a woman, and I could not kill a woman, though both she and the other
had entreated me to do so a hundred times, for the fatigue and hunger
and sleeplessness I subjected them to had made such a horror of their
lives, that, curs as they were, death seemed preferable. Moreover I
never ceased to remind them of their hellish deeds, and I embittered
their every hour by recalling to them how I had waited for those hours,
and of their certain deaths.
"While I hesitated, his master the devil put it into the Nana's head to
help me. He saw and divined my hesitation.
"One day he stood before me, gaunt and starving.
"'You cannot kill her,' he said.
"'No,' I replied, 'she is a woman.'
"A hideous sneer made his gaunt jaws horrible.
"'I will kill her if you will let me go.'
"There he was, devil to the last. He trembled with the eagerness of
anticipated freedom.
"'Go,' I said. He hesitated, but my look was firm, and he went.
"Once or twice since their fat was gone they had attempted to escape,
but the last time I lashed the man unmercifully, and said if they tried
to escape again I would let the panther deal with them. That cowed them
thoroughly, and thenceforward they hung on every glance of my eye.
"But their enforced marchings were no longer such a terror as they had
been, and I determined to make an end. But while I thought of it he
came before me again.
"'Master,' he said, 'let me kill her; give me my life for hers.'
"I did not reply, neither did my glance forbid him. I could only think
of Margaret, with the blood on her fair hair. I turned from him without
a word.
"'Master,' he said again, 'will you set me free if I do?'
"He turned and left me. I sat on the river bank and waited. In half an
hour he returned and said--
"'Master, come and see.' And I followed him to a small open space in
the jungle. What had been the Begum, lay there cold and still. The
arch-villain had strangled her.
"I made a sign to the panther. With a bound he was on him; and the
head that had conceived the horrors of Cawnpore cracked between the
panther's teeth. My vengeance was complete.
"After that, it seems, I must have wandered for years, until you found
me. I remember nothing, except that the panther was always with me."
* * * * *
When he had finished his story he lay back and closed his eyes, and
then sank into a stupor. From this all the Subaltern's medicinal arts
could not rouse him.
The next day at dawn he cried out, and they all ran to him.
"Carry me to the jungle edge," he said, "the end has come."
They carried him, and laid him on a mattress, for he could not stand.
Then he raised his voice in a shrill and piercing cry, that echoed
through the jungle.
A dead silence followed.
Then again, as if in an expiring effort, he raised another cry, louder
and shriller, and more prolonged than the other.
Then, far off in the gloomy depths of the jungle, a dull muffled roar
responded.
They waited, and once again Gascoyne sent up the cry.
Then the leaves of the jungle parted, and a panther, black and mangy,
but with the fierce light still alive in the topaz eyes, bounded to the
side of the recumbent figure, and began to lick its face, snarling at
the three men.
Gascoyne lifted his hand, and the great beast crouched beside him.
And so the group remained while a man might have counted twenty. Then
Gascoyne raised himself, and stretched out his arms, as if to someone
at the foot of his couch, "Madge, Madge," he cried hoarsely, "I am
coming," and so fell back and moved no more.
* * * * *
They buried him that evening with the panther, which they had been
compelled to shoot.
It was very old, its teeth and claws were worn to stumps; and how they
had lived together, and whether the beast had hunted for the man, or
the man for the beast, none ever knew.
[Illustration: "GASCOYNE LIFTED HIS HAND, AND THE GREAT BEAST CROUCHED
BESIDE HIM."]
THE MOST REMARKABLE FORTRESS IN THE WORLD.
SOME ADVENTURES IN SCALING ITS WALLS.
BY PERCY L. PARKER.
[Illustration: SHOWING HOW THE FORTRESS IS ASCENDED AND THE GROOVES
WHERE THE GALLERY RAN.]
Perhaps the most remarkable rock in the world is to be found in the
centre of the Island of Ceylon, and its story is full of romance. It was
fortified 1,400 years ago to shelter a cowardly parricide, and when
he died it became a Buddhist monastery. But for centuries no human
foot rested on its summit; it was the abode of silence; its walls were
buried beneath the dust of ages, birds built their nests on it and the
beasts of the field haunted the jungle which grew about its base.
Now British officials have scaled its walls, excavated its ruins,
and revealed the ancient splendour of the place, and so doing have
discovered that this rock fortress is one of the most wonderful pieces
of engineering of ancient times.
It is called the Sigiri or Lion Rock, and lies fourteen miles
north-east of Dambutta. It is cylindrical in shape, and rises up nearly
600 feet sheer from the ground, while the area of the summit is little
over an acre. Its scarped walls are nearly perpendicular, and in some
places they overhang their base.
Recent excavation shows that all round the foot of the rock there was
a fortified city, surrounded by a moat. But the most wonderful feature
of this fortress was the terrace, ornamented with lions, which ran
round the north face of the rock at its smallest diameter. At one part
it stood upon the rock which projected below, and at the same time was
protected by that part which overhung it. The terrace then zig-zagged
up the rock at an easy gradient, and so gave access to its otherwise
inaccessible summit, to which, in the last resort, the fugitive
intended to flee.
One hundred yards of this terrace still remains, and its structure of
several courses of brick can clearly be seen in one of the photographs,
while the grooves in the rock show where the rest of it ran. Professor
Davids says that the path was on the top of a solid brick wall, four or
five feet broad, which was carried along the face of the cliff. "The
cliff being perpendicular, this wall had to descend far below the path
before it found a resting-place on the edge of the rock. As the path
was gradually carried forward and upward, a line was dropped from it to
the rock beneath, and where the line first touched the cliff--however
far below--a flat place was scooped out, large enough to support a
single brick. This was done along the whole breadth of the path, and
then the solid wall was built up to the requisite height, while some of
the outer rows of bricks were carried high enough to form a wall breast
high on the outer side."
[Illustration: THE SIGIRI ROCK FORTRESS AS IT STANDS TO-DAY.]
Half way up the rock, or 160 feet from the ground, was another
extraordinary feature. There can be seen, by means of a telescope,
in two caves or pockets some vividly painted frescoes. How they were
painted in such a position no one knows; but, despite their clearness
of outline and freshness of colour, it is certain that they were
painted by artists 1,400 years ago.
But though we do not know how these frescoes were painted so long ago,
thrilling stories can be told of how two artists made copies of them
not long since.
Mr. Alick Murray, of the Ceylon Civil Service, was requested by the
Governor of the Island to make an attempt to reach these frescoes,
and he succeeded in an amazing manner. The first part of the way lay
through the forest, which was cleared with billhooks by the natives. At
the outset the resident chiefs and local population would have nothing
to do with the disturbance of a rock chamber which they believed to be
inhabited and protected by demons, so Tamils had to be brought from
India.
Three Tamil stone-cutters bored holes in the rock face, one above the
other, and therein placed iron "jumpers," which were secured with
cement. To these wooden staging was lashed. "The man of lightest
weight," says Mr. Murray, "was selected to make the necessary holes,
but after a while even he declared that it was impossible for him to
ascend any higher. But he said that if he were allowed to devote three
days to fasting and prayer to his gods, he thought he might succeed,
and so he did.
"But when the pocket was at last reached it was found that the floor
was at too steep an angle to admit of anyone standing or even sitting
on it. Iron stanchions were therefore let into the floor, and a strong
trestle or framework made secure to them. On this framework was placed
a platform, and from the platform the work of tracing thirteen of the
frescoes in the biggest cave was carried out."
[Illustration: PART OF THE WONDERFUL GALLERY WHICH LED TO THE TOP OF
THE FORTRESS.]
Mr. Murray's task was surely unique. From sunrise to sunset for a week
he did his copying lying on his back.
"Below me," he says, "was a sheer drop of 160 feet. The wind at times
was terrific, and I literally held my breath as some blast swept into
and around the chamber, and ruthlessly tore and carried off the work of
hours. On one occasion a blast fiercer than the rest shook the platform
to its very base, and the lashings, slackened by the dryness of the
atmosphere, allowed the platform to sink suddenly a few inches, when
its downward progress was happily arrested by the bracing underneath.
The only inmates of the chamber were swallows, who occasionally pecked
at me resentfully."
The frescoes are life-size figures of women, arranged singly or in sets
of two. Each couple represents a mistress and maid, the maid wearing in
each case a jacket exactly similar to that used by Tamil girls to-day.
When Mr. Murray had finished his work it was suggested that it would
be a good thing to leave something in the "pocket," in the shape of a
memento. A bottle was therefore obtained, and in it papers of the day
and local coins were placed. As he was leaving with his companions a
Buddhist priest asked to be allowed to pray for the preservation of the
bottle, and while he prayed Mr. Murray and his companions sang "God
save the Queen," by way of dedication--a characteristically British
proceeding.
Mr. Murray's tracings caused so much interest in the wonderful Rock
Fortress, that the Government of Ceylon instructed its Archæological
Commissioner, Mr. H. C. P. Bell, to survey and excavate it--a work of
much adventure. Hair-breadth escapes inevitably occurred, and all
the time the work was in hand Mr. Bell declares that he was on mental
"tenter-hooks."
He first reached the top of the rock by means of jungle wood ladders
(such as those shown in the photos) and six-inch grooves cut in the
rock. But once up, iron ladders and an iron rail were fixed so that
constant ascent and descent could be made.
During the first fortnight the workers were attacked by swarms of
bees, which drove them from the rock. These had to be burned out
before the work could proceed. But the greatest trial was the dreadful
heat of the sun, from which there was no shelter. The work began at
6.30 in the morning and continued till 3 o'clock, and 8½ hours in the
scorching sun, day after day, and week after week, was no light task.
The whole day was spent aloft, for too much time would have been wasted
if "lunch" had been "served" below. Fortunately a big cistern was
discovered at the top, from which beautiful water could be obtained.
When the first prejudice had died away, plenty of workers could be
found, and sometimes over a hundred of them were at work and swarmed
up the rock with as little excitement as English workmen pass through
their factory door.
[Illustration: SUMMIT OF FORTRESS AS RECENTLY EXCAVATED.]
The top was found to be covered with forest trees and a dense
undergrowth, neck high, so a gang of Singhalese were engaged to burn
them down. When the summit was excavated it was found that buildings
covered it to the very edge of the cliff, and every basketful of earth
had therefore to be spilt over the side of the rock--otherwise it would
have to be moved twice over. The depth of earth cutting varied from
five to twenty feet, and when the whole area was cleared the plan of
the long lost buildings was easily seen, virtually as perfect as when
first laid out. The natives declared that there was a passage from the
summit into the bowels of the rock, but that is not the case.
"The rooms and courtyards," says Mr. Bell, "stretch the whole length
of the ridge, in generally ascending tiers, from the small chamber
directly above the rock cistern at the south to the penultimate and
uppermost room near the north end. All are oblong, and all--or nearly
all--the chambers had corridors completely round them.
"Many passages were paved throughout with quartz slabs; though much of
this choice pavement has been displaced by the waste of centuries, or
from being deliberately put to other uses by Buddhist monks when the
fortune of war found them located in the 'marble halls' of royalty."
Even around the summit of this inaccessible rock a remarkable wall was
built. It rose from the brink of the precipice, for its foundations
were some feet and even yards below the level of the summit.
Accompanying Mr. Bell on this expedition was Mr. D. A. L. Perera,
whose purpose was to paint in oils facsimiles of all the frescoes
in both caves. Both were anxious to photograph the two pockets at a
distance, and, as they could not stand in the air, a four-inch hawser
was lowered from the summit of the rock to the ground, and a strong
iron block bound to the end. Through the block a new two-inch rope was
passed, and an improvised chair firmly tied to it, and in this the
photographer took his seat. The hawser was then pulled halfway up to
the west rock till the chair was over 150 feet from the ground and 50
feet clear of the cliff. Swaying in mid-air through the force of the
wind, the photographer exposed his negative, but as the shutter worked
too slowly the pictures taken were more or less blurred.
[Illustration: THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY STUDIO IN THE WORLD--MR. PERERA
AT WORK.]
Mr. Perera then decided to do an oil painting of the pockets to scale
while swinging at the end of the rope, and after rocking in space for
a week succeeded in his task. But the exposure day after day to the
intense glare of the rock's summit affected his eyesight, and he was
compelled to take complete rest for some weeks.
One of our photographs shows Mr. Perera at work. Thirteen of the
pictures were painted from the floor of the cave; to do the others
"it was necessary to construct a cantilever of jungle timber firmly
lashed to a stout iron cramp let into the rock floor. To the extremity
of this projection was tied a rough 'cage' of sticks; and from this
uncomfortable and perilous perch the loftiest fresco was made." This
was painting "in the open" with a vengeance.
Enormous difficulty was experienced in painting the frescoes in the
small cave (which was only three feet wide) and in getting to that
cave from the other. The ledge between them was only a cubit in width.
But by paying special remuneration Mr. Bell got some men to risk their
lives in making a "stick shelf." One-inch iron bars supported the
woodwork, which was banded strongly to thick iron cramped into the
rock. But in addition it was held up by a central hawser, and side
ropes hauled taut round trees on the summit of the rock nearly 300 feet
up. When finished this improvised platform stood out from the cliff 15
feet horizontally!
In these wonderful, dangerous, and eerie open-air studios, Mr. Perera
spent nineteen weary weeks painting on canvas a complete set of the 22
frescoes which were first painted 1,400 years ago. These are marvellous
in their faithfulness and colour.
Before Mr. Perera began to paint the frescoes, iron standards 3 feet 4
inches in height, with a single top rail, were driven along the edge of
both pockets and the connecting ledge between them; for without such
handrail a slip on the smooth inclined floor of the pocket would have
meant instant death on the rocks below.
Yet another adventure was the outcome of this exciting survey, and Mr.
Bell vividly tells the tale. "High up on the eastern face of the rock,"
he says, "may be noticed a dark streak betokening caves, and these we
resolved to survey. But the rock scarp below them being nowhere less
than 30 degrees in slope, and in places sheer, ascent without the aid
of a rope was impossible. The four-inch hawser was therefore let down
to the ground as before over the brow of the caves.
"Up this stout rope half a dozen of the strongest and most sure-headed
coolies swarmed to the apparent mouth of the caves. The measured
distance was 294 feet, climbed hand over hand the whole way up. But
arriving at this height they found that they were 50 feet distant from
the caves and still below their floor, with no means of getting nearer,
owing to the projecting crag above, and the rope's own weight keeping
it taut.
"Ultimately a brave Singhalese lad with a light rope round his waist
swung himself on to the rock as high as he could, and crawled crocodile
fashion the rest of the way up the steep smooth slope while the men
held the other end of the rope. Once in the caves he noosed the rope to
a piece of fallen rock, and next day a strong iron ring was driven into
the floor, and a hawser passed through it.
"Then Mr. Perera and I made the ascent. The largest cavern was 197
feet long, with a floor width averaging 11 feet. No vegetation grows
therein. But we did find under a rock in the cave three eggs of the
peregrine falcon, which vary strangely in hue from chocolate to almost
white. The eggs of this bird have never been taken in Ceylon before.
"We were grievously disappointed with our search, and had to be
content with a bare negative gain--the absolute assurance that the
caves contained no trace of previous human occupation. The foot of man
never desecrated this sanctuary of the eagle and falcon before. Being
virtually inaccessible, it was left to bird and bat and mountain bee.
Overhead the beetling crag jutted out forty feet and more, while under
foot the rock floor was polished and slippery from untold centuries of
wear by the feet of myriads on myriads of birds."
If, however, in years to come an adventurous climber climbs to this
chamber of the winds he will find in a niche a sealed record of its
daring exploration, and in just such a way the buried buildings on the
Sigiri Rock are the record of a crime of 1,400 years ago.
A king of Ceylon was buried alive with his face to the east by his
brutal son, who became king in his place. This in its turn was said to
be a punishment because the old king buried alive a holy man who was in
his way when building a great tank.
But, dreading the revenge of his brother, the young king fortified the
Sigiri rock. There he lived for eighteen miserable years, and at the
end of that time his brother came and slew him.
He happened to turn his elephant to avoid a pit, and, thinking he was
running away, his people lost heart and the enemy cried out, "They're
running away."
Instead of hiding within his fortress, when the critical moment came,
the man it was to protect had lost faith in it, and in his misery went
out to his last fight.
Our photos were taken by Messrs. Skeen and Co., Colombo.
[Illustration: MR. BELL EXAMINES A CAVE--LET DOWN FROM THE TOP OF THE
ROCK.]
[Illustration: _By Permission of Messrs. S. Hildesheimer & Co., London
and Manchester._
OVERTAKEN!
_From the Painting by John A. Lomax._]
MY FAIR NEIGHBOUR'S PIANO, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
BY HENRY MARTLEY.
_Illustrated by F. H. Townsend._
[Illustration]
When I heard that a lady had taken the flat over mine, I feared the
worst. The worst had come. Dum-dum-dum went the throbbing piano above.
The former occupants of that flat has possessed a baby which I used to
anathematise, but even its merry crowings or midnight howls were better
than this.
The lady--an elderly lady of the spinster persuasion--had passed me
several times on the stairs, and I heartily wished that Providence
had blessed her with a husband and several children to occupy her
spare time. If I ever wanted to go into Parliament, I should have
only one item in my programme, and that would be to make a licence
as necessary for music in a private as in a public house. There it
went--dum-dum-dum--with intervals in which that detestable old maid
picked up dropped bars as though she were picking up dropped stitches.
Three times I sat down to tackle the Settled Land Acts, and three times
I angrily shut the book without having comprehended a single section.
I was going in for my final at the end of six weeks, and the result of
the examination would be of considerable importance to me.
My uncle had paid for most of my education, and held out prospects
of a partnership, but as time went on his beneficent intentions had
lost their keenness, and a failure would produce considerably less
likelihood of those prospects becoming actual facts. He was an old
gentleman who judged by results, and the creditable results of my
life had hitherto been few. A decent place in the Honours List would
mean a probability, a prize would mean a certainty, of a comfortable
income for life; and if I was to work, that infernal noise must stop.
Legal redress I had none, nor would complaint to the landlord be of
any use. There were clauses in the leases against keeping canaries,
or even window-boxes, but none forbidding pianos. There was only one
course open to me, and that was to appeal to the better feelings of the
elderly spinster.
At first I thought of writing a note, and made some attempts at
composing one, but they were either too violent or too unconvincing,
and I felt that in dealing with a person of her description a personal
interview would produce better fruit. On considering the matter, I
decided that the interview had better take place at once. It was an
unconventional hour to call, but I was not certain that I should
have the courage to protest except in the heat of indignation, and I
had decided on an effective _rôle_. I intended to appeal to her as a
hard-working young man whom she was depriving of a livelihood, and to a
certain extent to be appealingly distressed.
Armed with these intentions, I mounted the stairs, knocked at the
door, and asked for Miss Ormerod, which I had gathered was the lady's
name. The servant looked at me a little doubtfully, but finally the
piano stopped, and she asked me to come in. I put on my most pathetic
expression, and entered. I confronted a lady who had just risen from
the piano. With some surprise I noticed that it was not the elderly
spinster, but a little damsel of prepossessing attributes, and with big
merry-hearted eyes.
"I came to see Miss Ormerod," I explained.
"I am Miss Ormerod," she answered.
I am never a very self-possessed young man, and this sudden upsetting
of my plans took me aback. The elderly spinster was obviously only a
frequent visitor. It is one thing to appeal pathetically to the better
feelings of a lady of advanced years, and another to explain matters to
a young damsel.
"I live in the flat down below," I continued, "and I came to call
to--er----"
"Came to call?" she answered, with an amused air, and a glance at the
clock.
"Not to call in the ordinary way," I stammered, "but I couldn't help
it. You see, you were playing the piano, and--and----"
"Wasn't it sufficiently audible down below?" she inquired, chillingly.
[Illustration: "I PUT ON MY MOST PATHETIC EXPRESSION, AND ENTERED."]
"Quite audible," I answered, catching eagerly at the chance of
explanation. "In fact it was too audible--that was just it. It's rather
disturbing in my flat."
"And may I ask why I am not to play the piano?" she replied. "There was
a noise in your flat the night before last considerably less melodious
than a piano."
"I suppose there was. Ellis and some other men came to a farewell
dinner with me before his departure to India. It shan't occur again," I
said; "and you see, I'm reading for my final, and if you could----"
She looked at me somewhat doubtfully.
"The Solicitor's final," I added--it was a fragment of my intended
appeal to the elderly spinster--"is a very difficult examination, and
requires concentrated attention."
"You're reading for the Solicitor's final?" she exclaimed, with a
sudden change of expression. "Oh, then you must know a lot of law."
"That scarcely follows," I began to protest, in some surprise.
"And you can explain to me what a negotiable instrument really is," she
went on, delightedly.
I began to think she must be mad.