The sails of the tongkang flapped in the late morning breeze as it rounded the headland within sight of the swamps. As it came to anchor at the mouth of the river, Tuck Heng heaved a sigh of relief. Solid ground under his feet soon.
The tide had gone out, revealing a wide expanse of muddy flats, tangled tree roots and rotting vegetation along the banks. A small jetty of coconut trunks and bamboo poles bounded together by strips of rattan served as the landing place for the small sampans and other boats which came to call before going up the Perak River.
Several sampans came towards their tongkangs. Tai-kor Wong, brows furrowed and eyes squinting against the needles of sunlight bouncing off the rolling sea, barked out his orders. His Cantonese swear words and curses made Musa Talib roar with delight. The fat trader could swear as well as any Cantonese coolie.
“Are you sons of the tortoise? Faster!” he bellowed in Malay at his own boatmen. The broad sleeves of his white baju were flapping in the breeze. Like the wings of a fat gull. Tuck Heng smiled.
“Faster, faster! Are you eating wind or are you working?”
Half-scolding, half-cajoling, he spurred his boatmen to speed up the unloading and to steady their sampans in the swell of the waves.
“Steady! These Chinese miners can’t swim! Fall into the sea and they’ll sink like rocks!”
“Tuck Heng! Get into the next sampan! Keep an eye on the unloading. Look sharp, you understand?”
“I understand, Wong-fu.”
He’d almost swallowed the last word. The honorific fu, a formal term for Father, was stuck in his throat. He had yet to get used to Tai-kor Wong being his father.
“Pak Mus!” He leaned over the railing and called out to Musa Talib, who was squatting in the sampan like a fat Buddha. The boat was bobbing dizzily at the end of the rope ladder. “I’m coming down!” he shouted in heavily accented Malay.
“Come down!”
“But the sampan is moving!”
“You fall, we catch you!”
“Pak Mus! Save me ...!”
A heavy swell rose, and the rope ladder swung out to the far left so that all he saw were the waves. Musa grabbed hold of his legs.
What a relief when his sampan reached the jetty and his feet touched land! The party which came on shore included Tai-kor Wong, Chan Ah Fook, Musa Talib, some of the crew and several miners. The village headman welcomed them.
“Are the animals ready?”
“All ready to leave, Insya Allah, Pak Mus.”
More miners came on shore. Some would travel by land while several hundreds more were being transported by a flotilla of riverboats up the Perak River.
“Split into two groups. Safer. The English great lord’s army can’t be everywhere.”
“Whatever you say, Tai-kor!”
“Why you call me Tai-kor?”
“The Bandong war has sealed us in blood. So now you know you can depend on me! And I, on you!” Musa Talib gushed and spread out his arms in a broad generous gesture.
Tai-kor Wong glanced up at the bright blue sky. “Looks like it might rain in the afternoon,” he said. Then he fell silent.
What could a man say in the face of Musa’s effusive sentiments? Yet he was sure that the trader’s feelings were genuine and, despite his embarrassment, Tai-kor Wong was touched. If only the fat fool would stop babbling about their partnership-in-blood and brotherhood to everybody! He had had to bite his tongue several times during the voyage to stop himself from blurting out what he knew. Curse Lee Peng Yam! Everything that Lee Peng Yam had done in the name of White Crane honour went against his sense of justice. But he was a member of the brotherhood sworn to secrecy and must never reveal what he knew to Musa Talib. Loyalty to clan and race demanded silence, a silence which Musa had interpreted as deep sincerity. All the more fool he! Tai-kor Wong thought bitterly and wished the fat ass would shut his big mouth.
“My brother! He saved the menteri’s life but does he crow about it? So I’ve got to be the one to crow like a hen that has laid an egg!”
Musa Talib and the village headman laughed heartily.
“Coolies! All of you follow Chan Ah Fook! Except those coming with me! Ah Fook, lead these bastards and go by boat to Kinta. The other boats should arrive within the next few days.”
“Tai-kor, leave it to me. I’ll get these buffaloes moving.”
“I’m not leaving these parts till I’ve paid one last visit to Bandong.”
He paused and looked towards the wall of green beyond the river. Blood, rape and gore. The line marking the margin of existence for men was thin and fine.
“Will you be stopping in Kuala Bandong for a few days? There’s a little ... er ... little favour I’ve to ask of you.”
“Spit it out, old man!”
“It’s my woman. If you’ve the time, please find out if she and her boy are alive, and if they are, give them some money.”
“I’ll see to it that they’ve enough to live on.”
“Thank you, Tai-kor.”
“No need. Between old friends, I understand. When times are better, you’ll be able to save some money and bring out a woman from Sum Hor. Start a family.”
In Kuala Bandong, Datuk Long Mahmud was thinking of family too. Ever since the Black Flags’ attack on the day of his daughter’s marriage, he had felt vulnerable, uncertain of his hold over the Chinese miners in his valley. And to add salt to his wound, the governor had summarily allotted the Bandong mines to his attackers. It was treachery of the highest order. The white men were trying to reduce his power and break up his friendship with the White Cranes. They feared his power. He could almost smell their cunning when he was on board their ship. He cursed them and vowed never to give up control over his sweet valley.
But these days, the air in his valley was no longer as sweet as it used to be. The signing of the Pangkor Treaty had fouled the air for him. Thank Allah that his daughter and son-in-law were unharmed and safely married in Larut. With the menteri of Larut as his in-law, he’d like to see what the white men would do about their alliance. Those crocodiles had the new sultan in their jaws now. They would never be satisfied till they’d eaten him. Curse the wars! They had littered the valley with rotting flesh and bones! Such a desecration of his ancestral land by the Black Flag murderers! He swore at them. And he swore at the greedy white dogs hot at their heels. The white men were using the Black Flags to rob him! He was sure of it.
A sudden anger at the turn of events seized him. He slipped the dagger from under the folds of his sarong and with a sudden movement, swift and silent, his deadly projectile flew upwards and sliced through the stem of a durian above him. The thorny fruit fell with a thud and split open. His followers under the tree sprang away like animals from a trap. But his young children by his commoner wives rushed for the fruit and fell upon it like vultures upon a dead goat.
“That is exactly what the white men will do to us when the sultan falls,” he murmured, half to himself and half to Ibrahim.
Ibrahim watched his younger siblings scramble for the rich creamy flesh of the durian. Gone was his boyish air. His dark-brown face had grown serious and watchful since the Black Flags’ attack. His kris had tasted blood.
“Come, Ibrahim, you were about to ask me a question.”
“If it pleases my honoured Father to speak of such things to his unworthy son, my cousins and I would like to know more about this powerful white man whose name is James Wheeler Birch.”
“He’s a spy of the white governor. He’s going to turn our land upside-down.”
“Begging my Father’s pardon, my cousins and I are still puzzled. Why is he not challenged to battle then?”
The Datuk sucked in his breath. He was just as puzzled and exasperated as these young men. There was no precedent for what the new sultan had done. The word “fool” was not far from his lips whenever he thought of the new king installed by the British. But he was still a loyal chief and he could not bring himself to utter it in front of these young warriors.
“My honoured Uncle.” Rahim came forward. “How can a white man tell his royal highness what to do? It’s never happened before. Not without a great war.”
“Not in Perak.”
“True, my honoured Uncle. But it happened in Melaka,” Nazri said softly so as not to sound as though he were contradicting an elder. He was a handsome warrior who could wield a kris as well as the Datuk himself. “When the Portuguese and the Dutch came, they fought openly! They were warriors! But these Englishmen! They just sit and talk.”
“They’re cowardly traders and shopkeepers, snakes and serpents who employ scribes to steal from us! Why aren’t our chiefs fighting them?” Rahim’s eyes blazed with a dark anger.
“The chiefs have no money to buy arms and weapons. The white governor in Singapore has taken away their right to collect taxes in their own land!”
“My honoured Father, we heard also that the white men use scribes to write lies into their books and made our sultan and chiefs sign the books in Pangkor. How do we know that what’s written in their white tongue is the same as what’s written in our own language?” Ibrahim asked.
“My son, I was there on the white governor’s ship and I saw his scribe scribbling away in the corner when we talked. I too have my doubts.”
And these doubts had plagued him day and night. He had watched those white barbarians on the ship—how they’d moved like water buffaloes across the meeting room, their weight making the ship’s boards creak with each step, and how their hard leather boots had knocked against the ship’s woodwork. The barbarians had shown no courtesy. They had neither bowed nor salaamed. They did not remove their footwear when they entered the meeting room. Their arrogant blue eyes had looked straight at his royal highness as though they were his equal. During the meeting, he had sat on the floor with his fellow chiefs and had maintained a stern silence throughout. But he had not been idle. He had watched the white men wilt in the heat as the meeting wore on. Their thick heavy clothes, too warm for the tropics, grew dark stains under the armpits. Their stiff collars had choked their thick necks and they’d had to mop their brows and red faces ever so often. They could not sit still. They’d shifted restlessly like peasants as the heat got to them. But what had offended him most was the stench from their bodies. It was almost unbearable. Like milk curdling in the sun. It had taken all his willpower and good breeding not to betray by look or gesture that he had noticed anything. Their speech was utterly incomprehensible—the mouthing of low guttural sounds followed by bursts of laughter or the shaking of the head, and the restless twisting of their whiskers. Red, brown and yellow hair covered their mouths and lips. The amount of hair on the faces of these white men had amazed him. Their beards and moustaches concealed their faces and intentions. But their blue and grey eyes betrayed them. Now that he had seen the white men up close, he knew them to be cunning creatures. One of them, called Swettenham, had even mastered the Malay tongue and had spoken to them sweetly on behalf of the white governor.
“Learn the white man’s tongue as soon as you can.” He turned suddenly to Ibrahim.
But Ibrahim looked at him as if he had been asked to do the impossible.
“The meeting at Pangkor was not a meeting among equals. None of us was asked to speak. Our silence was so loud, it should’ve told the white men something. But they’re proud in their hearts. They can only hear if you make a noise.” A fierce pride filled his heart when he said, “The white barbarians must be taught the laws and customs of our race and our land.”
“Begging my Uncle’s pardon, your unworthy nephew has something else to ask you.”
“What is it, Nazri?”
“We heard that his royal highness and all the chiefs signed the Pangkor Treaty on board the governor’s ship. Is that true, Uncle?”
“May His Most Compassionate and Merciful forgive us! We the chiefs signed away our god-given rights. We were the accursed coconut shells. Turned up, we fill with water; turned down, we fill with earth. What could we have done? Fight their cannons with our spears? So we signed the papers!” He groaned. “We’re going to be paid like servants from now on!”
His warriors could hardly believe their ears.
“My honoured Father! Musa Talib and Panglima Sangor are approaching us.”
The Datuk turned and greeted Panglima Sangor, a chief who lived near the official residence of James Birch.
“How are things with you? What’s the news?”
“The news is bleak, my honoured friend.” Panglima Sangor shook his grey head. “The times have changed.”
“And my lords, permit this unworthy slave to add, it’s a sad day for us when the white man’s advice must be asked.”
“Asked and acted upon on all matters except those touching Malay religion and custom.”
“But Pak Mus, hasn’t the Resident meddled with our tradition and custom already? He took away our chiefs’ rights!” Nazri looked at his elders, seeking an answer and assurance.
But the Datuk said nothing.
“And this Inche Birch also interferes with our custom of keeping slaves and retainers,” Ibrahim added softly.
“Tok Wang told us Inche Birch took away the women and forced them to stay in his house! He wants these women but he doesn’t even have the courtesy to ask our chiefs!”
“He never asked! He forced the chiefs to surrender their weapons! Burned their houses when they refused! He even forbade them to wear their kris!”
“Doesn’t he have any respect for our chiefs?”
“Are we going to let this infidel get away with this?”
“Are we worms or dragons in our land?”
Datuk Long Mahmud and Panglima Sangor ignored the outbursts of the young warriors. Such ill-mannered talk in their presence would have brought a sharp rebuke in normal times. But there were more important things to worry about than the manners of the young men.
“I bring worse news, my friends.” Panglima Sangor’s face was a wooden mask as he spoke. “A week ago his royal highness summoned some of us. He told us that he’s forced to hand over the government of the country to Inche Birch. According to the terms of the Pangkor Treaty.”
A howl of dismay rose from the warriors. They looked to their chief. The Datuk’s voice was low and calm when he finally spoke.
“That Birch has gone too far! He’s no right to take over our government. If we’re not careful, by and by he will put more white men in charge. Then one day, these white men will drive us out of our own country.”
“No!”
“His royal highness has been forced to hand over the government to Birch. No matter what we think of the sultan, we’ve got to stand by his royal highness.”
The Datuk looked at each warrior in turn.
“We, the sons of Bandong, cannot spoil the good name of our forebears. We must never be disloyal to our sultan. Do you understand?”
As Ibrahim listened to his father’s measured words, a fierce pride and a passionate guardianship for the land filled him. Bandong. Perak. These were immortal names. He was ready to do battle with anyone should his father give the word. But the Datuk remained silent.
For a while no one spoke. Even the garrulous Musa Talib was silent. Then Panglima Sangor broke the news which roused their blood and rage.
“I’ve been sent to tell you that Birch is coming here.”
“Why?”
“His officers want to put up posters in your villages to tell the peasants about the new government and the collection of taxes. Maharaja Lela was the one who asked me to inform you.”
No one, not even Ibrahim, dared to look in the Datuk’s direction. The Datuk’s voice was strangely flat, almost devoid of any feeling when he spoke.
“Please inform Maharaja Lela that the people of Bandong will do what the people of Kota Lama did.”
Rahim, Nazri and the others turned to Ibrahim but he was just as puzzled by his father’s words.
“My honoured Father, what did the people of Kota Lama do?”
At this, his father’s eyes shone with an unmistakeable mirthless glint.
“The people of Kota Lama did what the mousedeer did! They teased the crocodile till it slithered away in shame! Praise be to Allah for their courage! When Birch went upriver to Kota Lama in his boat, the villagers lined the entire length of the riverbank, all armed and ready for death. Ready to uphold their pride and protect their land. Their chief sent a message. The villagers would fight to the death if Birch landed.”
“What did the dog do?” Rahim asked.
Musa looked as if he would burst if he were to remain silent any longer.
“Nothing!” he roared. “The crocodile fled without setting foot on Kota Lama! Such is the courage of Inche Birch that his boat turned around and went the way it came!”
Ibrahim and his cousins cheered. No one could beat Musa in the telling of a tale. Even the stern-faced Datuk laughed.
“But why is this crocodile coming to Bandong?”
“He wants you to know that he’s the new ruler.” Panglima Sangor’s voice was choked. He could hardly speak for the rage in his heart had been eating him for days. “I don’t know how long we can tolerate the arrogance of this white man.”
“I might be a Kedah man, my lords, but I don’t like what the white men are doing in Perak.”
“Nor I, Musa! I’m the menteri here. I will not allow any white man to post proclamations in Bandong Valley. I will never acknowledge the authority of this Birch. Not even if his highness has done so. And you, my friend, you can tell Maharaja Lela that I am of the same mind as him.”
“Then come with me. Maharaja Lela and some of the chiefs are meeting to discuss this matter.”
“But what about Che’ Wong and his miners, my lord?”
“Musa, thank you for reminding me. Bring them here tonight. I’ll meet my brother tonight before I leave. Ibrahim, be present tonight when I meet him. When he returns from his business in the Kinta, you’ll go with him to Pulau Pinang to study the white man’s tongue.”
“Pardon my asking. Why’re you making your son learn the enemy’s tongue?” Panglima Sangor asked.
“I’ve seen how a white man has learned our tongue and used it to his advantage. Ibrahim can do the same for us by learning the white man’s tongue.”