Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own People

  THE MARK OF THE BEAST

  Your Gods and my Gods-do you or I know which are the stronger? NativeProverb.

  EAST of Suez, some hold, the direct control of Providence ceases; Manbeing there handed over to the power of the Gods and Devils of Asia,and the Church of England Providence only exercising an occasional andmodified supervision in the case of Englishmen.

  This theory accounts for some of the more unnecessary horrors of life inIndia: it may be stretched to explain my story.

  My friend Strickland of the Police, who knows as much of natives ofIndia as is good for any man, can bear witness to the facts of the case.Dumoise, our doctor, also saw what Strickland and I saw. The inferencewhich he drew from the evidence was entirely incorrect. He is dead now;he died, in a rather curious manner, which has been elsewhere described.

  When Fleete came to India he owned a little money and some land in theHimalayas, near a place called Dharmsala. Both properties had been lefthim by an uncle, and he came out to finance them. He was a big, heavy,genial, and inoffensive man. His knowledge of natives was, of course,limited, and he complained of the difficulties of the language.

  He rode in from his place in the hills to spend New Year in the station,and he stayed with Strickland. On New Year's Eve there was a big dinnerat the club, and the night was excusably wet. When men foregather fromthe uttermost ends of the Empire, they have a right to be riotous. TheFrontier had sent down a contingent o' Catch-'em-Alive-O's who had notseen twenty white faces for a year, and were used to ride fifteen milesto dinner at the next Fort at the risk of a Khyberee bullet where theirdrinks should lie. They profited by their new security, for they triedto play pool with a curled-up hedgehog found in the garden, and oneof them carried the marker round the room in his teeth. Half a dozenplanters had come in from the south and were talking 'horse' to theBiggest Liar in Asia, who was trying to cap all their stories at once.Everybody was there, and there was a general closing up of ranks andtaking stock of our losses in dead or disabled that had fallen duringthe past year. It was a very wet night, and I remember that we sang'Auld Lang Syne' with our feet in the Polo Championship Cup, and ourheads among the stars, and swore that we were all dear friends. Thensome of us went away and annexed Burma, and some tried to open up theSoudan and were opened up by Fuzzies in that cruel scrub outside Suakim,and some found stars and medals, and some were married, which was bad,and some did other things which were worse, and the others of us stayedin our chains and strove to make money on insufficient experiences.

  Fleete began the night with sherry and bitters, drank champagne steadilyup to dessert, then raw, rasping Capri with all the strength of whisky,took Benedictine with his coffee, four or five whiskies and sodas toimprove his pool strokes, beer and bones at half-past two, winding upwith old brandy. Consequently, when he came out, at half-past three inthe morning, into fourteen degrees of frost, he was very angry with hishorse for coughing, and tried to leapfrog into the saddle. The horsebroke away and went to his stables; so Strickland and I formed a Guardof Dishonour to take Fleete home.

  Our road lay through the bazaar, close to a little temple of Hanuman,the Monkey-god, who is a leading divinity worthy of respect. All godshave good points, just as have all priests. Personally, I attach muchimportance to Hanuman, and am kind to his people--the great gray apes ofthe hills. One never knows when one may want a friend.

  There was a light in the temple, and as we passed, we could hear voicesof men chanting hymns. In a native temple, the priests rise at all hoursof the night to do honour to their god. Before we could stop him, Fleetedashed up the steps, patted two priests on the back, and was gravelygrinding the ashes of his cigar-butt into the forehead of the red stoneimage of Hanuman. Strickland tried to drag him out, but he sat down andsaid solemnly:

  'Shee that? 'Mark of the B-beasht! _I_ made it. Ishn't it fine?'

  In half a minute the temple was alive and noisy, and Strickland, whoknew what came of polluting gods, said that things might occur. He,by virtue of his official position, long residence in the country, andweakness for going among the natives, was known to the priests and hefelt unhappy. Fleete sat on the ground and refused to move. He said that'good old Hanuman' made a very soft pillow.

  Then, without any warning, a Silver Man came out of a recess behind theimage of the god. He was perfectly naked in that bitter, bitter cold,and his body shone like frosted silver, for he was what the Bible calls'a leper as white as snow.' Also he had no face, because he was a leperof some years' standing and his disease was heavy upon him. We twostooped to haul Fleete up, and the temple was filling and filling withfolk who seemed to spring from the earth, when the Silver Man ran inunder our arms, making a noise exactly like the mewing of an otter,caught Fleete round the body and dropped his head on Fleete's breastbefore we could wrench him away. Then he retired to a corner and satmewing while the crowd blocked all the doors.

  The priests were very angry until the Silver Man touched Fleete. Thatnuzzling seemed to sober them.

  At the end of a few minutes' silence one of the priests came toStrickland and said, in perfect English, 'Take your friend away. He hasdone with Hanuman, but Hanurnan has not done with him.' The crowd gaveroom and we carried Fleete into the road.

  Strickland was very angry. He said that we might all three have beenknifed, and that Fleete should thank his stars that he had escapedwithout injury.

  Fleete thanked no one. He said that he wanted to go to bed. He wasgorgeously drunk.

  We moved on, Strickland silent and wrathful, until Fleete was takenwith violent shivering fits and sweating. He said that the smells ofthe bazaar were overpowering, and he wondered why slaughter-houses werepermitted so near English residences. 'Can't you smell the blood?' saidFleete.

  We put him to bed at last, just as the dawn was breaking, and Stricklandinvited me to have another whisky and soda. While we were drinking hetalked of the trouble in the temple, and admitted that it baffled himcompletely. Strickland hates being mystified by natives, because hisbusiness in life is to overmatch them with their own weapons. He has notyet succeeded in doing this, but in fifteen or twenty years he will havemade some small progress.

  'They should have mauled us,' he said, 'instead of mewing at us. Iwonder what they meant. I don't like it one little bit.'

  I said that the Managing Committee of the temple would in allprobability bring a criminal action against us for insulting theirreligion. There was a section of the Indian Penal Code which exactlymet Fleete's offence. Strickland said he only hoped and prayed that theywould do this. Before I left I looked into Fleete's room, and saw himlying on his right side, scratching his left breast. Then. I went to bedcold, depressed, and unhappy, at seven o'clock in the morning.

  At one o'clock I rode over to Strickland's house to inquire afterFleete's head. I imagined that it would be a sore one. Fleete wasbreakfasting and seemed unwell. His temper was gone, for he was abusingthe cook for not supplying him with an underdone chop. A man who caneat raw meat after a wet night is a curiosity. I told Fleete this and helaughed.

  'You breed queer mosquitoes in these parts,' he said. 'I've been bittento pieces, but only in one place.'

  'Let's have a look at the bite,' said Strickland. 'It may have gone downsince this morning.'

  While the chops were being cooked, Fleete opened his shirt and showedus, just over his left breast, a mark, the perfect double of the blackrosettes--the five or six irregular blotches arranged in a circle--ona leopard's hide. Strickland looked and said, 'It was only pink thismorning. It's grown black now.'

  Fleete ran to a glass.

  'By Jove!' he said,' this is nasty. What is it?'

  We could not answer. Here the chops came in, all red and juicy, andFleete bolted three in a most offensive manner. He ate on his rightgrinders only, and threw his head over his right shoulder as he snappedthe meat. When he had finished, it struck him that he had been behavingstrangely, for he said apologetically, 'I don't think I ever felt sohungry in my life. I've bolted
like an ostrich.'

  After breakfast Strickland said to me, 'Don't go. Stay here, and stayfor the night.'

  Seeing that my house was not three miles from Strickland's, this requestwas absurd. But Strickland insisted, and was going to say something whenFleete interrupted by declaring in a shamefaced way that he felt hungryagain. Strickland sent a man to my house to fetch over my bedding and ahorse, and we three went down to Strickland's stables to pass the hoursuntil it was time to go out for a ride. The man who has a weakness forhorses never wearies of inspecting them; and when two men are killingtime in this way they gather knowledge and lies the one from the other.

  There were five horses in the stables, and I shall never forget thescene as we tried to look them over. They seemed to have gone mad. Theyreared and screamed and nearly tore up their pickets; they sweated andshivered and lathered and were distraught with fear. Strickland'shorses used to know him as well as his dogs; which made the matter morecurious. We left the stable for fear of the brutes throwing themselvesin their panic. Then Strickland turned back and called me. The horseswere still frightened, but they let us 'gentle' and make much of them,and put their heads in our bosoms.

  'They aren't afraid of US,' said Strickland. 'D'you know, I'd give threemonths' pay if OUTRAGE here could talk.'

  But Outrage was dumb, and could only cuddle up to his master and blowout his nostrils, as is the custom of horses when they wish to explainthings but can't. Fleete came up when we were in the stalls, and as soonas the horses saw him, their fright broke out afresh. It was all that wecould do to escape from the place unkicked. Strickland said, 'They don'tseem to love you, Fleete.'

  'Nonsense,' said Fleete;'my mare will follow me like a dog.' He wentto her; she was in a loose-box; but as he slipped the bars she plunged,knocked him down, and broke away into the garden. I laughed, butStrickland was not amused. He took his moustache in both fists andpulled at it till it nearly came out. Fleete, instead of going off tochase his property, yawned, saying that he felt sleepy. He went to thehouse to lie down, which was a foolish way of spending New Year's Day.

  Strickland sat with me in the stables and asked if I had noticedanything peculiar in Fleete's manner. I said that he ate his food likea beast; but that this might have been the result of living alone in thehills out of the reach of society as refined and elevating as ours forinstance. Strickland was not amused. I do not think that he listened tome, for his next sentence referred to the mark on Fleete's breast, andI said that it might have been caused by blister-flies, or that it waspossibly a birth-mark newly born and now visible for the first time.We both agreed that it was unpleasant to look at, and Strickland foundoccasion to say that I was a fool.

  'I can't tell you what I think now,' said he, 'because you would call mea madman; but you must stay with me for the next few days, if you can.I want you to watch Fleete, but don't tell me what you think till I havemade up my mind.'

  'But I am dining out to-night,' I said. 'So am I,' said Strickland, 'andso is Fleete. At least if he doesn't change his mind.'

  We walked about the garden smoking, but saying nothing--because we werefriends, and talking spoils good tobacco--till our pipes were out. Thenwe went to wake up Fleete. He was wide awake and fidgeting about hisroom.

  'I say, I want some more chops,' he said. 'Can I get them?'

  We laughed and said, 'Go and change. The ponies will be round in aminute.'

  'All right,' said Fleete. I'll go when I get the chops--underdone ones,mind.'

  He seemed to be quite in earnest. It was four o'clock, and we had hadbreakfast at one; still, for a long time, he demanded those underdonechops. Then he changed into riding clothes and went out into theverandah. His pony--the mare had not been caught--would not let him comenear. All three horses were unmanageable---mad with fear---and finallyFleete said that he would stay at home and get something to eat.Strickland and I rode out wondering. As we passed the temple of Hanuman,the Silver Man came out and mewed at us.

  'He is not one of the regular priests of the temple,' said Strickland.'I think I should peculiarly like to lay my hands on him.'

  There was no spring in our gallop on the racecourse that evening. Thehorses were stale, and moved as though they had been ridden out.

  'The fright after breakfast has been too much for them,' saidStrickland.

  That was the only remark he made through the remainder of the ride. Onceor twice I think he swore to himself; but that did not count.

  We came back in the dark at seven o'clock, and saw that there wereno lights in the bungalow. 'Careless ruffians my servants are!' saidStrickland.

  My horse reared at something on the carriage drive, and Fleete stood upunder its nose.

  'What are you doing, grovelling about the garden?' said Strickland.

  But both horses bolted and nearly threw us. We dismounted by thestables and returned to Fleete, who was on his hands and knees under theorange-bushes.

  'What the devil's wrong with you?' said Strickland.

  'Nothing, nothing in the world,' said Fleete, speaking very quicklyand thickly. 'I've been gardening-botanising you know. The smell ofthe earth is delightful. I think I'm going for a walk-a long walk-allnight.'

  Then I saw that there was something excessively out of order somewhere,and I said to Strickland, 'I am not dining out.'

  'Bless you!' said Strickland. 'Here, Fleete, get up. You'll catch feverthere. Come in to dinner and let's have the lamps lit. We 'll all dineat home.'

  Fleete stood up unwillingly, and said, 'No lamps-no lamps. It's muchnicer here. Let's dine outside and have some more chops-lots of 'em andunderdone--bloody ones with gristle.'

  Now a December evening in Northern India is bitterly cold, and Fleete'ssuggestion was that of a maniac.

  'Come in,' said Strickland sternly. 'Come in at once.'

  Fleete came, and when the lamps were brought, we saw that he wasliterally plastered with dirt from head to foot. He must have beenrolling in the garden. He shrank from the light and went to his room.His eyes were horrible to look at. There was a green light behind them,not in them, if you understand, and the man's lower lip hung down.

  Strickland said, 'There is going to be trouble-big trouble-to-night.Don't you change your riding-things.'

  We waited and waited for Fleete's reappearance, and ordered dinner inthe meantime. We could hear him moving about his own room, but there wasno light there. Presently from the room came the long-drawn howl of awolf.

  People write and talk lightly of blood running cold and hair standing upand things of that kind. Both sensations are too horrible to be trifledwith. My heart stopped as though a knife had been driven through it, andStrickland turned as white as the tablecloth.

  The howl was repeated, and was answered by another howl far across thefields.

  That set the gilded roof on the horror. Strickland dashed into Fleete'sroom. I followed, and we saw Fleete getting out of the window. He madebeast-noises in the back of his throat. He could not answer us when weshouted at him. He spat.

  I don't quite remember what followed, but I think that Strickland musthave stunned him with the long boot-jack or else I should never havebeen able to sit on his chest. Fleete could not speak, he could onlysnarl, and his snarls were those of a wolf, not of a man. The humanspirit must have been giving way all day and have died out with thetwilight. We were dealing with a beast that had once been Fleete.

  The affair was beyond any human and rational experience. I tried to say'Hydrophobia,' but the word wouldn't come, because I knew that I waslying.

  We bound this beast with leather thongs of the punkah-rope, and tiedits thumbs and big toes together, and gagged it with a shoe-horn,which makes a very efficient gag if you know how to arrange it. Then wecarried it into the dining-room, and sent a man to Dumoise, the doctor,telling him to come over at once. After we had despatched the messengerand were drawing breath, Strickland said, 'It's no good. This isn't anydoctor's work.' I, also, knew that he spoke the truth.

  The bea
st's head was free, and it threw it about from side to side. Anyone entering the room would have believed that we were curing a wolf'spelt. That was the most loathsome accessory of all.

  Strickland sat with his chin in the heel of his fist, watching the beastas it wriggled on the ground, but saying nothing. The shirt had beentorn open in the scuffle and showed the black rosette mark on the leftbreast. It stood out like a blister.

  In the silence of the watching we heard something without mewing likea she-otter. We both rose to our feet, and, I answer for myself, notStrickland, felt sick--actually and physically sick. We told each other,as did the men in Pinafore, that it was the cat.

  Dumoise arrived, and I never saw a little man so unprofessionallyshocked. He said that it was a heart-rending case of hydrophobia, andthat nothing could be done. At least any palliative measures would onlyprolong the agony. The beast was foaming at the mouth. Fleete, as wetold Dumoise, had been bitten by dogs once or twice. Any man who keepshalf a dozen terriers must expect a nip now and again. Dumoisecould offer no help. He could only certify that Fleete was dying ofhydrophobia. The beast was then howling, for it had managed to spit outthe shoe-horn. Dumoise said that he would be ready to certify to thecause of death, and that the end was certain. He was a good little man,and he offered to remain with us; but Strickland refused the kindness.He did not wish to poison Dumoise's New Year. He would only ask him notto give the real cause of Fleete's death to the public.

  So Dumoise left, deeply agitated; and as soon as the noise of thecart-wheels had died away, Strickland told me, in a whisper, hissuspicions. They were so wildly improbable that he dared not say themout aloud; and I, who entertained all Strickland's beliefs, was soashamed of owning to them that I pretended to disbelieve.

  'Even if the Silver Man had bewtiched Fleete for polluting the image ofHanuman, the punishment could not have fallen so quickly.'

  As I was whispering this the cry outside the house rose again, and thebeast fell into a fresh paroxysm of struggling till we were afraid thatthe thongs that held it would give way.

  'Watch!' said Strickland. 'If this happens six times I shall take thelaw into my own hands. I order you to help me.'

  He went into his room and came out in a few minutes with the barrels ofan old shot-gun, a piece of fishing-line, some thick cord, and his heavywooden bedstead. I reported that the convulsions had followed the cry bytwo seconds in each case, and the beast seemed perceptibly weaker.

  Strickland muttered, 'But he can't take away the life! He can't takeaway the life!'

  I said, though I knew that I was arguing against myself, 'It may be acat. It must be a cat. If the Silver Man is responsible, why does hedare to come here?'

  Strickland arranged the wood on the hearth, put the gun-barrels intothe glow of the fire, spread the twine on the table and broke a walkingstick in two. There was one yard of fishing line, gut, lapped with wire,such as is used for mahseer-fishing, and he tied the two ends togetherin a loop.

  Then he said, 'How can we catch him? He must be taken alive and unhurt.'

  I said that we must trust in Providence, and go out softly withpolo-sticks into the shrubbery at the front of the house. The manor animal that made the cry was evidently moving round the house asregularly as a night-watchman. We could wait in the bushes till he cameby and knock him over.

  Strickland accepted this suggestion, and we slipped out from a bath-roomwindow into the front verandah and then across the carriage drive intothe bushes.

  In the moonlight we could see the leper coming round the corner ofthe house. He was perfectly naked, and from time to time he mewed andstopped to dance with his shadow. It was an unattractive sight, andthinking of poor Fleete, brought to such degradation by so foul acreature, I put away all my doubts and resolved to help Strickland fromthe heated gun-barrels to the loop of twine-from the loins to the headand back again---with all tortures that might be needful.

  The leper halted in the front porch for a moment and we jumped out onhim with the sticks. He was wonderfully strong, and we were afraid thathe might escape or be fatally injured before we caught him. We had anidea that lepers were frail creatures, but this proved to be incorrect.Strickland knocked his legs from under him and I put my foot on hisneck. He mewed hideously, and even through my riding-boots I could feelthat his flesh was not the flesh of a clean man.

  He struck at us with his hand and feet-stumps. We looped the lash of adog-whip round him, under the armpits, and dragged him backwards intothe hall and so into the dining-room where the beast lay. There we tiedhim with trunk-straps. He made no attempt to escape, but mewed.

  When we confronted him with the beast the scene was beyond description.The beast doubled backwards into a bow as though he had been poisonedwith strychnine, and moaned in the most pitiable fashion. Several otherthings happened also, but they cannot be put down here.

  'I think I was right,' said Strickland. 'Now we will ask him to curethis case.'

  But the leper only mewed. Strickland wrapped a towel round his handand took the gun-barrels out of the fire. I put the half of the brokenwalking stick through the loop of fishing-line and buckled the lepercomfortably to Strickland's bedstead. I understood then how men andwomen and little children can endure to see a witch burnt alive; for thebeast was moaning on the floor, and though the Silver Man had no face,you could see horrible feelings passing through the slab that took itsplace, exactly as waves of heat play across red-hot iron--gun-barrelsfor instance.

  Strickland shaded his eyes with his hands for a moment and we got towork. This part is not to be printed.

  The dawn was beginning to break when the leper spoke. His mewings hadnot been satisfactory up to that point. The beast had fainted fromexhaustion and the house was very still. We unstrapped the leper andtold him to take away the evil spirit. He crawled to the beast and laidhis hand upon the left breast. That was all. Then he fell face down andwhined, drawing in his breath as he did so.

  We watched the face of the beast, and saw the soul of Fleete coming backinto the eyes. Then a sweat broke out on the forehead and the eyes-theywere human eyes---closed. We waited for an hour but Fleete stillslept. We carried him to his room and bade the leper go, giving himthe bedstead, and the sheet on the bedstead to cover his nakedness, thegloves and the towels with which we had touched him, and the whip thathad been hooked round his body. He put the sheet about him and went outinto the early morning without speaking or mewing.

  Strickland wiped his face and sat down. A night-gong, far away in thecity, made seven o'clock.

  'Exactly four-and-twenty hours!' said Strickland. 'And I've done enoughto ensure my dismissal from the service, besides permanent quarters in alunatic asylum. Do you believe that we are awake?'

  The red-hot gun-barrel had fallen on the floor and was singeing thecarpet. The smell was entirely real.

  That morning at eleven we two together went to wake up Fleete. We lookedand saw that the black leopard-rosette on his chest had disappeared.He was very drowsy and tired, but as soon as he saw us, he said, 'Oh!Confound you fellows. Happy New Year to you. Never mix your liquors. I'mnearly dead.'

  'Thanks for your kindness, but you're over time,' said Strickland.'To-day is the morning of the second. You've slept the clock round witha vengeance.'

  The door opened, and little Dumoise put his head in. He had come onfoot, and fancied that we were laving out Fleete.

  'I've brought a nurse,' said Dumoise. 'I suppose that she can come infor... what is necessary.'

  'By all means,' said Fleete cheerily, sitting up in bed. 'Bring on yournurses.'

  Dumoise was dumb. Strickland led him out and explained that there musthave been a mistake in the diagnosis. Dumoise remained dumb and left thehouse hastily. He considered that his professional reputation had beeninjured, and was inclined to make a personal matter of the recovery.Strickland went out too. When he came back, he said that he had been tocall on the Temple of Hanuman to offer redress for the pollution of thegod, and had been solemnly assured
that no white man had ever touchedthe idol and that he was an incarnation of all the virtues labouringunder a delusion.

  'What do you think?' said Strickland.

  I said, '"There are more things . . ."'

  But Strickland hates that quotation. He says that I have worn itthreadbare.

  One other curious thing happened which frightened me as much as anythingin all the night's work. When Fleete was dressed he came into thedining-room and sniffed. He had a quaint trick of moving his nose whenhe sniffed. 'Horrid doggy smell, here,' said he. 'You should really keepthose terriers of yours in better order. Try sulphur, Strick.'

  But Strickland did not answer. He caught hold of the back of a chair,and, without warning, went into an amazing fit of hysterics. It isterrible to see a strong man overtaken with hysteria. Then it struck methat we had fought for Fleete's soul with the Silver Man in that room,and had disgraced ourselves as Englishmen for ever, and I laughedand gasped and gurgled just as shamefully as Strickland, while Fleetethought that we had both gone mad. We never told him what we had done.

  Some years later, when Strickland had married and was a church-goingmember of society for his wife's sake, we reviewed the incidentdispassionately, and Strickland suggested that I should put it beforethe public.

  I cannot myself see that this step is likely to clear up the mystery;because, in the first place, no one will believe a rather unpleasantstory, and, in the second, it is well known to every right-minded manthat the gods of the heathen are stone and brass, and any attempt todeal with them otherwise is justly condemned.