Chapter 23

"When a tiger springs on an elephant, the latter is generally able to shake him off under his feet, and then woe be to him. The elephant either kneels on him and crushes him at once, or gives him a kick which breaks half his ribs, and sends him flying perhaps twenty paces. The elephants, however, are often dreadfully torn; and a large old tiger clings too fast to be thus dealt with. In this case it often happens that the elephant himself falls, from pain, or from the hope of rolling on his enemy; and the people on his back are in very considerable danger both from friends and foes. The scratch of a tiger is sometimes venomous, as that of a cat is said to be. But this does not often happen; and, in general, persons wounded by his teeth or claws, if not killed outright, recover easily enough.

"I was at Jaffna, at the northern extremity of the Island of Ceylon, in the beginning of the year 1819: when, one morning, my servant called me an hour or two before my usual time, with, 'Master, master! people sent for master's dogs--tiger in the town!' Now, my dogs chanced to be some very degenerate specimens of a fine species, called the _Poligar_ dog, which I should designate as a sort of wiry-haired grayhound, without scent. I kept them to hunt jackals; but tigers are very different things: by the way, there are no real tigers in Ceylon; but leopards and panthers are always called so, and by ourselves as well as by the natives. This turned out to be a panther. My gun chanced not to be put together; and while my servant was doing it, the collector, and two medical men, who had recently arrived, came to my door, the former armed with a fowling-piece, and the latter with remarkably blunt hog-spears. They insisted upon setting off without waiting for my gun, a proceeding not much to my taste. The tiger (I must continue to call him so) had taken refuge in a hut, the roof of which, as those of Ceylon huts in general, spread to the ground like an umbrella; the only aperture into it was a small door, about four feet high. The collector wanted to get the tiger out at once. I begged to wait for my gun; but no--the fowling-piece (loaded with ball, of course) and the two hog-spears were quite enough. I got a hedge-stake, and awaited my fate, from very shame. At this moment, to my great delight, there arrived from the fort an English officer, two artillery-men, and a Malay captain; and a pretty figure we should have cut without them, as the event will show. I was now quite ready to attack, and my gun came a minute afterward. The whole scene which follows took place within an enclosure, about twenty feet square, formed, on three sides, by a strong fence of palmyra leaves, and on the fourth by the hut. At the door of this the two artillery-men planted themselves; and the Malay captain got on the top, to frighten the tiger out, by worrying it--an easy operation, as the huts there are covered with cocoa-nut leaves. One of the artillery-men wanted to go in to the tiger, but we would not suffer it. At last the beast sprang; this man received him on his bayonet, which he thrust apparently down his throat, firing his piece at the same moment. The bayonet broke off short, leaving less than three inches on the musket; the rest remained in the animal, but was invisible to us: the shot probably went through his cheek, for it certainly did not seriously injure him, as he instantly rose upon his legs, with a loud roar, and placed his paws upon the soldier's breast. At this moment, the animal appeared to me to about reach the center of the man's face; but I had scarcely time to observe this, when the tiger, stooping his head, seized the soldier's arm in his mouth, turned him half round staggering, threw him over on his back, and fell upon him. Our dread now was, that if we fired upon the tiger, we might kill the man: for a moment there was a pause, when his comrade attacked the beast exactly in the same manner as the gallant fellow himself had done. He struck his bayonet into his head; the tiger rose at him--he fired; and this time the ball took effect, and in the head. The animal staggered backward, and we all poured in our fire. He still kicked and writhed; when the gentlemen with the hog-spears advanced, and fixed him, while the natives finished him, by beating him on the head with hedge-stakes. The brave artillery-man was, after all, but slightly hurt: he claimed the skin, which was very cheerfully given to him. There was, however, a cry among the natives that the head should be cut off: it was; and in so doing, the knife came directly across the bayonet. The animal measured scarcely less than four feet from the root of the tail to the muzzle There was no tradition of a tiger having been in Jaffna before; indeed, this one must have either come a distance of almost twenty miles, or have swam across an arm of the sea nearly two in breadth; for Jaffna stands on a peninsula, on which there is no jungle of any magnitude."

INDIAN DEVIL.

There is an animal in the deep recesses of the forests of Maine, evidently belonging to the feline race, which, on account of its ferocity, is significantly called "Indian Devil"--in the Indian language, "the Lunk Soos;" a terror to the Indians, and the only animal in New England of which they stand in dread. You may speak of the moose, the bear, and the wolf even, and the red man is ready for the chase and the encounter. But name the object of his dread, and he will significantly shake his head, while he exclaims, "He all one debil!"

An individual by the name of Smith met with the following adventure in an encounter with one of these animals on the Arromucto, while on his way to join a crew engaged in timber-making in the woods.

He had nearly reached the place of encampment, when he came suddenly upon one of these ferocious animals. There was no chance for retreat, neither had he time for reflection on the best method of defence or escape. As he had no arms or other weapons of defence, his first impulse, in this truly fearful position, unfortunately, perhaps, was to spring into a small tree near by; but he had scarcely ascended his length when the desperate creature, probably rendered still more fierce by the promptings of hunger, sprang upon and seized him by the heel. Smith, however, after having his foot badly bitten, disengaged it from the shoe, which was firmly clinched in the creature's teeth, and let him drop. The moment he was disengaged, Smith sprang for a more secure position, and the animal at the same time leaped to another large tree, about ten feet distant, up which he ascended to an elevation equal to that of his victim, from which he threw himself upon him, firmly fixing his teeth in the calf of his leg. Hanging suspended thus until the flesh, insufficient to sustain the weight, gave way, he dropped again to the ground, carrying a portion of flesh in his mouth. Having greedily devoured this morsel, he bounded again up the opposite tree, and from thence upon Smith, in this manner renewing his attacks, and tearing away the flesh in mouthfuls from his legs. During this agonizing operation, Smith contrived to cut a limb from the tree, to which he managed to bind his jack-knife, with which he could now assail his enemy at every leap. He succeeded thus in wounding him so badly that at length his attacks were discontinued, and he finally disappeared in the dense forest. During the encounter, Smith had exerted his voice to the utmost to alarm the crew, who, he hoped, might be within hail. He was heard, and in a short time several of the crew reached the place, but not in time to save him from the dreadful encounter. The sight was truly appalling. His garments were not only rent from him, but the flesh literally torn from his legs, exposing even the bone and sinews. It was with the greatest difficulty he made the descent of the tree. Exhausted through loss of blood, and overcome by fright and exertion, he sunk upon the ground and immediately fainted; but the application of snow restored him to consciousness. Preparing a litter from poles and boughs, they conveyed him to the camp, washed and dressed his wounds, as well as circumstances would allow, and, as soon as possible, removed him to the settlement, where medical aid was secured. After a protracted period of confinement, he gradually recovered from his wounds, though still carrying terrible scars, and sustaining irreparable injury. Such desperate encounters are, however of rare occurrence, though collisions less sanguinary are not infrequent.

BEAR FIGHT.

A sanguinary encounter with bears took place in the vicinity of Tara-height, on the Madawaska river, a few years since:

"A trap had been set by one of the men, named Jacob Harrison, who, being out in search of a yoke of oxen on the evening in question, saw a young bear fast in the trap, and three others close at hand in a very angry mood, a fact which rendered it necessary for him to make tracks immediately. On arriving at the farm, he gave the alarm, and, seizing an old dragoon sabre, he was followed to the scene of action by Mr. James Burke, armed with a gun, and the other man with an axe.

"They proceeded direct to the trap, supplied with a rope, intending to take the young bear alive. It being a short time after dark, objects could not be distinctly seen; but, on approaching close to the scene of action, a crashing among the leaves and dry branches, with sundry other indications, warned them of the proximity of the old animals. When within a few steps of the spot, a dark mass was seen on the ground--a growl was heard--and the confined beast made a furious leap on Jacob, who was in advance, catching him by the legs. The infuriated animal inflicted a severe wound on his knee, upon which he drew his sword and defended himself with great coolness.

"Upon receiving several wounds from the sabre, the cub commenced to growl and cry in a frightful and peculiar manner, when the old she-bear, attracted to the spot, rushed on the adventurous Harrison, and attacked him from behind with great ferocity. Jacob turned upon the new foe, and wielded his trusty weapon with such energy and success, that in a short time he deprived her of one of her fore paws by a lucky stroke, and completely disabled her, eventually, by a desperate cut across the neck, which divided the tendons and severed the spinal vertebrae. Having completed his conquest, he had ample time to dispatch the imprisoned cub at leisure."

"During the time this stirring and dangerous scene, we have related, was enacting, war was going on in equally bloody and vigorous style at a short distance. Mr. Burke, having discharged his gun at the other old bear, only slightly wounded him; the enraged Bruin sprang at him with a furious howl. He was met with a blow from the butt-end of the fowling-piece. At the first stroke, the stock flew in pieces, and the next the heavy barrel was hurled a distance of twenty feet among the underwood by a side blow from the dexterous paw of the bear. Mr. Burke then retreated a few feet, and placed his back against a large hemlock, followed the while closely by the bear, but, being acquainted with the nature of the animal and his mode of attack, he drew a large hunting knife from his belt, and, placing his arms by his side, coolly awaited the onset.

"The maddened brute approached, growling and gnashing his teeth, and, with a savage spring, encircled the body of the hunter and the tree in his iron gripe. The next moment, the flashing blade of the _couteau chasse_ tore his abdomen, and his smoking entrails rolled upon the ground. At this exciting crisis of the struggle, the other man, accompanied by the dog, came up in time to witness the triumphal close of the conflict.

"Two old bears and a cub were the fruit of this dangerous adventure--all extremely fat--the largest of which, it is computed, would weigh upward of two hundred and fifty pounds. We have seldom heard of a more dangerous encounter with bears, and we are happy to say that Mr. Burke received no injury; Mr. Jacob Harrison, although torn severely, and having three ribs broken, recovered under the care of an Indian doctor of the Algonquin tribe."

THE MINERS OF BOIS-MONZIL.

On Tuesday, February 22, 1831, a violent detonation was suddenly heard in the coal mine of Bois-Monzil, belonging to M. Robinot. The waters from the old works rushed impetuously along the new galleries. "The waters, the waters!" such was the cry that resounded from the affrighted workmen throughout the mine. Only ten miners out of twenty-six were able to reach the entrance. One of them brought off in his arms, a boy eleven years old, whom he thus saved from sudden death; another impelled by the air and the water, to a considerable distance, could scarcely credit his escape from such imminent danger; a third rushed forward with his sack full of coals on his shoulders, which, in his fright, he had never thought of throwing down.

The disastrous news, that sixteen workmen had perished in the mine of M. Robinot, was soon circulated in the town of St. Etienne. It was regarded as one of those fatal and deplorable events unfortunately, too common in that neighborhood, and on the ensuing Thursday it was no longer talked of. Politics, and the state of parties in Paris, exclusively occupied the public attention.

The engineers of the mines, however, and some of their pupils, who, on the first alarm, had hastened to the spot, still remained there, continuing their indefatigable endeavors to discover the miners who were missing. Nothing that mechanical science, manual labor, and perseverance, prompted by humanity, could perform, was left undone.

Thirty hours had already elapsed since the fatal accident, when two workmen announced the discovery of a jacket and some provisions belonging to the miners. The engineers immediately essayed to penetrate into the galleries where these objects had been found, which they accomplished with much difficulty, by crawling on their hands and feet. In vain they repeatedly called aloud; no voice, save the echo of their own, answered from those narrow and gloomy vaults. It then occurred to them to strike with their pickaxes against the roof of the mine. Still the same uncheering silence! Listen! yes! the sounds are answered by similar blows! Every heart beats, every pulse quickens, every breath is contracted; yet, perhaps, it is but an illusion of their wishes--or, perhaps, some deceitful echo. They again strike the vaulted roof. There is no longer any doubt. The same number of strokes is returned. No words can paint the varied feelings that pervaded every heart. It was (to use the expression of a person present) a veritable delirium of joy, of fear, and of hope.

Without losing an instant, the engineers ordered a hole to be bored in the direction of the galleries, where the miners were presumed to be; at the same time, they directed, on another point, the formation of an inclined well, for the purpose of communicating with them.

Two of the engineer's pupils were now dispatched to the mayor of St. Etienne, to procure a couple of fire pumps, which they conducted back to the mine, accompanied by two firemen. In the ardor of youthful humanity, these young men imagined that the deliverance of the miners was but the affair of a few hours; and, wishing to prepare an "agreeable surprise" for the friends of the supposed victims, they gave strict injunctions at the mayoralty to keep the object of their expedition a profound secret.

Notwithstanding the untiring efforts made to place these pumps in the mine, it was found impossible. Either they were upon a plane too much inclined to admit of their playing with facility, or the water was too muddy to be received up the pipes; they were therefore abandoned. In the meantime, the attempts made to reach the miners by sounding or by the inclined well, seemed to present insurmountable difficulties. The distance to them was unknown; the sound of their blows on the roof, far from offering a certain criterion, or, at least, a probable one, seemed each time to excite fresh doubts; in short, the rock which it was necessary to pierce, was equally hard and thick, and the gunpowder unceasingly used to perforate it, made but a hopeless progress. The consequent anxiety that reigned in the mine may be easily conceived. Each of the party, in his turn, offered his suggestions, sometimes of hope, sometimes of apprehension; and the whole felt oppressed by that vague suspense, which is, perhaps, more painful to support than the direst certainty. The strokes of the unfortunate miners continued to reply to theirs, which added to their agitation, from the fear of not being able to afford them effectual help. They almost thought that in such a painful moment their situation was more distressing than those they sought to save, as the latter were, at any rate, sustained by hope.

While most of the party were thus perplexed by a crowd of disquieting ideas, produced by the distressing nature of the event itself, and by their protracted stay in a mine where the few solitary lamps scarcely rendered "darkness visible," the workmen continued their labors with redoubled ardor; some of them were hewing to pieces blocks of the rock, which fell slowly and with much difficulty; others were actively employed in boring the hole before named, while some of the engineers' apprentices sought to discover new galleries, either by creeping on "all fours," or by penetrating through perilous and narrow crevices and clefts of the rock.

In the midst of their corporeal and mental labors, their attention was suddenly excited from another painful source. The wives of the hapless miners had heard that all hope was not extinct. They hastened to the spot; with heart-rending cries and through tears alternately of despair and hope, they exclaimed, "Are they _all_ there?" "Where is the father of my children? Is _he_ among them, or has he been swallowed up by the waters?"

At the bottom of the mine, close to the water-reservoir, a consultation was held on the plan to be pursued. Engineers, pupils, workmen, all agreed that the only prospect of success consisted in exhausting the water, which was already sensibly diminished, by the working of the steam-pump; the other pumps produced little or no effect, notwithstanding the vigorous efforts employed to render them serviceable. It was then proposed remedying the failure of these pumps by _une chaine a bras_, viz, by forming a line, and passing buckets from one to the other; this method was adopted, and several of the pupils proceeded with all speed to St. Etienne. It was midnight. The _generale_ was beat in two quarters of the town only. The Hotel de Ville was assigned as the place of rendezvous. On the first alarm, a great number of persons hurried to the town-hall, imagining a fire had broken out, but, on ascertaining the real cause, several of them returned home, apparently unmoved. Yet these same persons, whose supposed apathy had excited both surprise and indignation, quickly reappeared on the scene, dressed in the uniform of the National Guard. So powerful is the magic influence of organized masses, marching under the orders of a chief, and stimulated by _l'esprit de corps_.

It was truly admirable to see with what address and rapidity the three or four hundred men, who had hastened to Bois-Monzil, passed and repassed the buckets, by forming a chain to the bottom of the mine. But their generous efforts became too fatiguing to last long. Imagine a subterranean vault, badly lighted, where they were obliged to maintain themselves in a rapid descent in a stooping posture, to avoid striking their heads against the roof of the vault, and, most of the time, up to the middle in the water, which was dripping from every side; some idea may then be formed of their painful situation. They were relieved from this laborious duty by the _Garde Nationale_ of St. Etienne, whose zeal and enthusiasm exceeded all praise. But a more precious reinforcement was at hand; the workmen from the adjacent mines now arrived in great numbers. From their skill and experience every thing might be expected; if they failed there was no further hope.

The _chaine a bras_ was again renewed by companies of the National Guard, relieved every two hours, who, at respective distances, held the lights, and under whose orders they acted. It was a cheering spectacle to behold citizens of all ranks engaged in one of the noblest offices of humanity, under the direction of poor colliers.

The immense advantages of the organization of the National Guard, were never more strikingly exemplified than on this occasion. Without them, there would have been no means or possibility of uniting together an entire population; of leading the people from a distance of more than three miles, night and day, so as to insure a regular and continued service; all would have been trouble and confusion. With them, on the contrary, every thing was ready, and in motion, at the voice of a single chief; and the whole was conducted with such precision and regularity as had never on similar occasions, been witnessed before.

The road from St. Etienne to Bois-Monzil, exhibited a scene of the most animated kind. In the midst of the motley and moving multitude, the National Guards were seen hurrying to and fro; chasseurs, grenadiers, cavalry and artillery-men, all clothed in their rich new costume, as on a field day. Some of the crowd were singing _a la Parisienne_, others were lamenting, praying, hoping, despairing, and, by "fits and starts," abandoning themselves to those opposite extravagances of sentiment so peculiarly characteristic of a French population. When night drew her sable curtains around, the picturesque of the scene was still more heightened. Fresh bands of miners, conducted by their respective chiefs, coming in from every side; their sooty visages lighted up by glaring torches; National Guards arriving from different parts of the country, to join their comrades of St. Etienne; farmers and peasants, on horseback and afoot, hastening to offer their humane aid; sentinels posted--muskets piled--watch-fires blazing, and, in short, the _tout ensemble_ rendered the approaches of Bois-Monzil like a bivouac on the eve of an expected battle; happily, however, the object of these brave men was to preserve life and not to destroy it.

On Saturday, the _chaine a bras_ was discontinued, as the engineers had brought the pumps effectually to work. Suddenly a cry of joy was echoed from mouth to mouth, "They are saved! they are saved! six of them are freed from their subterraneous prison!" shouted a person at the entrance of the mine. The rumor was instantly repeated along the crowd, and a horseman set off at full speed for St. Etienne, with the gratifying news; another followed, and confirmed the report of his predecessor. The whole town was in motion, and all classes seemed to partake of the general joy, with a feeling as if each had been individually interested. In the exuberance of their delight they were already deliberating on the subject of a _fete_, to celebrate the happy event, when a third horsemen arrived. The multitude thronged round him, expecting a more ample confirmation of the welcome tidings. But their joy was soon turned to sorrow, when they were informed that nothing had yet been discovered, save the dead bodies of two unfortunate men, who, together had left eleven children to lament their untimely fate.