The Young Rajah

by William Henry Giles Kingston

On looking in the direction in which the man pointed, he caught sight, not of a tiger, but of a huge panther, and a native about a hundred yards before him rushing at headlong speed, bounding and springing towards the river, while the panther with rapid leaps pursued its hoped-for prey. Reginald ordered the men to paddle in towards the shore, in the hope of rescuing the panting wretch from the jaws of the panther. Just before they reached the bank, the native bounded into the water, which rose up to his neck; but he was apparently too exhausted to swim towards the canoe, though with imploring accents he entreated the sahib to come to his rescue.

At that instant the dark snout of an enormous crocodile rose above the surface—the saurian, to Reginald’s horror, making its way towards the struggling native.

“Crocodile! Crocodile!” shouted Reginald to the native; who, hearing him, after a moment’s hesitation rushed back towards the bank, thus again facing the panther. The creature for a moment appeared disconcerted at the sudden movement of its expected victim and the approach of the canoe, towards which the man made a desperate spring; but the savage panther, eager for its prey, at the same moment leaped forward and seized the unhappy man by the leg, while Reginald grasped his arm. At that instant the crocodile, which had retreated a short distance, dashed up, and catching the miserable being—who gave vent to the most fearful shrieks—by the other leg, with one snap of its jaws bit it off.

In vain Reginald shouted to the crew to attack the creatures with their oars. The cowardly wretches, instead of moving, shrank down at the further end of the canoe; while the panther, peeling off the flesh of the leg, reached at length the ankle, where with a horrid crunch it severed the bone, and galloped away with the fearful mouthful.

Reginald drew the poor man—now quite senseless—into the canoe, and endeavoured to stanch the blood flowing from his wounds by tourniquets, formed of pieces of wood, round the upper parts of his legs; but his efforts were in vain, and before the canoe reached the budgerow the man was dead.

Continuing their course up the Ganges, visiting on their way several of the numerous towns, temples, and ruins of various sorts which adorn its banks, they at length landed, and continued their route by land. They were now in a woody district, bordering the banks of a river, when Captain Burnett’s “shikaree wallah,” or huntsman, informed them that it abounded in tigers, and that if they wished to kill a few they would have an opportunity of doing so. Although Reginald would gladly have pushed on, he sacrificed his own wishes for the sake of allowing his friend to enjoy a few days’ sport.

Burnett had a friend (Major Sandford) living at a village not far off, who, hearing of their arrival, invited them to take up their abode at his bungalow. He confirmed the report of the abundance of tigers, which the superstitious Hindoos took no pains to destroy; observing—

“They believe that the souls of men pass after their death into the bodies of animals, and that it must be the soul of some great personage alone which is allowed to inhabit the ferocious tiger. They therefore allow the creatures to range about as they please; and when any poor fellow is seized by one of the brutes—as is frequently the case—he will humbly beg the tiger sahib to set him free, or to finish him mercifully. The natives, however, have no objection to my killing any of their lordships; and we will this evening go to a fort on the banks of the Ganges near which they are wont to pass on their way to drink at the river. We will carry provisions and liquor, so that we may pass our time agreeably till one of the brutes appears.”

The party accordingly, accompanied by several natives of rank, with their servants, set out, and were not long in reaching their destination. The top of the fort offered a safe spot whence any number of wild beasts could be shot down without the slightest risk to the sportsmen of being attacked in return. A table and chairs were placed on the roof of the fort, and the English gentlemen and Hindoos sat in the cool of the evening quaffing their claret and conversing on various topics, with their rifles ready loaded placed against the parapet, while a lookout kept watch for the approach of a tiger, panther, or any other denizen of the forest.

“Few men have more narrowly escaped becoming tiger’s meat than I have,” said Major Sandford. “I carry some ugly marks about me to bear witness to the fact; besides having the slight ‘halt’ in my walk which you may have observed. I was, some eight years ago, out shooting with several companions, and being somewhat tired, I sat down on the side of the bank, having left my gun a few feet from me. The rest of the party had gone to a little distance, when, suddenly looking up, I saw a huge tiger spring out of the jungle, and before I had time to reach my gun the brute had seized me by the leg,—which I thought, by the fearful way he held it, he would have bitten off. The rest of the party, seeing my fearful condition, began to shout at the top of their voices, hoping to drive off the beast. They were afraid to fire, for fear of killing me. But the tiger was not to be disappointed of his expected dinner; so, throwing me over his back with one jerk, off he trotted. I did not, however, lose my presence of mind; but recollecting that I had a brace of pistols in my belt, I drew one and pulled the trigger. To my horror, it missed fire! I had still another. I managed to get hold of it, well knowing that if that missed my fate was sealed. Pointing the muzzle at the brute’s head, I fired. The tiger gave a leap, and opening its mouth, let me drop, while it fell down dead by my side. I scrambled away as fast as I could, scarcely believing that I was safe, till my friends coming up assured me of the fact, and congratulated me on my merciful escape.”