The Rifle And The Hound In Ceylon(Fiscle Part-3), Sir Samuel White Baker [most inspirational books .txt] 📗

Jungles Is The Obscurity

Occasioned By The Smoke Of The First Barrel; This Cannot Escape From The

Surrounding Bushes For Some Time,  And Effectually Prevents A Certain Aim

With The Remaining Barrel. In Wet Weather This Is Much Increased.

 

For My Own Part I Dislike Shooting In Thick Jungles,  And I Very Seldom

Do So. It Is Extremely Dangerous,  And Is Like Shooting In The Dark; You

Never See The Game Until You Can Almost Touch It,  And The Labour And

Pain Of Following Up Elephants Through Thorny Jungle Is Beyond

Description.

 

On Our Return To The Post-Holder's Hut We Dined And Prepared For Sleep.

It Was A Calm Night,  And Not A Sound Disturbed The Stillness Of The Air.

The Tired Coolies And Servants Were Fast Asleep,  The Lamp Burnt Dimly,

Being Scantily Fed With Oil,  And We Were In The Act Of Lying Down To

Rest When A Frightful Scream Made Us Spring To Our Feet. There Was

Something So Unearthly In The Yell That We Could Hardly Believe It

Human. The Next Moment A Figure Bounded Into The Little Room That We

Occupied. It Was A Black,  Stark Naked. His Tongue,  Half Bitten Through,

Protruded From His Mouth; His Bloodshot Eyes,  With A Ghastly Stare,  Were

Straining From Their Sockets,  And He Stood Gazing At Us With His Arms

Extended Wide Apart. Another Horrible Scream Burst From Him,  And He Fell

Flat Upon His Back.

 

The Post-Holder And A Whole Crowd Of Awakened Coolies Now Assembled,  And

They All At Once Declared That The Man Had A Devil. The Fact Is,  He Had

A Fit Of Epilepsy,  And His Convulsions Were Terrible. Without Moving A

Limb He Flapped Here And There Like A Salmon When Just Landed. I Had

Nothing With Me That Would Relieve Him,  And I Therefore Left Him To The

Hands Of The Post-Holder,  Who Prided Himself Upon His Skill In

Exorcising Devils. All His Incantations Produced No Effect,  And The

Unfortunate Patient Suddenly Sprang To His Feet And Rushed Madly Into

The Thorny Jungle. In This We Heard Him Crashing Through Like A Wild

Beast,  And I Do Not Know To This Day Whether He Was Ever Heard Of

Afterwards.

 

The Cingalese Have A Thorough Belief In The Presence Of Devils; One Sect

Are Actually `Devil-Worshippers,' But The Greater Portion Of The Natives

Are Bhuddists. Among This Nation The Missionaries Make Very Slow

Progress. There Is No Character To Work Upon In The Cingalese: They Are

Faithless,  Cunning,  Treacherous,  And Abject Cowards; Superstitious In

The Extreme,  And Yet Unbelieving In Any One God. A Converted Bhuddist

Will Address His Prayers To Our God If He Thinks He Can Obtain Any

Temporal Benefit By So Doing,  But,  If Not,  He Would Be Just As Likely To

Pray To Bhudda Or To The Devil.

 

I Once Saw A Sample Of Heathen Conversion In Ceylon That Was Enough To

Dishearten A Missionary.

 

A Roman Catholic Chapel Had Been Erected In A Wild Part Of The Country

By Some Zealous Missionary,  Who Prided Himself Upon The Number Of His

Converts. He Left His Chapel During A Few Weeks' Absence In Some Other

District,  During Which Time His Converts Paid Their Devotion To The

Christian Altar. They Had Made A Few Little Additions To The Ornaments

Of The Altar,  Which Must Have Astonished The Priest On His Return.

 

There Was An Image Of Our Saviour And The **Virgin:** That Was All

According To Custom. But There Were Also 'Three Images Of Bhudda,' A

Coloured Plaster-Of-Paris Image Of The Queen And Prince Albert Upon The

Part 3 Chapter 4 Pg 32

Altar,  And A Very Questionable Penny Print In Vivid Colours Hanging Over

The Altar,  Entitled The 'Stolen Kiss.' So Much For The Conversion Of The

Heathen In Ceylon. The Attempt Should Only Be Made In The Schools,  Where

The Children May Be Brought Up As Christians,  But The Idea Of Converting

The Grown-Up Heathen Is A Fallacy.

 

 

Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 33

The Four-Ounce Again--Tidings Of A Rogue--Approaching A Tank Rogue --An

Exciting Moment--Ruins Of Pollanarua--Ancient Ruins--Rogues At

Doolana--B. Charged By A Rogue--Planning An Attack--A Check--Narrow

Escape--Rogue-Stalking--A Bad Rogue--Dangers Of Elephant-Shooting--The

Rhatamahatmeya's Tale.

 

A Broken Nipple In My Long Two-Ounce Rifle Took Me To Trincomalee,  About

Seventy Miles Out Of My Proposed Route. Here I Had It Punched Out And

Replaced With A New One,  Which I Fortunately Had With Me. No One Who Has

Not Experienced The Loss Can Imagine The Disgust Occasioned By An

Accident To A Favourite Rifle In A Wild Country. A Spare Nipple And

Mainspring For Each Barrel And Lock Should Always Be Taken On A Shooting

Trip.

 

In Passing By Kandelly,  On My Return From Trincomalee,  I Paid A Second

Visit To The Lake. This Is Very Similar To That Of Minneria; But The

Shooting At That Time Was Destroyed From The Same Cause Which Has Since

Ruined Minneria--'Too Many Guns.' The Buffaloes Were Not Worthy Of The

Name; I Could Not Make One Show Fight,  Nor Could I Even Get Within Three

Hundred Yards Of Them. I Returned From The Plain With Disgust; But Just

As I Was Quitting The Shores Of The Lake I Noticed Three Buffaloes In

The Shallows About Knee-Deep In The Water,  Nearly Half A Mile From Me.

They Did Not Look Bigger Than Dogs,  The Distance Was So Great.

 

There Is Nothing Like A Sheet Of Water For Trying A Rifle; The Splash Of

The Ball Shows With Such Distinctness The Accuracy Or The Defect In The

Shooting. It Was Necessary That I Should Fire My Guns Off In Order To

Clean Them That Evening: I Therefore Tried Their Power At This Immense

Distance.

 

The Long Two-Ounce Fell Short,  But In A Good Line.  I Took A Rest Upon A

Man's Shoulder With The Four-Ounce Rifle,  And,  Putting Up The Last

Sight,  I Aimed At The Leading Buffalo,  Who Was Walking Through The Water

Parallel With Us. I Aimed At The Outline Of The Throat,  To Allow For His

Pace At This Great Distance. The Recoil Of The Rifle Cut The Man's Ear

Open,  As There Were Sixteen Drachms Of Powder In This Charge.

 

We Watched The Smooth Surface Of The Water As The Invisible Messenger

Whistled Over The Lake. Certainly Three Seconds Elapsed Before We Saw

Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 34

The Slightest Effect. At The Expiration Of That Time The Buffalo Fell

Suddenly In A Sitting Position,  And There He Remained Fixed,  Many

Seconds After,  A Dull Sound Returned To Our Ears; It Was The 'Fut' Of

The Ball,  Which Had Positively Struck Him At This Immense Range. What

The Distance Was I Cannot Say; It May Have Been 600 Yards,  Or 800,  Or

More. It Was Shallow Water The Whole Way: We Therefore Mounted Our

Horses And Rode Up To Him. Upon Reaching Him,  I Gave Him A Settling Ball

In The Head,  And We Examined Him. The Heavy Ball Had Passed Completely

Through His Hips,  Crushing Both Joints,  And,  Of Course,  Rendering Him

Powerless At Once.

 

The Shore Appeared Full Half A Mile From Us On Our Return,  And I Could

Hardly Credit My Own Eyes,  The Distance Was So Immense,  And Yet The Ball

Had Passed Clean Through The Animal's Body.

 

It Was Of Course A Chance Shot,  And,  Even With This Acknowledgment,  It

Must Appear Rather Like The 'Marvellous' To A Stranger;--This Is My

Misfortune,  Not My Fault. I Certainly Never Made Such A Shot Before Or

Since; It Was A Sheer Lucky Hit,  Say At 600 Yards; And The Wonderful

Power Of The Rifle Was Thus Displayed In The Ball Perforating The Large

Body Of The Buffalo At This Range. This Shot Was Made With A Round Ball,

Not A Cone. The Round Belted Ball For This Heavy Two-Grooved Rifle

Weighs Three Ounces. The Conical Ball Weighs A Little More Than Four

Ounces.

 

While Describing The Long Shots Performed By This Particular Rifle,  I

Cannot Help Recounting A Curious Chance With A Large Rogue Elephant In

Topari Tank. This Tank Or Lake Is,  Like Most Others In Ceylon,  The

Result Of Vast Labour In Past Ages. Valleys Were Closed In By Immense

Dams Of Solid Masonry,  Which,  Checking The Course Of The Rivers,  Formed

Lakes Of Many Miles In Extent. These Were Used As Reservoirs For The

Water Required For The Irrigation Of Rice Lands. The Population Who

Effected These Extensive Works Have Long Since Passed Away; Their Fate

Is Involved In Mystery. The Records Of Their Ancient Cities Still Exist,

But We Have No Account Of Their Destruction. The Ruins Of One Of These

Cities,  Pollanarua,  Are Within Half A Mile Of The Village Of Topari,  And

The Waters Of The Adjacent Lake Are Still Confined By A Dam Of Two Miles

In Length,  Composed Of Solid Masonry. When The Lake Is Full,  It Is About

Eight Miles In Circumference.

 

I Had Only Just Arrived At The Village,  And My Horse-Keeper Had Taken

The Horse To Drink At The Lake,  When He Suddenly Came Running Back To

Say That A Rogue Elephant Was Bathing Himself On The Opposite Shore,  At

About Two Miles' Distance.

 

I Immediately Took My Guns And Went After Him.  My Path Lay Along The

Top Of The Great Dam,  Which Formed A Causeway Covered With Jungle. This

Causeway Was About Sixty Feet In Breadth And Two Miles In Length; The

Lake Washed Its Base About Twenty Feet Below The Summit. The Opposite

Shore Was A Fine Plain,  Bordered By Open Forest,  And The Lake Spread

Into The Grassy Surface In Wide And Irregular Bays.

 

I Continued My Course Along The Causeway At A Fast Walk,  And On Arriving

At The Extremity Of The Lake,  I Noticed That The Ancient Dam Continued

For A Much Greater Distance. This,  Together With The Great Height Of The

Masonry From The Level Of The Water,  Proved That The Dimensions Of The

Tank Had Formerly Been Of Much Greater Extent.

 

Descending By The Rugged Stones Which Formed The Dam Wall I Reached The

Plain,  And,  Keeping Close To The Water's Edge,  I Rounded A Large Neck Of

Land Covered With Trees,  Which Projected For Some Distance Into The

Lake. I Knew,  By The Position Of The Elephant,  When I First Saw Him,

That He Was Not Far Beyond This Promontory,  And I Carefully Advanced

Through The Open Forest,  Hoping That I Might Meet Him There On His Exit

From His Bath. In This I Was Mistaken,  For On Passing Through This

Little Belt Of Trees I Saw The Elephant Still In The Lake,  Belly-Deep,

About 300 Paces From Me. He Was Full 120 Yards From