White Rajah Page 5

  Legend has it that, when James Brooke was riding a horse in Singapore, his mount kicked and cracked a stone brought in ballast from Sarawak, and the break showed the dull gleam of antimony ore. It was explained that this was one of the few commercial exports of that backward place and Singapore had a stranglehold on it. In the trade, indeed, the ore was known as ‘Singapore stone’ and in Malay its name is sarawak. The metal had only a few sources but there was a steady demand for it. Natives used it to colour their sarongs and as a cosmetic to add mystery to their beautiful brown eyes. Westerners turned it more brutally into type metal, tin cans and bullets. Makota was determined to dominate this valuable export, and it was this resource that had led to a direct confrontation with the local Malays.

  As Commander-in-Chief of the Brunei forces Makota avoided making any rash moves by making none at all. Warfare consisted largely of the erection and dismantling of wooden fortifications, the actual work being done by the Chinese and the Dayaks. As soon as one was completed, it was dismantled again to be put up somewhere else. The fortifications served largely for the beating of gongs and the shouting of insults. ‘Like the heroes of old, however, the adverse parties spoke to each other: “We are coming, we are coming,” exclaimed the rebels; “lay aside your muskets and fight us with swords.” “Come on,” was the reply; “we are building a stockade and want to fight you.” And so the heroes ceased to talk but forgot to fight.’1 Hassim’s army was not impressive to James’s eyes. There were two hundred Chinese armed with swords, spears, shields and a primitive sort of two-man musket that was an iron tube using powder to fire a metal slug. ‘Powder is poured in, the end knocked on the ground, and the slug with another knock sent on the powder, without either ramming or cartridge.’ When it comes to firing, ‘one holds the tube over his shoulder, the other takes aim, turns away his head, applies his match and is pleased with the sound’.2 There was not, he implied, likely to be much effect beyond the sound. Sarawak combat would later be revolutionised by the British use of efficient military rockets. There were 250 Malays, loyal to the Bruneians, some with muskets and a few swivel guns, and Dayaks with not much at all. A sort of armour would be constructed out of rattan, or hide, or metal plates – some indeed ingeniously adopted the lead lining of tea-chests – but this was only effective against poisoned darts. The most important weapon was sharpened bamboo stakes, which played havoc with bare feet.

  All in all, James reckoned on three hundred actual fighting men, but more effort was spent in preventing the allies from falling on each other than was devoted to attacking the enemy. There were endless plans that came to nothing, assaults that were broken off when there was a risk of imminent success. In two months of warfare no men were lost and only five of the enemy even claimed dead. James, however, saw this warfare as a great evil. ‘It is the slow poison which wastes the strongest frame, the smouldering fire which does its work of destruction slowly but surely. Year after year it is protracted; few fall in open fight, but prisoners and stragglers are murdered; and whilst both weak parties, gradually growing weaker, hold their own ground, the country becomes a desert.’3 He sent in some 6-pounders and breached the enemy fort from the safety of his own, but could not persuade the Bruneians to follow it up.

  Seeing the effect, I proposed to Makota to storm the place with 150 Chinese and Malays. The way from one fort to the other was protected. The enemy dared not show themselves for the fire of the grape and the canister, and nothing could have been easier; but my proposition caused a commotion which it is difficult to forget, and more difficult to describe. The Chinese consented, and Makota, the commander-in-chief, was willing; but his inferiors were backward, and there arose a scene which showed me the full violence of the Malay passions, and their infuriated madness when once aroused. Pangeran Usman urged with energy the advantage of the proposal, and in the course of a speech lashed himself to a state of fury; he jumped to his feet, and with demoniac gestures stamped round and round, dancing a war-dance after the most approved fashion; his countenance grew livid, his eyes glared, his features inflamed; and for my part, not being able to interpret the torrent of his oratory, I thought the man possessed of a devil, or about to ‘run a-muck.’ But after a minute or two of this dance, he resumed his seat, furious and panting, but silent.4

  Having thus spent all their passion in rhetoric and dance, no one actually attacked. Instead they bickered among themselves, postured and delayed. James returned to Kuching in outrage. He even took his guns back and, since they would not let him take complete charge, refused to participate at all.

  It must be asked what were James’s motives in returning to Sarawak and becoming involved in this depressing struggle. He himself invokes ‘my reluctance to quit the Rajah in the midst of difficulty and distress and his very sad face whenever I mention the topic.’5 Doubtless friendship bound the two, but there are other considerations. First, there is James’s ambition to insinuate himself into Sarawak affairs, to be a big fish again even in a small tropical pool. What better opportunity could be offered to gain that fame he always hungered for than by winning the war? He had enough of what might be politely termed ‘self-confidence’ to imagine he could take over such an enterprise. Then there is his simple passion for adventure and his state of terminal boredom in Singapore and the absence of anything better. Again, James argues that his participation in the war at least ensures that humane treatment is afforded to women and children. But there is another focus of interest in Sarawak. It is love again.

  One of Hassim’s many younger brothers was called Prince Badrudeen. He was energetic, bold and manly, and James was very, very taken with him. From some time in 1840 they appear inseparable. The young prince accepted James as his mentor in all things, adopted western customs, drank wine, dressed in European clothes. James’s concern with Badrudeen shows a pattern of attraction that will repeat itself regularly throughout his life: the flattering attention, the seeking-out of the company of the new, young find, the selfless bestowal of patronage, the concern with his education and development, the breathy descriptions of his qualities in letters to others and usually – finally – the emotional retirement of the loved one to become a Sarawak official. In 1843 James wrote to his mother,

  I wish you could know the Pangeran Badrudeen, who with the amiable and easy temper of his brother Muda Hassim, combines decision and abilities quite astonishing in a native prince, and a directness of purpose seldom found in an Asiatic. As a companion I find him superior to most of those about me, and there is something particularly interesting, in sounding the depths and shallows of an intelligent native mind, and examining them freed from the trammels of court etiquette.6

  He also wrote to Templer about Badrudeen’s cleverness and his being ‘fitted by nature to govern’ and described him as ‘an exception – a striking and wonderful instance of the force of good sense over evil education’.7 At the end of his life James lamented of Badrudeen, ‘My love for him was deeper than anyone I knew.’ Badrudeen played no small part in attracting James’s attention to the muddy backwater that was Sarawak.

  In return for James’s continued help in the war, Rajah Muda Hassim now offered him the whole state of Sarawak. ‘The country was offered to me. The only inquiry was, whether the Rajah had the right and the authority to make over the country to me, and this I was assured he had. The government, the revenue (with slight deductions for the Sultan) and one of his brothers to reside here in order to ensure the obedience of the Malays were all comprehended in this cession, freely and without condition.’8 We may speculate on which brother was to be chosen to stay with James.

  It is a standard part of most of the founding charters of colonisation that the native rulers fell over themselves to give their countries away to Europeans. They did not even have to have a language in common to do it. Francis Drake had Californian Indians begging Queen Elizabeth to take them over quite unambiguously in signs. We should not forget that Hassim still thinks he is dealing with the British Navy rather
than simply James Brooke Esq., so that an alliance with James is, for him, perhaps the only way of swiftly ending the war and returning from this tedious exile to Brunei, where he can be sure his enemies are already plotting. Yet it is hard not to believe that the suggestion came from James rather than, as he insists, the other way round.

  There is plenty in the previous writings of James Brooke to show that he had designs on Sarawak. What was lacking was a single individual who embodied his vision of what it was to become, a glittering, ideal specimen around whom this romantic vision could crystallise. Then, suddenly there is Badrudeen. Amongst what James sees as the mass of idle and cowardly Malays of the army, the prince stood out as the glorious exception, the only one ready for vigorous measures. Badrudeen was the new improved Sarawak incarnate, and his role in the war proved it.

  The fighting was hardly being prosecuted with passion. ‘We found the grand army in a state of torpor, eating, drinking, and walking up to the forts and back again daily; but having built these imposing structures, and their appearance not driving the enemy away, they were at a loss what next to do …’9 No problem, James would show them what to do. The solution was, as always, that they should charge, even if this had to be on foot rather than on horseback as in India, and it was Badrudeen’s ‘overawing presence’ that would make them. But the Malays wrong-footed James, turned things around and refused to attack, urging that they dared not risk Badrudeen’s precious royal life. ‘Badrudeen insisted that if I went he would likewise go and the Malays insisted that if he went they would not go …’ So Badrudeen and James retired and directed the artillery from a place of safety; all went well until the surreptitiously advancing assault troops betrayed themselves by making the mistake of praying too loudly – attracting the attention of all three old muskets in the hands of the defenders – at which they prayed still more loudly and swiftly retired.

  At the front, everyone built more forts and James looked for more things to charge.

  A Dayak came running through the jungle, and with gestures of impatience and anxiety begged me to assist the party attacked. He had been sent by my old friend the Temonggong of Lundu, to say that they could not hold the post unless supported. In spite of Makota’s remonstrances, I struck into the jungle, winded through the narrow path, and after crossing an ugly stream, emerged on the clear ground. The sight was a pretty one: to the right was the unfinished stockade, defended by the Temenggong; to the left, at the edge of the forest, about twelve or fifteen of our party, commanded by Illudeen, whilst the enemy were stretched along between the points, and kept up a sharp shooting from the hollow ground on the bank of the river. They fired, and loaded, and fired, and had gradually advanced on the stockade as the ammunition of our party failed; and as we emerged from the jungle, they were within twenty or five-and-twenty yards of the defence. A glance immediately showed me the advantage of our position, and I charged with my Europeans across the padi-field; and the instant we appeared on the ridge above the river, in the hollows of which the rebels were seeking protection, their rout was complete. They scampered off in every direction, whilst the Dayaks and Malays pushed them in the river. Our victory was decisive and bloodless: the scene was changed in an instant, and the defeated foe lost arms, ammunition etc. etc whether on the field of battle or in the river, and our exulting conquerors set no bounds to their triumph.10

  This minor victory was a turning point. It emboldened James to neatly sidestep the Bruneian administration by using the political power of religion, which might have been thought to count against him as an infidel. He and some of the Malays on either side, who were sharifs (locally sherip) – descendants of the Prophet – imposed a parley on their own initiative. Interestingly, these are precisely the people who would later be a constant source of trouble to him and whose influence he would most deplore and seek to control. The terms were simple: the rebels would surrender if their lives were spared – but James lacked the authority to guarantee this. Instead he placed them royally under his personal protection, persuading the Chinese and the Malays within the Bruneian forces to promise that there would be no plundering of the area – which, urged on by Makota, their commander-in-chief, they attempted to do the very next day. Risking everything, James had his men fire over their heads and browbeat Hassim into sparing the lives of the rebels. Hostages were taken, arms surrendered, the forts burned. The four years’ war was over and James Brooke had imposed his personal peace on Sarawak, but Makota would be henceforth his personal enemy. James’s own struggle for power had just begun.

  It started with a peaceful visit by a fleet of Illanun (Philippine) pirates with a few allies from Halmahera in the Moluccas to the east. James was fascinated by their accoutrements and wild dances, by the huge warboats with fifty oars. He noted the constitution of the crew, most being mere slaves, and remarked, ‘The Datus, or chiefs, are incorrigible; for they are pirates by descent, robbers from pride as well as taste, and they look upon the occupation as the most honourable hereditary pursuit. They are indifferent to blood, fond of plunder, but fondest of slaves … A few severe examples and constant harassing would soon cure this hereditary and personal mania for the rover’s life.’11 This would be the business of the next few years.

  A very odd deal was struck with Hassim. James received some sort of warrant as Resident, though this referred only to his right to stay in the country and ‘seek profit’. This, it was explained, was mere political expedience, to avoid giving fright to the Sultan back in Brunei. He was now to go to Singapore and bring back a cargo to stimulate trade. He would receive a shipment of antimony ore in return and they would build him a house while he was gone. This would be James Brooke’s last attempt at direct trade, for he early came to recognise that his father had been right about his mercantile limitations. He would talk readily enough about the expansion of British trade to rally support among merchants at home, but ‘As a man of commerce I am a fool – fit to talk about the national debt but as for saving sixpence I cannot do it.’12 Anyway, James was always happy to be bad at business, as a sign of his own gentlemanly quality, for deep down he had much the same distaste for trade and the same love of roving as his pirate visitors. He knew that what called them to arms was above all the lure of sheer excitement, relief from the boredom of a regular existence, the dullness of the kind of life he was seeking to impose on them, so he would often admire them as he fought them, a very gentlemanly concept of war that served also to disguise the imbalance of armament on the two sides.

  There now came an obscure period in the affairs of Sarawak. James returned with a new vessel, the Swift, and a cargo which was joyfully carried away by Hassim. The promised house had not been built. The promised antimony had not been collected for shipment. In fact, nothing much had been done and nothing much would be done for another five months. James noted with astonishment that the Bruneians were now even unwilling to profit from his extensive views on the country and how it was to be managed. He was ‘clipped like Samson’ and paid back in the coin of empty courtesies. His trump card of course was his armed vessel in the harbour, but he was reluctant to use it, thinking still in terms of going on to Brunei, where such an act would count against him. The crisis, when it finally came, was precipitated by the threat to the upriver Dayaks.

  In accordance with ancient usage, a fleet of a hundred Malay vessels from the Skrang and Saribus Rivers was to be permitted by the Bruneians to sail upstream to murder and plunder Sarawak citizens in return for a cut of the profits. James was simply appalled – ‘the idea of letting 2500 wild devils loose in the interior of the country is horrible’13 – and demanded the fleet’s recall. There was no response. He took to his man-of-war. Hassim sulked and took to his harem. But he reluctantly called back the marauders, and both agreed to blame all on Makota. James again took a great gamble and upped the stakes in a blatant demonstration of his own security of tenure. He sent what antimony ore he had been able to gather to Singapore, and dispatched the Royalist to Brunei on rumours
of a British ship being in distress there. He was so annoyed with the Bruneians that he even sent Badrudeen away. Apart from three companions he was now quite alone and undefended, and he settled down to write a description of the Malay fashion of chess-playing, as a metaphor for the political power of which he was deprived. He had now adopted a Dayak boy called Situ and a ‘passionate’ Buginese from South Sulawesi, Sika.

  The Royalist returned with the news that the Sultan of Brunei had been hostile and clearly meant to ransom the British seamen, so James threatened British action against the unimpressed Bruneians. Hassim as usual dithered and delayed. The atmosphere became ever tenser. Was James ruler or was he not? And then, out of the blue, as if magically summoned by James, the East India Company steamer Diana sailed into the river from Singapore and belched arrogant black smoke over the town. It was the first steamer ever to enter the river. James basked in its ‘reflective power’. The cavalry had arrived. Now he could charge again.

  Following physical violence on a respectable Chinese and an attempted poisoning both of which James also laid at ‘the cunning and diabolically intriguing’ Makota’s door, he felt his ‘little treasury of grievances’ had given him the excuse he was looking for. The rebels, Malay and Dayak, whose lives he had saved from the recent war offered support, so that he now had a local constituency.

  I landed a party of men, fully armed, and loaded the ship’s guns with grape and canister; after which I once more proceeded to Muda Hassim and protested my kindness towards him, exposed Makota’s machinations and crimes, his oppression and his deceit, and threatened him with an attack, as neither Muda Hassim nor myself were safe, while he continued practising these arts … After this demonstration, affairs proceeded cheerily to a conclusion. The Rajah was active in settling; the agreement was drawn out, sealed and signed; guns fired, flags waved; and on 24th September 1841, I became the governor of Sarawak with the fullest powers.14