The outbreak of cholera did not confine itself entirely to the Chinese quarter. It began picking out victims here and there, and the Kampong of my friends, Datu Isa and her relations, also suffered severely. Every morning, notwithstanding, my Malay friends found their way to the Astana, and during one of these visits, whilst we were talking quite happily and trying to keep our minds free from the all-absorbing topic of the sickness that was laying so many low and bringing mourning to so many houses in Kuching, I saw the Datu Tumanggong’s wife, a buxom lady of forty years, fat and jolly in appearance, suddenly turn the ashy-green colour that reveals sickness amongst these people. She rubbed her chest round and round, and then exclaimed: “Wallahi, I feel very ill.” Good heavens! I thought, she is seized with cholera. Datu Isa said to me, “Wallahi, perhaps the sickness!” I had recourse to heroic methods. I sent for a bottle of brandy, some hot water, and chlorodyne. I gave the poor lady a strong dose of the spirit (which certainly, being a Muhammadan, she had never tasted before), mixed with about twenty drops of chlorodyne. The mixture filled half a tumbler, and I told her to drink it and she would feel all right. She was trembling and frightened, but did not demur for one instant, and swallowed the draught, making an extraordinary gulp in her throat. She gave me back the tumbler, and immediately sank back on the floor and lay inanimate on the rugs in my room. For one moment I thought I had killed her, and looked at Datu Isa and my other friends to see how they would take it. “You have cured her, Rajah Ranee,” they said. “We will go home and leave her to finish her sleep.” I pretended to feel no anxiety, although I must say I did not feel very comfortable. I sent for Ima, and we two stayed in the room to await developments. The lady lay like a log, and her pulse beat very fast. After some time, I saw her colour becoming restored, and in the space of two hours she sat up and appeared to be perfectly well again. “Wallah, Rajah Ranee,” she said. “You do understand. You white people have secrets that no one else can know.” Personally, I was not so sure, but I was delighted when I realized she was none the worse, and saw her escorted down the path to her boat by Ima and the boat-boys. Her attack and my remedy did not appear to do her any harm, for, from that day, she always came to me for help in any ailment.