In a few days, arrangements were completed, and the force started from Simanggang under the command of the Rajah. It was a picturesque sight, the Dyaks in their war dress, their shields and war caps bristling with horn-bills’ plumes, their flowing waistcloths of bright colours, their swords and spears rattling as they carried them proudly to the landing-place and stacked them in their boats. A regular flotilla of large war canoes followed the Rajah’s boat, the paddles making a thundering and rhythmic noise as they churned up the waters of the river. It was very splendid, exhilarating, and picturesque. All the able-bodied Malay men in the place followed the Rajah, so that the Malay village of Simanggang, lying beyond the Chinese Bazaar, was almost deserted of its male population. A prince of Brunei, called Pangiran Matali, who once had been a subject of the Sultan of that country but who had become a Sarawak subject, a chief called Abang Aing, and two other Malay chiefs from neighbouring rivers, brothers, called Abang Chek and Abang Tek (whose names and curious personalities reminded me of Tweedledum and Tweedledee, for they seemed inseparable friends), also accompanied the Rajah. Pangiran Matali and Abang Aing always took their share in expeditions against head-hunters. They invariably stood by the present Rajah through thick and thin, and had on many occasions risked their lives for him. The Rajah has often spoken to me of their loyalty, their courage, and also of their extraordinary aptitude in helping him with advice in political matters referring to the Sarawak Government. Daiang Kota, Abang Aing’s wife, was a famous woman, a worthy helpmeet to her husband and a loyal subject of the Rajah’s. I knew all these people well, and their memory can never fade from my heart.