Bengal Dacoits and Tigers Part 3

By sunrise they were all after the dacoits. Blood-drops marked the way and, near by, they found the wounded man who, only able to hobble, had hidden himself in a thicket. The Deputy Magistrate's father-in-law was arrested. He was one of the leaders of the band. It did not take long to capture the others. And after this, for a time, this part of the Dacca district enjoyed peace from dacoits.

All for Nothing

A young and very high-caste Bengali lady was married to the son of a rich man who lived near Hooghly, a small town within a short distance of Calcutta.

Some years pa.s.sed, but there was no sign of a son and heir. The parents-in-law were fond of the girl. She had won her way into their hearts and they sympathised with her. Yet they longed to see the old name being carried down the years, and whisperings grew into talk of a second marriage for their son. The girl's parents were anxious and distressed.

Then a kindly Providence intervened, and after months of expectation a little son lay in her arms, and both families rejoiced with the girl and shared her pride in the boy baby.

When the child was about a year old, the young mother's brother became engaged to be married. The date was fixed and invitations sent to the girl and to the family of her parents-in-law. It was arranged that she and her baby should attend the wedding.

Not far off, also in Hooghly, lived a widowed sister (of the girl) in her father-in-law's house. She too was going to the wedding, and it was settled that both sisters should travel in the same boat to Calcutta. No male member of either family could accompany them. Therefore, their father sent an old servant from Calcutta to fetch them. This man was trusted and treated like a member of the family, with whom he had been for years.

The girl put together her clothes. Her good mother-in-law unlocked the great safe and took out the girl's best jewels. An Indian wedding is the occasion for a great display of clothes and jewellery, and a well-dressed and richly-adorned bow raises the credit of the mother-in-law, especially if the wedding is in the girl's own family; so a careful selection was made. Baby was not forgotten either. Tiny gold bangles and chains had been showered upon him at his birth, and this was his first public appearance.

They started early, so as to arrive during the afternoon. There was to be a ceremony the next day and many guests had arrived at the bride-groom's house, and all watched eagerly for the two sisters. But the hours waned and still they tarried. Late in the evening, the old servant arrived, agitated and all mud-bespattered.

Family, guests and servants plied him with questions concerning the sisters. Not a word would he reply. Suspicions soon voiced themselves. Dacoits were about. Everyone knew of the wedding and the consequent family gathering. Everyone knew too that the daughter was the cherished bow of a rich family.

Urged by these arguments and his own anxiety, the father threatened to skin the man alive unless he spoke. Intimidated by his master's anger, the servant stated that the boat had capsized and the sisters and baby were drowned.

The house of mirth and laughter was changed to one of weeping. But the father did not accept the information in its entirety. He called in the police and a vigorous search was made. All the boatmen were found. They stated they had swum ash.o.r.e but could or would give no word of the ladies.

The only possible clue was given by an Englishman living in a mill on the river bank at Chinsurah. About midnight, on the date of the disappearance of the ladies, he heard the cries of women and a child. At first he had thought of going to see what was up. But the sounds were coming from a thick jungle, and he argued it was impossible any one could be there in trouble, and finally thought no more of the seeming cries.

This ill-omened happening broke up the wedding party. The marriage was cancelled. All the preparations had been for nothing. To this day the fate of the sisters is unknown. The bride and bridegroom-elect were married to other parties.

A Punjabee Dacoit

In a railway train several Punjabee ladies sat on the lower berths of a second cla.s.s compartment, laughing and talking gaily. They were, with one exception, all richly dressed and each of them wore a quant.i.ty of jewels. The exception was a capable, good-looking woman, of about twenty-five. Her short hair, neck and arms bare of jewellery, and plain white saree, proclaimed her a widow. But like the others she chatted merrily, and a listener would have learned from their conversation that they had been attending a wedding, and were now on their way home. Witty remarks about the guests, criticism of the looks of the bride, and comparisons of this wedding with others, pa.s.sed from one to another, and whiled away the hours of the journey as the train sped onwards.

Night fell, and the ladies became silent. They rested against each other and dozed at intervals. The widow sat on a trunk at the end of the carriage and silently told her beads. The train slowed down and stopped at a little station. Then the bell clanged and once again they were on their way. The little station had not been left far behind when a dark figure appeared on the foot-board of the ladies'

carriage, and a man's head was thrust in at one of the windows. A startled exclamation from one of the party drew the attention of all to the intruder, who was pulling himself up into the carriage. He was very fierce-looking, wore a huge turban, and had a bushy black beard. In one hand he held a knife and with the other he a.s.sisted himself into the compartment, in spite of the ladies' protestations.

Some of them began to cry but one or two bolder spirits ventured to argue with him. In answer to their questions and objections, he said roughly: "It is a long while before you will reach another station. I have come for your jewels. If you give them to me quietly, I will not hurt any of you; but if not--" and he looked very expressively at the knife in his hand.

After some few minutes, the ladies, who were inclined to oppose him, yielded to the tearful advice of their more timid sisters, and one by one they began to unclasp necklaces and belts and hand them over to the dacoit together with bracelets, bangles and rings. The ruffian, finding them docile, did not hustle them in any way but stood leisurely receiving the spoil. Then he carefully folded all in a rich saree and was knotting the ends together when the train suddenly stopped, and an Englishman pushed open the door of the ladies' compartment and sprang at him with the exclamation, "You scoundrel!"

The sudden surprise and a.s.sault threw the robber off his feet, and he fell sprawling on the carriage floor, with the Englishman on top of him. In the meantime, the guard and others arrived and the thief was secured and his hands and feet were bound together with his own pugree, and he was removed to the guard's van.

The widow was the heroine of the adventure. As soon as she saw the man entering the carriage, she realised his purpose. Slipping into the lavatory she climbed through the window there on to the footboard, and pulled herself along by the carriage rods to the next compartment where the solitary occupant, an Englishman, sat reading.

He was amazed to see a woman clinging to the window of his carriage, but fortunately he understood the language; and when she said "Help, thief in the next carriage", he opened the door and got her into his carriage without any delay. In a few words, she acquainted him with what was happening in the next compartment. He immediately pulled the alarm cord to stop the train, and hurried along the footboard to the a.s.sistance of the ladies. They were profuse in their expressions of grat.i.tude to him, but he insisted that they owed their lives and their jewels to their courageous friend.

A Child's Experience

Some years ago in a country place, not far from Calcutta, there lived a well-to-do Bengalee gentleman. He was an old man; and his large family consisting of sons, grandsons, and his brothers with their wives and children, and many dependent relatives--all lived happily together in their ancestral home.

It was an old-fashioned house with verandahs, courtyards and many rooms. In a large dalan or verandah all the family poojas were celebrated. Here the daughters of the house were married, and for generations the old walls had looked on at family gatherings and festivities.

There were extensive grounds round the house. Quite close to the zenana there was a large kitchen garden which supplied all the vegetables consumed daily in the house; and so plentiful was the produce that large trays filled with vegetables were sent out every day as presents to friends, relatives and to the neighbouring temples.

A little further away was an orchard, and in spring the numerous mango trees delighted all eyes with their blossoms. And there were jack fruit trees, peaches, plums and guava trees in numbers, besides long lines of plantains and palms of several kinds.

In the garden, orchard and stables there were tanks and wells so that the supply of water was sufficient for the needs of such a large establishment. In front of the mansion there was a large ornamental tank or lake with white marble steps leading to its waters. Here every evening the men and boys of the family gathered to recreate and enjoy the cooling south breeze, and they were often joined by neighbours, and many a pleasant hour was spent on those marble steps.

An avenue of trees and a high hedge rendered the house quite private, and the roof was a lovely recreation place and promenade for the ladles and girls of the family, who were all purdah.

The old man's wealth was much discussed and the expensive clothes and rich jewels of the ladies were often spoken of. One day the old gentleman received a warning letter from a band of dacoits that the house would be visited by them that night. After some hurried consultation, the family packed up all their jewels and valuables and sought shelter in flight. It was decided to spend the night at a place a few miles distant.

In the excitement a young mother was separated from her little boy, a child of about three or four years of age. She concluded that he was with some other member of the family in another carriage and did not trouble herself about it. But on their arrival at their place of refuge he was not found with any of the others.

The mother's distress of mind was pitiful. She wished to return for her child; but it was growing dark and there was the danger of meeting the dacoits. So her wish was overruled, and through the long night she suffered terrible anxiety, picturing in her mind all that was perhaps befalling her little son.

In the meantime the child was sleeping sweetly and peacefully in his bed in his mother's room. Tired out with play, he had slipped into bed unknown to any one and there he lay.

About twelve at night the dacoits arrived and broke into the house. They searched the empty rooms and were furious at finding no valuables worth carrying away. They came to the room where the little boy slept, and their loud voices awakened him. He sat up and, seeing their strange faces and glaring torches, screamed with fright. One of them threatened to kill him if he did not stop his noise. Another stepped to the bedside and taking the little boy in his arms said: "Little one, do not cry. No one will hurt you."

The child recognised his father's servant and twined his little arms around the man's neck. The other dacoits laughed and walked out of the room leaving their comrade with the child.

When daylight broke, the family returned home, and the poor young mother flew through the house in search of her child. To her surprise and joy she found him sleeping peacefully in her own room. Her hysterical caresses awakened him and the little fellow could not understand what ailed his mother.

"Did nothing happen during the night?" she asked. "Did you see anything or anyone, my son?"

Rubbing his chubby knuckles in his eyes the sleepy little boy answered: "Oh, yes, where were you, mother? A lot of men came. Some wanted to hit me, but--(naming the servant) was with them, and he sent them away. Then he gave me sweets and put me to sleep."

The servant was arrested, and he confessed that he was one of the band of dacoits who had sent the warning letter and had broken into the house. Nearly the whole band was captured.

Two Chinese Dacoits

In a large house in Calcutta there lived an Englishman, his wife and her sister. Mrs. C. was of a highly-strung and nervous disposition, and as her husband's business frequently occasioned his absence from home, they had persuaded her sister Ethel to come out to India on a long visit.

Ethel was a bright, lively girl, very practical and quite the opposite of her sister, whom she often rallied for her timidity. Once when Alice was more trying than usual, Ethel exclaimed: "Perhaps if I were a little like you, Alice, delicate, nervous and silly, I might get a husband who would fuss over me like Charlie does over you."

Alice laughed at her sister's earnestness and said: "If you were not healthy and strong-minded you would understand me better, Ethel."

Not long afterwards the two ladies were left alone for some days as Mr. C. was obliged to go upcountry on business. While he was away, Ethel slept with her sister. It was the cold weather when night closes in early and the evenings are long. Mrs. C. liked an early dinner, soon after which she always retired. Ethel liked to spend the long quiet evenings, reading or writing, and often sat up till midnight.

One afternoon, while they were at lunch, a telegram was brought in, and on opening it, Alice exclaimed delightedly "Charlie will be back in time for dinner."

The evening pa.s.sed away till dinner time but Mr. C. did not arrive and the ladies waited till nine o'clock. Then they dined, and when the clock struck ten and still there was no arrival, Alice said she would go to bed, as Charlie must have missed his train and the next was not due till near midnight.