Confessions of a Thug

by Meadows Taylor

We continued the whole of the march together, and he beguiled the way with relations of his adventures, battles and escapes. I was as much fascinated by them as by his powers of conversation, which were remarkable; and I often wished that I had met him as a friend, or enrolled myself under him, when I might have followed his banner and endeavoured to equal his deeds of valour. But he was marked: in our emphatic language he was become a "bunij," and he was doomed to die by every rule and sacred obligation of our profession. We reached our first stage without any adventure. Beyond it the villagers told us that the jungle grew thicker and thicker, that the road was very bad and stony, and above all, that the Gonds were in arms, and plundered all whom they met with.

"Let them try us," said the Nuwab, as he listened to the relations, "let them try us! Inshalla! they will do us no harm, and it may be some of them will get broken crowns for their pains."

But the next morning we moved with more caution; our men were desired to keep well together, and I picked out a trusty few to surround the cart, which moved on with difficulty over the rough and stony roads; the Nuwab and myself rode at the head of the party. As we advanced, the road grew wilder and wilder; in many places it was narrowed almost to a footpath, and the men were obliged to cut away the branches, which often nearly met across the road, so as to allow the cart to proceed. At other times it ran between high banks, which almost overhung us, and from which missiles might have been showered on our heads, without a possibility of our being able to strike a blow in self-defence.

"That was an ugly place, Nuwab Sahib," said I, as we emerged from one of these narrow passes into a more open country, though still covered with jungle; "had we been attacked there we should assuredly have fallen victims."

"It was indeed," said he; "and I am thankful we have got out of it; if I remember aright it has a bad name. From hence however I think there are no more; the jungle becomes a forest, and there is not so much underwood. But look," cried he, "what is that? By Alla! the Gonds are upon us. Shumshere Alum!" cried he, in a voice which rang like the sound of a trumpet, "Sumshere bu dust!" and his glittering blade flashed from the scabbard. Checking his horse, and at the same time touching its flanks with his heels, the animal made two or three bounds, after which the Nuwab fixed himself firmly in his seat, pressed down his cap upon his head, and cried to me to be ready.

I was not behindhand; my sword was drawn and my shield disengaged, which I placed before me to guard me from the arrows. A few bounds of my horse, which was scarcely second to the Nuwab's, brought me to his side, and we were followed by Bhudrinath and a few others mounted on ponies, and some men on foot with their matchlocks. "Come on, ye sons of defiled mothers," cried the Nuwab; "come on, and prove yourselves true men; come on, and try your cowardly arrows against stout hearts and ready weapons! Base-born kafirs are ye, and cowards; Inshalla! your sisters are vile, and asses have loved your mothers."

I could not help laughing at the Nuwab's gesticulations and abuse, as he poured it upon the Gonds and shook his sword at them. They would not move, and perched up as they were on the side of a hill, they prepared their bows to give us a volley—and down it came certainly; the arrows whistled past us, and one wounded the Nuwab's horse slightly in the neck, at which the Gonds set up a shout of triumph.

"Ah, my poor Motee, thou art wounded," cried he, drawing the arrow from the wound. "Meer Sahib, those rogues will never come down; you had better give them a volley and disperse them."

"Now, my sons," cried I to my followers, "whenever a fellow raises his body to fire, do you mark him."

They did so. One Gond in particular, who was sitting on a rock drawing a large bow, which he placed against his feet, was a conspicuous object, and apparently careless of his safety. Surfuraz Khan aimed at him—fired—and in an instant he rolled over and over, almost to our feet; the ball had hit him in the throat, and he was quite dead. The rest seeing his fate, set up loud yells, and for a moment we thought they would have charged us; however, another of their number fell badly wounded, and carrying him off, they rapidly retreated to their mountain fastnesses. Pursuit would have been vain as it was impracticable.