The evening shadows and silence had settled on the river Hooghly as an
old Brahman wended his way to one of the many ghats (landing places).
The dinghis--little boats which ply backwards and forwards all day
carrying passengers to and from Calcutta--had all been made fast
for the night. Some of the boatmen were cooking their evening meal,
while others sat about on the decks smoking and singing. Many of the
boats were wedged close together and drawn up on to the bank.
But one lay well in the water and some distance from its
fellow-craft. Its manjhi (headman) stood on the stern deck, binding
together the mat roof of his boat. His seemingly careless gaze took
in the Brahman, about to descend the bank. He noted that the old man
carried a parcel, partially concealed in his chadar (scarf), and,
from the manner in which he hugged it, the observer concluded it
contained something valuable. As the Brahman came nearer, the manjhi
saw it was a bag of money.
The old man picked his way down the bank and called upon boat after
boat to take him to a small village near Serampore, for in those days
there was no railway. None were willing to go so far. Meanwhile a
whispered consultation had taken place between the manjhi and dhars
(oarsmen) of the furthest dinghi. When the Brahman finally accosted
them, they first demurred and then, as though still reluctant,
consented to hire their boat.
Just as they were pushing off, a man with a performing bear ran down
the bank. "Where goest thou?" he asked.
"Serampore" answered the Brahman before the boatman could reply.
"My home is near by," the man remarked gladly, and jumped into the
boat, pulling his bear after him.
The boatmen scowled angrily: "Get out, we go not so far." But he
would not. The manjhi warned him that he and his bear would gain
nothing by forcing themselves into the boat.
"These boatmen are queer customers," he laughingly remarked to the
Brahman, and to them: "Gain nothing! Why! I will reach my home."
"So you say," they answered.
The bear-man wondered within himself at their unwillingness to have
him as a passenger. He and the old Brahman made a few remarks to each
other. Then they fell silent.
They were near the end of their journey when the bear-man asked
suddenly: "Manjhi, have we not passed Serampore?"
"Are you the guru of boatmen that you question me?" replied the
manjhi, and then, in a more conciliatory tone, added: "We are going
higher up for a crossing. The tide is strong." The explanation was
reasonable. But the bear-man's suspicions had been awakened and he
was on the alert. The Brahman sat placidly nursing his bag which the
bear-man too had noticed contained money. He had also noticed that
the manjhis kept glancing furtively at it and its owner.
The river crossed, the boat hugged the bank; after a time it came
to a standstill. One of the manjhis jumped ashore with the rope
and secured it to a tree. The Brahman and the bear-man both asked:
"What is wrong? Why stop the boat in this strange place?"
"You will soon know, you will soon see," answered the boatmen and
chuckled over some secret joke as, one after another, each stepped
ashore and disappeared.
The aged Brahman gazed after them apprehensively. Then, placing his
money between his knees, as he sat on the deck with crossed legs tucked
under him, he folded his hands together and bent forward in prayer.
The bear-man thought within himself: "Prayer for him, action for
me." And saying softly to the old man; "Brahman Thakoor, something
is brewing. I follow to see," he too stepped ashore.
Not far from the tree he found a small thatched house and several
men gathered behind it. Moving warily forward among the group he
recognised the manjhis. "Dacoits!" he whispered to himself. Then an
inspiration struck him.
He ran back to the boat, and asked the Brahman to change his seat
to the stern and be ready to steer off when he gave him a signal. He
took up a position in the prow and fondled his bear.
Within a few minutes a party of men appeared coming towards the
dinghi. Some were boatmen; all were dacoits.
The actor loosed the bear's chain, saying: "Go! go! hug the life out
of all of them!"
The sagacious animal responded to his master's order with a fierce
charge right among the approaching band of robbers. With startled
cries they fled in all directions. Quite sure they were effectively
scattered, the bear-man called his animal back, secured its chain
once more, and pushed from the shore.
With some difficulty he and the old Brahman navigated themselves back
to Calcutta and informed the police authorities there. The police
took possession of the dinghi which on inspection proved to be a
dacoit's nest well-equipped with instruments fitted for murder and
robbery. But none of this gang of river dacoits were captured.
The lives of the Brahman and the showman were certainly saved by the
wonderful intelligence of the latter's bear.