INDUSTRIES AND OCCUPATIONS
Agriculture--Industries--Weaving, iron and copper
mining--Commerce and industrial products--Food
supplies--Fishing--How we once fished with
dynamite--Hunting--Various methods of big-game hunting--My
first elephant hunt--Some useful hints to big-game
hunters--Poisons--Arms and weapons of defence--The tiger, a
dangerous neighbour--A bathing tragedy.
The principal industry of the Moï is the cultivation of rice. The
method adopted, however, is unlike that of the Annamites of the
plains. Instead of cultivating a rice-field by continuous irrigation
which produces three crops a year, the Moï wait until November, the
end of the rainy season. They then clear a portion of the forest large
enough to raise a crop for the entire population of the village. In
April they set fire to the fallen trunks which the sun has dried. For
several days the whole mountain is illuminated by these immense
braziers and the crackling of the timbers can be heard for miles
around. Finally the ground is covered with a layer of fine ashes,
which are washed into the soil by the first rains. Then begins the
sowing.
Armed with a pointed stick the women hollow trenches in the soil and
throw in the seed. The rains first and then the soil itself complete
their work. The baskets are soon full and the public granaries stocked
with the precious cereal. Good as a harvest may be, however, it is
seldom that a crop is sufficient to support the population till the
next. More often the supply runs short and the tribe has to subsist
for several weeks on bamboo shoots and forest roots.
Several times during my visit I tried to inculcate in the natives some
elementary notions of thrift and foresight. A "Pholy," or village
chief, once showed me in a word the weak point of my counsels. "If I
were to start putting by a store," he gravely told me, "my elder
brother, the white warrior, would take it from me to feed his escort."
I vigorously denied in the name of my kind any such evil intentions.
"In that case," he continued, "my younger brothers in the
neighbourhood would seize it. So I am prudent and keep no store at
all."
Now what answer could I have returned to that?
However, whether the Moï blames civilization or his very human
neighbours, it is certain that he is happy-go-lucky by nature and
lives from hand to mouth. His ignorance of economy may be ascribed to
two causes, one that he possesses nothing of his own, since all
property is held in common by the tribe, the other that Nature is so
bountiful as to render foresight generally unnecessary.
Quite otherwise is the character of the Annamite, who spares no pains
over the cultivation and improvement of his ricefields. His barn is
never empty. The Emperor of Annam himself sets the example and takes
part each year in sowing the grain which is destined for religious
sacrifices. By a long series of proclamations the Government has
raised the status of the tiller of the soil, for it is generally
accepted that the prosperity of the country depends more on its
agriculture than on the expansion of its commerce. As for the
profession of arms, it has long been regarded as a relic of ancient
barbarism.
Here is an example of one of these proclamations:
"The tiller of the soil is a man of worth. The police shall
never molest him. But he who bears arms is a brigand and my
sbires will treat him as such."
This is no doubt the origin of the popular scorn of the military
profession. A parallel is offered by France in the time of Sully, when
the interests of agriculture were the special concern of the
legislature.
Throughout the territories occupied by the Moï the cultivation of rice
is carried on alternatively with that of maize. In the fertile soil
this latter grows to an enormous size. On the plateau of Langbian it
is quite usual to find stalks thirteen to seventeen feet high.
Every household grows its own tobacco. Cigarettes are made by rolling
up tobacco in the dried leaves of the banana tree. In shape they
resemble an extended cone of which the small end is put in the mouth.
The pipes are of copper and have a long stem. An inner shell of bamboo
fibres is attached to the bottom of the bowl and the more this is
impregnated with nicotine the more it becomes an object of desire,
especially to the women. Even the babies play their part in this
little comedy, for they compete eagerly for a suck at the stick which
serves their fathers as a pipe-cleaner.
Industry is in its infancy and is confined to the manufacture of
simple objects of daily use, such as stout wicker baskets and glazed
pottery. These vessels are not baked in a furnace but dried in the
sun, and are consequently very brittle. Another staple manufacture is
the three-foot chandelier, surmounted by a torch of resin. The women
weave various coarse cloths of cotton. Their sole implement is a
weaving frame consisting of two pieces of wood between which are
stretched two sets of threads. The shuttle is worked by hand with a
fair degree of skill.
Without professing any great knowledge of the art of dyeing the women
are quite familiar with the properties of certain substances, of which
they take full advantage. Thus indigo furnishes black as well as two
shades of blue, a colour more highly esteemed. Yellow is obtained from
the saffron. Alum and filtered cinders are put to a similar use.
Cotton is bleached by soaking the material in a concoction of
rice-water boiled for several hours.
The needles which we bestowed on the most skilful of the housewives
were accepted and preserved by them as precious objects of art. These
ladies, as guardians of the ancient traditions, remained faithful to
ancestral custom and preferred to use a blunt brass pin, which
dispenses with the necessity for a thimble, the manipulation of which
passes their understanding.
Iron, though found almost everywhere in its natural state, is worked
by only a few tribes which have specialized in the industry. The anvil
consists either of a huge stone or of a block of metal encased in a
wooden armature. The hammer is fairly long and has a bamboo handle.
Bamboo cylinders convey the draught to the furnace. This rudimentary
equipment produces lances and knives of the greatest efficacy.
The extraction of iron is carried on by the Catalan method. The
mineral in its natural state is first mixed with a large quantity of
charcoal and then covered over with clay and collected into a kind of
circular bin made of bricks. The mixture is then stirred vigorously
for twenty-four hours, at the end of which it liquefies and falls into
three layers. The lower part is composed of iron of a very poor
quality, the upper mainly of ashes. The middle layer alone is of the
desired temper and can be prepared for all purposes by a vigorous
hammering.
All these operations are accompanied by a series of religious
sacrifices, for the genii of the mine must be propitiated, and copious
libations alone can humour their caprice. A special day, the fourth of
the month, is devoted to an annual festival in their honour.
A few groups manufacture gongs of copper, which is found just below
the surface of the soil. It seems to be the practice among these
tribes, as soon as copper-bearing lands have been discovered, to
secure seclusion and freedom from interference by expelling all the
inhabitants of the country around. This is certainly one explanation
of the weird stories which the evicted competitors tell of their
successful rivals. If the vanquished are to be believed, the industry
is carried on by the women, who live alone except for one annual visit
to their husbands. These women are not merely unnatural wives, but
also unnatural mothers, for they slay all their male children, keeping
only the girls. Their other characteristics are hardly less
formidable. They wield the lance with a skill and vigour of which any
man might be envious. They are always accompanied by dogs, and finally
(for a touch of the supernatural is inevitable), the legend runs that
their spinal column terminates in a short tail.
I was extremely curious to make the acquaintance of these Amazons, but
my informant invariably took refuge in silence when I pressed him for
information of their whereabouts.
Whatever may be the value of these stories, it is well known that in
this country, where money is unknown, gongs, pots and jars serve as
the medium of exchange. The measure of value is the antiquity of the
particular object. If it has several centuries behind it, its price
reaches a truly fantastic figure.
Perhaps the Moï recognize that the arts are on the decline and that
modern productions, if more attractive, are far less beautiful than
those of bygone ages. It is very unlikely, for their æsthetic sense is
still in an early stage of development.
The value of a red earthenware jar three feet in height and two
hundred years old is equal to that of thirty buffaloes. Another vessel
known as "The Mother and Child," which is composed of two jars of
different sizes joined after the manner of the Siamese twins, is worth
fifty buffaloes. At the top of the scale stands a vase worth one
hundred buffaloes, partly because it enjoys the reputation of being
unique and partly because it is adorned with the figure of a shapeless
and mysterious human being.
The same curious standards of taste are revealed in the sets of gongs
and tom-toms. These instruments are designed to give three or five
concords, by the blending of which every variant of the Moï scale may
be produced.
There is also a flourishing industry in the cultivation of cinnamon,
both for the home market and for export to China, which is the largest
customer for that product.
The hunters make long journeys for the purpose of exchanging
elephants' tusks and feet and rhinoceros horn. A horn of the latter
animal is ordinarily worth ten buffaloes among the Moï, but one which
is new and flawless has been known to fetch the enormous sum of five
hundred piastres, or fifty pounds in English money. The Annamites are
the most successful hunters and dealers. Every power aiming at
colonial expansion should concentrate its efforts on developing
commercial relations with the natives. Trade is the most potent agent
of conquest and the only one which brings prosperity and security in
its train.
We found fishing with dynamite another means of peaceful penetration
into these regions, though available only in places watered by a
stream or river. We made a point of inviting all the inhabitants of
the villages in the neighbourhood of our camp and it was seldom that
the audience was not large and representative, so great was the
interest roused by this operation. Judging by the horde of women which
issued from every hamlet and the enormous baskets brought by the
children we might have been setting out to clear the river of every
living creature in it. The men, who fish both for food and sport,
showed themselves very willing to indicate the favourite haunts of our
prey.
Curiosity was roused to the highest pitch by the preparation of the
charge and the Bickford train was an object of interest almost
approaching reverence. I fired a few inches of this and astonishment
knew no bounds. The younger members of my audience spoke openly of
sorcery, while the elder smiled in a knowing manner but kept at a safe
distance.
At length the charge was ready. I fired the end of the train and threw
the infernal machine, weighted with a stone, into the middle of the
water. The stone described a long parabola and fell into the dark
depths carrying the instrument of destruction after it. For some
seconds there was a deathly silence. Then a terrific explosion rent
the air and a column of smoke and steam rose from the surface of the
water to the height of the highest trees. There was a whirr of wings
as the birds scattered from the branches. The Moï gaped at each other
in amazement and prostrated themselves on the ground. Screams of fear
from the children announced their conviction that the genius of the
river, enraged at this intrusion on his dominions, was coming to carry
them off.
[Illustration: Fishing with Dynamite: After the Explosion.]
[Illustration: A Floating Village.]
[Illustration: A Typical Village in Laos.]
[Illustration: Primitive Irrigation in Laos.]
Soon the cloud vanished, transformed into a shower of refreshing rain.
Calm replaced the storm. The startled doves cautiously returned to
their nests. The stream flowed on, unruffled, forgetful. Suddenly a
few white specks appeared on the surface, vanished and reappeared in
ever-increasing numbers until the waters seemed alive. These were the
fish, their air-bladders burst by the force of the explosion and now
floundering helplessly at the mercy of the swift current. The crowning
moment had arrived. With one accord the spectators dived into the
stream to secure their easy prey. The more wary had armed
themselves with a _liane_, to which they fastened their victims by the
gills. The booty was then easily towed between their teeth.
The women and children were in the very forefront of the fray, and
there are few more entertaining spectacles than that of all these
babies racing each other amid screams of delight. In a few moments the
water was cleared of its shouting, struggling invaders, whose bronze
skins glistened beneath a silver film of pearly drops. One by one,
after adjusting their simple garb, they advanced to lay their booty in
a large basket at my feet, then withdrew with a delightful affectation
of indifference as to my intentions. Then began the ceremony of
distribution. The basket raised on a mound of earth became the centre
of a circle. The children advanced in single file, the youngest first.
At the head of the procession was a youngster of less than six years
of age, who had no difficulty in selecting the largest fish, which he
dragged away by the tail stammering with excitement. The mothers
followed, more modest in their desires. In a few moments I was left
alone, a dismal survival of the merry throng.
Fish is the favourite food of the people in these regions and every
river contains an apparently inexhaustible supply of it. The three
current methods of fishing are with line, net, and spear. The nets are
spread across the narrow channel, which is always left in the middle
of the bamboo dams. The bait consists of the stalks of certain weeds
and plants, which are treated to form a soft paste. When a haul has
been particularly successful the fish is smoked and preserved for
several months. For this purpose it is pounded with salt and pimento
and stored in bamboo tubes. In this state it is a favourite condiment.
There is little change of diet, for the food supply is virtually
restricted to the products of fishing and hunting. Domestic animals
are never used for food except upon special occasions such as
religious sacrifices.
Traps are preferred to weapons for keeping down the wild beasts which
swarm in the forests. Both in devising and constructing snares the
natives display a high degree of invention and skill. We found
apparatus of different kinds all over the country, its form being
apparently determined by the seasons of the year and the particular
region. For example, the following method is employed in a
thickly-wooded country where the presence of beasts of prey is only
known by the tracks leading to their watering-places.
The hunters select a young tree, supple but yet sufficiently strong
for their purpose. The top is forced over and secured to the ground by
means of a tough fibre in which a noose is made. The long grass
conceals all these traces of human intervention. Now the monster,
tiger or panther, approaches. It cannot pass the spot without
disturbing the simple mechanism which the least shock would set in
motion. The sapling, suddenly released, flies back, and the
unfortunate captive finds its neck or paw firmly gripped by the noose.
The more it struggles the tighter becomes the knot, and if not
actually strangled, it soon becomes exhausted by its agonized efforts
to escape, and hangs, a miserable object, on this improvised gallows.
Another method is to dig a pit in a track the course of which has been
carefully noted. Animals have fixed habits according to the season of
the year. Shortly before nightfall they emerge from their lairs on an
expedition to secure an evening meal. The pit must be both narrow and
deep, and its dimensions calculated so nicely that the movements of
the prisoner will be hampered in every direction. This object is
further secured by driving stakes into the ground at the bottom so
that the mere act of falling in will inflict the most severe injuries.
The place is then concealed by a layer of branches, a part of the
operation which needs the greatest care if the trap is not to be
detected. A little earth from the excavation lying on the ground at
the side is quite enough to warn some animals of the presence of
danger and the condition of the grass and branches, which quickly
decay, is in itself a suspicious circumstance. The tiger is one of the
most wary and observant of beasts and is seldom captured in this
manner, except when being pursued, when it has not the time to take
its usual precautions. Deer, on the other hand, seem much less
suspicious and frequently fall a victim to this particular wile.
There is another trap which requires equal care in construction, and
closely resembles the eel traps which are common in Europe. It is a
cage, circumscribed by a double row of bamboos as a palisade. The
beast has to penetrate a hedge of bamboos to find the entrance which
leads to an open space where a pig or goat rewards its curiosity. Once
inside, however, its retreat is cut off, for the bamboos spring back
to their natural position, thus closing up the entrance, and the
palisade is quite strong enough to resist attack, however fierce.
It will be recognized that the construction of these snares calls for
a degree of skill and experience to which few Europeans can attain.
Sometimes the pits were so cunningly dug that it was almost impossible
to detect their presence and we were in serious danger of falling in
ourselves. As a rule the natives indicate the proximity of a trap by
some signal such as a broken branch, a spear driven into a tree, or a
stalk twisted in a certain manner; but, of course, the purport of
these signs is known only to the initiated, and at the beginning of
our expedition we had much more to fear from the tiger-traps than from
the chances of an encounter with the beast for which they were
intended.
It must not be imagined that the Moï confine themselves to the
destruction of wild beasts only, or merely those which threaten their
safety. Elephants are slaughtered ruthlessly for the sake of their
ivory. The elephants haunt the damp and sandy regions of this country.
During the dry season from November to March herds consisting of
anything from ten to twenty beasts make their way to the forests both
for shelter from the heat and for the pools which have not yet dried
up. It is generally at watering-time that the creature makes itself
heard with loud trumpetings which are audible at an immense distance
and betray its presence to its human enemy. When the elephant is
undisturbed its progress is sedate and leisurely and it stops every
now and then to pluck a branch either for recreation or to serve as a
fly-swish.
It is this last habit, well known to the native hunter, which betrays
it and leads to its downfall. The first time I took part in an
elephant-hunt I was amazed to see that the native who was guiding me
kept his eyes fixed upwards all the time. I should have thought it was
obvious that we needed no other guide than the enormous footprints
left by the unwieldy beasts, and told him so. I was not long left in
error. Without relaxing his efforts he soon showed me that these
tracks were very unreliable, that they frequently pointed different
ways, cut across each other, and sometimes, in fact, disappeared
altogether. He told me also that the evacuations of the creature are
liable to be misleading unless quite fresh, still viscous, and
unaffected by insects. A trail in a forest must then be sought not on
the ground but in the branches of the trees. It is by the broken
branches, the appearance of the severed ends, and the consistency of
the gum which escapes, that the experienced hunter can deduce the more
or less recent passage of a herd.
I smile now when I think of the succession of surprises I experienced
on that first hunting adventure and the ignorance I must have
exhibited. We came to some swampy ground where my guide stopped short
before some tracks that seemed to him the most fresh we had yet
encountered. He carefully made some fresh tracks at the side with his
feet and then lay at full length on the ground to compare the two sets
of footprints. After a most minute examination of their respective
appearances he calculated that less than half an hour had elapsed
since the animals had passed by and went on his way without comment.
We had started out at sunrise, which is the orthodox and best time. To
set out earlier is to court failure, for it is impossible to be sure
of the traces in the darkness. At first we had directed ourselves by
the pools, and on reaching a third pond were overjoyed to observe some
traces obviously quite fresh. It is usually hopeless to start on a
trail which is several days old, for a track made only the previous
evening may easily take one much farther than is agreeable. Hunters
who say that they have tracked elephants for weeks show more
perseverance than intelligence. As it was, my companion lost the
trail several times, but never took a short cut in the wild hope of
picking it up farther on. He might as well have started hunting for
shadows. Every time this mishap occurred he retraced his steps to the
point of departure and looked again. He was not to be deflected from
his purpose even by the trumpetings of the elephants themselves,
though these were quite audible at times.
"Ong Bioi (Mr. Elephant) would make a liar of me," he explained in his
picturesque jargon.
He was quite right, for in tracking these monsters the only safe rule
is to follow the trail and leave short cuts severely alone. Besides,
this hunting sense, if I may so call it, is only a practical
application of that sense of direction of which I have spoken before,
and which seems almost to be an instinct with some people. It is
something analogous to the sense of danger which is found in certain
specially constituted individuals who can foretell the presence of a
danger by the twitching of the muscles of the back.
Soon, without any apparent reason, my guide signalled to me to relieve
myself, and as I did not comply at once, he repeated his order with a
gesture that left no doubt as to his wishes. He knew from long
experience of big-game hunting how dangerous a nervous contraction,
such as that of an overcharged bladder, can be at a moment when the
accuracy of a shot may make all the difference between life and
death.
He then took off my colonial helmet, which in all its khaki glory was
a somewhat conspicuous object, and replaced it by his own head-gear, a
muddy-coloured turban, quite unnameable, which certainly harmonized
better with our surroundings. I was dressed in a suit of Chinese
linen, slate grey in colour, which seemed to meet with his approval,
while, for himself, he carried his whole wardrobe, consisting of a
thin woollen cloth, lightly wrapped round his waist.
He then picked up a handful of dust and threw it up in the air to
observe the direction of the wind. This is the most indispensable
precaution, for if the elephant is not blessed with keen sight, its
hearing is extremely acute and can detect an unwonted sound at a great
distance. It must be approached, therefore, against the wind.
During the hottest part of the day the elephant either stands with its
trunk wound round the lower branch of a tree, or else lies down,
sometimes with its legs folded under it and sometimes at full length
on its side, just like a horse. In none of these positions does it
need the assistance of a mound of earth or a tree trunk to rise,
though some travellers would have us believe it. In spite of its
immense bulk it can get up unaided at the first hint of danger. M.
Millet, of the Woods and Forests Department of Indo-China, who was
also a member of our party was a specialist in this form of sport, and
gave me the benefit of his fifteen years' experience.
It must be understood that though the preliminary stalking is usually
done by the natives the honour of executing the sentence of death is
reserved for the European. This would naturally seem the easiest part
of the operations, for it would appear impossible to miss so vast an
object at short range. The uninitiated always fall into the error of
underrating the difficulties involved in killing these creatures, but
the error rarely survives the first experience.
To begin with, the hunter who wishes to kill with the first shot must
have a considerable knowledge of the beast's anatomy. Otherwise he
exposes himself to a furious charge or to the mortification of seeing
his bullet reach a non-vital spot and his prey vanish into the forest
unharmed. A knowledge of the structure of the skull is, in fact,
indispensable, for a miss by a hair's-breadth in that region will
change a wound that might have been mortal into an insignificant
scratch. The natives are notoriously ignorant of such matters, and, in
consequence, usually aim at the shoulder and lose half the animals
they hunt.
The vulnerable spot to which all experienced shots direct their
attention is the temple, or rather a spot about one third of an inch
above the ear-hole. If the hunter can find some eminence which puts
him at the level of this vital place his bullet will pass straight
through the brain and out at the other ear. Death occurs
instantaneously. The creature sinks down, its fore legs bent under
him, its back legs stretched out, while its head and body remain
rigid. The same result is obtained by aiming behind the ear. On the
other hand it is almost useless to fire straight into the advancing
creature or hit it at the base of the trunk, especially with rifles of
small bore.
It was this last shot that I attempted on this first elephant hunt
when I was still in the depths of ignorance. The creature uttered a
roar of agony, raised its trunk in the air and charged straight at me,
covering thirty yards in a flash. I thought myself lost, but when
almost on me it suddenly made a half turn on its haunches with as much
agility as a circus pony and dashed off at a tangent smashing every
obstacle in its path. My tracker had also fired with his Laotian
rifle, and both shots were, in fact, mortal, though quite incapable of
arresting its mad career. Only next day we came upon its carcase,
already in a state of putrefaction and half devoured by white ants.
No less important for big-game hunting of this character is the choice
of a rifle.
Fired by an expert a Winchester bullet not more than seven millimetres
in diameter and fourteen grammes in weight is quite sufficient for all
purposes, but a beginner should never start with anything less than
ten millimetres in diameter and nineteen grammes in weight when
hunting the tiger or any larger animal. Such a ball, projected at an
initial velocity of 650 metres to the second, will stop any animal if
it strikes either the shoulder or the breast. The Moï, of course, are
not armed with our modern rifles. In fact, few of them possess a rifle
at all, but the more fortunate among them buy the rustic Laotian
rifles, a kind of blunderbuss which kicks and not infrequently knocks
them down. The projectile used is not a bullet but a poisoned arrow
made from an extremely hard wood.
Among the Moï the sorcerers alone know the secret processes which are
employed in the manufacture of two extremely powerful cardiac poisons,
antiarin and strophanthin, though these are also in use among the
Dyaks of Borneo. No one else is allowed to be present when their
preparation is taking place, but fortunately one of my compatriots in
the mission, M. Odera, who was in the Woods and Forests Departments
and had thirty elephants killed or captured to his credit, was once
honoured by an invitation to be present at the ceremony.
A moonlight night is chosen. The novice first invokes the genii of the
forest and then cuts a portion of the creeper _strophantus giganteus_,
strips off the bark, grinds it up in a mortar and boils it over a fire
until it attains the consistency of gum. This operation takes place at
a great distance from the village, for the fumes are supposed to be
noxious. To ascertain whether the required strength has been attained
they cut off part of a lizard's tail and put a drop of the concoction
on the severed end. Death ought to be immediate.
The second poison is obtained from the _antiaris toxicaria_ without
any special preparation. An incision is made in the bark of the tree.
In some regions the arrows are poisoned by the simple expedient of
sticking them into the trunk of the poison-bearing tree and leaving
them in this novel pincushion until required.
It is a curious fact that game killed by poisoned arrows is perfectly
wholesome if the wound is carefully washed at once. The young plants
also of the _antiaris toxicaria_ supply an absorbent poison. Their sap
is not as powerful as that of the full-grown trees, but on the other
hand has neither its bitterness nor repulsive smell.
Both the _strophantus giganteus_ and the _antiaris_ are found all over
the Indo-Chinese and Malay peninsulas. The effect of _antiaris_ is the
same whether introduced into the digestive organs or applied to the
cellular tissue, but in the former case the dose must be considerably
stronger to produce the same result. It is pleasant to record that
there is little data on which to base observations on the effect of
the Moï poisons on human beings. Our own experience furnished one or
two illustrations, however. While we were in Nhe-An, a province of
Annam, one of our captains was wounded by two arrows and, though they
were taken out at once, he died twenty-two days later in fearful
agony. Another officer was struck by a poisoned missile and after a
few minutes went mad and committed suicide. The danger of attack by
the rebellious Moï was always present to our minds during the
expedition. Two officers, MM. Canivey and Barbu, were wounded by
several arrows. As there was no post where medical assistance could be
obtained within several days' march and no doctor among us, I
undertook a rational cure. All the symptoms pointed to poison. The
nervous tremours, the alternating phases of excitement and lethargy,
the dilation of the pupil, the feeble voice and the subnormal
temperature left no doubt as to the nature of the malady. For a long
time it seemed that recovery was impossible, for the arrow heads had
not been immediately extracted; but events took a happier turn and in
four weeks they were both well again. I can only conclude that the
poison cannot have been fresh and consequently had lost much of its
strength. The natives treat a patient for poison by first making the
wound bleed, then washing it in water impregnated with sea salt and
calcined alum, and finally inducing a heavy perspiration by making him
drink an infusion of mulberry leaves.
Most of the Moï arm themselves with the cross-bow, which is a deadly
weapon at a range of not more than forty yards. At half that distance
the arrow will easily penetrate through two inches of the hardest
wood. The arrow head is made of iron or wood, around which is wound a
thread impregnated with the poisonous substance. It is fashioned with
a notch at the base to make its extraction from a wound difficult, if
not impossible.
The manipulation of the cross-bow requires no little strength. The
bowman props the cross against his body and holds the bow firm on the
ground with his foot. The strain of fixing the arrow is so great that
it has been known to burst the bladder.
When the Moï goes to war with his neighbours he generally swathes his
body in a multitude of thick wrappings to give him protection against
such weapons as knives and daggers. His shield is of stout cane or
buffalo hide and usually ornamented with the insignia of his tribe.
Finally his panoply is completed by a spear with a handle of mahogany
or sometimes by a two-handed sword. He is also ingenious at
constructing subsidiary defences. On the outbreak of hostilities the
neighbourhood of a village is thickly studded with small bamboo
javelins, which are extremely difficult to distinguish from the grass
and brushwood. Some of our party received grievous wounds from these
concealed weapons.
The forests we encountered during our topographical survey are the
home of a certain kind of buffalo of immense size. This species, which
is very rare and not found elsewhere, is no other than the Aurochs,
which are called "Con-minh" by the Annamites and "Co-bay" by the Moï.
These animals are bay in colour and have a short and scanty coat, with
the longest hairs under the belly and at the throat. They have white
spots on all four feet, and resemble the wild buffalo in not being
dewlapped. They are formidable foes and never wait to be attacked,
but charge with lowered head at a prodigious speed. The tiger seems to
have no terrors for them and many are the stories of their triumphs
over the king of the forest himself.
Now, as a rule, a tiger is not dangerous unless it takes the
initiative itself, which it seldom fails to do in these regions, where
its supremacy has hardly yet been seriously challenged. Hence the
saying which experience has abundantly justified: "In Indo-China the
tiger is the hunter and man the hunted."
Of course, it is very unusual to meet this ferocious creature by
daylight, even in regions where its ravages are the most frequent.
Every traveller will pass by its lair in the bamboo groves, but it is
quite exceptional to see the beast itself, except at nightfall, when
it comes forth to seek its prey. Once a tiger has tasted human flesh
it prefers it to all other food. Accordingly, the natives live in a
state of chronic fear of the man-eater and will willingly abandon
their villages rather than make the least effort to rid themselves of
the pest. As I shall show later, they endow their enemy with human
qualities and frequently refuse to destroy it when at their mercy for
fear of arousing the vengeance of the whole species.
One of our party once witnessed the following scene. A tiger had
fallen into a pit which had been laid for some deer. It had not been
wounded, but the space was so cramped that it was quite unable to
move. The natives were terrified lest it should die, in which case its
spirit would never cease to molest them; so they decided to set it
free. They made a cage without a floor, lowered it into the pit and
then raised it up again by means of ropes passed under the creature.
Perched on the neighbouring trees they pulled away the prison and let
the captive go, offering it their humble apologies for having already
detained it so long! Our representative had been compelled to promise
his acquiescence, and, lest he should repent and show fight, his rifle
was carefully left behind in the village.
I myself saw tigers on several occasions and often under circumstances
when I wished them at the bottom of the deepest pit that human
ingenuity could devise. One such occasion has left so vivid an
impression on my mind by reason of its tragic outcome that I shall
relate it here.
It was during the hot season when Sergeant Valutioni and I were in
charge of a reconnoitring party sent forward to report on a region
which he assured me was infested with tigers. In fact on the day in
question he had gone so far as to bet me that we would meet a
man-eater before nightfall. Now during the whole of my ten months'
residence in Annam I had frequently passed through alleged
tiger-stricken provinces but had never seen a single tiger, though at
every station I was literally shot through and through with stories of
their wholesale depredations. According to my colleagues every step
was accompanied by the probability of immediate destruction. I became
more and more sceptical and finally persuaded myself that the fearsome
tales were spread by the old colonists with a view to discouraging
newcomers. Accordingly I dismissed Valutioni's sinister predictions
with a knowing smile.
Our way led through a magnificent forest. The sun grew hotter with
every step, the ground harder as the carpet of moss and ferns dried up
and withered. The trees became more stunted and their branches, almost
denuded of leaves, took on strange fantastic shapes. Such foliage as
there was seemed burnt up and ready to fall at the first breath of
wind. Now and then a huge ant-heap broke the level sky-line and
blended bewitchingly with the reddening trunks. A deathlike silence
reigned, unchallenged even by a bird, over this realm of ill-omen.
Sao, the nephew of the chief of our escort, was walking a few yards
ahead of me carrying my rifle. He was an intelligent boy about twelve
years of age, with a peculiarly frank and pleasant expression, and I
had had considerable hesitation in bringing him with us on an
expedition which was bound to be long and trying, if not actually
dangerous. His urgent request to join the party, however, overcame my
reluctance, and I was also tempted by the knowledge that the young Moï
is more tough and reliable than his elders.
He busied himself with cutting down the low projecting branches which
impeded my progress and enlivened our march by humming a plaintive
native melody in honour of the great Spirit who keeps watch and ward
over the tigers. About midday we found a thick bamboo grove which
offered welcome shelter against the torrid heat. Sao now took on the
duties of scullion and rendered invaluable aid to my boy in preparing
our bushman's lunch.
Valutioni lost no time in attacking a consommé of parrakeet, while a
salmi of rat met with universal approval, and this sumptuous feast was
crowned with a cup of mocha in St. Galmier water, which accompanies
every expedition, as the forest pools are both few and foul.
Meanwhile our Moï escort were preparing and taking their more frugal
meal. They made a fire and cooked a kind of pancake, of which rice is
the chief constituent. The thick paste swells up rapidly looking like
a piece of bread soaked in water. Sao made a hearty meal, showing a
healthy contempt of European delicacies.
When we resumed our journey the sun was more cruel than ever. Not a
breath of wind stirred the parched air, which almost burnt our
nostrils. The bearers were hindered in their march by a thick carpet
of dried branches and the necessity of stopping at frequent intervals
to remove the thorns from their feet.
These delays were particularly aggravating, as we had resolved to make
our night quarters at Song-Phan, where the river promised us a welcome
bathe and an ideal spot for a camp. Also the horses, tormented by the
flies, became so restive as to be almost unmanageable.
At length the sound of the torrent broke the silence, and presently a
sheet of water gleaming like burnished steel appeared between two
gaunt bluffs. In a few minutes our men had felled two large trunks to
serve as a bridge from one bank to the other, and in a few more the
fires were burning brightly. Valutioni insisted on my taking some
precautions against the attacks of wild beasts and I issued an order
that no one should go to find water without some escort.
One who has never experienced the pangs of a tropical thirst cannot
imagine the delirious delight of a "bushman" when a chance is
presented of a drink of pure water. How much greater is his ecstasy
when the opportunity of a bathe is added! We threw prudence to the
winds and took to the water like ducks in spite of Valutioni's solemn
warning that the hour was late and none other than that selected by
the tiger for its evening work.
Soon night came down, unheralded by twilight, and shrouded the earth
in a thick mantle of darkness. We felt somewhat awed and dressed
ourselves in silence. The way back to the camp took us by a narrow
path cut in an impenetrable bamboo thicket. A party of water-carriers
passed us, Sao bringing up the rear swinging his heavy gourd and
singing the same melancholy chant. He looked so happy that I could
not resist giving him a friendly pat on the cheek as he went by.
I had not advanced five yards when a heart-rending scream made me turn
round sharply just in time to see the boy in the grip of a huge tiger
and still struggling feebly. I snatched my rifle, raised it and took
aim. At what? With one bound the monster had cleared the stream,
bearing its prey in its fearful jaws, and vanished into the jungle.
A hoarse roar of horror and dismay broke the silence. All the Moï of
our escort were screaming frantically as if suddenly stricken with
madness.
"The Lord Tiger," they yelled, waving their long bamboo poles in the
air.
My companion and I gazed at each other dumbfounded. What was to be
done? The night was now black, the jungle impenetrable. Pursuit under
such circumstances would be the height of folly. Realizing that we
must wait for daylight and raging at our impotence, we returned to the
camp fires thinking of the ghastly tragedy that was being enacted
behind that barricade of brambles, perhaps only a few yards away.
I called up the unhappy uncle to offer what consolation I could. He
was almost dumb with weeping, but managed to inform me amid his tears
that the same evil fate had befallen both the father and mother of the
poor boy.
"My brother should know," he added gravely, "that the spirits of my
relations who never received burial nor the rites that were their due
have long demanded another companion."
At that time I was profoundly ignorant of beliefs and superstitions
which came to my notice later, and I attributed his words to the
raving of a madman. Valutioni soon enlightened me, however, and showed
me that not only the Moï but most of the Annamites also entertain the
most curious beliefs on this subject.
They believe that the spirit of a tiger's victim is compelled to ride
on the back of his murderer and guide it. Accordingly, when a trap is
being laid the natives are careful to sprinkle a quantity of roasted
maize around the place. When the monster approaches the spirit smells
the grain, is warned of the impending danger, and leaps off in time to
avoid falling with the tiger into the snare.
The story may raise an incredulous smile but is not so fanciful as it
sounds. The attacks of the tiger on the Moï are so frequent, ruthless,
and calculated that a savage naturally ascribes them to the direct
instigation and assistance of some supernatural power. All Europeans
will testify to the ferocious malevolence of the creatures, and many a
traveller has paid for his ignorance or carelessness with his life. It
was probably pure chance that Sao's evil fate did not befall my
companion or myself.
It was evident that while we were enjoying our reckless bathe the
tiger must have been watching us from the thicket, awaiting a
favourable moment to spring. With its usual cunning it selected the
weakest for its prey, and neither rifles nor knives would have barred
its path. The slightest wound from its paw filled with putrefying
matter is calculated to bring tetanus and an agonizing death.
Such was the course of our melancholy reflections when our attention
was aroused to the presence of a new danger by the voices of a number
of coolies who were arguing in undertones. We pretended to be asleep
but listened carefully. They were talking of flight.
Someone was seeming reluctant, suggesting that the country was
strange, the tigers at large. The whites had angered the spirits and
brought all this evil upon them. It would be better to wait till the
morning and steal away at daybreak.
We realized that vigorous measures were called for to avert a crisis.
The nearest station was more than a hundred miles away and the country
was absolutely without resources. If our escort fled we should have to
give up the expedition. Fortunately the chief remained faithful to us.
I ordered him to collect all the identification cards which every
coolie carries with him in accordance with the regulations. Each card
recites the length of the finger-joints of its owner and is stamped
with each of his finger-prints.
Deprived of their cards, our men became as meek as sheep. The prospect
before them was not inviting. They would have to pay the native
equivalent of three piastres and produce satisfactory evidence of
identity in the capital of the province before a duplicate would be
supplied, and happily a coolie with three piastres is a rare
phenomenon.
This danger disposed of, we attempted to sleep, but all in vain. The
dog trembled and whined as if scenting evil. The tiger must have been
watching us!
At dawn we beat out the thickets and at length came upon the tiger's
lair where, among a mass of unrecognizable remains, we distinguished
the corpse of the last victim. Not a fragment of flesh was to be seen
on the skull which looked like an ivory ball. The animal's rough
tongue had literally scraped it clean. A few paces away was a path,
access to which was barred by the fallen trunk of an immense banian
struck by lightning. It was plain that persons using this path had
been unable to pass this obstacle and had been compelled to make a
detour through the thicket. Hidden behind its bamboo barrier the tiger
had watched them threading their way, and fallen upon them at the
moment they presented their backs to it. We saw several fragments of
human clothing and many bones to prove, if proof were needed, that we
were on the site of a veritable man-trap.
We proceeded to give the poor boy as decent a burial as time and the
circumstances permitted. His corpse was reverently laid in a shroud of
latania leaves and buried in a grave at the very spot on which he had
met his death. His uncle asked me for a piece of drawing paper, on
which he traced the rude figure of a tiger with a pencil. He then drew
three figures on the tiger's back. He explained to me that as the
boy's parents were both very big, only a small place remained on the
beast's back, quite near the tail.
"That is the reason," he added, "that my brother, the White Mandarin,
has not been devoured. The tiger loves the flesh of a white man far
more than that of my countrymen, and if there had been room he would
doubtless have taken my brother for his victim."
I could say nothing to turn him from this conviction, and indeed I
knew that my imprudence in bathing at so dangerous a time might very
well have proved fatal.
The old man finished his drawing and then solemnly burnt it,
scattering the fine ashes over the tomb to the accompaniment of many
prayers. When the soil had all been returned the grave-diggers strode
several times round the grave crying to the High and Mighty One to
seek no more victims.
The moral effect of this tragedy was so great on the Moï of our escort
that it seemed to me wiser to suspend the expedition with a view to
avenging the boy's death and restoring confidence. Unfortunately the
Moï were even more terrified at this suggestion and spared no efforts
to dissuade me. They feared the vengeance of the tiger, but I was not
to be turned from my purpose.
I took up my station in a tree and secured a fine young roebuck as
bait. For fourteen nights I waited for the tiger to come within range,
but it never came. It ravaged the neighbourhood frequently, startling
the forest with its roars, but we never had a glimpse of it. At the
end of the period the escort became restive and I acceded to the
general desire to strike our camp and retreat before the enemy.
A few months later Lieutenant Gautier, another member of the mission,
was devoured on the same spot.