The Wanderings of an Elephant Hunter

by Walter Dalrymple Maitland Bell

I had been watching the whole manœuvre carefully, paddle in hand. When he said those words I knew there was dirty work afoot. When, therefore, the leader laid hold of the canoe I hit him a terrific blow on the head with my stout ash steering paddle. At the same time my boy shoved off, and there we were almost at once 10 yds. from the shore gang. Their leader was not stunned by my blow—it seems almost impossible to stun black men—and he had hurriedly unslung his rifle and was feverishly loading it. His companions were likewise occupied. The first ready raised and levelled his rifle, and before he could fire I shot him, aiming for the arm. He yelled and dropped his arm, while the others let fly a volley as they ducked and ran. I fired no other shot, but was sorely tempted. My boy and I now paddled vigorously for the open water, bullets raining around us, but not very close. I could distinguish a small-bore among the reports of the soldiers’ guns; it was the white man of the fort taking a hand. I drew a bead on him and was again tempted, but managed to withstand it. Presently they got their cannon—a Nordenfelt, I believe—into action, but what they fired at I cannot conceive, for the shots came nowhere nearer than 100 yds. to us. I feel that one or two good rifle shots might have taken that post without any great trouble or danger to themselves.

I wondered now what to do about it. The whole thing was an infernal nuisance. I thought the best thing I could do was to go to the nearest English port and report the matter to the authorities, which I did; and in a day or two all my boys turned up except one. They said that when the row started down on the beach all the soldiers and the white man seized their rifles and rushed out to the heights overlooking the bay. With them went the guards detailed to look after the prisoners. When the road was clear these latter simply walked out of the deserted post, spread out, and were quickly lost in the bush. All except one, who foolishly ran down to the beach. He was shot. The others soon made their way overland and arrived safely at the English port.

After reorganising my safari I found myself heading for a new region, the country lying around Mt. Schweinfurth. Native information said elephant were numerous and the ivory large. This time I took all my sporting rifles. This meant that, besides my two personal rifles, I had five smart boys armed with good rifles. We all felt ready to take on anything at any time.

A few miles back from the Nile we found an exceptionally dense and isolated patch of forest. There was no other forest for miles around, and into this stronghold were crowded all kinds of elephant. They could not be dislodged or driven out as we very soon found on trying it. I never saw such vicious brutes. When you had killed a bull you could not approach it for furious elephant. I devoted some time to this patch, getting a few hard-earned bulls from it. Right in its centre there was a clear space of an acre or two in extent. Here, one day, I found a few cows and one bull sunning themselves. I had an easy shot at the bull and fired, killing him. At the shot there arose the most appalling din from the surrounding forest. Elephant in great numbers appeared from all sides crowding into the little clearing until it was packed with deeply agitated animals. Those that could, shoved their way up to the dead bull, alternately throwing their heads high in the air, then lowering them as if butting at the prostrate bull. They did not know my whereabouts, but they knew that the danger lay in the forest, for they presented a united front of angry heads all along the side within my view. They seemed to regard this clear spot as their citadel, to be defended at all cost. Short intimidating rushes out from the line were frequently made, sometimes in my direction, but more often not. But when I got a chance at another bull and fired, I really thought I had done it this time, and that the whole lot were coming. So vicious was their appearance, and so determined did they seem as they advanced, that I hurriedly withdrew more deeply into the forest. Looking back, however, I saw that, as usual, it was mostly bluff, and that they had stopped at the edge of the clearing. Presently they withdrew again, leaving, perhaps, 20 yds. between them and the forest edge. I approached again to try for another bull. Clumsy white-man fashion I made some noise, which they heard. A lightning rush by a tall and haggard looking cow right into the stuff, from which I was peeping at them, sent me off again. I now began to wonder how I was to reach the two bulls I had shot. I did not want to kill any of the cows, but thought that it might become necessary, especially as they seemed to be turning very nasty indeed. The annoying part was that I had seen several bulls right out in the sea of cows. Fitting cartridges between my left hand fingers and with full magazine I approached as quietly as possible, fully prepared to give anything heading my way a sound lesson. Looking into the brilliantly lit open space from the twilight of the forest, I saw over the backs and heads of the cows between us the towering body of a large bull well out in the centre of the herd. His tusks were hidden by the cows, but it was almost certain from his general mass that they would be satisfactory. Just the little dark slot above the earhole was intermittently uncovered by the heads, ears or trunks of the intervening cows, which were still much agitated. At last I got a clear slant and fired. The image was instantly blocked out by the thrown-up heads of several cows as they launched themselves furiously towards the shot. I was immediately engaged with three of the nearest, and sufficiently angry with them to stand my ground. I hoped also to hustle the herd out of their fighting mood. I had spent days of trouble in this patch of forest. My boys had been chased out and demoralised when they attempted to drive them. I myself had been badly scared once or twice with their barging about, and it was now time to see about it. My shot caught the leading cow in the brain and dropped her slithering on her knees right in the track of two advancing close to her. One kept on towards me, offering no decent chance at her brain, so I gave her a bullet in a non-vital place to turn her. With a shriek she stopped, slewed half round and backed a few steps. Then round came her head again facing towards me. I was on the point of making an end of her when a mass of advancing heads, trunks and ears appeared on both sides of her. From that moment onwards I can give no coherent description of what followed, because the images appeared, disappeared and changed with such rapidity as to leave no permanent impressions. In time the space was clear of living elephant. So far as that goes, it was my victory; but as for clearing that patch of forest—No. That was their victory. I had merely taught them not to use the clear space as their citadel.

LOOKING INTO THE BRILLIANTLY LIT OPEN SPACE FROM THE TWILIGHT OF THE FOREST.

Passing on, and climbing all the time, we reached a truly wonderful country. High, cool and with rolling hills. Running streams of clear cold water in every hollow, the sole bush a few forest trees lining their banks. In the wet season covered with high, strong grass, it was now burned off and the fresh young green stuff was just coming away. In the far distance could be seen from some of the higher places a dark line. It was the edge of “Darkest Africa,” the great primeval forest spreading for thousands of square miles. Out of that forest, and elsewhere, had come hundreds upon hundreds of elephants to feed upon the young green stuff. They stood around on that landscape as if made of wood and stuck there. Hunting there was too easy. Beyond a few reed buck there was no other game. Soon natives flocked to our camps, and at one time there must have been 3,000 of them. They were noisy and disturbed the game, no doubt, but when it came to moving our ivory they were indispensable. Without them we could not have budged.

At a camp close to the edge of the great forest I was sitting on a little hill one evening. Along one of the innumerable elephant paths I saw a small bull coming. Suliemani, my faithful servant and cook, had for years boasted of how he would kill elephant if he were given the chance. Here it was, and I should be able to see the fun. I came down to camp, called for Suliemani, gave him a rifle and thirty rounds, pointed out to him the direction of the elephant and sent him off. Then I re-climbed the hill from which I could see both Suliemani and the elephant. The bull, having, perhaps, caught a whiff of our camp, had turned, and was now leisurely making towards the forest. Soon Suliemani got his tracks and went racing along behind him. The elephant now entered some long dry grass which had escaped the fires, and this stuff evidently hid him from Suliemani’s view. At the same time it was not sufficiently high to prevent my seeing what happened through my glasses. In the high grass the elephant halted and Suliemani came slap into him. With two frightful starts Suliemani turned and fled in one direction, the elephant in the other. After half a hundred yards Suliemani pulled himself together and once more took up the trail, disappearing into the forest. Soon shot after shot was heard. There was no lack of friends in camp to carefully count the number poor Suliemani fired. When twenty-seven had been heard there was silence for a long time. Darkness fell, everyone supped. Then came Suliemani stalking empty-handed into camp. A successful hunter always cuts off the tail and brings it home. Suliemani had failed after all his blowing. The camp was filled with jeers and jibes. Not a word from Suliemani as he prepared to eat his supper. Having eaten it in silence, the whole time being ragged to death by all his mates, he quietly stepped across the camp, disappeared a moment into the darkness, and reappeared with the elephant’s tail. He had killed it after all! There was a shout of laughter, but all Suliemani said was, “Of course.”

SULIEMANI BUMPS INTO HIS BULL.