The Temple of Death

Front matter

The Temple of Death. THE WORSHIP OF YAMA. [Page i6j. The Temple of Death BY Edmund Mitchell LONDON : HUTCHINSON & CO. 34, Paternoster Row, E.C. TO Brigade-Surgeon Lieut-Col. Langley, LATE OF THE BOMBAY ARMY, THIS STORY OF ADVENTURE IN INDIA IS, IN MEMORY OF MANY ACTS OF KINDNESS, DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. London, 1 894. Contents. CHAP. PAGE. I. LALJEE ... ... ... ... ... I II. One Faint Clue ... ... ... ... 17 III. Southward Bound ... ... ... ... 24 IV. Our Start Inland ... ... ... ... 32 V. On the Back-waters ... ... ... 46 VI. A Village Scene and a Forest Adventure ... 55 VII. Sophie's Request ... ... ... ... 71 VIII. A Clouded Life ... ... ... ... 78 IX. The Recluse's Retreat ... ... ... 90 X. Another Recruit. ... ... ... ... 99 XI. Our Goal in Sight ... ... ... in XII. In the Palace of the Maharajah ... 118 XIII.

The Dewan's Return Visit ... ... 128 XIV. A Modern Proteus ... ... ... ... 136 XV. Within Zenana Walls ... ... ... 147 XVI. The Place of Yama ... ... ... ... 157 XVII. Our Plan of Campaign ... ... ... 172 XVIII. A Discovery by Sophie ... ... ... ... 183 XIX. A Hideous Ritual ... ... ... ... 194 XX. A New Priest of Yama ... ... ... 208 XXI. Rukmi's Repentance ... ... ... 221 XXII. Morabai's Destiny ... ... ... ... 233 ( vii ) CONTENTS. chap. page. XXIII. The Fate of Hassan ... ... 250 XXIV. The Crisis ... ... ... ... ... 262 XXV. The Rescue of Morabai ... ... .> , 271 XXVI. Shattered Landmarks ... ... ... 283 XXVII. Yama's Victims ... ... ... ... 295 XXVIII. The Catastrophe on the Plain ... ... 301 XXIX. A Disquieting Incident ... ... ... 311 XXX. A Relic of the Past ... ... ... ... 320 XXXI. "Till Death us do Part" ... ... ... 331 XXXII. Thrice does Yama Fail ... ... ... 346 Glossary ... ... ... ... ... . .

Chapter I Laljee

IT was the month of October, and my yacht, " The Cushie Doo," which had borne me bravely pretty well all round the World, was having a period of rest on the broad bosom of Bombay harbour. My name, I may state straight away, is Hal Ravenhurst ; the part of my life-story which concerns my readers will appear in the course of this narrative. The blue waters of the bay were almost motionless. Away over the long promontory of Colaba the sun was nearing the horizon, and in another half-hour would dip into the ocean. Meanwhile, its all but horizontal rays brought into relief against the ruddy sunset glow the banner-like leaves of the tall palms and the feathery-tipped clumps of bamboo. This picturesque and characteristically tropical sky-line was continued by the imposing group of public buildings which form the chief architectural feature of the splendid city of Bombay.

High over all rose the graceful University Tower, with Malabar Hill, (0 i its bungalows, and its Parsee Towers of Silence for a background. On the broad bosom of the harbour itself lay hundreds of vessels of every nationality, with the white sails of fishing boats and small craft flashing in and out amongst them. Beyond was the verdure clad Island of Elephanta, and then the lofty line of the Ghauts mantled in a violet haze. From the Colaba headland a periodically recurring puff of smoke, and the dull boom of a big gun borne across the waters, showed that a battery of artillery was at practice. One could also faintly distinguish the shouts of a gang of coolies loading or unloading some vessel in the stream. Save for these sounds, and for the gentle lapping of the wavelets against the sides of the yacht, all nature seemed hushed.

I had dreamed away the sultry afternoon in lazy and, perhaps, Sybarite fashion. Lolling on deck, my couch, a thick soft Persian rug, the fierce sun warded off by the snow-white double awning stretched from end to end of the yacht, I had enjoyed a delicious period of dolce far niente. I had been reading an old favourite among my books, De Quincey's " Opium Eater" ; and inhaling through the long tube of my nargilah the mild and perfumed tobacco of Shiraz the while a little Hindu boy, kneeling on the deck close by, waved a palm-leaf punkah with drowsy monotony. I had entered into the inmost soul of the author, had pictured his trances and felt the soft influences of his saddened reveries, as I had never done before. As the Malay sailor had conjured up to the imagination LALJEE. 3 of De Quincey all sorts of Oriental fantasies, so my present surroundings had helped me to appreciate the rich imagery of the prose poet's dreams.

The arrival of my servant with afternoon tea had broken the spell, and I had laid aside the volume and risen from my recumbent position. The fierce heat of the day was past, and as I leant over the bulwarks I enjoyed to the full the gentle evening breeze that had now sprung up. I also took some interest in watching, at the distance of about half-a-mile from where my yacht was anchored, the animated scene presented by the mail-steamer just on the eve of departure for Europe. A score of boats and steam launches were clustered round the great vessel, and the deck was crowded with a bustling throng, some of them passengers for home, and others, friends, come to wish the voyagers God-speed. I had watched the spectacle for some little time, and had naturally dropped into a train of meditation, in which affectionate memories of old England predominated, when the harsh beating of a tom-tom assailed my ears.

A boat was gently rowed round the bows of the yacht, and in its chief occupant I readily recognised the form of an Indian snake-charmer and conjurer. He beat his tom-tom to attract my attention, while a little boy by his side commenced to blow a droning pipe. I had it on my lips to call out to them to stop their infernal din, when the conjurer stood upright in the boat, and the boy ceased his piping at a gesture from his master. " Much magic, Sahib ; me make much magic, Sahib ; see mongoose and snake fight, Sahib" called out my would-be entertainer. Indian jugglers are so clever and their leger demain is often so astounding, that a European rarely tires of witnessing their skill. I had seen many per formances of the kind before, but they had not ceased to amuse and interest me. Having nothing special at the time to do, and not averse to while away an hour before dressing for dinner and going ashore, I offered no remonstrance when the fellow, self-invited, clambered from the boat and ascended the gangway.

His boy followed with a basket of appurtenances, and they lost no time in spreading their carpet before me and squatting down in regular professional attitude. The conjurer was a man of striking presence, tall, strong, and shapely, his swarthy clean-shaven face, with sharply-chiselled features and keen black eyes, ooking very picturesque beneath his crimson and gold turban. After his preparations he sat stolid and motionless, awaiting my order to proceed with the performance ; and with every muscle showing beneath his dark silky skin, I could not help comparing him to a bronze statue of some old Greek athlete. I gave the word, and he forthwith proceeded to afford me proofs of his conjuring skill. The mon goose and cobra part of the programme I vetoed, as I knew from experience that the sight was neither an edifying nor a pleasing one.

At juggling work proper the fellow proved to be a considerable adept. LALJEE. 5 He commenced with the usual business of keeping a number of balls in constant motion in the air, cross ing them and causing them to describe all sorts of fig ures, and never allowing one of them to reach the deck. After a time he performed a similar trick with half a score of daggers,and he tossed the gleaming murderous looking weapons about with consummate dexterity. He next gave me a display of quite another character. Spreading a white cotton sheet on the deck, he patted it all over with his hands to convince me that there was nothing under it. Then, murmuring an incantation, he commenced to fold over the corners one by one, and gradually, by what means I know not, the centre of the cloth began to assume a bulging-out appearance.

Finally, when the sheet had been folded up to about a foot-and-a-half diameter, he whipped it away, and there to my genuine astonish ment was a fine ripe pine-apple lying on the deck. The fellow straightway sliced the fruit, and with profound salaams presented me with a portion on the point of a dagger. I motioned to him to place it on a plate among the tea-things at my side. At that verymoment I fancied I caught a ferocious gleam of joy in the juggler's eyes. Involuntarily I followed the direction of his swift tiger-like glance, and quickly recognized its object. It was my native servant Laljee, who, with an ashen paleness on his face despite his brown skin, was standing at the head of the companion-ladder, with eyes riveted on the conjurer. As I turned towards him he hurriedly disappeared down the steps.

The juggler had meanwhile commenced to pack up his belongings. While he was so engaged, my curiosity being awakened, I asked him if he was acquainted with Laljee. He merely shook his head to convey the idea that he did not understand my language, and this despite the fact that he had spoken to me in broken but perfectly intelligible English from his boat before coming on board. However, all my attempts, some of them in such Hindustani as I could command, to elicit an answer proved fruitless ; and, thinking that I had perhaps after all made too much of the incident, magnifying Laljee's simple amazement at the pine-apple trick into signs of terror, I allowed the conjurer to make his final salaamsand take hisdeparture. The boat had been rowed swiftly away towards one of the bunders or landing stages near the docks, and, lost among other craft, was out of sight, when my curiosity was again set on the alert by a flash of remembrance that the conjurer had departed without one appeal for the bakhshish that was surely the ostensible object of his visit.

I had forgotten altogether about reward ing him for his display of skill, nor had he reminded me. This proceeding was one so contrary to all precedent that my suspicions were now thoroughly aroused. The juggler, I reflected, was perhaps simply plan ning a midnight visit to the yacht to carry off my valuables. Laljee clearly knew something about him. I trusted my servant implicitly, but it takes a lifetime to get to the depths of a native's mind. Perhaps after all Laljee was a confederate ; or, more likely LALJEE. 7 still from his appearance of fright, he might in some way or other be in the power of this desperado in conjurer's guise. It behoved me at all events to enquire into the matter, so I straightway despatched the punkah-hoy to summon Laljee on deck. It was some time before he made his appearance.

He came to me looking, in truth, ghastly ill. I had never seen such a change come over a human being in so short a time. His face was haggard, and his eyes had the scared look of a hunted animal. Still he advanced with no cringing fear, such as wrong-doing or thought of wrong-doing might have engendered. He quietly stood before me, and, making an evident effort to look something like his usual self, respectfully spoke the word " Sahib " in the interrogative way in which an Indian servant notifies his desire to know your orders. This man Laljee, who had been in my service for over a year, during a prolonged cruise of " The Cushie Doo " round the Indian coast and Ceylon, and as far as the Laccadive and the Maldive Islands,spoke English with remarkable fluency and accuracy. It was chiefly in consideration of this fact that I had engaged him, for, being only a bird of passage to the East, my knowledge of Hindustani was but circumscribed.

Laljee, therefore, had combined the duties of waiting at table and interpreting when occasion required. He was in every way a capital servant, and it was understood between us that he was to remain on the yacht after we left Indian waters, and even to accompany me to England when I turned the prow for home. I lost no time in asking Laljee what he knew about this soi-disant conjurer, whose spirit of altruistic benevolence asked no reward for his pains. " Sahib's said Laljee, crossing his hands resignedly across his breast, " that man will kill me. My hour has come." I pressed for an explanation, and after some trouble got from Laljee a tale which to me at the time seemed confused and incoherent, and little better than the wild imaginings of a disordered brain. I shall not attempt to clothe it in the fervid, and at times poetical language which its narrator used.

Some of the details will appear in the subsequent stages of my narrative. Meanwhile, the broad facts of the central story of this man's life will suffice. Laljee had been in the employment of the Dewan, or Vizier, of one of the less widely known Native States of Southern India. As a clerk and confidential servant of this wealthy and powerful man, he had on more than one occasion entered along with him the vaults beneath the palace in which were kept a number of large iron-bound chests containing stores of jewels and gold and silver. At the close of one of these visits, Laljee was ordered by his master to carry a heavy bag, apparently filled with treasure. The Dewan, bearing a taper, then conducted him along a passage which he had never traversed before. At the end of this there was a trap-door, through which the.

Dewan bade Laljee descend, he himself following LALJEE. 9 The servant was somewhat alarmed at the strange nature of his master's procedure, but he had no option except to obey. At the foot of some rough steps the Dewan searched for, found, and lighted a small bronze lamp, and then, extinguishing the taper, conducted his unwilling companion along what appeared to the latter some miles of a subterranean winding passage. At last, when Laljee was well nigh overcome with the weight of his load and the closeness of the atmosphere, they emerged into a vast cave, dimly lighted from a narrow aperture high above. The freer air here revived him, and being a man of resource and courage, he determined to be on his guard lest his master, whose silence and mysterious manner were calculated to inspire suspicion, should attempt to treacherously do him an injury.

The Dewan, as was his usual custom, carried by his side a long scimitar in a richly-jewelled scabbard. Laljee determined that under no circumstances would he allow his eye to depart for one instant from the handle of that weapon — he would be on the alert the moment it was to be drawn. After a brief pause, Laljee again, by the direction of the Dewan, advanced with his burden, and they entered another passage, in which the only light was afforded by the little bronze lamp. Here the sound of running water smote upon his ears, and though in the semi-darkness he could see no stream, it was evident that a subterranean river of considerable volume flowed through the tortuous, cavernous corridors. At last the Dewan cried halt, and entering a small side cave directed Laljee to lay down his burden.

As the servant stooped in the act of complying, the gleam of the lamp for an instant fell on the pavement beneath, and to his consternation he saw it was drenched with blood. He started up from the bending posture he had momentarily assumed, and at the same instant saw the Dewan's hand glide towards his scimitar. The affrighted man waited not a second, but darted forward into the darkness and along a winding passage, against the sides of which he frequently stumbled, bruising face and hands and body. He had not traversed twenty yards when he fell headlong over a heap of what he took to be boulders. For a moment he lay stunned, and his pursuer was upon him. But the desperate fugitive grappled with his assailant, and in the furious struggle which ensued the lamp fell to the ground. By its light Laljee felt his blood fairly curdle with horror when he saw that what he had taken to be boulders were human skulls, in every ghastly stage of decomposition.

Moreover, in that one brief second he recognised the features of the head nearest to which the lamp lay ; it was that of a younger brother who had mysteriously disappeared, no one knew how or whither, only a few days previously. With a yell of ter ror and one superhuman effort, Laljee flung his oppo nent from him. The Dewan fell upon and extinguished the lamp, and his intended victim dashed over his pros trate form, and, turning on his tracks, made for the main corridorin whichhe hadheard the sound of flowing water. Guided by the splash of the stream he groped his LALJEE. 11 way along, and at last found himself once more in the great central cave into which a slant of sunshine fell from the aperture in the roof. In a moment he had dashed across this open space. Then — he never knew how he accomplished the feat — he seemed to spring some yards from the ground and grasp a projecting ledge.

With a desperate exertion of strength, he gained this point of vantage, and lay there breathless and exhausted for a brief space. Soon he saw the Dewan emerge frantically from the passage, his drawn scimitar gleaming in the dim light. He was gazing round for his victim, and rolling forth a volley of curses. Meanwhile, Laljee lay petrified with terror, unable to move a muscle. For some minutes the disappointed Dewan rushed, in aimless rage, up and down and around the cavern. At last he became calmer, and, returning to the passage, began slowly and cautiously to trace the direction of the fugitive's steps, which had left their imprint in the damp, sandy soil. Laljee, like a pigeon spell-bound by a snake, saw his destroyer come nearer and nearer to his place of hiding without having the power to make an effort for his preservation.

At last a fierce vindictive " Ah ! " from his pursuer told him he was discovered. But the Dewan, even with his scimitar, could not reach the servant's crouching form high above his head. After some futile efforts to strike at his victim, the would-be murderer hit upon another plan to accomplish his fell end. He dropped his scimitar, and, stooping to pick up a stone the size of a man's fist, hurled it at Laljee with tremendous force. It missed his head by an inch or two, and the unhappy fellow saw that he would inevitably be brought to ground by a few more such missiles. In one last desperate bid for life he sprang at another projection some feet above him, and by a providential mercy gained a hold. He soon pulled his body up, and to his delight he saw that from this point a narrow winding ledge ran upwards.

A goat, or a man escaping from certain death behind him, might traverse such a path. To Laljee it was simply do or die, and he ventured it. As he crept onwards and upwards like a cat, the stones thrown by his baffled antagonist rained around him, but none did him serious hurt. Still he was bruised and battered when he found himself out of range, and the missiles vainly striking against the rock some distance beneath him. He heard the curses of the Dewan, and his threats that the fugitive certainly should not escape his vengeance ; and he realized that even if he did gain the open air his would-be assassin would scour the country for him with his troops, who would slay him before he could open his lips to protest his innocence of any wrong doing against their master. As he knew that the shades of evening would soon be falling, Laljee reflected that, if he were to get clear of the place, no time must be lost.

So, gathering all his last energies together, he recommenced his toilsome upward climb, and after a terrible ordeal of nerve and endurance he actually gained the cleft which admitted light into the cavern beneath. LALJEE. 13 He found himself in the open air high up a mountain side. Around him was nothing but dense jungle, and he could not recognise where he was. One thing he observed, and this was, that on the face of a great precipice towering sheer upwards from the little plateau on which he lay, was some inscription in strange letters whose meaning he did not understand. For one mo ment it gleamed bright in the direct rays of the setting sun. Then the writing on the rock became blurred and dim, for the sun now sank behind a mountain-top right opposite, and darkness gradually enshrouded the precipice and all the hills around.

He knew not whither he went, but he recognised that he must lose not a moment in fleeing from the spot where he now lay, as the place would for certain be well known to the Dewan. All that night he crept on and on through the tangled jungle, bleeding and bruised, his feet lacerated by the thorny undergrowth, and savage animals of all kinds prowling around him. During the succeeding day he hid in a deep nullah, where he picked up a scanty meal of wild fruits and berries. So he proceeded for a week, stealing along by night, lying concealed by day, till he gained a village whose name he did not know. It stood on the banks of a considerable river, and with a jewelled ring he wore on his ear he purchased a passage down stream by a nativetradingboat. At last, after emerging from the river into an inlet from the ocean, he reached the sea-board, whence he made his way by a coasting craft to Calcutta.

All this happened, it would seem, rather more than three years prior to the evening when Laljee, standing on the deck of " The Cushie Doo," told me the almost incredible story of his adventure and escape. After the event, he was servant to an Englishman in Calcutta for nearly eighteen months. During that time he learned English, but he never breathed one word as to his previous life. He had a conviction that the Dewan would by his emissaries search the length and breadth of India to compass his death, and so preserve the secret of which Laljee had in so ghastly a manner got an inkling. The hunted man — for even in the bazaars of Calcutta he knew he was hunted — lived the most quiet and retired of lives. But at last, in the person of a borah who gained access to his master's verandah on the plea of offering some curios for sale, he recog nized, notwithstanding a skilful disguise, an individual whom he perfectly remembered as a hanger-on of the Dewan's establishment — a brave and unscrupulous fel low, who was well known to have been the agent of the minister in more than one dark and mysterious service.

Laljee by good luck on this occasion observed the man without himself being observed, and that same night he fled from Calcutta for dear life. Some months later, in an up-country military cantonment, where he had entered the service of an officer, he had an equally narrow escape, again thanks to his unceas ing vigilance — his pursuer this time being disguised as an agent for the sale of horses. And now I was in formed this same man, the emissary of the Dewan, and undoubtedly bent on compassing Laljee's death, had LALJEE. 15 been on board " The Cushie Doo " in the guise of a conjurer. That ferocious gleam in the fellow's eye, then, which I myself had been struck with, marked the moment when the scoundrel had recognized the victim whom he had dogged sleeplessly and ceaselessly through India for three long years.

" Sahib," concluded Laljee, " I feel sure now my hour has come. On the sea, the Kala pani that most Hindus dread, I thought I might be safe. So I was happy and contented with Sahib. But even here he tracks me. It must be I shall now die." The weird, gruesome story impressed me, though I must confess I listened to it at the time more as if it were a romance than an episode in real life. During its narration the evening had closed in, and it was now approaching the hour when I had to dine with a party of friends at the Yacht Club. So I had, perforce, to dismiss Laljee's adventures from my mind, and make a hurried change of costume. As is usual in India, my servant accompanied me to the Club, and attended me at table, even though I was the guest of friends. During the evening I pretty well forgot all about his story, and it was with much surprise I found him waiting for me in the hall at midnight when I was taking leave of my hosts.

I asked him why he had not as usual returned after dinner to the yacht in a bunder boat. With an eager look that plainly asked my protection, he said he ' felt safer to be with Sahib." So I allowed him to accompany me to the landing steps, where my gig was ordered to be in waiting, and I noticed that the poor frightened fellow kept close to me even in the boat. When we got on board, I smoked a cheroot and drank a " peg," the beautiful moonlight night wooing me to wakefulness. But at last I began to feel drowsy, and called for Laljee. He was hovering by my side, I found. " Sahib's bed all ready," he told me, and I straightway proceeded to make my toilet for the night. My cabin was on deck, and I was soon equipped in my flannel sleeping suit. With the soft, grateful sea-breeze playing over me, it was not long ere I felt myself sinking into slumber.

But I dimly remem bered seeing Laljee creep into the cabin — his sleeping mat was usually spread on one of the skylights outside — and place himself for his night's rest on the floor at my feet. I dreamily reflected that the poor fellow's head had indeed been turned with fright to make him act thus, and I had not the heart to resent his intrusion. It was well for my peace of mind that I acted in this way, for in the morning the first sight that met my horrified gaze was the murdered body of Laljee lying cold and rigid across the cabin floor. He had been stabbed right through the heart by a dagger or similar long-pointed weapon. How or when the assassin came on board and escaped the vigilance of my English sailors on watch no one knew, nor till the present day has this part of the mysterious tragedy been solved,

Chapter II. One Faint Clue

THE tragic death of Laljee on board " The Cushie Doo "of course formed the subject of a strict investigation by the authorities in Bombay. After making the terrible discovery, I ordered a boat to be got ready without delay, and directed my sailing master to go on shore, proceed to the head-quarters of the police, and bring off an Inspector. I then locked up the cabin, leaving the body of the unfortunate man in the exact position in which I had found it. During the interval of waiting, Laljee's story of the previous evening was naturally uppermost in my mind. So casually had I received the details, that I now found I remembered neither the name of the small Native State that had been the scene of his adventure, nor that of the Dewan who had, it would seem, relentlessly hunted him to death. The incidents themselves were for ever engraved upon the tablets of my memory ; but the un familiar Hindu names, of which many had occurred in the course of the narrative, had not so readily been impressed upon my mind — indeed I had never dreamed of the necessity, or rather the advisability, of retaining (17) them.

It was only now, when too late, that I regretted not having taken Laljee's strange story more in earnest. Needless to say the dread event of the night had, despite the wild improbability of the narrative, convinced me of its substantial truthfulness. The officer of police who, after a weary interval of two hours, at last came on board with the sailing master, proved to be a personal acquaintance. We had met on two or three occasions during the past few weeks at festivities at the bungalows of European or wealthy native residents of Bombay. He first paid a visit of inspection to the deck cabin, which he carefully scrutinised in every corner. He then examined the corpse, and turning it over pointed out to me with a significant " Whew ! " that the death-blow had pierced right through from breast to back, and had actually perforated the heavy rug beneath.