resided on a coffee plantation at Rassawé, one of the loftiest mountains
of the Ambogammoa range. More than once during the terrific
thunder-bursts that precede the rains at the change of each monsoon, he
observed that the elephants in the adjoining forest hastened from under
cover of the trees and took up their station in the open ground, where I
saw them on one of these occasions collected into a group; and here, he
said, it was their custom to remain till the lightning had ceased, when
they retired again into the jungle.[1] It must be observed, however,
that showers, and especially light drizzling rain, are believed to bring
the elephants from the jungle towards pathways or other openings in the
forest;--and hence, in places infested by them, timid persons are afraid
to travel in the afternoon during uncertain weather.
[Footnote 1: The elephant is believed by the Singhalese to express his
uneasiness by his voice, on the approach of _rain_; and the Tamils have
a proverb.--"_Listen to the elephant, rain is coming._"]
When free in its native woods the elephant evinces rather simplicity
than sagacity, and its intelligence seldom exhibits itself in cunning.
The rich profusion in which nature has supplied its food, and
anticipated its every want, has made it independent of those devices by
which carnivorous animals provide for their subsistence; and, from the
absence of all rivalry between it and the other denizens of the plains,
it is never required to resort to artifice for self-protection. For
these reasons, in its tranquil and harmless life, it may appear to
casual observers to exhibit even less than ordinary ability; but when
danger and apprehension call for the exertion of its powers, those who
have witnessed their display are seldom inclined to undervalue its
sagacity.
Mr. CRIPPS has related to me an instance in which a recently captured
elephant was either rendered senseless from fear, or, as the native
attendants asserted, _feigned death_ in order to regain its freedom. It
was led from the corral as usual between two tame ones, and had already
proceeded far towards its destination; when night closing in, and the
torches being lighted, it refused to go on, and finally sank to the
ground, apparently lifeless. Mr. CRIPPS ordered the fastenings to be
removed from its legs, and when all attempts to raise it had failed, so
convinced was he that it was dead, that he ordered the ropes to be taken
off and the carcase abandoned. While this was being done he and a
gentleman by whom he was accompanied leaned against the body to rest.
They had scarcely taken their departure and proceeded a few yards, when,
to their astonishment, the elephant rose with the utmost alacrity, and
fled towards the jungle, screaming at the top of its voice, its cries
being audible long after it had disappeared in the shades of the forest.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER III.
* * * * *
NARRATIVES OF THE NATIVES OF CEYLON RELATIVE TO ENCOUNTERS WITH ROGUE
ELEPHANTS.
The following narratives have been taken down by a Singhalese gentleman,
from the statements of the natives by whom they are recounted;--and they
are here inserted, in order to show the opinion prevalent amongst the
people of Ceylon as to the habits and propensities of the rogue
elephant. The stories are given in words of my correspondent, who writes
in English, as follows:--
1. "We," said my informant, who was a native trader of Caltura, "were on
our way to Badulla, by way of Ratnapoora and Balangodde, to barter our
merchandize for coffee. There were six in our party, myself, my
brother-in-law, and four coolies, who carried on pingoes[1] our
merchandize, which consisted of cloth and brass articles. About 4
o'clock, P.M., we were close to Idalgasinna, and our coolies were rather
unwilling to go further for fear of elephants, which they said were sure
to be met with at that noted place, especially as there had been a
slight drizzling of rain during the whole afternoon. I was as much
afraid of elephants as the coolies themselves; but I was anxious to
proceed, and so, after a few words of encouragement addressed to them,
and a prayer or two offered up to _Saman dewiyo_[2], we resumed our
journey. I also took the further precaution of hanging up a few
leaves.[3] As the rain was coming down fast and thick, and I was anxious
to get to our halting-place before night, we moved on at a rapid pace.
My brother-in-law was in the van of the party, I myself was in the rear,
and the four coolies between us, all moving along on a rugged, rocky,
and difficult path; as the road to Badulla till lately was on the
sloping side of a hill, covered with jungle, pieces of projecting rock,
and brushwood. It was about five o'clock in the evening, or a little
later, and we had hardly cleared the foot of the hill and got to the
plain below, when a rustling of leaves and a crackling of dry brushwood
were heard on our right, followed immediately by the trumpeting of a
_hora allia_[4], which was making towards us. We all fled, followed by
the elephant. I, who was in the rear of the party, was the first to take
to flight; the coolies threw away their pingoes, and my brother-in-law
his umbrella, and all ran in different directions. I hid myself behind a
large boulder of granite nearly covered by jungle: but as my place of
concealment was on high ground, I could see all that was going on below.
The first thing I observed was the elephant returning to the place where
one of the pingoes was lying: he was carrying one of the coolies in a
coil of his trunk. The body of the man was dangling with the head
downward. I cannot say whether he was then alive or not; I could not
perceive any marks of blood or bruises on his person: but he appeared to
be lifeless. The elephant placed him down on the ground, put the pingo
on his (the man's) shoulder, steadying both the man and the pingo with
his trunk and fore-legs. But the man of course did not move or stand up
with his pingo. Seeing this, the elephant again raised the cooly and
dashed him against the ground, and then trampled the body to a very
jelly. This done, he took up the pingo and moved away from the spot; but
at the distance of about a fathom or two, laid it down again, and
ripping open one of the bundles, took out of it all the contents,
_somans_[5], _camb[=a]yas_[6], handkerchiefs, and several pieces of
white cambrick cloth, all which he tore to small pieces, and flung them
wildly here and there. He did the same with all the other pingoes. When
this was over the elephant quietly walked away into the jungle,
trumpeting all the way as far as I could hear. When danger was past I
came out of my concealment, and returned to the place where we had
halted that morning. Here the rest of my companions joined me soon
after. The next morning we set out again on our journey, our party being
now increased by some seven or eight traders from Salpity Corle: but
this time we did not meet with the elephant. We found the mangled corpse
of our cooly on the same spot where I had seen it the day before,
together with the torn pieces of my cloths, of which we collected as
fast as we could the few which were serviceable, and all the brass
utensils which were quite uninjured. That elephant was a noted rogue. He
had before this killed many people on that road, especially those
carrying pingoes of coco-nut oil and ghee. He was afterwards killed by
an Englishman. The incidents I have mentioned above, took place about
twenty years ago."
[Footnote 1: Yokes borne on the shoulder, with a package at each end.]
[Footnote 2: The tutelary spirit of the sacred mountain, Adam's Peak.]
[Footnote 3: The Singhalese hold the belief, that twigs taken from one
bush and placed on another growing close to a pathway, ensure protection
to travellers from the attacks of wild animals, and especially of
elephants. Can it be that the latter avoid the path, on discovering this
evidence of the proximity of recent passengers?]
[Footnote 4: A rogue elephant.]
[Footnote 5: Woman's robe.]
[Footnote 6: The figured cloth worn by men.]
The following also relates to the same locality. It was narrated to me
by an old Moorman of Barberyn, who, during his earlier years, led the
life of a pedlar.
2. "I and another," said he, "were on our way to Badulla, one day some
twenty-five or thirty years ago. We were quietly moving along a path
which wound round a hill, when all of a sudden, and without the
slightest previous intimation either by the rustling of leaves or by any
other sign, a huge elephant with short tusks rushed to the path. Where
he had been before I can't say; I believe he must have been lying in
wait for travellers. In a moment he rushed forward to the road,
trumpeting dreadfully, and seized my companion. I, who happened to be in
the rear, took to flight, pursued by the elephant, which had already
killed my companion by striking him against the ground. I had not moved
more than seven or eight fathoms, when the elephant seized me, and threw
me up with such force, that I was carried high into the air towards a
_Cahata_ tree, whose branches caught me and prevented my falling to the
ground. By this I received no other injury than the dislocation of one
of my wrists. I do not know whether the elephant saw me after he had
hurled me away through the air; but certainly he did not come to the
tree to which I was then clinging: even if he had come, he couldn't have
done me any more harm, as the branch on which I was far beyond the reach
of his trunk, and the tree itself too large for him to pull down. The
next thing I saw was the elephant returning to the corpse of my
companion, which he again threw on the ground, and placing one of his
fore feet on it, he tore it with his trunk limb after limb; and dabbled
in the blood that flowed from the shapeless mass of flesh which he was
still holding under his foot."
3. "In 1847 or '46," said another informant, "I was a superintendent of
a coco-nut estate belonging to Mr. Armitage, situated about twelve miles
from Negombo. A rogue elephant did considerable injury to the estate at
that time; and one day, hearing that it was then on the plantation, a
Mr. Lindsay, an Englishman, who was proprietor of the adjoining
property, and myself, accompanied by some seven or eight people of the
neighbouring village, went out, carrying with us six rifles loaded and
primed. We continued to walk along a path which, near one of its turns,
had some bushes on one side. We had calculated to come up with the brute
where it had been seen half an hour before; but no sooner had one of our
men, who was walking foremost, seen the animal at the distance of some
fifteen or twenty fathoms, than he exclaimed, 'There! there!' and
immediately took to his heels, and we all followed his example. The
elephant did not see us until we had run some fifteen or twenty paces
from the spot where we turned, when he gave us chase, screaming
frightfully as he came on. The Englishman managed to climb a tree, and
the rest of my companions did the same; as for myself I could not,
although I made one or two superhuman efforts. But there was no time to
be lost. The elephant was running at me with his trunk bent down in a
curve towards the ground. At this critical moment Mr. Lindsay held out
his foot to me, with the help of which and then of the branches of the
tree, which were three or four feet above my head, I managed to scramble
up to a branch. The elephant came directly to the tree and attempted to
force it down, which he could not. He first coiled his trunk round the
stem, and pulled it with all his might, but with no effect. He then
applied his head to the tree, and pushed for several minutes, but with
no better success. He then trampled with his feet all the projecting
roots, moving, as he did so, several times round and round the tree.
Lastly, failing in all this, and seeing a pile of timber, which I had
lately cut, at a short distance from us, he removed it all (thirty-six
pieces) one at a time to the root of the tree, and piled them up in a
regular business-like manner; then placing his hind feet on this pile,
he raised the fore part of his body, and reached out his trunk, but
still he could not touch us, as we were too far above him. The
Englishman then fired, and the ball took effect somewhere on the
elephant's head, but did not kill him. It made him only the more
furious. The next shot, however, levelled him to the ground. I
afterwards brought the skull of the animal to Colombo, and it is still
to be seen at the house of Mr. Armitage."
4. "One night a herd of elephants entered a village in the Four Corles.
After doing considerable injury to plaintain bushes and young coco-nut
trees, they retired, the villagers being unable to do anything to
protect their fruit trees from destruction. But one elephant was left
behind, who continued to scream the whole night through at the same
spot. It was then discovered that the elephant, on seeing a jak fruit on
a tree somewhat beyond the reach of his trunk, had raised himself on his
hind legs, placing his fore feet against the stem, in order to lay hold
of the fruit, but unluckily for him there happened to be another tree
standing so close to it that the vacant space between the two stems was
only a few inches. During his attempts to take hold of the fruit one of
his legs happened to get in between the two trees, where, on account of
his weight and his clumsy attempts to extricate himself, it got so
firmly wedged that he could not remove it, and in this awkward position
he remained for some days, till he died on the spot."
CHAP. IV.
THE ELEPHANT.
* * * * *
_Elephant Shooting._
As the shooting of an elephant, whatever endurance and adroitness the
sport may display in other respects, requires the smallest possible
skill as a marksman, the numbers which are annually slain in this way
may be regarded as evidence of the multitudes abounding in those parts
of Ceylon to which they resort. One officer, Major ROGERS, killed
upwards of 1400; another, Captain GALLWEY, has the credit of slaying
more than half that number; Major SKINNER, the Commissioner of Roads,
almost as many; and less persevering aspirants follow at humbler
distances.[1]
[Footnote 1: To persons like myself, who are not addicted to what is
called "sport," the statement of these wholesale slaughters is
calculated to excite surprise and curiosity as to the nature of a
passion that impels men to self-exposure and privation, in a pursuit
which presents nothing but the monotonous recurrence of scenes of blood
and suffering. Mr. BAKER, who has recently published, under the title of
"_The Rifle and the Hound in Ceylon_" an account of his exploits in the
forest, gives us the assurance that "_all real sportsmen are
tender-hearted men, who shun cruelty to an animal, and are easily moved
by a tale of distress_;" and that although man is naturally
bloodthirsty, and a beast of prey by instinct, yet that the true
sportsman is distinguished from the rest of the human race by his "_love
of nature, and of noble scenery_." In support of this pretension to a
gentler nature than the rest of mankind, the author proceeds to attest
his own abhorrence of cruelty by narrating the sufferings of an old
hound, which, although "toothless," he cheered on to assail a boar at
bay, but the poor dog recoiled "covered with blood, cut nearly in half,
with a wound fourteen inches in length, from the lower part of the
belly, passing up the flank, completely severing the muscles of the hind
leg, and extending up the spine; his hind leg having the appearance of
being nearly off." In this state, forgetful of the character he had so
lately given of the true sportsman, as a lover of nature and a hater of
cruelty, he encouraged "the poor old dog," as he calls him, to resume
the fight with the boar, which lasted for an hour, when he managed to
call the dogs off; and perfectly exhausted, the mangled hound crawled
out of the jungle with several additional wounds, including a severe
gash in his throat. "He fell from exhaustion, and we made a litter with
two poles and a horsecloth to carry him home."--P. 314. If such were the
habitual enjoyments of this class of sportsmen, their motiveless
massacres would admit of no manly justification. In comparison with them
one is disposed to regard almost with favour the exploits of a hunter
like Major ROGERS, who is said to have applied the value of the ivory
obtained from his encounters towards the purchase of his successive
regimental commissions, and had, therefore, an object, however
disproportionate, in his slaughter of 1400 elephants.
One gentleman in Ceylon, not less distinguished for his genuine kindness
of heart, than for his marvellous success in shooting elephants, avowed
to me that the eagerness with which he found himself impelled to pursue
them had often excited surprise in his own mind; and although he had
never read the theory of Lord Kames, or the speculations of Vicesimus
Knox, he had come to the conclusion that the passion thus excited within
him was a remnant of the hunter's instinct, with which man was
originally endowed, to enable him, by the chase, to support existence in
a state of nature, and which, though rendered dormant by civilisation,
had not been utterly eradicated.
This theory is at least more consistent and intelligible than the "love
of nature and scenery," sentimentally propounded by the author quoted
above.]
But notwithstanding this prodigious destruction, a reward of a few
shillings per head offered by the Government for taking elephants was
claimed for 3500 destroyed in part of the northern province alone, in
less than three years prior to 1848: and between 1851 and 1856, a
similar reward was paid for 2000 in the southern province, between Galle
and Hambangtotte.
Although there is little opportunity for the display of marksmanship in
an elephant battue, there is one feature in the sport, as conducted in
Ceylon, which contrasts favourably with the slaughterhouse details
chronicled with revolting minuteness in some recent accounts of elephant
shooting in South Africa. The practice in Ceylon is to aim invariably at
the head, and the sportsman finds his safety to consist in boldly facing
the animal, advancing to within fifteen paces, and lodging a bullet,
either in the temple or in the hollow over the eye, or in a well-known
spot immediately above the trunk, where the weaker structure of the
skull affords an easy access to the brain.[1] The region of the ear is
also a fatal spot, and often resorted to,--the places I have mentioned
in the front of the head being only accessible when the animal is
"charging." Professor HARRISON, in his communication to the Royal Irish
Academy on the Anatomy of the Elephant, has rendered an intelligible
explanation of this in the following passage descriptive of the
cranium:--"it exhibits two remarkable facts: _first_, the small space
occupied by the brain; and, _secondly_, the beautiful and curious
structure of the bones of the head. The two tables of all these bones,
except the occipital, are separated by rows of large cells, some from
four to five inches in length, others only small, irregular, and
honey-comb-like:--these all communicate with each other, and, through
the frontal sinuses, with the cavity of the nose, and also with the
tympanum or drum of each ear; consequently, as in some birds, these
cells are filled with air, and thus while the skull attains a great size
in order to afford an extensive surface for the attachment of muscles,
and a mechanical support for the tusks, it is at the same time very
light and buoyant in proportion to its bulk; a property the more
valuable as the animal is fond of water and bathes in deep rivers."
[Footnote 1: The vulnerability of the elephant in this region of the
head was known to the ancients, and PLINY, describing a combat of
elephants in the amphitheatre at Rome, says, that one was slain by a
single blow, "pilum sub oculo adactum, in vitalia capitis venerat" (Lib.
viii. c. 7.) Notwithstanding the comparative facility of access to the
brain afforded at this spot, an ordinary leaden bullet is not certain to
penetrate, and frequently becomes flattened. The hunters, to counteract
this, are accustomed to harden the ball, by the introduction of a small
portion of type-metal along with the lead.]
[Illustration: SECTION OF ELEPHANT'S HEAD.]
Generally speaking, a single ball, planted in the forehead, ends the
existence of the noble creature instantaneously: and expert sportsmen
have been known to kill right and left, one with each barrel; but
occasionally an elephant will not fall before several shots have been
lodged in his head.[1]
[Footnote 1: "There is a wide difference of opinion as to the most
deadly shot. I think the temple the most certain, but authority in
Ceylon says the 'fronter,' that is, above the trunk. Behind the ear is
said to be deadly, but that is a shot which I never fired or saw fired
that I remember. If the ball go true to its mark, all shots (in the
head) are certain; but the bones on either side of the honey-comb
passage to the brain are so thick that there is in all a 'glorious
uncertainty' which keeps a man on the _qui vive_ till he sees the
elephant down."--From a paper on _Elephant Shooting in Ceylon_, by Major
MACREADY, late Military Secretary at Colombo.]
Contrasted with this, one reads with a shudder the sickening details of
the African huntsman approaching _behind_ the retiring animal, and of
the torture inflicted by the shower of bullets which tear up its flesh
and lacerate its flank and shoulders.[1]
[Footnote 1: In Mr. GORDON CUMMING'S account of a _Hunter's Life in
South Africa_, there is a narrative of his pursuit of a wounded elephant
which he had lamed by lodging a ball in its shoulder-blade. It limped
slowly towards a tree, against which it leaned itself in helpless agony,
whilst its pursuer seated himself in front of it, in safety, to _boil
his coffee_, and observe its sufferings. The story is continued as
follows:--"Having admired him for a considerable time, _I resolved to
make experiments on vulnerable points_; and approaching very near I
fired several bullets at different parts of his enormous skull. He only
acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk, with the
point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking and peculiar
action. Surprised and shocked at finding that I was only prolonging the
sufferings of the noble beast, which bore its trials with such dignified
composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding with all possible
despatch, and accordingly opened fire upon him from the left side,
aiming at the shoulder. I first fired _six_ shots with the two-grooved
rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal. After which I fired
_six_ shots at the same part with the Dutch six-pounder. _Large tears
now trickled from his eyes, which he slowly shut and opened, his
colossal frame shivered convulsively, and falling on his side, he
expired_." (Vol. ii. p. 10.)
In another place, after detailing the manner in which he assailed a poor
animal--he says, "I was loading and firing as fast as could be,
sometimes at the head, sometimes behind the shoulder, until my
elephant's fore-quarter was a mass of gore; notwithstanding which he
continued to hold on, leaving the grass and branches of the forest
scarlet in his wake. * * * Having fired _thirty-five rounds_ with my
two-grooved rifle, I opened upon him with the Dutch six-pounder, and
when forty bullets had perforated his hide, he began for the first time,
to evince signs of a dilapidated constitution." The disgusting
description is closed thus: "Throughout the charge he repeatedly cooled
his person with large quantities of water, which he ejected from his
trunk over his sides and back, and just as the pangs of death came over
him, he stood trembling violently beside a thorn tree, and kept pouring
water into his bloody mouth until he died, when he pitched heavily
forward with the whole weight of his fore-quarters resting on the points
of his tusks. The strain was fair, and the tusks did not yield; but the
portion of his head in which the tusks were embedded, extending a long
way above the eye, yielded and burst with a muffled crash."--(_Ib_.,
vol. ii. pp. 4, 5.)]