CHAPTER XV

The Rajah’s expedition had been successful. The enemy’s villages and rice farms were destroyed so as to compel the people to move farther down the river and form settlements under the supervision of the Lobok Antu Fort officials, about fifty miles above Simanggang.

Two or three days after the Rajah’s return we took leave of Mr. Maxwell, and embarked in our travelling boat to return to Kuching. We spent the night at Lingga, and started off again the next day, intending to break our journey at a place on the coast called Sibuyow. We arrived late in the evening at Sibuyow village, where a messenger, sent by the Rajah the day before, had informed the people that we wished to spend the night at the chief’s house. It had been exceedingly hot during the journey, and when we arrived at our destination I was almost dead with fatigue. Serip Bagus, another descendant of the Prophet, chief of Sibuyow, accompanied by the whole village, men, women, and children, was awaiting our arrival on the bank, with gongs and all sorts of musical instruments, making a weird and rhythmic noise. The moon had risen and the palms and mangroves lining the banks looked jet-black against the pale, starlit sky. The mangroves all down the river were one mass of fireflies, reminding me of Christmas trees magnificently illuminated.

My passage on shore was made with the customary difficulty. The ladder, laid across the mud, was not at all easy for me to negotiate, for the rungs were from two to two and a half feet apart. There were so many people to help me, however, that I managed the ascent without mishap.

Serip Bagus and his wife, the Seripa, had taken great pains to put their house in order for our arrival. Following the Rajah, the chief’s wife took me by the hand and led me into a room, at one end of which was a large raised platform, on which were laid mats and embroidered cloths for the Rajah and myself to sit on. This audience-room, similar to those built in almost all Malay chiefs’ houses, was filled with the village people, who had come to see the Rajah and listen to what he had to say. I was very tired and longed for rest, but did not like to say anything for fear of disappointing the people who had so kindly prepared this reception for us. The Rajah and I sat side by side on the platform, whilst the chiefs made interminable speeches. I got more and more tired, and at last said to the Rajah: “I must go away; I am so tired.” The Rajah begged me to try and keep up a little longer on account of the people. At length, however, people or no people, I could stand it no longer, and going behind the Rajah on the platform, laid full length on the floor, and fell fast asleep, regardless of any kind of etiquette. I must have woke owing to the conversation ceasing, and found the chief’s wife bending over me. She told me she would lead me to a room where a bed was prepared for me, and taking my right hand, followed by her daughter, a young girl, dressed in silks, satins, and gold ornaments, together with four of the most aged females it has ever been my lot to see alive, she led me into the women’s apartment, where, occupying about a quarter of the room, was a huge mosquito house. This was hung with valances of red-and-gold embroidery. Lifting up a corner of the curtain, the chief’s wife took me, as she called it, to bed. Seven pillows, like hard bolsters, stiff and gorgeous with gold embroidery, were piled one over the other at the head of the bed—​these being the seven pillows used on all Muhammadan couches, and below them was a hard, knobbly gold-embroidered bolster for me to rest my head on. The chief’s wife took her position at my feet, with a fan, whilst the four old ladies, who grunted a good deal, each occupied a corner of the curtains, two of them holding sirih boxes and two paper fans, in order that I should not want for anything in the night. When daybreak came, I knew I should have to tell them I was awake and wanted to get up, seeing they would not dare to speak. All over Sarawak, whether amongst Malays or Dyaks, it is thought dangerous to awaken anyone from sleep, in case their souls should be absent from their bodies and never return again. Ima was not permitted inside my mosquito curtains, nor was she allowed to accompany me to my morning bath. The chief’s wife, his daughter, his female cousins, his aunts, and the four old cronies with their sirih boxes and paper fans, came with me into the garden, where there was a pool of water. I stepped into this, and was handed a leaf bucket by the chief’s wife, with great ceremony; this I filled repeatedly with water from a jar at the side of the pool and poured over my head. Dressed, as I was, in Malay costume, and bathing in a sarong, my change of clothes was easily effected. After my bath I joined the Rajah, who was having his tea. We partook of this meal in public, the villagers bringing us baskets of mangosteens, oranges, limes, eggs, ancient and modern, and many other things, too numerous to mention, considered delicacies by these people.

On this occasion we were without either guards or police, and if I remember rightly, the Rajah’s crew consisted of men from the village of Simanggang.

As I was in the throes of negotiating the slippery ladder at the landing-place, on my way to the boat, a very shabby and not overclean old lady, who, I believe, was one of the chief’s servants, rushed up to me and deposited in my hand a solitary egg. I carried this touching little present to the boat in fear and trembling, lest it should break or fall out of my hand, and thus disappoint the old dame.

Our journey across the sea was not without incident. We were in a shallow canoe, manned by some thirty men, and as we hugged the shore (it would not have been safe to go very far out to sea) a storm came on, and the boat began to rock badly. It was lucky that at critical moments our crew could jump out along that shallow part of the coast and keep the boat from turning turtle. Curiously enough, I am never sea-sick in a small boat. The danger on this occasion lay in the fact that to get into the Sarawak River we had to cross the mouths of the Sadong and Samarahan Rivers, and although I was perfectly unaware of the danger, the Rajah was a little anxious once or twice when, in crossing the bar, great rollers dashed themselves against our palm-leaf awnings and threatened to overwhelm us. I think the journey took about six hours, and by the time we entered the Sarawak River we were drenched. It was difficult to change one’s clothing in the boat, as we were exposed to view, so we had to make the best of it. It is often said that sea water never gives one cold, and I suppose this must be true, for in spite of our wetting we were none of us the worse for the experience. Ima was very amusing; she kept whispering to me that if the Rajah liked he could make the sea behave better, but as he did not seem to worry, she supposed it did not matter very much. I was very glad when we arrived at our comfortable Astana, and could sleep between linen sheets once more.