Elephant God

Gordon Casserly

Description

This thrilling action-adventure novel is set in colonial India. At the center of the story is the fearsome creature Badshah, whose reign of terror drives the plot. A one-tusked behemoth of massive size, Badshah is revered as a deity by the locals. Officer Kevin Dermot attempts to protect his charges from the rampaging beast.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776591213
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE ELEPHANT GOD
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GORDON CASSERLY
 
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The Elephant God First published in 1921 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-121-3 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-122-0 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Foreword to American Edition Chapter I - The Secret Mission Chapter II - A Rogue Elephant Chapter III - A Girl of the Terai Chapter IV - The Madness of Badshah Chapter V - The Death-Place Chapter VI - A Dramatic Introduction Chapter VII - In the Rajah's Palace Chapter VIII - A Bhuttia Raid Chapter IX - The Rescue of Noreen Chapter X - A Strange Home-Coming Chapter XI - The Making of a God Chapter XII - The Lure of the Hills Chapter XIII - The Pleasure Colony Chapter XIV - The Tangled Skein of Love Chapter XV - The Feast of the Goddess Kali Chapter XVI - The Palace of Death Chapter XVII - A Trap Chapter XVIII - The Cat and the Tiger Chapter XIX - Tempest Chapter XX - The God of the Elephants
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TO A CERTAIN ROGUE ELEPHANT RESIDENT IN THE TERAI FOREST
THE SLAYER OF DIVERS MEN AND WOMEN
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF MUCHINSTRUCTION AND IN THE HOPE THAT SOME DAY IN THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDSTHEY MAY MEET AGAIN AND DECIDE THE ISSUE
Foreword to American Edition
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Twenty years ago I dedicated my first book, The Land of the Boxers; orChina Under the Allies , to the American officers and soldiers of theexpeditionary forces then fighting in the Celestial Empire—as well as totheir British comrades. And when, some years afterwards, I was visitingtheir country, right glad I was that I had thus offered my slight tributeto the valour of the United States Army. For from the Pacific to theAtlantic I met with a hospitality and a kindness that no other land couldexcel and few could equal. And ever since then, I have felt deep in debt toall Americans and have tried in many parts of our Empire to repay to thosewho serve under the Star Spangled Banner a little of what I owe to theirfellow-countrymen.
Only those who have experienced that sympathetic American kindness canrealise what it is. It is all that gives me courage to face the readingpublic as a writer of fiction and attempt to depict to it the fascinatingworld of an Indian jungle, the weird beasts that people it, and thestranger humans that battle with them in it. The magic pen of a Kiplingalone could do justice to that wonderful realm of mountain and forest thatis called the Terai—that fantastic region of woodland that stretches forhundreds of miles along the foot of the Himalayas, that harbours in its dimrecesses the monsters of the animal kingdom, quaint survivals of a vanishedrace—the rhinoceros, the elephant, the bison, and the hamadryad, thatgreat and terrible snake which can, and does, pursue and overtake a mountedman, and which with a touch of its poisoned fang can slay the most powerfulbrute. The huge Himalayan bear roams under the giant trees, feeding onfruit and honey, yet ready to shatter unprovoked the skull of a poorwoodcutter. Those savage striped and spotted cats, the tiger and thepanther, steal through it on velvet paw and take toll of its harmlessdenizens.
But, if I cannot describe it as I would, at least I have lived the life ofthe wild in the spacious realm of the Terai. I would that I had the powerto make others feel what I have felt, the thrill that comes when facing theonrush of the bloodthirstiest of all fierce brutes, a rogue elephant, orthe joy of seeing a charging tiger check and crumple up at the arrestingblow of a heavy bullet.
I have followed day after day from dawn to dark and fought again and againa fierce outlaw tusker elephant that from sheer lust of slaughter hadkilled men, women, and children and carried on for years a career of crimeunbelievable.
No one that knows the jungle well will refuse to credit the strangest storyof what wild animals will do. Of all the swarming herds of wild elephantsin the Terai, the Mysore, or the Ceylon jungles no man, white or black, hasever seen one that had died a natural death. Yet many have watched themclimbing up the great mountain rampart of the Himalayas towards regionswhere human foot never followed. The Death Place of the Elephants is alegend in which all jungle races firmly believe, but no man has ever foundit. The mammoths live a century and a half—but the time comes when each ofthem must die. Yet no human eye watches its death agony.
Those who know elephants best will most readily credit the strangest talesof their doings. And there are men—white men—whose power over wild beastsand wilder fellow men outstrips the novelist's imagination, the true taleof whose doings no resident in a civilised land would believe.
GORDON CASSERLY.
Chapter I - The Secret Mission
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"The letters, sahib," said the post orderly, blocking up the doorway of thebungalow.
Kevin Dermot put down his book as the speaker, a Punjaubi Mohammedan inwhite undress, slipped off his loose native shoes and entered the roombarefoot, as is the custom in India.
"For this one a receipt is needed," continued the sepoy, holding out a longofficial envelope registered and insured and addressed, like all theothers, to "The Officer Commanding, Ranga Duar, Eastern Bengal."
Major Dermot signed the receipt and handed it to the man. As he did so thescream of an elephant in pain came to his ears.
"What is that?" he asked the post orderly.
"It is the mahout , Chand Khan, beating his hathi (elephant), sahib,"replied the sepoy looking out.
Dermot threw the unopened letters on the table, and, going out on theverandah of his bungalow, gazed down on the parade ground which lay ahundred feet below. Beyond it at the foot of the small hill on which stoodthe Fort was a group of trees, to two of which a transport elephant wasshackled by a fore and a hind leg in such a way as to render it powerless.Its mahout , or driver, keeping out of reach of its trunk, was beating itsavagely on the head with a bamboo. Mad with rage, the man, a grey-beardedold Mohammedan, swung the long stick with both hands and brought it downagain and again with all his force. From the gateway of the Fort above the havildar , or native sergeant, of the guard shouted to the mahout todesist. But the angry man ignored him and continued to belabour hisunfortunate animal, which, at the risk of dislocating its leg, struggledwildly to free itself and screamed shrilly each time that the bamboo fell.This surprised Dermont, for an elephant's skull is so thick that a bloweven from the ankus or iron goad used to drive it, is scarcely felt.
The puzzled officer re-entered the bungalow and brought out a pair offield-glasses, which revealed the reason of the poor tethered brute'sscreams. For they showed that in the end of the bamboo were stuck long,sharp nails which pierced and tore the flesh of its head.
Major Dermot was not only a keen sportsman and a lover of animals, but hehad an especial liking for elephants, of which he had had much experience.So with a muttered oath he put down the binoculars and, seizing his helmet,ran down the steep slope from his bungalow to the parade ground. As he wenthe shouted to the mahout to stop. But the man was too engrossed in hisbrutality to hear him or the havildar , who repeated the Major's order. Itwas not until Dermot actually seized his arm and dragged him back that heperceived his commanding officer. Dropping the bamboo he strove to justifyhis ill-treatment of the elephant by alleging some petty act ofdisobedience on its part.
His excuses were cut short.
" Choop raho! (Be silent!) You are not fit to have charge of an animal,"cried the indignant officer, picking up and examining the cruel weapon. Thesharp points of the nails were stained with blood, and morsels of skin andflesh adhered to them. Dermot felt a strong inclination to thrash thebrutal mahout with the unarmed end of the bamboo, but, restraininghimself, he turned to the elephant. With the instinct of its kind it wasscraping a little pile of dust together with its toes, snuffing it up inits trunk and blowing it on the bleeding cuts on its lacerated head.
"You poor beast! You mustn't do that. We'll find something better for you,"said the Major compassionately.
He called across the parade ground to his white-clad Mussulman butler, whowas looking down at him from the bungalow.
"Bring that fruit off my table," he said in Hindustani. "Also the littlemedicine chest and a bowl of water."
When the servant had brought them Dermot approached the elephant.
" Khubbadar —(take care)—sahib!" cried a coolie, the mahout's assistant. "He is suffering and angry. He may do you harm."
But, while the rebuked mahout glared malevolently and inwardly hoped thatthe animal might kill him, Dermot walked calmly toward it, holding out hishand with the fruit. The elephant, regarding him nervously and suspiciouslyout of its little eyes, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and at firstshrank from him. But, as the officer stood quietly in front of it, itstretched out its trunk and smelled the extended hand. Then it touched thearm and felt it up to the shoulder, on which it let the tip of the trunkrest for a few seconds. At last it seemed satisfied that the white man wasa friend and did not intend to hurt it.
During the ordeal Dermot had never moved; although there was every reasonto fear that the animal, either from sheer nervousness or from resentmentat the ill-treatment that it had just received, might attack him andtr