Nizams Daughters mh-2

by Allan Mallinson

  Hervey had entertained a notion of killing his own tiger and sending the skin home to Horningsham — just as he had pictured Midshipman Nelson battling with the polar bear so as to send the skin to his father at Burnham Thorpe.

  ‘If I were you, Hervey,’ said Selden on hearing this, ‘I should put the notion from your mind. I have been on perhaps a dozen tiger hunts and only once did the enterprise come off without mishap. The rajah was almost killed last year when his most practised elephant went must. Now, let us return to the king of sports. If you are gooming, then it does not matter so much, but if you are hunting hog properly then there are certain observances. First, we don’t as a rule hunt pig that is not full-grown — two feet at the shoulder at least — unless the villagers say their crops are being sorely ravaged.’

  ‘How big can pig grow?’ asked Hervey, already surprised by the idea of one standing even two feet at the shoulder.

  ‘I have killed one that measured forty inches.’

  Hervey made a rapid calculation, and concluded that such a pig, if it were to charge him on this pony, would gore him in his thigh, and almost certainly would be heavy enough to bowl them both over.

  ‘The biggest pig in India are to be found in these parts, although Nagpore has recorded the largest — forty-four inches, I believe it was.’

  Hervey wished he had his carbine with him. He did not suppose the sabre at his side would make much of an impression on a boar that size.

  ‘Once a pig is flushed then the nearest man must get onto his line at once and press him for all he’s worth. If he gets his wind he’ll take you a long way, and you’ll need to settle down to his pace and keep close. You’ve got to see the ground — waving grass, dust and the like — to keep you on his line. Believe me, it’s a lot more than merely chasing like a lunatic.’

  ‘And how is the lance used?’

  ‘It’s not a lance, rather a spear. And different ways are favoured depending on what country you’re hunting in. A decade or so ago you would only see throwing-spears, but now it’s the practice to close with the hog and spear him from the saddle. In Chintal, for the most part, a short spear is carried, and used overhand for jobbing. There’s much thick cover, and it’s generally preferred if a pig charges. In open country, such as that in the Bombay presidency and in the north, the long spear, couched, is better. In Chintal we usually have a couple of long spears out, too, for they can be handy when a boar is running away in the open.’

  ‘I imagine that one can carry through the weight of the horse’s speed better in the long spear,’ suggested Hervey.

  ‘Ah, but it’s a mistake to think that brute strength is all. With a jobbing spear it should be more the rapier than the bludgeon. The merest touch through the heart or the lungs — or, indeed, the spine — ought to be sufficient. But more of spears anon. I want only today to show you how a sounder breaks and how to get onto the line of a good-size boar.’

  As they came through to the far edge of the sugar cane, Selden had just embarked on an explanation of riding second in the hunt. He was intent on emphasizing the sovereign importance, in awkward ground or thick cover, of riding wide or behind the spear who was on the pig to give him all the time he needed. ‘But as soon as the pig’s into easier country you must challenge the man who is “on” at once. Make the pace as hot as you can! You may override the odd young boar who doesn’t know when to make for cover, but you’ll kill more pig that way than by trying to wear him down.’

  ‘I cannot wait!’ declared Hervey, wishing they were carrying spears now.

  So intent on his instruction was Selden that what happened next took him wholly by surprise. A big old boar — Hervey’s weight and then half again — burst from the cane to their left and took off across the kadir like a greyhound on a hare. Hervey (or perhaps it was his pony) did not hesitate for a second, and they were at full stretch in less than a dozen strides. Selden was close behind, however, shouting for him to ride on a loose rein. He had, in any case, instinctively begun to do so, for even in the relatively open country into which the pig was heading there was little he could see of the ground as it came at him.

  After half a mile the boar ran into a cotton-field. Hervey checked for an instant to be sure of its line, for he could not see any of the grass moving. Then he saw the merest, but tell-tale, waving ahead and to his right, and he spurred his pony to flatten out once more, leaning so far forward himself as to be almost head to head with it. Out onto the plain rushed the boar again. Hervey began to make up ground but there was another patch of dhak ahead and off to the right. He saw the boar check, as if trying to decide whether to turn for it. The instinct was too strong merely to continue chasing, and he reached for his sabre. The pig’s momentary hesitation cost it the distance over his pursuer, and as it jinked right for the dhak Hervey managed to give him the point of his sword in the loins.

  ‘Spear well forward next, Hervey!’ shouted Selden, close up behind and already turning for the dhak. ‘He’ll crouch in that cover. Go through and wait for him to break the other side. I’ll wait to see if he doubles back.’

  Hervey galloped round the dhak to take post in a nullah beyond. His pony was blowing, but still, he sensed, she had plenty in reserve. He had yet to accustom himself to her lack of shoulder, though, and he scolded himself for misjudging his sabring, for he had put his leg on precisely at the moment of driving home the thrust, and the mare had not responded as would Jessye. He would have liked to dismount to give her a little respite, but he knew enough not to. He was not there more than a minute when the boar, squatting close by but unobserved, jumped up and charged. Though Selden had not got so far in his instruction as to explain how to take a charging pig, Hervey swung round instinctively to meet it at an angle rather than head-on, and dug his spurs hard into his pony’s flanks. Even though her momentum would have been nothing to that of Selden’s Turkoman, the sabre went deep into the boar’s shoulder. But still it fought, and he had to struggle for all he was worth to keep his leg on, pressing the pony up close to use the weight to hold off the furious animal.

  The struggle seemed to last an age, with no sign of the boar’s weakening. Until Selden galloped up and gave him a thrust with his own sabre. The pig staggered and then fell dead with Hervey’s sword still deep in his shoulder. Indeed, when Hervey dismounted and pulled it out there was more than a foot of grease on the blade.

  ‘Hervey, let that be a lesson to you. I wonder that your sword didn’t break. Mine has not been out of its scabbard except to salute since coming here, and I shouldn’t have wished to trust to its tensility!’

  Hervey smiled sheepishly.

  ‘But by heavens, what a run you gave him! He’s no squeaker, and he had a lifetime of rancour in him — of that there’s no doubt. I’ll be able to tell the rajah that you tackled a boar without benefit of a spear. He’ll be mightily stirred if I am not much mistaken. And his daughter, the raj kumari — she’ll be gratified her best pony rode so faithfully.’

  Hervey looked pleased. ‘And what do we now do with our quarry?’

  Selden pointed to the village a quarter of a mile away. ‘They shall have pig for the rest of the week. Come, let’s go and tell them. We shall drink their rus while they bear him in, and wait for them to cut and boil out the tushes. See, I reckon those will be all of nine inches. The raj kumari will be much favoured by them.’ And then another thought occurred to him: ‘Hervey, why don’t you return with me to Chintalpore to make these presents in person? The place will quite beguile you!’

  VIII. DESPATCHES

  To Lieutenant-Colonel Colquhoun

  Grant at The Embassy of His

  Britannic Majesty

  Paris

  c/o Fort George

  Madras

  28 February 1816

  Sir,

  I have the honour to report my arrival in India. My ship had perforce to put into Madras for repairs and during her inactivity I availed myself of a most opportune re-acquaintance which has placed me
within the state of Chintal very considerably earlier than might otherwise have been arranged.

  I report that predatory bands of Maratha horse are marauding along the Eastern Circars but, from accounts I have, they do not trouble the Nizam’s territories, nor very greatly that of the Rajah of Chintal. I have it on the same and other authorities that the Nizam’s forces are formidable and respected, and that especially he is well served by artillery.

  I have further to report that I am in contact with Mr Selden and shall be proceeding with him soon directly to the Rajah’s capital at Chintalpore. I am very mindful that my orders are to report first to Mr Bazzard in Calcutta, and I shall, of course, communicate with him at once, but the opportunity presented by my encountering Mr Selden is one which I feel sure you would wish me to avail myself of, for it is probable that I shall shortly make the acquaintance of the Nizam himself since His Highness is to visit with the Rajah. I have accounts, by officials of the Honourable East India Company, that relations between the Nizam and the Rajah are infelicitous. However, by Mr Selden’s own accounts, relations are — if not cordial — sufficiently tolerable. I believe — though I may only surmise — that this disparity of opinion is occasioned by the want of intelligence available to Madras, for it seems that Haidarabad and Chintal are interests of Calcutta’s rather than of the former. I have to report, however, that there appears to be certain resentment between Fort George and Fort William which may stand in the way of unity of effort in terms of intelligence.

  This must therefore be but a brief account of my assessments so far. I pray that this fortuitous beginning shall yield full and timely results, and with little attention drawn to His Grace’s agency here.

  I remain, Sir, Your Most Obedient Servant

  M. P. Hervey

  Captain

  From the Deputy Commissioner of Kistna, Guntoor the Collector of Land Revenues, and Magistrate

  To The Governor’s Secretary Fort George Madras

  2 March 1816

  Sir,

  Be pleased to lay before the Governor at the earliest opportunity this assessment of the recent incursions into the Company’s territory of the Eastern Circars by the irregular Maratha horse become known as Pindarees. At attachment is a schedule of depredations, together with the relief authorized.

  In all probability the route of the incursion lay through Nagpore, and it is most evident therefore that that country is enfeebled to a degree alarming to the Company’s peace. My agents report that the Rajah of that place is so enfeebled as to be incapable of exerting his dominion. His son is but an imbecile and a prey to the most malevolent influences. It is my very strongest recommendation that the treaty of subsidiary alliance be advanced as rapidly as possible ere the country descends to lawlessness, and I urge you most fervently to press upon Fort William the absolute imperative of concluding the said. For the present time I urge that the subsidiary force be assembled in anticipation of said conclusion so that not the least time is lost in bringing Nagpore under regulation.

  I have in the past urged a similar course with Chintal and my entreaties have been met with ill favour at Fort William on account of their conviction that Chintal represented no threat as a conduit for Pindaree attacks upon the Circars, neither that the Nizam retained any ambitions towards attaching that country to his own by force of arms. I must tell you now that my agents report most emphatically that the Nizam is about to begin a campaign against Chintal by subversion and intimidation. I do not have to tell you how parlous would be the condition of Madras, and the Circars, were such a unity to be opposed to the policies of the Company at some time in the future, for it would render mutual support of the two Presidencies by land most perilous. I therefore urge once more that Chintal, as Nagpore, be pressed to conclude a subsidiary alliance, if necessary on terms unusually advantageous. The situation, believe me, is very grave.

  I have the honour to be etc etc

  Eyre Somervile C.B.

  IX. THE RAJAH OF CHINTAL

  Chintalpore, 25 February

  Half a mile west of the city, the Rajah of Chintal’s palace sat prettily on a shallow hill just visible from the rooftops of the humblest dwellings of Chintalpore — imposing, therefore, rather than dominating. It had been built in the middle of the seventeenth century on the birth of the rajah’s great-grandfather, whose own father had visited the water gardens of Italy and had wished to create fountains and cascades of like grace. He had therefore excavated a canal to take water to his new seat from the tributary of the Godavari on which Chintalpore stood, and the palace’s precise elevation was determined by the Venetian engineer who had laid out the gardens. The rajah’s ancestor had thereby sacrificed the eminence of a hilltop situation for the elegance of a less elevated one. It was a compromise of which successive generations had approved. At least, that is, to this time, for the present rajah was without male issue.

  The palace itself was an eclectic structure, a mix of Hindoo and Mughal architecture in which domes and pyramidal roofs stood harmoniously side by side — symbolic of the harmony in which the Mussulman population of Chintalpore lived with their more populous Hindoo neighbours. Everywhere there was marble and alabaster, some of it almost pure white, but some richly veined with a shade of red that Hervey would have been hard put to describe. There was a tranquillity, in part wrought by the continuous tinkling of water in the fountains, inside and out, which stood in the starkest contrast to the city through which he had just ridden. And, though the heat outdoors was hardly oppressive in this early month, he found the cool shade the greatest relief after their long march.

  ‘ “High on a throne of royal state, which far outshone the wealth of Ormus and Ind…”?’ he declaimed, turning to Selden with a smile.

  ‘You are beginning to sound like Major Edmonds.’

  ‘I had all Milton’s works with me during the passage.’

  ‘You suppose this is paradise, then: you shall have to wait and see.’

  They had been met at the foot of the droog, the great earth ramp that led to the palace, by the rissaldar of the rajah’s life guard and thence borne by palanquin to the turreted gates which commanded the ascent. Here they observed the customary propitiatory offering to Pollear, the protecting deity of pilgrims and travellers. One of the bearers stopped before the gates and, with considerable ceremony, silently unwound his turban. Then, giving one end to another bearer, he placed himself the other side of the gateway so that the turban was stretched across the entrance at about waist height. Hervey and Locke, at Selden’s urging, placed some silver into the outstretched palms of the bearers before passing over the lowered tape and through the portals into the courtyard.

  They were shown to their quarters at once — high, airy rooms with fretted windows overlooking the water gardens — for it was afternoon and the household followed the custom of retiring until the sun had fallen half-way to the horizon, even in this cooler season.

  ‘Nimbu pani, sahib?’ said the khitmagar, indicating a silver ewer in a cooling tray.

  ‘Mehrbani,’ replied Hervey, pleased at last to be able to say ‘thank you’ in a native tongue.

  The khitmagar filled a silver cup, placed it on a tray by his side and took his leave with a low bow.

  Lime juice, sweetened, with something giving it an edge: it was a prompt restorative. Selden had said they would have the afternoon to themselves, until seven, when the rajah would show them his gardens and menagerie and then feast them with the honour due to those who had saved one of his most favoured elephants. And if Hervey had been in any doubt as to the veneration in which the rajah held the elephant then the number and magnificence of the carvings of that animal about the palace would soon convince him. So, with Selden’s assurance that he would be called to bathe an hour before the appointed time, he lay down on the wide divan and gave himself to the pleasure of rest.

  His Highness Godaji Rao Sundur, the Rajah of Chintalpore, spoke English with clear, precise diction, and without the inflections of oth
er than an educated Englishman. Selden had told him that the rajah had had both an English nurse and governess, and a tutor from Cambridge, though he had travelled little beyond the frontiers of his princely state — except, in his youth, for a journey through the Ottoman domains to Rome, whose history enthralled him and whose religion still intrigued him. Although his native tongue was Telugu, the language of the majority of his Hindoo subjects, he was fluent in Urdu, and he even had a very passable acquaintance with French. But he preferred to converse in English, and many of Chintal’s officials were proficient, too. Indeed, with so many languages alive in Chintalpore, it was almost impossible for a visitor not to be able to make himself understood. The rajah’s daughter, Her Highness Suneyla Rao Sundur — the raj kumari — had likewise learned English at her nursemaid’s knee, but she had retained a religious sensibility — said Selden — that was wholly native. So native, indeed, as to be unfathomable, for, he confessed, after all his years in India he was still unable to give any account of what the Hindoo religion truly held to. The rajah, he believed, was at heart a good man, but for the raj kumari he could not speak, for she would never converse with him other than of mundane matters.

  The rajah was all ease at their meeting. He greeted Hervey as if he were the saviour of one of his children, and Henry Locke hardly less. ‘In my father’s day, gentlemen, such an act as the rescue of a royal elephant would have been rewarded by the gift of a dozen virgins,’ he smiled; ‘but I much regret that I must offer you less than that.’