vessel, and expecting an easy prey, advanced with boldness and opened fire upon them. They were quickly undeceived, and in a few minutes three out of the six prahus were captured, with a loss of over twelve killed and many wounded. Neither the Rhio Malays nor those of the islands were pirates, and the former under an envoy were collecting tribute for the Sultan of Lingin, but the temptation was irresistible to a people with piracy innate in their character. They protested it was a mistake, and that with the sun in their eyes they had mistaken the boats for Lanun pirates! The little English flotilla had suffered no casualties, and a severe lesson had been administered, which was rightly considered to be sufficient. The wounded were attended to, and, having been liberally supplied with fresh provisions, Lieutenant Wilmot Horton left for Sarawak to rejoin the Dido.
After having been cleverly dodged by three Lanun prahus, the Dido anchored off the Muaratebas entrance on May 13th, and proceeded up to Kuching on the 16th. Keppel described the Rajah's reception by his people as one of undisguised delight, mingled with gratitude and respect, on the return of their newly elected ruler to his country.
The temerity of the pirates had become so great that it was deemed advisable to despatch the little Sarawak gunboat, the Jolly Bachelor, under the charge of Lieutenant Hunt, with a crew of eighteen marines and seamen, to cruise in the vicinity of Cape Datu, and there to await the arrival of a small yacht which was expected from Singapore with the mails, and to escort her to Kuching. Two or three days after they had left, at about 3 o'clock one morning, writes Captain Keppel: —
The moon being just about to rise, Lieutenant Hunt, happening to awake, observed a savage brandishing a kris, and performing his war-dance on the bit of deck in an ecstasy of delight, thinking in all probability of the ease with which he had got possession of a fine trading boat, and calculating the cargo of slaves he had to sell, but little dreaming of the hornets' nest into which he had fallen. Lieutenant Hunt's round face meeting the light of the rising moon, without a turban surmounting it, was the first notice the pirate had of his mistake. He immediately plunged overboard; and before Lieutenant Hunt had sufficiently recovered his astonishment, to know whether he was dreaming or not, or to rouse his crew up, a discharge from three or four cannons within a few yards, and the cutting through the rigging by the various missiles with which the guns were loaded, soon convinced him there was no mistake. It was as well the men were still lying down when this discharge took place, as not one of them was hurt; but on jumping to their legs, they found themselves closely pressed by two large war-prahus, one on each bow. To return the fire, cut the cable, man the oars, and back astern to gain room, was the work of a minute; but now came the tug-of-war, it was a case of life and death. Our men fought as British sailors ought to do; quarter was not expected on either side; and the quick and deadly aim of the marines prevented the pirates from reloading their guns. The strong bulwarks or barricades, grapeshot proof, across the fore part of the Lanun prahus, through which ports are formed for working the guns, had to be cut away by round shot before the muskets could bear effectually. This done the grape and cannister told with fearful execution. In the meantime, the prahus had been pressing forward to board while the Jolly Bachelor backed astern; but as soon as this service was achieved, our men dropped their oars, and seizing their muskets dashed on: the work was sharp but short, and the slaughter great. While one pirate boat was sinking, and an effort made to secure her, the other effected her escape by rounding the point of rocks where a third and larger prahu, hitherto unseen, came to her assistance, and putting fresh hands on board and taking her in tow, succeeded in getting off, although chased by the Jolly Bachelor, after setting fire to the crippled prize, which blew up and sank.113
None of the crew of this prahu survived, and so few in the second prahu, that, when she separated from her consort, the slaves arose and put them to death. They were the same three prahus that had eluded the Dido.
Having satisfied himself as to the character of the Saribas and Sekrang Dayaks, and how the chiefs governing them encouraged their depredations, and having received an appeal from the Rajah Muda Hasim114 to relieve the cost of the perils it underwent, Captain Keppel resolved to attack the Saribas first, as being the most formidable of the two piratical hordes.
Preparations for the expedition were soon commenced. It was to consist of a native force of 300 Malays, the Dido's three large boats, and the Jolly Bachelor, manned by blue-jackets and marines, all under the command of Lieutenant Wilmot Horton. The datus were opposed to the Rajah going – they thought the risk too great, but on his expressing his determination to do so, and leaving it to them to accompany him or not, their simple reply was, "What is the use of our remaining? If you die, we die; and if you live, we live; we will go with you."115 The Rajah and Captain Keppel accompanied the expedition in the Dido's gig.
Intelligence of the design was carried far and wide. The Saribas strengthened their defences, and several of the half-bred Arab sherips living nearer Sarawak sent in promises of good conduct. Tribes that had suffered from the depredations of the pirates offered to join in attacking them, and the force thus augmented by several hundreds of Dayaks started early in June.
The first skirmish fell to the lot of Datu Patinggi Ali, who, having been sent on ahead, met a force of seven prahus at the mouth of the Saribas, which he attacked and drove back, after capturing one. Padi, a stockaded town some 60 miles up the Saribas river, and the furthest up of the piratical strongholds, reputed also to be the strongest and most important, was the first attacked, and though defended by two forts and two booms of forest trees stretched across the river, and being crowded with Malay and Dayak warriors, it was carried on the evening of June 11, and the place committed to the flames. The next day some 800 Balau Dayaks,116 under Sherip Japar of Lingga, joined the force, keen to make reprisals for past injuries.
The enemy, reckoned at about 6000 Dayaks and 500 Malays, had retired up-river, and against them a small force of about 40 blue-jackets and the same number of Malays, under the Rajah and Lieutenant Horton, started the next day. During the night they were repeatedly attacked by the pirates, who, under cover of the darkness, closed in on their assailants, especially where some marines held a post on a cleared height overlooking the river. The pirates lost a good many men, and the next morning, seeing the force again preparing to advance, sent in a flag of truce and sued for mercy. The Rajah then met their chiefs and explained to them that it was in consequence of their acts of piracy that they were now punished; that they had been cautioned two years previously to abstain from these marauding expeditions, and that they had disregarded this monition; he assured them that they would be unmolested if they abstained from molesting others, but that if they continued to prey on their neighbours and to interfere with trading vessels they would receive further castigation.
It was proposed to these people that the towns of Paku and Rembas should be spared, if they would guarantee the future good conduct of the inhabitants. They coolly replied that those people deserved the same punishment, which had better be administered, otherwise they would continue pirating, and would lead the Padi people astray again.
Paku was taken on the 14th, and burnt; here no resistance was met with. The next day the chiefs submitted. On the 17th, Rembas was attacked and taken, the Balau Dayaks, under Sherip Japar, having all the fighting to do. This was the largest and strongest town, and much plunder was secured. After receiving the submission of the Rembas chiefs the expedition returned to Kuching, having, in seven days, destroyed the strongholds of the most powerful and dreaded pirates on the north-west coast of Borneo, who for years had defied both Bruni and Sarawak. Such an impression was produced, that the Sekrangs sent messages promising to abstain from piracy, and offering, if they were spared, to give up a hundred women and children captives; and Sherips Mular and Sahap, fearing the punishment they so richly deserved, sent professions of future good conduct. These were not accepted, but the day of reckoning had to be deferred, for Keppel had received orders to return to China.
The Saribas had suffered, but not the redoubtable Sekrangs, and the former not so severely but that in a couple of years all their losses could be repaired, their stockades be rebuilt, and fresh prahus constructed, and the old story of blood and rapine continued with little intermission, not only by them, but by the Lanuns