Feringeea, the narrator of the preceding mournful incident, was a fine handsome fellow, greatly admired by the women, and much respected by his associates. His name was given to him in memory of an attack made by a party of Feringees (Europeans) under the French General Perron, on his uncle's village in distraint of certain customs' dues. As his mother fled from the scene of violence and brutality, she was seized with labour pains and brought a man child into the world, whom, in remembrance of the terror and anguish she had endured, she named Feringeea. On one occasion Feringeea, when he had grown to man's estate and had become a famous leader, was travelling with his cousin Aman Soobahdar and a gang of 150 Thugs through Rajpootana, when he fell in with a handmaid of the Peishwah Bajee Rao, on her way from Poonah to Cawnpore. "We intended to kill her and her followers," he quietly remarked to Captain Sleeman, "but we found her very beautiful, and after having her and her party three days within our grasp, and knowing that they had £15,000 worth of property in jewels and other things with them, we let her and all her party go; we had talked to her and felt love towards her, for she was very beautiful."
But beauty was not always equally powerful to save. At another time, he came up with a beautiful young Moghulanee, travelling with an old female servant, mounted on a pony, an armed attendant, and six palanquin-bearers. The ill-fated damsel, unhappily for herself and her companions, became enamoured of the dashing, handsome young Thug. In vain he tried to shake her off, for he feared a scandal might arise if he, a Brahmin, had any improper intercourse with a Mussulmaunee. And the exchange of other than Platonic love would have saved her life. So at last he insisted that they should "take" her, and she was accordingly put to death. "It was her fate," he said, not excusing himself, but putting the matter in the right light, "It was her fate to die by our hands." Captain Sleeman, then asked Madar Buksh, who actually strangled the poor Moghulanee, if he had no pity for the beautiful young woman. "I had," he answered, "but I had undertaken the duty, and we must all have food." As if hurt by the enunciation of such a base practical motive, Feringeea here struck in, saying, "We all feel pity sometimes, but the goor (consecrated coarse sugar) of the Tapoonee, (feast after a murder), changes our nature. It would change the nature of a horse. Let any man once taste of that goor, and he will be a Thug, though he knew all the trades and have all the wealth in the world. I never wanted food; my mother's family was opulent, her relations high in office: I have been high in office myself, and become so great a favourite wherever I went, that I was sure of promotion; yet I was always miserable while absent from my gang, and obliged to return to Thuggee. My father made me taste of that fatal goor when I was yet a mere boy; and, if I were to live a thousand years, I should never be able to follow any other trade." The fascination of the abominable "trade" is almost incredible. There were many instances of Thugs enlisting into the Company's service, and making excellent soldiers; and yet, whenever an opportunity presented itself, they would get two parades' leave, join some of their old associates, commit as many murders as possible, and then, with satisfied feelings, return to their duty.
Feringeea, after the apprehension of his gang, could have escaped to other clans in Rajpootana and Telingana, "but," said he, "you had secured my mother, wife, and child: I could not forsake them—was always inquiring after them, and affording my pursuers the means of tracing me. I knew not what indignities my wife and mother might suffer. Could I have felt secure that they would suffer none, I should not have been taken." He was finally captured by two striplings, whom he could easily have overpowered, had he not imagined that they were supported by a party of police outside the hut, and that all resistance was therefore idle. At one period of his life, he was in General Ochterlony's service, and a great favourite with Sir David. His wife was not aware that he was a Thug. "Her family," he proudly remarked to Captain Sleeman, "are of the aristocracy of Jhansee and Sumtur, as you may know." His foster-brother, being informed the day before his execution, that his foster-mother had been arrested, earnestly begged, as a last favour, that he might have an interview with her as she was led to the scaffold. His request being granted, "he fell at the old woman's feet, and begged she would release him from the obligations of the milk with which she had nourished him, and the care with which she had cherished him from infancy, as he was about to die before he could fulfil any of them. She placed her hands on his head, and he knelt, and she said she forgave him all, and bid him die like a man." The sons were worthy of such mothers, heroic in their firm resolve. There is likewise on record one example of a woman, named Baroonee, who used to assist her husband to strangle his victims. Once she saved his life when nearly overpowered, by tightly pulling the roomal round the neck of the struggling wretch, till he fell dead at her feet. Mothers frequently compelled their sons to go on Thuggee, and wives their husbands; and there was one woman in the Deccan, who kept a gang, though it does not appear that she ever accompanied them. Among the ancient male leaders none was more venerated than Dada Dheera, of the Bhursote clan, whose name was oft-times invoked over spiritual potations, at certain religious ceremonies. Next to him, was the Mooltanee leader, Jhora Naek, who, assisted only by his servant, Koduk Bunwaree, once strangled a man possessed of property to the value of £16,200. Instead of appropriating this valuable prize, he drove the mule home, assembled his neighbours, and distributed to each the share to which he would have been entitled had he been actually present at the murder. For this remarkable display of honour and self-denial, both he and his wife were canonized. The leadership was usually the reward of merit. "A man," said one of them, "who has always at command the means of advancing a month or two's subsistence to a gang, will be called a Jemadar; a strong, resolute man, whose ancestors have been for many generations Thugs, will soon get the title; or a very wise man, whose advice in difficult cases has weight with the gang; one who has influence over local authorities, or the native officers of courts of justice; a man of handsome appearance and high bearing, who can feign the man of rank well—all these things enable a man to get around him a few who will consent to give him the fees and title of Jemadar; but it requires very high and numerous qualifications to gain a man the title of Soobahdar."
It is now time to consider what omens were good, what bad, in the eyes of this strange fraternity. There does not seem to have been any particular reason for deciding on the hidden meaning of the incidents that were supposed to be sent to regulate their conduct. The division of tokens and prodigies into auspicious and adverse was, indeed, most arbitrary and capricious, and can scarcely in any one instance be accounted for. The good were not so numerous as the bad, for even these habitual murderers gladly clutched at any excuse for evading the necessity of taking human life. Very promising was it, on first setting out, to meet a woman, carrying on her head a pitcher full of water: they then felt assured of a happy return to their homes, especially if she happened to be with child. Still better was it to hear an ass bray on the left hand, and then on the right; the expedition might last for years, it would always be attended with success; it passed into a proverb—Sou puk, heroo ek dunteroo,—"One ass is worth a hundred birds." Another proverb,—Baean geedee sona leedee, intimated, that "a jackal, crossing from right to left, brings gold." To rhymed sayings of this kind they were partial, as an assistant to memory. Here is a more elaborate instance:
Ratee bolee teetura,
Din ko bolee seear,
Tuj chulee wa deysra,
Nuheen puree achanuk dhar.
That is, being interpreted, "If the partridge call at night, or the jackal during the day, quit that country, or you will be seized." Immediate and valuable booty might be expected, if the large hill-crow were heard croaking on a tree, with a river or tank in sight; but the reverse was the case, if the bird were seated on a live buffalo or pig, or on the skeleton of any dead animal. Pleasant, too, was the prospect, if a cat came prowling to their encampment by night; and equally cheering to see a wolf, or a shrike, crossing the road from the right to the left; or a large male antelope, or a herd of small deer, or the blue jay, crossing from left to right. It was good to hear the hare calling at night, upon the left, or the loud, continued hooting of the small owl, when sitting; or the call of the partridge, on the left, while travelling, and on the right, while halting. If a herd of deer came in sight, they looked, ere long, to fall in with another gang of Thugs. The call of the sarus was the most variable of all. It was very encouraging if heard first on the left, and then on the right, on opening an expedition, and also on reaching a stage, if heard on the right; if repeated on the left, a rich prize was at hand, but ill luck was betokened if it first sounded on the left; equally inauspicious was the cry heard on the right, on leaving a stage, unless preceded on the left. The most frequent reference was to Pilhaoo and Thibaoo; by the former was meant the voice or appearance of omen-endowed animals on the left hand, by the latter, that on the right. If the Pilhaoo were good, it was improved by being followed by the Thibaoo; if evil, the danger was in like manner diminished. Unless both were obtained before setting out, the expedition was deferred to a later season. On leaving a stage, the Pilhaoo was full of promise,—the Thibaoo of warning; a rule that was reversed on reaching a halting ground.
On the other hand, if a turban fell off, or caught fire, the gang returned home, if at no great distance, and remained quiet for seven days; otherwise, they offered up goor (coarse sugar), and the owner of the turban alone retraced his steps. An expedition had also to be re-commenced, if on the first day or night it encountered the Ansootare, literally, "tear drops;" that is, a shower of rain falling in the dry season, or in any month save June, July, August, and September; nor could any success be anticipated if it thundered, with little or no rain, when a gang was ready to set out. A very dreadful omen was the cry of the kite, heard during the interval between the first watch and day-break. All would then start to their feet, and betake themselves to hurried flight; though no alarm was entertained if the cry were heard between sunset and the end of the first watch, because then "the omen was suffocated under their sides as they turned in their sleep." Hardly less disastrous was a lizard falling upon a Thug; any garment that it touched must be given away in charity. Nothing but ill luck followed the meeting a maimed person, or an oil-vender, or a woman bearing an empty water-jar, or a leper, or any one emaciated by sickness; to meet a donkey face to face, was called Mataphore, or "the head-breaker." It was of evil import to see a jackal, or a wolf, cross the road from left to right, or a large male antelope, or small deer, from right to left. If a snake crossed either behind or in front of the gang, they must kill it or return home; in either case sacrifices were required. The sight of two jackals crossing the road together, in front, foretold prison and chains. The call of one jackal was bad; the general clamour, or "lamentation" of a pack, still worse; but the short, broken cry of that animal, or the noise of several fighting, rendered it necessary to take to precipitate flight. It was ill-omened to hear the call of the kite while flying, or that mournful sound known as the "weeping" of the wolf, or the low hooting of the small owl, repeated two or three times; or the loud responsive cry of two large owls, or the low clicking sound of that bird, or the slight chirp of the small owl, either sitting or flying. If any member of the gang sneezed, either on first setting out, or on leaving a halting-ground, expiatory sacrifices were offered, and all travellers then in their power were allowed to escape. Were a dog seen to shake its head, no Thug would dream of executing any design he might previously have formed.