It was a heart-stirring and magnificent sight to see the advance of that
mighty hunting party into the glen. Scarcely a quarter of a mile across,
the numerous elephants and horsemen were so closed together that it was
impossible for anything to escape the line which now slowly but steadily
advanced. The distance from the mouth to the waterfall was not more than
three-quarters of a mile, and nearly straight, so that the greater part
of the intervening distance could be seen distinctly—in some places
presenting a thick and impenetrable jungle, in others open, as we have
before stated. Along the most abrupt sides, and in advance of the royal
party, men were stationed, who, as the line advanced, discharged
rockets, which whizzing into the air descended at a short distance among
the trees and brushwood, and urged on the game to the end, where it was
met by other discharges. Hundreds of men bore large flat drums, which
they beat incessantly with sticks; and from time to time the broken and
monotonous sound of the kettle-drums which accompanied Tippoo, and
showed where he was, mingled with the din of shouts, screams, halloos,
the shrill blasts of the collery horn, the shriller trumpetings of the
elephants, and the neighings of the wild and frightened horses. All
these noises collectively reverberated through the narrow glen, and from
the echoes there arose one vast chaos of stunning sound, the effect of
which was assisted by the clear air, while it produced the wildest
excitement among the hunters.
At first no game was seen, except the wild hog of the country, which in
hundreds arose from their resting-places, ran hither and thither
confusedly among the crowd,—sometimes upsetting and seriously wounding a
man or two; or a timid deer occasionally, unable to escape up the sides
and terrified by the din, tried to break the line and perished in the
attempt. Innumerable peafowl arose, and with loud screaming flew
onwards, or alighted upon the sides of the glen, and thus escaped; and
birds of every plumage darted from tree to tree; large flocks of
parroquets flew screaming into the air, and after wheeling rapidly once
or twice alighted further on, or rising high took at once a flight over
the shoulder of the glen and disappeared.
At length two huge black bears were roused from their den among some
rocks which overhung the little stream, and with loud roars, which were
heard by all, strove to pass through the line; they were met by the
swords and shields of fifty men upon whom they rushed, and, though they
strove gallantly for their lives and wounded several, they were cut to
pieces.
The party had now proceeded about half way, and there was before the
Sultaun’s elephant a patch of dry rank grass which reached above its
middle—even above old Hyder’s, who far exceeded all the rest in height;
it was of small extent, however, and was already half surrounded by
elephants with their gay howdahs and more gaily dressed riders.
‘Hold!’ cried the Sultaun, ‘we would try this alone, or with only a few;
it is a likely place. Come, Khan, and you Meer Sahib, and you Syud
Ghuffoor, see what ye can do to help us; now, Kasim Ali, prove to me
that thou canst shoot—Bismilla!’
‘Bismilla!’ cried one and all, and the Mahouts urging on the noble
beasts, they entered the long grass together. They had not gone many
yards, when Hyder, who led, raised his white trunk high into the air,
giving at the same time one of those low growls which proved there was
something concealed before him. ‘Shabash, Hyder!’ cried the Sultaun,
‘thou shalt eat goor for this; get on, my son, get on!’
The noble beast seemed almost to understand him, for he quickened his
pace even without the command of the Mahout. At that moment a rocket,
discharged from the side, whizzed through the grass before them. The
effect was instantaneous; two beautiful tigers arose at once. One of
them stood for an instant, looking proudly around him, and lashing his
tail as he surveyed the line of elephants, several of which were
restless and cowardly; the other tried to sneak off, but was stopped by
a shot which turned him; and with a terrific roar, which sounded clear
far above the din of the beaters, it charged the nearest elephant. It
was beaten off, however, receiving several shots, and was then followed
by a crowd of the hunters.
Kasim and the Khan had a mind to pursue it too, but the former’s
attention was at once attracted to the Sultaun, who, having fired and
wounded the other tiger, had been charged by it, and had just fired
again; he had missed, however, and the animal, excited to fury, had
sprung at old Hyder—a far different foe to that his companion had
attacked. Hyder had received the onset firmly, and as the tiger strove
to fasten upon his shoulders had kicked him off; but at the second
charge, when the Sultaun could not fire, the tiger had seized the
elephant’s leg, and was tearing it with all the energy of rage, which
now defied his exertions to shake him off.
In vain did the Sultaun try to fire; he could see the tiger only for a
moment at a time, and as Hyder was no longer steady, he again missed his
aim. Kasim was, however, near, and with others was anxiously watching
his opportunity to fire; but ere he could do so, one of the men on foot,
a stout brawny soldier, with sword drawn and his buckler on his arm, and
to whom death had no terror in comparison with gaining distinction under
the Sultaun’s own eye, dashed at the tiger, and dealt him a fierce blow
on the loins. The blood gushed forth, and the brute, instantly quitting
his hold, turned upon the man with a roar which appalled all hearts; the
latter met him manfully, but was unskilful, or the beast was too
powerful. All was the work of an instant: the tiger and the man rolled
upon the ground,—but only one arose; the lacerated and bleeding body of
the brave fellow lay there, his features turned upwards to the sun, and
his eyes fixed in the leaden stare of death. Now was Kasim’s
opportunity; as the tiger looked around him for an instant to make
another spring—he fired; the brute reeled a few paces to the foot of the
Sultaun’s elephant, fell back, and his dying struggles were shortened by
the vigorous kicks of the old elephant, who bandied the carcass between
his legs like a football.
‘Bus! bus! old Hyder,’ cried the Sultaun, who had been soundly shaken.
‘Enough! enough! he is dead—thanks to thy friend yonder;—what! not
satisfied yet? Well, then, this to please thee,’ and he fired again. It
was apparently sufficient, for the noble beast became once more
composed.
While the Mahout[39] dismounted to examine the elephant’s wounds, the
Sultaun made some hurried inquiries regarding the man who had been
killed. No one, however, knew him; so directing his body to be borne to
the rear, and the Mahout having reported that there was no injury of
consequence done to Hyder, the Sultaun, and with him the whole line,
once more pressed forward.
-----
Footnote 39:
Elephant-driver.
-----
As he passed Kasim, the Sultaun now greeted him heartily. ‘Thou didst me
good service, youth,’ he cried; ‘but for thee my poor Hyder would have
been sorely hurt. Enough—look sharp! there may be more work for thy gun
yet.’
So indeed there was: at every step, as they advanced, the quantity of
game appeared to increase; another bear was aroused, and, after
producing a vast deal of merriment and shouting, was slain as the former
ones had been. Several hyænas were speared or shot; guns were discharged
in all directions at the deer and hogs which were everywhere running
about, and bullets were flying, much to the danger of those engaged in
the wild and animated scene: indeed one or two men were severely wounded
during the day.
Suddenly, when they had nearly reached the head of the glen, the
Sultaun, who was leading, stopped; the others hastened after him, as
fast as the thick crowd would allow, and all beheld a sight which raised
their excitement to the utmost. Before them, on a small open spot, under
a rock, close to the right side of the glen, stood three elephants; one
a huge male, the others a female and her calf, of small stature.
No one spoke—all were breathless with anxiety; for it was impossible to
say whether it would be advisable to attack the large elephant where he
stood, or to allow him to advance. The latter seemed to be the most
prevalent opinion; and the Sultaun awaited his coming, while he hallooed
to those in advance to urge him on. The noble monarch of the forest
stood awaiting his foes—his brethren, who were thus trained to act
against him. His small red eye twinkled with excitement; his looks were
savage, and he appeared almost resolved upon a rush, to endeavour to
break the line and escape, or perish. He did not move, but stood holding
a twig in his trunk, as if in very excess of thought he had torn it down
and still held it. However, there was no time for consideration. As the
Sultaun raised his gun to his shoulder several shots were fired, and the
noble beast, impelled by rage and agony, rushed at once upon the nearest
elephant among his enemies. A shower of balls met him, but he heeded
them not: he was maddened, and could see or feel only his own revenge.
In vain the Mahout of the elephant that was attacked strove to turn his
beast, which had been suddenly paralysed by fear; but the wild one
appeared to have no revengeful feelings against his fellow. While they
all looked on, without being able to afford the least aid, the wild
elephant had seized in his trunk the Mahout of the one he had attacked,
wheeled him round high in the air, and dashed him upon the ground. A cry
of horror burst from all present, and a volley of bullets were rained
upon him; it had the effect of making him drop the body: but though
sorely wounded, he did not fall, and retreating, he passed from their
sight into the thick jungle.
‘Pursue! pursue!’ cried Tippoo from his elephant. ‘Ya Mahomed! are our
beards to be defiled by such a brute? Inshalla! we will have him yet. A
hundred rupees to him who shoots him dead.’
The crowd hurried on; their excitement had reached almost a kind of
madness; and the reward offered by the Sultaun, and the hope of his
favour, had operated as a powerful stimulus. Everyone scrambled to be
first, horsemen and foot, and those who rode the elephants, all in
confusion, and shouting more tumultuously than ever. All other game was
disregarded in the superior excitement; even two panthers, who, roused
at last, savagely charged everybody and everything they came near, were
hardly regarded, and were killed after a desperate battle by those in
the rear. Those in the van still hurried on—the Sultaun leading, the
Khan and Kasim as near to him as etiquette would allow, and the rest
everywhere around them.
They were close to the top of the glen; the murmur of the fall could
sometimes be heard when the shouting ceased for an instant, and its
white and sparkling foam glistened through the branches of some noble
teak-trees which stood around the little basin. The ground underneath
them was quite clear, so that the elephants could advance easily.
‘He is there—I see him!’ cried the Sultaun, aiming at the wounded
elephant, and firing. ‘Holy Alla, he comes! be ready—Fire!’
The noble animal came thundering on with his trunk uplifted, roaring
fearfully, followed by two others, one a large female, who had a small
calf with her, not larger than a buffalo; the other a male not nearly
grown. It was a last and desperate effort to break the line; the blood
was streaming from fifty wounds in his sides, and he was already weak;
with that one effort he had hoped to have saved himself and the female,
but in vain. As he came on, the Khan cried hurriedly to Kasim, ‘Above
the eye! above the eye! you are sure of him there.’ He was met by a
shower of balls, several of which hit him in the head. He seemed to
stagger for a moment; his trunk, which had been raised high in the air,
dropped, and he fell; his limbs quivered for an instant, and then he lay
still in death. Kasim’s bullet had been too truly aimed.
‘Shabash, Shabash! he is dead!’ shouted the Sultaun, wild with
excitement; ‘now for the rest. Spare the young one; now for the
female—beware, she will be savage!’
But she was not so at first; she retreated as far as the rock would
allow her, and placing herself between her enemies and her calf, which,
unconscious of danger, still strove to suck her milk, she tried to
protect it from the shot, that hit her almost every time. Now and then
she would utter low plaintive moans, which if those who fired at her
possessed any feeling, would have pleaded with them to leave her
unmolested. At times, goaded on by maddening pain, she charged the line,
but only to be driven back foiled and disheartened.
‘Ya Alla!’ cried Kasim, ‘will they not let her go free—she and the young
one? Listen, Khan, to her moans. By the Prophet I will not fire—I
cannot.’
But the others continued the attack; and it was evident that she could
not hold out much longer. She made one more desperate effort, but was
beaten back by loud shouts and rockets, and her moans, and the cries of
the calf, became more piteous than ever.
‘For the sake of Alla put her out of pain!’ said the Khan. ‘Aim now
again just over the eye, in the temple; be steady, the shot is sure to
kill. Now! see they are going to fire again at her.’
Kasim raised his unerring matchlock: the firing had ceased at the
moment—all were loading. One sharp crack was heard, and the poor beast
sank down without a moan or a struggle.
A crowd rushed forward to seize the calf, which was pushing its mother
with its proboscis and head, as if to raise her up, uttering even more
touching and piteous cries than ever. Alas! to no purpose. It had by a
miracle escaped the shower of balls, and was strong enough to give much
trouble to its captors ere it was secured. The Sultaun, who had looked
on in silence, now dismounted to examine it; and all his officers and
courtiers, Mahomedan and Hindoo, followed his example. The scene was a
striking one, as that splendidly-dressed group stood beneath the shade
of the noble teak-trees, by the waterfall and the clear stream which
murmured over shining pebbles. Behind them was the rock, a sheer
precipice of fifty feet, covered with flowers and creepers and beautiful
mosses; by it lay the dead female, and near her the male elephant, whose
length some were measuring and registering.
Already more than one had tried the temper of his sword upon the dead
elephant’s carcass, and the Sultaun stepped forward to see the exercise,
which requires a strong and steady hand, and a fair cut, or the sword
would bend or break.
Many had performed the feat with various success—none better than our
friend Kasim; and many others were awaiting their turn, when the young
elephant, bound and secured, was brought before the Sultaun. Instantly
it appeared to Kasim that his eye lighted up with the same cruel
expression he had once or twice noticed, and his countenance to appear
as if a sudden thought had struck him.
‘Bind it fast!’ he cried to the attendants, ‘tie it so that it cannot
move.’ For the poor thing was bleating and crying out loudly at its rude
usage, while its innocent face and tremblings expressed terror most
strongly. The order was obeyed—it was bound with ropes to two adjacent
trees.
‘Now,’ cried the Sultaun, looking around him proudly, and drawing his
light but keen blade, ‘by the blessing of the Prophet we are counted to
have some skill in our Qusrut—let us prove it!’ So saying, and while a
shudder at the cruelty of the act ran round the circle, and the Hindoos
present trembled at the impiety, he bared his arm, and advancing, poised
himself on one foot, while the glittering blade was uplifted above his
head. At last it descended; but being weakly aimed, the back of the poor
beast yielded to the blow, while it screamed with the pain. Almost human
was that scream! The Sultaun tried again and again, losing temper at
every blow, but with no better success.
‘Curse on the blade!’ he cried, throwing it upon the ground; ‘it is not
sharp enough, or we should have cut the beast in two pieces at a blow.’
Several stepped forward and offered their swords; he took one and looked
around—his eye was full of wanton mischief. ‘Now Ramah, Seit,’ he cried
to a portly Hindoo banker who was near, ‘thou shalt try.’
‘May I be your sacrifice,’ said the banker, joining his hands, and
advancing terror-stricken, your slave is no soldier; he never used a
sword in his life.’
‘Peace!’ exclaimed the Sultaun, stamping on the ground, ‘dost thou dare
to disobey? Take the sword, O son of perdition, and strike for thy life,
else it shall be worse for thee.’
‘But your slave is a Hindoo,’ urged the trembling banker, ‘to whom
shedding the blood of an elephant is damnable.’
‘It is right it should be so,’ cried Tippoo, whose most dangerous
passion, bigotry, was instantly aroused by the speech; ‘what say ye, my
friends? this is a kafir, an enemy of the true faith; why should he not
be made to help himself on to perdition?’ and he laughed a low,
chuckling, brutal laugh, which many remembered long after.
‘A wise speech! Ah, rare words! Whose speech is like the Sultaun’s?’
cried most of those around; ‘let him obey orders or die!’
‘Therefore take the sword, most holy Sahoukar,’ continued the Sultaun,
with mock politeness, ‘and strike thy best.’
The poor man, in very dread of his life, which indeed had been little
worth had he disobeyed—advanced and made a feeble stroke, amidst many
protestations of want of skill. His excuses were received with shouts of
laughter and derision by the ribald soldiery, who, with many of his
flatterers, now surrounded the Sultaun, and urged him on. The man was
forced to repeat the blow many times, nor was there a Hindoo present who
was not compelled to take a part in the inhuman barbarity.
Why dwell on the scene further? The miserable animal was hacked at by
the strong and by the weak—bleating and moaning the while in tones of
pain and agony, which grew fainter and fainter, until death released it
from its tormentors. Then only did the Sultaun remount his elephant; and
the human tiger, sated for that day with blood, hunted no more.
‘By Alla and his Prophet!’ said Kasim to the Khan as they returned, and
unable any longer to keep his indignant silence, ‘should there be a
repetition of this, I vow to thee I will forswear his service. This is
the second instance I have seen of his cruelty: hast thou forgotten the
bull?’
‘I have not,’ said the Khan; ‘I well remember it; but this is the worst
thing he has ever done, and is the effect of the refusal of the
marriage. He is ever thus after being violently provoked; but it is much
if Alla does not repay him for it with reverses—we shall see.’
Their horses were at the entrance of the glen, and alighting from their
elephant, they mounted them, and rode on towards the camp, which, with
its innumerable white tents, could be seen from the elevated ground on
which they then stood, at about two miles distant, backed by the blue
distance, and the noble range of the Neelgherry mountains. Here and
there groves of date or palm-trees studded the plain, and in places were
seen dense jungles, between which were open patches of cultivation, and
little villages with their white temples or mosques. The thousands who
had come out for the sport were now returning, some in crowds together,
singing a wild song in chorus, others in smaller groups chatting upon
the events of the day. Here and there was a palankeen, its bearers
crying their monotonous song as they moved, bearing to the camp either
some one too indolent or too grand to ride on horseback, or else the
fair inhabitant of the Sultaun’s or some other harem, who had been
allowed to see as much as was possible of the amusement of the royal
hunt.
‘That is surely the Khanum’s palankeen,’ said Kasim, as its well-known
appearance met his view at a turn of the road.
‘Yes,’ said the Khan, ‘she has been dull of late, and I begged her to
come out; she could have seen nothing, however, and ’tis well she could
not, for that butchery was horrible. Bah! how the creature bleated!’
‘I wish it had not been, Khan, but there is no use speaking of it now.
But how is it that the Khanum is unattended in such a crowd as this?
Some loocha[40] or shoda[40] might insult her, or say something
disagreeable.’
-----
Footnote 40:
Disreputable fellow.
-----
‘By the Prophet! well remarked—the horsemen must have lost her; let us
ride up and see.’ They urged their horses into a canter, and were soon
with her.
‘How is this?’ cried the Khan to the Naik of the bearers; ‘how comes it
that thou art alone?’
‘Khodawund!’ replied the man, ‘we lost the escort, and so thought we had
better return by ourselves, for we knew not where to look for them in
such a crowd.’
‘We had better stay by the palankeen ourselves, Khan Sahib,’ said Kasim;
and Ameena well remembered the tones of his voice, though she had not
heard it for some months; ‘it is not safe that the lady should be here
alone.’
‘Be it so then, Kasim; we will not leave her.’
In a few minutes, however, the Sultaun, who they thought was before, but
who had lingered behind to shoot deer, advanced rapidly on horseback at
the head of the brilliant group of his officers;—a gay sight were they,
as the afternoon sun glanced from spear and sword, from shield,
matchlock, and steel cap, and from their fluttering scarfs of gay
colours and gold and silver tissue. A band of spearmen, bearing the
heavy broad-bladed spears of the Carnatic ornamented with gay tassels,
preceded him, calling out his titles in extravagant terms, and running
at their full speed. Behind him was the crowd of officers and
attendants, checking their gaily caparisoned and plunging horses; and
quite in the rear, followed the whole of the elephants, their bells
jingling in a confused clash, and urged on by their drivers at their
fullest speed to keep pace with the horses. The Sultaun sat his
beautiful grey Arab with the ease and grace of a practised cavalier, now
checking the ardent creature and nearly throwing him backwards, now
urging him on to make bounds and leaps, which showed how admirably he
had been taught his paces, and displayed his own and his rider’s figure
to the best advantage.
‘By Alla, ’tis a gallant sight, Kasim!’ said the Khan; for they had
drawn up to one side, as the cavalcade came thundering on over a level
and open spot, to let it pass; ‘looking at them, a soldier’s eye
glistens and his heart swells; does not thine do so? Look out, my
pearl!’ he cried to Ameena; ‘veil thyself and look out—the Sultaun
comes.’
‘My heart beats,’ said Kasim, ‘but not as it would were he who rides
yonder a man whom I could love as well as fear.’
‘Inshalla!’ cried the Khan, ‘thou wilt forget to-day’s work ere long,
and then thou wilt love the Lion of the Faith, the terrible in war, even
as I do. Inshalla! what Sultaun is there on the earth like him, the
favoured of Alla, before whom the infidels are as chaff in the wind? But
see, he beckons to me; so remain thou with the Khanum, and bring her
into camp.’ And so saying, the Khan gave the rein to his impatient
charger, and bounded onwards to meet the Sultaun, who appeared to
welcome him kindly.
Kasim saw the Khan draw up beside him; joining his hands as if speaking
to him; and as the wild and glittering group hurried by, horses and
elephants intermingled, he lost sight of him among the crowd, and the
cavalcade rapidly disappeared behind a grove of trees.
And now she, who for many months had often filled his dreams by night,
and been the almost constant companion of his thoughts by day, was alone
with him. He had seen her fair and tiny hand shut the door of the
palankeen, which was an impenetrable screen to his longing eyes; and he
would have given anything he possessed for one glance—to have heard one
word, though he dared not have spoken to her.
And in truth, the thoughts of the fair inmate of the vehicle, which was
being borne along at the utmost speed of the bearers, were busied also
in a variety of speculations upon her young guardian. Did he remember
her still? had he still the handkerchief with which his wound had been
bound? for he had never returned it. Did he remember how she handed him
matchlock after matchlock, to fire upon the wild Mahrattas, and cried
with the rest Shabash! when they said his aim was true? She had not
forgotten the most trivial incident; for her heart, in the lack of
society, had brooded on these occurrences; they were associated too, in
her youthful mind, with the appearance of one so noble and gallant, of
whom she heard such constant and florid encomiums from the Khan her
husband, that it would have been strange had she not dwelt on this
remembrance with more than friendship for the author of them. But the
current of these thoughts—when his noble figure was present to her
imagination—as he had dashed on hotly in pursuit of the Mahrattas,—was
suddenly and rudely interrupted by a hubbub, the reason of which she
could not at first comprehend.
The bearers were proceeding rapidly, when, at a turning of the cross
road which they had taken for shortness, they perceived an elephant, one
of the royal procession, which, either maddened by the excitement of the
hunt, or goaded to desperation by its driver, was running hither and
thither upon the road in the wildest manner. The Mahout repeatedly drove
his sharp ankoos[41] into its lacerated head; but this appeared to
enrage, and make it the more restive, instead of compelling it to go
forward, as was evidently his wish.
-----
Footnote 41:
Pointed goads with which elephants are driven.
-----
The bearers stopped suddenly, and appeared irresolute; to attempt to
pass the infuriated animal was madness, and yet what to do immediately
was difficult to determine, for the road was bounded by a thick and
impenetrable hedge of the prickly pear. It was in vain that Kasim
shouted to the Mahout to go on, for he did not immediately comprehend
the cause of the elephant’s behaviour; the obstinate beast could not be
moved in the direction required—it was impossible to force him through
the hedge, and it was frightful to see his behaviour, and to hear the
wild screams and trumpetings he uttered when struck with the sharp goad.
Kasim saw there was danger, but he had little time for thought; he
however drew his sword, and had just ordered the bearers to retreat
behind the corner, when the elephant, which by a sudden turn had seen
what was behind, uplifted its trunk, and with a loud cry dashed forward.
Kasim was brave and cool; and yet there was something so frightful in
the desperate rush of the maddened animal, that his heart almost failed
him; nor could he discover whether it was himself or the palankeen that
was the object of the elephant’s attack; but he had confidence in the
activity of his horse,—his sword was in his hand, and he little feared
for himself. The elephant’s advance was instantaneous; Kasim saw the
palankeen was his object, and dashing forward almost as he reached it,
he struck with his whole force at the brute’s trunk, which was just
within reach. The blow and pain turned the animal from his purpose, but
his huge bulk grazed the palankeen, which, with its terrified bearers,
fell heavily and rudely to the ground, and rolled upon its side.
Kasim heard the scream of Ameena (who had been unable to discover the
cause of the alarm, and was afraid to open the door) the moment the
shock was given, and throwing himself from his horse he hurried to her
assistance, for he was certain she must be severely hurt. This was no
time for ceremony; in an instant the palankeen was set upright, the door
opened, and seeing the fair girl lying, as he thought, senseless within,
he cried out for water, while he supported her inanimate figure, and
poured forth a torrent of passionate exclamations which he could not
restrain.
But no water was there to be had, and it was fortunate that the lady had
received no serious injury; she was stunned and extremely terrified; but
a few moments of rest, and the consciousness of Kasim’s presence,
revived her. Instantly a thought of her situation, and her own modesty,
caused her to cover herself hurriedly with her veil, which had become
disarranged; and, not daring to look upon Kasim, whose incoherent
inquiries were sounding in her ears, she implored him in a few broken
sentences to leave her, and to have her carried onwards. He obeyed,
though he would have given worlds to have heard her voice longer, broken
and agitated as it was; he withdrew sadly, yet respectfully; and the
danger being past—for the elephant had fled madly down the road by which
they had come—they pursued their way to the camp.
-------