A MAN-EATER IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
Towards the end of my stay in British East Africa, I dined one evening
with Mr. Ryall, the Superintendent of the Police, in his inspection
carriage on the railway. Poor Ryall! I little thought then what a
terrible fate was to overtake him only a few months later in that very
carriage in which we dined.
A man-eating lion had taken up his quarters at a little roadside
station called Kimaa, and had developed an extraordinary taste for the
members of the railway staff. He was a most daring brute, quite
indifferent as to whether he carried off the station-master, the
signalman, or the pointsman; and one night, in his efforts to obtain a
meal, he actually climbed up on to the roof of the station buildings
and tried to tear off the corrugated-iron sheets. At this the terrified
baboo in charge of the telegraph instrument below sent the following
laconic message to the Traffic Manager: "Lion fighting with station.
Send urgent succour." Fortunately he was not victorious in his "fight
with the station"; but he tried so hard to get in that he cut his feet
badly on the iron sheeting, leaving large blood-stains on the roof.
Another night, however, he succeeded in carrying off the native driver
of the pumping-engine, and soon afterwards added several other victims
to his list. On one occasion an engine-driver arranged to sit up all
night in a large iron water-tank in the hope of getting a shot at him,
and had a loop-hole cut in the side of the tank from which to fire. But
as so often happens, the hunter became the hunted; the lion turned up
in the middle of the night, overthrew the tank and actually tried to
drag the driver out through the narrow circular hole in the top through
which he had squeezed in. Fortunately the tank was just too deep for
the brute to be able to reach the man at the bottom; but the latter was
naturally half paralysed with fear and had to crouch so low down as to
be unable to take anything like proper aim. He fired, however, and
succeeded in frightening the lion away for the time being.
It was in a vain attempt to destroy this pest that poor Ryall met his
tragic and untimely end. On June 6, 1900, he was travelling up in his
inspection carriage from Makindu to Nairobi, accompanied by two
friends, Mr. Huebner and Mr. Parenti. When they reached Kimaa, which is
about two hundred and fifty miles from Mombasa, they were told that the
man-eater had been seen close to the station only a short time before
their train arrived, so they at once made up their minds to remain
there for the night and endeavour to shoot him. Ryall's carriage was
accordingly detached from the train and shunted into a siding close to
the station, where, owing to the unfinished state of the line, it did
not stand perfectly level, but had a pronounced list to one side. In
the afternoon the three friends went out to look for the lion, but,
finding no traces of him whatever, they returned to the carriage for
dinner. Afterwards they all sat up on guard for some time; but the only
noticeable thing they saw was what they took to be two very bright and
steady glow-worms. After-events proved that these could have been
nothing else than the eyes of the man-eater steadily watching them all
the time and studying their every movement. The hour now growing late,
and there being apparently no sign of the lion, Ryall persuaded his two
friends to lie down, while he kept the first watch. Huebner occupied
the high berth over the table on the one side of the carriage, the only
other berth being on the opposite side of the compartment and lower
down. This Ryall offered to Parenti, who declined it, saying that he
would be quite comfortable on the floor and he accordingly lay down to
sleep, with his feet towards the sliding door which gave admission the
carriage.
It is supposed that Ryall, after watching for some considerable time,
must have come to the conclusion that the lion was not going to make
its appearance that night, for he lay down on the lower berth and dozed
off. No sooner had he done so, doubtless, than the cunning man-eater
began cautiously to stalk the three sleepers. In order to reach the
little platform at the end of the carriage, he had to mount two very
high steps from the railway line, but these he managed to negotiate
successfully and in silence. The door from this platform into the
carriage was a sliding one on wheels, which ran very easily on a brass
runner; and as it was probably not quite shut, or at any rate not
secured in any way, it was an easy matter for the lion to thrust in a
paw and shove it open. But owing to the tilt of the carriage and to his
great extra weight on the one side, the door slid to and snapped into
the lock the moment he got his body right in, thus leaving him shut up
with the three sleeping me in the compartment.
He sprang at once at Ryall, but in order to reach him had actually to
plant his feet on Parenti, who, it will be remembered, was sleeping on
the floor. At this moment Huebner was suddenly awakened by a loud cry,
and on looking down from his berth was horrified to see an enormous
lion standing with his hind feet on Parenti's body, while his forepaws
rested on poor Ryall. Small wonder that he was panic-stricken at the
sight. There was only one possible way of escape, and that was through
the second sliding door communicating with the servants' quarters,
which was opposite to that by which the lion had entered. But in order
to reach this door Huebner had literally to jump on to the man-eater's
back, for its great bulk filled up all the space beneath his berth. It
sounds scarcely credible, but it appears that in the excitement and
horror of the moment he actually did this, and fortunately the lion was
too busily engaged with his victim to pay any attention to him. So he
managed to reach the door in safety; but there, to his dismay, he found
that it was held fast on the other side by the terrified coolies, who
had been aroused by the disturbance caused by the lion's entrance. In
utter desperation he made frantic efforts to open it, and exerting all
his strength at last managed to pull it back sufficiently far to allow
him to squeeze through, when the trembling coolies instantly tied it up
again with their turbans. A moment afterwards a great crash was heard,
and the whole carriage lurched violently to one side; the lion had
broken through one of the windows, carrying off poor Ryall with him.
Being now released, Parenti lost no time in jumping through the window
on the opposite side of the carriage, and fled for refuge to one of the
station buildings; his escape was little short of miraculous, as the
lion had been actually standing on him as he lay on the floor. The
carriage itself was badly shattered, and the wood-work of the window
had been broken to pieces by the passage of the lion as he sprang
through with his victim in his mouth.
All that can be hoped is that poor Ryall's death was instantaneous. His
remains were found next morning about a quarter of a mile away in the
bush, and were taken to Nairobi for burial. I am glad to be able to add
that very shortly afterwards the terrible brute who was responsible for
this awful tragedy was caught in an ingenious trap constructed by one
of the railway staff. He was kept on view for several days, and then
shot.