Read Ebook: Trapping wild animals in Malay jungles by Mayer Charles

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Ebook has 509 lines and 56550 words, and 11 pages

I said that was true. I would leave New York on the third and catch the steamer leaving London on the fourth of July at Brindisi, at the tail end of Italy, as it was due there on the fourteenth.

I left New York on the steamer New York on the third, arrived in London on the tenth, stayed two days in London, traveled overland through France, Switzerland and Italy, and on the evening of the fourteenth walked up the gangplank of the P. & O. boat and the twenty-eighth day of July, after transhipping at Aden, stepped ashore in Bombay.

Well, there was no such elephant; nobody had ever heard of any that size, let alone seen one near it, either in Bombay or throughout India, and I went through India looking for it. The largest I ever saw belonged to the Maharajah of Mysore. He was, as nearly as I could judge, about twelve feet, but a bad one and old, always heavily chained, and out of the question for show purposes.

After I left Singapore, I had been thinking constantly of becoming a dealer in animals. The more I considered the idea, the more it appealed to me. I was becoming tired of circus life, especially since my work did not bring me into contact with the animals. On my return to New York I found Gaylord and told him about my plans. He encouraged me and introduced me to many men I was glad to know, such as Donald Burns, who was a dealer and had a store in Roosevelt Street.

At Donald Burns's place I talked my venture over with many showmen. They were all interested and wished to encourage me, but they were frankly doubtful of my success because they knew of old Mahommed Ariff's monopoly. Burns offered to help me dispose of the animals, but I was not elated at that prospect, for Burns did not attend very strictly to business. It was a well-known story in the circus world that he had neglected the opportunity of handling the first hippopotamus brought to this country. A sea captain had offered to sell it to him for ,000, but Burns refused to take it--he simply wasn't interested. A few days later it was sold to Barnum for ,000.

Strangely enough, it was Burns's easygoing way of managing his affairs that gave me my opportunity of going to Singapore. I had been in New York, making my plans and saving my money, but I didn't feel that I had enough to start out on the venture. One day I was in Burns's store when he was away, and a sailor came in, hiding two monkeys under his coat. He had smuggled them into the country and wanted to sell them. The monkeys were black with coal-dust, but one of them, I noticed, had pink eyes. That fact interested me and I bargained for them, buying the pair for fifteen dollars. When the sailor left, I found a cake of soap and gave them a bath. The monkey with the pink eyes turned out to be pure white. Those were the days when Jim Corbett was a great favorite, and he had recently become known as "Pompadour Jim." My white monkey had a perfect pompadour on his head. Soon one of the newspapers printed a story connecting Corbett and the monkey. A few days later I sold the monkey for ,500, and I then had enough money to start for Singapore.

It was in April, 1887, that I left New York on the steamer Glenderrie. I outfitted in London while we lay over there, taking cargo aboard, and, because I was none too sure what material I should need, I confined my outfit to clothes and guns. On the advice of several animal-men, I bought a Winchester 50-110 express rifle that fired explosive ballets. The bullets contained a detonator and enough dynamite to stop any animal in his tracks. My revolvers were a Colt .45 and a Smith and Wesson .38. The passage took seven weeks and during that time I became well acquainted with Captain Angus, who commanded the boat.

When I reached Singapore, I began at once to learn the Malay language, which is spoken with some variations of dialect throughout the Archipelago.

I called on Mahommed Ariff every day and learned as much as possible about the ways and means by which he carried on his business. Eventually I proposed to him that he let me act as his agent in interviewing the captains of some of the boats that called at the port. He agreed to my plan because there were many captains who would no longer do business with him--he had cheated them once too often--and he saw in me a means of resuming trade. We had no written agreement and no understanding as to my commission, but I was content to start work on that basis because it meant experience.

It was customary for the members of the crew of a boat to buy animals, splitting the risk between them, and sell them when they reached European or American ports. Soon after I had reached the agreement with Mahommed Ariff, a German boat came into port and I went out to interview the captain. I found that he had had previous dealings with the Malay and that he had sworn never to buy another animal from him. Finally, he agreed to make some purchases, but he took care to draw up a paper in which he said that he was buying on my representation.

I reported the deal to Mahommed Ariff, but when I went the next morning to deliver the animals, I found that he had sent them to the boat during the night and had collected the money for them. He refused to give me my commission because, he said, the captain was an old customer of his. The boat was about to sail and there was no time to get the captain ashore and settle the dispute. However, I had the written statement signed by him, that the animals had been bought from me, and I surprised Mahommed Ariff by suing him. He was a surprised Malay when I produced the paper in court, and he paid the commission and costs. The result of the suit was that I gained a number of friends and established a reputation.

This was really my start in the business of animal collecting. At Singapore I had seen enough to know that the work I wanted to do was not simply to sell the animals at a port, but to capture them in the jungle. My main object in going to Sumatra was to live with the natives and learn their methods and language, so that, being at the source of the supply of animals, I could capture and sell with practically no interference from Mahommed Ariff. I was in constant communication with Gaylord, who encouraged me in my idea of becoming a collector; also I put myself in touch with the Australian Zo?logical Society.

Notwithstanding the climate, the sight of such country made me anxious to begin work, and I lost no time in reporting to the Dutch Resident. The Dutch are strict in their colonial government, and, for the most part, they have good reason to be strict. One white man who does not understand the natives and who has no consideration for them may start trouble that will end in an uprising. The trouble generally comes from a lack of regard for the native's feeling for his women. Though the Malays live a fairly loose life, they resent having a white man take their women and they generally vent their displeasure in murder. That, of course, means a government investigation, with ill-feeling rising on both sides. To the Dutch Resident I explained my purpose in wishing to live in the Malay quarter with the hadji, and he gave me permission, warning me that it would be revoked at the least sign of trouble.

It is not difficult to win the friendship of the natives, if you know how to treat them. If they like you, they become doglike in their devotion; they will do anything you tell them to do and believe whatever you say as though it were gospel. I studied them closely, learning their language and customs and carefully avoiding anything that might bring me into disfavor. Day after day, I went with them into the jungle, picking up bits of jungle-craft. Gradually I learned to see the things that they saw in the walls of green about us, and to interpret the sounds--the hum of insects, the call of birds, the chattering of monkeys and the cries of other animals--and I spent hours with them, squatting in their houses, busy with the rudiments of the Malay language.

A native came running to the hadji's house one day with the news that he had seen a big snake. He said that it was at least fifty feet long and as big as a tree. Knowing the Malay habit of exaggerating, I put it down as about twenty feet long; but I gathered a crew of natives and we built a crate from the limbs of trees and bamboo, binding it together with green rattan. According to the native's tale, the snake had just swallowed a pig, and so, knowing that where he had first been seen, he would remain, sleeping and digesting his meal, we postponed the capture until the next morning.

A python always kills his food by coiling around it and crushing it to death; then he swallows it whole, slobbering so that it will pass his throat. During the digestive process, he generally becomes torpid and, without putting up much fight, submits to capture.

Before we went out for the snake, I told each man what he was to do, explaining carefully how I intended to get the snake into the crate. When I was sure that they understood, we started into the jungle, led by the native who made the discovery. I was surprised to find the largest snake I had ever seen. It looked at least thirty feet long and about eighteen inches in diameter. For a moment we stood there gasping.

The python was sleeping peacefully, digesting the pig. I called to the men and put them to work at staking the crate to the ground and securing it so that the snake could not lash it around. The crate was about eight feet long, six feet wide and two and one-half feet deep; just large enough to hold him and just small enough so that, once inside, he would not be able to get leverage and break it. Again I explained what each man was to do. Then I passed a rope through the crate, tying one end to a tree and preparing a running noose to be slipped around the snake's head when we were ready to draw him forward. Two more ropes were laid out, running from his tail. These we wrapped around trees on each side of the tail, and I stationed men at the ends, showing them how they were to pay out the rope as the snake was drawn toward the crate, keeping it taut enough to prevent him from lashing.

The python slept soundly through all these preparations. When we were ready, I gathered the men about me and cautioned them against becoming excited. I warned all those who had not been given work to do to stand back out of the way and not to approach unless we needed them.

With bamboo poles we prodded the snake at the head and tail, standing by with the nooses, ready to slip them on when he stirred sufficiently. Before he realized what was happening, we had the head-noose over him. The instant he felt the rope tighten he was awake!

The man who was caught in the snake's coils screamed, and tried to beat off the tail as it was drawing in about him. Then the snake constricted suddenly, breaking nearly every bone in the man's body and crushing the life out of him instantly. Blood spouted from his mouth and ears, and he was thrown limply about as the snake lashed the air.

The head-noose had been slipped farther down than I wanted, and was giving his head too much play. Assuring the men that he could do no more harm, I took three of them with me and we grabbed the snake's neck. He tossed us about, and we had several minutes of exciting work before we got the head into the open end of the crate. When the rope was secured, we fastened another rope about the middle of him.

The snake lashed furiously, knocking several of the natives down. Stationing a crew of men at the tail-rope to slacken it as we moved forward, I took the others to the crate and set them at pulling on the middle rope. As we dragged the python forward, he coiled in the crate; then, when he was half in, we secured the middle rope and head-rope to trees, passed the tail-rope through the crate and dragged the tail in. There was great rejoicing when we closed the end of the crate and prepared to haul it back to Palembang. We had captured a prize specimen. Cross of Liverpool, to whom I sold him, told me that he measured thirty-two feet. I have never seen his equal in length and girth. But, huge as he was, he coiled up comfortably in his small quarters, promptly fell asleep and went on digesting his pig.

JUNGLE STRATAGEMS

The day's routine while I stayed in Palembang with the old hadji was simple and pleasant. I lived with him and his first wife--he had three others. We rose early and went for a swim in the river, and then, squatting on the floor and eating with our fingers, we breakfasted on fish and rice. After breakfast, the hadji and I would stretch out on our mats and smoke and talk until my servant came to prepare my lunch. A Malay eats but two meals a day--always rice and fish--but I found that two weren't enough for me. After lunch I slept through the heat of the day, with the thermometer climbing up to about 125?. Then, when evening came, Palembang stirred into life.

The Malays liked games and they were continually after me to show them some new kind of kindergarten pastime. It made no difference whether it was tag or diving into buckets of treacle after money; if it was a game, they liked it. Some of them knew how to play chess and they gave whole days and nights to it. They are especially fond of gambling, and they repeatedly lose all their money and borrow from the kind merchant, with the result that, to make good their debts, they spend weeks in fishing.

Occasionally I went to the Dutch quarter to seek a few hours of companionship with white people, but I got little satisfaction out of these visits because I could speak better Malay than Dutch, and at Palambang there were few people who knew English. The white people could not understand why I preferred living with the natives, and some of them looked down on me for it. However, that fact did not trouble me, because I knew what I wanted and I was on the way to getting it. With the hadji I learned the Malay language rapidly, and before long I knew the natives far better than the average white man who goes to work in the Archipelago. For the most part, the whites make no effort to understand them and are thus largely responsible for the troubles that arise. In recent years, the attitude of the colonial governments has changed for the better and there have been fewer disturbances.

The natives came to have confidence in me, especially after the capture of the python, and accepted me as a friend. Often during the evening, when the hadji and I sat talking on the veranda, thirty or forty natives would squat near us, listening to the conversation. If the hadji or I cracked a joke, they would laugh uproariously--not that they understood what had been said, but simply because they wanted to do the proper thing.

The hadji's nephew, Ali, became my devoted servant. He was about twenty years old and far more intelligent than the average; also he was brave and resourceful--qualities that made him my most valuable aid until he was killed during one of our expeditions several years later.

When I went to Singapore with the python, I took Ali with me, and for weeks after, he entertained the natives of Palembang--and me--with his stories of what he had seen and done. It was an excellent example of the feats that Malay imagination can perform.

In Singapore I found an agent of Cross, of Liverpool, of whom I have spoken, and sold the snake to him for 0 , which was considered a banner price. I was glad to have the opportunity of making myself known to the agent, because I foresaw future commissions. He, like many others, was tired of doing business with Mahommed Ariff, who took every possible advantage of his customers, and he was pleased to find a white man in the field of collecting.

We re-crated the python and shipped him off to Liverpool, after feeding him twelve ducks each day for five days. With that stomachful, he could last out the entire voyage and arrive in England with a good appetite.

It was after my return to Palembang that I became acquainted with the inland of Sumatra and with the Orang Ulu, who are quite different from their brothers on the coast. They are more industrious and have not lost their simplicity and honesty by coming into contact with Chinese business methods. They received us kindly and I had no difficulty in making friends with them. During the next year I spent much of my time inland, in hunting and fishing, and I discovered that Sumatra was not the field for collecting that I had expected it to be. But it served my purposes of learning the language and becoming acquainted with the people quite as well as any other part of the Archipelago would have done; and I was too busy studying jungle-craft from the Orang Ulu to think of leaving. Ali, who was always with me, was an invaluable aid. He was a first-rate spear-thrower, but he wanted to be a good shot. He took great pride in my 50-110 express gun, which he carried behind me. He had a trait peculiar in Malays--he was always busy. And he spent a great deal of his energy in cleaning and polishing the gun, hoping for the great reward of being allowed to shoot it. Eventually he became a good marksman. The other servant who accompanied me on my trips into the jungle was a Chinese coolie. He had been my rickshaw boy and I promoted him to the position of cook and store-keeper. Ali was intensely jealous of him but they worked well together.

Though the natives made a sport of spear-throwing, they had given over that method of hunting. They were armed with guns that I honestly believe dated back to Revolutionary times--old, muzzle-loading flintlocks. Where they got them I have never been able to discover. They were fascinated by my 50-110, of course, and, when Ali cleaned it, they squatted about him, wide-eyed. Whenever I saw a native about to shoot his old muzzle-loader, I yelled to him to wait until I got well behind, because the thing sometimes exploded. It was a wonder to me that it didn't always explode. Except when he was after small game, a native loaded his gun nearly to the end of the muzzle with powder before putting in the wads and a huge slug of metal. When he pulled the trigger, he closed his eyes and flinched because the recoil always knocked him flat. But he expected that and cheerfully picked himself up from the ground with the question, "Did I hit it?" And often he did hit it--if the barrel did not explode. I have seen some of the natives with ordinary iron pipe fitted on their guns to replace the barrels that had not been able to stand the strain.

I learned in the jungle that the hunter must always be on the lookout for the unexpected. At first it was difficult for me to distinguish between all the sights and sounds and to interpret each of them, but I soon learned under the tuition of the natives. One great danger came from the leopards, both spotted and black, who lie along the limbs of trees and spring without warning. A tiger slinks away when disturbed in the daytime, but a leopard almost always stands his ground and springs as one passes beneath him. And he can do more biting and scratching in one minute than a tiger can in three or four minutes.

Ali's alertness saved me one day from a terrible mauling, if not from death. We were breaking through the jungle on our way to some traps; Ali shouted and pushed me to one side, shoving my gun into my hands. I looked up, setting my gun, just as a black leopard sprang. Ali's spear whizzed by my head, I fired, catching the animal in mid-air squarely in the chest with an explosive bullet. Ali's spear hit him in the side. I took it as a good lesson in carefulness. It was well enough to be on the alert for the animal I was trailing, but it was also important to be on the alert for the animal that might be trailing me.

A favorite native method of hunting is with birdlime, which is a mucilage made from the gum of a tree. In catching tigers or leopards, the hunter spreads out the birdlime where they will pass and carefully covers it with leaves. Immediately after a cat animal has put his foot in the stuff, he becomes so enraged and helpless that he is easily captured. It is very much like putting butter on a house cat's paws to keep him busy until he becomes accustomed to a new home. The tiger or leopard that steps in birdlime doesn't step gracefully out of it and run away; he tries to bite the stuff from his feet and then he gets it on his face. When he tries to rub it off, he plasters it over his eyes. Finally, when he is thoroughly covered with it, he is so helpless that without much danger he can be put into a cage; and there he spends weeks in working patiently to remove the gum from his fur. Birds and monkeys are captured in birdlime smeared on the limbs of trees; they stay in it until some one goes up and pulls them out.

Another way of capturing small monkeys is by means of a sweetened rag in a bottle. The bottle is covered with green rattan and tied to a tree. The monkey puts his hand through the neck and grabs the rag. He cannot pull his hand out while it is doubled up with the rag in it, and he hasn't sense enough to let go. There he sticks, fighting with the bottle, until the hunter comes along and, by pressing the nerves in his elbow, forces him to open his hand and leave the rag for the next monkey.

We snared and trapped many small animals and occasionally built pit-traps for tapirs. The natives sometimes used pits for marsh elephants, but I have never seen elephants captured in them without being injured. They are so heavy that they hurt themselves in falling.

The marsh elephants in Sumatra are not worth the trouble of capturing, since they are weaker, shorter lived and less intelligent than the other breeds. They bring a low price, and consequently only the babies, which can be handled and transported easily, ever reach the market. The usual procedure among the natives is to shoot the mother and take the baby. It is little like the real game of elephant hunting as I found it later in Trengganu and Siam.

Dynamiting for fish is a great sport among the Malays. It is done, of course, with the maximum chatter and excitement. The natives line the banks of the stream while the dynamite is dropped; then they rush off, some in boats and some of them swimming, to collect the fish that come to the surface.

In practicing medicine for the benefit of the natives, I worked out one theory in regard to leprosy, which is a fairly common ailment in the Archipelago. I asked myself why, since a snake sheds its skin, a man who is afflicted with disease should not be able to do the same thing.

In Singapore there was a rich Chinese leper, known as Ong Si Chou, who asked me repeatedly why I did not bring him some new remedy for his disease. Since he had a large household of servants who took care of him, and his own carriages and rickshaws when he traveled, he was allowed to live untroubled by the authorities; but he was very unhappy, because he had tried all the remedies of the native doctors and was steadily growing worse. At last I told him that I had something that might help. He asked me what it was but I would not tell him. When he insisted, I answered, "Snakes."

"Uh-la!" he exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. Then I explained my theory. The ability of a snake to shed his skin might be transferred to a human being if he ate snakes; and if so, the person would be able to shed his leprosy. Ong Si Chou did not care for the idea at all, but I told him it was worth trying and I argued that a snake is much cleaner than an eel. At last he consented, and I furnished him with a number of small pythons, with the instructions that they were to be killed and cleaned immediately before they were eaten. He was to eat them raw with his rice.

I left Singapore soon after that, and, when I returned, I found that Ong Si Chou had died. People thought it was a great joke on me because my patient had not survived the treatment, but I am far from being convinced that the cure will not work--or, at least, help to throw off leprosy. Ong Si Chou was in the last stages of the disease, and his case was not a fair test.

On my return to Singapore, I found a letter from the director of the Melbourne Zo?logical Society, suggesting that I come to Australia with a consignment of animals. A few weeks later I arrived at Melbourne with a black leopard, twenty-five small monkeys, two small orang-outangs, a pair of civet cats and numerous other animals. Mr. La Souef, the director, and his son, who had just been appointed director of the zo?logical gardens at Perth, met me at the dock. His son bought the entire consignment. The result of this visit was my appointment as agent of the Australian zo?logical gardens. In return for giving them first call on any animals that came into my hands, I was given a retaining fee. The most important part of the agreement was that the animals were to be shipped f.o.b. Singapore and that I was thus released from all the risks of transportation.

It happened too often that animals died aboard ship, after weeks had been spent in capturing them and bringing them to port, and this loss was invariably borne by the dealer. Since the agreement with the Australian zo?logical gardens was exactly what I wanted, I returned to Singapore elated. Ariff was crestfallen when he heard the news, and he became more crestfallen when I called on him and told him about the commission I had received from various societies in Australia. I did not want to have him as an enemy, and I foresaw that there would be war between us unless we came to some sort of terms. Consequently, I told him that I wanted to work with him, and that we could do a great deal of business together if he would treat me fairly. He considered the matter for a time, and then, when he saw that I was getting much higher prices for animals than he, he decided that I was right.

One of my Australian commissions was to secure for the New Gardens, at Perth, a pair of tigers--male and female and unrelated. I sent the word out among animal dealers, and, shortly after, I received a cable from a Calcutta dealer named Rutledge, asking me to come at once. I took the next boat to Calcutta and found that there were two tigers up-country near Hazaribagh, a mica mining district about three hundred miles northwest of Calcutta, off the line of the railroad.

I was warned that it was a dangerous country to go through and that the people were thieves. It was suggested to me that I hire a native of the locality to protect me. He would do all the stealing; he could, they told me, but he would prevent the others from stealing.

The trip was made with a retinue of servants, cooks, bearers and runners, each with his own little task. It was my first experience with the caste system, and I was amazed at the number of people I had to take with me. We traveled by the main road for two hundred miles; then by a branch road to a place called Pachamba. The remainder of the trip was made by ox-teams and bearers, along the line of the government rest-houses erected for the use of officials visiting the country.

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