Showing posts with label Big Game Hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Game Hunting. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The Native Matchlock - Tiger Hunting in India

A slightly  bloodthirsty story (to our squeamish modern taste) but with an amazing moment of suspense straight out of Kipling or Conrad. A real life account - the author was almost certainly Lieutenant Colonel J. W. Wray. The manuscript was in an envelope with 3 other chapers addressed to him at 'The Croft, Guildford' and he is known to have written With rifle and spear : reminiscences of Lt.-Col. J.W. Wray. Copac gives his dates as 1851-1924 and record this book as being published by The General Press, Ltd.,. They estimate the date as 1925. Certainly these accounts mention rifles and spears, Wray was a dedicated game hunter. The manuscripts came from a couple of very old soldiers Basil and Russell Steele.

No copies of the book are available and it has not been digitised. Web archives reveal he was in the 108th Foot Regiment and he was a member of the Northumberland and Northern Counties Club. Punch mentions him and his wife in 1916 - the victim of a Pooter like misprint: 'Mrs. Wray entertained the recruiting staff, numbering £21, to tea at Brett's Hall, Guildford, on Thursday.' They add 'Sterling fellows obviously'.


The photo, supplied merely to give atmosphere, is actually of Franz Ferdinand von Österreich-Este in Rajasthan 1892, Wray's adventure is probably from a decade later. The game of "fly loo" needs reviving, especially with global warming - a game for very hot days, played for high stakes.


THE NATIVE MATCHLOCK

    One desperately hot day, in one of the hottest Stations of India, with the thermometer standing at anything between 105 and 115 degrees in the shade and life a burden, we in the Mess were trying to forget our mid-day miseries by playing "Fly Loo" after Lunch. "Fly Loo" is about the only game that can be played in that temperature as it requires no exercise of intellect or fatiguing effort of any kind. All that the players have to do is to sit round the table each with a lump of sugar in front of him and he whose lump of sugar a fly first seats itself wins the game and becomes the possessor of the stakes which, of course, are quite nominal. The excitement is intense and the simultaneous shouts of claimants dispel all forebodings of heat apoplexy and the consciousness of discomfort which are inseparable  from the stifling atmosphere.

    During one of these entertainments, a Mess Waiter whispered to me that a villager was outside and wanted me urgently.

    I slipped away from the excited players unobserved and unquestioned as it was for too hot, and the game too absorbing for any of them to interest themselves in other people's affairs, and I was glad of this for I knew that it meant news that I had been expecting for some days of a large tiger, and selfish as it may seem I was anxious to go after him alone, as the jungle, which he had been monopolizing for some time past was not big enough for more than one gun.