his wife, which were only made more bitter because To’ Kâya mistook a stringy
piece of egg, in his wife's sweetmeats, for a human hair. To a European, this
does not sound a very important matter, but To’ Kâya, in common with many
Malays, believed that a hair in his food betokened that the dish was poisoned,
and he refused to touch it, hinting that his wife desired his death. Next night he
was also absent until a late hour, tending his father in his sickness, and, on his
return, his wife again abused him for infidelity to her. He cried to her to unbar
the door, which, at length, she did, using many injurious words the while, and
he, in his anger, replied that he would shortly have to stab her to teach her better
manners.
At this she flew into a perfect fury of rage, 'Hei! Stab then! Stab!' she cried, and,
as she shouted the words, she made a gesture which is the grossest insult that a
Malay woman can put upon a man. At this To’ Kâya lost both his head and his
temper, and, hardly knowing what he did, he drew his dagger clear and she took
the point in her breast, their baby, who was on her arm, being also slightly
wounded. Dropping the child upon the verandah, she rushed past her husband,
and took refuge in the house of a neighbour named Che’ Long. To’ Kâya
followed her, and cried to those within the house to unbar the door. Che’ Long's
daughter Ësah ran to comply with his bidding; but, before she could do so, To’
Kâya had crept under the house, and he stabbed at her savagely through the
interstices of the bamboo flooring, wounding her in the hip. The girl's father,
hearing the noise, ran out of the house, and was greeted by To’ Kâya with a
spear thrust in the stomach which doubled him up, and, like Abner Dean of
Angel's, 'the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.' Meanwhile, To’
Kâya's wife had rushed out of the house, and returned to her home. Her husband
pursued her, overtook her on the verandah, and stabbed her through the breast,
killing her on the spot.
He then entered his house, which was still tenanted by his son, and his mother-
in-law, and set fire to the bed curtains with a box of matches. Now, the people of
Kuâla Trĕnggânu dread fire more than anything in the world; for, their houses,
which are made of very inflammable material, jostle one another on every foot
of available ground. When a Trĕnggânu man deliberately sets fire to his own
house, he has reached the highest pitch of desperation, and is 'burning his ships'
in sober earnest. At the sight of the flames, To’ Kâya's son, a boy of about
twelve years of age, made a rush at the curtains, pulled them down, and stamped
the fire out. To’ Kâya's mother-in-law, meanwhile, had rushed out of the house,
seized the baby who still lay on the verandah, and set off at a run. The sight of