N. Francis Xavier, Part V (Continued from last week)
The comfort of the lime stone caves was too tempting for the men to halt for a few more days there before continuing their flight. But Hemraj knew that the Great Andamanese trackers would head for the same spot soon. He had visited that place earlier in their company, to clean it for the edible birds’ nests and guano. They would suspect him to be hiding there.
They should take a route the Andamanese themselves fear to tread. Hemraj had one in mind.
By the time the sun rose the next morning a sudden transformation took place in the appearance of the men. The prison uniforms were discarded and burnt. The blacksmith among them cut away the iron rings around their necks with the ‘tickets’ — the pieces of wood on which their term of imprisonment was etched. They wore just loincloths, which were much more comfortable, and turbans.
“We’re lucky that the system of tattooing or branding the prisoners’ foreheads with their numbers has not been implemented”, Hemraj thought. Several proposals sent by the prison superintendents to that effect have been turned down by the government as inhuman.
The only thing that connected themen with the penal colony now was the boat. Its unique design and markings would be a sure give away. They will have to dump the boat, but not now.
The men extinguished the fire and cleaned up the camp area. Carrying all their equipment they trekked towards the place where the boat was tied up. On the way they filled the water barrels from the fresh water stream.
While on their way to the caves the men set up snares along the way. One fat piglet was a welcome sight. It was trussed and carried on the back, live, to be barbequed later.
At high tide the men pulled the boat out of the mangroves and took their places. Carefully avoiding the overhanging branches they headed for Middle Strait.
With easy strokes they pulled on the oars as Hemraj turned the bows towards the western exit of Middle Strait.
Two convicts in the stern trailed baited hooks which were instantly taken by many fish. Soon there was a pile of barracuda, trevally and groupers. They were gutted and hung up to dry.
A gentle breeze sprang up. Hemraj hoisted the sails, avoiding the shallow parts of the strait. The men watched, on the mud flats, huge salt water crocodiles sunning themselves, jaws wide open. “How many fugitives fell prey to those yawning jaws!” they wondered.
The whaler glided silently in the still waters of the creek, bordered by thick mangrove jungle on both sides. The heat of the day made the men sleepy. One started humming a song.
Their slumber was rudely shattered. Sudden shouts astern made the men jump up.
“The Andamanese! They’re on our tail!” shouted Hemraj.
The men had already started pulling on the oars with all their might.
Behind them they could see two or three Andamanese canoes. Just as Hemraj had anticipated the Andamanese expected them to hide in the lime stone caves. Some steam boat must have towed their outrigger canoes to the mouth of Middle Strait and left them there. Their shallow draught made them cross the bar easily and enter the Strait.
In the leading boat Hemraj could see Maia Biala, the Chief of Rutland Island. His reputation as an expert tracker made him a favourite of the British. It was he who tracked down the Bhil runaways four years ago. In the encounter at Mangluton most of the 23 Bhils who escaped were killed. The British rewarded Maia Biala by releasing his friends who were in the jail for murder.
Maia Biala would expect a big reward from Colonel Cadell for Hemraj’s capture. His men paddled furiously to catch up with the whaler. The light canoes, actually dugouts made from the single trunk of a tree,raced towards the whaler.
Weighed down by supplies and the heavy lead keel the whaler moved sluggishly. The canoes started gaining upon it fast.
A desperate Hemraj loaded the rifle. He would use it only as a last resort. Maia Biala was his friend. They were together on many ‘contact expeditions’. But the Andamanese were loyal to Portman. They will do anything for him.
One boat was almost within bowshot of the whaler. Hemraj saw the aborigines stringing their bows.
Thoughts of being captured and taken back to Port Blair raced through his mind.
He will be taken before Col. Cadell, in chains. Using his judicial powers Cadell would sentence him to death.
He, Hemraj, who, like Charon the infernal boatman, had ferried many condemned men to their death on Viper gallows, will himself be taken there. What happens next was well-known to them all.
Hemraj remembered the many executions he witnessed. In many cases the condemned men went with a smile on their face. It was the end of the daily routine of tortures for them. Most of them have murdered some cruel warder or petty officer to willingly earn the death sentence. At one stroke they rid the settlement of a tyrant as also their own physical suffering. Hemraj remembered Sher Ali, the Pathan who killed Lord Mayo, the Viceroy of India, during his visit to the islands. He was present at the execution of Sher Ali on Viper gallows.
“Brothers, I killed your enemy. You be witness that I am a Muslim”, Sherali said, standing on the trapdoor of the gallows. He started reciting the QalmaShahada, the profession of faith, as the hangman placed the hood over his face and tightened the noose around his neck. The trap door fell away.
That sight haunted Hemraj for many years.
He didn’t want to climb those steps and surrender his life to the hangman.
“Lord, save me from recapture, somehow…”,he started praying.
As if in answer to his prayer, he heard a terrible shout from Maia Biala.
To the consternation of Hemraj and his men the Andamanese boats made a sharp turn and furiously raced away from the whaler! ( to be continued).
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