THE ELEPHANT (continued)
The foregoing chapter is sufficient to explain the ferocity of the male
elephant at certain seasons which periodically affect the nervous
system. It would be easy to multiply examples of this cerebral
excitement, but such repetitions are unnecessary. The fact remains that
the sexes differ materially in character, and that for general purposes
the female is preferred in a domesticated state, although the male
tusker is far more powerful, and when thoroughly trustworthy is capable
of self-defence against attack, and of energy in work that would render
it superior to the gentler but inferior female. (The female differs
from other quadrupeds in the position of her teats, which are situated
upon the breast between the fore legs. She is in the habit of caressing
her calf with her trunk during the operation of suckling.)
It may be inferred that a grand specimen of a male elephant is of rare
occurrence. A creature that combines perfection of form with a firm but
amiable disposition, and is free from the timidity which unfortunately
distinguishes the race, may be quite invaluable to any resident in
India. The actual monetary value of an elephant must of necessity be
impossible to decide, as it must depend upon the requirements of the
purchaser and the depth of his pocket. Elephants differ in price as much
as horses, and the princes of India exhibit profuse liberality in paying
large sums for animals that approach their standard of perfection.
The handsomest elephant that I have ever seen in India belongs to the
Rajah of Nandgaon, in the district bordering upon Reipore. I saw this
splendid specimen among twenty others at the Durbar of the Chief
Commissioner of the Central Provinces in December 1887, and it
completely eclipsed all others both in size and perfection of points.
The word "points" is inappropriate when applied to the distinguishing
features of an elephant, as anything approaching the angular would be
considered a blemish. An Indian elephant to be perfect should be 9 feet
6 inches in perpendicular height at the shoulder. The head should be
majestic in general character, as large as possible,--especially broad
across the forehead, and well rounded. The boss or prominence above the
trunk should be solid and decided, mottled with flesh-coloured spots;
these ought to continue upon the cheeks, and for about three feet down
the trunk. This should be immensely massive; and when the elephant
stands at ease, the trunk ought to touch the ground when the tip is
slightly curled. The skin of the face should be soft to the touch, and
there must be no indentations or bony hollows, which are generally the
sign of age. The ears should be large, the edges free from inequalities
or rents, and above all they ought to be smooth, as though they had been
carefully ironed. When an elephant is old, the top of the ear curls, and
this symptom increases with advancing years. The eyes should be large
and clear, the favourite colour a bright hazel. The tusks ought to be as
thick as possible, free from cracks, gracefully curved, very slightly to
the right and left, and projecting not less than three feet from the
lips. The body should be well rounded, without a sign of any rib. The
shoulders must be massive with projecting muscular development; the back
very slightly arched, and not sloping too suddenly towards the tail,
which should be set up tolerably high. This ought to be thick and long,
the end well furnished with a double fringe of very long thick hairs or
whalebone-looking bristles. The legs should be short in proportion to
the height of the animal, but immensely thick, and the upper- portion
above the knee ought to exhibit enormous muscle. The knees should be
well rounded, and the feet be exactly equal to half the perpendicular
height of the elephant when measured in their circumference, the weight
pressing upon them whilst standing.
The skin generally ought to be soft and pliable, by no means tight or
strained, but lying easily upon the limbs and body.
An elephant which possesses this physical development should be equal in
the various points of character that are necessary to a highly-trained
animal.
When ordered to kneel, it should obey instantly, and remain patiently
upon the ground until permitted to rise from this uneasy posture. In
reality the elephant does not actually kneel upon its fore knees, but
only upon those of the hinder legs, while it pushes its fore legs
forward and rests its tusks upon the ground. This is a most unnatural
position, and is exceedingly irksome. Some elephants are very impatient,
and they will rise suddenly without orders while the ladder is placed
against their side for mounting. Upon one occasion a badly-trained
animal jumped up so suddenly that Lady Baker, who had already mounted,
was thrown off on one side, while I, who was just on the top of the
ladder, was thrown down violently upon the other. A badly-tutored
elephant is exceedingly dangerous, as such vagaries are upon so large a
scale that a fall is serious, especially should the ground be stony.
A calm and placid nature free from all timidity is essential. Elephants
are apt to take sudden fright at peculiar sounds and sights. In
travelling through a jungle path it is impossible to foretell what
animals may be encountered on the route. Some elephants will turn
suddenly round and bolt, upon the unexpected crash of a wild animal
startled in the forest. The scent or, still worse, the roar of a bear
within 50 yards of the road will scare some elephants to an extent that
will make them most difficult of control. The danger may be imagined
should an elephant absolutely run away with his rider in a dense forest;
if the unfortunate person should be in a howdah he would probably be
swept off and killed by the intervening branches, or torn to shreds by
the tangled thorns, many of which are armed with steel-like hooks.
It is impossible to train all elephants alike, and very few can be
rendered thoroughly trustworthy; the character must be born in them if
they are to approach perfection.
Our present perfect example should be quite impassive, and should take
no apparent notice of anything, but obey his mahout with the regularity
of a machine. No noise should disturb the nerves, no sight terrify, no
attack for one moment shake the courage; even the crackling of fire
should be unheeded, although the sound of high grass blazing and
exploding before the advancing line of fire tries the nerves of
elephants more than any other danger.
An elephant should march with an easy swinging pace at the rate of 5
miles an hour, or even 6 miles within that time upon a good flat road.
As a rule, the females have an easier pace than the large males. When
the order to stop is given, instead of hesitating, the elephant should
instantly obey, remaining rigidly still without swinging the head or
flapping the ears, which is its inveterate and annoying habit. The
well-trained animal should then move backward or forward, either one or
several paces, at a sign from the mahout, and then at once become as
rigid as a rock.
Should the elephant be near a tiger, it will generally know the position
of the enemy by its keen sense of smell. If the tiger should suddenly
charge from some dense covert with the usual short but loud roars, the
elephant ought to remain absolutely still to receive the onset, and to
permit a steady aim from the person in the howdah. This is a very rare
qualification, but most necessary in a good shikar elephant. Some
tuskers will attack the tiger, which is nearly as bad a fault as running
in the opposite direction; but the generality, even if tolerably steady,
will swing suddenly upon one side, and thus interrupt the steadiness of
aim.
The elephant should never exercise its own will, but ought to wait in
all cases for the instructions of the mahout, and then obey immediately.
Such an animal, combining the proportions and the qualities I have
described, might be worth in India about / 1500 to any Indian Rajah, but
there may be some great native sportsmen who would give double that
amount for such an example of perfection, which would combine the beauty
required for a state elephant, with the high character of a shikar
animal.
Native princes and rajahs take a great pride in the trappings of their
state elephants, which is exhibited whenever any pageant demands an
extraordinary display. I have seen cloths of silk so closely embroidered
with heavy gold as to be of enormous value, and so great a weight that
two men could barely lift them. Such cloths may have been handed down
from several generations, as they are seldom used excepting in the state
ceremonies which occur at distant intervals. A high caste male elephant
in its gold trappings, with head-piece and forehead lap equally
embroidered, and large silver bells suspended from its tusks, is a
magnificent object during the display attending a durbar. At such an
occasion there may be a hundred elephants all in their finery, each
differing from the other both in size and in the colours of their
surroundings.
The outfit for an elephant depends upon the work required. The first
consideration is the protection of the back. Although the skin appears
as though it could resist all friction, it is astonishing how quickly a
sore becomes established, and how difficult this is to heal. The mahouts
are exceedingly careless, and require much supervision; the only method
to ensure attention is to hold them responsible and to deduct so many
rupees from their pay should the backs of their animals be unsound.
With proper care an elephant ought never to suffer, as the pad should be
made to fit its figure specially. The usual method is to cover the back
from the shoulders to the hips with a large quilted pad stuffed with
cotton, about 2 1/2 inches thick. In my opinion, wool is preferable to
cotton, and, instead of this coverlet being compact, there should be
an opening down the centre, to avoid all pressure upon the spine. A
quilted pad stuffed with wool, 3 inches thick, with an opening down the
middle, would rest comfortably upon the animal's back, and would
entirely relieve the highly-arched backbone, which would thus be exposed
to a free current of air, and would remain hard instead of becoming
sodden through perspiration. Upon this soft layer the large pad is
fixed. This is made of the strongest sacking, stuffed as tight as
possible with dried reeds of a tough variety that is common in most
tanks; this is open in the centre and quite a foot thick at the sides,
so that it fills up the hollow, and rests the weight upon the ribs at a
safe distance from the spine.
There are various contrivances in the shape of saddles. The ordinary
form for travelling is the char-jarma; this is an oblong frame,
exceedingly strong, which is lashed upon the pad secured by girths. It
is stuffed with cotton, and neatly covered with native cloth. A stuffed
back passes down the centre like a sofa, and two people on either side
sit dos-a-dos, as though in an Irish car. Iron rails protect the ends,
and swing foot-boards support the feet. This is, in my opinion, the most
comfortable way of riding, but some care is necessary in proportioning
the weights to ensure a tolerable equilibrium, otherwise, should the
route be up and down steep nullahs, the char-jarma will shift upon one
side, and become most disagreeable to those who find themselves on the
lower level. Natives prefer a well-stuffed pad, as they are accustomed
to sit with their legs doubled up in a manner that would be highly
uncomfortable to Europeans. Such pads are frequently covered with
scarlet cloth and gold embroidery, while the elephant is dressed in a
silk and gold cloth reaching to its knees. The face and head are painted
in various colours and devices, exhibiting great taste and skill on the
part of the designer. It is curious to observe the dexterity with which
an otherwise ignorant mahout will decorate the head of his animal by
drawing most elaborate curves and patterns, that would tax the ability
of a professional artist among Europeans.
The howdah is the only accepted arrangement for sporting purposes, and
much attention is necessary in its construction, as the greatest
strength should be combined with lightness. There ought to be no doors,
as they weaken the solidity of the whole. The weight of a good roomy
howdah should not exceed two hundredweight, or at the outside 230
pounds. It must be remembered that the howdah is not adapted for
travelling, as there is a disagreeable swinging motion inseparable from
its position upon the elephant's back which is not felt upon either the
pad or the char-jarma. The howdah is simply for shooting, as you can
fire in any direction, which is impossible from any other contrivance
where the rider sits in a constrained position.
A good howdah should be made of exceedingly strong and tough wood for
the framework, dovetailed, and screwed together, the joints being
specially secured by long corner straps of the best iron. The frame
ought to be panelled with galvanised wire of the strongest description,
the mesh being one-half inch. The top rail, of a hard wood, should be
strengthened all around the howdah by the addition of a male bamboo 1
1/2 inch in diameter, securely lashed with raw hide, so as to bind the
structure firmly together, and to afford a good grip for the hand. As
the howdah is divided into two compartments, the front being for the
shooter, and the back part for his servant, the division should be
arranged to give increased strength to the construction by the firmness
of the cross pieces, which ought to bind the sides together in forming
the middle seat; the back support of which should be a padded shield of
thick leather, about 15 inches in diameter, secured by a broad strap of
the same material to buckles upon the sides. This will give a yielding
support to the back of the occupant when sitting. The seat should lift
up, and be fitted as a locker to contain anything required; and a
well-stuffed leather cushion is indispensable. The gun-rack should be
carefully arranged to contain two guns upon the left, and one upon the
right of the sitter. These must be well and softly padded, to prevent
friction. The floor should be covered either with thick cork or
cork-matting to prevent the feet from slipping.
It must be remembered that a howdah may be subjected to the most severe
strain, especially should a tiger spring upon the head of an elephant,
and the animal exert its prodigious strength to throw off its assailant.
The irons for fastening the girths should therefore be of the toughest
quality, and, instead of actual girths, only thick ropes of cotton ought
to be used. A girth secured with a buckle is most dangerous, as, should
the buckle give way, an accident of the most alarming kind must
assuredly occur. The howdah ought to be lashed upon the elephant by six
folds of the strong cotton rope described, tightened most carefully
before starting. It should be borne in mind that much personal attention
is necessary during this operation, as the natives are most careless.
Two or three men ought to sit in the howdah during the process of
lacing, so as to press it down tightly upon the pad, otherwise it will
become loose during the march, and probably lean over to one side, which
is uncomfortable to both man and beast. A large hide of the sambur deer,
well cured and greased so as to be soft and pliable, should, invariably
protect the belly of the elephant, and the flanks under the fore legs,
from the friction of the girthing rope. The breastplate and crupper also
require attention. These ought to be of the same quality of cotton rope
as used for the girths, but that portion of the crupper which passes
beneath the tail should pass through an iron tube bent specially to fit,
like the letter V elongated, U. This is a great safeguard against
galling, and I believe it was first suggested by Mr. G. P. Sanderson.
A fine male elephant, well accoutred with his howdah thoroughly secured,
and a good mahout, is a splendid mount, and the rider has the
satisfaction of feeling that his animal is well up to his weight. I do
not know a more agreeable sensation than the start in the early morning
upon a thoroughly dependable elephant, with all the belongings in
first-rate order, and a mahout who takes a real interest in his work; a
thorough harmony exists between men and beast, the rifles are in their
places, and you feel prepared for anything that may happen during the
hazardous adventures of the day.
But how much depends upon that mahout! It is impossible for an ordinary
bystander to comprehend the secret signs which are mutually understood
by the elephant and his guide, the gentle pressure of one toe, or the
compression of one knee, or the delicate touch of a heel, or the almost
imperceptible swaying of the body to one side; the elephant detects
every movement, howsoever slight, and it is thus mysteriously guided by
its intelligence; the mighty beast obeys the unseen helm of thought,
just as a huge ship yields by apparent instinct to the insignificant
appendage which directs her course, the rudder. All good riders know the
mystery of a "good hand" upon a horse; this is a thing that is
understood, but cannot be described except by a negative. There are
persons who can sit a horse gracefully and well, but who have not the
instinctive gift of hand. The horse is aware of this almost as soon as
the rider has been seated in the saddle. In that case, whether the horse
be first-class or not, there will be no comfort for the animal, and no
ease for the rider.
If such a person puts his horse at a fence, the animal will not be
thoroughly convinced that his rider wishes him to take it. There are
more accidents occasioned by a "bad hand" than by any other cause. If
this is the case with a horse well bitted, what must be the result
should an elephant be guided by a mahout of uncertain temperament? The
great trouble when travelling on an elephant is the difficulty in
getting the mahout to obey an order immediately, and at the same time to
convey that order to the animal without the slightest hesitation.
Natives frequently hesitate before they determine the right from left.
This is exasperating to the highest degree, and is destructive to the
discipline of an elephant. There must be no uncertainty; if there is the
slightest vacillation, it will be felt instinctively in the muscles of
the rider, and the animal, instead of obeying mechanically the requisite
pressure of knee or foot, feels that the mahout does not exactly know
what he is about. This will cause the elephant to swing his head,
instead of keeping steady and obeying the order without delay. In the
same manner, when tiger-shooting, the elephant will at once detect
anything like tremor on the part of his mahout. Frequently a good
elephant may be disgraced by the nervousness of his guide, nothing being
so contagious as fear.
Although I may be an exception in the non-admiration of the elephant's
sagacity to the degree in which it is usually accepted, there is no one
who more admires or is so foolishly fond of elephants. I have killed
some hundreds in my early life, but I have learnt to regret the past,
and 1 nothing would now induce me to shoot an elephant unless it were
either a notorious malefactor, or in self-defence. There is, however, a
peculiar contradiction in the character of elephants that tends to
increase the interest in the animal. If they were all the same, there
would be a monotony; but this is never the case, either among animals or
human beings, although they may belong to one family. The elephant, on
the other hand, stands so entirely apart from all other animals, and its
performances appear so extraordinary owing to the enormous effect which
its great strength produces instantaneously, that its peculiarities
interest mankind more than any smaller animal. Yet, when we consider the
actual aptitude for learning, or the natural habits of the creature, we
are obliged to confess that in proportion to its size the elephant is a
mere fool in comparison with the intelligence of many insects. If the
elephant could form a home like the bee, and store up fodder for a
barren season; if it could build a nest of comfort like a bird, to
shelter itself from inclement weather; if it could dam up a river like
the beaver, to store water for the annual drought; if it could only,
like the ordinary squirrel or field mouse, make a store for a season of
scarcity, how marvellous we should think this creature, simply because
it is so huge! It actually does nothing remarkable, unless specially
instructed; but it is this inertia that renders it so valuable to man.
If the elephant were to be continually exerting its natural
intelligence, and volunteering all manner of gigantic performances in
the hope that they would be appreciated by its rider, it would be
unbearable; the value of the animal consists in its capacity to learn,
and in its passive demeanour, until directed by the mahout's commands.
Nothing can positively determine the character of any elephant; every
animal, I believe, varies more or less in courage according to its state
of health, which must influence the nervous system. The most courageous
man may, if weakened by sickness, be disgusted with himself by starting
at an unexpected sound, although upon ordinary occasions he would not be
affected. Animals cannot describe their feelings, and they may sometimes
feel "out of sorts" without being actually ill, but the nervous system
may be unstrung.
I once saw a ridiculous example of sudden panic in an otherwise most
dependable elephant. This was a large male belonging to the Government,
which had been lent to me for a few months, and was thoroughly staunch
when opposed to a charging tiger; in fact, I believe that Moolah Bux was
afraid of nothing, and he was the best shikar elephant I have ever
ridden. One day we were driving a rocky hill for a tiger that was
supposed to be concealed somewhere among the high grass and broken
boulders, and, as the line of beaters was advancing, I backed the
elephant into some thick jungle, which commanded an open but narrow
glade at the foot of the low hill. Only the face of the elephant was
exposed, and as this was grayish brown, something similar to the colour
of the leafless bushes, we were hardly noticeable to anything that might
break covert.
The elephant thoroughly understood the work in hand; and as the loud
yells and shouts of the beaters became nearer, Moolah Bux pricked his
ears and kept a vigilant look-out. Suddenly a hare emerged about 100
yards distant; without observing our well-concealed position it raced at
full speed directly towards us, and in a few seconds it ran almost
between the elephant's legs as it made for the protection of the jungle.
The mighty Moolah Bux fairly bolted with a sudden terror as this
harmless and tiny creature dashed beneath him, and although he recovered
himself after 5 or 6 yards, nevertheless for the moment the monster was
scared almost by a mouse.
It is this uncertainty of character that has rendered the elephant
useless for military purposes in the field since the introduction of
fire-arms. In olden times there can be no doubt that a grand array of
elephantine cavalry, with towers containing archers on their backs,
would have been an important factor when in line of battle; but
elephants are useless against fire-arms, and in our early battles with
the great hordes brought against us by the princes of India, their
elephants invariably turned tail, and added materially to the defeat of
their army.
Only a short time ago, at Munich, a serious accident was occasioned by a
display of ten or twelve elephants during some provincial fete, when
they took fright at the figure of a dragon vomiting fire, and a general
stampede was the consequence, resulting in serious injuries to fifteen
or sixteen persons.
I once had an elephant who ought to have killed me upon several
occasions through sheer panic, which induced him to run away like a
railway locomotive rushing through a forest. This was the tusker Lord
Mayo, who, although a good-tempered harmless creature, appeared to be
utterly devoid of nerves, and would take fright at anything to which it
was unaccustomed. The sound of the beaters when yelling and shouting in
driving jungle was quite sufficient to start this animal off in a
senseless panic, not always for a short distance, as on one occasion it
ran at full speed for upwards of a mile through a dense forest, in spite
of the driving-hook of the mahout, which had been applied with a maximum
severity.
It is curious to observe how all the education of an elephant appears to
vanish when once the animal takes fright and bolts for the nearest
jungle. That seems to be the one idea which is an instinct of original
nature, to retreat into the concealment of a forest.
I was on one occasion mounted upon Lord Mayo in the Balagh district when
the beaters were not dependable. A tiger had killed a bullock at the
foot of a wooded hill bordered by an open plain. As the beaters had
misbehaved upon several occasions by breaking their line, I determined
to take command of the beat in person. I therefore formed the line in
the open, with every man equidistant, there being about a hundred and
twenty villagers. I had placed my shikari with a rifle in a convenient
position about 200 yards in advance, upon a mucharn or platform that had
been constructed for myself.
Having after some trouble arranged the beaters in a proper line, I gave
the order for an advance. In an instant the shouts arose, and three or
four tom-toms added to the din.
I was mounted upon Lord Mayo near the centre of the line in the open
glade. No sooner had the noise begun, than a violent panic seized this
senseless brute, and without the slightest warning it rushed straight
ahead for the thick forest at a pace that would nearly equal that of a
luggage train. It was in vain that the mahout dug the iron spike into
its head and alternately seized its ears by the unsparing hook, away it
ran, regardless of all punishment or persuasion, until it reached the
jungle, and with a crash we entered in full career!
Fortunately there was no howdah, only a pad well secured by thick ropes.
To clutch these tightly, and to dodge the opposing branches by ducking
the head, now swinging to the right, then doubling down upon the left to
allow the bending trees to sweep across the pad, then flinging oneself
nearly over the flank to escape a bough that threatened instant
extermination; all these gymnastics were performed and repeated in a few
seconds only, as the panic-stricken brute ploughed its way, regardless
of all obstructions, which threatened every instant to sweep us off its
back. The active mahout of my other elephant, knowing the character of
Lord Mayo, had luckily accompanied us with a spear, and although at the
time I was unaware of his presence, he was exerting himself to the
utmost in a vain endeavour to overtake our runaway elephant. At first I
imagined that the great pace would soon be slackened, and that a couple
of hundred yards would exhaust the animal's wind, especially as the
ground was slightly rising. Instead of this, it was going like a
steam-engine, and if there had been the usual amount of thorny creepers
we should have been torn to pieces.
" Keep him straight for the hill," I shouted, as I saw we were
approaching an inclination. "Don't let him turn to right or left, keep
his head straight for the steep ground;" and the mahout, who had been
yelling for assistance, and had lost both his turban and skull-cap, did
all that he could by tunnelling into the brute's head with his
formidable hook to direct it straight up the hill. I never knew an
elephant go at such a pace over rocky ground. Young trees were smashed
down, some branches torn, others bent forward, which swung backwards
with dangerous force, and yet on we tore without a sign of diminishing
speed. How I longed for an anchor to have brought up our runaway ship
head to wind! We had the coupling chains upon the pad, and my
interpreter, Modar Bux, at length succeeded in releasing these, and in
throwing them down for any person following to make use of. After a run
of quite half a mile, we fortunately arrived at a really steep portion
of the hill, where the rocks were sufficiently large to present a
difficulty to any runaway. The mahout who had been following our course,
breathless and with bleeding feet, here overtook us. Placing himself in
advance of the elephant, who seemed determined to continue its flight
among the rocks, he dug the spear deep into the animal's trunk, and kept
repeating the apparently cruel thrusts until at length it stopped.
Several men now arrived with the coupling chains, which were at length
with difficulty adjusted, and the elephant's fore legs were shackled
together. It was curious to observe the dexterous manner in which it
resisted this operation, and had it not been for the dread of the spear
I much doubt whether it could have been accomplished.
This was the first time that I had experienced a runaway elephant, but I
soon found that both my steeds were equally untrustworthy. A few weeks
after this event we had completed the morning's march and found the camp
already prepared for our arrival, at a place called Kassli, which is a
central depot for railway sleepers as they are received from the native
contractors. These were carefully piled in squares of about twenty each,
and covered a considerable area of ground at intervals. A large ox had
died that morning, and as it was within 50 yards of the tent it was
necessary to remove it; the vultures were already crowded in the
surrounding trees waiting for its decomposition. As usual, none of the
natives would defile themselves by touching the dead body. I accordingly
gave orders that one of the elephants should drag it about a mile down
wind away from the camp. Lord Mayo was brought to the spot, and the
sweeper, being of a low caste, attached a very thick rope to the hind
legs of the ox; the other end being made fast to the elephant's pad in
such a manner as to form traces. The elephant did not exhibit the
slightest interest in the proceeding, and everything was completed, the
body of the ox being about 6 or 7 yards behind.
No sooner did Lord Mayo move forward in obedience to the mahout's
command, and feel the tug of the weight attached, than he started off in
a panic at a tremendous pace, dragging the body through the lanes
between the piles of sleepers, upsetting them, and sending them flying
in all directions, as the dead ox caught against the corners; and,
helter-skelter, he made for the nearest jungle about 300 yards distant.
Fortunately some wood-cutters were there, who yelled and screamed to
turn him back; but although this had the effect of driving him from the
forest, he now started over the plain down hill, dragging the heavy ox
behind as though it had been a rabbit, and going at such a pace that
none of the natives could overtake him, although by this time at least
twenty men were in full pursuit.
The scene was intensely ridiculous, and the whole village turned out to
enjoy the fun of a runaway elephant with a dead ox bounding over the
inequalities of the ground; no doubt Lord Mayo imagined that he was
being hunted by the carcase which so persistently followed him wherever
he went. There was no danger to the driver, as the elephant was kept
away from the forest. The ground became exceedingly rough and full of
holes from the soakage during the rainy season. This peculiar soil is
much disliked by elephants, as the surface is most treacherous, and
cavernous hollows caused by subterranean water action render it unsafe
for the support of such heavy animals. The resistance of the dead ox,
which constantly jammed in the abrupt depressions, began to tell upon
the speed, and in a short time the elephant was headed, and surrounded
by a mob of villagers. I was determined that he should now be compelled
to drag the carcase quietly in order to accustom him to the burden; we
therefore attached the coupling chains to his fore legs, and drove him
gently, turning him occasionally to enable him to inspect the carcase
that had smitten him with panic. In about twenty minutes he became
callous, and regarded the dead body with indifference.
Although an elephant is capable of great speed, it cannot jump, neither
can it lift all four legs off the ground at the same time; this
peculiarity renders it impossible to cross any ditch with hard
perpendicular sides that will not crumble or yield to pressure, if such
a ditch should be wider than the limit of the animal's extreme pace. If
the limit of a pace should be 6 feet, a 7-foot ditch would effectually
stop an elephant.
Although the strength of an elephant is prodigious whenever it is fully
exerted, it is seldom that the animal can be induced to exhibit the
maximum force which it possesses. A rush of a herd of elephants, with a
determined will against the enclosure of palisades used for their
capture would probably break through the barrier, but they do not appear
to know their strength, or to act together. This want of cohesion is a
sufficient proof that in a wild state they are not so sagacious as they
have been considered. I do not describe the kraal or keddah, which is so
well known by frequent descriptions as the most ancient and practical
method of capturing wild elephants; but although in Ceylon the kraal has
been used from time immemorial, the Singhalese are certainly behind the
age as compared with the great keddah establishments of India. In the
latter country there is a ditch inside the palisaded enclosure, which
prevents the elephants from exerting their force against the structure;
in Ceylon this precaution is neglected, and the elephants have
frequently effected a breach in the palisade. In Ceylon all the old
elephants captured within the kraal or keddah are considered worthless,
and only those of scarcely full growth are valued; in India, all
elephants irrespective of their age are valued, and the older animals
are as easily domesticated as the young.
The keddah establishment at Dacca is the largest in India, and during
the last season, under the superintendence of Mr. G. P. Sanderson, 404
elephants were captured in the Garo Hills, 132 being taken in one drive.
It is difficult to believe that any district can continue to produce
upon this wholesale scale, and it is probable that after a few years
elephants will become scarce in the locality. Nevertheless there is a
vast tract of forest extending into Burmah, and the migratory habits of
the elephant at certain seasons may continue the supply, especially if
certain fruits or foliage attract them to the locality.
This migratory instinct is beyond our powers of explanation in the case
of either birds, beasts, or fishes. How they communicate, in order to
organise the general departure, must remain a mystery. It is well known
that in England, previous to the departure of the swallows, they may be
seen sitting in great numbers upon the telegraph wires as though
discussing the projected journey; in a few days after, there is not a
swallow to be seen.
I once, and only once, had an opportunity of seeing elephants that were
either migrating, or had just arrived from a migration. This was between
3 degrees and 4 degrees N. latitude in Africa, between Obbo and Farajok.
We were marching through an uninhabited country for about 30 miles, and
in the midst of beautiful park-like scenery we came upon the magnificent
sight of vast herds of elephants. These were scattered about the country
in parties varying in numbers from ten to a hundred, while single bulls
dotted the landscape with their majestic forms in all directions. In
some places there were herds of twenty or thirty entirely composed of
large tuskers; in other spots were parties of females with young ones
interspersed, of varying growths, and this grand display of elephantine
life continued for at least 2 miles in length as we rode parallel with
the groups at about a quarter of a mile distant. It would have been
impossible to guess the number, as there was no regularity in their
arrangement, neither could I form any idea of the breadth of the area
that was occupied. I have often looked back upon that extraordinary
scene, and it occurred to me forcibly in after years, when I had 3200
elephants' tusks in one station of Central Africa, which must have
represented 1600 animals slain for their fatal ivory.
The day must arrive when ivory will be a production of the past, as it
is impossible that the enormous demand can be supplied. I have already
explained that the African savage never tames a wild animal, neither
does he exhibit any sympathy or pity, his desire being, like the gunner
of the nineteenth century, to exterminate. It may be readily imagined
that wholesale destruction is the result whenever some favourable
opportunity delivers a large herd of elephants into the native hands.
There are various methods employed for trapping, or otherwise
destroying. Pitfalls are the most common, as they are simple, and
generally fatal. Elephants are thirsty creatures, and when in large
herds they make considerable roads in their passage towards a river.
They are nearly always to be found upon the same track when nightly
approaching the usual spot for drinking or for a bath. It is therefore a
simple affair to intercept their route by a series of deep pitfalls dug
exactly in the line of their advance. These holes vary in shape; the
circular are, I believe, the most effective, as the elephant falls head
downwards, but I have seen them made of different shapes and proportions
according to the individual opinions of the trappers.
It is exceedingly dangerous, when approaching a river, to march in
advance of a party without first sending forward a few natives to
examine the route in front. The pits are usually about 12 or 14 feet in
depth. These are covered over with light wood, and crossed with slight
branches or reeds, upon which is laid some long dry grass; this is
covered lightly with soil, upon which some elephant's dung is scattered,
as though the animal had dropped it during the action of walking. A
little broken grass is carelessly distributed upon the surface, and the
illusion is complete. The night arrives, and the unsuspecting elephants,
having travelled many miles of thirsty wilderness, hurry down the
incline towards the welcome river. Crash goes a leading elephant into a
well-concealed pitfall! To the right and left the frightened members of
the herd rush at the unlooked-for accident, but there are many other
pitfalls cunningly arranged to meet this sudden panic, and several more
casualties may arise, which add to the captures on the following
morning, when the trappers arrive to examine the position of their pits.
The elephants are then attacked with spears while in their helpless
position, until they at length succumb through loss of blood.
There is another terrible method of destroying elephants in Central
Africa. During the dry season, when the withered herbage from 10 to 14
feet in height is most inflammable, a large herd of elephants may be
found in the middle of such high grass that they can only be perceived
should a person be looking down from some elevated point. If they should
be espied by some native hunter, he would immediately give due notice to
the neighbourhood, and in a short time the whole population would
assemble for the hunt. This would be arranged by forming a circle of
perhaps 2 miles in diameter, and simultaneously firing the grass so as
to create a ring of flames around the centre. An elephant is naturally
afraid of fire, and it has an instinctive horror of the crackling of
flames when the grass has been ignited. As the circle of fire contracts
in approaching the encircled herd, they at first attempt retreat until
they become assured of their hopeless position; they at length become
desperate, being maddened by fear, and panic-stricken by the wild shouts
of the thousands who have surrounded them. At length, half-suffocated by
the dense smoke, and terrified by the close approach of the roaring
flames, the unfortunate animals charge recklessly through the fire,
burnt and blinded, to be ruthlessly speared by the bloodthirsty crowd
awaiting this last stampede. Sometimes a hundred or more elephants are
simultaneously destroyed in this wholesale slaughter. The flesh is then
cut into long strips and dried, every portion of the animal being smoked
upon frames of green wood, and the harvest of meat is divided among the
villages which have contributed to the hunt. The tusks are also shared,
a certain portion belonging by right to the various headmen and the
chief.
When man determines to commence war with the animal kingdom the result
must be disastrous to the beasts, if the human destroyers are in
sufficient numbers to ensure success. Although fire-arms may not be
employed, the human intelligence must always overpower the brute
creation, but man must exist in numerical superiority if the wild beasts
are to be fairly vanquished by a forced retreat from the locality. From
my own observation I have concluded that wild animals of all kinds will
withstand the dangers of traps, pitfalls, fire, and the usual methods
for their destruction employed by savages, but they will be rapidly
cleared out of an extensive district by the use of fire-arms. There is a
peculiar effect in the report of guns which appears to excite the
apprehension of danger in the minds of all animals. This is an
extraordinary instance of the general intelligence of wild creatures, as
they must be accustomed to the reports of thunder since the day of their
birth. Nevertheless they draw a special distinction between the loud
peal of thunder and the comparatively innocent explosion of a fire-arm.
Many years ago in Ceylon I devoted particular attention to this subject,
especially as it affects the character of elephants. How those creatures
manage to communicate with each other it is impossible to determine, but
the fact remains that a very few days' shooting will clear out an
extensive district, although the area may comprise a variation of open
prairie with a large amount of forest. I have frequently observed, in
the portion of Ceylon known as the Park country, the tracks of elephants
in great numbers which have evidently been considerable herds that have
joined together in a general retreat from ground which they considered
insecure. In that district I have arrived at the proper season, when the
grass after burning has grown to the height of about 2 feet, and it has
literally been alive with elephants. In a week my late brother General
Valentine Baker and myself shot thirty-two, and I sent a messenger to
invite a friend to join us, in the expectation of extraordinary sport.
Upon his arrival after five or six days, there was not an elephant in
the country, excepting two or three old single bulls which always
infested certain spots.
The reports of so many heavy rifles, which of necessity were fired every
evening at dusk in the days of muzzle-loaders, for the sake of cleaning,
must have widely alarmed the country, but independently of this special
cause there can be no doubt that after a few days' heavy shooting, the
elephants will combine in some mysterious manner and disappear from an
extensive district. In many ways these creatures are perplexing to the
student of natural history. It would occur to most people that in
countries where elephants abound we should frequently meet with those
that are sick, or so aged that they cannot accompany the herd. Although
for very many years I have hunted both in Asia and Africa I have never
seen a sick elephant in a wild state, neither have I ever come across an
example of imbecility through age. It is rarely we discover a dead
elephant that has not met with a violent death, and only once in my life
have I by accident found the remains of a tusker with the large tusks
intact. This animal had been killed in a fight, as there were
unmistakable signs of a fearful struggle, the ground being trodden
deeply in all directions.
It is supposed by the natives that when an elephant is mortally sick it
conceals itself in the thickest and most secluded portion of the jungle,
to die in solitude. Most animals have the same instinct, which induces
them to seek the shelter of some spot remote from all disturbance; and
should we find their remains, it will be near water, where the thirst of
disease has been assuaged at the last moment. The ox tribe are subject
to violent epidemics, and I have not only found the bodies of buffaloes
in great numbers upon occasions during some malignant murrain, but they
have been scattered throughout the country in all directions, causing a
frightful stench, and probably extending the infection. A few years ago
there was an epidemic among the bisons in the Reipore district of India;
this spread into neighbouring districts over a large extent of country,
and caused fearful ravages, but none of the deer tribe were attacked,
the disease being confined specially to the genus Bos. There are
interesting proofs of the specific poison of certain maladies which are
limited in their action to a particular class of animal. We find the
same in vegetable diseases, where a peculiar insect will attack a
distinct family of plants, or where a special variety of fungoid growth
exerts a similar baneful influence.
Wounded elephants have a marvellous power of recovery when in their wild
state, although they have no gift of surgical knowledge, their simple
system being confined to plastering their wounds with mud, or blowing
dust upon the surface. Dust and mud comprise the entire pharmacopoeia of
the elephant, and this is applied upon the most trivial as well as upon
the most serious occasion. If an elephant has a very slight sore back,
it will quickly point out the tender part by blowing dust with its
trunk upon the spot which it cannot reach. Should the mahout have
seriously punished the crown with the cruel driving-hook, the elephant
applies dust at the earliest opportunity. I have seen them, when in a
tank, plaster up a bullet-wound with mud taken from the bottom. This
application is beneficial in protecting the wound from the attack of
flies. The effect of these disgusting insects is quite shocking when an
unfortunate animal becomes fly-blown, and is literally consumed by
maggots. An elephant possesses a wonderful superiority over all other
animals in the trunk, which can either reach the desired spot directly,
or can blow dust upon it when required. All shepherds in England
appreciate the difficulty when their sheep are attacked by flies, but
they can be relieved by the human hand; a wild animal, on the contrary,
has no alleviation, and it must eventually succumb to its misery. There
is a peculiar fly in most tropical climates, but more especially in
Ceylon, which lays live maggots, instead of eggs that require some time
to hatch. These are the most dreadful pests, as the lively young maggots
exhibit a horrible activity in commencing their work the instant they
see the light; they burrow almost immediately into the flesh, and grow
to a large size within twenty-four hours, occasioning the most loathsome
sores. The best cure for any wound thus attacked, and swarming with live
maggots, is a teaspoonful of calomel applied and rubbed into the deep
sore.
I have seen the Arabs in the Soudan adopt a most torturing remedy when a
camel has suffered from a fly-blown sore back. Upon one occasion I saw a
camel kneeling upon the ground with a number of men around it, and I
found that it was to undergo a surgical operation for a terrible wound
upon its hump. This was a hole as large and deep as an ordinary
breakfast-cup, which was alive with maggots. The operator had been
preparing a quantity of glowing charcoal, which was at a red heat. This
was contained in a piece of broken chatty, a portion of a water jar, and
it was dexterously emptied into the diseased cavity on the camel's back.
The poor creature sprang to its feet, and screaming with agony, dashed
at full gallop across the desert in a frantic state, with the fire
scorching its flesh, and doubtless making it uncomfortable for the
maggots. Fire is the Arabs' vade mecum; the actual cautery is deeply
respected, and is supposed to be infallible. If internal inflammation
should attack the patient, the surface is scored with a red-hot iron.
Should guinea-worm be suspected, there is no other course to pursue than
to burn the suffering limb in a series of spots with a red-hot iron
ramrod. The worm will shortly make its appearance at one of these
apertures after some slight inflammation and suppuration. This fearful
complaint is termed Frendeet in the Soudan, and it is absorbed into the
system generally by drinking foul water. At the commencement of the
rainy season, when the ground has been parched by the long drought of
summer, the surface-water drains into the hollows and forms muddy pools.
The natives shun such water, as it is almost certain to contain the eggs
of the guinea-worm. These in some mysterious manner are hatched within
the body if swallowed in the act of drinking, and whether they develop
in the stomach or in the intestines, it is difficult to determine, but
the result is the same. The patient complains of rheumatic pains in one
limb; this increases until the leg or arm swells to a frightful extent,
accompanied by severe inflammation and great torment. The Arab
practitioner declares that the worm is at work, and is seeking for a
means of escape from the body. He accordingly burns half a dozen holes
with a red-hot iron or ramrod. In a few days the head of the guinea-worm
appears; it is immediately captured by a finely-split reed, and by
degrees is wound like a cotton thread by turning the reed every day.
This requires delicate manipulation, otherwise the worm might break, and
a portion remain in the flesh, which would increase the inflammation. An
average guinea-worm would be about three feet in length. Animals do not
appear to suffer from this complaint, although they are subject to the
attacks of great varieties of parasites. Elephants are frequently
troubled with internal worms. I witnessed a curious instance of the
escape of such insects from the stomach through a hole caused by a
bullet, nevertheless the animal appeared to be in good condition.
It was a fine moonlight night on the borders of Abyssinia that I sat up
to watch the native crops, which were a great attraction to the wild
elephants, although there was no heavy jungle nearer than 20 miles. It
was the custom of these animals to start after sunset, and to arrive at
about ten o'clock in the vast dhurra fields of the Arabs, who, being
without fire-arms, could only scare them by shouts and flaming torches.
The elephants did not care much for this kind of disturbance, and they
merely changed their position from one portion of the cultivated land to
another more distant, and caused serious destruction to the crop
(Sorghum vulgare), which was then nearly ripe. The land was rich, and
the dhurra grew 10 or 12 feet high, with stems as thick as sugar-cane,
while the large heads of corn contained several thousand grains the size
of a split-pea. This was most tempting food for elephants, and they
travelled nightly the distance named to graze upon the crops, and then
retreated before sunrise to their distant jungles.
I do not enjoy night shooting, but there was no other way of assisting
the natives, therefore I found myself watching, in the silent hours of
night, in the middle of a perfect sea of cultivation, unbroken for many
miles. There is generally a calm during the night, and there was so
perfect a stillness that it was almost painful, the chirp of an insect
sounding as loud as though it were a bird. At length there was a distant
sound like wind, or the rush of a stream over a rocky bed. This might
have been a sudden gust, but the sharp crackling of brittle dhurra stems
distinctly warned us that elephants had invaded the field, and that they
were already at their work of destruction.
As the dhurra is sown in parallel rows about 3 feet apart, and the
ground was perfectly flat, there was no difficulty in approaching the
direction whence the cracking of the dhurra could be distinctly heard.
The elephants appeared to be feeding towards us with considerable
rapidity, and in a few minutes I heard the sound of crunching within 50
yards of me. I immediately ran along the clear passage between the tall
stems, and presently saw a black form close to me as it advanced in the
next alley to my own. I do not think I was more than 4 or 5 yards from
it when it suddenly turned its head to the right, and I immediately took
a shot behind the ear. I had a white paper sight upon the muzzle of the
large rifle (No. 10), which was plainly distinguished in the bright
moonlight, and the elephant fell stone dead without the slightest
struggle.
After some delay from the dispersion of my men who carried spare guns, I
re-loaded, and followed in the direction which the herd had taken.
Although upon the "qui vive," they had not retreated far, as they were
unaccustomed to guns, and they were determined to enjoy their supper
after the long march of 20 miles to the attractive dhurra fields. I came
up with them about three-quarters of a mile from the first shot; here
there was the limit of cultivation, and all was wild prairie land; they
had retreated by the way they had arrived, with the intention, no doubt,
of returning again to the dhurra when the disturbing cause should have
disappeared. I could see the herd distinctly as they stood in a compact
body numbering some ten or twelve animals. The only chance was to run
straight at them in order to get as near as possible before they should
start, as I expected they would, in panic. Accordingly I ran forward,
when, to my surprise, two elephants rushed towards me, and I was obliged
to fire right and left. One fell to the ground for a moment, but
recovered; the other made no sign, except by whirling round and joining
the herd in full retreat.
That night I used a double-barrel muzzle-loader (No. 10), with conical
bullet made of 12 parts lead, 1 part quicksilver, 7 drams of powder.
Some days later we heard native reports concerning an elephant that had
been seen badly wounded, and very lame.
Forty-two days after this incident I had moved camp to a place called
Geera, 22 miles distant. It was a wild uninhabited district at that time
on the banks of the Settite river, with the most impervious jungle of
hooked thorns, called by the Arabs "kittul." This tree does not grow
higher than twenty-five feet, but it spreads to a very wide flat-topped
head, the branches are thick, the wood immensely strong and hard, while
the thorns resemble fish-hooks minus the barb. This impenetrable asylum
was the loved resort of elephants, and it was from this particular
station that they made their nocturnal raids upon the cultivated
district more than 20 miles distant in a direct line.
We slept out that night upon the sandy bed of a small stream, which at
that season of great heat had evaporated. Upon waking on the following
morning we found the blankets wet through with the heavy dew, and the
pillows soaking. Having arranged the camp, I left Lady Baker to give the
necessary orders, while I took my rifles and a few good men for a
reconnaissance of the neighbourhood.
The river ran through cliffs of rose-coloured limestone; this soon
changed to white; and we proceeded down stream examining the sandy
portions of the bed for tracks of game that might have passed during the
preceding night. After about a mile we came upon tracks of elephants,
which had apparently come down to drink at our side of the river, and
had then returned, I felt sure, to the thorny asylum named Tuleet.
There was no other course to pursue but to follow on the tracks; this we
did until we arrived at the formidable covert to which I have alluded.
It was impossible to enter this except at certain places where wild
animals had formed a narrow lane, and in one of these by-ways we
presently found ourselves, sometimes creeping, sometimes walking, but
generally adhering firmly every minute to some irrepressible branch of
hooked thorns, which gave us a pressing invitation to "wait a bit." In
a short time we found evident signs that the elephants were near at
hand. The natives thrust their naked feet into the fresh dung to see if
it was still warm. This was at length the case, and we advanced with
extra care. The jungle became so thick that it was almost impossible to
proceed. I wore a thick flaxen shirt which would not tear. This had
short sleeves, as I was accustomed to bare arms from a few inches above
the elbow. Not only my shirt, but the tough skin of my arms was every
now and then hooked up fast by these dreadful thorns, and at last it
appeared impossible to proceed. Just at that moment there was a sudden
rush, a shrill trumpet, and the jungle crashed around us in magnificent
style to those who enjoy such excitement, and a herd of elephants dashed
through the dense thicket and consolidated themselves into a mighty
block as they endeavoured to force down the tough thorny mass ahead of
them. This was a grand opportunity to run in, but a phalanx of opposing
rumps like the sterns of Dutch vessels in a crowd rendered it impossible
to shoot, or to pass ahead of the perplexed animals. A female elephant
suddenly wheeled round, and charged straight into us; fortunately I
killed her with a forehead shot exactly below the boss or projection
above the trunk. I now took a spare rifle, the half-pounder, and fired
into the flank of the largest elephant in the herd, just behind the last
rib, the shot striking obliquely, thus aimed to reach the lungs, as I
could not see any of the fore portion of the body.
The dense compressed thorny mass of jungle offered such resistance that
it was some time before it gave way before the united pressure of these
immense animals. At length it yielded as the herd crashed through, but
it then closed again upon us and made following impossible. However, we
felt sure that the elephant I had hit with the half-pound explosive
shell would die, and after creeping through upon the tracks with the
greatest difficulty for about 150 yards, we found it lying dead upon its
side.
The whole morning was occupied in cutting up the flesh and making a
post-mortem examination. We found the inside partially destroyed by the
explosive shell, which had shattered the lungs, but there was an old
wound still open where a bullet had entered the chest, and missing the
heart and lungs in an oblique course, it had passed through the stomach,
then through the cavity of the body beneath the ribs and flank, and had
penetrated the fleshy mass inside the thigh. In that great resisting
cushion of strong muscles the bullet had expended its force, and found
rest from its extraordinary course of penetration. After some trouble, I
not only traced its exact route, but I actually discovered the
projectile embedded in a foul mass of green pus, which would evidently
have been gradually absorbed without causing serious damage to the
animal. To my surprise, it was my own No. 10 two-groove conical bullet,
composed of twelve parts lead and one of quicksilver, which I had fired
when this elephant had advanced towards me at night, forty-two days ago,
and 22 miles, as far as I could ascertain, from the spot where I had now
killed it. The superior size of this animal to the remainder of the herd
had upon both occasions attracted my special attention, hence the fact
of selection, but I was surprised that any animal should have recovered
from such a raking shot. The cavity of the body abounded with hairy
worms about 2 inches in length. These had escaped from the stomach
through the two apertures made by the bullet; and upon an examination of
the contents, I found a great number of the same parasites crawling
among the food, while others were attached to the mucous membrane of the
paunch. This fact exhibits the recuperative power of an elephant in
recovering from a severe internal injury.
The natives of Central Africa have a peculiar method of destroying them,
by dropping a species of enormous dagger from the branch of a tree. The
blade of this instrument is about 2 feet in length, very sharp on both
edges, and about 3 inches in width at the base. It is secured in a
handle about 18 inches long, the top of which is knobbed; upon this
extremity a mass of well-kneaded tenacious clay mixed with chopped straw
is fixed, weighing 10 or 12 lbs., or even more. When a large herd of
elephants is discovered in a convenient locality, the hunt is thus
arranged:--A number of men armed with these formidable drop-spears or
daggers ascend all the largest and most shady trees throughout the
neighbouring forest. In a great hunt there may be some hundred trees
thus occupied. When all is arranged, the elephants are driven and forced
into the forest, to which they naturally retreat as a place of refuge.
It is their habit to congregate beneath large shady trees when thus
disturbed, in complete ignorance of the fact that the assassins are
already among the branches. When an elephant stands beneath a tree thus
manned, the hunter drops his weighted spearhead so as to strike the back
just behind the shoulder. The weight of the clay lump drives the sharp
blade up to the hilt, as it descends from a height of 10 or 12 feet
above the animal. Sometimes a considerable number may be beneath one
tree, in which case several may be speared in a similar manner. This
method of attack is specially fatal, as the elephants, in retreating
through the forest, brush the weighted handle of the spear-blade against
the opposing branches; these act as levers in cutting the inside of the
animal by every movement of the weapon, and should this be well centred
in the back there is no escape.
There is no animal that is more persistently pursued than the elephant,
as it affords food in wholesale supply to the Africans, who consume the
flesh, while the hide is valuable for shields; the fat when boiled down
is highly esteemed by the natives, and the ivory is of extreme value. No
portion of the animal is wasted in Africa, although in Ceylon the
elephant is considered worthless, and is allowed to rot uselessly upon
the ground where it fell to die.
The professional hunters that are employed by European traders shoot the
elephant with enormous guns, or rifles, which are generally rested upon
a forked stick driven into the ground. In this manner they approach to
about 50 yards' distance, and fire, if possible simultaneously, two
shots behind the shoulder. If these shots are well placed, the elephant,
if female, will fall at once, but if a large male, it will generally run
for perhaps 100 or more yards until it is forced to halt, when it
quickly falls, and dies from suffocation, if the lungs are pierced.
The grandest of all hunters are the Hamran Arabs, upon the Settite
river, on the borders of Abyssinia, who have no other weapon but the
heavy two-edged sword. I gave an intimate account of these wonderful
Nimrods many years ago in the _Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia_, but it is
impossible to treat upon the elephant without some reference to these
extraordinary people.
Since I visited that country in 1861, the published account of those
travels attracted several parties of the best class of ubiquitous
Englishmen, and I regret to hear that all those mighty hunters who
accompanied me have since been killed in the desperate hand-to-hand
encounters with wild elephants. Their life is a constant warfare with
savage beasts, therefore it may be expected that the termination is a
death upon their field of battle, invariably sword in hand.
James Bruce, the renowned African traveller of the last century, was the
first to describe the Agagheers of Abyssinia, and nothing could be more
graphic than his description both of the people and the countries they
inhabit, through which I have followed in Bruce's almost forgotten
footsteps, with the advantage of possessing his interesting book as my
guide wheresoever I went in 1861. Since that journey, the deplorable
interference of England in Egypt which resulted in the abandonment of
the Soudan and the sacrifice of General Gordon at Khartoum has
completely severed the link of communication that we had happily
established established, which had laid the foundations for future
civilisation. The splendid sword-hunters of the Hamran Arabs, who were
our friends in former days, have been converted into enemies by the
meddling of the British Government with affairs which they could not
understand. It is painful to look back to the past, when Lady Baker and
myself, absolutely devoid of all escort, passed more than twelve months
in exploring the wildest portions of the Soudan, attended only by one
Egyptian servant, assisted by some Arab boys which we picked up in the
desert among the Arab tribes. In those days the name of England was
respected, although not fairly understood. There was a vague impression
in the Arab mind that it was the largest country upon earth; that its
Government was the emblem of perfection; that the military power of the
country was overwhelming (having conquered India); and that the English
people always spoke the truth, and never forsook their friends in the
moment of distress. There was also an idea that England was the only
European Power which regarded the Mussulmans with a friendly eye, and
that, were it not for British protection, the Russians would eat the
Sultan and overthrow the mosques, to trample upon the Mahommedan power
in Constantinople. England was therefore regarded as the friend and the
ally of the Mahommedans; it was known that we had together fought
against the Russians, and it was believed that we were always ready to
fight in the same cause when called upon by the Sultan. All British
merchandise was looked upon as the ne plus ultra of purity and
integrity; there could be no doubt of the quality of goods, provided
that they were of English manufacture.
An Englishman cannot show his face among those people at the present
day. The myth has been exploded. The golden image has been scratched,
and the potter's clay beneath has been revealed. This is a terrible
result of clumsy management. We have failed in every way. Broken faith
has dissipated our character for sincerity, and our military operations
have failed to attain their object, resulting in retreat upon every
side, to be followed up even to the seashores of the Red Sea by an enemy
that is within range of our gun-vessels at Souakim. This is a
distressing change to those who have received much kindness and passed
most agreeable days among the Arab tribes of the Soudan deserts, and I
look back with intense regret to the errors we have committed, by which
the entire confidence has been destroyed which formerly was associated
with the English name. The countries which we opened by many years of
hard work and patient toil throughout the Soudan, even through the
extreme course of the White Nile to its birthplace in the equatorial
regions, have been abandoned by the despotic order of the British
Government, influenced by panic instead of policy; telegraphic lines
which had been established in the hitherto barbarous countries of
Kordofan, Darfur, the Blue Nile territories of Senaar, and throughout
the wildest deserts of Nubia to Khartoum have all been abandoned to the
rebels, who under proper management should have become England's
friends.
This has been our civilising influence (?), by which we have broken down
the work of half a century, and produced the most complete anarchy where
five-and-twenty years ago a lady could travel in security. England
entered Egypt in arms to _re-establish the authority of the Khedive!_ We
have dislocated his Empire, and forsaken the Soudan.