Exciting jungle scene.--The camp.--All quiet.--Advent of the cowherds.
--A tiger close by.--Proceed to the spot.--Encounter between tigress
and buffaloes.--Strange behaviour of the elephant.--Discovery and
capture of four cubs.--Joyful return to camp.--Death of the tigress.
--Night encounter with a leopard.--The haunts of the tiger and our
shooting grounds.
One of the most exciting and deeply interesting scenes I ever
witnessed in the jungles, was on the occasion I have referred to in a
former chapter, when speaking of the number of young given by the
tigress at a birth. It was in the month of March, at the village of
Ryseree, in Bhaugulpore. I had been encamped in the midst of
twenty-four beautiful tanks, the history and construction of which
were lost in the mists of tradition. The villagers had a story that
these tanks were the work of a mighty giant, Bheema, with whose aid
and that of his brethren they had been excavated in a single night.
At all events, they were now covered with a wild tangle of water
lilies and aquatic plants; well stocked with magnificent fish, and an
occasional scaly monster of a saurian. They were the haunt of vast
quantities of widgeon, teal, whistlers, mallard, ducks, snipe, curlew,
blue fowl, and the usual varied _habitués_ of an exceptionally good
Indian lake. In the vicinity hares were numerous, and in the thick
jungle bordering the tanks in places, and consisting mostly of nurkool
and wild rose, hog-deer and wild pig were abundant. The dried-up bed
of an old arm of the Koosee was quite close to my camp, and abounded
in sandpiper, and golden, grey, goggle-eyed, and stilted plover,
besides other game.
It was indeed a favourite camping spot, and the village was inhabited
by a hardy, independent set of Gwallas, Koormees, and agriculturists,
with whom I was a prime favourite.
I was sitting in my tent, going over some village accounts with the
village putwarrie, and my gomasta. A possé of villagers were grouped
under the grateful shade of a gnarled old mango tree, whose contorted
limbs bore evidence to the violence of many a _tufan_, or tempest,
which it had weathered. The usual confused clamour of tongues was
rising from this group, and the sub; ect of debate was the eternal
'pice.' Behind the bank, and in rear of the tent, the cook and his
mate were disembowelling a hapless _moorghee_, a fowl, whose
decapitation had just been effected with a huge jagged old cavalry
sword, of which my cook was not a little proud; and on the strength of
which he adopted fierce military airs, and gave an extra turn to his
well-oiled moustache when he went abroad for a holiday.
Farther to the rear a line of horses were picketed, including my
man-eating demon the white Cabool stallion, my gentle country-bred
mare Motee--the pearl--and my handsome little pony mare, formerly my
hockey or polo steed, a present from a gallant sportsman and rare good
fellow, as good a judge of a horse, or a criminal, as ever sat on a
bench.
Behind the horses, each manacled by weighty chains, with his ponderous
trunk and ragged-looking tail swaying too and fro with a never-ceasing
motion, stood a line of ten elephants. Their huge leathery ears
flapped lazily, and ever and anon one or other would seize a mighty
branch, and belabour his corrugated sides to free himself of the
detested and troublesome flies. The elephants were placidly munching
their _chana_ (bait, or food), and occasionally giving each other a
dry bath in the shape of a shower of sand. There was a monotonous
clank of chains, and an occasional deep abdominal rumble like distant
thunder. All over the camp there was a confused subdued medley of
sound. A hum from the argumentative villagers, a lazy flop in the tank
as a raho rose to the surface, an occasional outburst from the ducks,
an angry clamour from the water-hens and blue-fowl. My dogs were lying
round me blinking and winking, and making an occasional futile snap at
an imaginary fly or flea. It was a drowsy and peaceful scene. I was
nearly dropping off to sleep, from the heat and the monotonous drone
of the putwarrie, who was intoning nasally some formidable document
about fishery rights and privileges.
Suddenly there was a hush. Every sound seemed to stop simultaneously
as if by pre-arranged concert. Then three men were seen rushing madly
along the elevated ridge surrounding one of the tanks. I recognised
one of my peons, and with him two cowherds. Their head-dresses were
all disarranged, and their parted lips, heaving chests, and eyes
blazing with excitement, shewed that they were brimful of some unusual
message.
Now arose such a bustle in the camp as no description could adequately
portray. The elephants trumpeted and piped; the _syces_, or grooms,
came rushing up with eager queries; the villagers bustled about like
so many ants aroused by the approach of a hostile foe; my pack of
terriers yelped out in chorus; the pony neighed; the Cabool stallion
plunged about; my servants came rushing from the shelter of the tent
verandah with disordered dress; the ducks rose in a quacking crowd,
and circled round and round the tent; and the cry arose of 'Bagh!
Bagh! Khodamund! Arree Bap re Bap! Ram Ram, Seeta Ram!'
Breathless with running, the men now tumbled up, hurriedly salaamed,
arid then each with gasps and choking stops, and pell-mell volubility,
and amid a running fire of cries, queries, and interjections from the
mob, began to unfold their tale. There was an infuriated tigress at
the other side of the nullah, or dry watercourse, she had attacked a
herd of buffaloes, and it was believed that she had cubs.
Already Debnarain Singh was getting his own pad elephant caparisoned,
and my bearer was diving under my camp bed for my gun and cartridges.
Knowing the little elephant to be a fast walker, and fairly staunch, I
got on her back, and accompanied by the gomasta and mahout we set out,
followed by the peon and herdsmen to shew us the way.
I expected two friends, officers from Calcutta, that very day, and
wished not to kill the tigress but to keep her for our combined
shooting next day. We had not proceeded far when, on the other side of
the nullah, we saw dense clouds of dust rising, and heard a confused,
rushing, trampling sound, mingled with the clashing of horns, and the
snorting of a herd of angry buffaloes.
It was the wildest sight I have ever seen in connection with animal
life. The buffaloes were drawn together in the form of a crescent;
their eyes glared fiercely, and as they advanced in a series of short
runs, stamping with their hoofs, and angrily lashing their tails,
their horns would come together with a clanging, clattering crash, and
they would paw the sand, snort and toss their heads, and behave in the
most extraordinary manner.
The cause of all this commotion was not far to seek. Directly in
front, retreating slowly, with stealthy, prowling, crawling steps, and
an occasional short, quick leap or bound to one side or the other, was
a magnificent tigress, looking the very personification of baffled
fury. Ever and anon she crouched down to the earth, tore up the sand
with her claws, lashed her tail from side to side, and with lips
retracted, long moustaches quivering with wrath, and hateful eyes
scintillating with rage and fury, she seemed to meditate an attack on
the angry buffaloes. The serried array of clashing horns, and the
ponderous bulk of the herd, seemed however to daunt the snarling
vixen; at their next rush she would bound back a few paces, crouch
down, growl, and be forced to move back again, by the short,
blundering rush of the crowd.
All the calves and old cows were in the rear of the herd, and it was
not a little comical to witness their ungainly attitudes. They would
stretch their clumsy necks, and shake their heads, as if they did not
rightly understand what was going on. Finding that if they stopped too
long to indulge their curiosity, there was a danger of their getting
separated from the fighting members of the herd, they would make a
stupid, headlong, lumbering lurch forward, and jostle each other, in
their blundering panic.
It was a grand sight. The tigress was the embodiment of lithe and
savage beauty, but her features expressed the wildest baffled rage. I
could have shot the striped vixen over and over again, but I wished to
keep her for my friends, and I was thrilled with the excitement of
such a novel scene.
Suddenly our elephant trumpeted, and shied quickly to one side, from
something lying on the ground. Curling up its trunk it began backing
and piping at a prodigious rate.
'Hullo! what's the matter now?' said I to Debnarain.
'God only knows,' said he.
'A young tiger!' 'Bagh ka butcha!' screams our mahout, and regardless
of the elephant or of our cries to stop, he scuttled down the pad rope
like a monkey down a backstay, and clutching a young dead tiger cub,
threw it up to Debnarain; it was about the size of a small poodle, and
had evidently been trampled by the pursuing herd of buffaloes.
'There may be others,' said the gomasta; and peering into every bush,
we went slowly on.
The elephant now shewed decided symptoms of dislike and a reluctance
to approach a particular dense clump of grass.
A sounding whack on the head, however, made her quicken her steps, and
thrusting the long stalks aside, she discovered for us three blinking
little cubs, brothers of the defunct, and doubtless part of the same
litter. Their eyes were scarcely open, and they lay huddled together
like three enormous striped kittens, and spat at us and bristled their
little moustaches much as an angry cat would do. All the four were
males.
It was not long ere I had them carefully wrapped in the mahout's
blanket. Overjoyed at our good fortune, we left the excited buffaloes
still executing their singular war-dance, and the angry tigress,
robbed of her whelps, consuming her soul in baffled fury.
We heard her roaring through the night, close to camp, and on my
friends' arrival, we beat her up next morning, and she fell pierced by
three bullets, after a fierce and determined charge. We came upon her
across the nullah, and her mind was evidently made up to fight. Nearly
all the villagers had turned out with the line of elephants. Before we
had time to order them away, she came down upon the line, roaring
furiously, and bounding over the long grass,--a most magnificent
sight.
My first bullet took her full in the chest, and before she could make
good her charge, a ball each from Pat and Captain G. settled her
career. She was beautifully striped, and rather large for a tigress,
measuring nine feet three inches.
It was now a question with me, how to rear the three interesting
orphans; we thought a slut from some of the villages would prove the
best wet nurse, and tried accordingly to get one, but could not. In
the meantime an unhappy goat was pounced on and the three young-tigers
took to her teats as if 'to the manner born.' The poor Nanny screamed
tremendously at first sight of them, but she soon got accustomed to
them, and when they grew a little bigger, she would often playfully
butt at them with her horns.
The little brutes throve wonderfully, and soon developed such an
appetite that I had to get no less than six goats to satisfy their
constant thirst. I kept the cubs for over two months, and I shall not
soon forget the excitement I caused, when my boat stopped at
Sahribgunge, and my goats, tiger cubs, and attendants, formed a
procession from the ghat or landing-place, to the railway station.
Soldiers, guards, engineers, travellers, and crowds of natives
surrounded me, and at every station the guard's van, with my novel
menagerie, was the centre of attraction. I sold the cubs to Jamrach's
agent in Calcutta for a very satisfactory price. Two of them were very
powerful, finely marked, handsome animals; the third had always been
sickly, had frequent convulsions, and died a few days after I sold it.
I was afterwards told that the milk diet was a mistake, and that I
should have fed them on raw meat. However, I was very well satisfied
on the whole with the result of my adventure.
I had another in the same part of the country, which at the time was a
pretty good test of the state of my nerves.
I was camped out at the village of Purindaha, on the edge of a gloomy
sal forest, which was reported to contain numerous leopards. The
villagers were a mixed lot of low-caste Hindoos, and Nepaulese
settlers. They had been fighting with the factory, and would not pay
up their rents, and I was trying, with every probability of success,
to make an amicable arrangement with them. At all events, I had so far
won them round, that they were willing to talk to me. They came to the
tent and listened quietly, and except on the subject of rent, we got
on in the most friendly manner.
It was the middle of April. The heat was intense. The whole atmosphere
had that coppery look which denotes extreme heat, and the air was
loaded with fine yellow dust, which the daily west wind bore on its
fever laden wings, to disturb the lungs and tempers of all good
Christians. The _kanats_, or canvas walls of the tent, had all been
taken down for coolness, and my camp bed lay in one corner, open all
round to the outside air, but only sheltered from the dew. It had been
a busy day. I had been going over accounts, and talking to the
villagers till I was really hoarse. After a light dinner I lay down on
my bed, but it was too close and hot to sleep. By and bye the various
sounds died out. The tom-toming ceased in the village. My servants
suspended their low muttered gossip round the cook's fire, wrapped
themselves in their white cloths, and dropped into slumber. 'Toby,'
'Nettle,' 'Whisky,' 'Pincher,' and my other terriers, resembled so
many curled-up hairy balls, and were in the land of dreams.
Occasionally an owl would give a melancholy hoot from the forest, or a
screech owl would raise a momentary and damnable din. At intervals,
the tinkle of a cow-bell sounded faintly in the distance. I tossed
restlessly, thinking of various things, till I must have dropped off
into an uneasy fitful sleep. I know not how long I had been dozing,
but of a sudden I felt myself wide awake, though with my eyes yet
firmly closed.
I was conscious of some terrible unknown impending danger. I had
experienced the same feeling before on waking from a nightmare, but I
knew that the danger now was real. I felt a shrinking horror, a
terrible and nameless fear, and for the life of me I could not move
hand or foot. I was lying on my side, and could distinctly hear the
thumping of my heart. A cold sweat broke out behind my ears and over
my neck and chest. I could analyse my every feeling, and I knew there
was some PRESENCE in the tent, and that I was in instant and imminent
peril. Suddenly in the distance a pariah dog gave a prolonged
melancholy howl. As if this had broken the spell which had hitherto
bound me, I opened my eyes, and within ten inches of my face, there
was a handsome leopardess gazing steadily at me. Our eyes met, and how
long we confronted each other I know not. It must have been some
minutes. Her eyes contracted and expanded, the pupil elongated and
then opened out into a round lustrous globe. I could see the lithe
tail oscillating at its extreme tip, with a gentle waving motion, like
that of a cat when hunting birds in the garden. I seemed to possess no
will. I believe I was under a species of fascination, but we continued
our steady stare at each other.
Just then, there was a movement by some of the horses. The leopard
slowly turned her head, and I grasped the revolver which lay under my
pillow. The beautiful spotted monster turned her head for an instant,
and shewed her teeth, and then with one bound went through the open
side of the tent. I fired two shots, which were answered with a roar.
The din that followed would have frightened the devil. It was a
beautiful clear night, with a moon at the full, and everything shewed
as plainly as at noonday. The servants uttered exclamations of terror.
The terriers went into an agony of yelps and barks. The horses
snorted, and tried to get loose, and my chowkeydar, who had been
asleep on his watch, thinking a band of dacoits were on us, began
laying round him with his staff, shouting, _Chor, Chor! lagga, lagga,
lagga!_ that is, 'thief, thief! lay on, lay on, lay on!'
The leopard was hit, and evidently in a terrible temper. She halted
not thirty paces from the tent, beside a jhamun tree, and seemed
undecided whether to go on or return and wreak her vengeance on me.
That moment decided her fate. I snatched down my Express rifle, which
was hanging in two loops above my bed, and shot her right through the
heart.
I never understood how she could have made her way past dogs,
servants, horses, and watchman, right into the tent, without raising
some alarm. It must have been more from curiosity than any hostile
design. I know that my nerves were very rudely shaken, but I became
the hero of the Purindaha villagers. I believe that my night adventure
with the leopardess did more to bring them round to a settlement than
all my eloquence and figures.
The river Koosee, on the banks of which, and in the long grass plains
adjacent, most of the incidents I have recorded took place, takes its
rise at the base of Mount Everest, and, after draining nearly the
whole of Eastern. Nepaul, emerges by a deep gorge from the hills at
the north-west corner of Purneah. The stream runs with extreme
velocity. It is known as a snow stream. The water is always cold, and
generally of a milky colour, containing much fine white sand. No
sooner does it leave its rocky bed than it tears through the flat
country by numerous channels. It is subject to very sudden rises. A
premonitory warning of these is generally given. The water becomes of
a turbid, almost blood-like colour. Sometimes I have seen the river
rise over thirty feet in twenty-four hours. The melting of the snow
often makes a raging torrent, level from bank to bank, where only a
few hours before a horse could have forded the stream without wetting
the girths of the saddle.
In 1876 the largest channel was a swift broad stream called the Dhaus.
The river is very capricious, seldom flowing for any length of time in
one channel. This is owing in great measure to the amount of silt it
carries with it from the hills, in its impetuous progress to the
plains.
In these dry watercourses, among the sand ridges, beside the humid
marshy hollows, and among the thick strips of grass jungle, tigers are
always to be found. They are much less numerous now however than
formerly. As a rule, there is no shelter in these water-worn,
flood-ravaged tracts and sultry jungles. Occasionally a few straggling
plantain trees, a clump of sickly-looking bamboos, a cluster of tall
shadowless palms, marks the site of a deserted village. All else is
waving grass, withered and dry. The villages, inhabited mostly by a
few cowherds, boatmen, and rice-farmers are scattered at wide
intervals. In the shooting season, and when the hot winds are blowing,
the only shadow on the plain is that cast by the dense volumes of
lurid smoke, rising in blinding clouds from the jungle fires.
According to the season, animal life fluctuates strangely. During the
rains, when the river is in full flood, and much of the country
submerged, most of the animals migrate to the North, buffaloes and
wild pig alone keeping possession, of the higher ridges in the
neighbourhood of their usual haunts.
The contrasts presented on these plains at different seasons of the
year are most remarkable. In March and April they are parched up,
brown, and dead; great black patches showing the track of a destroying
fire, the fine brown ash from the burnt grass penetrating the eyes and
nostrils, and sweeping along in eddying and blinding clouds. They then
look the very picture of an untenable waste, a sea of desolation,
whose limits blend in the extreme distance with the shimmering coppery
horizon. In the rainy season these arid-looking wastes are covered
with tall-plumed, reed-like, waving grass, varying from two to ten
feet in height, stretching in an unbroken sweep as far as the eye can
reach, except where an abrupt line shews that the swift river has its
treacherous course. After the rains, progress through the jungle is
dangerous. Quicksands and beds of tenacious mud impede one at every
step. The rich vegetation springs up green and vigorous, with a
rapidity only to be seen in the Tropics. But what a glorious hunting
ground! What a preserve for Nimrod! Deer forest, or heathered moor,
can never compete with the old Koosee Derahs for abundance of game and
thrilling excitement in sport. My genial, happy, loyal comrades
too--while memory lasts the recollection of your joyous, frank,
warm-hearted comradeship shall never fade.