Mr. Crookshank attacked him with the spear. They struggled together till the Chinaman cut his right arm to the bone, and the spear fell from his hand; then, seeing his wife lying dead, as he thought, in the grass, he managed to get away to the edge of the jungle, and sitting down, faint with loss of blood, saw his house burn to the ground. As morning dawned he found his way to the Datu Bandar's house, where the Rajah had already arrived, and Middleton. Meanwhile the Chinese, chasing the fowls from the burning fowl-house, came upon Mrs. Crookshank lying on her face, and one of them, seizing her by her hair, desired her to follow him. She could not walk a step, so he carried her in his arms; but when she groaned with the pain, he laid her in a ditch near the road. Many Chinese came and stood by her: they covered her with their jackets, one held an umbrella over her head, another offered her some tobacco, but they would not let any of our people touch her until an order came from the kunsi. We had sent our eldest school-boy to reassure her, and he stood beside her until our servants could bring her away safely. As soon as the Bishop had dressed the wounded in the town, he came home for some breakfast. When I saw him I called out, for his pith hat was covered with blood. "It is only fowl's blood," said he, "don't be frightened: they killed a chicken over my head as a sign of friend ship." The Middletons' servants came to us early in the morning, and said that they did not know what had become of their mistress, but the two little boys were killed by the Chinese, their heads cut off, and their bodies thrown into the burning. Later on, we heard that Mrs. Middleton, after seeing Mr. Wellington killed in trying to defend her, had escaped into the bath-room and hidden herself in one of the big water-jars; but, the door being open, she had seen her children murdered, and then had got out of the jar and run into the jungle, where she concealed herself in a little pool of water, much hidden by overhanging boughs. There this poor mother remained for some hours, until a Chinaman from the town came to the spring, carrying a drawn sword in his hand. "Oh, sir, pray don't kill me!" she called out. "Oh no!" answered the man, "I am a friend of Mr. Peter" (her husband), "and will take care of you." So he took her to his house, and dressed her in Chinese clothes. It was almost a wonder to me that this poor young woman lived through that dreadful time. As the day wore on, Mr. Ruppell, the banker of the place, and a great friend of the Chinese, came and took up his abode with us. Then he, the Bishop, and Mr. Helms, the manager of the English Merchant Company, were ordered to meet the kunsi at the court-house; also the Datu Bandar, the chief Malay magistrate. There a very trying scene took place. The kunsi sat in the seats of the magistrates, smoking, their principal in the Rajah's own chair. They stated that they did not wish to make war with the English, or the Malays, only with the Rajah's government, and they desired those present to assist them in the government of the country. This they had drawn up in writing, and desired the English and Datu Bandar to sign. The Bishop pointed out to them that the best thing they could do would be to return to Bau and defend their town; that the Dyaks would certainly come in fleets of boats directly they heard of what had happened at Kuching, and they would as certainly be killed if they remained in the place. This was true enough, but they were afraid of the Malays attacking them on the water. The Chinese are bad boatmen. They could not therefore make up their minds to go, and much fierce discussion arose. The thieves and rogues of the place, being under no restraint, robbed all the houses, on this afternoon, whose inmates had taken refuge at the mission-house. The Christian Chinese, being afraid of their countrymen, rushed into our house, carrying all sorts of goods and chattels, and caused me much distress on Mrs. Crookshank's account, who was very sensitive to fresh alarms. However, we settled our Chinese friends in some of the lower rooms. The Channons and their babies were in the attics. Night came at last, and a dead silence fell upon the town and the crowded mission-house. Not even the usual sounds in the bazaar or on the river were heard; only an occasional gun broke the stillness of the night. Friends and foes were alike weary. We did not venture to undress, but lay down all ready for flight if necessary, with our hats and little bundles beside us. The Bishop and Mr. Ruppell watched all night in the porch. Friday morning the Chinese, continually urged by the Bishop, determined to return to Bau. Later on they heard a rumour that the Malays would attack them on the river; then they made the Datu Bandar sign a promise not to follow them. Still they felt no confidence that he would not, so they said they would take Mr. Helms with them as a hostage for the Datu's good faith. Poor Mr. Helms did not like this idea at all, and having a fast boat lying in the creek near his house, he slipped away early in the afternoon, down the river, and hid himself in the jungle. No one in Sarawak could imagine what had become of him.

About midday the Bishop told me he wished me, Miss Woolley, and the children, including Alan Grant, to go to Singapore in a trading schooner which Mr. Ruppell had detained at the mouth of the river in case of emergency.

Mrs. Stahl and Miss Coomes were to remain and nurse Mrs. Crookshank, but it would be a great relief to him to think of us in safety. The Chinese kunsi also wished us to go, "that the people at Singapore might see that they did not desire our death." It seemed very hard to me to leave my husband in such danger, for that morning the kunsi had flourished swords in his face and threatened him, knowing very well that he wished to bring the Rajah back. Still I knew he could more easily provide for the safety of those left behind if we were already out of the way. So I packed up some clothes and provisions for the voyage. While I was doing this a Chinaman came from the Good Luck schooner to say I must only take one box for our party, as the schooner was very full of Chinese passengers, fleeing for fear of the kunsi. With this we had to be content. At three o'clock we went to the shop of Amoo, the Chinese owner of the Good Luck. There I found my husband writing to Mr. Johnson at Linga, to tell him what had happened. Then Datu Bandar came in to say that the kunsi had gone up the river, and had taken some of the fort guns with them; that they were very crowded in the boats, and that he should follow after them with a Malay force at night. They did nothing, however, when the time came; for until the Malays had got their families safe out of the place they were not willing to fight. They were brave enough when the women and children were moved to Samarahan on Saturday. There were many Chinese women collected at Amoo's, belonging to the shopkeepers in the bazaar. The wife of the court scribe, whom I knew, told me in a whisper that she managed to get some bread to the Rajah and his party, and had told Mr. Crookshank that his wife was alive and with us. At last the life-boat was ready. Stahl went with us to steer, and said there were plenty of Chinese to row the boat. When we got down to it, we found it not only fully manned by Chinese, but full of their women, children, and boxes, so that we could scarcely find room to squeeze ourselves into the stern, and we were so heavily laden that we made very slow progress. It was no use protesting, however: we were only English folk, and the Chinese had it all their own way in those days. About eight o'clock we got down to the mouth of the Morotabas, where the schooner lay. Pitch dark and very wet it was, but it was a relief when all the Chinese passengers climbed up the schooner ladder, and the men hauled the boxes up one after another, last of all a very heavy one which it took six men to lift, full of dollars,—so no wonder we were overladen. Last of all I climbed into the Good Luck, leaving the children still in the boat with Stahl and Kimchack, one of our school-boys whose family were moving away in the schooner. I found the deck covered with Chinese, and when I said to the little Portuguese captain, "Where is the little cabin Mr. Ruppell promised me I should have?" he answered, "Oh, ma'am, pray go back to your boat. I have neither water nor fuel for the people who are already on board. The cabin is filled with the family and friends of the Chinese owner of the schooner, and I cannot give you even room to sit down anywhere." It was indeed true. My friend, the court scribe's wife, said, "Come and sit by me on the deck." "But the children, they cannot be exposed day and night on deck." "Oh well, there is no other place for them." So I jumped into the life-boat again, and reclaimed my treasures. "Rather," said Miss Woolley and I, "die on shore than in that horrid boat." Indeed we felt quite cheerful now we had the boat to ourselves; and Kimchack said he had already been two nights on board the Good Luck and had had no room to lie down. There we were, however, in the middle of the river, with no one to row the boat. Stahl could not move it by himself. At this moment a small boat pulled alongside, and Mr. Helms' face appeared in the darkness. How glad we were to see him! and he, faint and exhausted with wandering all day in the jungle, was glad of a glass of wine, which was soon got out of the provision basket. Then we opened a tin of soup, and fed our tired and hungry children, who behaved all through those terrible days as if it was a picnic excursion got up for their amusement. They enjoyed everything, and were no trouble at all, either Alan or Mab. Edith was a baby, and suffered very much from want of proper food—but that was later on. Mr. Helms and his crew rowed our boat into Jernang Creek, where there were some Malay houses. In one of these he and Alan went to sleep, but he advised us to remain in the boat until the morning. We laid Mab and Edith on one of the seats; Miss Woolley lay on the other; and I sat at the bottom of the boat to prevent the children from falling off. The mosquitoes were numerous on that mud bank, and I was very glad when the morning dawned. At six o'clock Mr. Helms came to say we could have an empty Malay house on shore for a few days, so we gladly mounted up the landing-place and found a kind and hospitable reception from our Malay friends. They had put up some mat partitions in a large room, that we might sleep in private, and presented us with a nice curry for breakfast. We then unpacked our box and dried the clothes in it, which were wet through from the overlading of the life-boat. About midday two Englishmen arrived from the Quop River, nearer to Kuching, where they had been with the Rajah. They only stayed a short time, but told us that the Kunsi Chinese had really gone to Bau, and that the Bishop was with the Rajah at Quop. Late at night I had a note from my husband, saying he thought we might return to Sarawak, for all was quiet, and he hoped the Rajah would come back early on Sunday morning. The next morning, therefore, we prepared to set off again in the life-boat, but first I went to pay a visit to Inchi Bouyang the Malay writer, who lived in one of the houses near, and who was too stout to venture out of his own house into a less strongly built one. This seems absurd enough, but the Malay houses were certainly very slight; they seemed to sway in the mud of the creek, and the floors of the rooms were made of very open strips of nibong palm, so that you had to walk turning your feet well out in order not to slip through the lantiles. I found many Malays gathered in the writer's house, all to entreat me not to go to Kuching, because it was "not a lucky day." "If the Malays fight the Chinese to-day," they said, "they will be beaten." "What reason have you for saying so?" "No reason exactly, but the day is unlucky; it is like Friday to the English, they never go to sea on that day." "Oh," said I, "that was long ago: they often go to sea on Friday now they know better, and no sensible person thinks anything of lucky or unlucky days." "Well, we have told you what we think. If you must go, some of us will go with you, and we shall tell the Tuan Padre it was not our fault that you would not wait until to-morrow." So Lulut, a servant of the Rajah's, and another Malay got into the boat with us, and we set off up the river.

CHAPTER XII.
CHINESE INSURRECTION (Continued).

As we proceeded up the river we agreed we would ask news of any boat we met. Presently we noticed smoke rising above the trees. "The Malays are burning the Chinese town," said the men; but as we drew nearer it was evidently the Malay town which was burning. At last we met a boat. "Yes; the Chinese had returned, and had set fire to the Malay town; they were also firing at the Sarawak Chinese in the bazaar." On Saturday the Bishop and the Channons and Stahl had unspiked two of the guns left in the fort, and had hoisted the Sarawak flag again on the flag-staff. The Bishop then went to the Rajah's war boat at the Quop, and told him that the Malays had sent away their women, and were ready to fight should the Chinese return; and he begged him to come to our house early the next morning, where breakfast should be ready for him, and take the command. But the Chinese heard of this, and returned in the morning, some by river, some by road. As soon as the Malays saw their boats rounding the corner near the Malay town, they attacked them bravely, drove them ashore, and though suffering much loss from their superior fire, captured ten of their boats, and secured them to a Malay prahu in the river. While this struggle was going on, a large party of Chinese, who walked from Seniawan, were ransacking the town. Enraged with the Bishop for trying to bring the Rajah back, they rushed into our house to find him; but he, having sent off all our belongings, English and native, ran down the back stairs while the Chinese rushed up into the porch in front, and escaped to the Chinese town, where shots were flying about in plenty, but did not hit him. He got into a little boat passing by, with two Malays in it, and they paddled him to the Rajah's war boat, then retreating down the river. When they reached the Quop he found a little boat, which brought him quickly to Jernang.

We lay off the town in the life-boat, and saw one boat after another rowing fast towards us. In one, Mr. Koch, the missionary, with a number of school-boys; in another, Mrs. Crookshank, laid on a mattress, Mrs. Stahl, and Miss Coomes, and the school-girls; then the Channons' families and some Chinese; then the Sing-Song's family, and more boys. "Where is the Bishop?" I shouted. "In the Rajah's war boat. We had the greatest difficulty in getting boats enough for us; the Chinese were running up to the house when he sent us off, and firing had already begun in the streets when Mrs. Crookshank was got into the boat."

This was an anxious moment; but before long our servant James appeared with a message to me from my husband, to return to Jernang, and stay there until he appeared. Our Malay friends here left us, to join their families anchored in boats by the banks, and I filled the life-boat with the school-children to lighten the other boats. Then we pulled slowly back against the tide to Jernang. The little landing-place was crowded when we arrived, for the smaller boats had got there first. I had the greatest difficulty in persuading the Malays to give shelter to the Chinese Christians and children. I answered for their good behaviour; but all Chinese, whether rebels or no, were in sufficiently bad odour in those days. At last I got them part of a house to themselves. No sooner was all arranged than the Bishop arrived in his little boat; it was like receiving him from the dead.

Presently appeared the Rajah's war boat, he standing at the stern. We all ran down to meet him and Mr. Crookshank, and take them to Bertha, who had been carried into a house. While we were all standing on the little wharf, built on tall piles into the water, the Malays cried out that it was giving way, and we must all go into the houses. The Bishop then decided what to do with his large party. Mr. Helms had a schooner close by, in which he was going to Sambas, to seek assistance from the Dutch, our nearest neighbours. He kindly offered to take Miss Woolley, Miss Coomes, and two of our eldest school-boys with him. The rest of us could go to Linga, where there was a fort, as a little pinnace belonging to Mr. Steele lay handy at the mouth of the river. The Chinese, however, implored to go with us; and indeed it would have been cruel to leave them a prey to the Malays, or the bad Chinese, or the Dyaks. When we were lodged in the pinnace, therefore, the Bishop went back to Jernang, and packed all our Chinese into the life-boat, which was attached by a rope to the pinnace; so we were all together. It was nearly dark when we weighed anchor, and left the mouth of the river. There was a tiny cabin, just large enough to hold Bertha on her mattress; a fowl-house, into which our native children crept; an open hold, where we women sat down on our bundles, with our children in our arms; and there was a place for cargo forward, where the men settled themselves. The Rajah in his war boat also proceeded to Linga, and we expected him to arrive long before our slow boat; he would meet Mr. Johnson, his nephew, there, and organize a force of Dyaks from the great rivers, Sakarran and Batang Lupar, to drive away the Chinese rebels. We never had any doubt of their doing this eventually, though we feared the remedy might be almost as bad as the disease, if the Dyaks proved unmanageable and quarrelled with one another. The night was very dark and wet, and the deck leaked upon us, so that we and our bags and bundles were soon wet through. But we neither heeded the rain nor felt the cold. We had eaten nothing since early morning, but were not hungry; and although for several nights we could scarcely be said to have slept, we were not sleepy. A deep thankfulness took possession of my soul; all our dear ones were spared to us. My children were in my arms, my husband paced the deck over my head. I seemed to have no cares, and to be able to trust to God for the future, who had been so merciful to us hitherto. I remember, too, when Mrs. Stahl opened the provision basket, and gave us each a slice of bread and meat, how very good it was, although we had not thought about wanting it. We lit a little fire, and made some hot tea, but soon had a message from the Rajah's boat to put out the fire lest we should be seen. The only thing that troubled me was a nasty faint smell, for which I could not account; but next morning we found a Chinaman's head in a basket close by my corner, which was reason enough! We had taken a fine young man on board to help pull the sweeps, a Dyak, and this ghastly possession was his. He said he was at Kuching, looking about for a head, and went into the court-house. Hearing some one in a little side room, he peeped in, and saw a Chinaman gazing at himself in a bit of looking-glass, which was stuck against the wall. He drew his sword, and in one moment, stepping close behind him, cut off his head: and having obtained this prize, was naturally desirous of getting away from the place; so he came off as boatman in one of the flying boats, bringing the head in a basket, which he stowed in the side of the boat. It entirely spoilt my hand-bag, which lay near it; I had to throw it away, and everything in it which could not be washed in hot water.

Towards morning the sea made us all sick, added to the wet, and cold of dawn; yet, when the day cleared a little, and we got a fire on deck, and some hot tea and biscuits, and the children seemed none the worse for their bad night and the swarms of mosquitoes which had feasted upon them, we could not repine. In the evening we passed the island of Burong, at the mouth of the Batang Lupar River, and Mr. Crookshank tried to stimulate the men pulling the sweeps to reach a Sebuyan village farther on, before the tide left us and it grew dark. By dint of hard pulling we made the village, and its little fort, standing close beside the water and washed by its strong tide. A little boat came off from the fort, with some Malays, of whom we inquired for the Rajah, thinking his boat was far ahead of us, but they said they had seen nothing of him. Mr. Crookshank then begged them to bring a boat in which he could take Bertha up to Linga Fort that evening, instead of her remaining another night in the pinnace. We went on as long as the tide lasted, and then anchored in the Batang Lupar. Again we made a fire on deck, and after taking some food, settled ourselves for the night. At eleven o'clock the promised boat came for Bertha and Mr. Crookshank, and Mrs. Stahl went with them as nurse; they thought nothing could be worse than spending another night on board the pinnace, but I fear the little boat journey was still more painful. When they reached Linga, they found only Malays in the fort, and the dwelling-house shut up, for Mr. Johnson was at Sakarran. They had to carry Mrs. Crookshank up a ladder into the fort, and lay her on a table; but happily Mr. Chambers arrived that night from Banting, and furnished a curtain as a screen, and pillows from his boat to make a more comfortable couch. As we were setting off again next morning, we met Mr. Johnson in a long boat, going straight off to Kuching. He was lying ill of fever at Sakarran, when his Malays roused him by saying, without preface—"The news is bad, Tuan: the Rajah is killed and Kuching in the hands of the rebel Chinese." Upon this he jumped up, called together the chiefs, and bidding them follow him with a strong force of Dyaks, he set off himself without calling at Linga by the way. When we told him that Rajah was alive and on his way to Linga, he turned back with us, and taking me, my ayah, and the children into his boat, soon landed us at his house. This was Tuesday, but we heard nothing of the Rajah until Friday. Mr. Johnson, after breakfasting with us at his house, went on to Kuching, and found that, after we lost sight of the Rajah's war boat, they had fallen in with the steamer belonging to the Borneo Company, the Sir James Brooke, just entering the river. Mr. Helms' schooner also came across her, so all the passengers in the schooner and the war boat had moved into the steamer, and they immediately proceeded up the river, preparing the guns on board to attack as soon as they reached the town. What must have been the feelings of the Chinese in the fort when they saw the smoke of the steamer curling above the trees, and then received one ten-pounder shot after another into their midst! They fired one round of grape shot at the steamer, and shouts of "Run!" rose on all sides. The steamer then proceeded up to the Malay town, where the Malays still held out against the Chinese; but as they were getting very short of ammunition, and their enemies were bringing some large guns to bear on their position, they greeted the steamer with shouts of welcome. The Chinese fled in every direction. Cut off from their boats, they ran into the jungle; and while many no doubt reached Bau in safety, many fell into the hands of the Dyaks, who, following their usual course of warfare, spread themselves through the jungle, and took the head of every man they met. The town was quite clear of the rebels in a few hours, and the Sir James Brooke, anchored in the river, furnished the base of operations which the Rajah required: from thence he could direct the Malay and Dyak forces, which were immediately at his disposal, to drive the rebels out of the country. The day before, the Chinese had filled our house and looted it completely, except the books in the library, for which they seem to have had some respect; but we had reason to believe that on Monday the house would have been burnt, for gunpowder and inflammable materials were found strewed about after they left. They took everything they could carry away, and destroyed the rest, cutting long slits in the gauze of the mosquito-rooms, and pouring all the chemicals and medicines of the dispensary over the contents of the drawers, clothes, and papers they did not wish for. They found a long table set out ready for breakfast, and had only to gather up the small plate, which, with a house full of people, was all in requisition. The church, too, was emptied of all its furniture, and the harmonium smashed; but the opportune arrival of the steamer prevented these buildings from sharing the fate of the other houses.

Meanwhile, we were settling ourselves with our large party in Mr. Johnson's house, which he kindly placed at our disposal. This house was surrounded by a latticed verandah, the ground immediately about it was cleared of jungle and drained by deep ditches. From the fort you looked over the wide stretch of water of the Batang Lupar, but it was a lonely and monotonous look-out. As the fort men were taken away to fight at Kuching, the gentlemen had to form themselves into watches day and night, with the few Malays who remained to guard the fort. Boats full of Dyaks continually arrived, to join the Rajah's force—Balows, Sarebas, and Sakarrans lay side by side on the river, all excited by the prospects of war, and frequently causing silly panics among the Malays of Linga, lest these warriors, from tribes so long enemies, should fall out with one another before they got to Kuching. There were, of course, no books or newspapers to read; our Bibles and Prayer-books alone were among our luggage. We women were the best off, for we got some unbleached calico from Sakarran, and cut out some under-clothing, of which we had but little; this gave us occupation. We also had every day to wash our linen and towels after bathing. The bath was a clear running stream, covered in near the house, very pretty and romantic, but the water was of a light brown colour, like toast and water, and had a slightly acid taste, very agreeable but not very wholesome. Probably the spring forced its way through dead leaves in the jungle; at any rate, it did not wash the clothes white. It was very difficult to procure food for us all. Rice and gourds made into a kind of curry stew was our daily meal; if a chicken was got it was devoted to the children and the sick. We were very anxious for some time on account of Mrs. Crookshank. Had she remained quiet at Kuching, her wounds would have healed quickly, for she was young and perfectly healthy; but all the moving into boats, and carrying up ladders and steps, had broken open the wounds, and it was a struggle of strength and youth against adverse circumstances. She was so patient and cheerful that we never heard a complaint, which was in her favour no doubt; still there were some days when her life was in great danger in that hot climate. Twice during the month we received a box from Kuching, sent by a native boat. Once it contained our mail—an immense pleasure; also some bread and biscuits, but they were wet with salt water, and mouldy besides. However, Mab and Alan could eat them. I used to look with thankful astonishment at those children, both so delicate generally, but who throve all the time we were without proper food or shelter. But baby Edith shrank and pined, and at last my husband said, "We shall lose this child if you stay here any longer: better go and live among the Dyaks, who have plenty of fowls."

So Mr. Chambers kindly took us in at his house at Banting, where we had a most loving welcome, and saw something of the Dyak women and children. The men were mostly gone to the war, and great excitement prevailed among the tribe with the prospect of acquiring heads again, for the Sarawak Government had quite stopped that hunting in the country. Boats were continually arriving, gay with streamers, and noisy with gongs and drums beating, with heads of Chinese on board. One day we were invited to a feast in one of the long houses. I said, "I hope we shall see no heads," and was told I need not see any; so, taking Mab in my hand, I went with Mr. Chambers, and we climbed up into the long verandah room where all the work of the tribe goes on. This long house was surrounded with fruit-trees, and very comfortable. There were plenty of pigs under the house, and fowls perching in every direction. About thirty families lived in the house, the married people having each their little room, the girls a room to themselves, and the long room I spoke of being used for cooking, mat-making, paddy-beating, and all the usual occupations of their lives. We were seated on white mats, and welcomed by the chief people present. The feast was laid on a raised platform along the side of the room. There were a good many ornaments of the betel-nut palm, plaited into ingenious shapes, standing about the table, so that I did not at first remark anything else. As we English folks could not eat fowls roasted in their feathers, nor cakes fried in cocoa-nut oil, they brought us fine joints of bamboo filled with pulut rice, which turns to a jelly in cooking and is fragrant with the scent of the young cane. I was just going to eat this delicacy when my eyes fell upon three human heads standing on a large dish, freshly killed and slightly smoked, with food and sirih leaves in their mouths. Had I known them when alive I must have recognized them, for they looked quite natural. I looked with alarm at Mab, lest she should see them too; then we made our retreat as soon as possible. But I dared say nothing. These Dyaks had killed our enemies, and were only following their own customs by rejoicing over their dead victims. But the fact seemed to part them from us by centuries of feeling—our disgust, and their complacency. Some of them told us that afterwards, when they brought home some of the children belonging to the slain, and treated them very kindly, wishing to adopt them as their own, they were annoyed at the little ones standing looking up at their parents' heads hanging from the roof, and crying all day, as if it were strange they should do so! Yet the Dyaks are very fond of children, and extremely indulgent to them. Our school was recruited after the war by the children of Chinese, bought by Government from their captors. This was my first and last visit to a Dyak feast. I used to go and see the women in the early morning sometimes, and they constantly came up to the mission-house to see my children. Of course the war had an evil influence on them, increasing their interest in heads, and all the heathen ceremonies connected with their possession.

We stayed about ten days at Banting, walking every afternoon to the little church through a long avenue of fruit-trees—great forest trees which threw a grateful shade over the path, charming for the children's walks. They could have chicken broth too for their dinners; and Edith revived, but it was a whole year after this before she grew any taller, so that when she began to run about, three months later, it looked a surprising feat for a baby who should be in long clothes, yet she was then sixteen months old. This life at Banting was a kind of dream, after all the hurry and anxiety we had gone through. At last we heard that we might go back to Kuching, the Chinese had all been driven out of the country, or killed. Our house was purified, and the dead bodies lying about in the jungle had been buried, so that the air was sweet again. We returned to Linga, and all embarked in a little schooner for home. It was not a much better boat than the one we had fled in, and we suffered two very trying days' voyage; but when we walked into the mission-house and found Miss Woolley to welcome us, and our house, though dismantled, uninjured, and most of the books in the library, we were very thankful. The Sunday after, we had a thanksgiving service in the church, in which all joined very heartily.

I must return, however, to the history of the war, from the time the Rajah steamed up the river in the Sir James Brooke.

At Bau there were supposed to be from three to four thousand Chinese rebels, who had lately been strengthened by many malcontents from the Dutch country. The Chinese held Bau, Seniawan, the government fort of Baleda, and a fort at Peninjauh opposite to Baleda. They boasted that they had rice and gunpowder enough to last out six months in these places; but they were gradually surrounded on all sides by Malays and Dyaks, so that they could get no fresh stores. On the 10th of March a body of Chinese came down the river to Leda Tanah (Tongue of Land) about halfway to Kuching. They built a breast-work by the river-side, dug a trench behind it, placed some brass guns in position, and then retired to eat their dinners in comfort behind their defences. There was a little house and garden belonging to the Rajah at Leda Tanah. The Datu Tumangong and Abang Boujong hearing of this, went up the river with a Malay force and attacked the breast-work in front. The Chinese fired one volley and ran. The Malays entered, sword in hand, but only killed two men; all the rest fled into the arms of the Dyaks, who lay in wait in the jungle behind, and took a hundred heads, some say two hundred, but stories do not lose in the telling. The Chinese begged hard for their lives, wrung their hands, wept, prayed the Dyaks to be friends with them; but Dyaks know nothing about prisoners. One of the principal kunsi was killed in this affair, and some say that Kamang, the leader of the attack on the 18th of February, lost his head to the Sakarran Dyaks.

This success was matter of great rejoicing at Kuching. Two days afterwards they heard that Baleda Fort was deserted by the Chinese. Mr. Johnson went up and found it quite empty; Seniawan too, and soon after Bau also. All had fled towards the Dutch territory. A dreadful march they had, poor creatures; carrying their sacred stone Tai pekong with them. Nearly a thousand women and children delayed their progress. They were harassed all the way by parties of Malays, and Dyaks cutting off the stragglers. The party dwindled by degrees, until nearly all the kunsi were killed, either by the enemy or their incensed countrymen, who found themselves driven from their peaceful homes for the sins of these rebels. It is so painful to think of the many innocent who suffered with the guilty on this occasion, of the miseries they endured, and the relentlessness of their foes, that I cannot detail it. War naturally brines such evils in its train; even civilized warfare is not without its horrors and its injustice: but when revenge falls into the hands of savages these ills are multiplied. The Malays both hated and despised the Chinese. That such people should have taken their forts, burnt their dwellings, compelling them to seek safety for their families by flight, was so great an insult that their most violent passions were aroused, and only the blood of all the Kay tribe could wipe out the disgrace they had incurred. It was indeed wonderful that these Chinese should imagine for a moment that they could remain rulers in a country whose inhabitants regarded them as the natural hewers of wood and drawers of water to the community; but no doubt they were intoxicated by their unlooked-for success on the 18th of February, and a Chinaman seems destitute of any appreciation of people who are not Celestials! A remnant of these people got safely into the Dutch territory, where the authorities took what arms and ammunition they had, and, very properly, returned them to the Sarawak Government. They also offered to send a war steamer and soldiers if desired. So our misfortunes called out the goodwill of our neighbours. Soon after we returned home, H.M.S. Spartan, Captain Hoste, arrived to protect British interests in Sarawak. They stayed with us for a while, but the troubles were over, and the only difficulty was how to make any visitors comfortable or to feed them. We had to pass round a knife and fork at table for some days, and there were only a few spoons left to us. On the beds there were hard mattresses, but no pillows, sheets, or in fact any bed-furniture. Our guests being travellers and full of resources, slept on their pith hats for pillows, and used their pocket-knives. A good deal of fun was made of our privations, and indeed, as no beloved friend was missing, we could afford to laugh.

We had all great reason to be thankful for the good behaviour of the Dyaks during the war. There were no intertribal quarrels, and Mr. Chambers told me that his Christians among the Balows were in the first boats which went off to succour the Rajah, when they knew nothing of the arrival of the steamer, and believed themselves to be facing a great danger, and fire-arms, which they do not like. This was not the only time that the Christians were among the bravest when all behaved well—a fact which recommended their religion to their countrymen, with whom courage is the first virtue. It was some years after this, however, that Dyak Christians learnt to fight without taking the heads of their enemies.

When we left our house, our servants generally, except James a Portuguese, and my Bengalee Ayah, fled from the place. But we had an old Hindoo Syce, who was much attached to us and to the creatures under his charge. He drove the two ponies we rode into the jungle, where they looked after themselves, and, living in his cottage next to the stable, did what he could for the cow and calves. When the rebels filled our house and appropriated our effects, they broke open the plate-chest, and melted the silver they found. Then Syce came forward and claimed a portion of the spoil They gave him a lump of silver with some alloy in it, the produce of some plated salvers, as his share. He pretended to help them, but this lump he hid in the earth near his cottage, and, on our return, triumphantly produced it as what he had saved for us from the wreck. Some years after, this old man was very ill with an abscess in his thigh, which he was sure would kill him. Bishop doctored and nursed him through it, but he had given him a good-sized bag of dollars, his savings, saying he wished Bishop to be his heir. When he got well and the money was returned to him, he spent it in paying a visit to his relations at Trichinopoli. I believe this faithful creature worshipped the bull of our herd, and it was a great trouble to him that the Chinese cruelly cut off the tail of the poor animal, thereby depriving him of the means of whisking off the flies which sting so vehemently in that climate.

decorative panel