WE HUNT TIGERS, AND DISCOVER SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
It was late, very late, when we awoke the next morning.
“The sun is already high in the heavens,” said Prabu. “Hasten; as it is
we shall not reach the hunting-party in time to set out with them.”
“Bother, how we have slept! Why did you not arouse us earlier?” said
Martin.
However, in a very short time we had finished our breakfast, and
with our rifles (which, by the way, the chief of Mojopahit had
thoughtfully provided for us) slung across our backs, and our creeses
in our girdles, we were urging our slow but sure-footed ponies in the
direction of Marang. But unfortunately the place of rendezvous was a
full mile on the other side of the city. Thus, upon reaching it, we
were mortified to find that the Pangeran and his party had started
nearly two hours before. It was vexatious, for Prabu was ignorant
of the route; fortunately, however, we procured a guide, and off we
started. Our course lay through a country as wild as that through which
we had traveled some days before; and never do I remember seeing so
much game in so short a time: bustards, cranes, jackals, foxes, and
even wild buffaloes, and pigs, were either in our path, or to be seen
upon all sides.
“Far better remain here, and bag a few of these animals, Martin, than
run the risk of getting our necks beneath a tiger’s claws.”
“Perhaps so,” he replied; “but I have long wished to see a tiger-hunt,
and, therefore, I for one won’t lose so good an opportunity, but
onward. Do urge on that worse than donkey of yours, old fellow!”
Onward we went; beating as we went the bushes, dank weeds, long grass,
and jungle; at times trampling upon snakes--at another narrowly
escaping being gored by a wild pig we startled out of a comfortable
nap. Then, in some of the open places, near pools of standing water, we
fell in at last with the footprints of tigers, by which we knew that
we were on the right track. After a ride of ten miles, and as we were
descending the slope of a hill, we caught sight of the hunting-party.
They had halted in a plain covered with high jungle-grass and thick
bushes.
“They have found the tigers,” cried Prabu. “Quick!” but greatly as we
increased our speed, we were not in time for the beginning of the hunt.
We saw, however, their plan of action. The spearmen, about a hundred in
number, were distributed in a circle around an immense thicket, and,
sprinkled among them, were men with drums, tom-toms, and many other
_un_musical instruments.
“Who are in those howdahs, Prabu?” I asked, pointing to three
elephants, which stood in line with their tails toward us, and at
intervals of a hundred yards each.
“That to the left,” he replied, “contains the Dutch envoy, the next
holds the Pangeran, and the other, which is nearest those teak trees
and with the spearmen-guard around, contains the chief ladies of his
Highness’s household.”
“Very good,” said Martin; “then, as we have no especial desire to
run into the lion’s jaws, or, in other words, catch the eye of his
Excellency the Dutchman, we will advance by the ladies’ elephant.”
But as we spoke the drums were beaten, and the spearmen began to narrow
their circle, till they were near enough to the thicket to thrust their
weapons into it; at the same time, eager to be nearer the scene of
action, the envoy and Pangeran moved forward their elephants till their
chests touched the prickly canes. _We_ rested for a minute to watch
their movements.
Suddenly the spearmen gave a terrific yell, and, beating their way into
the thicket, were soon lost to view. The prince and envoy followed; the
huge beasts upon which they sat forcing their own way by the strength
and bulk of their bodies.
“They have started a whole den,” cried Prabu; “the tigers will be out
either at the back or the front. Follow! but,” he added, “they may come
out at this side--be wary--reserve your fire till the last moment!”
Having given this caution he gallantly dashed forward, and entered the
thicket through the opening made by the elephants.
“Come on, Claud; don’t lag! This is fine sport!” cried Martin.
We set our ponies at a canter, and made for an opening about a dozen
yards to the left of that entered by Prabu, having no desire to get
up with the elephants and their riders, but at the very entrance the
animals stood stock-still, with their fore legs stretched forward, and
began to snort, and tremble from their backs to their hoofs.
“The beasts scent an enemy, Martin; dismount.”
In an instant we were upon our feet, and the animals, taking advantage
of the change, turned tail and scampered off in a style that somewhat
astonished us, after our experience of their regulation speed.
“It is my opinion we have done a foolish act,” said I, chagrined at the
escape of the horses.
“More foolish to remain half-way. Onward, through the thicket, Claud,”
replied my brother.
But a terrific growl, and a huge tigress, with a spear through her
shoulder, leaped forth, and miraculously _passed_ us. In her rage, and
probable pain, no less than fear at the great number of her enemies,
she darted by unheedingly of two such puny hunters as ourselves; but
suddenly she stopped to attack a nobler prey--the elephant with the
ladies on its back! The spearmen-guard fled like cowards, as they
were--then slaying the poor mahout with a single blow of her paw, the
savage cat, gnashing her teeth, roaring and foaming with rage, leaped
upon the elephant’s back, clinging with her huge claws to the frail
howdah.
“The women! the women!--to their rescue!” shouted my brother.
I was, for the moment, bewildered; and, clutching his arm, cried,--
“Stay!--for Heaven’s sake, stay! It would be madness to go!”
“Stand by, Claud!” he replied, fiercely, shaking me off--“it would be
_cowardice_ to remain here!” and running up to the elephant, he took
quick aim--too quick, for the bullet but grazing its sides, the beast,
hearing the approach of its new enemy, crouched down, lashed her tail
with fury, and gave one sharp, long growl. Martin drew his creese,
but it would have been as useless as a bodkin to have preserved his
life, had not a bullet from my rifle caused the animal to reel over;
taking instant advantage of this, my brother again and again plunged
his weapon into its sides. The brute being killed, we clambered to the
assistance of the shrieking women within the howdah. Tearing aside the
curtains, we saw two girls, half dead with fright, supporting the form
of another. But at the sight of that other, I exclaimed,--
“Thank God, Martin, _you_ were _no_ coward!”
“Marie, Marie!--our cousin! She is lifeless--perhaps, dying! Water,
Claud, water!” but it was unnecessary, she had but swooned, for
reviving, she took a hand of each, saying,--
“My cousins, my dear cousins! Heaven alone must have sent you to our
aid. It was at your peril I fainted. But the Princess?” she said,
turning to one of her companions.
“Is, thanks to these brave sahibs, dear Marie, unharmed.”
“How is it that _you_ are here in this howdah? Who are these ladies?”
asked Martin, very savagely, for, as he afterwards told me, he feared
that all three were the wives of the Pangeran.
“Dear Martin,” she replied, “you frighten me with that fierce look.
These ladies are the daughter of the Prince and her attendants, and
I am here as the friend and companion of the Princess. But, my dear
cousin, how rejoiced am I to see you, for they told me you were dead.”
“Dead!” he replied, as fiercely as before; “no, not at all dead!--but,
I tell you, Marie, I either soon shall be, or take you from such
heathen companionship. But, dear Marie, what is this Prince like?--is
he young or old?--good-natured or cruel? How is it that you are in his
household?”
“I don’t know, Martin. I have never seen him.”
“Don’t know!--have never seen him?” repeated my brother, incredulously.
“No,” she replied; “but I shall now for the first time. See, he is
coming toward us; some of the slaves have warned him of his daughter’s
danger.”
It had been as Marie surmised; warned of his child’s peril, the
Pangeran had dismounted from his elephant, and, taking an attendant’s
horse, now came galloping up to us. The slain mahout--the dead
tiger--his daughter and her companions apparently in close converse, at
once told him the story of her late peril, and to whom he was indebted
for her present safety.
“Allah be praised! my daughter is safe,” he exclaimed. “To the brave
young sahibs, whoever they are, I am indebted for the preservation of
her dear life; let them ask what they will that it is in my power to
bestow, it shall not be refused.” But, gazing upon him as he spoke,
we were astonished. It would be impossible to describe the surprise
expressed upon the features of Marie and my brother.
“By jingo, it’s Madame Ebberfeld’s cousin, the Prince; we are then in
the very heart of the conspiracy,” said Martin. The Prince, in his turn
surprised at the words, said,--
“Who, then, are you, who speak so glibly of Madame Ebberfeld, and her
cousin, the Prince?” Then, as if suddenly remembering our features, he
exclaimed,--
“Ah, I see--God is great! the brave sahibs are Madame’s nephews.”
“We _are_,” replied Martin, firmly, “and _you_ are the man, then, who
stole away our cousin; but you have said that you could refuse us
nothing; give us, then, at once our cousin, and we will forgive you all
the past.”
“The young Sahib is hasty, let him bridle his impatience till we return
to the palace.”
“No, not I, you are evading my request; I will not budge an inch till
you have promised that we may take her from this place when we choose,”
and the foolish fellow held his naked creese in his hand, as if ready
to defy the Pangeran and all his retainers. To my astonishment, the
Prince, although he at first bit his nether lip with vexation, only
smiled at this Captain Bobadil style of proceeding. Many of the
natives, however, who had by this time flocked around, placed their
hands upon their creeses, and their eyes upon those of their master;
a single glance from the latter, and there would have been a speedy
termination to the Quixotic Martin’s career. But that glance was not
given, the Prince mildly begged that he would be patient, and that as
soon as he had communicated with Mynheer Ebberfeld, Marie’s guardian,
she should be delivered to us. But this reply added fuel to the fire:
it nearly drove my brother frantic.
“Mynheer Ebberfeld,” he exclaimed, “is a rogue; he it was who caused
her to be stolen away. No, Prince,” he added, “you may kill me, if
you will; it will be a grateful return for the preservation of your
daughter’s life, but I will not budge from here, nor permit my cousin,
either, until the envoy comes up; he is a Dutchman, and powerful, and
although he may seize upon me as an associate of the enemies of his
Government, I will demand my cousin at his hands.”
“Then, if the young Sahib will not be patient, I must,” replied the
Pangeran good-humoredly; “we will await here the coming of the envoy;
but the Hollander, with haste and impatience like unto your own young
man, quitted his elephant, and proceeded into the jungle on foot with
the spearmen. But what means this--what has happened?” he exclaimed, as
with a strange yelling noise a party of spearmen, headed by Prabu, came
through the thicket, bearing what appeared to be the body of a man upon
an improvised litter formed by their spears.
As they approached, the Prince and his party became silent--silent as
death in breathless suspense, but when the litter was set upon the
earth his Highness exclaimed,--
“God is great, it is the envoy, dead or sadly wounded.”
“Not dead,” murmured the wounded man, “thanks to the brave Prabu, who
saved me from the tiger’s jaws, and so insured me at least Christian
burial--yet dying.” But as he fixed his fast-closing eyes first upon
the howdah, and then upon Martin and me, he exclaimed,--
“But yon girl, what does she here at this moment?--those young men,
what demon hath brought them to witness my punishment?” He swooned from
pain and loss of blood, which was gushing from the wounds in his neck
and chest, made by the tiger’s claws. Need my reader be told that in
the Dutch envoy we saw
MYNHEER EBBERFELD.
The conspiracy against us three cousins was being gradually unraveled,
but the suffering of our enemy made us forget our enmity.
“_We can hate no longer_, Claud, for God hath taken unto himself the
punishment of the robber of the orphan.”
“But we can do more, my cousins,” said Marie, and slipping down the
side of the elephant before we could even go to her aid, she ran to
the dying man, and, kneeling, added, “We can forgive, for we are
Christians.”
“Marie,” exclaimed Martin, as, going forward, he and I knelt by her
side, “you have taught us our duty; let us pray God to pardon this
dying sinner.”
What must have been the feelings of that bad man, as, recovering from
his swoon, he saw kneeling and praying to God for his forgiveness, the
orphans he had so deeply injured, I know not; but with his last breath
he said,--
“Marie, I have heard of angels--surely you must be akin to them, for
you pray for me who ruined you. Boys! had I lived another month, your
whole fortune would also have been lost to you; Prince,” he added,
turning to the Pangeran, “to thee as to all I have been false, examine
the papers in my house, and you will see that had Heaven extended my
life another moon, you would have been sacrificed; but I ask not _your_
forgiveness, it is not in the nature of a Javanese to pardon so great
an enemy.”
At this but too plain intimation of his treachery toward himself,
the Pangeran gnashed his teeth, but the sight of three young people
in prayer for the forgiveness of their direst enemy softened even his
savage nature.
“Ebberfeld, thou bold, bad man,” he said, taking his hand, “thou art
wrong even in this; there is no nature so savage that may not be taught
by good deeds; even I forgive thee, for the voice of Allah speaks to my
heart through the lips of these children.”
But Mynheer spoke no more--he had died; and let us hope in such a
thorough heartfelt repentance that his soul passed into the keeping
of his Creator. But enough of this sorry scene and sad ending to that
day’s sport for which Martin had so long wished; such an ending,
however, is not an uncommon one in the East, but then hunters are more
prone to describe their victories than their defeats. But there were
two other sufferers by the day’s hunting--the poor mahout who had been
slain by the tiger, and the noble elephant. It was with difficulty we
could coax the beast from the body of his late friend and master. His
almost human sorrow reminded me of a story I had once read, and which I
must be pardoned for repeating here.
“A tiger having attacked a party who were traveling in a howdah, and
slain the mahout or driver, the elephant slew the beast with his feet;
but the noble animal had not saved his friend, so, says the narrator,
he became abstracted in gloomy contemplation, and gazed with more
than human sympathy upon the dying mahout. He noticed us not! and as
his eye fell on the dead tiger, he stamped, looked fierce, and made a
trumpeting noise as if in triumph at having avenged his friend’s death!
Then, as if remembering he had avenged, but not saved, his ears and
trunk drooped, and though he himself was torn and bleeding, his moist
and thoughtful eye gave token that all his feelings were absorbed in
grief for him he had lost. He stood over and watched the men who were
making a kind of litter for the purpose of carrying away the dead man,
with the anxiety and grief of the most affectionate of friends, nor
would he touch food for some days afterwards. Truly, I could never tire
of relating anecdotes of this noble creature.”