THE DISTRICT OFFICER'S NARROW ESCAPE
Some little time before the flight of the workmen, I had written to Mr.
Whitehead, the District Officer, asking him to come up and assist me in
my campaign against the lions, and to bring with him any of his askaris
(native soldiers) that he could spare. He replied accepting the
invitation, and told me to expect him about dinner-time on December 2,
which turned out to be the day after the exodus. His train was due at
Tsavo about six o'clock in the evening, so I sent my "boy" up to the
station to meet him and to help in carrying his baggage to the camp. In
a very short time, however, the "boy" rushed back trembling with
terror, and informed me that there was no sign of the train or of the
railway staff, but that an enormous lion was standing on the station
platform. This extraordinary story I did not believe in the least, as
by this time the coolies--never remarkable for bravery--were in such a
state of fright that if they caught sight of a hyena or a baboon, or
even a dog, in the bush, they were sure to imagine it was a lion; but I
found out next day that it was an actual fact, and that both
stationmaster and signalman had been obliged to take refuge from one of
the man-eaters by locking themselves in the station building.
I waited some little time for Mr. Whitehead, but eventually, as he did
not put in an appearance, I concluded that he must have postponed his
journey until the next day, and so had my dinner in my customary
solitary state. During the meal I heard a couple of shots, but paid no
attention to them, as rifles were constantly being fired off in the
neighbourhood of the camp. Later in the evening, I went out as usual to
watch for our elusive foes, and took up my position in a crib made of
sleepers which I had built on a big girder close to a camp which I
thought was likely to be attacked. Soon after settling down at my post,
I was surprised to hear the man-eaters growling and purring and
crunching up bones about seventy yards from the crib. I could not
understand what they had found to eat, as I had heard no commotion in
the camps, and I knew by bitter experience that every meal the brutes
obtained from us was announced by shrieks and uproar. The only
conclusion I could come to was that they had pounced upon some poor
unsuspecting native traveller. After a time I was able to make out
their eyes glowing in the darkness, and I took as careful aim as was
possible in the circumstances and fired; but the only notice they paid
to the shot was to carry off whatever they were devouring and to retire
quietly over a slight rise, which prevented me from seeing them. There
they finished their meal at their ease.
As soon as it was daylight, I got out of my crib and went towards the
place where I had last heard them. On the way, whom should I meet but
my missing guest, Mr. Whitehead, looking very pale and ill, and
generally dishevelled.
"Where on earth have you come from?" I exclaimed. "Why didn't you turn
up to dinner last night?"
"A nice reception you give a fellow when you invite him to dinner," was
his only reply.
"Why, what's up?" I asked.
"That infernal lion of yours nearly did for me last night," said
Whitehead.
"Nonsense, you must have dreamed it!" I cried in astonishment.
For answer he turned round and showed me his back. "That's not much of
a dream, is it?" he asked.
His clothing was rent by one huge tear from the nape of the neck
downwards, and on the flesh there were four great claw marks, showing
red and angry through the torn cloth. Without further parley, I hurried
him off to my tent, and bathed and dressed his wounds; and when I had
made him considerably more comfortable, I got from him the whole story
of the events of the night.
It appeared that his train was very late, so that it was quite dark
when he arrived at Tsavo Station, from which the track to my camp lay
through a small cutting. He was accompanied by Abdullah, his sergeant
of askaris, who walked close behind him carrying a lighted lamp. All
went well until they were about half-way through the gloomy cutting,
when one of the lions suddenly jumped down upon them from the high
bank, knocking Whitehead over like a ninepin, and tearing his back in
the manner I had seen. Fortunately, however, he had his carbine with
him, and instantly fired. The flash and the loud report must have dazed
the lion for a second or two, enabling Whitehead to disengage himself;
but the next instant the brute pounced like lightning on the
unfortunate Abdullah, with whom he at once made off. All that the poor
fellow could say was: "Eh, Bwana, simba" ("Oh, Master, a lion"). As the
lion was dragging him over the bank, Whitehead fired again, but without
effect, and the brute quickly disappeared into the darkness with his
prey. It was of course, this unfortunate man whom I had heard the lions
devouring during the night. Whitehead himself had a marvellous escape;
his wounds were happily not very deep, and caused him little or no
inconvenience afterwards.
On the same day, December 3, the forces arrayed against the lions were
further strengthened. Mr. Farquhar, the Superintendent of Police,
arrived from the coast with a score of sepoys to assist in hunting down
the man-eaters, whose fame had by this time spread far and wide, and
the most elaborate precautions were taken, his men being posted on the
most convenient trees near every camp. Several other officials had also
come up on leave to join in the chase, and each of these guarded a
likely spot in the same way, Mr. Whitehead sharing my post inside the
crib on the girder. Further, in spite of some chaff, my lion trap was
put in thorough working order, and two of the sepoys were installed as
bait.
Our preparations were quite complete by nightfall, and we all took up
our appointed positions. Nothing happened until about nine o'clock,
when to my great satisfaction the intense stillness was suddenly broken
by the noise of the door of the trap clattering down. "At last," I
thought, "one at least of the brutes is done for." But the sequel was
an ignominious one.
The bait-sepoys had a lamp burning inside their part of the cage, and
were each armed with a Martini rifle, with plenty of ammunition. They
had also been given strict orders to shoot at once if a lion should
enter the trap. Instead of doing so, however, they were so terrified
when he rushed in and began to lash himself madly against the bars of
the cage, that they completely lost their heads and were actually too
unnerved to fire. Not for some minutes--not, indeed, until Mr.
Farquhar, whose post was close by, shouted at them and cheered them
on--did they at all recover themselves. Then when at last they did
begin to fire, they fired with a vengeance--anywhere, anyhow. Whitehead
and I were at right angles to the direction in which they should have
shot, and yet their bullets came whizzing all round us. Altogether they
fired over a score of shots, and in the end succeeded only in blowing
away one of the bars of the door, thus allowing our prize to make good
his escape. How they failed to kill him several times over is, and
always will be, a complete mystery to me, as they could have put the
muzzles of their rifles absolutely touching his body. There was,
indeed, some blood scattered about the trap, but it was small
consolation to know that the brute, whose capture and death seemed so
certain, had only been slightly wounded.
Still we were not unduly dejected, and when morning came, a hunt was at
once arranged. Accordingly we spent the greater part of the day on our
hands and knees following the lions through the dense thickets of
thorny jungle, but though we heard their growls from time to time, we
never succeeded in actually coming up with them. Of the whole party,
only Farquhar managed to catch a momentary glimpse of one as it bounded
over a bush. Two days more were spent in the same manner, and with
equal unsuccess; and then Farquhar and his sepoys were obliged to
return to the coast. Mr. Whitehead also departed for his district, and
once again I was left alone with the man-eaters.