Showing what happened to Phileas Fogg and his Companions as they
traversed the Forest.
The guide, hoping to shorten the journey, kept to the left of the
railroad line, which would be carried in a circuitous manner through
the Vindhia Mountains when completed. The Parsee, who was well
acquainted with all the byways, declared that twenty miles would be
saved by striking directly across the forest; so the party yielded.
Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, buried up to their necks in the howdahs, got
terribly shaken by the rough trotting of the elephant, which was urged
by the driver. But they put up with the inconvenience with true
British self-restraint; they spoke but seldom and scarcely looked at
each other.
Passe-partout was obliged to be very careful not to keep his tongue
between his teeth, else it would have been bitten off, so unmercifully
was he jogged up and down. The brave fellow, sometimes thrown forward
on the animal's neck, sometimes upon the croup, performed a series of
vaulting movements something like a circus clown on the
"spring-board." But all the time he joked and laughed at the
somersaults he performed so involuntarily; occasionally he took out a
lump of sugar from his pocket and handed it to Kiouni, who took it in
his trunk without slackening his pace for a second.
After proceeding thus for a couple of hours, the driver called a halt
and gave the elephant an hour's rest. The animal ate all the branches
and shrubs in the vicinity, as soon as he had quenched his thirst at a
neighbouring spring. Sir Francis did not complain of this delay; he
was terribly bruised. Mr. Fogg did not appear any more discomposed
than if he had only got out of bed.
"He is a man of iron!" exclaimed the general, as he gazed at his
companion admiringly.
"Of hammered iron," replied Passe-partout, who was preparing a hasty
breakfast.
At noon the driver gave the signal for departure. The country soon
became very wild. The dense forest was succeeded by groves of dates
and palms; then came extensive arid plains dotted here and there with
bushes, and sprinkled with immense blocks of syenite. The whole of
this region of Bundelcund, which is seldom traversed, is inhabited by
a fanatical people inured to the most fearful practices of the
Hindoos. The English Government has scarcely yet entirely obtained the
control over this region, which is ruled by rajahs, who are very
difficult to bring to book from their almost inaccessible mountain
fastnesses. Many times the travellers noticed bands of fierce natives,
who gesticulated angrily at perceiving the swift-footed elephant pass
by; and the Parsee took care to give them all a wide berth. They
encountered very few wild animals; even monkeys were not numerous, and
they fled away with grimaces and gestures, which amused Passe-partout
very much indeed.
One reflection, however, troubled Passe-partout exceedingly, and that
was how would his master dispose of the elephant when they reached
Allahabad? Would he take it on with him? That was scarcely possible.
The price of conveyance, added to the purchase-money, would be
ruinous. Would he sell the beast or set him free? No doubt the animal
deserved some consideration. Suppose Mr. Fogg made him, Passe-partout,
a present of the elephant? He would feel very much embarrassed. So
these considerations worried the valet not a little.
At eight o'clock they had crossed the principal heights of the Vindhia
chain, and at a ruined bungalow upon the southern slope of the
mountains our travellers halted again.
The distance traversed was about twenty-five miles, and they had still
as far to go to reach Allahabad. The night was quite chilly. A fire
lighted by the Parsee was very acceptable, and the travellers made an
excellent supper of the provisions they had purchased at Kholby. The
intermittent conversation soon gave way to steady snoring. The guide
kept watch by the elephant, which slept outside, supported by the
trunk of an enormous tree.
Nothing happened to disturb the party during the night. Now and then
the growls of wild animals, or the chattering of monkeys, broke the
silence, but nothing more terrible was heard, and the larger animals
did not disturb the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis Cromarty
"lay like a warrior taking his rest." Passe-partout, in a restless
sleep, appeared to be practising the gymnastics he had executed on the
elephant's back. As for Mr. Fogg, he slept as peacefully as if he were
in his quiet bed in Saville Row.
At six o'clock they resumed their journey. The guide hoped to reach
Allahabad that evening. In that case Mr. Fogg would only lose a
portion of the eight-and-forty hours already saved since the
commencement of the trip.
They descended the last slopes of the Vindhias. The elephant resumed
his rapid pace. Towards mid-day the guide passed round the village of
Kallenger on the Cani, one of the small affluents of the Ganges. He
appeared to avoid all inhabited places, feeling more secure in the
deserted tracts. Allahabad was thence only a dozen miles off in a
north-easterly direction. They halted once more under a banana-tree,
the fruit of which, as wholesome as bread and "as succulent as cream,"
as they said, was highly appreciated by our travellers.
At two o'clock they entered a dense forest, which they had to traverse
for some miles. The guide preferred to travel in the shade of the
woods. So far at any rate they had encountered nothing unpleasant, and
there was every reason to suppose that the journey would be
accomplished without accident, when the elephant, after a few
premonitory symptoms, stopped suddenly.
It was then four o'clock in the afternoon.
"What is the matter?" asked Sir Francis Cromarty, putting his head up
over the top of his howdah.
"I don't know, sir," replied the Parsee, listening intently to a
confused murmuring sound which came through the thickly-interlacing
branches.
Soon the sound became more defined. One might have fancied it was a
concert at a great distance; composed of human voices and brass
instruments all performing at once. Passe-partout was all eyes and
ears. Mr. Fogg waited patiently without uttering a word.
The Parsee leaped down, fastened the elephant to a tree, and plunged
into the thick underwood. In a few moments he came back, exclaiming:
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way! Let us hide ourselves if
we can."
As he spoke he loosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, bidding
the travellers to stay where they were. He was ready to remount should
flight be necessary, but he thought that the procession would pass
without noticing the party, for the thick foliage completely concealed
them.
The discordant sounds kept approaching--a monotonous kind of chant,
mingled with the beating of tom-toms and the clash of cymbals. The
head of the procession soon became visible beneath the trees about
fifty paces off, and Mr. Fogg and his party easily distinguished the
curious individuals who composed it.
The priests, wearing mitres and long robes trimmed with lace, marched
in front. They were surrounded by a motley crowd of men, women, and
children, who were chanting a sort of funeral hymn, broken at
intervals by the sound of the various instruments. Behind these came,
on a car (the large wheels of which, spokes and all, were ornamented
with the similitude of serpents), a hideous figure drawn by four
richly-caparisoned zebus. This idol had four arms, the body was
painted a dusky red, with staring eyes, matted hair, a protruding
tongue, and lips tinted with henna and betel. Round its neck was hung
a necklace of skulls, and it was girt with a zone of human hands; it
stood upright upon the headless trunk of a giant figure.
Sir Francis Cromarty recognised the idol at once.
"That is the goddess Káli," he whispered; "the goddess of love and of
death."
"Of death I can understand, but not of love," muttered Passe-partout;
"what a villainous hag it is!"
The Parsee signed to him to hold his tongue.
Around the idol a number of fakirs danced and twirled about.
These wretches were daubed with ochre, and covered with wounds, from
which the blood issued drop by drop; absurd idiots, who would throw
themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut's chariot had they the
opportunity.
Behind these fanatics marched some Brahmins, clad in all their
oriental sumptuousness of garb, dragging a woman along, who faltered
at each step.
This female was young, and as white as a European. Her head, neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and ankles were covered with jewels,
bracelets, or rings. A gold-laced tunic, over which she wore a thin
muslin robe, revealed the swelling contours of her form.
Behind this young woman, and in violent contrast to her, came a guard,
armed with naked sabres and long damascened pistols, carrying a dead
body in a palanquin.
The corpse was that of an old man clothed in the rich dress of a
rajah; the turban embroidered with pearls, the robe of silk tissue and
gold, the girdle of cashmere studded with diamonds, and wearing the
beautiful weapons of an Indian prince.
The musicians brought up the rear with a guard of fanatics, whose
cries even drowned the noise of the instruments at times. These closed
the _cortége_.
Sir Francis Cromarty watched the procession pass by and his face wore
a peculiarly saddened expression. Turning to the guide, he said:
"Is it a suttee?"
The Parsee made a sign in the affirmative, and put his fingers on his
lips. The long procession wended its way slowly amongst the trees, and
before long the last of it disappeared in the depths of the forest.
The music gradually died away, occasionally a few cries could be
heard, but soon they ceased, and silence reigned around.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis had said, and as soon as the
procession had passed out of sight, he said:
"What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," replied the general, "is a human sacrifice--but a
voluntary one. That woman you saw just now will be burned to-morrow
morning at daylight."
"The scoundrels!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who could not repress his
indignation.
"And that dead body?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of her husband--a prince," replied the guide. "He was an
independent rajah in Bundelcund."
"Do you mean to say that these barbarous customs still obtain in
India--under British rule?" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any
emotion whatever.
"In the greater portion of India," replied Sir Francis Cromarty,
"these sacrifices do not take place; but we have no authority in the
savage districts, one of the principal of which is Bundelcund. The
entire district north of the Vindhia range is the theatre of pillage
and murder."
"Poor creature," exclaimed Passe-partout; "burned alive!"
"Yes," continued the general, "burned alive; and if she was not, you
have no idea to what a wretched condition she would be reduced by her
relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her very scantily upon
rice, and hold no communication with her, for she would be regarded as
unclean, and would die like a dog. The prospect of such treatment,
even more strongly than affection or religious fanaticism, often urges
the widows to submit themselves to suttee. Sometimes, however, the act
is really voluntary, and energetic interference by the Government is
necessary to prevent it. Some years ago, when I was in Bombay, a young
widow asked the governor's leave to be burned with her late husband's
body. As you may imagine, he refused her request. Then the
disconsolate widow left the town, took refuge with an independent
rajah, and burned herself, to the satisfaction of all concerned."
As the general proceeded, the guide nodded in assent to the
truthfulness of the relation, and when the speaker had finished, the
Parsee said:
"But the suttee to take place to-morrow is not voluntary."
"How do you know?"
"Everyone in Bundelcund knows that," replied the guide.
"Yet the unfortunate woman offered no resistance," said Sir Francis
Cromarty.
"Because she was drugged with hemp and opium," replied the Parsee.
"But whither are they taking her?"
"To the Pagoda of Pillaji, two miles away from here. There she will
pass the night, and wait for the hour appointed for the sacrifice."
"And the sacrifice will take place?"
"At dawn to-morrow."
As he spoke, the guide led forth the elephant and clambered up to his
seat on its neck; but just as he was about to whistle to the animal to
proceed, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and said to Sir Francis Cromarty,
"Suppose we save this woman?"
"Save her!" exclaimed the general.
"I have still twelve hours to spare," continued Fogg; "I can devote
that time to the purpose."
"Well, I declare you are a man with a heart in the right place," cried
Sir Francis.
"Sometimes it is," replied Mr. Fogg, smiling grimly, "when I have
time!"