At daybreak every man in the fortification again set to work to complete arrangements
for defence. Johannes and Wienersdorf were among the earliest and most active workers.
They hauled up all the canoes and placed them in security, and then levelled the banks
of the river in order to render a surprise by water impracticable. These tasks finished
they dug a quadruple circle of pits around the fortress, and after driving a couple
of pointed stakes in each of them they covered them with a layer of long grass in
order to conceal them from view. They also planted rows of spikes of hard wood in
the vicinity of all the principal approaches.
The Poenans of Harimaoung Boekit were in the meantime occupied in preparing the stake
at which their victim was to be immolated. This, when finished, was planted in the
centre of the quadrangle, the area of which was swept and strewn with white
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sand in accordance with the custom observed on similar occasions. The women were busily
engaged in cooking as the ceremony of the oath of atonement invariably concluded with
a grand festive banquet. They killed two buffaloes and four large pigs, the flesh
of which was made into numerous savory dishes, boiled, roasted and stewed. Instead
of the usual pileworms they had slices of snakes and a bangamat, or flying dog, roasted
whole and served like our sucking pigs. The principal side dish consisted of baloedoek,
an amphibious animal about a foot long, white and covered with fine scales. Its body
resembles a fish and it has the head of a frog. Besides these there were hambatar,
or the larvæ of beetles. They also prepared cakes of rice meal, sago and pisang, while
finally, in the way of confectionery, they had shells filled with tangoeli, the larvæ
of bees stewed in honey, a highly prized delicacy. Every one being thus busily occupied,
the hours of the morning soon passed.
It was close upon noon when all was ready for the ceremony. Amai Kotong then called
the inhabitants of kotta Djangkan together and Harimaoung Boekit formally invited
the Europeans to be present at the ceremony of the oath of atonement. All of them
however could not attend, as they had undertaken to keep the lookout in turns while
the festivities were in progress. La Cueille was first detached for this important
duty. Wienersdorf and Harimaoung Boekit took their places in the midst of six young
men who, with palm branches in their hands, formed a guard of honor for the two heroes
of the festival.
Arrived at the quadrangle, they found all the men dressed in full war costume and
their faces covered by a taboekah or wooden
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mask. They all carried their mandauws and lances and now formed around the stake.
When everything was arranged the priestesses commenced their chants accompanied by
the sound of their katambongs.
The singing lasted until past
mid-day
when the signal for producing the victim was given. While she was fetched from her
cage one of the priestesses mounted an especially prepared ladder and sung an invocation,
beseeching that a favorable omen might be vouchsafed the impending ceremony.
A falcon, as if it had understood the invocation, immediately appeared above the border
of the forest. Rising to the left of the fort it soared higher and higher in the air,
describing large circles until it had mounted midway in the zenith, when it stopped
for a few minutes. After remaining thus motionless for a short time it suddenly uttered
a piercing cry and flew away in the direction whence it had come. Every Dayak present
was affected. The cry uttered by the bird was construed into a warning and regarded
as a most unfavorable omen.
In the meantime the poor woman had entered the circle and two men began to tie her.
She had scarcely strength enough to stand and kept her head gently hanging sideways.
For the rest, she appeared to be calm and freely viewed the environing circle.
After having been securely tied Harimaoung Boekit approached Wienersdorf, made a slight
incision with his knife on his naked chest and collected the blood in a vessel. He
then made a similar incision on his own body, caught the blood in the same vessel
and filled it with toeak. He thereupon raised the bloody mixture and pronounced a
fearful curse upon himself in case he
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should ever break the tie of brotherhood which he was now on the point of cementing.
He called upon every deity and demon to witness his brotherly affection for the saviour
of his life. He invoked their most fearful punishment if he should ever prove false
to him and finished by half emptying the vessel held in his hand. This he next offered
to Wienersdorf who swallowed the contents although his stomach rebelled against the
mixture. After this ceremony the Poenan chief again spoke, addressing the Swiss:
“We are brothers now and I will always treat you as such. But another debt of blood
still exists between us. When I attacked your party I tried to get your heads. During
this struggle one of your companions was killed, several of my own followers perished,
and—blood requires blood. See! in order to satisfy this demand we sacrifice one of
our hirelings. We will besmear her with our own blood which will cancel this debt
and render us free of each other.”
Johannes now took Wienersdorf by the hand and mounted with him the steps recently
vacated by the priestess.
“My brethren,” he addressed the congregation, “my friend Dohong (War Sword), who from
his infancy has lived in Bandjermasin where the great lord of the Dutch reigns, cannot
sufficiently express himself in Dayak and has begged my assistance to speak to you.
He gratefully accepts the bond of Harimaoung Boekit and, happen what may, will always
be a good brother to him. Like the water which, cleft by a mandauw reunites again,
their friendship will remain undisturbed, so that in life and death they may count
upon each other. But our Dohong has been brought
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up amongst the whites. They have taught him that no one is allowed to kill a human
being. Even in Kwala Kapoeas such an act is strictly forbidden. Dohong follows their
customs and abhors the killing of men, unless it is on the battlefield. He therefore
proposes to his brother to spare the life of this woman, and in order to wash away
the debt of blood he suggests that a buffalo shall be sacrificed. You have noticed
the evil omen of the falcon. This only happens because we inhabitants of Kwala Kapoeas
were going to commit a sin by violating the obligation solemnly undertaken by us not
to kill any human beings. Let us then kill a buffalo instead of this woman and you
will see that the omens will change and become favorable.”
Dead silence reigned within the square of kotta Djangkan. At the end of the speech
every face had become darkened and exhibited the greatest dissatisfaction. The Poenans
especially showed their feelings by grasping their mandauws. They considered the words
just uttered as a grave offence against their chief. Harimaoung Boekit now mounted
the steps and addressed the assembly:
“Here in the upper country,” he commenced, “the whites have nothing to say; whenever
they wish to command here, let them come! Are they so careful themselves of human
life? How many thousands of lives have been sacrificed during the war in this beautiful
island? And who caused that war? Did not their avarice? Who will tell of the numerous
Javanese starved to death, because they had to plant coffee or to build kottas for
the palefaces, so that they had no time left them for the cultivation of their own
fields? Do you think we are ignorant of all
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this? They forbid us to kill our hirelings and pretend to have veneration for slaves.
Do not trust white men; their lips are oily but they are hypocrites.” With increased
passion, he continued, “Touch their purse and they will kill hundreds of free men
as well as slaves. They do worse than killing men in order to make money.”
The Poenan paused awhile as if waiting to take breath, when he thus resumed: “But
who cares for the orders of these whites? It behooves every man to follow the institutions
of his country. The ceremony must proceed——unless my brother Dohong refuses to accept
my friendship.”
These last words were uttered in a subdued tone accompanied by a sob. The thought
that his saviour would refuse his friendship visibly affected the child of Nature.
For the rest, the Poenan stood there proud and gallant, his nostrils dilated and his
head thrown back, while his mandauw was already half unsheathed.
Wienersdorf anxiously scanned the surrounding men. La Cueille was absent; Johannes
stood with his head bent upon his chest; the Dayaks of kotta Djangkan uttered a murmur
of approbation and joined the side of their relatives, the Poenans. Even Dalim and
his companions stood motionless. They could not count upon any assistance. A second’s
hesitation would suffice to cause a quarrel which could only terminate in the death
of the Europeans. Wienersdorf foresaw all this and suddenly seizing the hand of Harimaoung
Boekit he raised it to his lips and bowed his head.
Johannes now came forward to the flag-staff, produced a small bundle, tied it to a
line and hoisted it to the top. The boys
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ranged themselves in file; the eldest of them stepped forward and uttering a fiendish
laugh stabbed the victim under the left breast. All single men would have followed
his example by piercing the flesh of the victim with the point of their lances to
the depth of about half an inch but for the events which now occurred and which served
to divert all attention from the victim.
First, she uttered a piercing yell. She had remained calm up to the present, but now
her shrieks were heart-rending.
While all this was taking place Johannes shook the flag line and disentangled the
parcel just hoisted, when the Dutch ensign proudly unfurled itself above the head
of the poor woman.
It seemed as if this tricolor was her salvation, for suddenly two guns were fired
in rapid succession summoning the garrison to the ramparts. Johannes, taking advantage
of the general confusion, rushed forwards, severed the cords by which the victim was
bound and thus liberated her. He then joined his confederates to see what had occurred.
La Cueille, seated in his elevated box, which overlooked the river for a considerable
distance, placed the two loaded guns in position, possessed himself of a lighted torch
and waited his opportunity with a vigilant eye on the river. At last he saw a fleet
of canoes appear from behind an angle of the soengei. He remained quiet, however,
and allowed them to approach nearer still.
The time for action at length arrived. Adjusting the elevation of his guns he applied
the torch to the touchhole, and sent a couple of balls in the midst of the fleet,
sinking one of the canoes and causing no little confusion amongst the rest.
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The Colonel hereupon ordered his men to land so as provisionally to place them out
of danger, and accordingly the whole of the attacking force was soon hidden among
the shrubs and trees of the bank. He knew, however, the danger of leaving his troops
under the influence of this first repulse, and therefore, although the mystery of
the Dutch flag waving from the fortress still puzzled him, he determined not to hesitate,
but collected his forces and advanced to storm the fortification. He remembered the
experience of former contests, that in Indian warfare boldness secures success.
He would undoubtedly have been successful now but for the Europeans within the fortification.
These, as soon as they perceived the enemy to be within range, discharged their guns
loaded with grape, which made the assailants waver. A lively rifle fire terminated
the hesitation of the heroes and drove them to flight before they had had an opportunity
of discharging a single shot. When Harimaoung Boekit witnessed their retreat he could
hardly control himself. He darted out of the fortification to hunt for heads. But
while hacking about among the struggling fugitives a troop of armed warriors suddenly
appeared from behind some ambush and surrounded him. They threw a lasso round his
neck and dragged him away half strangled. Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen, on seeing
this, collected some of their men and hurried to the spot with all speed.
Arriving at the slope of the hill they saw the body of the Poenan being carried off
by a few men. Taking careful aim they discharged their rifles and laid four of the
enemy lifeless. The others hesitated, but knowing their prey to be a chief and
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therefore too valuable to be left behind, they persevered in the attempt although
two more of them were struck down. Suddenly from the fort there issued a reinforcement.
Several natives appeared upon the scene, who rushed forward with their naked mandauws
and after a brief struggle Wienersdorf had the satisfaction of freeing the Poenan
from the rope which had almost strangled him. He offered him his hand, assisted him
in getting up and whispered a salamat, congratulation, in his ear, as he rose to his
feet.
The Poenan took the two Swiss by their hands, which he placed on his own head, saying,
“Paharingkoe, my brethren.”
After a few more shots from both sides everything became quiet.
The assailants effected their retreat and proceeded to count their loss. Five of their
dead they hurriedly buried, but they left more than treble that number of wounded
behind them groaning amongst the shrubs. The garrison of the kotta had lost only one
man, a hireling who had been killed by a rifle shot.
The festivities thus interrupted, were not, however, abandoned. The besieged partook
of the banquet in divisions, one part feasting while the other stood ready to defend
the fort against a renewed attack. All, however, celebrated their victory by partaking
of a bowl of toeak, though they carefully kept within the bounds of sobriety.
Faithful to his reverend character the Walloon abstained from all such food and drinks
as are prohibited by the Prophet. With holy indifference he saw the tidbits disappear
down almost insatiable throats, and he remained perfectly calm when Johannes held
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a delicious pork chop under his nose. As for the toeak, he could only sigh deeply
at the smell of it. He was, however, comforted by a promise conveyed by Johannes to
reserve for him his fair share to be enjoyed after leaving the circle of these profane
ones.
While our Europeans were partaking of the numerous delicacies a Poenan entered and
threw a couple of skulls in the midst of the company. A deafening applause greeted
this action. Two of them grasped the skulls, severed the remaining cervical vertebræ
and with a bamboo knife began to empty the substance of the brain into a dish through
the spinal opening. Another Poenan severed large locks from the heads, cut the hair
into pieces of about one and a half inches and added them with some powdered Spanish
pepper to this bloody mass of brain. The deserters viewed all this in silent horror.
When every particle of brain had been removed from the skulls and the dish was properly
prepared, a Poenan took it up, placed an earthenware spoon in the mixture and offered
it to Johannes who refused it politely. When it was presented to Wienersdorf he glanced
at it, became suddenly over-powered by a feeling of nausea and fell down senseless.
The other Europeans in their consternation took no notice of Wienersdorf’s faint,
and the Dayaks, though a little surprised at the refusal of the foreigners to taste
of this delicacy, were but too delighted to see it all left to themselves. The one
who carried the dish grasped the spoon, filled it, threw his head back and closing
his eyes allowed a fair quantity to glide down his throat, his features all the while
beaming with the utmost delight. He then handed the dish to one of his companions
who went through the same manœuvre and then passed the delicacy further. Slowly
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and with ecstatic happiness they sucked at the hairs which are included in the mixture
for the express purpose of compelling them to enjoy it deliberately.
This loathsome feast was too much for the Europeans. The scene turned their very souls,
and jumping up to fly from this terrible drama, they noticed for the first time that
Wienersdorf had fainted and was lying senseless.
They carried him away with them to the open air where, assisted by draughts of cold
water, they all soon regained their composure.
Harimaoung Boekit now for the second time owed his life to Wienersdorf. He had learned
from his followers with what courage his new brother had come to his assistance. He
approached his rescuer and putting his hand on his shoulder asked whether he could
do anything for him. All he possessed he placed at the disposal of his deliverer and
even offered to become his hireling at the sacrifice of his personal freedom.
Wienersdorf, though still under the influence of the scene recently witnessed, did
not long hesitate. He took the hand of the Poenan, shook it passionately, and begged
for the life of the poor woman who had been temporarily saved from a miserable end
by the unforeseen arrival of the hostile fleet. This request was granted after some
hesitation, the Poenan averring that he could not comprehend why he thus insisted
upon sparing the life of this woman, who besides being the mother of two children
was middle-aged and ill-looking. He felt greatly astonished at the perverted taste
of the Swiss. Anxious, however, to render his deliverer happy by the possession of
a comely wife he
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now offered him his own sister, a young and comely maiden, the pride of her tribe.
Thus by a suitable marriage they would strengthen the tie of brotherhood.
Hamadoe, as the young lady was called, was a splendid creature with a fine complexion
delicately tinted. Her mouth was exquisitely chiselled, her eyes large and dark beamed
with a soft languishing expression, but were also capable of that fiery brilliancy
so often met with in eastern races. Her figure was magnificent, tall, lithe and graceful;
she possessed the carriage which peculiarly distinguishes the child of nature and
which is so rarely encountered in the lands of a civilized society.
Our Europeans had often admired the beautiful Hamadoe and thought her worthy of the
name she bore, sweet honey. Now, however, that this pearl of female beauty was offered
to him, Wienersdorf hesitated and was on the point of refusing. Luckily Johannes interfered
and adroitly answered the Poenan that his friend would gratefully accept his offer
to become the husband of the fair Hamadoe.
Astonished at this unexpected intervention the Swiss looked up and wished to speak;
but Johannes politely begged him to retire; Wienersdorf withdrew accordingly, not
the less determined that however captivating the beautiful Hamadoe might be, he would
not be forced to commit any act of folly.
Harimaoung Boekit led Johannes to his dwelling, the maiden was called, and Johannes
formally proposed for his friend according to the existing Dayak custom. At first
she seemed favorably inclined, but seeing that the agent had not one single skull
to offer as a marriage gift she hesitated. At last she took
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a female dress which was hanging up to dry and offered it to Johannes, saying, “Your
friend is no man, he is only a shy woman and unworthy of male attire; tell him to
wear this petticoat.”
Johannes only smiled without accepting the dress. Harimaoung Boekit here told her
how this stranger had twice saved his life and explained to her that as in the lower
country the Dutch had prohibited head-hunting, his deliverer had to submit to command,
but that he was nevertheless one of the bravest of the brave, a true Dohong.
After this explanation the girl did not further hesitate, but frankly declared that
she would retract her words. She added that she would be proud to please her brother,
and was ready to become Dohong’s partner for life and to share his weal and woe. She
begged her brother to prepare everything for the speedy celebration of the blako ontong,
when they would implore blessings on her marriage from the Radja balawang boelau,
the King of the Golden Gate of Heaven.
All this was said with such charming modesty that Johannes became enchanted with the
maiden and almost envied the good-fortune of his companion. When Hamadoe had retired,
the real marriage treaty was proceeded with. Johannes began with the explanation that
Dohong, being a liberated hireling, was not blessed with any earthly treasure, and
was consequently unable to produce either a high palakko or the usual sums of money
required for the celebration of the marriage. The palakko is a settlement deposited
by the bridegroom with the parents of the bride, amounting, according to the wealth
of the bridegroom, to a sum ranging from fifty to eight hundred guilders.
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This money serves to keep the lover constant; for at the slightest proof of unfaithfulness,
it becomes the property of the wife. Harimaoung Boekit smiled at this communication,
took a few bamboo boxes from the wall and presented them to Johannes, with the information
that they contained about twenty
thaëls
of gold dust, sufficient to provide for all emergencies.
“Could I refuse to part with this gold, and in order to make my brother Dohong happy?”
the generous Poenan chief asked. “I have offered him my body and after that he may
consider everything belonging to me as his own.”
All being thus far settled the wedding-day was next fixed. It was proposed that the
ceremony should be solemnized two months thence, in Harimaoung Boekit’s home, situated
on the soengei Miri, and that in honor of Kadjanka, the ruler of the moon and the
protector of newly married women, it should take place on the day of the full moon.
“And let us hope,” Harimaoung Boekit added, “that our besiegers may have departed
long before that time.”
When Johannes rejoined his comrades a dispute immediately arose between him and Wienersdorf,
who refused to entertain the project of a Dayak marriage.
“I believe you are temporarily insane,” Johannes answered, “however, you speak as
if a separation is so very difficult among the Dayaks. Why, it is even easier to divorce
than to marry here. Each goes his own way and all is over.”
“And all is over, ha! ha!” the Swiss laughed bitterly. “It is very easy indeed to
abandon your unfortunate wife, is it not? I never thought you were such an unscrupulous
scoundrel.”
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“Well, I like that,” Johannes vehemently interrupted. “Here am I, doing my best to
counteract the fatal consequences of your absurd and infirm philanthropy. An angel
of a girl is thrown across the path of your lordship, and because I have accepted
her for you, in the hope of removing the traces of former follies, you coolly reward
my services by calling me an unscrupulous scoundrel. Let me tell you then,” he continued
with increased passion, “you Europeans are not only the most ungrateful, but also
the most impractical beings in creation, thanks to your inflated principles. I am
sure the Creator must now and then feel utterly ashamed of the stupidity of the white
race.”
Johannes appeared supremely handsome in his disdain; his eyes flashed, his nostrils
quivered and the veins of his forehead were visible like swollen cords.
Schlickeisen now appeared as pacificator, saying,
“Don’t feel hurt at an unguarded expression of your companion, which I am positive
he did not mean—did you?”
“The words were certainly spoken without reflection,” Wienersdorf answered solemnly,
“and I will willingly retract them. I was angry at hearing my friend speak so coolly
about marriage and divorce in the same breath.”
“I only made the remark to remove your impression that marriage meant a compulsory
residence in this island. I would feel loath to make a jest of serious subjects, but
I sought to convince you how necessary it is for us to yield to unavoidable circumstances.
As soon as I find myself among whitefaces I will respect their ideas of marriage and
divorce, but while I am among Borneans I accept their customs and institutions.”
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“But permit me to say that I do exactly the same. I fully respect Dayak customs and
nobody will ever reproach me with this want of toleration which you condemn. The people
here and everywhere are at liberty to intermarry and separate as much as they choose,
provided you leave me out of the question.”
“And yet you will have to get reconciled to this marriage,” Johannes answered.
“Never!” exclaimed Wienersdorf.
“But for once, reason sensibly.”
“Reason is out of the question. I will never marry a woman with the knowledge that
in a little while I must put her away from me.”
“But listen; as matters stand just now, the marriage is unavoidable. You have already
seriously offended the Poenan chief during the expiation festival and the mandauws
were half unsheathed. Beware of refusing the hand of his sister for he will take terrible
vengeance. And I repeat what I observed on a former occasion that if you do not yourself
value life you will have to consider us.”
“But,” said Wienersdorf, “is not yours an exaggerated supposition. Will the Poenan
really take the refusal so seriously?”
“Can you doubt it? Have you already forgotten how your behavior during the execution
of that slave made him fear that you did not value his friendship? What will be the
effect of your refusing the hand of his sister so cordially offered to you? It will
most certainly cause a coolness not far removed from animosity. The Poenan will then
withdraw with all his followers and leave us to our fate.”
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“And what if he did?” Wienersdorf said defiantly.
“It would simply deprive us of all assistance from kotta Djangkan. You seem to forget
that we have to thank Harimaoung Boekit for this timely refuge. As soon as the Poenan
leaves us a reconciliation between the kotta and our besiegers will follow, and the
first condition of this reconciliation will be to deliver up the deserters. Such will
be our fate if you persist in refusing to marry.”
“Stop!” Wienersdorf cried, “you drive me mad. To what an extremity have you brought
me?”
“Only to the extremity of marrying a handsome girl, you lucky dog!” the Walloon said
smilingly.
“Listen again,” Johannes continued, firm as fate, “and consider on the other hand
the consequences of this marriage if duly carried out. Harimaoung Boekit’s affection
towards his deliverer will undoubtedly increase, you will belong to his relations
and we will have gained faithful allies. The Colonel will raise the siege of kotta
Djangkan, being unable to capture it with the slender means at his disposal. We will
then travel in company with the Poenan chief to the Miri country where we shall be
in perfect security until we find means to escape.”
Wienersdorf sighed heavily; then offering his hand to his companions he said, with
tears in his eyes:
“Friends, I accede and agree to the marriage.”
“He gives way,” La Cueille cried. “Allah be praised, he consents to marry a most charming
young girl.”
While the deserters were thus busy arriving at a decision, Amai Kotong and Harimaoung
Boekit approached with the intelligence that a Dayak of Kwala Kapoeas had appeared
at the gate
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of the kotta bearing a letter from the Commander. The two chiefs wished to have the
opinions of their friends. They themselves proposed to refuse admittance to the messenger,
as neither of them could read the letter and feared he might be a spy. Johannes asked
Dalim to follow him and they both went outside the gate to learn the errand of the
ambassador. He was a simple Dayak, a follower of Tomonggong Nikodemus, who was commissioned
to deliver the letter into the hands of Amai Kotong himself. At first he refused to
part with the missive, but after Dalim had informed him that he might return whence
he came, but that he could not see the chief of the kotta, he altered his tone and
gave the letter to Johannes. After having perused its contents, the messenger was
bidden to wait outside where the answer would be brought to him.
The letter contained the request of the Colonel to be allowed to enter the kotta unarmed,
accompanied by Tomonggong Djaja Nagara and one other, in order to have an interview
with Amai Kotong. Johannes smiled on reading this. But once inside the fort again,
he called the garrison together in the square, mounted the steps and read with a loud
and penetrating voice, looking solemnly at the paper, how the Commander of Kwala Kapoeas,
in the name of the Resident of Bandjermasin, ordered Harimaoung Boekit with his Poenans
to be delivered up to the gallows as murderers. On hearing the pretended contents
of the letter, a cry of rage arose from all the assembled natives. The Poenan chief
mounted the steps to satisfy himself by looking at the horrible words which pronounced
his sentence. Johannes, after having allowed them for a few moments to give vent to
their
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feelings, commanded silence as he had some further communications to make.
“I have not read all,” he said in a loud voice. “Listen, brothers, to what follows:
If these Poenans, those horrible murderers, are not delivered up before sunset the
inhabitants of kotta Djangkan will feel the avenging arm of the Dutch Government.
The kotta will be taken and levelled to the ground. The soil on which it now stands
will be dug up and the priestesses will sow salt in the furrows as a token that the
spot will be accursed forever and ever by Mahatara.”
The cries of the multitude now became deafening.
As soon as Johannes saw another opportunity of being listened to, he continued: “Attend!
All the men will be killed and strung up like animals; the old women and children
will be sold as slaves, and the maidens and young married women will be divided amongst
the assailants!”
Their rage became unbounded, and the wild band would have sped outside and put the
bearer of this fatal letter to the most horrible martyrdom, but for the timely intervention
of Johannes and his companions. They placed themselves at the gate of the kotta and
after much trouble succeeded in convincing the enraged people of the innocence of
the messenger who was wholly ignorant of the contents of the document.
“No, friends!” Johannes exclaimed, “we must not answer this threat with a murder.
But it will be wise to show that we are no cowards.”
“I will go to the Commander myself!” Amai Kotong cried, “and explain that I cannot
possibly give up a member of my
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family; such a course being quite against our moral teachings.”
“No,” Johannes said. “You would not be proof against the honeyed language of a paleface.
Besides, they will keep you a prisoner if you don’t submit.”
“But what am I to do?”
“See here?”
And at the same time he tore the letter into a thousand pieces, collected them in
a pisang leaf and tied them up into a parcel.
“That is the way to return the letter to the Commander!” he exclaimed victoriously.
A loud cry of satisfaction was the answer, proving again that whoever has tact, may
lead any assemblage as he wishes.
A few moments afterwards he placed the parcel into the messenger’s hand, with command
to deliver it to the Commander, at the same time advising him never to return to the
kotta with similar messages unless he wished to be cut to pieces. The frightened native
accepted the parcel and hurried away from such dangerous quarters as fast as his feet
would carry him.
In the meantime the two Dayak chiefs were seated with the Colonel on the trunk of
a tree under a shed made of branches and leaves, and were waiting for the return of
their messenger. The Colonel seemed very impatient; he stamped with his feet, drummed
with his fingers on the sheath of his sword, and distinctly showed that he had not
yet acquired the Eastern reserve so natural to his companions. At last he said:
“He is a long while coming, is he not?”
“It certainly is not far from here,” Tomonggong Nikodemus
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answered, “but your honor must not forget how cautious our messengers have to be.”
“But do you really fancy this letter will lead to the result you expected?”
“Yes, sir! The inhabitants of the kotta will see no danger in admitting the three
of us unarmed inside their walls, and once there, we will find no difficulty in persuading
Amai Kotong to deliver up the Europeans. The Chief will never risk the lives and property
of the whole of his tribe, in order to protect four deserters.”
“And yet their influence seems considerable, judging by our reception,” was the bitter
reply of the officer.
“I must own that it looks very suspicious; but who knows what tale they have told
those ignorant upper countrymen?”
“But will Amai Kotong be able to read the letter?”
“No, sir, he cannot read himself; but undoubtedly some one will be found inside the
kotta capable of deciphering it.”
“Did you know that the kotta was so heavily armed?”
“So heavily armed?” the Tomonggong asked in surprise.
“Certainly; I have just now observed through my glasses that the battery carries six
pieces of cannon, while, when I was here last year, as you must remember, no sign
of a gun could be discerned.”
“I certainly do remember it; but you seem to forget the guns of Kwala Hiang, which
the deserters must have carried away with them.”
“But at Kwala Hiang there were only two guns, while here I can count at least six.”
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“If such is the case, I am at a loss to find an explanation,” Nikodemus answered with
a sigh. “And yet I do not believe that the intentions of kotta Djangkan, armed as
it appears to be, are hostile towards the Dutch Government, or we should have heard
of it before now. Such proceedings do not remain a secret in the Dayak country. These
pieces must have been conjured hither, unless the Commander is mistaken.”
“You doubt whether I have seen rightly,” was the passionate reply of the Colonel.
“I have even seen more than these guns. The principal passages leading to the kotta
are planted with spikes and rendered impassable by pits, so that an assault is most
difficult. All this has taken time to accomplish and I very much fear that I have
no reason to be satisfied with some of my younger brothers. Speaking in the mildest
terms, they have been opposing their elder brother.”
Both Tomonggongs remained speechless for a few minutes, their emotion being distinctly
visible. The face of old Nikodemus displayed a feeling of grief and pain, while that
of the other was drawn into angry wrinkles, his eyes rolling wildly and betraying
the fearful passion raging in his bosom.
“It is a great untruth!” he screamed, jumping up as if electrified. Nikodemus, however,
took him by the hand, compelling him to resume his seat.
The Colonel witnessed this scene, which lasted for a few seconds only, with some surprise.
He felt that he had gone too far in his remarks. Then ensued a painful silence—that
silence which is more eloquent among Eastern tribes than the most violent utterance.
At last Nikodemus spoke:
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“The words spoken just now,” he said, with a deeply affected voice, “were painful,
but I am convinced they did not come from the heart. But the Colonel forgets the deserters.
I have not the least doubt but that they have found a refuge at kotta Djangkan. How
they have succeeded in gaining the confidence of the people is a mystery to me. But
everything has taken place through their influence and it is they who have supervised
these operations.”
The Colonel reflected for a few minutes.
“Yes, they are brave boys,” he muttered inaudibly, “capable of anything. Ah! I have
not caught them yet.”
And turning to both chiefs he said, cordially offering them his hand, “My younger
brothers, you may be right. Pardon the anger I just now displayed; but my heart was
bitter. At that moment I thought of the blood already spilled and yet to be spilled
in consequence of this dispute with kotta Djangkan.”
Both Tomonggongs bowed their heads and cordially pressed the offered hand. The Dayak
is never vindictive, and soon forgets and forgives if only met half way.
They were still consulting together when the return of the messenger was reported.
They all arose, showing the greatest excitement. The messenger respectfully handed
his message to the Colonel, saying:
“This is for you, sir.”
The Colonel took the parcel, anxiously undid the string, opened the pisang leaf and
turned deathly pale when he saw the torn pieces of paper which he recognized but too
well.
“And what message did you bring with you?” he asked.
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“Nothing but this: that whenever I dared to bring similar letters they would cut me
to pieces. On hearing that I ran away as fast as I could.”
“Who spoke to you?”
“A tall Dayak whom I did not recognize.”
“Have you seen any palefaces?”
“Not one, sir!”
“Did you speak to Amai Kotong?” Tomonggong Nikodemus asked.
“No, I was not admitted inside the kotta.”
“And to whom did you deliver the letter?”
“To Dalim, who accompanied by the Dayak came outside to hear what I wanted.”
The Tomonggongs and the Colonel hereupon exchanged a glance.
“Then you did see Dalim?”
“Yes, sir!”
“And you spoke to him?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Why did you give the letter to him?” Nikodemus asked, “after I had instructed you
to give it to nobody else but Amai Kotong?”
“I did not wish to act in opposition to your orders, but Dalim told me that I might
return whence I came, that I would not be admitted inside the kotta, nor could I see
Amai Kotong. I thereupon handed him the letter, hoping that the kotta Chief might
come to me after reading it, instead of which that tall blackguard reappeared and
frightened me terribly.”
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“So you did not see anything?”
“No, sir! nothing; but after I had given your letter I heard somebody reading out
aloud. Then came loud and horrible cries from inside the kotta. I also heard threats
against you, against the Resident, against the Government, as well as against myself
and was on the point of running away. After the cries had somewhat subsided, however,
the tall one handed me this parcel with instructions to give it to you.”
The Colonel exchanged looks of disappointment with the Tomonggongs. The messenger
at a given signal withdrew.
“The affair has not improved,” the Colonel said. “Are not you of the same opinion?”
Both Tomonggongs nodded affirmatively.
“Can Dalim read?”
“No, sir!” was the answer of Nikodemus.
“It is quite clear that Amai Kotong has not been informed of the contents of the letter,
and that they have read something else to him and the inhabitants of the kotta. Nevertheless
we dare not hesitate. The situation becomes more grave with each moment. Is such your
opinion also?”
“Yes, sir!” both Tomonggongs replied.
“I then propose to surprise the kotta to-night.”
“Only listen to me once more, sir!” Tomonggong Nikodemus said quietly. “After the
fight of this afternoon we must not dream of leading our Dayaks against the kotta.
It will take several days to remove the impression of defeat, and I therefore earnestly
implore you to postpone the attack. Besides, its chances of success will be very poor
indeed with this clear
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moonlight, and it will certainly entail considerable loss of life.”
“But what then, Tomonggong?” asked the Colonel.
The old Chief did not reply at once. He reflected, sighed, and placing his hand on
the shoulder of the Colonel, said:
“Listen! I will go!”
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