The Other Was Heard Moaning
For A Long Time, And When His Terrified Companions
At Last Summoned Up Sufficient Courage
To go to
his assistance, they found him stuck fast in the
bushes of the boma, through which for once
The
lion had apparently been unable to drag him.
He was still alive when I saw him next morning,
but so terribly mauled that he died before he could
be got to the hospital.
Within a few days of this the two brutes made
a most ferocious attack on the largest camp in the
section, which for safety's sake was situated within
a stone's throw of Tsavo Station and close to
a Permanent Way Inspector's iron hut. Suddenly
in the dead of night the two man-eaters
burst in among the terrified workmen, and even
from my boma, some distance away, I could
plainly hear the panic-stricken shrieking of the
coolies. Then followed cries of "They've taken
him; they've taken him," as the brutes carried off
their unfortunate victim and began their horrible
feast close beside the camp. The Inspector,
Mr. Dalgairns, fired over fifty shots in the
direction in which he heard the lions, but they
were not to be frightened and calmly lay there
until their meal was finished. After examining
the spot in the morning, we at once set out to
follow the brutes, Mr. Dalgairns feeling confident
that he had wounded one of them, as there was
a trail on the sand like that of the toes of a
broken limb. After some careful stalking, we
suddenly found ourselves in the vicinity of the
lions, and were greeted with ominous growlings.
Cautiously advancing and pushing the bushes
aside, we saw in the gloom what we at first took
to be a lion cub; closer inspection, however,
showed it to be the remains of the unfortunate
coolie, which the man-eaters had evidently
abandoned at our approach. The legs, one arm
and half the body had been eaten, and it was the
stiff fingers of the other arm trailing along the
sand which had left the marks we had taken to
be the trail of a wounded lion. By this time
the beasts had retired far into the thick jungle
where it was impossible to follow them, so
we had the remains of the coolie buried and once
more returned home disappointed.
Now the bravest men in the world, much less
the ordinary Indian coolie, will not stand
constant terrors of this sort indefinitely. The
whole district was by this time thoroughly panic-stricken,
and I was not at all surprised, therefore,
to find on my return to camp that same
afternoon (December 1) that the men had all
struck work and were waiting to speak to me.
When I sent for them, they flocked to my boma
in a body and stated that they would not remain
at Tsavo any longer for anything or anybody;
they had come from India on an agreement to
work for the Government, not to supply food for
either lions or "devils." No sooner had they
delivered this ultimatum than a regular stampede
took place. Some hundreds of them stopped
the first passing train by throwing themselves on
the rails in front of the engine, and then,
swarming on to the trucks and throwing in
their possessions anyhow, they fled from the
accursed spot.
After this the railway works were completely
stopped; and for the next three weeks practically
nothing was done but build "lion-proof" huts for
those workmen who had had sufficient courage
to remain. It was a strange and amusing sight
to see these shelters perched on the top of
water-tanks, roofs and girders - anywhere for
safety - while some even went so far as to dig pits
inside their tents, into which they descended at
night, covering the top over with heavy logs of
wood. Every good-sized tree in the camp had
as many beds lashed on to it as its branches
would bear - and sometimes more. I remember
that one night when the camp was attacked,
so many men swarmed on to one particular tree
that down it came with a crash, hurling its
terror-stricken load of shrieking coolies close to
the very lions they were trying to avoid. Fortunately
for them, a victim had already been
secured, and the brutes were too busy devouring
him to pay attention to anything else.
CHAPTER VII
THE DISTRICT OFFICER'S NARROW ESCAPE
Some little time before the flight of the
workmen, I had written to Mr. Whitehead, the
District Officer, asking him to come up and assist
me in my campaign against the lions, and to
bring with him any of his askaris (native soldiers)
that he could spare. He replied accepting the
invitation, and told me to expect him about
dinner-time on December 2, which turned out to
be the day after the exodus. His train was
due at Tsavo about six o'clock in the evening,
so I sent my "boy" up to the station to meet
him and to help in carrying his baggage to the
camp. In a very short time, however, the
"boy" rushed back trembling with terror, and
informed me that there was no sign of the train
or of the railway staff, but that an enormous lion
was standing on the station platform. This
extraordinary story I did not believe in the
least, as by this time the coolies - never remarkable
for bravery - were in such a state of fright
that if they caught sight of a hyena or a baboon,
or even a dog, in the bush, they were sure to
imagine it was a lion; but I found out next day
that it was an actual fact, and that both stationmaster
and signalman had been obliged to take
refuge from one of the man-eaters by locking
themselves in the station building.
I waited some little time for Mr. Whitehead,
but eventually, as he did not put in an appearance,
I concluded that he must have postponed his
journey until the next day, and so had my
dinner in my customary solitary state.
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