The Pearl Fishery--Desolation of the Coast--Harbor of
Trincomalee--Fatal Attack by a Shark--Ferocious Crocodiles--Salt
Monopoly--Salt Lakes--Method of Collection--Neglect of Ceylon
Hides--Fish and Fishing--Primitive Tackle--Oysters and Penknives--A
Night Bivouac for a Novice--No Dinner, but a Good Fire--Wild Yams and
Consequences--The Elephants' Duel--A Hunting Hermitage--Bluebeard's
last Hunt--The Leopard--Bluebeard's Death--Leopard Shot.
While fresh from the subject of government mismanagement, let us turn
our eyes in the direction of one of those natural resources of wealth
for which Ceylon has ever been renowned--the "pearl fishery." This was
the goose which laid the golden egg, and Sir W. Horton, when governor
of Ceylon, was the man who killed the goose.
Here was another fatal instance of the effects of a five years' term of
governorship.
It was the last year of his term, and he wished to prove to the
Colonial Office that "his talent" had not been laid up in a napkin, but
that he had left the colony with an excess of income over expenditure.
To obtain this income he fished up all the oysters, ruined the fishery
in consequence; and from that day to the present time it has been
unproductive.
This is a serious loss of income to the colony, and great doubts are
entertained as to the probability, of the oyster-banks ever recovering
their fertility.
Nothing can exceed the desolation of the coast in the neighborhood of
the pearl-banks. For many miles the shore is a barren waste of low
sandy ground, covered for the most part with scrubby, thorny jungle,
diversified by glades of stunted herbage. Not a hill is to be seen as
far as the eye can reach. The tracks of all kind of game abound on the
sandy path, with occasionally those of a naked foot, but seldom does a
shoe imprint its civilized mark upon these lonely shores.
The whole of this district is one of the best in Ceylon for
deer-shooting, which is a proof of its want of inhabitants. This has
always been the case, even in the prosperous days of the pearl fishery.
So utterly worthless is the soil, that it remains in a state of nature,
and its distance from Colombo (one hundred and fifty miles) keeps it in
entire seclusion.
It is a difficult to conceive that any source of wealth should exist in
such a locality. When standing on the parched sand, with the burning
sun shining in pitiless might upon all around, the meagre grass burnt
to a mere straw, the tangled bushes denuded of all verdure save a few
shriveled leaves, the very insects seeking shelter from the rays, there
is not a tree to throw a shadow, but a dancing haze of molten air
hovers upon the ground, and the sea like a mirror reflects a glare,
which makes the heat intolerable. And yet beneath the wave on this
wild and desolate spot glitter those baubles that minister to man's
vanity; and, as though in mockery of such pursuits, I have seen the
bleached skulls of bygone pearl-seekers lying upon the sand, where they
have rotted in view of the coveted treasures.
There is an appearance of ruin connected with everything in the
neighborhood. Even in the good old times this coast was simply visited
during the period for fishing. Temporary huts were erected for
thousands of natives, who thronged to Ceylon from all parts of the East
for the fascinating speculations of the pearl fishery. No sooner was
the season over than every individual disappeared; the wind swept away
the huts of sticks and leaves; and the only vestiges remaining of the
recent population were the government stores and house at Arripo, like
the bones of the carcase after the vultures had feasted and departed.
All relapsed at once into its usual state of desolation.
The government house was at one time a building of some little
pretension, and from its style it bore the name of the "Doric." It is
now, like everything else, in a state of lamentable decay. The
honeycombed eighteen pounder, which was the signal gun of former years,
is choked with drifting sand, and the air of misery about the place is
indescribable.
Now that the diving helmet has rendered subaqueous discoveries, so
easy, I am surprised that a government survey has not been made of the
whole north-west coast of Ceylon. It seems reasonable to suppose that
the pearl oyster should inhabit depths which excluded the simple diver
of former days, and that our modern improvements might discover
treasures in the neighborhood of the old pearl-beds of which we are now
in ignorance. The best divers, without doubt, could never much exceed
a minute in submersion. I believe the accounts of their performances
generally to have been much exaggerated. At all events, those of the
present day do not profess to remain under water much more than a
minute.
The accounts of Ceylon pearl fisheries are so common in every child's
book that I do not attempt to describe the system in detail. Like all
lotteries, there are few prizes to the proportion of blanks.
The whole of this coast is rich in the biche de mer more commonly
called the sea-slug. This is a disgusting species of mollusca, which
grows to a large size, being commonly about a foot in length and three
or four inches in diameter. The capture and preparation of these
creatures is confined exclusively to the Chinese, who dry them in the
sun until they shrink to the size of a large sausage and harden to the
consistency of horn; they are then exported to China for making soups.
No doubt they are more strengthening than agreeable; but I imagine that
our common garden slug would be an excellent substitute to any one
desirous of an experiment, as it exactly resembles its nautical
representative in color and appearance. Trincomalee is the great depot
for this trade, which is carried on to a large extent, together with
that of sharks' fins, the latter being used by the Chinese for the same
purpose as the biche de mer. Trincomalee affords many facilities for
this trade, as the slugs are found in large quantities on the spot, and
the finest harbor of the East is alive with sharks. Few things surpass
the tropical beauty of this harbor; lying completely land-locked, it
seems like a glassy lake surrounded by hills covered with the waving
foliage of groves of cocoa-nut trees and palms of great variety. The
white bungalows with their red-tiled roofs, are dotted about along the
shore, and two or three men-of-war are usually resting at their ease in
this calm retreat. So deep is the water that the harbor forms a
perfect dock, as the largest vessel can lie so close to the shore that
her yards overhang it, which enables stores and cargo to be shipped
with great facility.
The fort stands upon a projecting point of land, which rises to about
seventy feet above the level of the galle face (the race-course) which
faces it. Thus it commands the land approach across this flat plain on
one side and the sea on the other. This same fort is one of the hottest
corners of Ceylon, and forms a desirable residence for those who
delight in a temperature of from 90 degrees to 140 degrees in the
shade. Bathing is the great enjoyment, but the pleasure in such a
country is destroyed by the knowledge that sharks are looking out for
you in the sea, and crocodiles in the rivers and tanks; thus a man is
nothing more than an exciting live-bait when he once quits terra firma.
Accidents necessarily must happen, but they are not so frequent as
persons would suppose from the great number of carnivorous monsters
that exist. Still, I am convinced that a white man would run greater
risk than a black; he is a more enticing bait, being bright and easily
distinguished in the water. Thus in places where the natives are in
the habit of bathing with impunity it would be most dangerous for a
white man to enter.
There was a lamentable instance of this some few years ago at
Trincomalee. In a sheltered nook among the rocks below the fort, where
the natives were always in the habit of bathing, a party of soldiers of
the regiment then in garrison went down one sultry afternoon for a
swim. It was a lovely spot for bathing; the water was blue, clear and
calm, as the reef that stretched far out to sea served as a breakwater
to the heavy surf, and preserved the inner water as smooth as a lake.
Here were a fine lot of English soldiers stripped to bathe; and
although the ruddy hue of British health had long since departed in the
languid climate of the East, nevertheless their spirits were as high as
those of Englishmen usually are, no matter where or under what
circumstances. However, one after the other took a run, and then a
"header" off the rocks into the deep blue water beneath. In the long
line of bathers was a fine lad of fifteen, the son of one of the
sergeants of the regiment; and with the emulation of his age he ranked
himself among the men, and on arriving at the edge he plunged
head-foremost into the water and disappeared. A crowd of men were on
the margin watching the bathing; the boy rose to the surface within a
few feet of them, but as he shook the water from his hair, a cloudy
shadow seemed to rise from the deep beneath him, and in another moment
the distinct outline of a large shark was visible as his white belly
flashed below. At the same instant there was a scream of despair; the
water was crimsoned, and a bloody foam rose to the surface--the boy was
gone! Before the first shock of horror was well felt by those around, a
gallant fellow of the same regiment shot head first into the bloody
spot, and presently reappeared from his devoted plunge, bearing in his
arms one-half of the poor boy. The body was bitten off at the waist,
and the lower portion was the prize of the ground shark.
For several days the soldiers were busily employed in fishing for this
monster, while the distracted mother sat in the burning sun, watching
in heart-broken eagerness, in the hope of recovering some trace of her
lost son. This, however, was not to be; the shark was never seen again.
There is as much difference in the characters of sharks as among other
animals or men. Some are timid and sluggish, moving as though too lazy
to seek their food; and there is little doubt that such would never
attack man. Others, on the contrary, dash through the water as a pike
would seize its prey, and refuse or fear nothing. There is likewise a
striking distinction in the habits of crocodiles; those that inhabit
rivers being far more destructive and fearless than those that infest
the tanks. The natives hold the former in great terror, while with the
latter they run risks which are sometimes fatal. I recollect a large
river in the southeast of Ceylon, which so abounds with ferocious
crocodiles that the natives would not enter the water in depths above
the knees, and even this they objected to, unless necessity compelled
them to cross the river. I was encamped on the banks for some little
time, and the natives took the trouble to warn me especially not to
enter; and, as proof of the danger, they showed me a spot where three
men had been devoured in the course of one year, all three of whom are
supposed to have ministered to the appetite of the same crocodile.
Few reptiles are more disgusting in appearance than these brutes; but,
nevertheless, their utility counterbalances their bad qualities, as
they cleanse the water from all impurities. So numerous are they that
their heads may be seen in fives and tens together, floating at the top
of the water like rough corks; and at about five P.M. they bask on the
shore close to the margin of the shore ready to scuttle in on the
shortest notice. They are then particularly on the alert, and it is a
most difficult thing to stalk them, so as to get near enough to make a
certain shot. This is not bad amusement when no other sport can be had.
Around the margin of a lake, in a large plain far in the distance, may
be seen a distinct line upon the short grass like the fallen trunk of a
tree. As there are no trees at hand, this must necessarily be a
crocodile. Seldom can the best hand at stalking then get within eighty
yards of him before he lifts his scaly head, and, listening for a
second, plunges off the bank.
I have been contradicted in stating that a ball will penetrate their
scales. It is absurd, however, to hold the opinion that the scales
will turn a ball--that is to say, stop the ball (as we know that a
common twig will of course turn it from its direction, if struck
obliquely).
The scales of a crocodile are formed of bone exquisitely jointed
together like the sections of a skull; these are covered externally
with a horny skin, forming, no doubt, an excellent defensive armor,
about an inch in thickness; but the idea of their being impenetrable to
a ball, if struck fair, is a great fallacy. People may perhaps
complain because a pea rifle with a mere pinch of powder may be
inefficient, but a common No. 16 fowling-piece, with two drachms of
powder, will penetrate any crocodile that was ever hatched.
Among the most harmless kinds are those which inhabit the salt lakes in
the south of Ceylon. I have never beard of an accident in these
places, although hundreds of persons are employed annually in
collecting salt from the bottom.
These natural reservoirs are of great extent, some of them being many
miles in circumference. Those most productive are about four miles
round, and yield a supply in August, during the height of the dry
season.
Salt in Ceylon is a government monopoly; and it has hitherto been the
narrow policy of the government to keep up an immense price upon this
necessary of life, when the resources of the country could produce any
amount required for the island consumption.
These are now all but neglected, and the government simply gathers the
salt as the wild pig feeds upon the fruit which falls from the tree in
its season.
The government price of salt is now about three shillings per bushel.
This is very impure, being mixed with much dirt and sand. The revenue
obtained by the salt monopoly is about forty thousand pounds per annum,
two-thirds of which is an unfair burden upon the population, as the
price, according to the supply obtainable, should never exceed one
shilling per bushel.
Let us consider the capabilities of the locality from which it is
collected.
The lakes are some five or six in number, situated within half a mile
of the sea, separated only by a high bank of drift sand, covered for
the most part with the low jungle which clothes the surrounding
country. Flat plains of a sandy nature form the margins of the lakes.
The little town of Hambantotte, with a good harbor for small craft, is
about twenty miles distant, to which there is a good cart road.
The water of these lakes is a perfect brine. In the dry season the
evaporation, of course, increases the strength until the water can no
longer retain the amount of salt in solution it therefore precipitates
and crystalizes at the bottom in various degrees of thickness,
according to the strength of the brine.
Thus, as the water recedes from the banks by evaporation and the lake
decreases in size, it leaves a beach, not of shingles, but of pure salt
in crystallized cubes, to the depth of several inches, and sometimes to
half a foot or more. The bottom of the lake is equally coated with
this thick deposit.
These lakes are protected by watchers, who live upon the margin
throughout the year. Were it not for this precaution, immense
quantities of salt would be stolen. In the month of August the weather
is generally most favorable for the collection, at which time the
assistant agent for the district usually gives a few days'
superintendence.
The salt upon the shore being first collected, the natives wade into
the lake and gather the deposit from the bottom, which they bring to
the shore in baskets; it is then made up into vast piles, which are
subsequently thatched over with cajans (the plaited leaf of the
cocoanut). In this state it remains until an opportunity offers for
carting it to the government salt stores.
This must strike the reader as being a rude method of collecting what
Nature so liberally produces. The waste is necessarily enormous, as
the natives cannot gather the salt at a greater depth than three feet;
hence the greater proportion of the annual produce of the lake remains
ungathered. The supply at present afforded might be trebled with very
little trouble or expense.
If a stick is inserted in the mud, so that one end stands above water,
the salt crystallizes upon it in a large lump of several pounds'
weight. This is of a better quality than that which is gathered from
the bottom, being free from sand or other impurities. Innumerable
samples of this may be seen upon the stakes which the natives have
stuck in the bottom to mark the line of their day's work. These, not
being removed, amass a collection of salt as described.
Were the government anxious to increase the produce of these natural
reservoirs, nothing could be more simple than to plant the whole lake
with rows of stakes. The wood is on the spot, and the rate of labor
sixpence a day per man; thus it might be accomplished for a
comparatively small amount.
This would not only increase the produce to an immense degree, but it
would also improve the purity of the collection, and would render
facilities for gathering the crop by means of boats, and thus obviate
the necessity of entering the water; at present the suffering caused by
the latter process is a great drawback to the supply of labor. So
powerful is the brine that the legs and feet become excoriated after
two or three days' employment, and the natives have accordingly a great
aversion to the occupation.
Nothing could be easier than gathering the crop by the method proposed.
Boats would paddle along between the rows of stakes, while each stick
would be pulled up and the salt disengaged by a single blow; the stick
would then be replaced in its position until the following season.
Nevertheless, although so many specimens exist of this accumulation,
the method which was adopted by the savage is still followed by the
soi-disant civilized man.
In former days, when millions occupied Ceylon, the demand for salt must
doubtless have been in proportion, and the lakes which are now so
neglected must have been taxed to their utmost resources. There can be
little doubt that the barbarians of those times had some more civilized
method of increasing the production than the enlightened race of the
present day.
The productive salt lakes are confined entirely to the south of Ceylon.
Lakes and estuaries of sea-water abound all round the island, but these
are only commonly salt, and do not yield. The north and the east
coasts are therefore supplied by artificial salt-pans. These are
simple enclosed levels on the beach, into which the sea-water is
admitted, and then allowed to evaporate by the heat of the sun. The
salt of course remains at the bottom. More water is then admitted, and
again evaporated; and this process continues until the thickness of the
salt at the bottom allows of its being collected.
This simple plan might be adopted with great success with the powerful
brine of the salt lakes, which might be pumped from its present lower
level into dry reservoirs for evaporation.
The policy of the government, however, does not tend to the increase of
any production. It is preferred to keep up the high rate of salt by a
limited supply, which meets with immediate demand, rather than to
increase the supply for the public benefit at a reduced rate. This is
a mistaken mode of reasoning. At the present high price the
consumption of salt is extremely small, is its rise is restricted to
absolute necessaries. On the other hand, were the supply increased at
one half the present rate, the consumption would augment in a far
greater proportion, as salt would then be used for a variety of
purposes which at the present cost is impossible, viz. For the purpose
of cattle-feeding, manures, etc., etc. In addition to this, it would
vastly affect the price of salt fish (the staple article of native
consumption), and by the reduction in cost of this commodity there
would be a corresponding extension in the trade.
The hundreds of thousands of hides which are now thrown aside to rot
uncared for would then be preserved and exported, which at the present
rate of salt is impossible. The skins of buffaloes, oxen, deer, swine,
all valuable in other parts of the world, in Ceylon are valueless. The
wild buffalo is not even skinned when shot; he is simply opened for his
marrow-bones, his tail is cut off for soup, his brains taken out for
cotelettes, and his tongue salted. The beast himself, hide and all, is
left as food for the jackal. The wandering native picks up his horns,
which find their way to the English market; but the "hide," the only
really valuable portion, is neglected.
Within a short distance of the salt lakes, buffaloes, boars, and in
fact all kind of animals abound, and I have no doubt that if it were
once proved to the natives that the hides could be made remunerative,
they would soon learn the method of preparation.
Some persons have an idea that a native will not take the trouble to do
anything that would turn a penny; in this I do not agree. Certainly a
native has not sufficient courage for a speculation which involves the
risk of loss; but provided he is safe in that respect, he will take
unbounded trouble for his own benefit, not valuing his time or labor in
pursuit of his object.
I have noticed a great change in the native habits along the southern
coast which exemplifies this, since the steamers have touched regularly
at Galle.
Some years ago, elephants, buffaloes, etc., when shot by sportsmen,
remained untouched except by wild beast; but now within one hundred and
fifty miles of Galle every buffalo horn is collected and even the
elephant's grinders are extracted from the skulls, and brought into
market.
An elephant's grinder averages seven pounds in weight, and is not worth
more than from a penny to three half-pence a pound; nevertheless they
are now brought to Galle in large quantities to be made into
knife-handles and sundry ornaments, to tempt the passengers of the
various steamers. If the native takes this trouble for so small a
recompense, there is every reason to suppose that the hides now wasted
would be brought into market and form a valuable export, were salt at
such a rate as would admit of their preparation.
The whole of the southern coast, especially in the neighborhood of the
salt lakes, abounds with fish. These are at present nearly undisturbed;
but I have little doubt that a reduction in the price of salt would
soon call forth the energies of the Moormen, who would establish
fisheries in the immediate neighborhood. This would be of great
importance to the interior of the country, as a road has been made
within the last few years direct from this locality to Badulla, distant
about eighty miles, and situated in the very heart of the most populous
district of Ceylon. This road, which forms a direct line of
communication from the port of Hambantotte to Newera Ellia, is now much
used for the transport of coffee from the Badulla estates, to which a
cheap supply of salt and fish would be a great desideratum.
The native is a clever fellow at fishing. Every little boy of ten
years old along the coast is an adept in throwing the casting net; and
I have often watched with amusement the scientific manner in which some
of these little fellows handle a fine fish on a single line; Isaak
Walton would have been proud of such pupils.
There is nothing like necessity for sharpening a man's intellect, and
the natives of the coast being a class of ichthyophagi, it may be
imagined that they excel in all the methods of capturing their favorite
food.
The sea, the rivers, and in fact every pool, teem with fish of
excellent quality, from the smallest to the largest kind, not
forgetting the most delicious prawns and crabs. Turtle likewise
abound, and are to be caught in great numbers in their season.
Notwithstanding the immense amount of fish in the various rivers, there
is no idea of fishing as a sport among the European population of
Ceylon. This I cannot account for, unless from the fear of fever,
which might be caught with more certainty than fish by standing up to
the knees in water under a burning sun. Nevertheless, I have indulged
in this every now and then, when out on a jungle trip, although I have
never started from home with such an intention. Seeing some fine big
fellows swimming about in a deep hole is a great temptation, especially
when you know they are grey mullet, and the chef de cuisine is short of
the wherewithal for dinner.
This is not infrequently the case during a jungle trip; and the tent
being pitched in the shade of a noble forest on the steep banks of a
broad river, thoughts of fishing naturally intrude themselves.
The rivers in the dry season are so exhausted that a simple bed of
broad dry sand remains, while a small stream winds along the bottom,
merely a few inches deep, now no more than a few feet in width, now
rippling over a few opposing rocks, while the natural bed extends its
dry sand for many yards on either side. At every bend in the river
there is of course a deep hole close to the bank; these holes remain
full of water, as the little stream continues to flow through them; and
the water, in its entrance and exit being too shallow for a large fish,
all the finny monsters of the river are compelled to imprison
themselves in the depths of these holes. Here the crocodiles have fine
feeding, as they live in the same place.
With a good rod and tackle there would be capital sport in these
places, as some of the fish run ten and twelve pounds weight; but I
have never been well provided, and, while staring at the coveted fish
from the bank, I have had no means of catching them, except by the most
primitive methods.
Then I have cut a stick for a rod, and made a line with some hairs from
my horse's tail, with a pin for a hook, baited with a shrimp, and the
fishing has commenced.
Fish and fruit are the most enjoyable articles of food in a tropical
country, and in the former Ceylon is rich. The seir fish is little
inferior to salmon, and were the flesh a similar color, it might
sometimes form a substitute. Soles and whiting remind us of Old
England, but a host of bright red, blue, green, yellow, and
extraordinary-looking creatures in the same net dispel all ideas of
English fishing.
Oysters there are likewise in Ceylon; but here, alas I there is a sad
falling off in the comparison with our well-remembered "native."
Instead of the neat little shell of the English oyster, the Ceylon
species is a shapeless, twisted, knotty, rocky-looking creature, such
as a legitimate oyster would be in a fit of spasms or convulsions. In
fact, there is no vestige of the true breed about it, and the want of
flavor equals its miserable exterior.
There are few positions more tantalizing to a hungry man than that of
being surrounded b oysters without a knife. It is an obstinate and
perverse wretch that will not accommodate itself to man's appetite, and
it requires a forcible attack to vanquish it; so that every oyster
eaten is an individual murder, in which the cold steel has been plunged
into its vitals, and the animal finds itself swallowed before it as
quite made up its mind that it has been opened. But take away the
knife, and see how vain is the attempt to force the stronghold. How
utterly useless is the oyster! You may turn it over and over, and look
for a weak place, but there is no admittance; you may knock it with a
stone, but the knock will be unanswered. How would you open such a
creature without a knife?
This was one of the many things that had never occurred to me until one
day when I found myself with some three or four friends and a few
boatmen on a little island, or rather a rock, about a mile from the
shore. This rock was rich in the spasmodic kind of oyster, large
detached masses of which lay just beneath the water in lumps of some
hundredweight each, which had been formed by the oysters clustering and
adhering together. It so happened that our party were unanimous in the
love of these creatures, and we accordingly exerted ourselves to roll
out of the water a large mass; which having accomplished, we discovered
to our dismay that nothing but one penknife was possessed among us.
This we knew was a useless weapon against such armor; however, in our
endeavors to perform impossibilities, we tickled the oyster and broke
the knife. After gazing for seine time in blank despair at our useless
prize, a bright thought struck one of the party, and drawing his ramrod
he began to screw it Into the weakest part of an oyster; this, however,
was proof, and the ramrod broke.
Stupid enough it may appear, but it was full a quarter of an hour
before any of us thought of a successful plan of attack. I noticed a
lot of drift timber scattered upon the island, and then the right idea
was hit. We gathered the wood, which was bleached and dry, an we piled
it a few feet to windward of the mass of oysters. Striking a light
with a cap and some powder, we lit the pile. It blazed and the wind
blew the heat strong upon the oysters, which accordingly began to
squeak and hiss, until one by one they gave up the ghost, and, opening
their shells, exposed their delightfully roasted bodies, which were
eaten forthwith.
How very absurd and uninteresting this is! but nevertheless it is one
of those trifling incidents which sharpen the imagination when you
depend upon your own resources.
It is astonishing how perfectly helpless some people are if taken from
the artificial existence of every-day life and thrown entirely upon
themselves. One man would be in superlative misery while another would
enjoy the responsibility, and delight in the fertility of his own
invention in accommodating himself to circumstances. A person can
scarcely credit the unfortunate number of articles necessary for his
daily and nightly comfort, until he is deprived of them. To realize
this, lose yourself, good reader, wander off a great distance from
everywhere, and be benighted in a wild country, with nothing but your
rifle and hunting-knife. You will then find yourself dinnerless,
supperless, houseless, comfortless, sleepless, cold and miserable, if
you do not know how to manage for yourself. You will miss your dinner
sadly if you are not accustomed to fast for twenty-four hours. You
will also miss your bed decidedly, and your toothbrush in the morning;
but if, on the other hand, you are of the right stamp, it is
astonishing how lightly these little troubles will sit on you, and how
comfortable you will make yourself under the circumstances.
The first thing you will consider is the house. The architectural
style will of course depend upon the locality. If the ground is rocky
and hilly, be sure to make a steep pitch in the bank or the side of a
rock form a wall, to leeward of which you will lie when your mansion is
completed by a few sticks simply inclined from the rock and covered
with grass. If the country is flat, you must cut four forked sticks,
and erect a villa after this fashion in skeleton-work, which you then
cover with grass.
You will then strew the floor with grass or, small boughs, in lieu of a
feather bed, and you will tie up a bundle of the same material into a
sheaf, which will form a capital pillow. If grass and sticks are at
hand, this will be completed thus far in an hour.
Then comes the operation of fire-making, which is by no means easy; and
as warmth comes next to food, and a blaze both scares wild animals and
looks cheerful, I advise some attention to be paid to the fire. There
must be a good collection of old fallen logs, if possible, together
with some green wood to prevent too rapid a consumption of fuel. But
the fire is not yet made.
First tear off a bit of your shirt and rub it with moistened gunpowder.
Wind this in a thick roll round your ramrod just below the point of the
screw, with the rough torn edge uppermost. Into these numerous folds
sprinkle a pinch of gunpowder; then put a cap on the point of the
screw, and a slight tap with your hunting-knife explodes it and ignites
the linen.
Now, fire in its birth requires nursing like a young baby, or it will
leave you in the lurch. A single spark will perhaps burn your
haystacks, but when you want a fire it seldom will burn, out of sheer
obstinacy; therefore, take a wisp of dry grass, into which push the
burning linen and give it a rapid, circular motion through the air,
which will generally set it in a blaze.
Then pile gently upon it the smallest and driest sticks, increasing
their size as the fire grows till it is all right; and you will sit
down proudly before your own fire, thoroughly confident that you are
the first person that ever made one properly.
There is some comfort in that; and having manufactured your own house
and bed, you will lie down snugly and think of dinner till you fall
asleep, and the crowing of the jungle-cocks will wake you in the
morning.
The happiest hours of my life have been passed in this rural solitude.
I have started from home with nothing but a couple of blankets and the
hounds, and, with one blanket wrapped round me I have slept beneath a
capital tent formed of the other with two forked sticks and a
horizontal pole--the ends of the blanket being secured by heavy stones,
thus--
This is a more comfortable berth than it may appear at first sight,
especially if one end is stopped up with boughs. The ridge-pole being
only two feet and a half high, renders it necessary to crawl in on
all-fours; but this lowness of ceiling has its advantages in not
catching the wind, and likewise in its warmth. A blanket roof, well
secured and tightly strained, will keep off the heaviest rain for a
much longer period than a common tent; but in thoroughly wet weather
any woven roof is more or less uncomfortable.
I recollect a certain bivouac in the Angora patinas for a few days'
hunting, when I was suddenly seized with a botanical fit in a culinary
point of view, and I was determined to make the jungle subscribe
something toward the dinner. To my delight, I discovered some plants
which, from the appearance of their leaves, I knew were a species of
wild yam; they grew in a ravine on the swampy soil of a sluggish
spring, and the ground being loose, I soon grubbed them up and found a
most satisfactory quantity of yams about the size of large
potatoes--not bad things for dinner. Accordingly, they were soon
transferred to the pot. Elk steaks and an Irish stew, the latter to be
made of elk chops, onions and the prized yams; this was the bill of
fare expected. But, misericordia! what a change cone over the yams
when boiled! they turned a beautiful slate color, and looked like
imitations of their former selves in lead.
Their appearance was uncommonly bad, certainly. There were three of us
to feed upon them, viz., Palliser, my huntsman Benton and myself. No
one wishing to be first, it was then, I confess, that the thought just
crossed my mind that Benton should make the experiment, but, repenting
at the same moment, I punished myself by eating a very little one on
the spot. Benton, who was blessed with a huge appetite, picked out a
big one. Greedy fellow, to choose the largest! but, n'importe, it
brought its punishment.
Palliser and I having eaten carefully, were just beginning to feel
uncomfortable, when up jumped Benton, holding his throat with both
hands, crying, "My throat's full of pins. I'm choked." "We are
poisoned, no doubt of it," said Palliser, in his turn. "I am choking
likewise." "So am I." There we were all three, with our throats in an
extraordinary state of sudden contraction and inflammation, with a
burning and pricking sensation, in addition to a feeling of swelling
and stoppage of the windpipe. Having nothing but brandy at hand, we
dosed largely instanter, and in the course of ten minutes we found
relief; but Benton, having, eaten his large yam, was the last to
recover.
There must have been highly poisonous qualities in this root, as the
quantity eaten was nothing in proportion to the effects produced. It
is well known that many roots are poisonous when raw (especially the
manioc), which become harmless when cooked, as the noxious properties
consist of a very volatile oil, which is thrown off during the process
of boiling. These wild yams must necessarily be still worse in their
raw state; and it struck me, after their effects became known, that I
had never seen them grubbed up by the wild hogs; this neglect being a
sure proof of their unfitness for food.
In these Augora patinas a curious duel was lately fought by a pair of
wild bull elephants, both of whom were the raree aves of Ceylon,
"tuskers." These two bulls had consorted with a herd, and had no doubt
quarreled about the possession of the females. They accordingly fought
it out to the death, as a large tusker was found recently killed, with
his body bored in many directions by his adversary's tusks, the ground
in the vicinity being trodden down with elephant tracks proving the
obstinacy of the fight.
The last time that I was in this locality poor old Bluebeard was alive,
and had been performing feats in elk-hunting which no dog could
surpass. A few weeks later and he ran his last elk, and left a sad
blank in the pack.
Good and bad luck generally come in turn; but when the latter does pay
a visit, it falls rather heavily, especially among the hounds. In one
year I lost nearly the whole pack. Seven died in one week from an
attack upon the brain, appearing in a form fortunately unknown in
England. In the same year I lost no less than four of the best hounds
by leopards, in addition to a fearful amount of casualties from other
causes.
Shortly after the appearance of the epidemic alluded to, I took the
hounds to the Totapella Plains for a fortnight, for chance of air,
while their kennel was purified and re-whitewashed.
In these Totapella Plains I had a fixed encampment, which, being within
nine miles of my house, I could visit at any time with the hounds,
without the slightest preparation. There was an immense number of elk
in this part of the country; in fact this was a great drawback to the
hunting, as two or more were constantly on foot at the same time, which
divided the hounds and scattered them in all directions. This made
hard work of the sport, as this locality is nothing but a series of ups
and downs. The plains, as they are termed, are composed of some
hundred grassy hills, of about a hundred feet elevation above the
river; these rise like half oranges in every direction, while a high
chain of precipitous mountains walls in one side of the view.
Forest-covered hills abound in the centre and around the skirts of the
plains, while a deep river winds in a circuitous route between the
grassy hills.
My encampment was well chosen in this romantic spot. It was a place
where you might live all your life without seeing a soul except a
wandering bee-hunter, or a native sportsman who had ventured up from
the low country to shoot an elk.
Surrounded on all sides but one with steep hills, my hunting settlement
lay snugly protected from the wind in a little valley. A small jungle
about a hundred yards square grew at the base of one of these grassy
hills, in which, having cleared the underwood for about forty yards, I
left the rarer trees standing, and erected my huts under their shelter
at the exact base of the knoll. This steep rise broke off into an
abrupt cliff about sixty yards from my tent, against which the river
had waged constant war, and, turning in an endless vortex, had worn a
deep hole, before it shot off in a rapid torrent from the angle,
dashing angrily over the rocky masses which had fallen from the
overhanging cliff, and coming to a sudden rest in a broad deep pool
within twenty yards of the tent door.
This was a delicious spot. Being snugly hidden in the jungle, there
was no sign of my encampment from the plain, except the curling blue
smoke which rose from the little hollow. A plot of grass of some two
acres formed the bottom of the valley before my habitation, at the
extremity of which the river flowed, backed on the opposite side by an
abrupt hill covered with forest and jungle.
This being a chilly part of Ceylon, I had thatched the walls of my
tent, and made a good gridiron bedstead, to keep me from the damp
ground, by means of forked upright sticks, two horizontal bars and
numerous cross-pieces. This was covered with six inches' thickness of
grass, strapped down with the bark of a fibrous shrub. My table and
bench were formed in the same manner, being of course fixtures, but
most substantial. The kitchen, huts for attendants and kennel were
close adjoining. I could have lived there all my life in fine weather.
I wish I was there now with all my heart. However, I had sufficient
bad luck on my last visit to have disgusted most people. Poor
Matchless, who was as good as her name implied, died of inflammation of
the lungs; and I started one morning in very low spirits at her loss,
hoping to cheer myself up by a good hunt.
It was not long before old Bluebeard's opening note was heard high upon
the hill-tops; but, at the same time, a portion of the pack had found
another elk, which, taking an opposite direction, of course divided
them. Being determined to stick to Bluebeard to the last, I made
straight through the jungle toward the point at which I had heard a
portion of the pack join him, intending to get upon their track and
follow up. This I soon did; and after running for some time through
the jungle, which, being young "nillho," was unmistakably crushed by
the elk and hounds, I came to a capital though newly-made path, as a
single elephant, having been disturbed by the cry of the hounds, had
started off at full speed; and the elk and hounds, naturally choosing
the easiest route through the jungle, had kept upon his track. This I
was certain of, as the elk's print sunk deep in that of the elephant,
whose dung, lying upon the spot, was perfectly hot.
I fully expected that the hounds would bring the elephant to bay, which
is never pleasant when you are without a gun; however, they did not,
but, sticking to their true game, they went straight away toward the
chain of mountains at the end of the plain. The river, in making its
exit, is checked by abrupt precipices, and accordingly makes an angle
and then descends a ravine toward the low country.
I felt sure, from the nature of the ground and the direction of the
run, that the elk would come to bay in this ravine; and, after half an
hour's run, I was delighted, on arriving on the hill above, to hear the
bay, of the bounds in the river far below.
The jungle was thick and tangled, but it did not take long, to force my
way down the steep mountain side, and I neared the spot and heard the
splashing in the river, as the elk, followed by the hounds, dashed
across just before I came in view. He had broken his bay; and,
presently, I again heard the chorus of voices as he once more came to a
stand a few hundred paces down the river.
The bamboo was so thick that I could hardly break my way through it;
and I was crashing along toward the spot, when suddenly the bay ceased,
and shortly after some of the hounds came hurrying up to me regularly
scared. Lena, who seldom showed a symptom of fear, dashed up to me in
a state of great excitement, with the deep scores of a leopard's claws
on her hindquarters. Only two couple of the hounds followed on the
elk's track; the rest were nowhere.
The elk had doubled back, and I saw old Bluebeard leading upon the
scent up the bank of the river, followed by three other bounds.
The surest, although the hardest work, was to get on the track and
follow up through the jungle. This I accordingly did for about a mile,
at which distance I arrived at a small swampy plain in the centre of
the jungle. Here, to my surprise, I saw old Bluebeard sitting up and
looking faint, covered with blood, with no other dog within view. The
truth was soon known upon examination. No less than five holes were
cut in his throat by a leopard's claws, and by the violent manner in
which the poor dog strained and choked, I felt sure that the windpipe
was injured. There was no doubt that he had received the stroke at the
same time that Lena was wounded beneath the rocky mountain when the elk
was at bay; and nevertheless, the staunch old dog had persevered in the
chase till the difficulty of breathing brought him to a standstill. I
bathed the wounds, but I knew it was his last day, poor old fellow!
I sounded the bugle for a few minutes, and having collected some of the
scattered pack I returned to the tent, leading the wounded dog, whose
breathing rapidly became more difficult. I lost no time in fomenting
and poulticing the part, but the swelling had commenced to such an
extent that there was little hope of recovery.
This was a dark day for the pack. Benton returned in the afternoon
from a search for the missing hounds, and, as he descended the deep
hill-side on approaching the tent, I saw tent he and a native were
carrying something slung upon a pole. At first I thought it was an
elk's head, which the missing hounds might have run to bay, but on his
arrival the worst was soon known.
It was poor Leopold, one of my best dogs. He was all but dead, with
hopeless wounds in his throat and belly. He had been struck by a
leopard within a few yards of Benton's side, and, with his usual pluck,
the dog turned upon the leopard in spite of his wounds, when the
cowardly brute, seeing the man, turned and fled.
That night Leopold died. The next morning Bluebeard was so bad that I
returned home with him slung in a litter between two men. Poor fellow!
he never lived to reach his comfortable kennel, but died in the litter
within a mile of home. I had him buried by the side of old Smut, and
there are no truer dogs on the earth than the two that there lie
together.
A very few weeks after Bluebeard's death, however, I got a taste of
revenge out of one of the race.
Palliser and I were out shooting, and we found a single bull elephant
asleep in the dry bed of a stream; we were stealing quietly up to him,
when his guardian spirit whispered something in his ear, and up he
jumped. However, we polished him off, and having reloaded, we passed
on.
The country consisted of low, thorny jungle and small sandy plains of
short turf, and we were just entering one of these open spots within a
quarter of a mile of the dead elephant, when we observed a splendid
leopard crouching at the far end of the glade. He was about ninety
paces from us, lying broadside on, with his head turned to the opposite
direction, evidently looking out for game. His crest was bristled up
with excitement, and he formed a perfect picture of beauty both in
color and attitude.
Halting our gun-bearers, we stalked him within sixty yards; he looked
quickly round, and his large hazel eyes shone full upon us, as the two
rifles made one report, and his white belly lay stretched upon the
ground.
They were both clean shots: Palliser had aimed at his head, and had cut
off one ear and laid the skin open at the back of the neck. My ball
had smashed both shoulders, but life was not fairly extinct. We
therefore strangled him with my necktie, as I did not wish to spoil his
hide by any further wound. This was a pleasing sacrifice to the
"manes" of old Bluebeard.
E. Palliser had at one time the luck to have a fair turn up with a
leopard with the dogs and hunting-knife. At that time he kept a pack
at Dimboola, about nine miles from my house. Old Bluebeard belonged to
him, and he had a fine dog named "Pirate," who was the heaviest and
best of his seizers.
He was out hunting with two or three friends, when suddenly a leopard
sprang from the jungle at one of the smaller hounds as they were
passing quietly along a forest path. Halloaing the pack on upon the
instant, every dog gave chase, and a short run brought him to bay in
the usual place of refuge, the boughs of a tree.
However, it so happened that there was a good supply of large sharp
stones upon the soil, and with these the whole party kept up a spirited
bombardment, until at length one lucky shot hit him on the head, and at
the same moment he fell or jumped into the middle of the pack. Here
Pirate came to the front in grand style and collared him, while the
whole pack backed him up without an exception.
There was a glorious struggle of course, which was terminated by the
long arm of our friend Palliser, who slipped the hunting-knife into him
and became a winner. This is the only instance that I know of a
leopard being run into and killed with hounds and a knife.