STORIES OF ELEPHANT-HUNTING.--SCENES OF THE CHASE.
When the topic of crocodiles and their relatives had been exhausted,
Fred reminded the Doctor of his promise to tell them something of the
ways of hunting elephants.
"I was just coming to that," said Doctor Bronson, "and have been trying
to refresh my memory on the subject. I do not know how they hunt
elephants in Siam, but from the appearance of the corral near the
elephants' stables, I infer that the process is pretty nearly the same
in all countries where the elephant is found in a wild state.
[Illustration: AN ELEPHANT FENCE.]
"You observed that the corral, or yard, at Ayuthia was constructed of
upright logs set into the earth in the form of a palisade. In Ceylon it
is made of heavy posts, with strong timbers placed horizontally, the
whole interlaced and bound with withes, and braced with slanting posts
on the outside. The fence is generally about fifteen feet high, and the
openings in it will easily allow a man to pass through. At Ayuthia you
saw that the posts of the corral permit the same thing; the fence is
like a sieve, that strains men through without difficulty, but catches
the elephants.
[Illustration: FORM OF A CORRAL.]
"Here is the general appearance of the fence," said the Doctor, as he
took his pencil and drew on a sheet of paper, "and here is the shape of
the corral. The corral is a pen, and the word is derived from the
Spanish, and means a ring or enclosure. The space enclosed is generally
about five hundred feet long by half that width, and at one end there is
a gate that can be opened and shut very quickly, and is large enough to
permit the passage of but one elephant at a time. There is an avenue,
shaped like the letter V, which leads up to the corral, and converges on
the side where the gate is placed. It is concealed as much as possible
by brushwood, and where it begins it is so slight as to be hardly
perceptible. It extends a long distance into the forest, and a great
deal of skill is required to construct it successfully.
[Illustration: BEGINNING THE DRIVE.]
"When the corral has been arranged, and is ready for occupation, the
herd is supposed to be in its vicinity. Eight or ten weeks have been
spent in driving in the elephants; the forest where they roam has been
surrounded very cautiously, and several herds have been driven together
so slowly and quietly, that none of the sagacious beasts has any
suspicion that he is being entrapped. Sometimes hundreds of men are
employed in driving in the herds, and an area is surrounded equal to
several counties of an American state. Day by day the circle grows
narrower, and finally the men composing it are able to build fires ten
or twelve feet from each other. Not till then do they consider the game
fairly bagged, and now they throw off all deception and adopt new
tactics. Where before all was still, is now a scene of wild confusion;
the men make a loud noise, with musical and unmusical instruments, and
each of them carries a torch, which he waves wildly in the air. They do
this on three sides of the herd, while the fourth side, in the direction
of the corral, is left conveniently open.
[Illustration: DRIVING INTO THE CORRAL.]
"The elephants are frightened, and rush in the desired direction; they
now begin to suspect a snare, and frequently try to break through the
line of men and rush back to their forest home. The men pelt them with
the torches, and strike them with the burning sticks, till they turn
around again and go where they are wanted; gradually they near the end
of the corral, and finally a few of them make their way through the gate
and are securely trapped. The natives rush forward and close the bars of
the gate, and the rest of the herd is permitted to stray a little way
back into the woods, but it is carefully kept from going too far.
"When they find they are caught, the elephants rush wildly round the
corral, trying first one part of the fence and then another, in the hope
of escaping. Wherever they go, they are met at the fence by men with
flaming torches; and they are further terrified by discharges of
musketry, and the sound of horns and trumpets. This performance is kept
up for several hours of the day, and generally through the night; and at
daybreak they make ready to secure the captives, and prepare the corral
for a second lot of elephants.
"It is in this work that the elephant shows the peculiarity of his
nature, in using all his sagacity to assist in the capture of his
kindred. He seems to know what is wanted of him, and invariably appears
to take great delight in doing it."
"Elephant nature is not altogether unlike human nature," remarked the
consul, with a smile. "Not a few of our fellow-men, whenever they fall
upon misfortune, are desirous of having others to share it with them."
"It is an old adage that misery loves company," said Fred.
"But I hope it is not a true one," Frank responded. "Perhaps we had
better give the human race the benefit of any doubt on the subject, and
say that the quality we have been talking about is elephant nature, and
does not belong to us."
His proposal was accepted, and the account of elephant-hunting was
resumed.
"The removal of the captives requires a good deal of skill and caution,
both on the part of the tame elephants and on that of the attendants.
Here is an excellent account of this operation:
"The bars which secured the entrance to the corral were cautiously
withdrawn, and two trained elephants passed stealthily in, each ridden
by his _mahout_--or _ponnekella_, as he is called in Ceylon--and one
attendant, and carrying a strong collar, formed by coils of rope made
from cocoa-nut fibre, from which hung on each side cords of elk's hide,
prepared with a ready noose. Along with them, and concealed behind them,
the head-men of the _cooroowe_, or noosers, crept in, eager to secure
the honor of taking the first elephant--a distinction which this class
jealously contests with the mahouts of the chiefs and the temples. He
was a wiry little man, nearly seventy years old, who had served in the
same capacity under the Kandyan king, and wore two silver bangles, which
had been conferred on him in testimony of his prowess. He was
accompanied by his son, named Ranghanie, equally renowned for his
courage and dexterity.
"On this occasion ten tame elephants were in attendance; one of which
had been caught only the year before, but was now ready to assist in
capturing others. One was of prodigious age, having been in the service
of the Dutch and English governments in succession, for upwards of a
century. The other, called by her keeper 'Siribeddi,' was about fifty
years old, and distinguished for her gentleness and docility. She was a
most accomplished decoy, and evinced the utmost relish for the sport.
Having entered the corral noiselessly, she moved slowly along with a sly
composure and an assumed air of easy indifference; sauntering leisurely
in the direction of the captives, and halting now and then to pluck a
bunch of grass or a few leaves, as she passed. As she approached the
herd, they put themselves in motion to meet her, and the leader, having
advanced in front and passed his trunk gently over her head, turned and
paced slowly back to his dejected companions. Siribeddi followed with
the same listless step, and drew herself up close behind him, thus
affording the nooser an opportunity to stoop under her and slip the
noose over the hind foot of the wild one. The elephant instantly
perceived his danger, shook off the rope, and turned to attack the man.
The latter would have suffered for his temerity, had not Siribeddi
protected him by raising her trunk and driving the assailant into the
middle of the herd, when the old man, being slightly wounded, was helped
out of the corral, and his son, Ranghanie, took his place.
"The herd again collected in a circle, with their heads towards the
centre. The largest male was singled out, and two tame ones pushed
boldly in, one on each side of him, till the three stood nearly abreast.
He made no resistance, but betrayed his uneasiness by shifting
restlessly from foot to foot. Ranghanie now crept up; holding the rope
open with both hands, its other extremity being made fast to Siribeddi's
collar, and watching the instant when the wild elephant lifted its hind
foot, he succeeded in passing the noose over its leg, drew it close, and
fled to the rear. The two tame elephants now fell back; Siribeddi
stretched the rope to its full length, and while she dragged out the
captive, her companion placed himself between her and the herd to
prevent any interference.
[Illustration: SECURING THE CAPTIVES.]
"In order to secure him to a tree, he had to be dragged back some
twenty or thirty yards, making furious resistance, bellowing in terror,
plunging on all sides, and crushing the smaller timber, which bent like
reeds beneath his clumsy struggles. Siribeddi drew him steadily after
her, and wound the rope round the proper tree, holding it all the time
at its fullest tension, and stepping cautiously across it when, in order
to give it a second turn, it was necessary to pass between the tree and
the elephant.
[Illustration: SIRIBEDDI'S PRIZE.]
"One after the other the herd was secured, in spite of their resistance;
and the whole time consumed in disposing of an elephant, from the moment
the decoys approached him till he was secured to a tree, was about
three-quarters of an hour. The captives tried all possible ways to
escape, but it was of no use; they were fastened to the trees, and the
cords were so strong and so well tied that the greatest exertions of the
prisoners were of no effect whatever. Some of the tricks they practised
in endeavoring to escape were very ingenious, and showed that the
elephant in his wild state has the full development of the sagacity
which he displays in captivity. Their strength is enormous, and
sometimes they pull down trees in their struggles.
[Illustration: THE PRISONERS TIED UP.]
"It is a curious circumstance," the Doctor continued, "that the tame
elephant who is assisting at the capture of his kindred never displays
the least sympathy for them; while they, on the other hand, show a great
deal of it for each other. When a captive, who is being dragged to a
tree, passes one that is already tied up, he will stop and twine his
trunk around the other's legs and neck, and manifest in all the ways
that he can a deep sorrow for what has happened.
[Illustration: A LITTLE HEAD WORK.]
"When the animals are secured the corral presents a curious spectacle.
The great beasts are stretched out in various attitudes, their feet
fastened to the trees, and sometimes spread far apart. They moan and
bellow for hours together; they seize hold of the trees with their
trunks, and exhaust all their ingenuity in endeavoring to get free. When
all other means have failed, they will often try to escape by turning
somersaults; and it is interesting to see an elephant balancing himself
on his head, and endeavoring to throw his heels in the air. For awhile
they refuse to eat or drink, and sometimes they literally starve
themselves to death. I have heard of several instances where they have
refused to move or eat, and remain motionless for days, till they die.
It is generally the finest elephant of a herd that kills himself in this
way; the natives say he dies of a broken heart, and I am quite inclined
to believe that such is the case. And it sometimes happens that after an
elephant has been tamed, and is thoroughly obedient to his keeper, he
will lie down and die on the very first attempt to harness him.
[Illustration: IN A HEAP OF TROUBLE.]
"There is a story of an elephant in Ceylon, which was one of the finest
that had been taken in a long while. He resisted a good deal when first
captured; and when they were removing him from the corral to the
stables, a distance of about six miles, he was so obstinate that the
journey occupied several hours. He escaped once, but was afterwards
recaptured and became very docile; but when he was taken to Colombo, he
stopped in front of the gate of the fort, and would not enter. While
they were trying to persuade him to go inside, he lay down on the ground
and died, without the least struggle."
Frank asked in what way the elephants are tamed, after they have been
captured and tied up as the Doctor described.
"They are subdued," said the Doctor, "partly by starvation, and partly
by kind treatment. Hunger is the great force used, as the elephant is
not allowed to have any food until he shows signs of becoming tractable.
Sometimes he is starved for a week or more; but he is allowed to satisfy
his thirst to a limited extent. When he indicates that he has become
docile, and is accustomed to the presence of his keeper, he is released
and taken to the stables, where he is well fed. No attempt is made to
harness him for some time, but he is exercised with the other elephants,
and gradually reconciles himself to a captive state. In nine cases out
of ten he never shows the least inclination to rebel, but accepts his
new condition of life with perfect resignation; and, as I have before
told you, he is quite ready and willing to assist in the capture of his
former comrades.
"In some parts of Asia the natives capture elephants by digging deep
pits, and covering them with bushes and leaves, so that the trap is
quite concealed. The herd is then driven in the direction of the pit,
and some of the animals fall into it. A guard is placed over them, and
they are kept without food for seven or eight days, and even for a
longer period if they do not submit. When they are conquered, the sides
of the pit are dug down, and they are led out of the place of their
imprisonment. There is a very good story connected with this mode of
capture; it is an old one, and evidently the Eastern version of the
fable of the mouse and the lion, which is in all the story-books."
"Tell it, please," said Fred; and the request was echoed by his cousin.
"I will tell it," said the Doctor, "though I fear you may consider it
too juvenile for you.
"Hundreds of years ago an elephant was taken in a pit in a forest in
India. He bemoaned his fate, and wept aloud. The guard that had been
left over him was asleep under a tree, and a priest who was passing
heard his lamentations and tried to console him.
"'Alas!' said the elephant, 'there can be no consolation for me. I must
stay in this pit till I am subdued, and then I shall be the slave of
man. No one can save me.'
"'Don't be so sure of that,' replied the priest. 'If you have ever done
a good action to anybody, you can call him to your aid, and he will
assist you. Think of some service you have given, and perhaps it will
now be of use to you.'
"'I have done services on several occasions,' the elephant answered;
'but those who were favored were so small that they can now do nothing
for a great body like me.'
"'Tell me one of them,' said the priest.
"'Last year,' said the elephant, 'the prince of this province had
captured the king of the rats, and a great many of his subjects. He had
them in earthen jars, and was about to drown them; but I came along in
the night and broke all the jars, so that the rats ran away and were
free.
[Illustration: REFUSING TO MOVE ON.]
"'And another time a man had the queen of the tribe of the parrots in a
cage, and hung it on a tree where nobody could reach it. I pulled the
tree down and broke the cage, so that the queen flew away to her
companions.'
"Just then the scream of a parrot was heard from a neighboring tree, and
the priest said to the elephant,
"'Call that parrot, and ask him to go and tell his queen to come and see
her benefactor, who is now in trouble?
"The elephant protested that it would be of no use, as the parrot could
not help him in any way, no matter how willing she was to do so. But the
priest insisted, and the elephant obeyed.
"In a little while the queen came, and then the priest told the elephant
to send her with a message to the king of the rats. Away she flew, and
told the rat king how their old benefactor had fallen into a pit.
"The king sent out his messengers to all parts of his dominions, and by
the next morning they were assembled to the number of several millions.
The king ordered them to follow him, and they went to where the elephant
was entrapped. The parrot queen was there ahead of them, and she had
brought millions of her subjects. The guards were now awake, but the
parrot queen talked to them and amused them, and she kept flying off a
little way at a time, till she drew them out of sight of the pit. Then
the rats began scratching at the edge of the pit; and though each of
them only threw down a very little earth at a time, there was soon a
large path sloping to where the elephant stood. At the same time the
millions of parrots began breaking little twigs from the trees, and
dropping them into the pit; the elephant piled these twigs and the earth
beneath him, and in a few hours he walked out of the pit, and away into
the forest, where he joined his companions and told them what had
happened.
"'Who would have thought,' he said to his fellow-elephants, 'that the
largest animal in the world could be saved by such insignificant
creatures as the parrot and the rat. Hereafter I will never despise
small things, or despair of being brought out of trouble. Good actions
will be rewarded, no matter how insignificant may be their recipient.'"
"A very pretty story!" exclaimed both the boys in a breath.
"It is a story with a moral," Doctor Bronson answered; "and I leave you
to apply it while we have a little more talk about the elephant."
"A baby elephant is about the most amusing beast in the world; he is
affectionate and playful to a high degree, and there is little
difficulty in taming him. Very often the young elephants are taken in
the corrals with their mothers, whom they follow to the tying-down
place, and thence to the stables when the captives are released from
their bonds. A gentleman at Colombo had one that was sent down to his
house from the corral where he was taken, and he very soon became a
favorite with everybody about the place. He stayed generally near the
kitchen, where he picked up a good many things of which he was fond; and
sometimes, when the gentleman was walking in the grounds, the young
giant would come to him and twine his trunk around his arm, to indicate
that he wanted to be taken to the fruit-trees. He used to be admitted to
the dining-room, and helped to fruit at dessert, and he finally got to
coming in at odd times when not invited. On two or three occasions he
managed to break all the glasses on a sideboard, while reaching for some
oranges in a basket, and finally he became so mischievous that he had to
be sent away. While he was at the house the grass-cutters occasionally
placed their loads of grass on his back, and whenever this was done he
strutted off with an air of the greatest pride at the confidence that
was shown in him. After he was sent to the government stables he became
very docile; and when his turn came for work, he performed it to the
satisfaction of everybody.
[Illustration: SLIDING DOWN HILL.]
"It is said that elephants amuse themselves by sliding downhill; but
they do not use sleds, like boys in America. Natives who claim to have
witnessed these performances say that the huge beasts enter into the
sport with great enthusiasm, and keep it up for hours.
[Illustration: ELEPHANT-HUNTING ON FOOT.]
"Elephants are hunted with the rifle by English and other sportsmen; and
thousands of them have been killed in this way for the sake of their
tusks, or for mere amusement. Their number has been so much diminished
by this means, that in India and Ceylon the government has taken the
elephant under its protection, and it can only be pursued and
slaughtered by the express permission of the officials. At present the
paradise of elephant-hunters is in Africa. The African elephant is much
like his Asiatic brother; but his ear is nearly three times as large as
that of the latter, and his skin has fewer hairs upon it.
"He is a vicious brute, and often turns on his hunter and puts him to a
rapid flight. I have read of an Englishman who was one day chasing an
African elephant, and, after a great deal of manoeuvring, got near
enough to give him a shot. It was fortunate for the hunter that he was
well-mounted and had a firm seat in his saddle, as the wounded elephant
turned after the shot was fired and crashed through the bushes in the
direction of his assailant. Horse and rider had a narrow escape, and the
two dogs that accompanied the sportsman came in for a share of the
fright. The hunter concluded that he would let the elephant go his way
unmolested; and when the enraged animal turned back into the forest he
was not followed."
"It reminds me," said the consul, "of the story of the army officer in
India who was asked if he found tiger-hunting a pleasant amusement.
'Hunting the tiger,' said he, 'is very pleasant as long as the tiger is
hunted; but when he turns and hunts you, the pleasure ceases
altogether.'"
[Illustration: THE HUNTER HUNTED.]
"It is about the same with the chase of the wild elephant," the Doctor
remarked. As he said it, the servant announced the readiness of
something to eat in the cabin, and the conversation was suspended until
the party was seated at table.
"In some parts of the East," Doctor Bronson continued, "it is the custom
for princes and kings to give grand entertainments in the shape of
elephant fights. Sometimes two elephants are matched together; but quite
as often they are pitted against some other beast. Formerly these fights
were carried on till one of the combatants was dead or severely hurt;
but at present an effort is made to keep them from injuring each other,
and the fight is little more than a series of rather violent pushes from
one side of the ring to the other.
"Mr. Crawfurd, who was sent at the head of an embassy from the
Governor-general of India to Siam and Cochin China in 1821, was present
at a tiger and elephant fight in Saigon. His account is interesting in
two ways; it shows the manner of conducting one of these fights, and
gives us a glimpse at the manners of the Far East sixty years ago. After
detailing his reception by the governor, he says:
"We were invited to be present at an elephant and tiger fight, and
for this purpose we mounted our elephants and repaired to the
glacis of the fort, where the combat was to take place. A great
concourse of people had assembled to witness the exhibition. The
tiger was secured to a stake by a rope tied round his loins, and
about thirty yards long. The mouth of the unfortunate animal was
sewn up, and his nails drawn out; he was of large size, and
extremely active. No less than forty-six elephants, all males and
of great size, were seen drawn out in line. One at a time was
brought to attack the tiger.
"The first elephant advanced, to all appearance, with a great show
of courage, and we thought, from his determined look, that he would
certainly have despatched his antagonist in an instant. At the
first effort he raised the tiger on his tusks to a considerable
height, and threw him to the distance of at least twenty feet.
Notwithstanding this, the tiger rallied and sprung upon the
elephant's trunk and head, up to the very keeper, who was upon his
neck. The elephant took alarm, wheeled about, and ran off, pursued
by the tiger as far as the rope would allow him. The fugitive,
although not hurt, roared most piteously, and no effort could bring
him back to the charge. A little after this, we saw a man brought
up to the governor, bound with cords, and dragged into his presence
by two officers.
"'This was the conductor of the recreant elephant. A hundred
strokes of the bamboo were ordered to be inflicted upon him on the
spot. For this purpose he was thrown on his face on the ground, and
secured by one man sitting astride upon his neck and shoulders, and
by another sitting upon his feet, a succession of executioners
inflicting the punishment. When it was over, two men carried off
the sufferer by the head and heels, apparently quite insensible.
"'While this outrage was perpetrating, the governor coolly viewed
the combat of the tiger and elephant, as if nothing else particular
had been going forward. Ten or twelve elephants were brought up in
succession to attack the tiger, which was killed at last, merely by
the astonishing falls he received when tossed off the tusks of the
elephants. The prodigious strength of these animals was far beyond
anything I could have supposed. Some of them tossed the tiger to a
distance of at least thirty feet, after he was nearly lifeless, and
could offer no resistance. We could not reflect without horror that
these very individual animals were the same that have for years
executed the sentence of the law upon the many malefactors
condemned to death. Upon these occasions, a single toss, such as I
have described, is always, I am told, sufficient to destroy life.'"
[Illustration: TAKING A NAP.]