Malay sketches
Swettenham, Frank Athelstane, Sir, 1850-1946
Bij»ir-'W7|gr< ^ •*^^Mm^mmm^mMil*i\ij;^ 'IAIN LP9-Q1 OF U.B.C. LIBRARY IT! I I I Twn LI»»ARY AMWRrCA?* COUNCIL INSTITUTE > P FACIP f •>iLATl€MW I EAIW nm STHE^T NEW Yr»RK. 32, N. V. PROBSTHAIN I Bnoksallsr THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA MALAY SKETCHES BY THE SAME AUTHOR UNADDRESSED LETTERS Crown 8vo, 6s. Third Edition "Deep gratitude is due to Sir Frank for giving these letters to the world . . . the lazy descriptions of Eastern life, the musings on great scenes, the stories, and the utterances of social wisdom are all delightful, and add body to a book remarkable for a rare delicacy and charm." — The AthencBum. "His narrative style is admirable, and his episodes are always interesting. One could read for many hours of the clever mongoose and tigers and croco- diles. . . . Sir Frank Swettenham has a pretty humour. . . . The style in which these 'Unaddressed Letters' is written is excellent." — The Pall Mall Gazette. THE REAL MALAY PEN PICTURES Crown 8vo, 6s. "No pen except that of Mr. Conrad has drawn the Malay character so faithfully or so graphically. . .. It is a combination that is very alluring, and we confess to finding Sir Frank Swettenham's book of Malay sketches most fascinating reading. " — The Pall Mall Gazette. "Sir Frank Swettenham understands perhaps better than any other roving Englishman ' The Real Malay.' " — The Morning Post. FRANK ATHELSTANE SWETTENHAM JOHN LANE : THE BODLEY HEAD LONDON AND NEW YORK MDCCCCIII *^ 3 i$ * 22^^^ A THIRD EDITION Printed by Ballantynk Hanson & Co. London & Edinburgh content: ke:; INTRODUCTION. I, THE REAL MALAY II. THE TIGER III. A FISHING PICNIC IV. THE MURDER OF THE HAW] V. MENG-GfiLUNCHOR VI, iMOK VII. THE j6GET VIII. THE STORY OF MAT ARIS IX. LiTAH X. THE ETERNAL FEMININE XL IN THE NOON OF NIGHT XII. VAN HAGEN AND CAVALIERO XIII. THE PASSING OF PfiNGLIMA PRANG SfiMAUN XIV. bSr-hantu XV. THE king's way ..... XVI. A MALAY ROMANCE ... XVII. MALAY SUPERSTITIONS .... XVIII. WITH A CASTING-NET XIX. JAMES WHEELER WOODFORD BIRCH. XX. A PERSONAL INCIDENT .... XXI. NAKODAH ORLONG XXII. EVENING I 12 19 25 31 38 44 53 64 83 92 103 112 147 161 179 192 211 227 24S 270 281 Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 witii funding from University of Britisii Columbia Library http://www.archive.org/details/malaysketchesOOswet PREFACE ' I ""HIS is not a book of travels, nor is it, in even "*■ the smallest sense, the record of a traveller's experiences in a foreign land. It is a series of sketches of Malay scenery and Malay character drawn by one who has spent the best part of his life in the scenes and amongst the people described. These pages contain no statistics, no history, no geography, no science, real or spurious, no politics, no moralising, no prophecy, — only an attempt to awaken an interest in an almost undescribed but deeply interesting people, the dwellers in one of the most beautiful and least known countries in the East. The traveller will come in time, and he will publish his experiences of Malaya and the Malays ; but while he may look upon the country with a vii PREFACE higher appreciation and paint its features with a more artistic touch, he will see few of those characteristics of the people, none of that inner life which, I make bold to say, is here faithfully por- trayed. FRANK SWETTENHAM. The Residency, Perak, 28 March 1895, vm " Quel est done ce pays, disaient- iU I'un a I'autre, inconnu a tout le reste de la terre, et ou toute la na- ture est d'une espece si dIfFerente de la notre?" Voltaire T MAGINE yourself transported to a land of eternal "*■ summer, to that Golden Peninsula, 'twixt Hin- dustan and Far Cathay, from whence the early navigators brought back such wondrous stories of adventure. A land where Nature is at her best and richest : where plants and animals, beasts of the forest, birds of the air, and every living thing seem yet inspired with a feverish desire for growth and reproduction, as though they were still in the dawn of Creation. And Man? Yes, he is here. Forgotten by the world, passed by in the race for civilisation, here he has remained ix INTRODUCTION amongst his own forests, by the banks of his well- loved streams, unseeking and unsought. Whence he came none know and few care, but this is the land that has given to, or taken from, him the name of a Race that has spread over a wider area than any other Eastern people. Malaya, land of the pirate and the amok, your secrets have been well guarded, but the enemy has at last passed your gate, and soon the irresistible Juggernaut of Progress will have penetrated to your remotest fastness, slain your beasts, cut down your forests, "civilised" your people, clothed them in strange garments, and stamped them with the seal of a higher morality. That time of regeneration will come rapidly, but for the moment the Malay of the Peninsula is as he has been these hundreds of years. Education and contact with Western people must produce the inevitable result. Isolated native races whose numbers are few must disappear or conform to the views of a stronger will and a higher intelligence. The Malays of the Peninsula will not disappear, INTRODUCTION but they will change, and the process of " awaken- ing " has in places already begun. It might be rash to speculate on the gain which the future has in store for this people, but it is hardly likely to make them more personally inter- esting to the observer. This is the moment of transition, and these are sketches of the Malay as he is. Jetons-nous dans cette petite barque, laissons-nous aller au courant : une riviere mene toujours a quelque endroit habite ; si nous ne trouvons pas des choscs agreables, nous trouverons du moins des choses nouvelles " ' Allone,' dit Candida, ' recommandons-nous a la Providence ' " VOLTAIRK NOTE ON THE COVER DESIGN r'HE colours used on the cover of this hook are those recognised as " Royal" colours in one or other of the Malay States. Throughout the Peninsula yellow is the special colour worn or used by those oj %aja birth, ^y the ancient Malay sumptuary latas the lotoer classes were not allowed to wear yellow garmentSy nor to use this colour in the decoration or furniture of their houses. These laws are no longer rigidly observed, but in most Malay States the use of yellow fabrics is confined to the %aja class. It is a universal practice to put letters addressed to Malay rulers {when they are of %jija birth) into covers of yellow cotton cloth or yellow satin, while those addressed to %ajas who have no official position, or to chiefs of importance but not of%aja birth, are stitched into covers of white cotton. In some of the States the royal flag is yellow, in others it is white or black, while in several of the more important States NOTE ON THE COVER DESIGN of Sumatra {as for instance in t/(cheen)y black garments are the special privilege of the %aja class. In Terak the three highest native authorities in the State, the Sultan, his heir {styled *^Ja Muda), and his Waxir {the %J^ja Bendahara)^ fy fl^g^ of white, yellow, and black respeictively, and these three colours united have, for the last twenty years, been adopted as the Perak State fag. The three daggers on the cover are good types of the Malay " kris," the favourite national weapon. The originals of these particular specimens are in the Perak museum and were photographed for this design. F. J. S. Xmai day, l8gj. MALAY SKETCHES THE REAL MALAY He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat Byron, Don yuan TO begin to understand the Malay you must live in his country, speak his language, respect his faith, be interested in his interests, humour his prejudices, sympathise with and help him in trouble, and share his pleasures and possibly his risks. Only thus can you hope to win his confidence. Only through that confidence can you hope to under- stand the inner man, and this knowledge can there- fore only come to those who have the opportunity and use it. So far the means of studying Malays in their own country (where alone they are seen in their true MALAY SKETCHES character) have fallen to few Europeans, and a very small proportion of them have shown an inclination to get to the hearts of the people. There are a hundred thousand Malays in Perak and some more in other parts of the Peninsula ; and the white man, whose interest in the race is strong enough, may not only win confidence but the devotion that is ready to give life itself in the cause of friendship. The Scripture says : "There is no greater thing than this," and in the end of the nineteenth century that is a form of friendship all too rare. Fortunately this is a thing you cannot buy, but to gain it is worth some effort. The real Malay is a short, thick-set, well-built man, with straight black hair, a dark brown com- plexion, thick nose and lips, and bright intelligent eyes. His disposition is generally kindly, his manners are polite and easy. Never cringing, he is reserved with strangers and suspicious, though he does not show it. He is courageous and trust- worthy in the discharge of an undertaking ; but he is extravagant, fond of borrowing money, and very slow in repaying it. He is a good talker, speaks in parables, quotes proverbs and wise saws, has a strong sense of humour, and is very fond of a good joke. He takes an interest in the affairs of his neighbours 2 THE REAL MALAY and is consequently a gossip. He is a Muhammadan and a fatalist; but he is also very superstitious. He never drinks intoxicants, he is rarely an opium- smoker. But he is fond of gambling, cock-fighting, and kindred sports. He is by nature a sportsman, catches and tames elephants, is a skilful fisherman, and thoroughly at home in a boat. Above all things, he is conservative to a degree, is proud and fond of his country and his people, venerates his ancient customs and traditions, fears his Rajas, and has a proper respect for constituted authority — while he looks askance on all innovations, and will resist their sudden introduction. But if he has time to examine them carefully, and they are not thrust upon him, he is willing to be convinced of their advantage. At the same time he is a good imitative learner, and, when he has energy and ambition enough for the task, makes a good mechanic. He is, however, lazy to a degree, is without method or order of any kind, knows no regularity even in the hours of his meals, and considers time as of no im- portance. His house is untidy, even dirty, but he bathes twice a day, and is very fond of personal adornment in the shape of smart clothes. A Malay is intolerant of insult or slight ; it is something that to him should be wiped out in 3 MALAY SKETCHES blood. He will brood over a real or fancied stain on his honour until he is possessed by the desire for revenge. If he cannot wreak it on the offender, he w-ill strike out at the first human being that comes in his way, male or female, old or young. It is this state of blind fury, this vision of blood, that produces the amok. The Malay has often been called treacherous. I question whether he deserves the reproach more than other men. He is courteous and expects courtesy in return, and he understands only one method of avenging personal insults. The spirit of the clan is also strong in him. He acknowledges the necessity of carrying out, even blindly, the orders of his hereditary chief, while he will protect his own relatives at all costs and make their quarrel his own. The giving of gifts by Raja to subject, or subject to ruler, is a custom now falling into desuetude, but it still prevails on the occasion of the accession of a Raja, the appointment of high officers, a marriage, a circumcision, ear-piercing, or similar ceremony. As with other Eastern people, hospitality is to the Malay a sacred duty fulfilled by high and low, rich and poor alike. Though the Malay is an Islam by profession, and would suffer crucifixion sooner than deny his faith, 4 THE REAL MALAY he is not a bigot ; indeed, his tolerance compares favourably with that of the professing Christian, and, when he thinks of these matters at all, he believes that the absence of hypocrisy is the begin- ning of religion. He has a sublime faith in God, the immortality of the soul, a heaven of ecstatic earthly delights, and a hell of punishments, which every individual is so confident will not be his own portion that the idea of its existence presents no terrors. Christian missionaries of all denominations have apparently abandoned the hope of his conversion. In his youth, the Malay boy is often beautiful, a thing of wonderful eyes, eyelashes, and eyebrows, with a far-away expression of sadness and solemnity, as though he had left some better place for a com- pulsory exile on earth. Those eyes, which are extraordinarily large and clear, seem filled with a pained wonder at all they see here, and they give the impression of a constant effort to open ever wider and wider in search of something they never find. Unlike the child of Japan, this cherub never looks as if his nurse had forgotten to wipe his nose. He is treated with elaborate respect, sleeps when he wishes, and sits up till any hour of the night if he so desires, eats S MALAY SKETCHES when he is hungry, has no toys, is never whipped, and hardly ever cries. Until he is fifteen or sixteen, this atmosphere of a better world remains about him. He is often studious even, and duly learns to read the Koran in a language he does not understand. Then, well then, from sixteen to twenty-five or later he is to be avoided. He takes his pleasure, sows his wild oats like youths of a higher civilisa- tion, is extravagant, open-handed, gambles, gets into debt, runs away with his neighbour's wife, and generally asserts himself. Then follows a period when he either adopts this path and pursues it, or, more commonly, he weans himself gradually from an indulgence that has not altogether realized his expectation, and if, under the advice of older men, he seeks and obtains a position of credit and use- fulness in society from which he begins at last to earn some profit, he will, from the age of forty, probably develop into an intelligent man of miserly and rather grasping habits with some one little pet indulgence of no very expensive kind. The Malay girl-child is not usually so attractive in appearance as the boy, and less consideration is shown to her. She runs wild till the time comes for investing her in a garment, that is to say when THE REAL MALAY she is about five years old. From then, she is taught to help in the house and kitchen, to sew, to read and write, perhaps to work in the padi field, but she is kept out of the way of all strange men- kind. When fifteen or sixteen, she is often almost interesting ; very shy, very fond of pretty clothes and ornaments, not uncommonly much fairer in complexion than the Malay man, witli small hands and feet, a happy smiling face, good teeth, and wonderful eyes and eyebrows — the eyes of the little Malay boy. The Malay girl is proud of a wealth of straight, black hair, of a spotless olive com- plexion, of the arch of her brow — " like a one-day- old moon " — of the curl of her eyelashes, and of the dimples in cheek or chin. Unmarried girls are taught to avoid all men except those nearly related to them. Until mar- riage, it is considered unmaidenly for them to raise their eyes or take any part or interest in their surroundings when men are present. This leads to an affectation of modesty which, however over- strained, deceives nobody. After marriage, a woman gets a considerable apiount of freedom which she naturally values. In Perak a man, who tries to shut his womenkind up and prevent their intercourse with others and a 7 MALAY SKETCHES participation in the fetes and pleasures of Malay society, is looked upon as a jealous, ill-conditioned person. Malays are extremaly particular about questions of rank and birth, especially when it comes to marriage, and mesalliances, as understood in the West, are with them very rare. The general characteristics of Malay women, especially those of gentle birth, are powers of intelligent conversation, quickness in repartee, a strong sense of humour and an instant appreciation of the real meaning of those hidden sayings which are hardly ever absent from their conversation. They are fond of reading such literature as their language offers, and they use uncommon words and expressions, the meanings of which are hardly known to men. For the telling of secrets, they have several modes of speech not understanded of the people. They are generally amiable in disposition, mildly — sometimes fiercely — jealous, often extravagant and, up to about the age of forty, evince an increasing fondness for jewellery and smart clothes. In these latter days they are developing a pretty taste for horses, carriages, and whatever conduces to luxury and display, though, in their houses, there 8 THE REAL MALAY are still a rugged simplicity and untidiness, absolutely devoid of all sense of order. A Malay is allowed by law to have as many as four wives, to divorce them, and replace them. If he is well off and can afford so much luxury, he usually takes advantage of the power to marry more than one wife, to divorce and secure successors; but he seldom undertakes the responsibility of four wives at one time. The woman on her part can, and often does, obtain a divorce from her husband. Written conditions of marriage, " settlements " of a kind, are common with people in the upper classes, and the law provides for the custody of children, division of property, and so on. The ancient maiden lady is an unknown quantity, so is the Malay public woman ; and, as there is no society bugbear, the people lead lives that are almost natural. There are no drunken husbands, no hob- nail boots, and no screaming viragoes — because a word would get rid of them. All forms of mad- ness, mania, and brain-softening are extremely rare. The Malay has ideas on the subject of marriage, ideas born of his infinite experience. He has even soared into regions of matrimonial philosophy, and returned with such crumbs of lore as never fall to the poor monogamist. 9 MALAY SKETCHES I am not going to give away the secrets of the Ufe behind the curtain ; if I wished to do so I might trip over difficulties of expression ; but in spite of Lhe Malay's reputation for bloodthirstiness, in spite of (or because of, whichever you please) the fact that he is impregnated with the doctrines of Islam, in spite of his sensitive honour and his proneness to revenge, and in spite of his desire to keep his own women (when young and attractive) away from the prying eyes of other men, he yet holds this uncommon faith, that if he has set his affections on a woman, and for any reason he is unable at once to make her his own, he cares not to how many others she allies herself provided she becomes his before time has robbed her of her physical attractions. His reason is this. He says (certainly not to a stranger, rarely even to his Malay friends, but to himself) " if, after all this experience, she likes me best, I have no fear that she will wish to go further afield. All Malay girls marry before they are twenty, and the woman who has only known one husband, however attractive he may be, will come sooner or later to the conviction that life with another promises new and delightful experiences not found in the society of the first man to whom lO THE REAL MALAY destiny and her relatives have chosen to unite her. Thus some fool persuades her that in his worship and passion she will find the World's Desire, and it is only after perhaps a long and varied experience that she realizes that, having started for a voyage on the ocean, she finds herself seated at the bottom of a dry well." It is possible that thus she becomes acquainted with truth. II II THE TIGER Yon golden terror, barred with ebon stripes Low-crouching horror, with the cruel fangs Waiting in deathly stillness for thy spring Anon. SOME idea of what Malays are in their own country may best be conveyed by taking the reader in imagination through some scenes of their daily life. The tiger, for instance, is seldom delibe- rately sought ; if he kills a buffalo a spring gun is set to shoot him when he returns for his afternoon meal, but sometimes the tiger comes about a village, and it is necessary to get rid of so dangerous a visitor. Let me try and put the scene before you. But how describe an Eastern dawn ? Sight alone will give a true impression of its strange beauty. Out of darkness and stillness, the transi- 12 THE TIGER tion to light — intense brilliant light — and the sounds of awakened life, is rapid and complete, a short half hour or less turning night into tropical day. The first indication of dawn is a grey haze, then the clouds clothing the Western hills are shot with pale yellow and in a few minutes turn to gold, while Eastern ranges are still in darkness. The light spreads to the Western slopes, moves rapidly across the valleys, and suddenly the sun, a great ball of fire, appears above the Eastern hills. The fogs, which have risen from the rivers and marshes and covered the land, as with a pall, rise like smoke and disappear, and the whole face of nature is flooded with light, the valleys and slopes of the Eastern ranges being the last to feel the influence of the risen sun. That grey half-light which precedes dawn is the signal for Malays to be stirring. The doors are opened, and, only half awake and shivering in the slight breeze made by the rising fog, they leave their houses and make for the nearest stream, there to bathe and fetch fresh water for the day's use. A woman dressed in the sarong, a plaid skirt of silk or cotton, and a jacket, walks rapidly to the river, carrying a long bamboo and some gourds, which, after her bath, she fills, and begins to walk '3 MALAY SKETCHES home through the wealth of vegetation that clothes the whole face of the country. She follows a narrow path up from the bed of the clear stream, the jungle trees and orchards, the long rank grasses and tangled creepers almost hiding the path. Suddenly she stops spellbound, her knees give way under her, the vessels drop from her nerveless hands, and a speech- less fear turns her blood to water ; for there, in front of her, is a great black and yellow head with cruel yellow eyes, and a half-open mouth showing a red tongue and long white teeth. The shoulders and fore feet of the tiger stand clear of the thick foliage, and a hoarse low roar of surprise and anger comes from the open mouth. An exceeding great fear chains the terrified woman to the spot, and the tiger, thus faced, sulkily and with more hoarse grumbling, slowly draws back into the jungle and disappears. Then the instinct of self-preservation returns to the woman, and, with knees still weak and a cold hand on her heart, she stumbles, with what speed she may, back to the river, down the bank, and to the friendly shelter of the nearest dwelling. It takes little time to tell the story, and the men of the house, armed with spears and krises and an old rusty gun, quickly spread the news throughout 14 THE TIGER the kampong, as each cluster of huts and orchards is called. Every one arms himself with such weapons as he possesses, the boys of sixteen or seventeen chmb into trees, from which they hope to see and be able to report the movements of the beast. The men, marshalled by the ka-tua kampong, the village chief, make their plans for surrounding the spot where the tiger was seen, and word is sent by messenger to the nearest police- station and European officer. Whilst all this is taking place, the tiger, probably conscious that too many people are about, leaves his lair and stealthily creeps along a path which will lead him far from habitations. But, as he does so, he passes under a tree where sits one of the young watchmen, and the boy, seizing his opportunity, drops a heavy spear on the tiger as he passes, and gives him a serious wound. The beast, with a roar of pain, leaps into the jungle, carrying the spear with him ; and, after what he considers a safe interval, the boy climbs down, gets back to the circle of watchers, and reports what has occurred. For a long time, there is silence, no one caring to go in and seek a wounded tiger — but this monotony is broken rudely and suddenly by a shot on the out- skirts of the wide surrounding ring of beaters where 15 MALAY SKETCHES a young Malay has been keeping guard over a jungle track. Instantly the nearest rush to the spot only to find the boy badly wounded, after firing a shot that struck the tiger but did not pre- vent him reaching and pulling down the youth who fired it. Hardly has a party carried the wounded man to shelter, than news arrives that, in trying to break the ring at another point, the tiger has sprung upon the point of a spear held in rest by a kneeling Malay, and, the spear, passing completely through the beast's body, the tiger has come down on the man's back and killed him. The old men say it is because, regardless of the wisdom of their ancestors, fools now face a tiger with spears unguarded, whereas in the olden time it was always the custom to tie a crosspiece of wood where blade joins shaft to pre- vent the tiger "running up the spear" and killing his opponent. The game is getting serious now and the tiger has retired to growl and roar in a thick isolated copse of bushes and tangled undergrowth from which it seems impossible to draw him, and where it would be madness to seek him. By this time, all the principal people in the neigh- bourhood have been collected. The copse is sur- i6 THE TIGER rounded and two elephants are ridden at the cover, in the hope of driving the wounded tiger from his shelter. A vain hope, for, when the huge beasts get inconveniently near to him, the tiger, with a great roar, springs on to the shoulder of the nearest elephant and brings him to his knees. The terrified occupants of the howdah are thus deposited on the ground, but lose no time in picking themselves up and getting away. The elephant with a scream of terror whirls round, throwing off the tiger with a broken tooth, and, accompanied by his fellow, rushes from the place and will not be stopped till several miles have been covered and the river is between them and their enemy. Severe maladies want desperate and heroic remedies. After a short consultation, a young Malay chief and several of his friends, armed only with spears, express their determination to seek the tiger where he lies. They immediately put the plan into execution. Shoulder to shoulder and with spears in rest, they advance to the copse. They have not long to wait in doubt for the wounded and enraged beast, with open mouth and eyes blazing fell purpose, charges straight at them. There is the shock of flesh against steel, an awful snarling and straining of muscles and the already badly wounded T7 B MALAY SKETCHES tiger is pinned to the ground and dies under the thrusts of many spears. The general result of a tiger hunt, under such circumstances, is the death or serious injury of one or two of the pursuers. 18 Ill A FISHING PICNIC I have given you lands to hunt in, I have given you streams to fish in, Filled the river full of fishes LoNGfKLLOW NOW come to a Malay picnic. Again, it is early morning, the guests have been invited overnight and warned to come on their elephants and bring " rice and salt." By the time the sun is well up there are fifty or sixty people (of whom about half are women), mounted on twelve or fifteen elephants, and some boys and followers are prepared to walk. The word is given to make for a great limestone hill rising abruptly out of the plain, for, close round the foot of this rock, eating its way into the unexplored depths of subaqueous caves, flows a clear mountain-bred stream, and, in the silent pools which lie under the shadow of the cliff, are the fish 19 MALAY SKETCHES which with the rice and salt, will make the coming feast. The road lies through six or seven miles of open country and virgin forest, and it is 9 or 10 A.M. before the river is reached, the elephants hobbled, and the men of the party ready for business. In days gone by, the method would have been to tuba the stream above a pool, but this poisoning of the water affects the river for miles, and dynamite which is not nearly so destructive is preferred. The plan is to select a large and deep pool round which the men stand ready to spring in, while the women make a cordon across the shallow at its lower end, ready to catch the fish that escape the hands of the swimmers. Two cartridges of dynamite with a de- tonator and a piece of slow match are tied to a stone and thrown into the deepest part of the pool, there is an explosion sending up a great column of water, and immediately the dead fish come to the surface and begin to float down stream. Twenty men spring into the pool, and with shouts and laughter struggle for the slippery fish ; those which elude the grasp of the swimmers are caught by the women. It will then be probably discovered that no very big fish have been taken ; and, as it is certain that some 20 A FISHING PICNIC at least should be there, the boldest and best divers will search the bottom of the pool and even look into the water-filled caves of the rock that there rises sheer out of the stream. Success rewards this ejBTort, and, from the bed of the pool, some sixteen or eighteen feet deep, the divers bring up two at a time, great silvery fish weighing ten to fifteen pounds each. There is much joy over the capture of these klah and tengas, the best kinds of fresh water fish known here, and, if the total take is not a large one, the operation will be repeated in another and yet another pool, until a sufticient quantity of fish has been secured and every one is tired of the water. There is a general change of wet garments for dry ones, no difficult matter, while long before this fires have been made on the bank, rice is boiling, fish are roasting in split sticks, grilling, frying, and the hungry company is settling itself in groups ready for the meal. It is a matter of honour that no plates should be used, so every one has a piece of fresh green plantain leaf to hold his rice and salt and fish, while nature supphes the forks and spoons. Whether it is the exercise, the excitement, or the coldness of the two hours' bath, that is most re- sponsible for the keen appetites is not worth MALAY SKETCHES inqiiirins:, but thorough justice is done to the food ; and if you, reader, should ever be fortunate enough to take part in one of these picnics, you will declare that you never before realised how delicious a meal can be made of such simple ingredients. Some one has smuggled in a few condiments and they add largely to the success of the Malay bouille-abaisse, but pepple affect not to know they are there, and you go away assured that rice and salt did it all. That is part of the game. And now it is time to return, the sun has long passed the meridian, and there is a mile or two of forest before getting into the open country. The timid amongst the ladies feign alarm (Malays are sensible people who take only the young to picnics, and leave the old to mind the houses), and a desire to get away at once, bur there are others who know what is in store for them. The elephants are brought up and each pannier is found to be loaded with jungle fruit, large and small, ripe and unripe, hard and soft, but generally hard as stones. Every one knows the meaning of this and, as the elephants kneel down to take their riders, you may observe that usually two men sit in front, two women behind, and the latter are anxious about their umbrellas and show a tendency to open A FISHING PICNIC them here where, in the gloom of the forest, they are not needed. The first two or three elephants move off quickly, and, having turned a corner in the path, disappear. It is necessary to proceed in Indian file, and as the next elephant comes to this corner he and his company are assailed by a perfect shower of missiles (the jungle fruit) from the riders of the first section of elephants who are slily waiting here to surprise those behind. The attack is returned with interest and the battle wages hot and furious. The leaders of the rear column try to force their way past those who dispute the path with them, and either succeed or put the enemy to flight only to find a succession of ambuscades laid for them, each resulting in a deadly struggle, and so, throughout the length of the forest, the more venturesome pushing their way to the front or taking up an independent line and making enemies of all comers, until, at last, the whole party clears the jungle and, taking open order, a succession of wild charges soon gets every one into the fray and, the supply of am- munition having run out, there is nothing left but to count the damage done. It is principally in broken umbrellas which have been used as shields, but some garments are stained, and there may be a few bruises treated with much 2i MALAY SKETCHES good humour, and, by the time the party has straightened its dishevelledness, it is found that miles of otherwise tedious journey have been passed and every one is home ere the lengthening shadows suddenly contract and tell the sun has set. 24 IV THE MURDER OF THE HAWKER It is a damned and bloody work, The graceless action of a heavy hand King John ONE afternoon, in 1892, a foreign Malay named Lenggang, who made a living by hawking in a boat on the Perak River, left Bota with his usual cargo and a hundred dollars which his cousin, the son of the Penghulu, had been keeping for him. He was alone in the boat and dropped down stream, saying he would call at some of the villages that line at intervals the banks of the river. The next day this man's dead body, lying partly under a mosquito curtain, was discovered in the boat as it drifted past the village of Pulau Tiga. The local headman viewed it, but saw nothing to arouse his suspicions, for the boat was full of valuables and a certain amount of money, while nothing in it seemed to have been disturbed, and 25 MALAY SKETCHES there were no marks of violence on the corpse, which was duly buried. When the matter was reported, inquiries were made but they elicited nothing. Some months after the relatives of the dead man appeared at Teluk Anson, and said they had good reason to believe that he had met with foul play, indeed that he had been murdered at a place called Lambor — a few miles below Bota and above Pulau Tiga. An intelligent Malay sergeant of police proceeded to the spot, arrested a number of people, who denied all know- ledge of the affair, and took them to Teluk Anson. Arrived there, these people said they were able to give all the necessary information if that would procure their release, as they had only promised to keep their mouths shut so long as they themselves did not suffer for it. The details of the story as told in evidence are as follows, and they are very characteristic of the Malay : It appears that the hawker duly arrived in his boat at Lambor, and there tied up for the night to a stake, about twenty feet from the bank of the river. Shortly afterwards a Malay named Ngah Prang, stopped three of his acquaintances walking on the bank, asked them if they had seen the 26 THE MURDER OF THE HAWKER hawker's boat, and suggested that it would be a good thing to rob him. They said they were afraid, and some other men coming up asked one of those to whom the proposal had been made what they were talking about, and, being told, advised him to have nothing to do with the business and the party dispersed. That evening, at 8 p.m., several people heard cries of " help, help, I am being killed," from the river, and five or six men ran out of their houses down to the bank, a distance of only fifty yards, whence they saw, in the brilliant moonlight, Ngah Prang and two other men in the hawker's boat, the hawker lying flat on his back while one man had both hands at his throat, another held his wrists, and the third his feet ; but it is said that those on the bank heard a noise of rapping as though feet were kicking or hands beating quickly the deck of the boat. It only lasted for a moment and then there was silence. As those who had been roused by the cries came down the bank they called to the men in the boat, barely twenty feet away, and lighted at their work by the brilliancy of an Eastern moon, to know what they were doing ; they even addressed them by their names, but these gave no answer, and, getting 27 MALAY SKETCHES up from off the hawker, untied the boat, one taking a pole and another the rudder and disappeared down the river. The hawker did not move. He was dead. The witnesses of this tragedy appear then to have returned to their homes and slept peacefully. Several of them naively remarked that they heard the next day that the hawker had been found dead in his boat, and it appears that when one of these witnesses, on the following day, met one of the murderers, he asked him what he was doing in Lenggang's boat, and the man replied that they were robbing him, that he held the hawker by the throat, the others by the hands and feet, but that really they had got very little for their trouble. Meanwhile the three murderers told several of the eye-witnesses of the affair that, if they said anything, it would be the worse for them, and nothing particular occurred till a notice was posted in the Mosque calling upon any one who knew anything about Lenggang's death to report it to the village Headman. Then Ngah Prang, who appa- rently was the original instigator of the job, as so often happens, thought he would save himself at the expense of his friends, and actually went himself to make a report, and, meeting on the way one of the 28 THE MURDER OF TfiE HAWKER eye-witnesses going on a similar errand, he per- suaded him to give a qualified promise to help in denying Ngah Prang's complicity while convicting the others. Needless to say that, from the moment the first disclosure was made and communicated to the police, resulting in the arrest of a number of those who had actually witnessed the crime, every smallest detail was gradually brought to light, the hawker's property, even his own clothes, gradually recovered, the money stolen from him traced, and no single link left wanting in the chain of evidence strong enough to convict and hang the guilty men. That indeed was the result. I have told the story of this crime, which is devoid of sensational incident, because it will give some idea of the state of feeling in a real Malay kampong of poor labouring people far from any outside influence. The man murdered was a Malay ; the idea that he was worth something which could be obtained by the insignificant sacrifice of his life seems to have at once suggested that Providence was putting a good thing in the way of poor people, and those who were not afraid determined that the opportunity was not to be lost. The murder is discussed practically in public ; it is executed also 29 MALAY SKETCHES in public, in the presence of a feebly expostulating opposition, and then every one goes to bed. The only further concern of the community in the matter is as to how much the murderers got. For them the incident ends there, and, if any one has any qualms of conscience, they are silenced by the threats of the men who so easily throttled the hawker. It is only when inquiries are pushed, and things are made generally unpleasant for every one, that the truth is unwillingly disclosed, and the penalty paid. 