Motor Matt's Launch; or, A Friend in Need

by Stanley R. Matthews

  THE MAN-EATER.

  I was traveling on duty from Kolicaad on the coast to an inlandstation, by a road, crossing the Western Ghauts, which was entirelynew to me. Two bullock carts carried my kit; my half a dozen servantsmarched alongside, while I headed the procession on horseback. Beforeleaving Kolicaad I had ascertained that the route was furnishedthroughout with travelers' rest houses; that after the first threemarches the country became wild; that a few coffee plantations--managedby Europeans--lay scattered about the loftier hills, and that fromthe third stage--Cerrianaad--right away to the further foot of theGhauts, I would traverse heavy jungle, said to be swarming with wildanimals. This last piece of information would have gladdened a seasonedshikarrie--or sportsman--but to me it was immaterial, as I was notmuch given that way. I was only nineteen years of age, owned nothingin the shape of firearms, and had yet to acquire that love of big gameshooting which took such strong hold of me in after years.

  After we passed Cerrianaad the country became more hilly, the trackzigzagged and curved, the dense jungle shut in the road, hamlets grewfewer and further between, and the only natives to be seen abroad werewayfarers--all in large bodies--who told us that they purposely made upparties for the sake of security. I could see that my followers werefast becoming uneasy; they huddled together, while the bullock driversfrantically urged their sluggish cattle into keeping pace with me onhorseback. We reached the next stage--Wuddagherry--without adventure;but here we learned something that well-nigh drove my servants into apanic, and made me ardently wish that I had a gun of any descriptionin my hands. Soon after our arrival the head man of Wuddagherry hamletcame to me and asked if I intended going on to Malanaad the followingday. I understood him, for I had already picked up the local language.

  "Yes," I replied.

  "You must take care to reach it as early as possible, sir; for it is along stage, fifteen miles; the road is difficult, and very dangerous."

  "How is it more dangerous than from Cerrianaad to this?" I inquiredwith surprise; for no one at Kolicaad had said anything about the stagein question being particularly perilous.

  "Almost opposite to Malanaad hamlet, sir, about a quarter of a mileoff the road to the right, an English gentleman has lately commencedclearing the jungle to make a coffee plantation. He has built an ironhouse and iron lines for his coolies."

  "That's good news, head man: I shall certainly go and stay the nightwith the gentleman rather than at the Malanaad bungalow--all by myself."

  "But, sir," continued the villager, now speaking in an awed whisper,"a man-eating tiger that is supposed to have wandered up from the lowcountry on the other side is haunting the plantation! The Malanaadhamlet is walled in; the people do not stir out after dark, so thetiger is preying on the gentleman's coolies, who are not so protected."

  Danger, indeed! I had heard and read of man eaters, but had neverencountered one. What if the demon happened to be lurking by theroadside as we passed? What if he should pop out on to us? What could Ido? Nothing!

  "Is the gentleman by himself?"

  "No, sir; he has a son of about thirteen years, and a little daughter,much younger. I saw them all when they rested here on their way up."

  "No lady?"

  "No, sir; but there was an old ayah who attended on the little girl."

  I felt sorry for the isolated Englishman, especially when I thoughtof his two children, leading a lonely life in a jungle, cut off fromthe society of those of their own color. Knowing how gladly they wouldwelcome me, I should certainly have claimed the planter's hospitalityfor one night at least had not the villager's news about the tigerput me off the idea. No, I was not going to run any risk: I would gostraight to the Malanaad bungalow.

  After dismissing the head man, I summoned my trembling followers,heartened them as best I could, and added that we would startsufficiently early in the morning to insure our reaching Malanaad wellbefore sundown.

  Accordingly, we set out soon after dawn, and proceeded in close order,keeping a bright lookout on all sides. The road wound, dipped, andclimbed; the thick jungle lined it on both flanks, and frequentlyformed a canopy over our heads. We heard occasional weird cries in theforest, but saw nothing; and we met no one till the afternoon, when,all at once, as we cleared a bend, I saw a narrow road branching off tothe right, and three figures standing under a tree just where the twotracks joined. One was a European lad of some thirteen years, the othera flaxen-haired little girl of eight or so--both wearing sun hats--andthe third an old ayah, or maid; the planter's children, no doubt, withthe maid in attendance. But why there--a quarter of a mile from theirhome? Why with only a solitary old native woman, while a man-eatingtiger, not to say other dangerous animals, perhaps crouched in the verythicket behind them? My blood curdled as I thought it. No sooner didthey behold me than all three ran forward.

  "Halloa! Who are you?" I asked, dismounting and signing my carts tohalt.

  "Oh, we are so glad to see you!" answered the boy, eagerly andbreathlessly. "My name is Jimmy Simpson: this is my sister Maud, andthe old woman is her nurse. We are Mr. Simpson's children: we live upat the plantation, and--and we are in great trouble."

  "What trouble?" I demanded.

  "A man-eating tiger commenced coming here a few nights ago, and haskilled several of our coolies. My father has not been able to shootit. Many of the coolies ran away; and, as father could not make theplantation without men, he and Pote have gone down the other side ofthe hills to get some."

  "Who's Pote?"

  "Father's assistant. They went the day before yesterday, leaving us inthe care of the servants and the few coolies who still stayed. Thatnight the tiger came about eight o'clock, the same time as before, andkilled a man who had gone out of doors. The next morning every coolieand all our house servants ran away: they said they were too frightenedto stop any longer. But the ayah wouldn't leave Maud. We are afraid ofspending another night by ourselves, so, as the tiger does not showhimself till about eight o'clock, we came out here, and have beenwaiting all the afternoon in hopes of meeting some one who would stayat the bungalow with us. Father won't be back for a week. Oh, sir, docome and stay with us!" he concluded pleadingly.

  I thought that if I did halt here--even for a week--and I explainedthe reason to my superiors, they would not blame me. It was againsthuman nature to leave these poor children alone in their fix. I didnot see how I could suggest their abandoning the house, with alltheir father's property in it, and accompanying me to the comparativesafety of the Malanaad bungalow--the very fact of Jimmy Simpson'sexpressing no such wish barred the idea. I therefore decided to givethem my companionship--little though it might afford in the shape ofprotection. So, telling my people to go on to the travelers' bungalow,I turned up the side road with the children.

  In the centre of a clearing stood a corrugated iron house, with ahigh-pitched roof, and a veranda running all round, above which openedsome ventilating windows. Several trees had been allowed to standclose to the house--evidently to give shade--while at the back was arange of out-houses for servants, and two long rows of "lines" for thecoolies--all built of the same material as the main house. Exceptingthe high ventilators, every door and window was closed, and not a soundsave that of our footsteps broke the reigning stillness. Young Simpsonunlocked a door, and we entered the bungalow. The ayah brought mesome refreshing drink, which was very welcome after my journey, and Ichatted for some time with the children, with whom I soon became fastfriends.

  "Well," said I at length, "I must leave you for an hour or so. I havegot to see my things safely stowed away at the travelers' bungalow.Then I'll trot back here for the night with some of my men."

  "Please don't be longer than you can help, Mr. Geoffrey!" begged thelad.

  "I'll be as quick as I can," I replied. "Be ready to open the door whenyou see us approaching."

  And I hurried away.

  My followers, however, were obdurate, and no amount of threats orcoaxing would induce them to budge from the travelers' bungalow. D
uringmy absence the man in charge, and the villagers, had been telling themall about the tiger, and they flatly refused to accompany me to theplantation house. I had no alternative, therefore, but to go alone.

  I must confess to a strong sensation of nervousness as, with lantern inhand, I set out on my return journey to the Simpsons'. But I had pickedup an idea somewhere that a man-eating tiger was peculiarly regular asregarded the time of his visits to the locality he preyed on. Jimmy hadsaid that this brute appeared at eight o'clock or thereabouts; so, itnow being only a little past seven, I imagined that I had forestalledthe tiger. I reached the clearing, saw the light shining through theupper ventilator windows, reconnoitred as well as the darkness wouldallow, listened intently, and then pushed boldly across.

  I had hardly got halfway ere I heard Jimmy's voice, muffled andindistinct, from within the building.

  "All right, Jimmy!" I answered, dashing on. "Here I am! Open the door!"

  "Climb! Climb!" I now plainly heard him cry. "The tiger's close bysomewhere!"

  The words temporarily paralyzed me. I looked to see the monster shootinto the rays of my lantern; I already felt his fangs at my throat! Hemust have observed my approach, and concealed himself--to pounce on me!Jimmy must have marked the manoeuvre, and had shouted a warning in hischildish way! With the beast at the door, so to speak, of course I didnot expect the boy to open it: before I could slip in the tiger wouldprobably be up, and either grab me or enter the house. No; the boy wasquite right in keeping the door shut.

  These thoughts flashed through my mind in a moment: the next, nervedby despair, and roused to action by Jimmy's reiterated cry of "Climb!Climb!" I glanced wildly about me and found myself close to one ofthe shady trees already alluded to. It was a moderately sized tree,with a smooth, straight stem, and much foliage at the top. Droppingmy lantern--fortunately, without upsetting it--I threw myself onthat trunk, and frantically shinned up. I was just in time: I hadbarely got out of harm's way ere, with a hideous roar, a long, lanky,mangy-looking tiger squirmed round the corner of the house, came ina series of bounds to the tree, and then, rearing on end, tried tohook me down! I could hear his claws tearing the bark; I expected thecruel talons to pierce my flesh; but luckily he could not reach me,and I hauled myself up among the branches into comparative safety.It now remained to be seen whether the beast could and would followme. At the time I knew nothing of the tiger's climbing powers; so Iwatched my enemy in an agony of doubt--to be inexpressibly relievedwhen I realized that he could not do it! He was old--as most man-eatersare: he hung on to the base of the stem, but, after many ineffectualattempts, he desisted: the task was beyond him: he was unable to drawhimself up!

  For the present I was safe, then, and had time to look about me. Takingmy position in the centre of the tree, I topped the veranda roof, and Icould almost see in through one of the ventilator windows; but a goodsix feet yawned between the inmost tree twig and the veranda eave; agap that I could not cover even had I good foothold to spring from.Nothing remained, therefore, but to make the best of it, and trust tothe feline sneaking off at daylight. Accordingly, I was about seekinga comfortable branch to spend the night on when Jimmy called, "Mr.Geoffrey!"

  "Halloa!" I shouted in reply; "I'm safe up the tree, Jimmy, thanks toyour warning."

  "But you are not safe!" he wailed hysterically.

  "Why, where's the danger? The brute has tried to climb the tree, butfailed: he can't get at me."

  "Yes, he can, if he thinks of the wood stack!"

  "What wood stack?"

  "There, at the end of the veranda, just round the corner! If he climbsby it on to the veranda roof, he can jump from there into the tree!I've only just thought of it!"

  My lantern rays did not penetrate so far. I peered through the gloomin the direction indicated, and could dimly make out a number of logends projecting beyond the side wall, and heaped to the full height ofthe veranda itself. Clearly, then, if the tiger thought of that stackhe would certainly climb it, come along the veranda roof to the tree,spring across the gap, seize and carry me with him to the ground! AsI contemplated these probabilities I nigh yielded to despair: I brokeinto a cold perspiration, and I murmured a prayer for aid. That myprayer was answered is proved by my now living to tell this story. ButI had yet to get out of my fix. I was given little leisure to reflect,for the tiger--as if Jimmy's words had given him the hint--walkedoff and disappeared round the corner; a scrambling, scratching soundfollowed, and before I could well believe my eyes, there came thebrute, sneaking along the inclined plane of the veranda roof!

  Could I--after warning Jimmy to unfasten the door--slip down the treeand dash into the house? No; though the varmint could not climb Ifelt sure he could drop, and that almost before I touched ground hewould be upon me. The ugly cat crawled along the sloped iron sheeting,halted abreast of the tree, and set up a hoarse purr on spottingme--cowering amid the branches. He crept closer and closer to the eavetill he could come no further--then gathered himself up for a spring!He strained and strained; I expected to see him shoot across and digboth teeth and claws into me; yet he came not! I stared at the beast ina wild fascination of terror. I remember--at that awful moment--beingstruck by his aged and unkempt appearance; I remember hearing thepurr gradually give place to a growl of anger, and then all at oncethe truth broke on me: that outward and upward spring was beyond theman-eater; he would not attempt the feat; I was safe!

  My courage revived, and with it came a fierce longing to destroy mytormentor, whose foul breath reached and sickened me even at thatdistance. Now, another thought suddenly struck me: was there possibly agun of some kind in the house? Hardly; for if so I should probably haveseen it, or Jimmy would have offered me the weapon when I left thatafternoon. Anyhow, I would find out.

  "Jimmy!" I bawled, causing the tiger to start angrily.

  "Yes, Mr. Geoffrey?"

  "The tiger has come on to the veranda roof--as you said; but he can'tmanage to spring into the tree, so I'm safe!"

  "Oh, I'm so glad! I was----"

  "I say, have you a gun?"

  "Father took one rifle with him; the other is in the case, locked up,to keep us from meddling with it."

  "Are there cartridges?"

  "Yes; a beltful in the case."

  "Where's the key?"

  "Father has it."

  "Jimmy," I rejoined imploringly, "break open the case, load the rifle,open the door a wee bit, and fire at the beast through the verandaroof. The bullet will penetrate--I'm sure. He is crouching in a linewith the ventilator, just short of the eave, so you'll know where toaim. I'll make it right with your father."

  "What's the good?" half whimpered the boy. "I don't know how to use arifle."

  Here was a facer! What more was left? But my brain was busy, and Idetermined to die hard. Green as I was, shaken as I was, I resolved totry and shoot the tiger myself!

  "Jimmy, do you think you could manage to pass me the rifle?"

  "I will if I can; but how?"

  "No use attempting the door--even while the brute is on the verandaroof; he'd hear you like a shot, and pounce down on you before youcould wink. But could you reach the ventilator window from the inside?Don't be afraid; it is too small for him to get his head and shouldersthrough, so he can't touch you."

  "But how am I to do it?"

  "Can't you go hand-over-hand up the swing rope, with the rifle and beltslung on you?"

  "Yes, I can," he answered readily.

  "Then you could work along the tie beam and reach the window, couldn'tyou?"

  "I think so; but even if the window is large enough for me, how aboutthe tiger outside?"

  "Tell you what: get the rifle and cartridge belt, climb the swing rope,making as little noise as possible, and straddle along the tie beam tothe window. Directly I see you there, I'll pretend to descend the tree;the brute will either drop to the earth from where he now is, or goround by the wood heap; in either case you could scramble out, chuck methe rifle and belt, and get through the windo
w again before the tigeris able to remount the veranda by the wood heap; that is, if he noticesyou. Leave the rest to me."

  The boy was plucky to the backbone, and immediately agreed to carry outmy instructions. Presently I heard a rending, as of a box being brokenopen; then succeeded a silence of several minutes, and finally--to myjoy--I saw the lad cautiously peeping over the window sill. Promptly Imade a show of climbing down, energetically shaking the foliage as Ifelt my way to the lower branches. My movement had the desired effect;the tiger raised himself, growled, and, evidently believing that he hadme, down he dropped with a "thud" to the ground. The coast was clearfor Jimmy!

  "Now, Jimmy!" I shouted, frantically reclimbing upward and inward, "outyou get! He's down below!"

  Quick as thought Jimmy slipped out the rifle and belt and proceeded tofollow them. With my attention divided between him and the man-eater, Iwaited in desperate expectancy, but try as he would, the boy could notpass through! He essayed head first, then legs first, then this way,then that way; no, he failed! In my anxiety I had momentarily takenmy eyes off the animal to watch Jimmy. On recollecting myself, andlooking down again, the brute was nowhere to be seen! Merciful heaven!where had he gone? I peered on all sides, striving to probe the gloombeyond the rays of my still burning lantern, but I could not see him;the monster had vanished! While a sensation of superstitious terrorthreatened to overwhelm me, a smothered ejaculation of triumph camefrom Jimmy; I glanced eagerly in his direction, to find that he had atlast succeeded in getting out! He was in the act of dropping to theveranda roof, when the scrambling, scratching sound which I had oncebefore heard that night smote on my ear; the disappearance of the tigerwas no longer a mystery: he was climbing the wood heap!

  "Jimmy!" I shrieked, "get back! For your life get back! The tiger'sclimbing the stack!"

  Whether the boy heard me, understood me, or not, or had taken leave ofhis senses, I could not tell, for, instead of obeying me, he clutchedboth rifle and belt, and floundered down the slope toward the tree!At the same moment I saw that the tiger had gained the roof, and wasapproaching as fast as he could!

  "Back! For mercy's sake, back!" I yelled despairingly; but the nextinstant the lad--after giving a hasty glance at the tiger--putforth all his young strength and hurled the rifle in my direction.Mechanically I managed to seize the piece as it crashed into thebranches; the belt followed; I secured it, and then the plucky boy,scurrying up the inclined roof, hauled himself to the window andwriggled through the aperture not half a second before the man-eatergot up to it! Intensely relieved at Jimmy's miraculous escape, andburning with fury against the accursed animal--the cause of all ourtrouble--I simply sat there and sent bullet after bullet into his vilecarcass, continuing the fusillade till he lay limp and lifeless on theveranda roof!

  No more need be said. I loved that boy, who had shown a courage andnerve beyond the wildest dreams of fancy. I love him now as a man, witha reputation for cool pluck and presence of mind, the promise of whichhe so signally exhibited on the occasion of my story. When Mr. Simpsonreturned, and I told him all, the satisfaction I derived by seeing thetears of admiration that dimmed his eyes as I described his son'sgallantry more than compensated me for my own somewhat unpleasant sharein that ever memorable adventure.