N. Francis Xavier, Part XVI (Continued from last week)

It was a sleepless night that Cadell spent in the bungalow on the Harriet peak. In spite of the three large pegs of whisky followed by a large dinner of roast venison he could not sleep. The sight of Hemraj’s name on the rock upset him. He was also intrigued by the names of other British Officers who had carved their names or initials on Kala Pathar. “Was it superstition, or some kind of ritual?” he wondered.

Cadell was particularly struck by the initials ‘J.P.W.’. Could they be of James Pattison Walker, the first Superintendent of the settlement? Was he the first to carve his name on the black rock? Cadell remembered him as the famous Jail Superintendent of the Agra Prison at the time of the Mutiny.

Walker too had to contend with escapes like him. His solution was mass hangings. Walker held a sort of record for the largest number of hangings in a single day — 86. “That’s the best solution, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll erect a gallows with 11 nooses and hang Hemraj and his friends on the same day”, Cadell thought.

Thoughts of the execution slated for the next morning further worried him. It was an unpleasant task, but necessary. Kangal was a known offender. He deserved the death sentence.

A glorious Sun broke over Mount Harriet. The air was filled with the chirping of thousands of birds. Bulbuls, mynahs, green pigeons, parakeets…all heralded the morning.

Col. Cadell sipped the tea served by a uniformed orderly. How could a place like this be called a place of punishment! A penal colony! This could be paradise.
Lt. H.A. Deane, the District Superintendent of Police who accompanied him came out of his suite. Cadell ordered tea for him also.

Deane was from the 1st Punjab Cavalry. A good horseman. Cadell always liked a good horseman. They understand man and beast better than ordinary people. Deane was far better than Birch, the frustrated Deputy Superintendent.

“Well, Lt. Deane, when shall we start?” Cadell said.

“The steam barge is already waiting for us at Hope Town jetty Sir. Breakfast will be served onboard. We shall head straight for Viper, finish the hanging business and return to Ross in time for lunch”, Deane replied.

Both men got up and mounted their horses. The long army of servants was already on the move. In less than half an hour they reached the jetty where the barge waited.

Meanwhile, on Viper Capt. Birch supervised the preparations for the hanging.

Kangal refused to come out of the condemned cell. He clung to the bars of the gate and had to be wrenched free by four warders. His head was shaved clean, leaving a small tuft at the back. A Brahmin convict recited some prayers and applied a sacred mark on his forehead. His hands were tied behind his back. The jailor and four warders led him inside the gallows.

Cadell’s barge touched Viper jetty. Cadell jumped off the boat and walked briskly to the red brick building. Capt. Birch, in a starched white uniform came to attention and saluted.

“Well, how’re the arrangements? Hope everything is organized”, Cadell asked.

“Sir, the condemned man has been brought to the gallows. The hangman is ready, waiting for your orders”.

Cadell and Birch followed by Lt. Deane and some warders started up the steep climb towards the gallows.

Seeing the boat Salim, the hangman, had already taken Kangal inside the domed structure on the top of the hillock. For the last few steps Kangal had to be carried by the warders. He shivered with fright, mumbling the mantra the Brahmin taught him. The hangman, a burly ex-Thug, one of the few who escaped hanging by Col. Sleeman by turning approver, positioned Kangal on the trapdoor, under the beam from which a noose hung down.

Cadell entered the room, with the death warrant in his hand.

“Convict Kangal, @ Janki …you are hereby sentenced to suffer death by hanging for the attempted murder of Nihal. Your petition for clemency has been turned down by the Governor General. Therefore you shall hang by the neck until you are dead. Have you anything to say?

Kangal’s quivering lips muttered what could have been an obscenity. Salim moved over and placed the noose around his neck. Then he clasped his hands and begged forgiveness from Kangal, saying that he was only performing his duty.

A white hood was placed on Kangal’s head. A thin line of piss started running down the side of one of his legs, spreading into a small pool on the planks.

Salim looked at Cadell. A silent signal passed between them. Salim bent down and removed the safety pin of the lever. He took a deep breath and suddenly pulled the lever. The twin leaves of the trap door fell away with a terrible crash. The men stared down into the pit expecting to see a motionless body hanging from the rope.

But Kangal did not die immediately. His legs thrashed under him as his body writhed in agony.

Something went wrong with the hanging. Perhaps the length of the rope was not fixed in accordance with Kangal’s body weight. The “long drop” system that Cadell had introduced did not appear to have worked.

They quickly clambered down to the ‘pit’. Salim ran to the writhing body and grasped both the legs. He hung on to them till all movement stopped.

“I could have done a better job with a simple silk hand-kerchief saaheb”, the ex-Thug said looking at Cadell with a grin. Dr. Rajendra Chandra Mitter, the third Medical Officer checked the body for any sign of life. The body was left hanging for the customary one hour.

The men made their way down to the hut near the jetty.

Capt. Birch produced a bottle of whisky and some glasses.

Cadell gulped down a large drink. “Hanging is a very humane punishment if it was carried out properly, much better than being trampled by elephants, flaying alive, impalement or beheadings practiced in the native states”, he said. “But there was a time in our country when public hangings were popular. My grandpa used to tell me that regular public hangings took place at Tyburn, near London. After the hanging the corpses were dissected by anatomists in full view of the public. Huge crowds used to gather to watch the hangings and even paid money for a ring-side view.”

He took another large swig. “I wish public executions were allowed in India”, he continued. “They serve as a good deterrent. And you, Salim, if you fail to hang a person properly the next time I’ll send you to Pentonville for the training programme for hangmen they have there, understood? Soon you’ll have to hang eleven men.”

“Aye aye sire”, Salim said, with a knowing smile. (To be continued….)

 

N. Francis Xavier
Part XV, (Continued from last week)

A brilliant sun rose over a glass-smooth sea. The men, lying sprawled in different postures on the bottom-boards of the whaler stirred slowly. They looked haggard. For almost three days they were tossed about by the hurricane. Their tiny craft was swamped many times by huge waves. Most of their supplies were swept away. They hardly had anything to eat, and just a little water to drink, rationed by Hemraj.

Hemraj too got up, and saw that the boat was drifting slowly towards the shore of an island visible in the distance. With all their sails blown away by the storm, and the men too weak to pull on the oars they could only wait for the current to take them to the shore. A patch of white sand was visible from the distance.

As they drew closer Hemraj recognized some features. The storm had blown them back among a cluster of islands named Ritchie’s Archipelago.

It was the last place Hemraj wanted to reach.

They were too close to Port Blair. There were aborigines on the islands who would easily betray them to Portman or Homfray.

The sight of land brought some cheer to the tired men. At least they could replenish their stores of food and water and set out again. By now the search would have started in various places all along the coast of India and Burma. No one would look for them so close to the Andamans.

The boat rode a gentle swell and nudged the sandy beach. The men slowly disembarked, pulling the boat with great effort into a narrow creek covered on either side by mangroves.
Even before they could tie it up Hemraj realize that it was not a creek but the impression of the keel of a large ship. Blocks of stones which must have formed the ballast of the ship were still visible. So were some timbers that survive the attack of borers but encrusted with mollusks.

Recognition dawned on Hemraj. By sheer coincidence the storm had deposited them on the same islands where two ships were wrecked in 1844.

Hemraj remembered the visit to John Lawrence Island with Portman.

They were looking for the relics of the twin wrecks that occurred on the island on 12 November 1844. Actually Portman was looking for the plaque with the names of the few people who died during the 55 days they were stranded on the Island when their ships were driven on to the shore during the terrible hurricane.

They found the steps cut into the stone leading to the encampment but there was no sign of the memorial plaque. There was no sign of the Runnymede. She was so totally broken up. But three anchors belonging to the Briton were seen, and a few timbers. The Andamanese took away all iron leaving the brass fittings.

Surgeon Gamack, who came to the Andamans with the first batch of convicts in March 1858 was on the Briton during the storm. He told Hemraj all about the incredible wreck.

The Briton sailed from Sydney in August 1844. It carried about four hundred crew and passengers consisting of soldiers of Her Majesty’s 80th Regiment of the Foot and their families, bound for Calcutta.

The Runnymede sailed from England in June 1944, also bound for Calcutta. She carried about two hundred people. Most were soldiers of Her Majesty’s 10th Regiment of the Foot.

Both ships were caught in the terrible storm that started on the 9th of November. Unknown to each other both were run aground on John Lawrence during the night of 11th November.

On 12th November 1844, when the day dawned the men on the ships, to their dismay, saw two ships driven among the mangroves, less than a mile from each other.

For three days they were tossed about in the sea, their masts broken, sails torn to shreds and leaking everywhere. But all the people survived.

Gamack described how Maj. Bunbury, the senior-most military officer swiftly declared military administration and organized the survivors into a camp by clearing the jungle.

The Briton was not badly damaged but had no stocks of food. The Runnymede was completely smashed up, but held fairly good stocks of food. All items that could be salvaged were placed under the control of the commanding officer. Food was rationed so that everyone got enough to last for at least a month.

The ships had carpenters and blacksmiths. Very soon a small boat was constructed. It was named the “Hope” and sent off to get help.

Discipline was maintained by imposing martial law and holding regular courts-martial. The men fished, shot birds and pigs, fought off the Andamanese and even raised a garden of vegetables.

There were fevers and accidents, but very few died – some due to fever and two by drowning.

A month after the wreck a ship of the East India Company came to the island. The Hope reached Mergui in Burma within twelve days. The news of the wreck was conveyed to the Government. Immediately the George Swinton, a schooner was sent to the Islands, with the Hope in tow.

By the time the rescue ship arrived the food stocks of the camp had dwindled to starvation levels. But Swinton brought rice, ghee, tea, sugar, salt fish and yams.

Gamack remembered celebrating Christmas with great festivity on that forlorn island. All tents were decorated with buntings and flags. A special plum pudding was prepared and served to all.

By the end of the month ships started coming to John Lawrence. In a well-organized operation the camps were struck and the people embarked on the ships.

As the ships were getting loaded with the stores the natives attacked the camp, but were scared away by firing cannon.

On 5th January 1845 all the people left, all 620 of them, leaving seven adults and a few children who died during the 55 days of their stay on the Island. They carved the names of the dead on a stone tablet and left it near the burial ground.

It was that tablet Portman came looking for. It was never found. Perhaps the Andamanese smashed it up.

The miraculous survival story made headlines in many Calcutta newspapers. Hemraj saw Portman having a copy of the “Englishman” of Calcutta with an account of the whole story.

Now that fate has deposited them again on the same island Hemraj quickly started preparations for their own survival. He knew the place where the camp was. There were wells dug by the survivors. They quickly made their way to the place and filled their water casks. The Andamanese were on the neighbouring Henry Lawrence Island. They must leave before they could be spotted by them. Traps set by Sheobrat yielded some pigs. The boat was repaired.

As a full moon rose above the sea with a gentle breeze the new ‘Hope’ of Hemraj glided off into the ocean. There will be no stops this time, till they reach their ‘promised land’. (To be continued….)

 

N. Francis Xavier
Part XIV, (Continued from last week)

Col. Thomas CadellVC, sat on the bed and pulled on his boots. A turbaned orderly helped him.

He was getting ready to visit some new places in his domain. He wanted to go to places which have not been visited by a Chief Commissioner till then so that he could include them in his monthly report. His predecessor, Lt. Gen. Barwell hardly stirred from the Government House. Cadell wanted to show that he was different. He had already visited many distant outposts, where convict settlements had come up.

Wherever he went the convict settlers and ticket-of-leave men came up to Col. Cadell and presented many petitions, and aired their grievances. Many spoke of the threat from the Jarawas.

“Some petition-writer is very active here”, Cadell thought.

That day he planned to go to Mt. Harriet, and then onwards to Kala Pathar, or the ‘Black Rock’. He heard that most of the officers wanted to carve their names on the rock. It became a kind of ritual. He too wanted to etch him name, for eternity.

Cadell’s horse had already been sent to Hope Town, on the other side of the bay.

Capt. Birch, the unofficial Aide de Camp came in unannounced. It was irritating how Birch barged in when he was not wanted. Cadell did not like his unsolicited comments. The servants didn’t like him either. Cadell came to know about the spat between Birch and another officer four years earlier, during Gen. Barwell’s time.

“Sir, I ordered an armed guard to follow you,” Birch announced.

“Capt. Birch, I told you that I don’t like much pomp and show. I want to meet the people and know about their problems. That would not be possible if there are too many officers and soldiers around,” Cadell shot back.

“Sir, we can’t take chances. You know what happened in 1872”.

Birch was obviously referring to the murder of Lord Mayo at Hope Town jetty during his visit to the Islands.

That further irritated Cadell.

“I know how to take care of myself Capt. Birch. You may see that I have packed one of the new revolvers, and I carry my sword always. Perhaps you know that I took part in the Siege of Delhi during the Great Uprising?”, Cadell said, while lifting his coat a bit to show the shiny holster with the revolver.

That silenced Birch.

“Well, any more news about Hemraj? What are my appointments for tomorrow”, Cadell asked.

“Sir, nothing was heard after the message we received from the Charlotte. But we’re expecting a ship from Rangoon tomorrow. We may get some mail in her”, Birch said. “And, sir, we have a hanging to be carried out tomorrow, that of Kangal @ Janki for the murder of Nihal”.

Cadell remembered the case. He had been asked to submit a report on the increasing number of attacks on warders. He had already prepared a draft reply. As the convicts did not appear to be afraid of being hanged he suggested that they be publicly flogged and then hanged. He hoped that it would act as a deterrent.

“OK then, you go to Viper, and make the necessary arrangements for the hanging. I’ll take Lt. Deane with me”, Cadell said, dismissing Birch.

He went down the steps to the porch where a liveried convict servant held the reins of a saddled pony. After he mounted it the servant led it by the reins to the jetty where his cutter was waiting, with its twelve Sikh oarsmen at the ready.

“Chalo”, Cadell said, as he took his seat in the stern. “Let’s go to Mt. Harriet.”

The oars dipped and rose as the men pulled away.

Cadell had known Harriet Tytler. They too were in Delhi during the Mutiny. RC Tytler was much older than him, but Harriet, his second wife, was quite young. They never thought they would one day be sent to rule over the same mutineers in a distant island penal colony.

After the fall of Delhi it was rumoured that the Tytlers came across huge wealth hidden in the walls of the abandoned houses and the palace of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal Emperor of India.

One of the items Col. Tytler grabbed from the old monarch was a crown. He took it to London and presented it to the Queen, expecting a huge reward. All that he got was the job of the Superintendent of Andamans.

The tenure of Col. Tytler in Andamans was known for its misgovernment and apathy towards the natives. When James Pratt, a sailor tried to rape an Andamanese woman and was killed by her husband at North Bay, Tytler ordered the village to be attacked and burnt down without investigating the matter. He was severely reprimanded for his actions by the Government and sent back.

Tytler’s only contribution was clearing the hill and naming it after his wife Harriet.

But Harriet was more accomplished than her husband. She had learnt the new art of photography from some famous photographers of the time, and produced some good collections relating to the Great Uprising of 1857.

His thoughts were interrupted when the boat gently bumped against Hope Town jetty. Lt. Deane, the District Superintendent of Police was already there with a saddled horse. The party started off immediately. Some more men accompanied them on foot and ponies.

Giant trees rose on either side of the narrow trail as it snaked through the tropical forest forming a thick canopy overhead. Huge lianas hung down from their branches like pythons. A few rays of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage. There was a chill in the air although it was midday. Everything was eerily silent except for an occasional shrill call of a parrot or the drumming of a woodpecker.

The trail seemed endless as it dipped and rose and again dipped into the evergreen forest.

In the bungalow on the top liveried servants served drinks and refreshments to the party. The horse and the ponies were left there and the party started out on foot in search of Kala Pathar.

After a considerable trek, suddenly, right in front of them they saw a huge black rock, worn smooth by the weather, with many names cut into its surface.

The first name Cadell saw was that of Hemraj, in Urdu, below the name of MV Portman and many others. Anger welled up inside Cadell. He took out his revolver and fired a shot at the despicable name. The bullet chipped off a bit of stone and ricocheted into the forest.
“Break off that part of the stone”, Cadell shouted to the men.

A man inserted a crow bar into the crack that ran along the surface. After a few attempts the stone gave way and crashed into the deep chasm below.

“Find a stone without any names where my initials could be carved”, Cadell told Lt. Deane. “I don’t want my name in the midst of all these ruffians”.

The sun started setting. The party decided they would retire to the bungalow for the night and complete the task the next day. ( To be continued….)

 

N. Francis Xavier
Part XIII, (Continued from last week)

The boom of the gun was followed by a terrible flash of lightning and earsplitting thunderclap. Hemraj understood that the lightning was right overhead as there was no delay in hearing the sound after the flash.

They were in no danger, but the tall ship was. Through the driving rain they saw what could be the Charlotte, the sailing ship that plied between Port Blair and Rangoon.

Charlotte was a three-master almost a hundred years old. However, it gave good service, in spite of being slow, as it was built entirely of wood, had no engines and needed simple maintenance. People who didn’t like the smoke and sound of the steam ships preferred to travel by Charlotte. It carried mostly cargo and a few convicts from Burma.

 

The tall masts of the Charlotte are vulnerable in a thunderstorm. If the lightning rods are not proper it may catch fire. The captain would not take the risk of pursuing them.

Hemraj knew that Charlotte would not be able to pursue them in the stormy seas. But it would certainly pass on the information to Port Blair. They must change course, but, they had come very far north. Their nearest landfall was Burma, where they would surely be caught as soon as they touch the shore. He must think quickly.

Even before he could make up his mind the storm broke out upon them with hurricane-like force. Waves rose like mountains. With reefed sails the men had to pull for their lives to scale the seas and plummet into the chasms on the other side. Hemraj took the tiller, knowing that he must turn the bows to face the waves as they come.

There was no knowing in which direction the boat was going. It was just survival.

In spite of all their mastery in handling the boat waves often broke over it. Two men baled out the water continuously with their lotas. Most of their supplies were lost. But Hemraj knew that the whaler was unsinkable, even if it gets filled up to the brim. The buoyancy compartments in the bows and stern kept her afloat. But if they are smashed against rocks it would crack like an eggshell.

By midnight the storm intensified further. Hemraj ordered the mainsail taken down. With the jib and the mizzen they could just manage to get some headway. The men were drenched to the bone and shivering. But the desire for freedom kept them at their stations.

‘It’s better to die smashed on the rocks than hang on the Viper gallows’, Hemraj yelled as he tried to maintain the boat on an even course.

The only way they could find their position would be when the sky clears or the sun breaks out.

Men frequently leaned over the side and threw up. Their stomachs were now empty. Even Hemraj was sea sick, for the first time in his life. He felt as if his insides would burst as waves of nausea hit him. But he kept telling the men to keep sipping water and chew on the dried venison. That would prevent dehydration. He didn’t want to bury anyone at sea.

Suddenly, as the boat rose with a rising wave, the men saw what appeared to be a light. Hemraj counted its revolutions. They didn’t correspond to the Great Coco or Table Island light houses.

What could it be? He heard of the Balatan lighthouse that disappeared altogether…and the story of a haunting tale.

Hemraj remembered what MrEales told him. Eales died soon after Hemraj’s arrival in the Islands. Poor man, he was buried on Ross Island. But it was he who taught him seamanship. How to handle a boat in a storm, under sail, with oars… it was all MrEales’ teachings that made Hemraj, the hillbilly from Nepal, into a seasoned sailor.

Eales was with Dr. FJ Mouat during the initial explorations of the Islands in 1858. He later came to Port Blair with the first batch of convicts, as a part of the Naval Brigade.

One eveningEales told Hemraj the story he heard from Dr. FJ Mouat, the story of David Barclay, the Glasgow boy.

David Barclay was a lighthouse keeper on Balatan Island lighthouse.

He was so disfigured by frostbiteon his face during a voyage that he never hoped to find a bride.

He shunned company due to his horrible face.

The job of a lighthouse keeper suited him best, without any visitors who would gasp the moment they looked at his face.

Being a good Christian, who believed in resurrection he made his native servants perform a strange ritual every month before he paid their wages.

He made them put him in a nice, silk lined, mahogany coffin he got made for himself, go round the place three times and then put him in a grave he prepared for himself for sometime. He never thought he would ever have a family.

However, “The Lower Female Orphan Asylum,” had many half-caste girls left behind by their English fathers who took the sons back to England but left their native wives and daughters in India.

DrMouat succeeded in finding a bride for good David, who was willing to go with him to the desolate rock and live with him, ‘the lily of the flock’ as David called her.

David’s life was full of bliss then onwards.

On a stormy night, as he kept the light alive to warn a passing ship, his wife gave birth to a bonny baby boy.

David sent his wife and child to Calcutta so that they could have a better life than that on a small island in the midst of the sea.

Then, on the Queen’s birthday, David decided he should fire a Royal Salute to Her Majesty. He loaded a rusty gun on the rock, and applied the match to the touchhole.

The rusty gun blew up in his face.

His servants, already trained in what to do in case of sudden death, collected the bits and pieces that were his body and buried them in the already prepared grave.

Eales told Hemraj that David’s ghost still haunts the area.

Whenever a ship is in danger of dashing against rocks he shines a light to warn them.

Could it be David warning them?

Hemraj pushed the tiller hard up to turn the boat around. Seconds later he heard the roar of waves smashing on rocks. They were very close to death.

As the boat slid away in the opposite direction, Hemraj turned round to see where the light was.

There was nothing in the darkness, except the crests of huge waves.

Hemraj said a silent prayer of thanks to David and held the tiller tightly.

They would have to wait till morning to find where they were. (To be continued….)

 

N. Francis Xavier ,Part XII, (Continued from last week)

Col. Cadell was a happy man that morning. There were many reasons for that.

The first was a letter confirming his promotion as Lt. Colonel.

Before coming to Port Blair as Chief Commissioner he was Political Agent 1st Class in the Princely State of Kota, drawing a salary of 1,500 rupees per month.

The letter just received showed his salary as 2,166 rupees 10 annas and 8 pice. That included the special pay for his VC. He was the highest paid officer in Port Blair. Even the Senior Medical Officer, usually next to him in seniority, got only 600 rupees.

With a salary like this he could save a lot of money. He hoped he would get the next promotion to full colonel also. His desire was to buy a good estate in his native Edinburg and settle down there after retirement.

The next was a letter from the Hazaribagh Jail. It was a prison meant for ‘white convicts’. All British convicts who committed serious crimes in India were kept there due to its salubrious climate. Many were murderers.

Cadell had written a letter to the Jail Superintendent to find out if there was a convict who could play the Church Organ well, and had some knowledge of music. His desire was to have someone play the new Church Organ he got from England for the Church on Ross Island. The new church badly needed an Organist and choir-master. Attendance at church was compulsory for all officers and Christians, including convicts.

The letter informed Cadell that John Barrow, a convict in Hazaribaghgaol, was being transferred to Port Blair on ticket-of-leave. He was a good organist and conductor.

‘Now I can have a proper Sunday service, with organ music and a trained chorus’, Cadell thought.

The third was the arrival of a consignment of carbines andrevolvers. He had written asking for the replacement of the old smooth bore cavalry pistols issued to the police. He explained how unsuitable the weapons were for use by foot soldiers. They were muzzle loading, percussion type with swivel rammers of 8 to 10 inches length. His suggestion had been accepted and a consignment of brand new revolvers were on the way. But, more important was the sanction for 733 Schneider carbines with 1000 rounds for each weapon.

‘This would put some fear into the minds of convicts who plan escapes or mischief’, Cadell thought.

The fourth letter announced that convicts will be sent from Assam to raise a tea plantation at Port Blair. Capt. Wimberley, his deputy was always of the opinion that tea could be grown in Andamans. He had already experimented with many varieties he brought from a visit to Ceylon. Now there’ll be no shortage of tea, his favourite drink. He would have his own, home-grown ‘cuppa’.

There was another letter about the lease of Coco Island by one Mr. Sherlock Hare of London. Hare wanted to take the island on long lease in order to harvest the coconuts and take them to Burma for processing. He offered to buy the steamer Constance for 5000 rupees. He seemed to be a powerful man with connections in London.

Coco Island had been a source of much tension for the Chief Commissioners of Andaman Islands. It was closer to Burma, but under the jurisdiction of the Andaman Chief Commissioner. A lighthouse had come up on it. But it was more important because of its strategic location. However, it was not possible to maintain a military station there. Traders occasionally stopped there for collecting coconuts, without paying any revenue. Now Sherlock Hare offered 10,000 rupees a year as lease amount. This would increase his revenue collections.

As Cadell closed the dak file a man came with a packet. It contained copies of ‘History of Port Blair’, a book written in Urdu by one convict JafarThanesri. Thanesri was one of the Ambala convicts, as they were known in Port Blair. A very learned man with pleasing manners, he was convicted in the Ambala Conspiracy, an attempt to overthrow British power in India by a religious group known as ‘Wahabis’.

Cadell was much impressed by the learning and manners of JafarThanesri. He was given a good job with freedom of movement within Port Blair.

When Thanesri expressed a desire to write a book on Port Blair he was given permission. The book has now been printed.

Within a few months of his arrival in the Islands he could do so much. He would transform these islands by the time his tenure ends. With these thoughts Cadell rose up from his table to meet the officers in the conference hall on the ground floor.

A uniformed orderly opened the door to Cadell’s office on the ground floor. A polished teak table gleamed in its center. A writing pad and a pen stand with other implements like an ivory paper knife and paper weights were neatly placed on it.

On the wall behind the chair was a portrait of Victoria, the Empress of India. One wall of the room was lined with book shelves. Before the table were four plain chairs. A stuffed sofa was placed at the other end of the room. Two men with hand-held punkhas stood on either side of the chair. An orderly silently moved back the throne-line chair, upholstered in red leather and embossed with the royal coat of arms.
But Cadell did not sit. As he moved towards the side door leading to the conference room it silently opened. Officers stood up as he walked to another ornate chair at the head of the table and sat down.

Officers in immaculate uniforms sat in chairs on either side of the table. Punkhas, pulled by invisible punkha pullers swayed gently, creating a light breeze.

“Gentlemen, please take your seats”, Cadell said in a jovial voice. “I have some good news to announce, I have received my promotion orders just now”.

Congratulations poured in from the officers present.

‘I have more good news but before that I want the status report on the escapees. Captain Birch, I hope you too have some good news for me’, Cadell said, turning towards Birch, the senior most officer present there.

‘Sir, I have really some good news’, announced Birch, always ready to please the CC. I just received news via semagraph that the fugitive boat had been sighted in the vicinity of Great Coco Island. A lookout in the crow’s nest of the SS Charlotte which was sailing in the nearby waters spotted the boat. But due to stormy weather she could not give pursuit, being a sail ship. She flashed a message picked up by a passing ship and relayed to us.

‘That’s indeed good news, we’ll get them soon now. We have an offer for a lease of Coco Island. Let us go there on an inspection visit. But I have been asked to submit a report on the high mortality rate last year. This is urgent. Where is the SMO?’.

‘Sir, Dr. Reid is on leave, and Dr. Morton had been dismissed from service due to misconduct. We have here the Third Medical Officer Dr. Rajendra Chandra Mittra’, Birch said.

‘Well, Dr. Mittra, what measures are you taking?’,Cadell asked.

‘Sir, I have started administering Cinchona alkaloid to all sick convicts. This new medicine is supposed to be effective against Malaria’, DrMittra replied.

Please send me report on that. This meeting is now dismissed. Capt. Birch, Mr. Portman and Mr.Homfray, please meet me in my chamber’, Cadell said, as he rose from his chair (to be continued)…..

 

N. Francis Xavier
Part XI, (Continued from last week)
Hemraj loaded the rifle and slowly lifted it to his shoulder. He leaned against the mast to steady the weapon. Taking careful aim he squeezed the trigger. The report reverberated in the stillness. There was a shout of joy from the men in the boat. The large wild pig on the shore of the island fell down and lay motionless.

Debideen guided the boat to the shore. The meat would be an addition to their larder when they strike out for the coast tonight.
The men gutted and dressed the pig quickly. They have learnt to enjoy this rare delicacy while in Port Blair.

The Andaman forest teamed with wild pig. It was the favourite of the Andamanese. Some times they would bring them to the settlement to barter for some goods they needed. Soon it became a must on the table of the Chief Commissioner.

Hunting the pig took the settlers deep into the tribal territories leading to conflict with the dreaded Jarawas.

As if in answer to Hemraj’s shot a muffled boom was heard in the distance.

The men were stunned. It only meant that a ship was in the vicinity. Mr Portman must have returned to Port Blair and sent a steamer to cut off their escape route.

Thoughts raced through Hemraj’s mind. He wanted to start for the open sea that night. With the wind behind them he hoped to make landfall in a day. But, with the steamer looking for them that would not be possible. The captain of the ship might have already got a fix on their location from the sound of the rifle. They must hide. Hide for a few days so that their scent becomes cold and steamer returns to Port Blair.

Hemraj remembered Chintalloo.

A few months before the escape a terrible murder had taken place on a lonely island towards the north.

A new lighthouse has come up on Table Island, a quarter mile long and three quarters broad piece of rock in the Coco group. It was built to show the light to the now increased traffic between Burma and the Andamans. It was one of the seven that marked the channels on the Burmese coast.

The new lighthouse incorporated the latest technology available in those times. The parabolic reflector system and the Fresnel lens revolutionized the way a lighthouse worked. It also necessitated the posting of a trained lighthouse keeper and some staff to keep the sophisticated machinery of the lighthouse in continuous working order.

The life of a lighthouse keeper was a lonely one. The supply boat or ship visited once in two months. People’s minds did strange things during those long periods of loneliness.

When Mr. Woodcock, the new keeper was posted there he wanted to assert his authority over the native helpers. From the day he landed he went after them hammer and tongs. His favourite method — beating. He picked on the weakest of the lot, a poor sweeper named Chintalloo.

Chintalloo, a south Indian labourer from Burma, joined the service attracted by the princely salary of twelve rupees a month. He could save the whole amount and take it home when he went on annual leave.

Basically a simple person, Chintalloo was also an excellent swimmer coming from the fisherman caste. He did the duties assigned to him with utmost sincerity and got along very well with the earlier keeper.

Then came Woodcock. When Woodcock asked him to clean the latrines, Cintalloo protested. He explained to Woodcock that his caste did not permit him to do the job of an untouchable.

Woodcock responded with beatings. He even made a note in his diary on how good a thrashing he gave Chintalloo.

On the sixth day of Woodcock’s arrival on Table Island Chintallo split the skull of Woodcock with an axe and disappeared into the bushes.

The news of the incident was conveyed through a passing vessel to the authorities in Moulmien. But TableIsland fell under the jurisdiction of the Chief Commissioner of Andamans, although it was provisioned from Burma.

Finally, some months after the murder, a ship from Port Blair dropped anchor off Table Island, to investigate. Manning the ship’s life boat was Hemraj.

Hemraj had been on TableIsland and CocoIsland many times earlier. He knew Chintalloo well, who always welcomed the boat crew and cut tender coconuts for them. He liked him for his ready smile and uncomplaining nature. He knew that it was the intolerable behaviour of Woodcock that must have made Chintallootake the drastic step. He felt sad for him. If caught he would hang for it. He wished that Chintalloo would get away somehow, to his native place in India.

The party from the ship landed on the small jetty of TableIsland.

Hemraj saw the grim sight of the grave being opened up and an inquest conducted by the Senior Medical Officer of Port Blair.
The Chaplain from Port Blair conducted a belated requiem on the bones of poor Mr. Woodcock and reburied them in the same grave.
A cross, brought along from Port Blair was planted on the mound.

The native staff were silent about the whereabouts of Chintalloo.

Mr. Tuson, the officer in charge of the investigation, ordered a search. The Andamanese were let loose among the crags of the tiny island. But there was no sign of Chintalloo. The channel that separated TableIsland from the neighouringSlipperIsland teemed with sharks.

Hemraj was asked to take four convict oarsmen and cruise around the islands.

Just as they were about to return to the ship Hemraj thought he saw movement in the bushes on SlipperIsland.

Someone was watching him. It was too difficult to take the boat through the surf. Handing over the tiller to one of the convicts, and making them swear to secrecy, Hemraj jumped into the water and swam to the small patch of sand.

Chintalloo looked like an apparition from the nether world. He had been living off the land, surviving on coconuts, wild berries, crabs and fish, often eating them raw. He recognized Hemraj in the boat and came forward to watch. He recounted what happened between him and the Lighthouse Keeper and begged Hemraj not to betray him. He had no choice. It was his caste against Woodcock’s tyranny.

He had been living on Slipper Island waiting for the searches to be called off before hailing a passing junk, posing as a shipwrecked sailor and find passage to India.

Hemraj promised never to reveal his presence. But, in return, he wanted Chintalloo’s help – he should shelter him when the time came for him to escape — in just a few months. Chintalloo gladly accepted.

“I hope Chintalloo is still there”, Hemraj thought as he turned the boat towards Slipper Island. It was time to return the favour. (To be continued…)

N. Francis Xavier
Part X, (Continued from last week)

Maurice Vidal Portman, the enigmatic officer-in-charge of the Andamanese was a troubled man.

The recapture of the escaped convicts was essential to establish his credibility with Col. Cadell, the new Chief Commissioner. He would need his help in getting a choice bungalow allotted in Port Blair, get an electric generator and photographic equipment installed in it. He saw a treasure trove in the Andamanese tribals. Their numbers were dwindling rapidly. If only he could take as many photographs of them he could make a fortune by selling them. He had already been negotiating with the British Museum for preparing a portfolio of Andamanese photographs.After that he wanted to compile a manual of the Andamanese language. Cadell’s approval is essential for all these enterprises.

Soon after the escape Portman wanted to go north in a steam launch and cut off the flight of Hemraj by crossing over to the west coast through Austen Strait. He told the Marine Engineer Mr. Crawford to muster all steam and go up to Craggy Island first and double back to Austen Strait.

Craggy Island was the place where the first encounter took place in 1858 between Dr FJ Mouat’s party and the Great Andamanese. Although it happened thirty years earlier there were many on the island who still remember the encounter clearly.

Pluto, the ship in which Mouat conducted the survey of the Andamans anchored off the island. It was full of crags and caves, but the water around it was teaming with fish, visible to the naked eye through the crystal clear water.
Mouat ordered the cutters to be lowered for a closer examination. The men were ordered to load their weapons, but hide them under the floorboards of the boat.

The sight of the huge monster-like ship, with its huge paddle wheels and the hissing steam engineso frightened islanders that they retreated into the jungle.

The attempt to land was thwarted by the brave chief who came down to the beach and challenged the outsiders with his spear. His war dance showed defiance. Finally he took his bow and shot an arrow in the direction of the intruders, however ineffective it might be.

Meanwhile Mouat’s party landed near an abandoned boat and left in it many mirrors and ‘beads of the most dazzling colours’, after displaying them to those on the shore. In a later encounter the aborigines sent a shower of arrows among the boatmen, answered with a blind volley of shots from the sailors of the Pluto.

Portman read about the encounter in DrMouat’s famous book. In fact he read it many times. He had even met Mouat in Calcutta. Being a member of the Royal Asiatic Society, Fellow of the University of Calcutta and the Photographic Society he was well known in Calcutta for his knowledge about the Andaman aborigines.

During later encounters the Andamanese became docile and cooperative. They were obedient towards Portman who brought gifts for them. One of them was named Aina, as he possessed one of the mirrors left by Mouat.

It was Aina who came to meet Portman that day. Portman told him about the runaways and asked him to look out for them. Everyone knew the boat, taken away by Hemraj.

By the time they reached Austen Strait Mr Crawford, the engineer informed Portman that the crown plate of the furnace of the launch was badly damaged. It has to be left there till replacements came from Port Blair.

Portman knew that delay meant better chances for the fugitives. Desperate, he took a large sailing boat to return to Port Blair. But the monsoon was at its peak. The rough seas and wind drove the boat on to rocks. Even that had to be abandoned.

Not knowing what to do Portman sent some Andamanese to look for the station steamer, which might be in the vicinity. He fired guns to attract any passing ship and even used the sounding board of the Andamanese. Finally the IGS Hugh Rose was sighted and the Chief Officer comes to the Andamanese village and takes them to Port Blair.

Just a few months before the escape Portman was hit on the head with a spade by a convict named Tokha. He was passing by the chain gang on Viper Island when Tokha took a swipe at him. He was about to hit him again when Ahmed the convict Jamadar seized him. An insensible Portman was taken to the hospital with a gaping head injury.

Tokha was hanged immediately but Portman never completely recovered from the injury. As he sat on the deck of the violently rolling IGS Hugh Rose he felt dizzy and felt the fever rising. He knew he would not be able to pursue Hemraj. He will have to apply for leave and go back to England to recover his health.

It was with a heavy heart Portman reported to Col. Cadell. But the information that the fugitives took to the west coast was enough for Cadell. Together they poured over the charts of the Bay of Bengal. Cadell called for Captain Birch and asked him to prepare a series of telegrams to many coastal areas of Bengal also. The telegrams will be sent by the next ship.

A small steamer coming from Rangoon brought a message from the Captain of the Satara. They had scoured the sea around the west coast but found no trace of the boat or the fugitives.

‘I know where to look for them’, Cadell smiled to himself.

‘I’ll get them to the gallows before the month is up’, he swore. (To be continued)

 

N. Francis Xavier, Part IX , (Continued from last week)

The frenzied dance continued for an hour. A hearty dinner of roast pork, boiled turtle and yams followed. Natanata brought bowls full of honey. The heavy meal made the men sleepy.

Hemraj sensed that the love and affection of their Jarawa hosts may induce his men to stay there forever. They too would take a Jarawa bride each, like DoodnathTewari did earlier. But they would not betray them, like Doodnath did the Andamanese.

Hemraj remembered Doodnath. He returned to Port Blair on his way to the Sarawak Islands, to join the service of the White Raja Brook. Having heard of him he too went to meet him. It was not difficult to understand that he was a braggart and a liar. The Andamanese women in the settlement came and cursed him for leaving his wife Leepa, who was 8 months pregnant when he deserted them.  She gave birth to a still born child later.

The story of an island where the people ate a fruit that grew on a particular tree, which made them lethargic and forgetful about their family and friends, came to Hemraj’s mind. Mr Homfray used to tell such stories, reading from a thick book he kept in his house.  ‘Would his men too mutiny and decide to stay with the Jarawas?’.

Hemraj’s reverie was broken by the arrival of a band of Jarawa hunters.  Seven live wild pigs, neatly trussed up were laid on the floor.

One of the men came over to Ungade and reported.

Using words and mime the man described sighting a ‘Fire Boat’, towards the east. They had seen two white men and many Andamanese. From the man’s words and gestures Hemraj understood that it was Portman he was talking about.  He must have come in the steamer that brought the Andamanese who chased them in Middle Strait.

The man also conveyed that the steamer had engine problems and was left behind.  Portman and party took the sailing boat and left towards Port Blair.  Even that boat got damaged due to bad weather.  The Andamanese were seen helping them and accommodating them in their huts.  They belonged to the Ke`de` tribe.

Hemraj understood that Portman did try to come to the west coast through Austen Strait.  He steamed fast North and entered the Strait with the aim of cutting off his flight.  But the engine breakdown forced him to go back.

No one understood Hemraj’s mind better than Portman.  After all he was his majhi for many years.Hemraj too could read the mind of Portman. He will be on their tail soon, with a bigger and faster ship.  The Andamanese trackers will comb every creek and inlet. They don’t have much time.

Ungade Amey was suggesting they sleep in the hut for the night.  But the effects of the singing, dancing and feasting were already clearly visible on the faces of Hemraj’s men.

Hemraj remembered the story of the great hero, from Homfray’s book, who sealed the ears of his sailors with molten wax to prevent them from being attracted by the songs of some beautiful, but dangerous women on some island.

Hemraj got up and thanked Ungade for his hospitality and for saving them from the Andamanese pursuers.  He told the men to march to the boat.  They would drift with the tide towards the exit till the morning, and then make the best possible speed towards north before MV Portman could catch up with them.

The men protested.  The heady perfume of beeswax burning in the fires made them sleepy.  But Hemraj’s word prevailed.

Unwillingly the men marchedin single file, accompanied by Ungade and some Jarawa menholding torches.  Natanata waved a fond goodbye.  Water and honey stored in bamboo containers, yams and dried meat were given as gifts.

After the men boarded the boat Ungade and his men pushed it into the stream.  Using the oars the men backed it into deep water.  The swift current picked up the boat. Bhaman Singh took the tiller and guided it into midstream.

Hemraj was aware he will have to choose uncharted waters to escape from the determined Portman.  He should avoid the usual route taken by the fugitives from Andamans.  Danger lurked in the estuaries of the Irrawaddy.  He must look for a new route, something the wily Portman would not think of.  The only problem was no such chart existed in the chartroom of his mind.  In these stormy seas he has to use his best navigational skills and seamanship to bring them to safety.

Ungade and his men stood on the shore and waved their farewells as the boat floated off into the darkness. ( to be continued -)

 

N. Francis Xavier

Part VII, (Continued from last week)
Hemraj lowered the rifle, not believing his own eyes at the sudden change in the pursuit.

“Down, everybody”, SheoBux Mina, the convict from the Princely state of Tonk, who held the tiller shouted.

Before they could duck a shower of arrows flew over their heads.

They landed on the Great Andamanese canoes. The shouts of pain indicated that at least some of them found their mark.

Hemraj realized that the forest on the other side of the creek was teeming with the Jarawa, the arch enemy of the Andamanese.

They must have watched the boats and understood that the Andamanese were pursuing runaways. They waited till the canoes came within range and discharged the arrows with deadly accuracy.

Maia Biala was a marked man for the Jarawas. He was the one who lead the outsiders to raid their villages on the so called “punitive expeditions”.

The Jarawas resented outsiders entering their territories. They hated the Andamanese for selling out to the strangers who came from across the seas and settled on the eastern shore.

By surrendering to the outsiders the Andamanese have brought death upon themselves. The Jarawas observed how strange diseases quickly decimated the Andamanese.

“Where would the next volley of arrows land?”Hemraj wondered. They crouched on the bottom boards of the whaler, frozen with fear. The boat started drifting towards the shore, with no one to hold the tiller.

Suddenly someone called Hemraj by his name. Hemraj was startled. Who would know him in this wilderness, that too in the Jarawa territory?

“Hemraj, it’s UngadeAmey, he’s waving to us to come ashore”, whispered Debideen who peered over the gunwales to see who it was.

Hemraj remembered Ungade Amey. He was captured some years ago by the convicts working near Dhani Khari and kept on Viper by Mr Homfray.

Maj. Gen. D.M. Stewart, the then Chief Commissioner wanted to use Ungade as a means of establishing friendly relations with the hostile Jarawas.

MrJ.N. Homfray, Officer in charge of the Andamanese Homes and Convict Goodur were asked by Gen. Stewart to treat Ungade with kindness and learn their language. Hemraj, being the boatman became a good friend of Ungade.

Hemraj remembered Ungade’s reaction when he saw a match being struck for the first time. The tribe did not know how to make fire. They preserved the fire in resin torch, handed down generations ago, and carried it wherever they went. Hemraj learnt bits of their language. When Ungade was to be dropped back it was he who took him in the boat, with lots of gifts, and boxes of Lucifer matches. It was an emotional parting at Constance Bay where they left him.

Hemraj got up and saw Ungade on the shore. He looked like a chief, much bigger and taller than when he saw him last. He wore a necklace of shells around him neck, and a magnificent chest guard made of tree bark. Pieces of red cloth were tied round his head and forearms. In his hands he held a taut bow and a few arrows. But there was no hostility on his face.It broke into a big smile. With outspread arms Ungade Amey gestured to Hemraj to come ashore.

Around Ungade there were about a hundred Jarawa warriors, all armed with bows and arrows, tipped with pieces of iron sharpened to a point. Their ebony black bodies glistened in the light.

Ungade saw the hesitation in the eyes of Hemraj and issued an order. Next moment the Jarawas lowered their bows and moved backwards. It was clear that Ungade was a chief.

Hemraj could see some women and children also in the background. One woman stepped forward. She too had a smile on her face. Hemrajswa that it was Natanata Waye, who was captured by Goodur during a raid. She was pregnant at that time and could not runaway like the others. She too was treated very kindly by Homfray and returned to the forest with lots of gifts.

Natanata pointed to a little girl by her side. Hemraj understood that she was trying to tell him it was she who was in her womb at the time of her capture.

Mina, who took the tiller by then, guided the boat to the shore. As soon as the bows touched the sand bank Hemraj jumped on shore. Ungade rushed and embraced him a bear hug. They slapped each other on the back for some time, as they searched for words of greeting.

One by one all the men waded ashore. They made friendly gestures to the Jarawas and explained through sign language how they had escaped from the prison.

Ungade, who, by that time recollected some words of Hindustani asked Hemraj about Goodur and MyoJolah. Hemraj explained how Goodur got an absolute pardon for his work among the Andamanese and Jarawas and went back to his native place in India. MyoJolah was also well, and in Port Blair. But, right now he too must be searching for them, Hemraj explained. MyoJolah was the Andamanese name for J.N Homfray. It meant “Master of Masters”.

After securing the boat the men followed their Jarawa hosts to their large communal hut deep in the forest. There, each by their own hearth, lived the Jarawas, under one roof, sharing all that they could hunt or gather from the forest. Skulls of wild pig, tied with cane hung from the roof of the hut like festoons. Bows and arrows, baskets, nets and other implements were neatly stowed in their places.

Ungade took Hemraj to a corner of the hut. From a packet, wrapped in several layers of bark he took out a bundle. Hemraj saw a few matchboxes. They were the same Lucifer matches given to Ungade when he was returned to the forest years ago.

Hemraj understood that it must have been the power to make fire which led to Ungade becoming the Chief. He owed it to Goodur and Homfray. There was gratitude in his eyes when he spoke about them.

Soon the fires were lit and a dance started in honour of the guests.

“Oley oleyoleyley…Leloleloleyoley…” sang the Jarawas as they swayed and stamped their feet around the fire. Hemraj and friends also joined the celebration. to be continued )