Garratt reckoned they had an hour at most. He’d no intention of being here after dark, for there’d be no moon worth the name to see them out, and they’d need half an hour of what light remained after the sun set to find the road home (which would anyway be tricky enough to follow if the cloud continued to roll in). And if the tiger chose to hunt at night, then so be it; but he reckoned that if it were indeed a juvenile, it wouldn’t yet be inclined to, for what animal powerful enough to hunt by day would do so instead by night?
His mare was obliging. In fact she seemed only too glad of the respite. There were no troublesome flies either. He let out the reins a good length, catching them in the crook of his right arm so that he could aim quickly without losing them, while she lowered her head to doze.
From time to time he glanced at the sticking-place. Askew looked commendably upright and steady, with his back to the tree rather than shrinking behind it. Evidently he intended facing the tiger squarely, and if he succumbed it would be a noble death, a better thing for someone to write home of – he himself perhaps – to whoever was his kin, instead of … what exactly? Did the Sixth write also when a man had been hanged, or shot? He’d never thought of it until now. What had they done in the Rifles? They’d certainly shot a few in his day – in Spain at least …
He marvelled again at how quickly the sun fell at this hour. He’d not take out his watch, though, for his mare was sound asleep – as good as; he wouldn’t risk a pull on the reins. But an hour must have passed – three-quarters, certainly, for the sun couldn’t have fallen so fast … He supposed he’d better end the vigil soon, for once it was below the horizon here the night was on them before they knew it. Besides, his leg was …
His mare started. He almost lost the rein. He made to turn—
The blunderbuss deafened him.
But it missed the target.
The tiger sprang.
Garratt ducked right while bringing up his rifle.
Crack! A desperate shot – instinct, not aim.
The years repaid, though: the brute fell dead as the mare suddenly squealed and bucked, tumbling him from the saddle – but he rolled in one movement to his feet, making to reload even as he did so.
‘Sahib! Sahib!’
‘Raghav, what the devil …’
‘Sahib, I very sorry, sahib. Tiger came from long grass like Kali sudden from Durga’s brow, all terrible look, sahib. But Raghav not afraid, sahib. He shoot tiger.’
‘Shoot at tiger, Raghav! At it! How the deuce did you miss with that artillery?’
He’d no more idea who Kali and Durga were than the syce probably did Abraham, but whatever Raghav was prattling about, to his mind a thunderous great weapon like that was worth it only once in a campaign – and this would have been the once.
‘Yes, sahib. I thank very much, sahib. Raghav he not afraid of tiger.’ Garratt swore and picked up his reins, his mare stock-still as Lot’s wife. He made much of her. Even a cavalry charger shouldn’t have to suffer a blunderbuss going off next her – and a tiger springing.
She whinnied after a while, and Garratt got back into the saddle. ‘Now,’ he said, taking his telescope from its holster; ‘how is our tethered goat – goats indeed.’
The light was fast fading, but there was Askew at his post still, and perfectly upright.
‘Good man; good man!’
His orders had been that no one was to move – tiger or no – until he himself gave the word. He didn’t for one minute think there’d be yet another beast, but he’d known of more than one piquet that had shot a sentry of its own who’d moved to ease himself or the like.
All looked clear.
‘Come on, Raghav, let’s away.’
‘Sahib, what of tiger? He many rupee.’
‘Damn it, man; how in heaven’s name d’you propose we skin it? He’s jackal meat, unless the village bring him in.’
He’d try to get them to, of course. The tiger was no great size, and he’d certainly prize the pair of skins – tigress and progeny. But he’d no intention of trying to find it in the dark with them, not with a long hack to barracks afterwards, his stomach empty and his throat dry – even if he could get the village to search. He’d just have to trust to promising more silver.
They trotted smartly to the tree. Askew saluted. Corporal Simpson cantered up looking anxious, having thought he’d get there to untie him before Garratt saw.
‘Damned useless goat,’ was all that Garratt said, though, ignoring the rope. He’d not remark on Askew binding himself to the tree, like Odysseus to the mast to resist the sirens. If that’s what it took, then all the greater his courage …
‘Would you cut me free, Corporal Simpson, please?’ asked the prisoner calmly.
Simpson’s sabre did quick work. Garratt, new-come still in so much, could but admire the deftness with which dragoons handled the arme blanche – though a little more practice with the carbine wouldn’t go amiss …
But now that he looked – that knot, a reef, surely? And the other side of the trunk. How on earth could Askew have tied it?
VII
Major Sleeman
The governor’s council chamber, a week later
The introductions were a little stiff. Hervey was not in the best of spirits, for an attack of the remittent fever had kept him in his bed for the whole of the two days before. And although Milne had dosed him so powerfully with an antipyretica, as he called it, that he’d been on his feet again that morning, his head was by no means entirely free of the pounding that accompanied the sweats. (Or perhaps it was, as the saying went, the heavy fire of medicinal artillery?) Besides, he was conscious of his position as a commanding officer of cavalry, as well as a brevet colonel – not to mention acting commander-in-chief in the absence of Sir Robert O’Callaghan. This visitor was important – superintendent of the Thagi Daftar (department) of Jubbulpore, no less – but he wished first to be sure that his importance was of consequence.
‘Major Sleeman, Colonel, at your service.’
Hervey bowed.
‘And this is Captain Fairbrother,’ added Somervile, ‘who is to act as my particular exploring officer.’
There were others in the room, a dozen or so military and writers, of whom Hervey took no notice except to nod. The superintendent was three or four years his senior (as he’d learned from the Army List), an inch or so taller, a little stocky, with a round and open face – a shade care-worn perhaps – and reddish-gold hair beginning to recede. Not, perhaps, a picture of entire good health, but a rather more striking figure than he’d expected, for it was held that long service in India generally diminished men in stature.
Hervey refused the offer of Madeira and took lime water instead, and a seat at the table. ‘How long was your journey from Jubbulpore, Major?’
‘The better part of two months, Colonel, but I took the opportunity to call on the residents at Nagpore and Haidarabad, and the agent also at Chintalpore.’
Hervey nodded. ‘And how did you find Chintal?’
‘Not, I fear, a place of contentment. There continues dispute with the Nizam, and forever skirmishing – banditry – with Nagpore. The state is not without enterprise, though. Some very fine rubies have been found these late years, and exploration goes apace, in the course of which coal, too, has been found. There are steam engines that pump water from the excavations, and haul out the earth – a very advanced thing – and plans for a steamer on the Godavari. Do you know Chintal, Colonel?’
‘In the late rajah’s time, yes. I’m surprised there’s no full-blown embassy still, especially in light of what you say. Does the agent have like status to resident?’
Somervile, looking slightly anxious, raised a hand. ‘This I think we may speak of later, respecting other matters, if you will.’ Then, turning again to Sleeman, ‘I would that you tell Colonel Hervey what you told me earlier of the extent now of your remit.’
‘Of course, Sir Eyre … Colonel Hervey, sir, five years ago Fort William char
ged me with directing a campaign against what has generally become known as thuggee. The word thug means, simply, “deceiver”, although here in the south of India, where the cult is not so general, they are sometimes known as phansigars – Hindoostanee also, from the Persian, meaning those who use a noose.’ …
Sleeman explained that during his time as a political officer in the Central Provinces, which lay along the boundary in Bengal with the presidency of Madras, he’d come to make a study of this particular and murderous cult of Kali, the Hindoos’ goddess of destruction. ‘The thug associations which we are now engaged in suppressing have been taught by those whom they revere as the expounders of the will of their deity that the murders they perpetrate are pleasing to her, provided they are perpetrated under certain restrictions, attended by certain observances, and preceded and followed by certain rites and sacrifices, and offerings. The deity who, according to their belief, guides and protects them is ever manifesting her will by signs; and as long as they understand and observe these signs they all consider themselves as acting in conformity to her will; and consequently, fulfilling her wishes and designs.’
He looked at Hervey for leave to proceed, and Hervey nodded. (He couldn’t see what business it was of his, but it would at least make for an interesting page or two in his next letter home.)
‘On all occasions they believe these signs to be available if sought after in a pure spirit of faith, and with the prescribed observances; and as long as they are satisfied that they are truly interpreted and faithfully obeyed they never feel any dread of punishment either in this world or the next.’
‘They are all Hindoo?’
‘By no means; it appears that the creed is held by Hindoo and Mussulman alike – of which latter there are many. However, I’ve sometimes observed that when death is at hand, in the case that they fear they’ve not been strict in their observances, they’re apt to believe that a deathbed repentance will appease a justly offended God, and secure their pardon.’
Hervey nodded again. It seemed to him not dissimilar to the beliefs of many a Catholic brigand.
The discourse continued, until Hervey held up a hand to ask what the ryots, the simple peasant people of the villages among whom the thugs must live, made of them.
Sleeman shook his head and sighed. ‘This is perhaps one of our greatest hindrances. In some cases the village communities and the local authorities in the native states have a notion that the thugs are under some supernatural influence, and dread the consequences of being made in any way instrumental to their punishment. Such people oppose their arrest and conviction as they would oppose the killing of a snake or a wolf.’
‘Wolf?’ He knew of the superstition regarding snakes right enough.
‘In many parts a village will lament the killing of a wolf within their boundary as a great calamity, even though it would have taken a child every week. They consider the wolf an instrument in the hand of God, and dread the consequence of any violence to it. Indeed, in some parts the thugs are accustomed to leave the bodies of their victims unburied, having no fear of inquiry or pursuit from the local governments. Though I have to say that in the main they conceal them very thoroughly.’
Hervey frowned. ‘It puzzles me that they should murder as well as rob if there’s no likelihood of arrest, but I suppose you will say that the two are as one to them … But why is their trade so lucrative?’
‘Oh, that is the aspect of the problem over which I can have the least influence. If I may, Colonel?’
‘Proceed.’
‘The practice all over India of sending remittances in precious metals and jewels – whenever the rate of exchange makes it in the smallest degree profitable to do so – by men on foot and in disguise, without any guard or arms to defend themselves, at once provides opportunity. Likewise, I regret to say, the necessity of drawing recruits for our armies from distant provinces, and of granting a certain portion leave to revisit their homes every year during the hot season, when they set out every morning before daylight in order to avoid the heat of the sun during the day.’
Hervey’s eyes narrowed. ‘They murder sepoys, you say?’
Sleeman nodded. ‘We know it because, fearful of being found with any piece of uniform, which they certainly cannot sell, they bury their victims without stripping the body, which otherwise they always do.’
‘Damnable.’
‘And, of course, the mode of travelling on foot or on small ponies, being almost universal among those who have occasion to make long journeys whatever their rank or condition, makes the thug’s work easier. As well, the unreserved manner in which travellers of the same caste mix and communicate, and the facility with which men can feign different castes.’
Hervey, though repelled by the murder of any man in a red coat (and troubled yet by headache), was becoming impatient. ‘It appears to me to be a hopeless case.’
Somervile said that at first he’d thought the same, but was now inclined to take a less passive view – not least because thuggee was no longer confined to the native states, and the honour of the Company, and thereby the Crown, was at stake. ‘I think we might compare it with the state of England in past centuries – when highwaymen and foot-pads, brigands of all sorts, were not uncommon. The King’s Peace was won only by degrees.’
Hervey nodded. ‘I am not an antiquarian, but I accept the premise: a start has to be made. But with so much traffic, I cannot see how.’
Sleeman raised his hand. ‘If I may, Colonel: I believe that here, we are so to speak in England before the canals and the turnpikes. The pace of transport – of every aspect of daily life indeed – where all is carried on foot or bullock carts, provides opportunity, and likewise the assassin has little chance of being overtaken and intercepted in his operations.’
Hervey saw where this was leading, but bid him continue anyway, not least out of regard for his old friend.
‘Thuggee, Colonel, is a spider’s web of family connections, and I am convinced that this very fact will be its undoing. The strength of a web lies in its unity. Careful gathering of intelligence – in which I’ve been engaged now for a considerable time – will take apart that unity strand by strand.’
‘I understand that. Continue.’
Sleeman looked gratified at last. Five years ago, he explained, he began systematically to record every known instance of thuggee crime. This depended on the evidence of ‘approvers’ – turncoats: ‘The first point I make always to ascertain from the approver the time, place and mode of the murders as near as possible – the place whence the murdered persons came and whither they were going – and the property they had with them. On these points the approvers are always well informed. I then send to local officers of my acquaintance and have the bodies dug up before the people of the neighbouring villages, whose depositions on oath are taken down by the local authorities of the district on a form of my devising for the evidences. If the bodies are not found, the people of these villages may have seen them at the time, before their murder, and their depositions to this point will answer the purpose.’
Hervey was puzzled. ‘But from all you said previously I’d have imagined there to be reluctance on their part to furnish such information? They don’t fear reprisals?’
‘That is the encouraging part of it. If the village is of good character – and much depends on the headman – and the inquiry is well conducted, as fatalists they will cooperate. If not of good character, they will fear intrusion into the village and thereby the uncovering of all sorts of misdemeanour, but even this can be used to advantage – the threat of turning every stone. The gangs – who are not from the parts where they do their marauding – make a point of not molesting any from those parts. Nor as a general rule do they prey on European travellers, which would bring down the severest wrath of the authorities, but once they move on, there is opportunity for a diligent policeman.’
He explained that over the past five years he’d accumulated several thousand names of active th
ugs, and also their genealogies. Most of those he’d interrogated personally confessed to being born stranglers, and the older ones to have initiated their children into what they saw as their rightful inheritance. ‘They don’t hesitate in the slightest to tell you, or blush to confess the number of murders they’ve committed. They show no moral disquiet in what they’ve done – nor indeed any fear of what awaits them on the gallows. They take it as part and parcel of life. It’s very strange to the English mind, Colonel Hervey, but not at all to theirs.’
Hervey nodded again.
Sleeman unfolded one of his genealogies.
Hervey was astonished by its detail.
Then he unrolled a large map hanging on the wall, on which were marked the different gangs’ areas of activity, and explained how he used it to predict their future movement.
Hervey got up to study it closer.
It even reached some distance into the presidency.
‘Truly, I am all astonishment. This is a most particular collation of intelligence.’
‘The governor-general has been generous with his encouragement and subventions, without which, I fear, we would not make progress.’
Somervile seconded the opinion. ‘Major Sleeman has also discovered that some of these gangs work with the connivance of certain zamindars, and perhaps even princely rulers. There has of late been increase in the waylaying of treasury parties despatched by sahoukars – bankers, that is – who as a rule follow set routes and are expected to arrive at their destination by certain dates. We are speaking of considerable sums, Colonel Hervey, such as would be attractive to a nabob.’
‘They travel with an armed escort, I imagine?’
Sleeman nodded. ‘They do, but some of the gangs are thirty and more, and, as their name suggests, they do their work first by deception – only then the roomal, the strangling cloth.’
He spoke for an hour in all, explaining how with the genealogies, the maps and the approvers he would soon be in a position to take the offensive against thuggee rather than, as up to now, gathering intelligence and biding his time, content simply to put before the magistrates the open and shut cases. When the time was right, and soon, he would concert a campaign to capture the gangs and at the same time arrest all who were named in his charts as connected with them. ‘That way I trust that the material evidence gained from the gangs, together with the increase in approvers once our success becomes widely known, will be enough to send most of them to prison, or even to the hangman. But for this I’ll need the assistance of considerable military force to supplement my nujeebs.’
The Tigress of Mysore Page 8
