Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 18th century -- Fiction; Nore Mutiny, 1797 -- Fiction
As they advanced, beating with their long poles, and preserving a
straight and compact line, through which nothing could escape, so did
the jungle before them increase its motion; and soon the yells of
thousands of men were answered by the roars and cries of thousands of
brute animals. It was not, however, until the game had been driven so
near to the end of the jungle at which the hunters were stationed, and
until they were huddled together so close that it could no longer
contain them, that they unwillingly abandoned it. The most timorous,
the rabbit and the hare, and all the smaller tribes, first broke cover,
and were allowed to pass unnoticed; but they were soon followed by the
whole mass, who, as if by agreement among themselves, had determined at
once to decide their fate.
Crowded in incongruous heaps, without any distinction of species or of
habits, now poured out the various denizens of the woods--deer in every
variety, locking their horns in their wild confusion; the fierce
wild-boars, bristling in their rage; the bounding leopards; the swift
antelope, of every species; the savage panthers; jackals, and foxes, and
all the screaming and shrieking infinities of the monkey tribe.
Occasionally, amongst the dense mass could be perceived the huge
boa-constrictor, rolling in convolutions--now looking back with fiery
eyes upon his pursuers, now precipitating his flight--while the air was
thronged with its winged tenants, wildly screaming, and occasionally
dropping down dead with fear. To crown the whole, high in the expanse,
a multitude of vultures appeared, almost stationary on the wing, waiting
for their share of the anticipated slaughter. And as the beasts threw
down and rolled over each other in their mad career, you might have
fancied from the universal terror which prevailed, that it was a day of
judgment to which the inhabitants had been summoned.
It was not a day of mercy. The slaughter commenced; shot after shot
laid them in the dust, while the natives, on their Arabians, charged
with their spears into the thickest of the crowd, regardless of the risk
which they encountered from the muskets of other parties. The baying of
the large dogs, who tore down their victims, the din occasionally
increased by the contention and growls of the assailed, the yells of the
natives, and the shrill cries of the elephants, raised, in obedience to
their conductors, to keep the more ferocious animals at a distance,
formed a scene to which no pen can do justice. In a few minutes all was
over; those who had escaped were once more hid, panting, in the
neighbouring jungles, while those who had fallen covered the ground, in
every direction, and in every variety.
"Very fine tiger-hunt, sar," observed the interpreter to Courtenay, with
exultation.
"Very fine indeed: Seymour, this is something like a battue. What would
some of your English sportsmen have given to have been here? But,
interpreter, I don't see any tigers."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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