Menua Kitai Negara Sarawak.

SKETCHES OF OUR LIFE AT SARAWAK

BY
HARRIETTE McDOUGALL.

WITH MAP.
PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE TRACT COMMITTEE.
LONDON:
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN
KNOWLEDGE.

PART I.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY 7
II. THE COURT-HOUSE 13
III. COLLEGE HILL 21
IV. PIRATES 32
V. THE CHURCH AND THE
SCHOOL 45
VI. THE GIRLS 58
VII. THE LUNDUS 68
VIII. A BOAT JOURNEY 82
IX. CONTINUATION OF THE
TRIP TO REJANG 92
PART II.
X. RETURN TO SARAWAK 105
XI. CHINESE
INSURRECTION 120
XII. CHINESE
INSURRECTION
(Continued ) 139
XIII. EVENTS OF 1857 157
XIV. THE MALAY PLOT 174
PART III.
XV. THE CHILDREN'S
CHAPTER 189
XVI. ILLANUN PIRATES 204
XVII. A MALAY WEDDING 215
XVIII. LAST YEARS AT
SARAWAK 228
XIX. THE ISLAND OF
BORNEO 239
PART I.
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London: Published by The Society for Promotion of Christian Knowledge.

SKETCHES OF OUR LIFE AT SARAWAK.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

Nearly thirty years ago I published a
little book of "Letters from Sarawak,
addressed to a Child." This book is now
out of print, and, on looking it over with
a view to republication, I think it will be
better to extend the story over the
twenty years that Sarawak was our
home, which will give some idea of the
gradual progress of the mission.
This progress was often unavoidably
impeded by the struggles of the infant
State; for war drowns the voice of the
missionary, and though the Sarawak
Government always discouraged the
Dyak practice of taking the heads of
their enemies, still it could not at once be
checked, and every expedition against
lawless tribes, however righteous in its
object, excited the old superstitions of
those wild people. When their warriors
returned from an expedition, the women
of the tribe met them with dance and
song, receiving the heads they brought
with ancient ceremonies—"fondling the
heads," as it was called; and for months
afterwards keeping up, by frequent
feasts, in which these heads were the
chief attraction, the heathen customs
which it was the object of the missionary
to discourage.
I dare say, when we first settled at
Sarawak, we thought that twenty years
would plant Christian communities, and
build Christian churches all over the
country: but it is as well that we cannot
overlook the future; and perhaps,
considering the many difficulties which
arose from time to time, from the
missionaries themselves, and the
unsettled country in which they
laboured, we ought not to expect more
results than have appeared. At any rate
we have much to be thankful for, and as
every year makes Sarawak a more
important State, consolidates its
Government, and extends civilization to
its subjects, we may look for more
success for the missionaries, who can
now point to the peace and prosperity of
the people, and say, "This is the fruit of
Christianity and Christian rulers."
In giving a short account of our life in
Borneo, I shall avoid alike all political
questions, or, as much as possible,
individual histories among the English
community. It is already so long ago
since we lived in that lovely place, that
events, trials, joys, and the usual
vicissitudes of life, are wrapt in that
mellowing haze of the past, which, while
it dims the vividness of feeling, throws a
robe of charity over all, and perhaps
causes actors and actions to assume a
more true proportion to one another
than when we walked amongst them. I
have, however, not depended on memory
alone for the records of twenty years,
but have journals and letters to refer to,
which my friends in England have been
good enough to keep for me. Some parts
of "Letters from Sarawak" I shall
incorporate into the present little book,
for as it treats of the first six years we
lived there, and was written at that time,
it is sure to be tolerably correct.
In those days, from 1847 to 1853, Sir
James Brooke was very popular in
England. The story of his first occupation
of Sarawak, published in his journals,
and the cruizes of her Majesty's ships in
those eastern seas—the Dido and the
Samarang —were read with avidity, and
furnished the English public with a
romance which had all the charm of
novelty. However difficult and
inconvenient it might be for the English
Government to recognize a native State
under an English rajah, who was at the
same time a subject of the Queen of
Great Britain, this question had not then
arisen; and all classes, high and low,
could applaud a brave and noble man,
who had stepped out of the beaten track
to spend his fortune and expose his life
in the cause of savages. There were
many fluctuations of sympathy and
opinion in after years towards Sir James
Brooke; but, through evil report and
good report, through difficulty and
danger, Sarawak has still advanced, and
is as worthy of the interest of the best
and wisest of mankind as it was in 1847.
At this time, indeed, it seems to me to
furnish a lesson in the management of
native races which might be useful in
our own colonies. English governors
always set out with good intentions
towards the natives of savage countries,
but how is it that war almost always
follows their occupation? Surely it is
because the settlers go there, not in the
interest of the native race, but their
own, and the two interests are sure to
clash in the long-run.
It requires great patience and
forbearance to educate natives up to a
rule of justice and righteous laws; but
that it may be done, and carry the co-
operation of the people themselves, is
evident at Sarawak, where the Malays
and Dyaks are associated in the
Government, and have always stood by
their English rajah, even when it was
necessary to punish or exile some of
their own chiefs. I am aware that an
English colony cannot be governed in
this way; nevertheless, the spectacle of
wild natives, rising by the influence of a
few good Englishmen from lawless
misrule to a settled government, where
vice is punished without partiality, is
very beautiful to philanthropists, and
makes one think better of human nature
and its capabilities. I wish I could
portray the hilly and thorny road by
which this has been attained! It would,
methinks, create a new interest in
Sarawak, if the past and the present
could be fairly set before the discerning
world; we should again hear of
missionaries longing to help in the
improvement of people who have shown
themselves so open to good influences. I
have said that I would not touch upon
politics, but Church and State are so
naturally bound together in the task of
civilization, that it is difficult to relate
the history of the mission without
mentioning the Government. Of course
they do not stand in the same relation to
one another in a Mahometan country,
where the English Church is but a
tolerated sect, as they do in a Christian
land; still the Christian Church
strengthens the Christian ruler, and he
in his turn protects the Church by good
government, although he may not favour
it except by individual preference. For
my own part, I have always thought it an
advantage to our Dyak Christians that no
favour was shown them on account of
their faith; at any rate, it was for no
worldly interest that they became
Christians.
Although our life in Sarawak extended
over a period of twenty years, it might
naturally be divided into three parts—of
six, five, and six years respectively, the
intervals being spent in visits to
England. These visits, although
absolutely necessary, were a drawback
to the mission work. When the head of a
family is absent, the responsibility is apt
to fall upon the younger members, and
is sometimes too much for them.
However, they always did their best, and
always welcomed us home most warmly.
It was a joyful sight, on our return, to
find the missionaries and school-
children waiting for us at the wharf
below our houses, the children's dear
little faces glad with smiles, and a warm
welcome for any baby we brought home.
The second time, it was our daughter
Mab; and in 1862, our last baby,
Mildred,—Mab, Edith, and Herbert being
left in England, for no English child can
thrive in that unchangeable climate after
it is six years old.
The first chapters of this little book will
describe the first six years of our stay at
Sarawak; but, in speaking of subjects of
interest, I shall not stop short at the end
of those years, but carry on the subject to
the end of our Sarawak experience. It is
perhaps necessary to say this to prevent
confusion.
CHAPTER II.
THE COURT-HOUSE.
While Sir James Brooke was in England,
in 1847, he asked his friends to help him
in his efforts to civilize the Dyaks, by
sending a mission to live at Sarawak.
Lord Ellesmere, Admiral Sir H. Keppel,
Admiral C. D. Bethune, Canon Ryle
Wood, and the Rev. C. Brereton, formed
themselves into a committee, with the
Rev. I. F. Stocks for their honorary
secretary, and soon collected funds for
the purpose. The Rev. F. McDougall was
chosen as the head of the mission, and
with him were associated the Rev. S.
Montgomery and the Rev. W. Wright;
but Mr. Montgomery died very suddenly,
of fever caught when ministering to the
poor of his parish, before the time came
for us to embark, so the party was
reduced to two clergymen and their
wives, two babies and two nurses. We
sailed from London in the barque Mary
Louisa, four hundred tons, the end of
December; Mr. Parr, a nephew of Mrs.
Wright's, being also one of the
passengers. I had all my life loved the
sea, and longed to take such a voyage as
should carry us out of sight of land, and
give us all the experiences which wait on
those "who go down to the sea in ships;"
but I little thought how we should all
long for land before we saw it again.
The barque was a poor sailer; we thought
it a good run if she made eight knots an
hour, so no wonder we did not reach
Singapore till May 23, 1848. It was a
long monotonous voyage, but we were
well occupied, and I do not remember
ever finding it dull. The sea was all I
ever fancied by way of a companion,
and, like all one's best friends, made me
happy or unhappy, but was never stupid.
Then we had to learn Malay and its
Arabic characters, with the help of
Marsden's grammar and dictionary, and
the Bible translated into that language by
the Dutch. We lived by rule,
apportioning the hours to certain duties,
and every one knows how fast time
passes under those conditions. The two
clergymen busied themselves with
teaching the sailors, and several of them
presented themselves at Holy
Communion in consequence, the last
Sunday before we landed. The most
trying time we passed was on the coast
of Java, becalmed under a broiling sun,
the very sea dead and slimy with all
sorts of creatures creeping over it. As for
ourselves, we were gasping with thirst,
for we had already been on short rations
of water for six weeks, one of the tanks
having leaked out. One quart of water a
day for each adult, and none for the
babies, so of course they had the lion's
share of their parents' allowance. Our
one cup of tea in the evening was looked
forward to for hours; and what a
wonderful colour it was, after all!—but
that was the iron of the tank.
On the 23rd of May we landed at
Singapore, and had to wait there for four
weeks before the schooner Julia , then
running between that place and
Sarawak, came to fetch us. We reached
Sarawak June 29th, entering the
Morotabas mouth of the river, which is
twenty-four miles from the town of
Kuching, whither we were bound. The
sail up the river, our first sight of the
country and the people, was indeed
exciting, and filled us with delight. The
river winds continually, and every new
reach had its interest: a village of palm-
leaf houses built close to the water,
women and children standing on the
steps with their long bamboo jars, or
peeping out of the slits of windows at the
schooner; boats of all sizes near the
houses, fishing-nets hanging up to dry,
wicked alligators lying basking on the
mud; trees of many varieties—the
nibong palm which furnishes the posts
of the houses, the nipa which makes
their mat walls, and close by the water
the light and graceful mangroves, which
at night are all alive and glittering with
fire-flies. On the boughs of some larger
trees hanging over the stream parties of
monkeys might be seen eating the fruits,
chattering, jumping, flying almost, from
bough to bough. We afterwards made
nearer acquaintance with these droll
creatures.
At last we reached the Fort, a long white
building manned by Malays, and with
cannon showing at the port-holes. The
Julia was not challenged, however, but
gladly welcomed, as she carried not only
the missionaries but the mail, and stores
for the bazaar; for at that time there
were not many native trading-vessels—
the fear of pirates was great, and there
was good reason to fear!
The town of Kuching consisted in those
days of a Chinese bazaar and a Kling
bazaar, both very small, and where it
was scarcely possible to find anything an
English man or woman could buy.
Beyond was the court of justice, the
mosques, and a few native houses.
Higher up the river lay the Malay town,
divided into Kampongs, or clusters of
houses belonging to the different chiefs
or principal merchants of the place.
Opposite the bazaar, on the other side of
the river, stood the rajah's bungalow, as
well as two or three others belonging to
Europeans, embosomed in trees, cocoa-
nuts and betel-nut palms, and other
fruit-trees. Behind the rajah's house rose
the beautiful mountain of Santubong,
wooded to its summit nearly 3000 feet,
with a rock cropping out here and there.
At this bungalow we landed, and were
hospitably entertained for a few days
until the upper part of the court-house
could be made ready for our party.
Shall I ever forget my first impressions
of the rajah's bungalow? A peculiar scent
pervaded it. You looked about for the
cause till your eyes fell on two saucers,
one filled with green blossoms, the other
with deep golden ones, much the same
shape—the kenanga and the chimpaka,
flowering trees, which grew near the
house. Their flowers were picked every
day for the rooms, as the rajah loved the
scent, and so did the Malays. The ladies
steeped the blossoms in cocoa-nut oil
and anointed themselves, placing them
also in their long black hair, with
wreaths of jessamine flowers threaded
on a string. These perfumes were rather
overpowering at first, but I learnt to like
them after I had been some time in
Sarawak. The large, bare, cool rooms
were very refreshing after the little
cabins of the Julia . And then the library!
a treasure indeed in the jungle; books on
all sorts of subjects, bound in enticing
covers, always inviting you to bodily
repose and mental activity or
amusement, as you might prefer. This
library, so dear to us all because we
were all allowed to share it, was burnt in
1857 by the Chinese rebels. It took two
days to burn. I watched it from our
library over the water, and saw the mass
of books glowing dull red like a furnace,
long after the flames had consumed the
wooden house. It made one's heart ache
to see it. An old gentleman of our English
society watched it too, and I wondered
why his head shook continually as he sat
with his eyes fixed on those sad ruins;
but I found afterwards that the sight,
and doubtless its cause, had palsied him
from that day. But I must not linger too
long in the rajah's bungalow, though the
white pigeons seem to call to me from
the verandahs; we must take boat again
(for there are no bridges over the
Sarawak river), and cross to the court-
house.
This square wooden house, with latticed
verandahs like a big cage, was built by a
German missionary, who purposed
having a school on the ground floor and
living in the upper story; but as soon as
he had built his house he was recalled to
Germany, and the only trace of him that
remained was a box full of torn Bibles
and tracts, which, I am sorry to say, had
been used as waste paper in the bazaar
for tying up parcels since he left, but as
the tracts were not in any language the
people could understand they were
scarcely to blame. Rajah turned the
house into a court of justice, and we
settled ourselves in the upper rooms,
which were divided from one another by
mat walls. The river flowed under this
house at spring tides, and then nests of
ants would swarm into it: the rapidity
with which these little creatures would
carry all their eggs up the posts and
settle the whole family under a box in
your bedroom was marvellous; but as
they were not pleasant companions
there, a kettle of hot water had to put an
end to the colony.
These little black ants did not sting, but
there was a large red ant, half an inch
long, who was most pugnacious; he stood
up on his hind legs and fought you with
amazing courage, and his jaws were
formidable. We made our first
acquaintance with white ants while we
lived in the court-house. On unpacking a
box of books, which had been our solace
during the voyage, we found them
almost glued together by the secretion of
these creatures. The box had been
standing on the ground floor of the
hotel. The white ants had eaten through
and through the books, and picked all
the surface off the bindings; they were
disgusting to look at and to smell. Some
years afterwards, one of our
missionaries had a box of clothes sent
her from Singapore. It was necessary
clothing, for she had lost her effects, like
the rest of us, during the Chinese
rebellion. I warned Miss Coomes that she
must unpack the box directly, on account
of the white ants; but she put it off till
the next day, and at night these wretches
ate through the bottom of the box, and
munched up the new linen and
stockings. We soon learnt to guard
against their attacks by using no wood
except balean, or iron-wood, which is
too hard for them to bite. English oak
seemed like a slice of cake to white ants.
No sooner were we settled at the court-
house, than we had visits from all the
principal Malays, and also some Dyaks
who happened to be at Sarawak. My
husband opened a dispensary in a little
room behind the store-room, and had
plenty of patients. I used to hear
continual talking and laughing going on
there, and by this means Mr. McDougall
learnt to talk the Malay language, which
he only knew from books when he first
arrived. The pure Malay of books is very
different from the colloquial patois of
Kuching. To my sorrow, I learnt this
some time after, when I was trying to
prepare two women for baptism: they
listened to me for some time, and then
one said to the other, "She talks like a
book," which I fear meant that they only
half understood me.
Soon after this we took four little half-
caste children to bring up. They were
running about in the bazaar, and their
native mothers were willing to part with
them; so Mary, Julia, Peter, and Tommy
were housed in a cottage close by, under
the care of a Portuguese Christian
woman, the wife of our cook. Every day I
used to spend some hours with them,
that we might become friends. The eldest
of these children was only six years old,
Tommy, the youngest, but two and a
half; so they wanted a nurse. They were
baptized on Advent Sunday, 1848, and
were the beginning of our native school.
CHAPTER III.
COLLEGE HILL.
We stayed at the court-house a whole
year, while our house on the hill was
being prepared. The hill, and the ground
beyond it, about forty acres in all, was
given to the mission by Sir James
Brooke. It was then some way out of the
town, but as the Chinese population
increased, the town grew quite to the
foot of the hill—College Hill, as it was
then called—and a blacksmith's quarter
even invaded the mission land. At first,
in order to cultivate the property,
nutmegs and spice-trees were planted,
but the soil was not good enough for
them; when their roots pierced through
the pit of earth in which they were
planted, and reached the stiff clay of the
hill, they died off. It was necessary to do
something to keep the land clear of the
coarse lalang grass, which grew
wherever the jungle was cut down. So
after a while a herd of cattle was
collected, and they improved the poverty
of the land, at the same time furnishing
milk and a little butter. I say a little ,
because even when seven cows were in
milk, as they only gave two quarts a day
each, and there were always plenty of
children in and out of the mission to
consume it, but little was left for butter-
making. Cocoa-nut trees were planted in
the low ground, and some few grew up;
but wild pigs were great enemies to
them, for they liked to eat the cabbage
out of the heart of the young tree, which
of course killed it. In that seething
warmth of Sarawak you could almost see
plants grow. If you scattered seeds in the
ground, they sprouted above it on the
third day. I planted some of those little
coral-looking seeds which are to be
found in every box of Indian shells, the
seed of the satin-wood, and they grew up
into beautiful forest trees in twelve
years' time. We used to make long
strings of these coral seeds, and use them
in Christmas decorations.
By degrees we had a very bright garden
about the house. The Gardenia, with its
strongly scented blossom and evergreen
leaves, made a capital hedge. Great
bushes of the Hybiscus, scarlet and buff,
glowed in the sun—they were called
shoe-flowers, for they were used instead
of blacking to polish our shoes. The pink
one-hundred-leaved rose grew freely,
and blossomed all the year round.
Shrubs of the golden Allamander were a
great temptation to the cows, if they
strayed into the garden. The Plumbago
was one of the few pale-blue flowers
which liked that blazing heat. Then we
had a great variety of creepers—
jessamine of many sorts, the scarlet
Ipomea, the blue Clitorea, and passion-
flowers, from the huge Grenadilla with
its excellent fruit, to the little white one
set in a calyx of moss. The Moon-flower,
a large white convolvulus, tight-shut all
day, unfolded itself at six o'clock, and
looked lovely in the flower-vases in the
evening. The Jessamine and Pergolaria
odorotissima climbed up the porch, and
in the forks of the trees opposite I had
air-plants fastened, which flowered
every three months, and looked like a
flight of white butterflies on the wing.
The great mountain of Matang stood in
the distance, and when the sun sank
behind it, which it always did in that
invariable latitude about six o'clock, I
sat in the porch to watch the glory of
earth and sky. How dear a mountain
becomes to you, is only known to those
who live in hilly countries. One gets to
think of it as a friend. It seems to carry
a protest against the little frets of life,
and, by its strength and invariableness,
to be a visible image of Him who is "the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
But I am running on too fast with the
garden before the house is built.
The hill was first cleared of jungle, and
flattened at the top, then the foundation
was dug, and great sleepers were laid
ready for the upright posts. A wooden
house is joiner's work, and rather
resembles a great bedstead. All the wood
is first squared and cut, which takes a
long time, because the balean-wood is
extremely hard, and consumes a great
deal of labour; but once ready, the house
rises from the earth like magic, for every
beam and post fits into its place.
We had brought a great box of
carpenter's tools with us from England,
among them valuable moulding-planes;
we wished the carpenters to learn, in
building the house, how to make the
arches and ornamental mouldings for
the church.
Happily for us, when the Mary Louisa
was wrecked in the straits on her way
home, the crew were all saved, and the
ship-carpenter came over to Sarawak to
see if my husband would employ him. As
he was a capital joiner, he was set over a
gang of workmen at once. All the plans
for the house and church were made by
Frank (my husband), and I was set to
draw patterns of the doors and windows,
the verandah railings, and the porch.
Stahl was an intelligent German
workman, and soon learnt Malay enough
to direct the men. The Malays levelled
the hill and dug the foundations; the
Chinese were employed as carpenters,
but they, too, could speak Malay. I
remember making great friends with one
of them, Johnny Jangot, John of the
Beard, so called on account of a few long
hairs at the tip of his chin, for the
Chinese are a beardless race. Johnny
used to eat his breakfast in the court-
house to save himself trouble. What a
set-out it was! Rice, of course; then three
or four little basins with different messes
—duck, fish, chicken, and plenty of soy-
sauce; more basins with vegetables, all
eaten with the help of chop-sticks; and a
teapot snugly covered with a cosy. I
asked one day to taste the tea, and
Johnny poured me out a tiny cup of hot,
sweet, spirits and water! Samchoo is a
spirit made from rice, and very strong,
as our poor English sailors used to find
to their cost when her Majesty's ships
paid us a visit. The Chinese said that the
English drank the samchoo cold and raw,
and therefore it poisoned them, whereas
they always qualified it with hot water.
It did not taste strong, which made it all
the more pernicious. Johnny drank real
tea all day long, and smoked a good deal
of tobacco—it seemed to me he did very
little else; but he was not a bad
workman, though of course it was not
such a day's work as an Englishman can
do.
In the East you must accept the customs
of the country, and be content with the
people: they are not given to change.
Stahl made some wheel-barrows for the
men to use instead of little baskets in
which they carried earth, and which
held nothing. But it was no use; they
laughed at the wheel-barrows, and said
"Eh yaw!" but went on with the baskets.
Every evening we used to walk up the
hill to see how the building was getting
on, all the children with us; then, as we
sat on the timber, I used to draw the
letters of the alphabet on the white sand,
and the little ones learnt them. We went
home through a piece of ground we
called our garden. In it grew plenty of
pine-apples and sugar-cane, and the
gardener always supplied us with pieces
of the latter to eat—very refreshing and
nice, but the juice ran all over your
hands. As for pine-apples, we soon got
tired of them; but they made good tarts,
and, mixed with plantains and lime-
juice, a very pleasant and useful jam.
In clearing the hill our workmen
disturbed the haunts of many snakes.
We were a good deal visited by cobras
for some years. The natives said that the
Adam and Eve of all the cobras lived in a
cave under our hill.
One day we were having asphalte laid
down in the printing-room, to keep
away white ants. The room had been
emptied to do this, and Stahl went in to
inspect the work after the men had gone
to their breakfast at eleven o'clock. He
saw a large cobra at the end of the room,
and hit it with a stick he had in his hand;
but the stick broke in two, and the cobra
reared itself up with inflated hood.
Another minute must have seen Stahl a
prey to the monster; but the Bishop,
passing by, heard him exclaim when the
stick broke, and going quickly in saw
Stahl standing, white, fascinated, and
motionless, before the cobra. Happily he
had a stout walking-stick, and at once
felled the reptile; but he took a good deal
of killing. It was ten feet long.
This was Adam.
Eve was killed under the verandah of the
house almost a year afterwards. She was
eight feet long.
One night the Bishop had been reading
the Rev. F. Robertson's sermon about St.
Paul and the viper. It was late, and
being rather sleepy he carried the book
in one hand and a candle in the other
into his dressing-room, and was just
going to set the candle down, when his
eye fell on a cobra, coiled up on the
chair on which he was about to seat
himself. No stick was at hand, but he
smote the snake with the book. Struck in
the right place, they are not difficult to
kill. So "St. Paul and the Viper" put an
end to the cobra. That the bite of this
snake is not, however, certain death we
had a curious instance.
One of our servants, a very strict
Mahometan, believed himself charmed
against poisonous reptiles, and used to
bring me centipedes and scorpions in his
hands, saying they never hurt him. He
left our service and was employed by the
Borneo Company, about half a mile from
our house. One day, while cutting rattans
in a shed, a cobra bit his thumb. He
thought nothing of it, but, putting away
his work as usual, went home, cooked his
rice and ate his supper. By this time,
however, his arm began to swell and his
head to swim. Instead of going to the
doctor, who then lived close by, he must
needs go to the Bishop to cure him; so
just as we were sitting down to dinner,
about seven o'clock, he reeled into the
house. The Bishop cauterized the wound,
although it seemed too late to be any use;
he was getting cold and faint. However,
by dint of being walked up and down
between two men, and having two whole
bottles of brandy administered to him, a
glass at a time, besides sal volatile,
chloroform, and every stimulant we had,
he got through the night. The Bishop sat
up with him all night, and I could hear
him, when at last I went to bed, calling
out at intervals, "Oh, Allah! Oh, Lord
Bishop!"—so terrible was the pain he
suffered in his arm. His wife, who was
my baby's ayah, appeared in the
morning. "Come," said she, "make no
more noise, keeping everybody awake,
but take up your bed (mat) and let us go
home." He meekly obeyed; but, poor
man, he had abscesses under his arm,
and fell into weak health afterwards; so
it is evidently unwise to despise a cobra.
There were many other snakes besides
cobras, some poisonous, but most of
them harmless.
The Marquis Doria and Signor Becarri,
two distinguished naturalists, who lived
for some months at Sarawak, collecting
bird-skins, insects, and plants, told me
that the natives often represented a
snake to be poisonous which was not so.
However, we had the mata hari, sun-
snake, black and coral colour, and a
metallic green flat-headed creature,
Fortrex trigonocephalus, which were
venomous enough. I once had a little
flower-snake for a pet. It was beautifully
marked with green and lilac, and used to
catch flies climbing about the room; but
one day it mounted to the top of a high
door, the wind blew the door to, and my
pretty snake was thrown to the ground
and broke its back.
The boa-constrictor—sawar, as the
Malays called it—lived in the jungle and
rice-swamps. Sometimes it attained an
enormous size. An Englishman told me
that he and some Malays were exploring
the jungle to find traces of antimony ore,
and came to an opening in the wood,
across which they saw the body of a
sawar as thick as his own—he was not
very stout—moving along; but they
never saw either the head or tail of that
snake, for, after watching its progress
for a long time, they were seized with a
panic at its enormous length, and fled.
A Malay whom we knew very well,
Abong Hassan by name, and a mighty
hunter, told us that once, when he was
seeking deer in the forest, towards
evening he sat down to rest, and cook
his rice, on what he thought was a great
fallen tree. While thus occupied, he felt
his seat moving from under him, and,
starting up, found he had been making
use of a huge sawar lying inert and
distended with food. He killed it, and
found a full-grown deer in its stomach.
These snakes must live to a great age,
and grow always, to attain such a size.
Some people kept a small boa in their
house to kill rats, but we found they
were equally fond of chickens, and
therefore not desirable inmates; for at
Sarawak chickens were the principal
animal food to be had, and it was
necessary to keep a stock of them.
After some years we built up the lower
story of the mission-house with bricks, to
make it more substantial and cooler. The
ground floor was at first wholly occupied
with the school, the dormitory on one
side, the matron's and girls' room on the
other, and a large schoolroom through
the centre of the house. A similar room
over it was our dining-room, and was
used for divine service until the church
was finished. The library and our
bedroom were over the boys' dormitory,
and bedrooms for missionaries on the
other side. There were also three rooms
in the roof, which made good bedrooms,
but were too hot for use in the daytime.
The roof was covered with shingles of
balean-wood, which only grows harder
and darker coloured from rain and use.
They were blown off sometimes in the
storms to which we were subject, but
were otherwise more lasting than any
other kind of roofing. We used to call
this house Noah's Ark, from the variety
of its occupants. A bell hung in the porch
roof, and rung at different hours to call
the workmen and regulate the school.
The people in the town got so used to it
that, when we discontinued it for a time,
they sent a petition that it might begin
again, for without it they never knew
what o'clock it was. When the school
outgrew this house we built another for
the boys, their master, and the matron,
close by; but I always kept the girls with
us until Julia married, when they were
sent to the Quop, in charge of the
missionary's wife there.
Long before we left the court-house, Mr.
and Mrs. Wright decided to give up the
Sarawak mission, and went to Singapore,
where Mr. Wright became master to the
Raffles Institution for the education of
boys. We were therefore quite alone
until February, 1851, when the Bishop of
Calcutta paid us a visit to consecrate the
church, and brought with him Mr. Fox
from Bishop's College, to be catechist,
with a view to his future ordination.
Very soon after him came the Rev.
Walter Chambers from England, and
about the same time Mr. Nicholls also
arrived from Bishop's College; but, as he
only wished to stay for two years in the
country, he had scarcely time to learn
the language before he returned to
Calcutta.
CHAPTER IV.
PIRATES.
When we first lived at Sarawak, the
coasts and the seas from Singapore to
China were infested with pirates. "It is in
the Malay's nature," says a Dutch writer,
"to rove the seas in his prahu, as it is in
the Arab to wander with his steed on the
sands of the desert." Before the English
and Dutch Governments exerted
themselves to put down piracy in the
Eastern seas, there were communities of
these Malays settled in various parts of
the coast of Borneo, who made it the
business of their lives to rob and destroy
all the vessels they could meet with,
either killing the crews or reducing them
to slavery. For this purpose they went
out in fleets of from ten to thirty war-
boats or prahus. These boats were about
ninety feet long; they carried a large gun
in the bow and three or four lelahs,
small brass guns, in each broadside,
besides twenty or thirty muskets. Each
prahu was rowed by sixty or eighty oars
in two tiers, and carried from eighty to a
hundred men. Over the rowers, and
extending the whole length of the vessel,
was a light flat roof, made of split
bamboo, and covered with mats. This
protected the ammunition and
provisions from rain, and served as a
platform on which they mounted to fight,
from which they fired their muskets and
hurled their spears. These formidable
boats skulked about in the sheltered bays
of the coast, at the season of the year
when they knew that merchant-vessels
would be passing with rich cargoes for
the ports of Singapore, Penang, or to and
from China. A scout-boat, with but few
men in it, which would not excite
suspicion, went out to spy for sails. They
did not generally attack large or armed
ships, although many a good-sized Dutch
or English craft, which had been
becalmed or enticed by them into
dangerous or shallow water, was
overpowered by their numbers. But it
was usually the small unarmed vessels
they fell upon, with fearful yells, binding
those they did not kill, and burning the
vessel after robbing it, to avoid
detection. While the south-west monsoon
lasted, the pirates lurked about in
uninhabited creeks and bays until the
trading season was over. But when the
north-east monsoon set in, they returned
to their settlements, often rich in booty,
and with blood on their hands, only to
rejoice over the past, and prepare for
next year's expedition. There are still
some nests of pirates in the north of
Borneo, although of late the Spaniards
have done much to exterminate them.
But when Sir James Brooke first visited
Sarawak, the nobles there, and their
sultan at Bruni, used to permit, nay,
encourage, piratical raids against their
own subjects at a little distance,
provided they shared in the profits of
the expedition, thus impoverishing the
country they ruled, and putting a stop to
all native trade—a short-sighted and
wicked policy. It took a good many years
of stern resistance on Sir James Brooke's
part before the Bruni nobles could be
cured of their connivance of pirates,
whether Malay or Dyak.
The Dyaks of Sarebas and Sakarran, a
brave and noble people, were taught
piracy by the Malays who dwelt among
them. These Dyaks were always head-
hunters, and used to pull the oars in the
Malay prahus for the sake of the heads of
the slain, which they alone cared for.
But, in course of time, the Dyaks became
expert seamen. They built boats which
they called bangkongs, and went out
with the Malays, devastating the coast
and killing Malays, Chinese, Dyaks,
whoever they met with. The Dyak
bangkong draws very little water, and is
both lighter and faster than the Malay
prahu; it is a hundred feet long, and
nine or ten broad. Sixty or eighty men
with paddles make her skim through the
water as swiftly as a London race-boat.
She moves without noise, and surprises
her victims with showers of spears at
dead of night; neither can any vessel,
except a steamer, catch a Dyak
bangkong, if the crew deem it necessary
to fly. These boats can be easily taken to
pieces; for the planks, which extend the
whole length of the boat, are not
fastened with nails, but lashed together
with rattans, and calked with bark,
which swells when wet; so that, if they
wish to hide their retreat into the jungle,
they can quickly unlace their boats,
carry them on their shoulders into the
woods, and put them together again
when they want them. When we first
lived at Sarawak no merchant-boat
dared go out of the river alone and
unarmed. We were constantly shocked
with dreadful accounts of villages on the
coast, or boats at the entrance, being
surprised, and men, women, and
children barbarously murdered by these
wretches. I remember once a boat being
found with only three fingers of a man
in it, and a bloody mark at the side,
where the heads of those in the boat had
been cut off. Sometimes the pirates
would wait until they knew the men of a
village were away at their paddy farms,
then they would fall suddenly upon the
defenceless old men, women, and
children, kill some, make slaves of the
young ones, and rob the houses.
Sometimes, having destroyed a village
and its inhabitants, they would dress
themselves in the clothes of the slain,
and, proceeding to another place, would
call out to the women, "The Sarebas are
coming, but, if you bring down your
valuables to us, we will defend you and
your property." And many fell into the
snare, and were carried off. If they
attacked a house when the men were at
home, it was by night. They pulled
stealthily up the river in their boats, and
landing under cover of their shields,
crept under the long house where many
families lived together. These houses
stand on high poles. The pirates then set
fire to dry wood and a quantity of
chillies which they carried with them for
the purpose. This made a suffocating
smoke, which hindered the inmates from
coming out to defend themselves. Then
they cut down the posts of the house,
which fell, with all it contained, into
their ruthless hands.
In the year 1849, the atrocities of the
piratical Dyaks were so frequent, that
the rajah applied to the English Admiral
in the straits for some men-of-war to
assist him in destroying them.
Remonstrances and threats had been
tried again and again. The pirates would
always promise good behaviour for the
future to avert a present danger; but
they never kept these promises when an
opportunity offered for breaking them
with impunity. In consequence of Sir
James Brooke's application, H.M.S.
Albatross, commanded by Captain
Farquhar; H.M.'s sloop Royalist ,
commander, Lieutenant Everest; and
H.E.I.C.'s steamer Nemesis, commander,
Captain Wallage, were sent by Admiral
Collyer to Sarawak. Then the rajah had
all his war-boats got ready to join the
English force. There was the Lion King ,
the Royal Eagle , the Tiger, the Big Snake ,
the Little Snake , the Frog , the Alligator,
and many others belonging to the Datus,
who, on occasions like these, are bound
to call on their servants, and a certain
number of able-bodied men living in
their kampongs, to man and fight in
their boats. This is their service to the
Government. The rajah supplies the
whole force with rice for the expedition,
and a certain number of muskets. The
English ships were left, the Albatross at
Sarawak, and the Royalist to guard the
entrance of the Batang Lupar River, into
which the Sakarran and Sarebas Rivers
débouche; but their boats, and nearly all
the officers, accompanied the fleet, and
the steamer Nemesis went also. On the
24th of July they left us, as many as
eighteen Malay prahus, manned by from
twenty to seventy men in each, and
decorated with flags and streamers
innumerable, of the brightest colours,—
the Sarawak flag, a red and black cross
on a yellow ground, always at the stern.
For the Tiger I made a flag, as it was Mr.
Brereton's boat, with a tiger's head
painted on it, looking wonderfully
ferocious. It was an exciting time, with
gongs and drums, Malay yells and
English hurrahs; and our fervent prayers
for their safety and success accompanied
them that night, as they dropped down
the river in gay procession. They were
afterwards joined by bangkongs of
friendly Dyaks, three hundred men from
Lundu, eight hundred from Linga, some
from Samarahan, Sadong, and various
places which had suffered from the
pirates, and were anxious to assist in
giving them a lesson. We heard nothing
of the fleet until the 2nd of August, when
I received a little note from the rajah,
written in pencil, on a scrap of paper, on
the night of the 31st of July, and giving
an account of how they fell in with a
great balla (war fleet) of Sarebas and
Sakarran pirates, consisting of one
hundred and fifty bangkongs, returning
to their homes with plunder and captives
in their boats. The pirates found all the
entrances of the river occupied by their
enemies, the English, Malay, and Dyak
forces being placed in three
detachments, and the Nemesis all ready
to help whenever the attack began. The
Lion King sent up a rocket when she
espied the pirate fleet, to apprise the
rest. Then there was a dead silence,
broken only by three strokes of a gong,
which called the pirates to a council of
war. A few minutes afterwards a fearful
yell gave notice of their advance, and the
fleet approached in two divisions. But
when they sighted the steamer they
became aware of the odds against them,
and again called a council by beat of
gong. After another pause, a second yell
of defiance showed they had decided on
giving battle. Then, in the dead of the
night, ensued a fearful scene. The pirates
fought bravely, but could not withstand
the superior forces of their enemies.
Their boats were upset by the paddles of
the steamer; they were hemmed in on
every side, and five hundred men were
killed, sword in hand; while two
thousand five hundred escaped to the
jungle. The boats were broken to pieces,
or deserted on the beach by their crews;
and the morning light showed a sad
spectacle of ruin and defeat. Upwards of
eighty prahus and bangkongs were
captured, many from sixty to eighty feet
long, with nine or ten feet beam.
The English officers on that night offered
prizes to all who should bring in captives
alive: but the pirates would take no
quarter; in the water they still fought
without surrender, for they could not
understand a mercy they never accorded
to their enemies. Consequently the
prisoners were very few, and the
darkness of the night favoured escape.
The peninsula to which they fled could
easily have been so surrounded by the
Dyak and Malay forces that not one man
of that pirate fleet could have left it
alive. This blockade the Malays
entreated the rajah to make; but he
refused, saying that he hoped they had
already received a sufficient lesson, and
would return to their homes humbled
and corrected. He therefore ordered his
fleet to proceed up the river, and the
pirates went back to Sarebas and
Sakarran. This severe punishment cured
the Dyaks of those rivers once and for all
of piracy, and was the greatest blessing
which could have been conferred on
those fine tribes. They allowed forts to
be built on their rivers, and submitted to
English residents, who ruled them with
the counsel of their own chiefs. In 1857,
when the Chinese rebelled and burnt the
town of Kuching, these Dyaks sent their
warriors to assist the Sarawak
Government; in doing so they joined
other tribes whose hereditary enemies
they had been for many generations.
Some of us felt anxious when we saw the
fleet of Sakarrans and Balows lying side
by side at the Linga Fort; but they all
kept their good faith, and in fighting a
common enemy became friends for
evermore.
In 1852 Sir James Brooke placed Mr.
Brereton in a fort at Sakarran, built at
the entrance of the river. He threw
himself heartily into the work of
improving the people, and gained a good
influence over many. One of the most
important chiefs, Gassim, attached
himself to him, and even gave up the
practice of head-taking to please him.
There were certain paddy farms in the
country which by ancient custom could
only be cultivated by heroes who had
taken many heads. One of Gassim's
people, however, who had never taken a
single head, presumed to clear and plant
some of this ground; whereupon the
other chiefs complained, and one sent a
message to Gassim, that if he did not put
a stop to this breach of law, he would
fight him. Gassim answered that he was
ready to fight with swords if necessary,
but first he begged a conference with all
the other chiefs to discuss the matter. To
this they agreed, and by the force of his
eloquence and the justice of his cause,
Gassim proved to them that the old
custom was bad and ought to be
repealed. About that time Brereton
brought Gassim and a number of his
people to visit Kuching, and the chief
breakfasted with us. When all the school-
children came in to prayers—for the
church was not yet finished—and Gassim
heard them repeat the responses and say
the Lord's Prayer, he was delighted, and
said that he and his people would also
like to be Christians.
We used to like the Sakarrans much
better than their neighbours, the
Sarebas, in those days. They were fine,
tall, handsome men, with straight noses
and pleasant manners. The Sarebas were
coarser-looking people, who disfigured
themselves by wearing brass rings all
along the lobes of their ears: the one at
the bottom was as large as a curtain-ring
in circumference, though of slender
make; it lay on the chest, and by its
weight dragged a great hole in the ear.
These rings were inserted when the
children were quite young, and pulled
their little faces out of shape, giving an
uncomfortable expression. Sarawak
Malays always said, "A Sakarran Dyak
may be trusted, but a Sarebas is
deceitful." It is a curious fact, however,
that the Sakarrans, with all their fair
words and sleek prepossessing looks, did
not embrace the gospel as the Sarebas
did. The Rev. Walter Chambers lived at
Sakarran for some time, but gathered no
converts. He then settled himself among
the Balows of the Batang Lupar and
Linga, and when there was a community
of Christians from these rivers, at
Banting, where Mr. Chambers had built
his church and house, a Sarebas chief,
Buda by name, the son of a notorious old
pirate, happened to meet some of these
Christian Dyaks, and came himself to be
taught. He brought his wife, sister, and
child. They walked upwards of eighty
miles, partly through the mud of the sea-
shore, carrying their mats and cooking-
pots with them, and established
themselves in the mission-house, where
they were kindly welcomed, and stayed
six weeks, during which time they were
so diligent that they learnt to read and
made some progress in writing. This was
in the rainy season, when all farming
operations are in abeyance. The next
year they returned at the same time, but,
meanwhile, they had not been idle, but
had taught all they knew to their
countrymen. Shortly afterwards Buda
was made a catechist, and he excited so
much interest, that in 1867 Mr.
Chambers baptized one hundred and
eighty of these people, who were once the
most dangerous enemies of the English
and the most notorious pirates of
Borneo. Then Buda proceeded to the
village of Seruai, and Mr. Chambers had
soon to visit there, for the people were so
earnest they would scarcely let him sleep,
nor seemed to require any sleep
themselves, but day and night learnt the
hymns and catechism, which they must
know by heart to be baptized. Nearly
two hundred were baptized on the Kryan
River. A catechist had been placed there,
called Belabut. He married Buda's sister,
who walked to Banting for instruction.
She had much influence over the women
of the tribe, and Mr. Chambers said it
was delightful to hear her read "her
beloved gospel" with the correct
pronunciation of an English lady.
The Christians of the Kryan did not keep
the good news to themselves, but
proceeded to teach the next village of
Sinambo. In these villages there are now
school-chapels, built by the Dyaks
themselves. In 1873, Mr. Chambers, who
was then bishop, wrote: "These Sea
Dyaks have made the greatest advances
in civilization and Christianity. Looking
back even five years, there is a great
difference. They have abandoned
superstitious habits." "They no longer
listen to the voices of birds to tell them
when to sow their seeds, undertake a
journey, or build a house; they never
consult a manang [1] in sickness or
difficulty; above all, they set no store by
the blackened skulls which used to hang
from their roofs, but which they have
either buried or given away to any
people from a distance who cared for
them, assuring them at the same time
that they 'were no use.'"
Thus we see what a just punishment and
a fostering Government, added to the
sweet influences of Christianity, have
done for these people; but it took years of
patience and faith to effect so great a
change.
After the pirate fight of 1849, the evil
disposed and turbulent, both of the
Sakarrans and Sarebas, found a leader
in Rentab, a Sarebas chief. He braved
the Government for years. In 1852 his
war-boats appeared above the Sakarran
Fort, and the two young Englishmen
there, Mr. Brereton and Mr. Lee, too
confident in their strength, attacked the
boats with a small force. In this
engagement Mr. Lee was killed, and Mr.
Brereton escaped with difficulty. Several
expeditions were taken into the interior
against Rentab; but he was so clever,
that even when Captain Brooke battered
his stronghold to pieces by having guns
dragged up the steep hill on which his
fort was built, Rentab managed to
escape, and was never taken. His
followers, however, fell away from him
by degrees, and there are now no pirates
in those rivers.
Footnotes:
Heathen doctor.
CHAPTER V.
THE CHURCH AND THE SCHOOL.
As soon as we removed to College Hill,
the building of the church began. On the
28th August, 1850, a few days after the
return of the expedition against the
pirates, the summit of a rising ground
about two hundred yards from the house
having been cleared and levelled, a large
shed was built over the ground, which
the sailors of H.M.S. Albatross, and our
workmen, adorned with gay flags and
green boughs.
A little procession left our house, the
rajah walking first, dressed in full
uniform as Governor of Labuan, and
Suboo, the Malay executioner, holding a
large yellow satin umbrella over his
head, as is the custom on all state
occasions, for yellow is the royal colour
in Borneo; then my husband, in surplice
and hood, the English residents, naval
officers, and, last, a crowd of Malays and
Chinese followed, to witness the
ceremony of laying the first great block
of wood in the foundation of St.
Thomas's Church. After prayers had
been read, the rajah lowered the great
sleeper into its place, and we all
returned home. From that day the
church began to rise out of the earth
with the same seeming magic as the
house had done. It was entirely built of
wood—all the beams, rafters, and posts
of the hard balean-wood, and the roof
covered with balean shingles, like the
house. The planking was a cedar-
coloured wood, and all the arches and
mouldings were finished like cabinet-
work, so that it was both handsome and
durable. The ornamental pillars were
first made of polished nibong palms; but
in a few years these had to be cut away,
as they were full of white ants, and hard
wood substituted. The building of this
little church was most interesting to us.
When my husband was at Singapore for
a short time in 1849, he had the pulpit,
reading-desk, a carved wooden eagle,
and the chairs made there; also a
coloured glass east window was
contrived, with the Sarawak flag for a
centre light. This pleased the Malays;
indeed, they admired the house and
church immensely, and always assured
us that they knew we could not have
built either, unless inspired by good
antoos (spirits).
The baptismal font was a huge clam-
shell, large enough to dip an infant in, if
desired; and this natural font was
adopted in all the churches afterwards
built at Dyak stations—at Lundu, at
Banting, Quop River.
The church bell was a difficult matter.
Nothing larger than a ship bell could be
found in the straits. At last, a Javanese at
Sarawak said he could cast a bell large
enough if he had the metal; so Frank
bought a hundredweight of broken gongs
—there is a great deal of silver in gong
metal—and with these the bell was cast.
Then an inscription had to be put round
the rim—"Gloria in excelsis Deo," in
large letters; and the date, Sir James
Brooke's name on one side, and F. T.
McDougall on the other. It was a great
success, and was safe in the little belfry
before the church was consecrated, in
February, 1851. I do not know whether
this bell is now cracked, but it has
worked very hard from that day—two
services every week-day, and four on
Sunday, to say nothing of extra
occasions. Before long, we found a gilder
who could adorn the reredos. There were
seven compartments at the east end: in
the centre one was a gilt cross, and in
the others, the Lord's Prayer and the
Creed, in English, Malay, and Chinese.
The gilder was a Chinese catechumen,
and was very anxious to do it well; but
he knew nothing of English letters, so
each letter had to be cut in paper, and
he traced it on the wooden panel. It was
necessary to watch him narrowly, or he
put the letters upside down! Such are the
difficulties of making churches in the
jungle. All this took some time to
complete. I had a very severe illness in
November, 1850; and when, about
Christmas, I was able to sit in the
verandah, the progress of the church was
my great amusement, for it was quite
near enough to watch from the house.
In August, 1850, a great influx of Chinese
came to Sarawak. There was a war at
Sambas, the principal Dutch settlement
in Borneo, between the Chinese, who
were friendly to the Dutch, and who
were living at Pernankat, and the
Montrado Chinese, who, with the Dyaks
of the country, rebelled against the
Dutch. The Montrados beat the
Pernankat Chinese, and they fled from
the place, carrying with them their wives
and children, and as much property as
they could cram into their boats. The
boats were overladen, and many of them
perished at sea, but some reached
Tangong Datu. On the 26th of August,
four hundred of these poor creatures
arrived at Sarawak, saying there were
three thousand more starving on the
sands at Datu, who would follow as fast
as they could; and, in course of time,
most of them did find their way up the
river, although those in charge of the
Government (the rajah was at Labuan)
tried to persuade them to make a town
for themselves at Santubong (one of the
mouths of the river). A few of them did
settle at Santubong, but every day
brought boats full of Chinamen into the
place. The rajah fed these poor people
for months with rice, and gave them
tools that they might clear the ground
and make gardens in the jungle. At first,
before they could build themselves
houses, the whole place seemed upset by
them. Many lived in their boats on the
river; every shed and workshop in the
town was full. One night Frank walked
into the church, to see no one was
stealing planks from the unfinished
building. All was quiet, but by a stray
moonbeam he perceived that one end of
the church, already boarded, was full of
mosquito curtains, and they as full of
sleeping Chinamen. Such a thing could
not be allowed—nails knocked into the
polished walls to tie up the curtains,
tobacco perfuming the place, to say
nothing of sparks to light the pipes, and
a considerable allowance of bugs which
Chinese people always carry about with
them. Frank jumped straight into the
middle of the muslin curtains, with a
shout; and amidst a hubbub of tongues,
"yaw-yaw" and laughter, bundled them
all out into the workmen's shed close by,
where they might sleep in peace. It
occurred to my husband that some of
these Chinese would be glad to have
their children brought up with the seven
little orphans we had already, so he went
to Aboo, the Chinese magistrate, and
offered to take ten children into our
house to be brought up as Christians,
baptized, and educated for ten years.
The Chinese value education, and were
very glad to give them to us. I shall
never forget sitting in the porch one
morning to receive my new family.
Neither parents nor children could speak
Malay. They walked up the stairs,
bringing a little boy or girl, nodded and
smiled and put the child's hand into
mine, as much as to say, "There, take it."
One of our Chinese servants then
explained to them what we could do for
the child, and that it must remain with
us until grown up. That day we took
Salion, Sunfoon, Chinzu, Queyfat, Assin,
Umque, Achin, boys; Achong, Moukmoy,
Poingzu, girls. The English nurse we had
brought with us to Sarawak had married
Stahl, the carpenter, of whom I spoke
before, and Mrs. Stahl became the
matron of the school when we moved to
College Hill, and had these ten Chinese
children as well as the orphans to care
for. We were very busy sewing for them,
with a Chinese tailor to help. Blue
jackets and trousers for week-days, and
black trousers and white jackets for
Sundays, had to be made at once. The
girls wore trousers as well as the boys,
only wider, and their jackets reached to
the knee.
At the end of a week they were all clean
and neat. Their heads were shaved every
Saturday, and their long tails freshly
plaited up with skeins of black or red
strong silk, made on purpose. At first a
barber came to do this, but soon the
elder boys learnt to do it, and it was a
regular Saturday business. These ten
children soon learnt to speak Malay.
Then we took five more, and after that
one or two as circumstances threw them
in our way. The school at last numbered
forty-five, but there was not room in the
mission-house for so many; we did not
get beyond thirty the first year of the
school.
I scarcely think thirty English children
could have been so easily reduced to
order as these little Chinese. School must
have been paradise to them after the
hardships they had undergone, and that
perhaps made it easier to please them;
besides, the Chinese readily submit to
rule and method. The day was laid out
for them. They rose at half-past five
when the day dawned; after a bath in a
pond in the grounds, they had a slice of
rice-pudding with treacle on it, and then
went to church for morning prayers. By
seven o'clock they were all at lessons in
the big room—such a buzzing and
curious singsong of Chinese words—until
nine, when the breakfast took place;
rice, of course, and a sort of curry of
vegetables, also a great dish of fish,
either salt or fresh; a little tea for the
elder children, no milk or sugar, and
water for the rest. They soon learnt to
sing their grace before and after meals.
The same kind of meal was repeated at
five o'clock, but on Sunday they had
pork curried instead of fish, and on
festivals chickens. I taught these children
to sing from the first. The Chinese are
not musical generally, and some of them
found the sounds of do , re, mi , very
difficult to master, but we had very nice
singing in church in time; and when a
schoolmaster came who knew plenty of
songs, glees, and rounds, the children
learnt them quickly, and were often sent
for to sing to the rajah and other guests
when they came to dinner.
It used to startle strangers to hear "The
Hardy Norseman," "The Cuckoo," and
such-like songs from the lips of little
Chinese boys. Every Saturday evening
they came to the house to practise the
hymns and chants for Sunday; I had an
harmonium in the dining-room. On
these occasions they all had a cup of tea
and slice of cake, and used to look at the
picture newspapers which had come
from England the last mail. They were
very intelligent boys. It was necessary
they should learn Malay and English as
well as Chinese, and of course
arithmetic, geography, and the usual
rudiments of learning. I have often
watched the Chinese writing-lesson: it
seemed the most difficult branch of their
education—one complicated character,
something like a five-barred gate,
representing a variety of sounds as well
as meanings; but our little fellows learnt
it all. They had a Chinese master as well
as an English, and they soon spoke
English as well as we could desire. My
husband took the greatest interest in this
school. When the children first came he
taught them games and made them
playthings, and they were always about
him. Whenever we went anywhere by
boat a crew of boys was added to the
rowers. They soon learnt to use their
paddles well, and at the public boat-
races, on New Year's Day, pulled their
own boat in the race and sometimes won
it. When my husband became Bishop of
Labuan and Sarawak, he always took
some of the schoolboys with him in his
visits to the different stations. They
helped the church services by their
singing, and had their especial chums
among the Dyak Christian boys in the
different tribes. So many boys passed
through the school during the twenty
years we took an interest in it, that I
cannot even remember all of them. Some
are now catechists among the Dyak
tribes; many entered the service of the
Government or the Merchant Company
as clerks; some went to Singapore and
found employment there. I know of only
one who has as yet been ordained, but
perhaps that time has scarcely yet
arrived in Sarawak. It is difficult for
Malays or Dyaks to look up to a
Chinaman sufficiently to make him their
minister: they are less clever than the
Chinese, but look down upon them
nevertheless—the Malays, because the
Chinese are the workers, and they the
gentlemen; the Dyaks, I suppose, because
they gave them such a thrashing in 1857.
One good consequence of the Chinese
school was, that it attracted the attention
of the parents towards Christianity, and
they presented themselves as
catechumens. There were many
difficulties with the languages, for the
Chinese at Sarawak were not all of the
same tribe, and could not understand
one another. However, after a while a
Chinese professor arrived at Sarawak,
bringing his wife and family with him.
In those days the women were forbidden
to emigrate with their husbands, but
Sing Sing put his wife into a large chest
with air-holes at the top, and brought
her safely from China. The Bishop
employed this man, who was well
educated, to make translations, and to
interpret what he said to the Chinese, so
there were soon Bible classes at our
house every Wednesday evening. Sing
Sing became an inquirer himself while
translating the gospel to others. He was
soon able to hold cottage lectures in the
town, and after some years the Bishop
had the happiness to ordain him as
minister to his people. There was a large
congregation of Chinese at the Sunday
services before we left, and it was a good
proof of the sincerity of these converts,
that while all their heathen countrymen
worked at their trades on Sunday as well
as other days, our Christians spent their
Sunday in worship and rest, which no
doubt was an advantage to their health
as well as their growth in grace.
At Christmas they always shared in our
feasting. We killed an ox, and all the
Christians had beef for their dinner, as
well as all the queer things they delight
in.
In January, 1851, the Church of St.
Thomas at Kuching was consecrated by
Bishop Wilson, of Calcutta. On the
afternoon of the 18th, I was returning
from church, and mounting the flight of
steps which led to the porch of the house,
I saw a large steamer turn the corner of
the Pedungen Reach and anchor above
the fort. It was the Semiramis bringing
the Bishop, Archdeacon Pratt and Mrs.
Pratt, the Rev. H. Moule from Singapore,
Dr. Beale, the Bishop's physician, and
Mr. Fox from Bishop's College. This
party, escorted by Frank, who rushed
home to dress himself in black (his usual
attire being grey flannels and a white
muslin cassock), very soon marched into
the house, exclaiming with pleasure at
the wreaths of white jessamine growing
over the stairs, and the fresh air of the
hill. We had so lately settled in the house
that it was not half furnished, but we
gave up our rooms to our guests and
stowed ourselves in an empty corner. I
remember the satisfaction with which
Mrs. Stahl produced the remains of the
Christmas plum-pudding, and the
comfort it was to have a joint of venison
in the house. Dinner was soon on the
table, and immediately afterwards the
Bishop read prayers and retired to his
room. We all went into the library,
where we had tea and talk. It was very
refreshing to have an English lady to
speak to, and Mrs. Pratt was so tall and
fair that everybody admired her,
especially the Malays, who used to say
that it was sufficient pleasure to look at
her throat only.
The natives used to flock into the house
every evening to see the Tuan Padre
besar (the great priest), and all the new-
comers. At half-past five a.m. the
Bishop's bell used to ring for his servants
to dress him, and bring his tea. The
whole house was astir then. The Indian
servants of the party slept in the
verandahs, and seemed to me to talk all
night.
The next day was Sunday, but the church
was not cleared out for consecration,
and most of the fittings had come from
Singapore in the Semiramis, and could
not be got out on Saturday night. So
morning and evening prayers were as
usual in the dining-room, and what with
the officers of the Semiramis, the English
of the place, the school and our home
party, the room was very full. The
children sang with all their might, and
were much interested with the visitors.
The Bishop and Archdeacon Pratt
preached morning and afternoon. On
Wednesday the church was ready. Mrs.
Stahl and I were up before dawn,
covering hassocks with Turkey red
cotton. The church was tiled, but
platforms of wood, covered with mats,
which were a present from Mr. and Mrs.
Stahl, were placed on the tiles, and the
chairs just arrived by Semiramis stood on
them. We afterwards had to clear the
platforms away—they became full of
white ants; but they looked very well at
first.
When all was ready, Captain Brooke and
all the principal English inhabitants met
the Bishop at the church door, and
presented a petition that he would
consecrate the building. He then entered,
and walked up and down the church
repeating psalms, etc. Then came
morning service; afterwards, the Bishop
preached, and as he was very energetic
and struck the desk with his hand, our
gentle Datu Bandar thought he was
angry, and slipped quickly out of church.
There was a confirmation of a Chinese
teacher and my little maid Susan after
the celebration of Holy Communion, and
then, after three hours and a half
service, we returned home. The next
morning, early, the Bishop consecrated
the burial-ground. He was carried round
it in a chair, for he was unable to walk
much; and though he was a hale old man
of seventy-two, his many years'
residence at Calcutta had, I imagine,
spoilt his walking powers.
He was very kind and friendly to us all,
and admired the church very much. His
visit was a boon to the mission. It
impressed the native mind with the
importance Christians attach to their
churches and to public worship. When
our church bell called us to prayers twice
every day, the Mahometans revived the
daily muezzin at the mosque; and the
sight of the public practice of religion
amongst us quickened the Malays in the
performance of their own religious rites,
and from that time there were many
more pilgrims to Mecca from Sarawak.y