Page 42 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)
They moved on beyond the village into a high-sided valley of dense jungle, the elephants having to trample down the undergrowth to make a path.
In the heat and with the swaying motion of Rose, Adela was lulled almost to sleep when a cry went up from the front of the procession.
She started awake. There was a commotion among the trackers.
Wesley reached for his double-barrelled shotgun.
‘Is it a tiger?’ she gasped.
Rose padded forward after the other elephants.
She swung her trunk at a low branch and pulled something away.
The mahout leant forward and took it, holding it up for inspection.
It was a shred of red-and-white cotton. He shouted something to the men ahead.
There was a quick-fire exchange. The procession halted.
‘What’s happening?’ Wesley asked.
The mahout answered, ‘They have found the drag.’
‘Of the boar?’
‘No, the villager.’
Adela’s stomach churned. She knew what he meant by ‘drag’: the remains of the kill that the tiger had dragged away to hide and feast on when hungry again.
‘Oh dear God!’ Wesley exclaimed. ‘Adela, you mustn’t look.’
She stared again at the cloth in the mahout’s hand; it was a bloodied piece of clothing.
Suddenly the joy drained out of the day.
This was someone’s father or brother or son, carried off and eaten by a savage predator; she could only imagine the terror of the hapless victim as he’d fought in vain for his life.
They carried on, the Raja ordering one of his men to alert the villagers to come and claim the remains of their neighbour. Adela averted her eyes as they passed, but not in time to avoid catching an unwanted glimpse of a legless torso with its clothes ripped away. She thought she might be sick.
‘We must kill the tiger before this happens again,’ she said with vehemence.
‘We will,’ her father promised.
Soon afterwards, they emerged on to a dried-up riverbed.
It was strewn with boulders and small islands covered in scraggy trees between isolated pools of water.
The head of the river disappeared into a steep ravine; the line of elephants plodded towards it.
At the point where a narrower defile cut into the right-hand slope, they halted.
Word came back that this was where the boar had been killed.
Now a young buffalo stood there, tied up as bait for the tigers.
At the mouth of the smaller ravine, the shikaris had been busy erecting machans– hideouts– in the overhanging trees, from which the hunters could survey the hunted.
Behind, the slope rose steeply to a ridge just above the height of the trees.
Rose knelt down and helped the passengers to the ground with her trunk.
Adela hardly had time to stretch before her father was chivvying her up the rope ladder into one of the makeshift bamboo cradles.
It was hardly bigger than a child’s cot, but Wesley squeezed in with her.
They covered themselves with leaves and waited.
Stourton took the next machan, Jay the one beyond, while Rafi and the Raja went to the other side of the ravine and disappeared into the trees.
The heat was oppressive. Nothing stirred, not even the docile buffalo tethered to its tree. They sat completely still. After a while Adela’s legs grew numb from pins and needles and she longed to move.
‘Is it him?’ her father whispered. Adela met his look. Sweat trickled down his face. ‘Is Prince Sanjay the man who trifled with your affections?’
She could barely breathe. She closed her eyes. Not now; she didn’t want this conversation now.
‘I know I’m right,’ he hissed. ‘I can tell by the little comments he makes– the innuendoes. I could punch his arrogant face.’
‘Don’t, Dad,’ Adela pleaded. ‘Don’t let him spoil our trip.’
Just then there was a cry from a deer further up the ravine, and birds flew up from the tightly packed bushes.
Something was on the move. They went deadly still.
The grass stirred, yet there was no breeze.
The tiger was so well camouflaged in the pattern of light and shade between the trees that Adela didn’t see it till it was almost right below them, a huge male about nine feet long.
The magnificent beast crept forward, tail twitching, sniffing at the elephant tracks.
The buffalo began to bellow and twist in its ropes.
The tiger gazed around, swiftly crouched, ready to spring.
A shot went off like a deafening firecracker.
The tiger dropped to the ground, a bullet lodged in its neck.
‘Got it!’ shouted the Resident. ‘Bloody well got the beast.’
‘Good shot, Stourton,’ Jay called.
The shikaris appeared from among the elephants to survey the tiger, making a din with whistles and firing off into the air to make sure that any other tiger or wild animal was chased away before the hunters descended from the machans. The Resident was cock-a-hoop with his kill.
‘Rafi, take a photograph of Stourton with his tiger,’ the Raja ordered.
Stourton posed, rifle in hand and foot on the head of the beast, while Rafi took shots with his box camera.
It made Adela think of Sam and his passion for taking pictures.
She had thrown away all but one of the photos he had left for her at Fluffy Hogg’s; she couldn’t bear to be reminded of those happy, innocent times in Narkanda.
Yet she hadn’t been able to bring herself to part with the one of her and Sam leaning against the veranda balustrade, arms touching as they smiled down at Fatima.
She stared in awe at the huge muscled tiger, with its jaws locked in a snarl at the point of death.
It had white patches above its eyes that looked like another pair of eyes staring blindly up at them.
Its teeth were like daggers and its claws curved like deadly miniature kukris.
Her heart banged in relief to be so near a tiger that could no longer harm them, yet she felt a stab of pity for the animal.
Her pet Molly, long ago released into the jungle, would now be a fully-grown tiger trying to outwit hunters like them.
There was much animated discussion about how best to transport the hefty animal back to camp without damaging its magnificent pelt.
‘It’ll make a wonderful rug for Mama’s hearth at home,’ said Stourton. ‘I’ll keep the head for my bungalow– get it sent to Van Ingen’s to have it stuffed.’
With the help of half a dozen shikaris, the dead beast was loaded on the back of an elephant and transported back to camp. The hunting party retreated to the nearby village for a late tiffin.
‘We could shoot some partridge or blackbuck on our way back to camp,’ suggested Kishan.
‘We can’t go back yet,’ Jay protested. ‘There’s still the tigress out there– and she’s the dangerous one.’
His uncle gave a weary laugh. ‘We’ll return to the ravine tomorrow and hunt her down.’
‘She might have gone by then,’ said Jay. ‘This could be our only chance.’
‘Your uncle is tired,’ Rafi said.
‘No one who is tired needs to stay,’ Jay said, ‘but some of us have plenty of appetite for more shikar. Don’t we, Adela?’
She jolted at his sudden attention on her. Before she could answer, Jay went on persuasively, ‘And you haven’t had a chance to fire a shot yet. This shikar is especially for your birthday, is it not?’
‘You are right, Sanjay,’ said Kishan. ‘Stourton was most ungallant for bagging Miss Robson’s tiger.’
‘I’m awfully sorry.’ The Resident looked sheepish.
‘No, really, I don’t mind at all,’ Adela assured him.
‘But you must be allowed to stay longer if you wish it,’ the Raja insisted.
‘What do you say, Adela?’ Jay challenged. ‘Shall we go back and see if the tigress has returned for the bait?’
She didn’t want Jay to think her weak, and she did want the chance to shoot at the man-eater.
‘Yes, let’s,’ she agreed.
‘Are you sure?’ Wesley gave her a warning look.
Ignoring it, she smiled. ‘Yes, I am. This might be my one chance of bagging a tiger before going back to England.’
‘Then I will come with you both,’ Wesley declared, casting a stormy look at the prince.
‘There’s no need,’ said Jay. ‘Your daughter is quite grown-up enough to look after herself.’
‘No doubt of that,’ said Wesley, ‘but I’m not letting her out of my sight on this trip. I promised her mother that.’ He gave a tight smile.
The Raja, Rafi and Stourton set off back to camp, the latter in a state of exhilaration and keen to oversee the gutting and beheading of his tiger. Adela, Wesley and Jay took a smaller number of shikaris and set off in the other direction.
‘Be back by nightfall,’ the Raja called out. ‘We’ll have a celebratory dinner!’
Back at the machans, Jay declared they should each have their own hideout.
The heat was still intense and the large lunch had made Adela drowsy.
She must have fallen asleep because she was roused by the machan being shaken.
She sat up with a start. Was the tigress back?
Then she realised someone was climbing the rope ladder up to her machan.
‘Jay,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Coming to get you,’ he whispered with a soft chuckle.
Her heart began to pound. Had her father seen him? He was so stealthy that she assumed not. She couldn’t see her father’s machan, each of them hidden in the thick foliage.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she hissed.
‘I’ve been trying to get you alone all day, but your father is far too possessive.’ He dropped in beside her, jamming his gun in the corner. ‘I’ve missed you, Adela.’
‘Not enough to let me know what had happened to you,’ she accused. ‘Have you any idea the worry you put me through?’
He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m glad you care that much about me.’
‘But you don’t care an ounce about me,’ Adela said.
‘I do,’ he insisted, ‘but the situation was very difficult for me. I had to get out of Nerikot without anyone knowing, or I might have been arrested.’