Wild beasts

by J. Hampden Porter

“During the mêlée just described, Captain Delamaine, from an apprehension of hitting some one, had been deterred from firing; but as the lion was retreating he discharged both barrels of his double gun, and broke one of the hind legs of the beast.

“Upon receiving this wound the lion at once turned, and rushing at the elephant, sprang up on his hind quarters and fixed his fangs in the thick part of the tail. The poor animal perfectly screamed from the extreme torture, which was little to be wondered at, as this unfortunate appendage had only a week previously been severely lacerated by a huge tiger. The elephant now swayed to and fro to such a degree that his rider had some difficulty in retaining his seat in the howdah, and was much less able to take an accurate aim at the lion, which, screened as it was by the protruding rump of the elephant, would have been scarcely practicable. The Captain, besides, had only one barrel remaining, and it therefore behooved him to be most cautious that his last charge was not ineffectually expended.

“This trying scene continued for two or three minutes, during which Delamaine anxiously looked out for Captain Harris. But unluckily his elephant had been rendered unmanageable by the maltreatment it had itself received from the lion, and it was not, therefore, in his power to render aid to his friend.”

The appearance of the lion at this time, maddened as he was with pain and rage, is described as most awful.

“At length the beast’s long-continued attack on the elephant caused the poor animal evidently to give way and to sink behind, and had the affair continued a short time longer, there is no doubt it would have been on its haunches, and the rider at the mercy of the fierce assailant.

“Finding matters in this very critical state, it became necessary for him to risk everything. Leaning, therefore, over the back of the howdah, and clinging to it with one hand, he with the other discharged his rifle, a very heavy one, at the head of the lion (the piece at the time oscillating, or swinging, in a manner corresponding with the roll of the elephant), and as luck would have it, the ball, after crashing through the beast’s jawbone, subsequently traversed the whole length of its body.

“This caused the lion to let go his hold, and for a few seconds he appeared to be partially paralyzed, but recovering himself, he slowly retreated towards the thicker cover.”

Subsequently he was again attacked by the party, and in two or three instances charged them as gallantly as ever; but as he was always received with a heavy fire, an end was at length put to his existence.

There is no need to add much to what has been said of the effect produced by inherited and personal experience. Nobody denies that lions are possessed of intelligence, and this being the case, they learn to avoid known dangers, and to take advantage of those conditions which have previously proved favorable. If this and what it implies were not true, there could be but one reason for it, which is that the race was congenitally idiotic. Therefore to dispute about the lion’s courage as if there might be archetypal beasts differently endowed from those representatives of their species which naturally, and of necessity, vary in boldness with changing environments, appears to be a waste of time. Furthermore, the possession of power of any kind to a great degree determines its exercise, and it is impossible to suppose that an animal which, above all others, except the tiger, is specialized for violence, will not be blood-thirsty and aggressive.

Sir Samuel Baker appears to be the only writer, really an authority, who knows nothing authentic and has no personal cognizance of the forays of lions upon villages and camps. Delgorgue, Harris, Cumming, Andersson, and everybody else whose opportunities for observation have been at all extensive, recognize such incidents as perfectly well established. Indeed, taking the character of this beast and its situation into consideration, the only thing surprising about the matter would be that it had not done those things upon whose reality Baker seems to cast a doubt. Drummond relates a story in this connection, in the scenes of which he was himself an actor, and as many of those traits which have been discussed are well brought out in his narrative, it is given in full.