Part 4

We stopped at a rest-house about three miles from the village, and I sent the boy on ahead to buy food for us and to get information about the tigers. Then we engaged one of the local natives to act as guide and guard. I was exhausted by the trip and soon after supper I went to sleep.

A few hours after dark, I was awakened by the most unearthly yell I have ever heard. I jumped up and called the boy I had brought from Calcutta. He was trembling with fright and he said that he didn't know what the noise meant. Remembering all the tales I had heard about the people of this district, I ordered the boy to bar the doors and windows and to lay out my guns. I was well armed with automatics and revolvers and I prepared for a battle. Presently there came another yell, answered on all sides of us. With my guns loaded and ready, I sat there waiting. Every few minutes the yell was repeated, and it seemed to be getting closer and closer. At last, however, in spite of it, I fell asleep, exhausted.

I was awakened in the morning by the cook bringing my breakfast and the jingling of the ankle bells of a mail-runner, who was passing the house on his fifteen-mile run. After I had finished eating, the cook returned with the native who had been hired to guard us. The native salaamed and spoke to the boy, who acted as interpreter.

"What is he saying?" I asked the boy.

"He says that he is the head watchman and he wants to know if you slept well with him watching over you." The yells that had kept me up most of the night were the "All's well" of the watchmen. Much to the amazement of the cook and the guard who had come to inquire after my night's rest, I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard that I sat down on the floor and put my head against my knees--I howled.

The guard was given a few rupees and told to keep his watchmen farther away from the house the next night. To this day, when I think of myself sitting up all night, dead tired and fighting off mosquitoes, while my guards became imaginary thieves about to attack me, I laugh.

The headman of the village arrived with several natives and I went with them to inspect the tigers--two beautifully marked animals. I closed the bargain immediately and made arrangements to recage the tigers and haul them by ox-teams to Calcutta.

At Perth the directors of the New Gardens were so pleased with the tigers that they sent me a good bonus for my trouble in securing them. And my story about the thieves of Hazaribagh was the joke of the year.

There came a dearth of good animals at Singapore, and so I determined to go into the state of Trengganu to see what luck I should have at collecting. Trengganu was at that time an independent state and had never been thoroughly explored. The Sultan who ruled over it was unwilling to have white men in the country because he feared that his state might become a protectorate of one of the larger powers. He was wise enough to realize that if a white man entered and committed some such indiscretion as interfering with one of the native women, the white man would be found with a _kris_ stuck into him. And the result would probably be that the white man's government would send soldiers to depose the Sultan and take over the government. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his country, and so he made it a law that foreigners were not allowed.

At Singapore one heard many tales of the wealth of animals in Trengganu, but it was generally conceded that it was impossible for a white man to enter the country. For my part, though I had no idea how to win the Sultan to my way of thinking, I decided that it would be at least as easy as getting a permit to go into Lower Siam. That would have required interviewing H. H. Prince Damerong, brother of the King of Siam and Minister of the Interior, which was no easy matter for so obscure a person as I.

Meanwhile the rumor reached us that an immense herd of elephants was crossing from the State of Pahang into Trengganu, and I made up my mind to act instantly. A roaming herd of elephants is so serious a menace to rice-crops that I thought the Sultan might not object to having the assistance of a foreigner in capturing them. In any event, the chance was worth taking.

With the German captain of a small coast-steamer that called at Trengganu every three weeks, I made arrangements to drop me there. He protested that it was a senseless undertaking; that I wouldn't be allowed to land; that, if I was allowed to land, the Sultan would refuse to see me; that, if the Sultan granted me an interview, he would surely refuse to let me go inland; and that, if he allowed me to go inland, I would be killed by the natives. All the way up the coast, I listened to his arguments, and, when he asked me if I had changed my mind, I answered, "You just put me down on the beach, blow your whistle and go along."

Weeks later, when he returned and asked about me, the natives replied, "Sir, the master is in the jungle catching elephants."

I was on the biggest and most exciting elephant hunt of my life.

III

ELEPHANTS

I waited on the beach at Trengganu for a few minutes, until the German steamer was well out of the way; then I sent my Chinese boy into the village to engage living quarters. He returned presently with the information that a Chinese trader had offered to put me up. Ali and I followed him up the street of the village, with a group of inquisitive natives at our heels.

Soon after I had finished my first meal at the trader's house, a _tunku_ (petty prince) appeared with his followers. The meeting was solemn and formal, and he went through the ritual of inquiring after my health, though I could see that inquisitiveness was gnawing at him. At last he asked bluntly what my object was in coming to Trengganu.

"I have come to see the Sultan on important business."

He told me that it would be impossible for me to see the Sultan and offered to deliver my message. I waved him aside and told him that I must see the Sultan personally.

"Impossible," he replied, and departed in the direction of the palace. The palace was a half-finished, two-story brick dwelling. The Sultan had never been able to gather enough money to have the building completed; but, at that, it was the most imposing house in Trengganu.

An hour later, I started out with Ali and, the Chinese boy for the palace, to pay my respects to the Sultan and make another request for an interview. At the gate I was met by a tunku, who told me that the Sultan would not receive me. I returned to the trader's house and slept through the hot afternoon. When evening came, I went again to the palace and met with the same reception.

Twice a day for the entire week I called at the palace. I appeared to be making no headway, but I had been associated with the Malays long enough to know that the Sultan could not bear the strain much longer. Also, I knew that if I gave a tunku the least inkling of my purpose, all my hopes of hunting in Trengganu would be wrecked.

The Sultan gave in at last; he sent word to the gate that he would receive me, and I was ushered into the "reception room" of the palace. The Sultan, a middle-aged, scholarly-looking man, was waiting for me, with his retinue squatted around him. I gave him my card.

"What is it?" he asked.

"My name," I replied, bowing.

"What country are you from?"

"America."

He looked surprised and asked if I was English, French or Dutch; he thought that all white men must be of one of those races and that America was probably a colony.

Fortunately, I had some maps with me. I spread them on the floor and held a class in geography, with the Sultan and his retinue bending over me, listening intently. The Sultan was as enthusiastic on the subject of America as if he had discovered the country. I told him about our president and how he is elected, about the states and governors and the legislatures and Congress.

At last he lost interest in America and asked why I had come to Trengganu. I told him I had come to trap animals and I wanted his permission. He shook his head and replied that there were no animals in Trengganu.

"If you will send your messengers out," I answered, "you will find that an immense herd of elephants is crossing from Pahang into your country."

"How do you know?"

"I heard." It was a Malay answer, and I could see that he was interested. A roaming herd of elephants is dangerous; it spoils rice crops, terrorizes the natives--and most important of all--reduces the Sultan's income.

He ordered coffee and Malay cakes and plunged into thought. The coffee was muddy and bitter, but I drank it joyfully because I knew the Sultan, being worried, would probably see the wisdom of allowing me to enter his country and capture the elephants. Also I suggested that he would receive a bonus on each animal I captured. He nodded and asked me to come to the palace the next day.

Each day for three weeks I called on him and spent hours in telling him of my travels. And he told me something of the worries of being a Sultan. He was afraid that one of the big powers would establish a protectorate over Trengganu, depose him and reduce his people to slavery. He knew very little of foreigners, but he had come to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to keep them out. What did I think was the best plan? We held long conferences, in which I enlightened him on the ways of white men. The subject of elephant hunting scarcely came into the conversations, but I knew that he had sent messengers out to see if there was any truth in my story about the herd crossing from Pahang. I was slowly winning his confidence; everything depended upon the truth of that rumor I had picked up in Singapore.

Exactly three weeks after our first meeting, he greeted me with the words: "_Tûan châkap bêtul_ (Sir, you spoke the truth)."

"I always speak the truth," I answered, as if I were annoyed. The messengers had returned with the news that the herd had been seen near the Pahang River.

He asked what I proposed to do, and I drew a diagram of the trap I wanted to build. He asked if it would not be a better plan to shoot the big elephants and capture the young. I put stress on the royalty payments he would receive, and thus I won him to my way of thinking.

He assigned his nephew Omar--a tunku--to the duty of assisting me, and gave him full power to force as much labor as we might need. A few days later, Omar and I, accompanied by the Sultan, sailed down the coast to the Pahang. It was a wide, deep river, infested with crocodiles; settlements dotted the banks. At each of these we stopped and called on the headmen to conscript labor.

Since the men had to supply their own food and travel in their own boats, the cost of the expedition was reduced to nothing. We arranged that the men might be replaced by others from their villages, because they were loath to remain long away from their families.

Five days after leaving the capital, we arrived at the place where the herd had been located. We disembarked. There followed two weeks of hunting before we found the spoor that told us we had reached the elephants.

It was dense jungle; undergrowth, creepers and vines bound the trees together. The lack of sunlight and the dense atmosphere made progress slow. Sometimes the task of driving elephants on foot through such country seemed hopeless, but I kept the men at work, hacking out trails with _parangs_--their big knives. The insects were frightful, and we were all covered with bites. I developed fever and went about so "groggy" that I was not at all sure of myself; but huge doses of quinine and the excitement of tracking so large a herd kept me going.

The scouts reported that the herd numbered about one hundred. I assigned fifty men to surround the elephants and keep them moving in a circle within a definite area while we built the stockade.

The work of making the trap was prodigious. Trees, twenty to twenty-five feet in length and a foot and a half in diameter, were cut down and dragged through the jungle for half a mile or more to the spot I had selected. These were planted five feet in the ground and braced by three smaller trees, so that they could stand the enormous pressure of elephants trying to lunge through them. The trap was round--about seventy-five feet in diameter--with two wings, each one hundred feet long, converging to the entrance. After planting and bracing all the posts, we bound them together with heavy ropes made of twisted rattan, and then covered them with vines and leaves. For all this work the natives had no tools except their parangs. It was amazing to see the rapidity with which they cut down the big trees and slashed trails through the jungle. Omar and I were with them constantly, keeping up their enthusiasm and excitement.

In building the trap we took great care not to disturb the jungle through which the elephants were to be driven. Like all jungle animals, elephants can see at night, and there is always the danger of a stampede unless precautions are taken against arousing suspicion. The jungle leading up to the wings was untouched; and the wings and the trap could scarcely be distinguished from the dense growth that surrounded them. In the runway and in the trap the jungle was still standing without injury.

When the stockade was completed, an old Siamese priest offered to perform the ceremony that would bring the blessing of the deity of the jungle upon the drive. A white cock was found and fastened in the center of the trap. The priest selected a hundred men and stationed them near the entrance with fruits and branches of trees; then, with two natives, he withdrew into the jungle. Presently we heard them shouting. They came through the undergrowth, chanting and striking the trees with their spears and parangs. The priest rushed through the runway into the trap and seized the cock. With his knife he severed its head. Then, while the natives joined in a chorus of shouts, he ran about the trap, sprinkling the blood. Instead of coming out through the gate, he crawled between the posts. The ceremony ended, and the natives were ready to begin the hunt.

Word came from the men who were watching that the herd was four miles away. I gathered the natives around me, explained all the details of the drive and assigned men to the various tasks. Then we started in a body to get behind the herd. Every five hundred yards, I stationed a man in a tree to steer the drive.

Driving elephants at night is a slow, trying, dangerous job. It means fighting every foot of the way through dense jungle and keeping up a continual hubbub of tom-toms and shouts. The elephants wish to avoid the noise and they move slowly away from it, crashing through the trees and vines. The men who are directly behind have the easiest time, for they can follow the trails broken by the elephants; those on the side must cut trails with their parangs. No lights can be used, and care must be taken to avoid the little elephants, which roam about, investigating the noise. If they see a man and give the danger-signal, the entire herd stampedes.

When we arrived behind the herd, I spread the men out in a U formation, warning them to make no noise until the signal was given. With Ali standing near me with my express rifle, I waited until darkness came; then I gave the signal and started forward. Ali, Omar, the priest, my Chinese boy and a few others followed along behind me, shouting. The noise was taken up on each side of us, and presently we heard the elephants moving forward, throwing their great hulks against the jungle growths. The night was black, and we stumbled on, guided only by the calls of the men in the trees. Insects swarmed about us, biting until we were frantic. Sometimes the noise on either the left or the right suddenly increased, and we knew that the herd had veered in that direction and that the men were frightening them off.

Dawn came, and we found that we had driven them a mile and a half. It had been exhausting work. I posted guards to watch the herd, and we slept until late in the afternoon. Our bodies were covered with welts from insect bites and the sting of nettles and were torn and scratched by the sharp vines; and I was throbbing with the fever. When darkness came again, it seemed to me that the enterprise was all a wild nightmare.

Early the next day the stampede hit us without warning. A small elephant, straying from the herd, saw some of the men on the right; he ran back, trumpeting the danger. Then the bellowing herd came down upon us.

Ali shoved my rifle into my hands and I jumped behind a tree. The Siamese priest stumbled and fell. Before I could shoot, a big bull elephant stepped on him and tore him in two, throwing the upper portion of his body over my head. I was spattered with blood. Elephants, bellowing furiously, rushed past us; men screamed and scrambled for places of safety. The immense animals loomed up in the darkness for a second and then disappeared. In their excitement some collided with trees.

There was no need to shoot; it would have been like holding up a fan to fend off a cyclone. I hugged my tree, keeping my gun in position. I was discouraged; our efforts had been wasted and the herd was scattered. That would be a fine story to take back to the Sultan.

When the elephants had passed, I called to the men. We lighted torches and searched for the injured. Three had been killed and twelve hurt, and I was thankful there weren't more casualties. We buried the dead. Ali brought up my medical kit and helped me dress the wounds.

After a few hours' sleep, I found that I wasn't quite so discouraged, and so I called the men together and lectured them on the necessity of being careful. They showed no signs of mutiny, and so we started off again in search of the herd. It was not difficult to find them, for they cut a swath in the jungle to the point where they stopped, five miles from the scene of the stampede.

Again I posted guides in the trees and spread out the drivers. Every man was alert, and, when night ended, we were considerably nearer the trap. In the minds of the elephants there seemed to be no connection between the noise that was driving them and the men they had seen the night before, and they went ahead peaceably.

Leaving scouts to watch the herd, I gathered the men together and praised them. Success rekindled the enthusiasm that had been damped by the stampede, and, when we threw ourselves down to snatch a few hours' sleep, we were convinced that the drive would proceed without trouble. The scouts reported that the herd was slightly depleted, but, even so, it was the largest herd that any of us had ever seen, much less driven.

At nightfall, each day, the men were again in position, waiting for my signal; and, three nights later, we approached the stockade. The men went wild with delight. And above the uproar, I could hear the calls of the guides in the trees, telling us our distance from the trap.

The big beasts jammed in the runway between the wings, heaving and struggling, and forcing those ahead of them into the trap. The walls of the wings groaned as they threw their bodies against the posts. The elephants bellowed, and the natives kept up a continual pandemonium. I mounted the platform and looked down; I could see nothing but a tossing flood of black that poured slowly from the runway into the trap.

When the last elephant was inside, the ropes that held the gate were cut. The gate crashed down; bars were run through the sockets; the elephants were trapped.

On my platform I shouted as loudly as any of the Malays. Torches were lighted and the men began dancing. I slipped to the ground and warned them against climbing up on the walls of the stockade, for I was fearful that the sight of men might enrage the elephants. If the beasts suddenly took it into their heads to charge the wall in a body, some of the posts might give way. I could hear them milling around inside the trap, bellowing and tearing up the jungle in an effort to find a way out. Through the remainder of the night the natives danced, ate and drank. Then, when dawn was beginning to light up the sky, I climbed to the platform again and looked down into the trap. There were sixty elephants!

The men, armed with long, spiked poles, mounted to the running platform on the top of the posts, and the celebration was renewed. I stood there, breathless, wondering how many of them, in their excitement, would fall off the platform into the trap. But none did fall, and they fended off the charges of the elephants by sticking them in the heads and bodies with their spikes.

Omar immediately sent a messenger to the Sultan with the good news, and the word passed from village to village. Natives poured in to inspect the catch, and the messenger returned with the news that the Sultan was on his way. It was a historic occasion in Trengganu. The Sultan had never been in the interior of his own country before, and never had there been such an elephant hunt in the state. Omar busied himself with the details of the royal reception while I cared for the catch.

We cut holes in the rattan webbing between the posts and enticed the small elephants to come out. There were several babies in the lot, and they soon became playful and affectionate. Baby elephants are just three feet high at birth and weigh about two hundred pounds. They grow an inch each month. We made pets of them and amused ourselves with weaning them. We did this by taking a pail of warm milk and dipping the babies' trunks into it, then doubling the trunks up and putting them into their owners' mouths, and finally squirting milk in with a squirt gun. The babies soon learned to imitate this procedure. They were mischievous little animals, full of fun and inquisitiveness. Hour after hour, I played with them and laughed until I ached.

The Sultan arrived with his retinue, and we gave him a ceremonial greeting. Deputations from all the villages were present, and Omar requisitioned food for a great feast. The Sultan had little to say about the elephants until I took him up on the platform where he could count them for himself. For a minute he looked at them, wide-eyed; then he repeated, "Sir, you spoke the truth."

"I always speak the truth," I replied, and I could see by his expression that he believed me. He was convinced that I was honest. I knew that I had his protection for any expeditions I might undertake in Trengganu. His friendship had been difficult to win, but it was worth the trouble--quite aside from the value of the elephants. Trengganu was virgin country, filled with animals that my customers wanted to buy, and I had the exclusive privilege--so far as foreigners were concerned--of hunting there. And, since the Sultan received a bonus on the animals captured, he provided me with labor.

The Sultan remained several days and we spent much of our time in talking over the problems of government. These conversations ended by my becoming a sort of foreign adviser in all dealings with European countries. Later, before Trengganu was made a British protectorate, he awarded me some valuable tin concessions. The new arrangement under the British government was made satisfactorily; he received a suitable pension and he passed happily into a purely honorary position in his state, relieved of all the complexities of political administration. When I last saw him, he was living in indolent comfort, surrounded by his wives--and his two-story brick palace was at last completed.