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…)
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