Whole herds of elephants are driven into ill concealed enclosures which no other wild animal could be got to enter, and single ones are caught by their legs being tied together by men under cover of a couple of tame elephants. Elephants which happen to effect their escape are caught again without trouble. Even experience does not bring wisdom.
These facts are certainly against the conclusion that the elephant is an extraordinarily shrewd animal, much less one possessed of the power of reasoning in the abstract, with which he is commonly credited. I do not think I traduce the elephant, when I say it is in many things a stupid animal, and I can assert with confidence that all the stories I have heard of it, except those relating to feats of strength or docility performed under its trainer's or keeper's direction, are beyond its intellectual power and are but pleasant fiction.
It often happens that persons who do not understand elephants give them credit for performing actions which are suggested to them, and in which they are directed by their trainer or by the mahout on their necks. I think that all who have had to deal with elephants, will agree in saying that their good qualities cannot be exaggerated and that their vices are few, and only occur in exceptional animals. The not uncommon idea that elephants are treacherous and retentive of injury, is a groundless one.
Elephants do not push with their foreheads or the region above their eyes, but with the base of the trunk or snout, about one foot below the eyes. Elephants are poor sighted, and are so intent on being off when thoroughly started, that I have been almost brushed against without being discovered.
The rapidly advancing line of huge heads and cocked ears bobbing up and down as the elephants come rushing on, leveling everything before them, is a trying sight, and at first one requires some nerve—and the reflection they are escaping, not charging—to stand still.
If circumstances ever occur to make a run unavoidable, the pursued hunter should always take down hill and choose the steepest place at hand, as the elephants fear to trust themselves on a rapid descent at any great pace; uphill, or on the level, man would be immediately overtaken. When elephants are close at hand, standing in indecision, no one should shout to turn them; a charge by one or more of them is sure to be made if they are suddenly started at this time.
Eight months passed at breaking elephants. I was sick with fever and dysentery and I was glad when we could break camp. Riding on the head of an elephant, I led my catch through the jungle to port. Once again I paid my respects to the Sultan, who told me that I might hunt in Trengganu whenever I pleased. A year before, I should have been wildly delighted at the prospect of having Trengganu open to me under his protection, but now, with my health broken, I did not care much if I never saw the country again.
I arranged for the keeping of the animals until they could be brought by boat to Singapore, and then I caught the first coast steamer south, taking four elephants with me. At Singapore I found that the story of the big capture had been the talk of the city for months. In fact, several days after I arrived, I went to call on my former enemy, Mahommed Ariff, and he took off his turban and bowed. We had many dealings after that, and he always treated me with the greatest respect and honesty.
When I was leading one of the smaller elephants through the street on my way to the animal house I had rented in Orchard Road, I was approached by an Arab.
"Tûan mau jûal? (Sir, do you wish to sell?)" he asked.