“I am sure I don’t know, nor do I care,” he replied, a little sulkily.
“Then I will tell you, if only to put a word in for the poor animal. He says: ‘It is little better than killing cats; nor are there so many risks attending it as in foxhunting. The sportsmen—and there are generally twenty of them, with twice that number of elephants, encaged in the howdahs, each having half a dozen loaded double-barreled rifles, charged as fast by servants as they can be fired—are perched in the same security as if in a tree, deer-shooting. A mahout sometimes gets a scratch, but it is the noble elephant that bears the brunt of the battle, and everything depends on his sagacity, courage, and steadiness. If the elephant won’t stand, becomes frightened, and goes off, then, indeed, the sportsman’s life is in some jeopardy; but this seldom happens, and even then the number and arms of the party are out of all proportion to the strength of a tiger or two.’”
“Oh! bother, Claud, I wish you hadn’t such a good memory. But what has tiger-hunting in India to do with me—we are on the island of Bali?”
“Well, my position is even more strengthened by the practice in Java,” said I, which Martin knew; but as my readers may not, I will tell them how the Javanese hunt the tiger, that they may judge what chance the poor beast has in the contest:—
A vast circle of spearmen is formed around the known haunt of a tiger, which is gradually contracted, until the animal, hemmed in on all sides, is compelled to attempt an escape by rushing through the phalanx. In this endeavor he is commonly killed, through the number and dexterity of the hunters, and the formidable length of their weapons. “Among a great many exhibitions of this sort,” says an old resident in Java, “to which I have been witness, I never knew an instance in which the tiger was not destroyed without the least difficulty.”
The same writer gives us another proof of the disadvantage at which the tiger is taken:—“Among the Javanese, the most interesting animal-fight is that between the tiger and the buffalo. The buffalo of the Indian islands is an animal of great size and strength, and of no contemptible courage; for he is an overmatch for the royal tiger, hardly ever failing to come off victorious in the fight with him. It must be confessed that there is no small satisfaction in seeing this peaceful and docile animal destroy his ferocious and savage enemy. Neither is possessed of much active courage; the tiger, indeed, is a coward, and fights only perfidiously, or through necessity. On this account, it is necessary to confine them within very narrow limits, and, further, to goad them by various contrivances. A strong cage, of a circular form, about ten feet in diameter and fifteen feet high, partly covered at the top, is for this purpose constructed, by driving stakes into the ground, which are secured by being interwoven with bamboo: the buffalo is then introduced, and the tiger let in afterwards from an aperature. The first rencounter is usually tremendous: the buffalo is the assailant, and his attempt is to crush his antagonist to death against the strong walls of the cage, in which he frequently succeeds. The tiger, soon convinced of the superior strength of his antagonist, endeavors to avoid him, and when he cannot do so, springs insidiously upon his head and neck.
“In a combat of this nature which I witnessed, the buffalo, at the very first effort, broke his antagonist’s ribs against the cage, and he dropped down dead; the buffalo is not always so fortunate. I have seen a powerful tiger hold him down, thrown upon his knees, for many seconds; and, in a few instances, he is so torn with wounds that he must be withdrawn, and a fresh one introduced; in nineteen cases out of twenty, however, the buffalo is the victor. After the first onset, there is little satisfaction in the combat; for the animals, having experienced each other’s strength and ferocity, are reluctant to engage, and the practices used to goad them to a renewal of the fight are abominable. The tiger is roused by firebrands and boiling water, and the buffalo by pouring upon his hide a potent infusion of capsicum, and by the application of a most poisonous nettle (lamadu), a single touch of which would throw the strongest human frame into a fever.”
But I am digressing.
Now, although, as I have intimated, I had some suspicion that the young chief had no honest intentions toward us, I had no other reason than a certain forced courtesy and kindness of manner, which seemed unnatural, or at least out of place, in a nature so wild and ferocious. Yes, there was one other—viz., a certain cunning expression about his eyes and upon his lips, that I did not like. My suspicion, however, became confirmed, that at least there was something wrong somewhere, when I accompanied my brother and Prabu down to the prahu.
“How is this?” said Prabu to Kati, as we went on board—“lying at single anchor and the guns shotted! What do you fear?”