Modoc: The True Story of the Greatest Elephant That Ever Lived

by Ralph Helfer

  “I…don’t understand…you were on the ship when it…”

  “Yeah, me’n a couple other guys were the first to be picked up. We lucked out and floated on a large piece of the captain’s wheelhouse.” Kelly’s face changed quickly as he recollected. “It was real bad, son, but”—he cracked a smile—“some of us made it. I couldn’t believe it when they told me you were here. I mean, after all, you were down in the hold.”

  Bram raised up on one elbow. “Kelly, Mo! Is she…?”

  “She’s still down, but look, she’s still alive. That’s why I had to come here. I knew when you woke up you’d want to know.”

  “Where is she, Kelly?”

  “They’ve got her at a place, a special place for elephants, outside town a ways. Everyone’s talking about her. That’s how I heard. I ain’t been there, but I don’t think it’s too far.”

  “I’ve got to go to her, Kelly.” Bram started to get out of bed.

  “Hey, wait a minute…now look, you’ve been in here seven days—a whole week! Let the doctor do his stuff. You know, give you a few needles, some X-rays, then get a good night’s sleep and if things look good in the morning, well…maybe they’ll let you see her for a little while. I’ll personally take you to her.”

  Bram lay under the covers thinking about what had happened and what he must do. He slept well into the night. When he awoke the room was dark. Switching on a small table lamp, he took a look around the room for the first time. At the far corner of the room, a very old man wearing a turban and sarong sat on a carpet on the floor. In his hand was a thin rope that led to a large flat rattan fan attached to the ceiling. When pulled, the fan waved to and fro, cooling the air in the hot, humid room. Unfortunately, he’d fallen asleep, and the fan hung motionless.

  Bram had to find Mo. Fighting off the excruciating pains in his body, he lifted himself to an upright position. He fumbled with the netting, tried to find the opening, but his patience wore thin and he ended up ripping a large hole in the transparent material. Sliding through the gap, he searched the room for his clothes, which were nowhere to be found. Bram took one of the large pillowcases, tore an opening in the closed end, and slipped it over his head down to his waist. By standing on the bed, he managed to untie the cord holding the netting together and used it as a belt, fastening it around his waist to hold up his skirtlike apparel. A second pillow was ripped into strips, from which he fashioned a simple but effective turban. Once done, he examined himself in the reflection of the medicine cabinet.

  “Not bad,” he whispered to himself, “not bad at all.”

  Moving to what appeared to be the nearest exit, he pulled back the red and white striped curtain and cautiously looked out. There was no one to be seen. Bram took a few steps to a nearby railing and peered over the edge.

  The hospital, originally a Hindu palace, was structurally sound and sumptuously designed. Converted at the turn of the century, it had high arched ceilings and giant, intricately carved columns that seemed opulent for its current use. The building featured a second floor that opened to a view of the massive central lobby and its entrance hall. Its balconies circled the inside of the entire building, and numerous walkways that led to rooms had been converted into operating rooms, an X-ray department, and pathology laboratories. Each open area employed one or more “fan men.”

  From the balcony Bram watched with fascination as fifty or more fans swayed rhythmically in their endless task to keep the hospital as cool as possible. However, the mesmerizing motion of the fans often put some of the operators to sleep. To save the generator, candles lit most of the rooms.

  Sticking close to the shadowed corridors, he found his way downstairs and through the front arches leading to the street.

  Bram stood at the hospital entrance, looking out with confusion into the dimly lit street. Although it was quite dark, he could see the road was a badly damaged tarmac—mostly dirt with a patchwork of deep holes, boulders, ruts, algae-covered mud pockets, and potholes full of black water. The street was bordered by ancient clay buildings, some two stories high. Small windows had been cut into the walls at the discretion of the builder. Stupas crowned the rooftops of the few that could afford more stylish construction. Kiosks lined the street in front of most of the buildings; their colorful awnings lay still in the night without the faintest breeze. A few bone-thin stray dogs meandered across the road, followed by an assortment of multicolored goats.

  Beggars filled every nook and cranny. Some huddled over a cooking fire, waiting for a small piece of sustenance to have the bacteria cooked out of it. Bram could hear their low mumbles, noting these people moved quietly, watching for the unknown with fearful eyes. This was a city in waiting.

  In his weakened condition, Bram’s nausea and pain were almost overwhelming. Half a dozen Brahma cattle nibbled at the grass along the edge of the road. He looked at the various signs protruding from the buildings, trees and poles—all in a strange language he could not read. However, one in particular caught his eye.

  KISMET ROYAL ELEPHANTARIUM

  10 KM

  An arrow pointed the way. Bram followed the arrow’s direction. An elderly Indian rode by slowly on a dilapidated old bicycle. He passed Bram in the road and noticed the young boy wince. He reduced his speed and said something to Bram. Bram didn’t understand what the old man was saying until he gestured for him to sit on the handlebars. Bram smiled in appreciation and nodded. He climbed on board.

  For miles he sat on the handlebars, his body tortured by every pothole and rut they hit. The man driving never said a word, but occasionally rang a small bell attached to one handle. He seemed obsessed with ringing it. He rang it at every rut he hit, every water hole, every bog. He rang it often, even when they stopped and had to walk the bike.

  At a crossroads, the driver stopped. Bram thanked the man as best he could. The man looked at Bram and began ringing the bell as he rode off into the sweltering Indian night.

  Bram walked on until he noticed ahead shafts of light coming across the road and disintegrating into the forest beyond. From where he stood, he couldn’t see where the light originated. Hastening, he rounded the corner and was met by one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

  A gleaming white palace of unbelievable grandeur stood on a bluff. A multitude of brilliantly colored lights lit the alcazar and the surrounding fields of rich green grass. Made of the finest alabaster, its top was studded with stupas, domes, spirals—all rising in the sky. Pathways ambled in every direction on the palace grounds, lined with vivid blooms of chrysanthemums, bougainvillea, and roses. Waterfalls of all sizes cascaded cool, fresh water into streams and brooks brimming with exotic and colorful koi. Gracing the entrance, centered on the front lawn, and resting high upon a platform, was a full-sized teakwood replica of an Indian elephant, its head held high in all its majesty, its trunk raised in a sign of triumph.

  Bram had never seen such beauty and elegance. He followed the stone walkway that led up to the marble staircase. He counted forty stairs as he climbed to the great doors of the palace, but saw two guards standing at either side, each holding a lance. Bram didn’t want to risk being discovered, especially when he felt he was so close to finding Modoc.

  To the right he spotted a narrow path. Bram followed it but soon was lost in a maze of roses, lilacs, and daffodils. The aroma was breathtaking, and mingled with it was an all too familiar odor: elephants! He followed the scent; the pain seemed to leave his body as he hurried through the garden, sniffing the air. He came out on an open lawn. Some twenty yards in front was a knoll. Running to the top of it, overlooking the valley below, Bram was greeted with a spectacular sight.

  It was the elephant compound, better known as the Elephantarium. All the structures were of Hindu design, bleached white stone walls, tapered roofs, gold-leafed spirals, with Hindu statues and artifacts delicately placed throughout the facilities. Directly in front appeared to be the main office building. The building with the hospital flag flying
from the roof spoke for itself. Circling around, he approached the hospital from the side, hoping no one would be there this early in the morning.

  The door creaked as it opened; its echo let Bram know he was in a very big building. It was pitch dark inside except for a row of small candles set on the ground and running down the middle. Bram’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but he knew elephants were here. Their heavy breathing, blowing air through their trunks, and rattling of chains told him there were more than a few. As his eyes adjusted, he started to walk down the center, alongside the silently flickering candles. Bram gasped as he saw elephants lying or standing on either side of him. Big ones, a few medium-sized, a couple of punks. Some had bandages, a few wore splints. This was indeed the hospital…a hospital for elephants. Many wore heavy metal identification plates linked to their leg chains.

  Bram carefully checked each one, hoping to find Modoc. There must have been twenty, but by the time he got to the end, there was no sign of her. Bram felt his body quiver. Was it a reminder of the ocean, or Mo? Had she died; had Kelly not wanted to tell him before he had recovered?

  “Mo?” he whispered, “Mosie, are you here?”

  All the elephants became quiet, listening to the stranger’s voice in the dark. Then, one by one, they answered Bram with grunts, trumpets, and squeaks. The vocal assembly was deafening. As they settled down, Bram heard a low guttural sound.

  “Mo…is it you?” His heart raced. Again he heard the sound come from another section of the building. It was barely audible, back in the dark away from the others. He heard it again, the same noise, a weak animal trying to speak. Reaching down, Bram picked up one of the candles and walked into the darkness.

  “Mosie, where are you? Mo…?” Away from the other candles, the darkness was total. Time and time again he tripped over something or other, lying on the ground.

  “Mosie, say something, baby, so I can find you.” He stopped for a moment.

  Up from the floor rose a moan from the edge of death. Bram fell to his knees. There was Mo, right in front of him!

  “Mo! Mo! You’re alive!”

  He put the candle down nearby and ran his hands all over her. Pressing his face to her cheek, he cried tears of joy, of deep and utter gratitude. Mo’s trunk managed to maneuver itself to his face, the tip exploring all over, checking as best she could if he was all right. Bram laid up under her chin, their favorite place, even though he remembered his father’s comment about sleeping head to head. She laid her trunk over his shoulder as a mother would with her child, and listened as he began to tell her, in a hushed voice, all that had happened since he last saw her. Thus, Bram found Mo, and by the light of a single candle, the two talked in their way, of ships and oceans, love and death, pain and survival. Had an outsider listened in, he would surely have thought these stories must have been a child’s delusions—until the candle burned low, and sleep became the victor.

  18

  “WAKE UP! WAKE UP, SIR!”

  Bram awoke from a deep sleep to find a group of people standing over him and Modoc. They all wore garb similar to what he remembered seeing on the staff at the hospital. On their turbans and kurtas was an insignia with an elephant similar to the statute in front of the palace. The name ELEPHANTARIUM was arched over it.

  “Please, sir, are you not aware of the danger you are in by being where you are at this precise moment? Sir?”

  The young man who spoke was tall and slender, with black, shining hair, and was dressed in a kurta. Bram realized he was still lying under Mo’s chin and promptly stood up.

  “English? You speak English?” he asked, happy at last to speak with someone who could understand him.

  “Yes, as do you, I see. Most of us here have learned many languages, English is one. This is good. My name is Sabu,” said the stranger, “and I am in direct charge under Dr. Scharren, our in-house veterinarian.”

  “Mine is Bram, and Modoc and I were rescued at sea.”

  “Oh, so you are the one that I have heard about. I wish you welcome to our establishment, but it is most unusual for our guests to come to us in this way,” said Sabu, smiling.

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen her since the emergency, and was worried, so I…”

  “I understand, but now, please to let me show you a place of privacy where you may change your clothes and eat nourishing food and rest from your trip.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate your help, but Modoc needs me. I think it’s better if I stay here.”

  Sabu looked at Bram with a serious face. “You are one of us, I see.” Then changing the thought, “She has done nothing more than turn over now and then since she came here, and we are afraid that the disease of peritonitis will commence, as her circulation is poor.”

  At once Bram went to Mo. “Good morning, Mosie, how’re ya doin’?” He put his face down close to hers and gave her a small quiet kiss on the cheek. Suddenly Bram became self-conscious and embarrassed in front of Sabu and the others. But Sabu smiled his understanding. “All right, Mosie, it’s time to get up now. We’ve got the world to see and I don’t want to see it alone, so move up, Mo! Move up!”

  Mo’s eyes opened wide. She looked around, taking it all in, and seemed to gather energy. “Please, everybody, help support her as she stands. Okay, Mosie, now girl, up! Up, Mo!”

  Mo started to rock, each time raising her two free legs higher in the air. On the third try, she threw her head into it, and with the help of six people, all pushing, managed to right herself into a sphinx position.

  “Good girl, Mo. Now rest a minute while all that good blood races around and fills in those dry spots that haven’t had any for a long time.”

  Sabu was awestruck. “Why, this is very wonderful!” he exclaimed. “You speak the tongue of the pachyderm.”

  “If you could bring a few more people to help when she stands, it will make her feel more secure,” requested Bram.

  Sabu spoke to one of his assistants, who raced away. “Meanwhile, we can rub her down with a mild astringent to assist the movement of the blood, yes?” asked Sabu.

  “Yes,” affirmed Bram.

  Sabu’s assistant came back with twenty men, all eager to help. The liniment had been applied and Bram was ready to stand Mo. He addressed the group.

  “As she stands, think of yourselves as her muscles. Apply your strength to those areas that need it.” Modoc was surrounded by people, all awaiting Bram’s signal to help her. “Okay, Mosie, come up! Come up! Now, Mo! Now!”

  She began by stepping two front feet backward, raising her front section. Bram had all the men launch themselves against her chest and her front legs, and push as hard as possible. Slowly, her front feet stepped backward until they were in place. Her head was now quite high in the air. Everyone ran around to her hind section, forming a semicircle.

  “Mo, this is it, girl. This is all the way. Come up, Mo, come up!” She strained for all she was worth, and so did they, with some even getting underneath—a dangerous place to be if their effort failed. With great shoving and lifting of tonnage…slowly…Modoc stood! A cry of victory went out, triggering every elephant in the ward to answer back with full-blown trumpets. Special supports were brought in and a sling was lowered under Mo so she could relax her bulk at will and take the weight off her legs.

  Bram stayed twenty-four hours a day, feeding, watering, cleaning, and helping Dr. Scharren with shots, pills, and any other medication that was necessary. He set up a place to sleep, and the staff saw to it that Bram had everything he needed to be comfortable. He could eat all his meals with them or have them brought to him if he felt Mo was having a bad time.

  Dr. Scharren, a rather obese man, was always having trouble picking things up, climbing stairs, or, for that matter, doing anything that required physical exertion. He was quite jovial about it, however, and his good nature carried through to the care he gave the animals.

  “You should go to school and become a veterinarian,” he suggested to Bram. It w
as during a time when one of the not-so-nice elephants had rammed its tusk into another who was standing too close. Sabu was away, so the doctor asked Bram to assist him. The wound was quite deep and needed a number of stitches.

  “I used to help my father with things like this,” Bram said, holding the hemostat as Dr. Scharren sutured the jagged wound. “Blood never bothers me, but I’d still rather be a trainer than a vet, if you’ll pardon me, sir. Elephants are much more fun when they feel good.” The doctor laughed and continued suturing.

  Sabu informed Bram that the owner of the Elephantarium, the maharajah, had heard of the Modoc incident and, upon inquiring, was very pleased with Mo’s progress.

  “He said he was proud to have such heroes here as his guests and looks forward to meeting you soon. Until then, he offered a place to live and the continued best care available for Mo. I told him of your desire to sleep alongside Modoc, but he wanted me to speak with you anyway.”

  “Please tell him I think it would be better for me to stay with Mo until she is completely over her illness, but then I’d be happy to accept his kind offer. Deep down, Sabu,” Bram added, his voice taking on a serious note, “I feel Mo’s problem isn’t just physical. With what she’s been through, well, I think it will take some time before she feels safe and secure again.”

  “Master Bram, you are a rare person not to choose the comforts for yourself. I will inform His Majesty of your decision.”

  When news was brought to the maharajah that Bram preferred to sleep by Mo until she was better, he ordered a bed to be made for him. Constructed from valuable teakwood, it was ornate and hand-carved, with a canopy, and fitted together without the use of a single nail. Wherever a joint was needed, a peg of a particular wood was inserted, and within a day’s time, the peg exuded a strange sap, causing it to swell and thus seal the joint firmly. After the carvers had finished, an artist was called to paint the designated areas. The painter loved bright vivid colors, and created many elephants in various scenes of performance, combat, and work. He chose to paint each a different color. There were green and blue and red elephants and every other shade one could imagine. While gaudy, it was truly a work of art…and Bram loved it. The day it arrived, all the mahouts and their assistants turned out to see it. It was carried by six fan men, followed by a procession of the carvers, and their apprentices, the kitchen staff, and a small entourage of the maharajah’s delegates, all anxious to see if Bram was pleased. Carved and painted at the top of the headboard were the words HATHI-KA-SAHAB which meant “Master of the Elephants.” A week hadn’t passed before a matching table was added, and a week after that, a chair.