Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4) Page 11

  “My bearer quickly shouted, “Careful, sahib! There’s a bagh in there.”

  ““Stay close,” I replied, “and we’ll take them both.”

  “He nodded in agreement.

  “I headed in among the kalam, finger on the trigger of my carbine, and after a few paces I found myself standing before three tigers!”

  “You’re making my blood run cold,” said Yanez. “That must have been a terrible moment!”

  “Continue, Tremal-Naik,” said Sandokan. “It’s an amazing story.”

  “Those wretched beasts had killed the poor nilgo and had already begun to feed. At the sight of me, they drew back and prepared to lunge at me. Without thought of the danger I was in, I fired at the closest, shattered its spine then quickly took a few steps back to avoid an attack from the other two.

  “My rifle,” I shouted to my shikari, reaching my hand back, my eyes still trained on the beasts.

  “No one replied. My bearer had disappeared. Scared off by the sudden appearance of those three tigers, he had fled, taking my rifle with him, and leaving me alone and unarmed before those terrible man-eaters!

  “You can imagine how I felt, standing there defenceless, just moments away from death.”

  “What did the tigers do?” Yanez, Sandokan and Surama asked anxiously.

  “They stood there, just twenty paces from me, their eyes fixed upon me, not daring to move. A minute dragged by, then suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. I aimed my empty carbine and pulled the trigger. The two beasts turned about, jumped in among the bamboo and disappeared into the jungle.”

  “Now that’s what I call luck,” said Sandokan, “and great courage as well.”

  “Yes,” laughed Tremal-Naik, “however, I spent the next day in bed with a forty degree fever.”

  “But with your skin still intact,” said Yanez. “Well worth the price of a good fever, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Absolutely.”

  While they had been listening to the Bengali’s tale, the two elephants had continued to make their way into the jungle, opening a path through the bamboo and kalam.

  The birds had awakened and were flitting about the plants, unconcerned it seemed, by the presence of the two colossuses and the hunters in the howdahs.

  Bands of crows, kites, long-beaked storks, peacocks, white doves and buzzards, flew up from almost beneath the elephants’ feet, circled above the howdah for several minutes then returned to their shelters among the vegetation.

  From time to time a giant arghilah, awakened by the noise, would unfold its large wings, rise up on its long slender legs and peer out from among the reeds, shrilling in protest. Then almost as quickly as it appeared, it would slump back to its nest, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

  They had entered a swamp and the elephants slowed as they made their way through the mud. These were the best hunting grounds, for unlike cats, tigers love damp places close to water.

  They had been advancing for about a half hour when the Molanghi said, “Sahib, this is the bagh’s home. Keep your eyes open: it could appear at any moment.”

  “Load your carbines, my friends,” said Tremal-Naik. “Punthy is already on the old scoundrel’s trail. Hear that?”

  The Bengali’s dog was barking excitedly. He had already caught the man-eater’s scent.

  Chapter 14

  The First Tiger

  AT THEIR MAHOUTS’ command, the two elephants slowed to a walk. They too must have felt the dangerous beast’s proximity for they had suddenly become extremely cautious, especially the koomareah, the lead elephant carrying Sandokan and his companions. The shorter of the two beasts, it could have been ambushed at any moment. As it advanced, it carefully swept back the reeds before it, pulling in its trunk every few steps.

  Standing in the howdah, carbines levelled, Sandokan and his companions scanned the reeds for the bagh, but without much luck. The vegetation was tall and thick and kept their prey well hidden.

  However, there was no doubt it had passed that way, for the stench of wild feline still hung in the air. Warned of their approach by Punthy’s barks, it had prudently disappeared into the tall grass.

  “Where do you think it’s hiding?” asked Sandokan, fingering the trigger of his carbine. “Do you think it’s afraid to show itself?”

  “It may have realized it was outnumbered and decided to go back to its den.”

  “So we’ve lost it?”

  “There’s no need to worry. Now that Punthy has its scent, he’s sure to track it down.”

  “What about Darma?” asked Yanez. “I can’t see her anymore.”

  “She’s following, don’t worry, just keeping her distance. Elephants and tigers have little love for each other.”

  “Punthy’s found it!” said Sandokan, as the furious sound of barking erupted from a grove of thorny bamboo.

  “Has he attacked it?” shouted Yanez.

  “He’s brave but not foolish,” replied Tremal-Naik. “He knows he’s no match for the bagh’s iron claws.”

  The Molanghi, who had been standing behind the howdah, one hand clutching the back of the box, turned to Tremal-Naik and said, “Come, sahib.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “Yes, it’s hiding among the kalam. Look over there. See? The grass is moving. The bagh is crawling away, trying to sneak off undetected.”

  “Mahout!” shouted the Bengali. “Drive the elephants forward, we’re ready to fire.”

  At the conductor’s whistle, the koomareah lengthened its stride and advanced towards the barks emanating from the tall grass.

  The merghee carrying the six Malays followed.

  They could no longer smell the beast’s wild scent, but the koomareah, a veteran of those perilous hunts, seemed to detect its presence.

  The colossus appeared uneasy, puffing loudly and shaking its’ head with every step forward, at times trembling so strongly it jostled the howdah’s occupants.

  Though endowed with great strength, elephants have a great fear of tigers, and at times they can refuse to advance regardless of their mahout’s commands.

  The koomareah carrying the three captains was a veteran of numerous hunting expeditions and had trampled more than one tiger beneath its mighty legs, but still its courage was beginning to waver.

  Even the merghee following a few metres back would hesitate every few steps until a blow from the ankus forced it to advance. Suddenly the Molanghi, who had gone to the front of the elephant and was leaning against the mahout’s shoulders, cried out: “Over there!”

  Two pelts of black and gold had flashed above the tall grass, less than fifty paces from them, vanishing in an instant.

  “There are two of them!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “The man-eater has a mate and they’re much larger than I expected. Don’t fire unless you’re sure of your mark.”

  “The hunt becomes more interesting,” said Sandokan. “They’ve caught a glimpse of us and are pondering their next move.”

  Yanez looked at Surama. They young devadasi had not uttered a word but though she appeared calm, her face had gone extremely pale.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

  “No, not as long as I’m with the white sahib,” replied the young woman.

  “Excellent. There’s no need to fear, we’re old hands at this; we’ve never let a tiger get away.”

  The two beasts had hidden among the reeds and kalams and it appeared they had decided against attacking and run off, at least for the moment, for Punthy’s barks sounded as if he were moving further and further from the elephant.

  “After them!” Tremal-Naik shouted to the mahout.

  The koomareah’s resolve seemed to have returned, for it immediately quickened its pace. It did not, however, feel completely at ease, judging by the way it trembled and the loud trumpeting that filled the air from time to time.

  Tremal-Naik and his companions leaned over the howdah’s sides, carbines levelled, eyes trained on the tall grass, attempting to spot
their prey.

  Barks suddenly erupted a few paces to the right of them.

  The Molanghi cried out: “Look out, sahib! The baghs are coming. They circled round in front of us!”

  The koomareah stopped and quickly rolled in its trunk, drawing it safely between its two tusks. Legs rooted to the ground, it leaned back and trumpeted deafeningly to warn the hunters of the approaching danger.

  Within seconds an enormous tiger leaped through the kalam and landed on the elephant’s head. A sharp claw came swiping at the mahout, but the clever conductor had been faster and immediately jumped back out of reach.

  Sandokan, who was the closest, quickly fired his carbine and shattered its paw.

  Despite its wound, the terrible beast did not fall. It ducked and swerved to avoid a pair of rifle blasts fired by Yanez and Tremal-Naik, drew back and growled, then leaped over the hunters’ heads and landed on the ground behind the elephant.

  The Malays on the merghee, seeing it land among the grass, had immediately fired their carbines, but the bagh had been quicker, disappearing into the bamboo before the bullets could find their mark. The reeds rustled and shook for a few minutes then all fell still.

  “It’s escaped!” shouted Sandokan, quickly reloading his rifle.

  “I think it’s preparing another attack,” said Tremal-Naik. “I’m sure it’s crawling towards us.”

  “It’s a strong one!” exclaimed Yanez. “I thought it was going to land on our heads. I could already feel its claws digging into my scalp.”

  “Shoot at its chest next time,” said Tremal-Naik.

  “It’s hard to aim when you’re on an elephant,” said Sandokan. “The way the howdah was shaking, I don’t know how I managed to hit it.”

  “The koomareah had the jitters,” said Yanez. “But it’s not like my hands were rock steady. No matter how brave you are, it’s easy to lose your nerve before those beasts.”

  “It’s the claws,” replied Sandokan. “It’s easy to imagine them tearing you to pieces.”

  “Careful, sahib!” shouted the Molanghi. “The koomareah can sense the tiger approaching.”

  The elephant had become extremely nervous. Snorting and trembling, it quickly turned about, planted its legs, lowered its head and drew its trunk in between its tusks.

  Less than ten seconds later, Sandokan and his companions spotted the tiger. It was crawling, almost slithering forward through the reeds, its stomach nearly touching the ground, trying to approach the elephant unseen and pounce upon the hunters.

  “See it?” Tremal-Naik asked Sandokan.

  “Yes.”

  “What about you, Yanez?”

  “I’m taking aim,” replied the Portuguese.

  Several carbine shots thundered from the rear elephant’s howdah.

  The Malays had fired but in another direction.

  “The other tiger’s attacking the merghee!” shouted Tremal-Naik. “Don’t let it distract you. They’ll take care of it! Keep your eyes on the reeds. There it is!”

  The first tiger had suddenly appeared in a small clearing.

  It stopped for a moment, whipped its tail from side to side, then leaped back among the reeds, emerging seconds later just paces from the koomareah.

  The mahout cried out, “Now!”

  Head lowered, the elephant charged forward, determined to drive its tusks into its foe, the tiger, however, swiftly lunged to one side then went on the attack.

  It roared menacingly and leaped onto the pachyderm’s head, but with its paw shattered, it immediately lost its grip and fell back to the ground.

  The koomareah slammed its foot onto the beast’s tail, drove its tusk into its chest and lifted it into the air.

  Furious, the tiger roared frighteningly and tried to slash at the colossus’ head.

  Though the howdah shook wildly, Sandokan and Yanez levelled their carbines and attempted to take aim.

  The mahout quickly signalled them to lower their weapons.

  “Let the koomareah take care of it!” he shouted.

  The elephant had unrolled its formidable trunk and wrapped it around the tiger’s body, squeezing its legs against its sides to prevent it from using its claws. It pulled the beast off its tusks, raised it in the air, crushed its ribs, shook it, and hurled it to the ground with such force the great cat fell unconscious. Before the tiger could come to, the koomareah raised its enormous foot and brought it down upon the feline’s chest.

  The hunters heard the crack of bones, then a powerful trumpeting that announced the battle had come to an end.

  “Well done!” exclaimed Sandokan.

  “Let’s climb down and take a closer look!” added Yanez.

  “No one move!” commanded Tremal-Naik. “The other one’s still nearby! Be careful!”

  The second tiger, having avoided the Malays’ rifle blasts, was bounding through the reeds with amazing agility, advancing towards them five or six metres at a time. Rushing to aid its mate, it lunged at the koomareah and grabbed the howdah’s saddlecloth, just three paces from the poor Molanghi.

  “Fire!” shouted Tremal-Naik.

  Three rifle blasts thundered simultaneously, then a fourth, fired by Surama.

  The bagh fell, streaking the koomareah’s saddlecloth with blood.

  It crawled into the grass and lay down, stretching out as if attempting to hide its wounds from its enemies.

  Having reloaded their carbines, Sandokan and Tremal-Naik fired once again.

  A roar filled the air. Slowly, painfully, the tiger rose to its feet and tried to retreat into the grass, bearing its teeth and growling like a mastiff, but after it had gone a few steps its strength suddenly gave way and it fell heavily to the ground.

  “It’s all yours, Yanez,” said Tremal-Naik. “Put it out of its misery!”

  The feline was no more than thirty paces from them, its eyes still fixed on the elephant.

  While the mahout steadied the koomareah, the Portuguese took aim and fired.

  The bagh reared up, opened its jaws and fell to the ground dead. The bullet had smashed in its shoulder and pierced its heart.

  “Excellent shot, my friend!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “Mahout, throw down the ladder, we’re going to skin that beast.”

  They reloaded their carbines as a precaution, in case another tiger was lurking nearby, then climbed down and went in among the kalam.

  The first tiger had been reduced to little more than ground meat and bone, having been trammelled beneath the koomareah’s powerful feet, its pelt damaged and torn beyond repair.

  The second pelt had fared much better. Aside from the fatal wound in its shoulder, it had been struck once in the back and once on its right side. It was one of the most superb tigers the hunters had ever seen.

  “A true Royal Bengal tiger,” said Tremal-Naik. “I don’t think you’ll find its equal in the jungles of Borneo.”

  “You’re right,” replied Sandokan. “I’ve never seen one this beautiful. Ours are a little smaller, wouldn’t you say, Yanez?”

  “Smaller, but no less courageous, nor any less ferocious,” said the Portuguese as he examined the gash in the tiger’s shoulder.

  “Not a bad start to our expedition,” said Sandokan, looking about. “We can set up camp here. That small clearing should do quite nicely. We’ll advance slowly towards the Sundarbans, letting our reputation as hunters precede us, so as not to arouse the Thugs’ suspicions.”

  “That won’t be difficult. By tomorrow word will have spread to every village in the jungle that we’ve come to hunt tigers,” said Tremal-Naik. “Our Molanghi guide is sure to spin tall tales about us.”

  “We’re sending him off?”

  “We no longer have need of him and I’d prefer not to keep outsiders about, we may say something inadvertently that could give away our plans. Information travels quickly in these jungles, the Thugs have spies in every village, always on the lookout for their enemies.”

  While the Malays raised the tents and unloaded
the supplies, the mahouts began to prepare breakfast for the elephants. They gathered a large amount of banyan leaves and thick marsh grass, then added ten kilograms of cornbread, a half pound of ghee and a half pound of sugar.

  Once Surama and the men had eaten, two men were sent to patrol the outskirts of the jungle while the hunting party stretched out beneath the tents. The sun had risen, pouring torrents of fire upon that sea of vegetation, quickly drying the ponds and mud puddles that had formed during the night.

  Chapter 15

  In the Sundarbans

  AFTER A SHORT rest the two elephants resumed their march, heading south towards the uninhabited jungles of the Sundarbans.

  The region they were now crossing was sparsely populated by poor families of Molanghis. From time to time, they spotted a group of mud huts standing among the reeds and kalam, defended by tall palisades to protect the inhabitants, their cows, and buffaloes from the attacks of wild beasts.

  Small rice paddies extended from those walls, dotted by a few groves of banana, coconut and mango trees.

  Past those villages, the jungle quickly reclaimed the land; the reeds grew thicker and ponds began to appear in great multitude, their muddy waters filled with rotting vines and mangroves.

  Myriads of birds rose from the riverbanks at the sight of the two giant elephants, the hunters greeting them with rifle blasts that never missed their mark. Clouds of giant herons, black storks, brown ibises, Brahmin ducks, purple coots and cormorants fled to the skies, their breakfast still squirming in their beaks.

  Several axis[19] raced off among the reeds; nilgos disappeared with the speed of an arrow as wild dogs and jackals howled their displeasure. A few cheetahs peered from the bushes from time to time, diving for cover at the sight of those great beasts.

  “This is a hunter’s paradise!” exclaimed Sandokan, greatly impressed by the sight of all that wildlife. “If we weren’t here to battle the Thugs, I’d gladly spend a few weeks in these jungles hunting tigers, buffaloes, and rhinos.”