Around the World in Eighty Days

  Chapter XII

  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND HIS COMPANIONS VENTURE ACROSS THE INDIANFORESTS, AND WHAT ENSUED

  In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of theline where the railway was still in process of being built. This line,owing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia Mountains, did notpursue a straight course. The Parsee, who was quite familiar with theroads and paths in the district, declared that they would gain twentymiles by striking directly through the forest.

  Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in thepeculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swifttrotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee;but they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talkinglittle, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As forPassepartout, who was mounted on the beast's back, and received thedirect force of each concussion as he trod along, he was very careful,in accordance with his master's advice, to keep his tongue from betweenhis teeth, as it would otherwise have been bitten off short. Theworthy fellow bounced from the elephant's neck to his rump, and vaultedlike a clown on a spring-board; yet he laughed in the midst of hisbouncing, and from time to time took a piece of sugar out of hispocket, and inserted it in Kiouni's trunk, who received it without inthe least slackening his regular trot.

  After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hourfor rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at aneighbouring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs roundabout him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, andboth descended with a feeling of relief. "Why, he's made of iron!"exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on Kiouni.

  "Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing ahasty breakfast.

  At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soonpresented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf-palmssucceeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scantyshrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite. All this portion ofBundelcund, which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by afanatical population, hardened in the most horrible practices of theHindoo faith. The English have not been able to secure completedominion over this territory, which is subjected to the influence ofrajahs, whom it is almost impossible to reach in their inaccessiblemountain fastnesses. The travellers several times saw bands offerocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant stridingacross-country, made angry and threatening motions. The Parsee avoidedthem as much as possible. Few animals were observed on the route; eventhe monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces whichconvulsed Passepartout with laughter.

  In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthyservant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got toAllahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost oftransporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sellhim, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved someconsideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, apresent of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and thesethoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.

  The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in theevening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruinedbungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and anequal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.

  The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a fewdry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased atKholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. Theconversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gaveplace to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who sleptstanding, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree.Nothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, althoughoccasional growls from panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke thesilence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostiledemonstration against the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis sleptheavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartoutwas wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As forMr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serenemansion in Saville Row.

  The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reachAllahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part ofthe forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni,resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of theVindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, onthe Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoidedinhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, whichlies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river.Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stoppedunder a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread andas succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.

  At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended severalmiles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had notas yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on thepoint of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becomingrestless, suddenly stopped.

  It was then four o'clock.

  "What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.

  "I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to aconfused murmur which came through the thick branches.

  The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distantconcert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartoutwas all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. TheParsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, andplunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:

  "A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent theirseeing us, if possible."

  The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the sametime asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready tobestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight becomenecessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithfulwould pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in whichthey were wholly concealed.

  The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and nowdroning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundredpaces away; and the strange figures who performed the religiousceremony were easily distinguished through the branches. First camethe priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lacerobes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang akind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by thetambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with largewheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with eachother. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus,stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red,with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tintedwith betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate andheadless giant.

  Sir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali; thegoddess of love and death."

  "Of death, perhaps," muttered back Passepartout, "but of love--thatugly old hag? Never!"

  The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.

  A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round thestatue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whencetheir blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, in the greatIndian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels ofJuggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Orientalapparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels andgems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered withgold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of herform.

  The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast toher, armed
as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, andlong damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It wasthe body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of arajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe oftissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, andthe magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musiciansand a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned thenoise of the instruments; these closed the procession.

  Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turningto the guide, said, "A suttee."

  The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The processionslowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared inthe depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionallycries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.

  Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as theprocession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"

  "A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but avoluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrowat the dawn of day."

  "Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress hisindignation.

  "And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.

  "Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independentrajah of Bundelcund."

  "Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not theleast emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, andthat the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"

  "These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," repliedSir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, andespecially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of theVindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."

  "The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"

  "Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not, youcannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to fromher relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scantyallowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon asan unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog.The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creaturesto the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism.Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requiresthe active interference of the Government to prevent it. Several yearsago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of thegovernor to be burned along with her husband's body; but, as you mayimagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took refuge with anindependent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."

  While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,and now said: "The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn isnot a voluntary one."

  "How do you know?"

  "Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."

  "But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"observed Sir Francis.

  "That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp andopium."

  "But where are they taking her?"

  "To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the nightthere."

  "And the sacrifice will take place--"

  "To-morrow, at the first light of dawn."

  The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon hisneck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward witha peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir FrancisCromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."

  "Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"

  "I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."

  "Why, you are a man of heart!"

  "Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."