Sport and Work on the Nepaul Frontier - James Inglis
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This morning we were unlucky with our deer. I shot three, and Captain
S. shot at and wounded three, not one of which however did we bag.
This part of the country is exclusively inhabited by Parbutteas, the
native name for Nepaulese settled in British territory. Over the
frontier line, the villages are called Pahareeas, signifying
mountaineers or hillmen, from Pahar, a mountain. We beat up to a
Parbuttea village, with its conical roofed huts; men and women were
engaged in plaiting long coils of rice straw into cable looking ropes.
A few split bamboos are fastened into the ground, in a circle, and
these ropes are then coiled round, in and out, between the stakes;
this makes a huge circular vat-shaped repository, open at both ends;
it is then lifted up and put on a platform coated with mud, and
protected from rats and vermin by the pillars being placed on smooth,
inverted earthen pots. The coils of straw are now plastered outside
and in with a mixture of mud, chaff, and cowdung, and allowed to dry;
when dried the hut is filled with grain, and securely roofed and
thatched. This forms the invariable village granary, and looks at a
distance not unlike a stack or rick of corn, round a farm at home. By
the abundance of these granaries in a village, one can tell at a
glance whether the season has been a good one, and whether the frugal
inhabitants of the clustering little hamlet are in pretty comfortable
circumstances. If they are under the sway of a grasping and
unscrupulous landlord, they not unfrequently bury their grain in
clay-lined chambers in the earth, and have always enough for current
wants, stored up in the sun-baked clay repositories mentioned in a
former chapter.
Beyond the village we entered some thick Patair jungle. Its greenness
was refreshing after the burnt up and withered grass jungle. We were
now in a hollow bordering the stream, and somewhat protected from the
scorching wind, and the stinging clouds of fine sand and red dust. The
brook looked so cool and refreshing, and the water so clear and
pellucid, that I was about to dismount to take a drink and lave my
heated head and face, when a low whistle to my right made me look in
that direction, and I saw the Captain waving his hand excitedly, and
pointing ahead. He was higher up the bank than I was, and in very
dense Patair; a ridge ran between his front of the line and mine, so
that I could only see his howdah, and the bulk of the elephant's body
was concealed from me by the grass on this ridge.
I closed up diagonally across the ridge; S. still waving to me to
hurry up; as I topped it, I spied a large tiger slouching along in the
hollow immediately below me. He saw me at the same instant, and
bounded on in front of S. His Express was at his shoulder on the
instant; he fired, and a tremendous spurt of blood shewed a hit, a
hit, a palpable hit. The tiger was nowhere visible, and not a cry or a
motion could we hear or see, to give us any clue to the whereabouts of
the wounded animal. We followed up however, quickly but cautiously,
expecting every instant a furious charge.
We must have gone at least a hundred yards, when right in front of me
I descried the tiger, crouching down, its head resting on its fore
paws, and to all appearance settling for a spring. It was about twenty
yards from me, and taking a rather hasty aim, I quickly fired both
barrels straight at the head. I could only see the head and paws, but
these I saw quite distinctly. My elephant was very unsteady, and both
my bullets went within an inch of the tiger's head, but fortunately
missed completely. I say fortunately, for finding the brute still
remaining quite motionless, we cautiously approached, and found it was
stone dead. The perfect naturalness of the position, however, might
well have deceived a more experienced sportsman. The beast was lying
crouched on all fours, as if in the very act of preparing to spring.
The one bullet had killed it; the wound was in the lungs, and the
internal bleeding had suffocated it, but here was a wonderful instance
of the tiger's tenacity of life, even when sorely wounded, for it had
travelled over a hundred and thirty yards after S. had shot it.
It was lucky I missed, for my bullets would have spoiled the skull.
She was a very handsome, finely marked tigress, a large specimen, for
on applying the tape we found she measured exactly nine feet. Before
descending to measure her, we were joined by the old Major Capt[=a]n,
whose elephants we had for some time descried in the distance. His
congratulations were profuse, and no doubt sincere, and after padding
the tigress, we hied to the welcome shelter of one of the village
houses, where we discussed a hearty and substantial tiffin.
During tiffin, we were surrounded by a bevy of really fair and buxom
lasses. They wore petticoats of striped blue cloth, and had their arms
and shoulders bare, and their ears loaded with silver ornaments. They
were merry, laughing, comely damsels, with none of the exaggerated
shyness, and affected prudery of the women of the plains. We were
offered plantains, milk, and chupatties, and an old patriarch came out
leaning on his staff, to revile and abuse the tigress. From some of
the young men we heard of a fresh kill to the north of the village,
and after tiffin we proceeded in that direction, following up the
course of the limpid stream, whose gurgling ripple sounded so
pleasantly in our ears.
Far ahead to the right, and on the further bank of the stream, we
could see dense curling volumes of smoke, and leaping pyramids of
flame, where a jungle fire was raging in some thick acacia scrub. As
we got nearer, the heat became excessive, and the flames, fanned into
tremendous fury by the fierce west wind, tore through the dry thorny
bushes. Our elephants were quite unsteady, and did not like facing the
fire. We made a slight detour, and soon had the roaring wall of flame
behind us. We were now entering on a moist, circular, basin-shaped
hollow. Among the patair roots were the recent marks of great numbers
of wild pigs, where they had been foraging among the stiff clay for
these esculents. The patair is like a huge bulrush, and the elephants
are very fond of its succulent, juicy, cool-looking leaves. Those in
our line kept tearing up huge tufts of it, thrashing out the mud and
dirt from the roots against their forelegs, and with a grunt of
satisfaction, making it slowly disappear in their cavernous mouths.
There was considerable noise, and the jungle was nearly as high as the
howdahs, presenting the appearance of an impenetrable screen of vivid
green. We beat and rebeat, across and across, but there was no sign of
the tiger. The banks of the nullah were very steep, rotten looking,
and dangerous. We had about eighteen elephants, namely, ten of our
own, and eight belonging to the Nepaulese. We were beating very close,
the elephants' heads almost touching. This is the way they always beat
in Nepaul. We thought we had left not a spot in the basin untouched,
and Captain S. was quite satisfied that there could be no tiger there.
It was a splendid jungle for cover, so thick, dense, and cool. I was
beating along the edge of the creek, which ran deep and silent,
between the gloomy sedge-covered banks. In a placid little pool I saw
a couple of widgeon all unconscious of danger, their glossy plumage
reflected in the clear water. I called to Captain S. 'We are sold this
time Captain, there's no tiger here!'
'I am afraid not,' he answered.
'Shall I bag those two widgeon?' I asked.
'All right,' was the response.
Putting in shot cartridge, I shot both the widgeon, but we were all
astounded to see the tiger we had so carefully and perseveringly
searched for, bound out of a crevice in the bank, almost right under
my elephant. Off he went with a smothered roar, that set our elephants
hurrying backwards and forwards. There was a commotion along the whole
line. The jungle was too dense for us to see anything. It was one more
proof how these hill tigers will lie close, even in the midst of a
line.
S. called out to me to remain quiet, and see if we could trace the
tiger's progress by any rustling in the cover. Looking down we saw the
kill, close to the edge of the water. A fast elephant was sent on
ahead, to try and ascertain whether the tiger was likely to break
beyond the circle of the little basin-shaped valley. We gathered round
the kill; it was quite fresh; a young buffalo. The Major told us that
in his experience, a male tiger always begins on the neck first. A
female always at the hind quarters. A few mouthfuls only had been
eaten, and according to the Major, it must have been a tigress, as the
part devoured was from the hind quarters.
While we were talking over these things, a frenzied shout from the
driver of our naka elephant caused us to look in his direction. He was
gesticulating wildly, and bawling at the top of his voice, 'Come, come
quickly, sahibs, the tiger is running away.'
Now commenced such a mad and hurried scramble as I have never
witnessed before or since, from the back of an elephant. As we tore
through the tangled dense green patair, the broad leaves crackled like
crashing branches, the huge elephants surged ahead like ships rocking
in a gale of wind, and the mahouts and attendants on the pad
elephants, shouted and urged on their shuffling animals, by excited
cries and resounding whacks.
In the retinue of the Major, were several men with elephant spears or
goads. These consist of a long, pliant, polished bamboo, with a sharp
spike at the end, which they call a _jhetha_. These men now came
hurrying round the ridge, among the opener grass, and as we emerged
from the heavy cover, they began goading the elephants behind and
urging them to their most furious pace. On ahead, nearly a quarter of
a mile away, we could see a huge tiger making off for the distant
morung, at a rapid sling trot. His lithe body shone before us, and
urged us to the most desperate efforts. It was almost a bare plateau.
There was scarcely any cover, only here and there a few stunted acacia
bushes. The dense forest was two or three miles ahead, but there were
several nasty steep banks, and precipitous gullies with deep water
rushing between. Attached to each Nepaulee pad, by a stout
curiously-plaited cord, ornamented with fancy knots and tassels of
silk, was a small pestle-shaped instrument, not unlike an auctioneer's
hammer. It was quaintly carved, and studded with short, blunt,
shining, brass nails or spikes. I had noticed these hanging down from
the pads, and had often wondered what they were for. I was now to see
them used. While the mahouts in front rained a shower of blows on the
elephants head, and the spear-men pricked him up from behind with
their jhethas, the occupant of the pad, turning round with his face to
the tail, belaboured the poor hathee with the auctioneer's hammer. The
blows rattled on the elephant's rump. The brutes trumpeted with pain,
but they _did_ put on the pace, and travelled as I never imagined an
elephant _could_ travel. Past bush and brake, down precipitous ravine,
over the stones, through the thorny scrub, dashing down a steep bank
here, plunging madly through a deep stream there, we shuffled along.
We must have been going fully seven miles an hour. The pestle-shaped
hammer is called a _lohath_, and most unmercifully were they wielded.
We were jostled and jolted, till every bone ached again. Clouds of
dust were driven before our reeling waving line. How the Nepaulese
shouted and capered. We were all mad with excitement. I shouted with
the rest. The fat little Major kicked his heels against the sides of
his elephant, as if he were spurring a Derby winner to victory. Our
usually sedate captain yelled--actually yelled!--in an agony of
excitement, and tried to execute a war dance of his own on the floor
of his howdah. Our guns rattled, the chains clanked and jangled, the
howdahs rocked and pitched from side to side. We made a desperate
effort. The poor elephants made a gallant race of it. The foot men
perspired and swore, but it was not to be. Our striped friend had the
best of the start, and we gained not an inch upon him. To our
unspeakable mortification, he reached the dense cover on ahead, where
we might as well have sought for a needle in a haystack. Never,
however, shall I forget that mad headlong scramble. Fancy an elephant
steeple-chase. Reader, it was sublime; but we ached for it next day.
The old Major and his fleet racing elephants now left us, and our
jaded beasts took us slowly back in the direction of our camp. It was
a fine wild view on which we were now gazing. Behind us the dark
gloomy impenetrable morung, the home of ever-abiding fever and ague.
Behind that the countless multitude of hills, swelling here and
receding there, a jumbled heap of mighty peaks and fretted pinnacles,
with their glistening sides and dark shadowless ravines, their mighty
scaurs and their abrupt serrated edges showing out clearly and boldly
defined against the evening sky. Far to the right, the shining
river--a riband of burnished steel, for its waters were a deep steely
blue--rolled its swift flood along amid shining sand-banks. In front,
the vast undulating plain, with grove, and rill, and smoking hamlet,
stretched at our feet in a lovely panorama of blended and harmonious
colour. We were now high up above the plain, and the scene was one of
the finest I have ever witnessed in India. The wind had gone down, and
the oblique rays of the sun lit up the whole vast panorama with a
lurid light, which was heightened in effect by the dust-laden
atmosphere, and the volumes of smoke from the now distant fires,
hedging in the far horizon with curtains of threatening grandeur and
gloom. That far away canopy of dust and smoke formed a wonderful
contrast to the shining snow-capped hills behind. Altogether it was a
day to be remembered. I have seen no such strange and unearthly
combination of shade and colour in any landscape before or since.
On the way home we bagged a florican and a very fine mallard, and
reached the camp utterly fagged, to find our worthy magistrate very
much recovered, and glad to congratulate us on our having bagged the
tigress. After a plunge in the river, and a rare camp dinner--such a
meal as only an Indian sportsman can procure--we lay back in our cane
chairs, and while the fragrant smoke from the mild Manilla curled
lovingly about the roof of the tent, we discussed the day's
proceedings, and fought our battles over again.
A rather animated discussion arose about the length of the tiger--as
to its frame merely, and we wondered what difference the skin would
make in the length of the animal. As it was a point we had never heard
mooted before, we determined to see for ourselves. We accordingly went
out into the beautiful moonlight, and superintended the skinning of
the tigress. The skin was taken off most artistically. We had
carefully measured the animal before skinning. She was exactly nine
feet long. We found the skin made a difference of only four inches,
the bare skeleton from tip of nose to extreme point of tail measuring
eight feet eight inches.
As an instance of tigers taking to trees, our worthy magistrate
related that in Rajmehal he and a friend had wounded a tiger, and
subsequently lost him in the jungle. In vain they searched in every
conceivable direction, but could find no trace of him. They were about
giving up in despair, when S., raising his hat, happened to look up,
and there, on a large bough directly overhead, he saw the wounded
tiger lying extended at full length, some eighteen feet from the
ground. They were not long in leaving the dangerous vicinity, and it
was not long either ere a well-directed shot brought the tiger down
from his elevated perch.
These after-dinner stories are not the least enjoyable part of a
tiger-hunting party. Round the camp table in a snug, well-lighted
tent, with all the 'materials' handy, I have listened to many a tale
of thrilling adventure. S. was full of reminiscences, and having seen
a deal of tiger shooting in various parts of India, his recollections
were much appreciated. To shew that the principal danger in tiger
shooting is not from the tiger himself, but from one's elephant
becoming panic-stricken and bolting, he told how a Mr. Aubert, a
Benares planter, lost his life. A tiger had been 'spined' by a shot,
and the line gathered round the prostrate monster to watch its
death-struggle. The elephant on which the unfortunate planter sat got
demoralised and attempted to bolt. The mahout endeavoured to check its
rush, and in desperation the elephant charged straight down, close
past the tiger, which lay writhing and roaring under a huge
overhanging tree. The elephant was rushing directly under this tree,
and a large branch would have swept howdah and everything it contained
clean off the elephant's back, as easily as one would brush off a fly.
To save himself Aubert made a leap for the branch, the elephant
forging madly ahead; and the howdah, being smashed like match-wood,
fell on the tiger below, who was tearing and clawing at everything
within his reach. Poor Aubert got hold of the branch with his hands,
and clung with all the desperation of one fighting for his life. He
was right above the wounded tiger, but his grasp on the tree was not a
firm one. For a moment he hung suspended above the furious animal,
which, mad with agony and fury, was a picture of demoniac rage. The
poor fellow could hold no longer, and fell right on the tiger. It was
nearly at its last gasp, but it caught hold of Aubert by the foot, and
in a final paroxysm of pain and rage chawed the foot clean off, and
the poor fellow died next day from the shock and loss of blood. He was
one of four brothers who all met untimely deaths from accidents. This
one was killed by the tiger, another was thrown from a vehicle and
killed on the spot, the third was drowned, and the fourth shot by
accident.
Our bag to-day was one tiger, one florican, one mallard, and two
widgeon. On cutting the tiger open, we found that the bullet had
entered on the left side, and, as we suspected, had entered the lungs.
It had, however, made a terrible wound. We found that it had
penetrated the heart and liver, gone forward through the chest, and
smashed the right shoulder. Notwithstanding this fearful wound,
shewing the tremendous effects of the Express bullet, the tiger had
gone on for the distance I have mentioned, after which it must have
fallen stone-dead. It was a marvellous instance of vitality, even
after the heart, liver, and lungs had been pierced. The liver had six
lobes, and it was then I heard for the first time, that with the
natives this was an infallible sign of the age of a tiger. The old
Major firmly believed it, and told us it was quite an accepted article
of faith with all native sportsmen. Facts subsequently came under my
own observation which seemed to give great probability to the theory,
but it is one on which I would not like to give a decided opinion,
till after hearing the experiences of other sportsmen.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Camp of the Nepaulee chief.--Quicksands.--Elephants crossing rivers.
--Tiffin at the Nepaulee camp.--We beat the forest for tiger.--Shoot
a young tiger.--Red ants in the forest.--Bhowras or ground bees.--The
_ursus labialis_ or long-lipped bear.--Recross the stream.--Florican.
--Stag running the gauntlet of flame.--Our bag.--Start for factory.
--Remarks on elephants.--Precautions useful for protection from the
sun in tiger shooting.--The _puggree_.--Cattle breeding in India, and
wholesale deaths of cattle from disease.--Nathpore.--Ravages of the
river.--Mrs. Gray, an old resident in the jungles.--Description of her
surroundings.
Next morning we started beating due east, setting fire to the jungle
as we went along. The roaring and crackling of the flames startled the
elephant on which Captain S. was riding, and going away across country
at a furious pace, it was with difficulty that it could be stopped. We
crossed the frontier line a short distance from camp, and entered a
dense jungle of thorny acacia, with long dry grass almost choking the
trees. They were dry and stunted, and when we dropped a few lights
amongst such combustible material, the fire was splendid beyond
description. How the flames surged through the withered grass. We were
forced to pause and admire the magnificent sight. The wall of flame
tore along with inconceivable rapidity, and the blinding volumes of
smoke obscured the country for miles. The jungle was full of deer and
pig. One fine buck came bounding along past our line, but I stopped
him with a single bullet through the neck. He fell over with a
tremendous crash, and turning a complete somersault broke off both his
horns with the force of the fall.
We beat down a shallow sandy watercourse, and could see the camp of
the old Major on the high bank beyond. Farther down the stream there
was a small square fort, the whitewashed walls of which flashed back
the rays of the sun, and grouped round it were some ruinous looking
huts, several snowy tents, and a huge shamiana or canopy, under which
we could see a host of attendants spreading carpets, placing chairs,
and otherwise making ready for us. The banks of the stream were very
steep, but the guide at length brought us to what seemed a safe and
fordable passage. On the further side was a flat expanse of seemingly
firm and dry sand, but no sooner had our elephants begun to cross it,
than the whole sandbank for yards began to rock and tremble; the water
welled up over the footmarks of the elephants, and S. called out to
us, Fussun, Fussun! quicksand, quicksand! We scattered the elephants,
and tried to hurry them over the dangerous bit of ground with shouts
and cries of encouragement.
The poor animals seemed thoroughly to appreciate the danger, and
shuffled forward as quickly as they could. All got over in safety
except the last three. The treacherous sand, rendered still more
insecure by the heavy tread of so many ponderous animals, now gave way
entirely, and the three hapless elephants were left floundering in the
tenacious hold of the dreaded fussun. Two of the three were not far
from the firm bank, and managed to extricate themselves after a short
struggle; but the third had sunk up to the shoulders, and could
scarcely move. All hands immediately began cutting long grass and
forming it into bundles. These were thrown to the sinking elephant. He
rolled from side to side, the sand quaking and undulating round him in
all directions. At times he would roll over till nearly half his body
was invisible. Some of the Nepaulese ventured near, and managed to
undo the harness-ropes that were holding on the pad. The sagacious
brute fully understood his danger, and the efforts we were making for
his assistance. He managed to get several of the big bundles of grass
under his feet, and stood there looking at us with a most pathetic
pleading expression, and trembling, as if with an ague, from fear and
exhaustion.
The old Major came down to meet us, and a crowd of his men added their
efforts to ours, to help the unfortunate elephant. We threw in bundle
after bundle of grass, till we had the yielding sand covered with a
thick passage of firmly bound fascines, on which the hathee,
staggering and floundering painfully, managed to reach firm land. He
was so completely exhausted that he could scarcely walk to the tents,
and we left him there to the care of his attendants. This is a very
common episode in tiger hunting, and does not always terminate so
fortunately. In running water, the quicksand is not so dangerous, as
the force of the stream keeps washing away the sand, and does not
allow it to settle round the legs of the elephant; but on dry land, a
dry fussun, as it is called, is justly feared; and many a valuable
animal has been swallowed up in its slow, deadly, tenacious grasp.
In crossing sand, the heaviest and slowest elephants should go first,
preceded by a light, nimble pioneer. If the leading elephant shows
signs of sinking, the others should at once turn back, and seek some
safer place. In all cases the line should separate a little, and not
follow in each other's footsteps. The indications of a quicksand are
easily recognised. If the surface of the sand begins to oscillate and
undulate with a tremulous rocking motion, it is always wise to seek
some other passage. Looking back, after elephants have passed, you
will often see what was a perfectly dry flat, covered with several
inches of water. When water begins to ooze up in any quantity, after a
few elephants have passed, it is much safer to make the remainder
cross at some spot farther on.
In crossing a deep swift river, the elephants should enter the water
in a line, ranged up and down the river. That is, the line should be
ranged along the bank, and enter the water at right angles to the
current, and not in Indian file. The strongest elephants should be up
stream, as they help to break the force of the current for the weaker
and smaller animals down below. It is a fine sight to see some thirty
or forty of these huge animals crossing a deep and rapid river. Some
are reluctant to strike out, when they begin to enter the deepest
channel, and try to turn back; the mahouts and 'mates' shout, and
belabour them with bamboo poles. The trumpeting of the elephants, the
waving of the trunks, disporting, like huge water-snakes, in the
perturbed current, the splashing of the bamboos, the dark bodies of
the natives swimming here and there round the animals, the unwieldy
boat piled high with how-dahs and pads, the whole heap surmounted by a
group of sportsmen with their gleaming weapons, and variegated
puggrees, make up a picturesque and memorable sight. Some of the
strong swimmers among the elephants seem to enjoy the whole affair
immensely. They dip their huge heads entirely under the current, the
sun flashes on the dark hide, glistening with the dripping water; the
enormous head emerges again slowly, like some monstrous antediluvian
creation, and with a succession of these ponderous appearances and
disappearances, the mighty brutes forge through the surging water.
When they reach a shallow part, they pipe with pleasure, and send
volumes of fluid splashing against their heaving flanks, scattering
the spray all round in mimic rainbows.