Confessions of a Thug. Taylor Meadows

struggling in the agonies of death. Not a sound escaped them but an indistinct gurgling in their throats; and as the Bhuttotes quitted their fatal hold, after a few moments, others, who had been waiting for the purpose, took up the bodies and bore them away to the already-prepared grave.

      "Now for the rest," cried my father in a low tone: "some of you rush on the servants; see that no noise is made; the bullock-driver and others can be dealt with easily."

      Some of the men ran to the place the khayet had chosen, and surrounded the unsuspecting cart-driver and the other servants, who were cooking under a tree. I saw and heard a scuffle; but they also were all dead ere they could cry out.

      "Come!" said my father and Hoosein, taking me by the arms and hurrying me along; "come and see how they are disposed of."

      I went, or was rather dragged along, to one side of our encampment, where there was a ravine some feet deep, in the bottom of which a hole had been dug, and by the side of which eight bodies were lying. The father and son, his two wives, the bullock-driver, two male servants, and an old woman; also a servant, who was in the inclosure with the women. The bodies were nearly naked, and presented a ghastly spectacle, as they lay in a confused heap, but just visible from the brink of the ravine.

      "Are they all here?" asked my father.

      "Yes, Khodawund," said one of the Lughaees, whom I knew.

      "Then in with them!" cried my father; and they were quickly deposited in their last resting-place, the head of one over the feet of another, so that they might lie close.

      "We had better open them," said the Lugha, "for the ground is loose and they will swell."

      So gashes were made in their abdomens, and the earth quickly filled in on them; it was stamped down, the top smoothed, and in a few moments no one could have discovered that eight human beings had been secreted beneath the spot. We turned away from it, and every one betook himself to repose.

      Sahib, can I describe to you how I passed that night? Do what I would, the father and son appeared before me; the old man's voice rung in my ears, and the son's large eyes seemed to be fixed on mine. I felt as though a thousand shitans sat on my breast, and sleep would not come to my eyes. It appeared so cold-blooded, so unprovoked a deed, that I could not reconcile myself in any way to have become even a silent spectator of it. Yet my father had joined in it—my father whom I loved intensely, and Hoosein too. But all would not do; I could not tranquillize myself. I crept from beneath our little tent, and sat down in the open air. The moon shone brightly as ever, as now and then she emerged from beneath a passing cloud, and there was a cool breeze which fanned my burning face and soothed me. I watched her as she appeared to travel along in the heavens, till she became overcast; and a few heavy drops of rain, as if she wept over the deed she had witnessed, drove me again under the tent. I crept close to my father, who was sound asleep, and embracing him with my arms, sleep came to my eyelids, and I woke not till the usual hour of prayer arrived, when I was roused by my father to join in the morning supplication.

      We spread our carpets, and I repeated the form with him; but my thoughts were with the old man and his son, and the event of the preceding night. Immediately after it was over our horses were saddled, and we set out on what proved to be a long march; for it was necessary to get as far as possible from Guneshpoor, that no suspicion might attach to us. In due time we arrived at the stage, and a man was sent into the town to purchase one rupee and a quarter's worth of goor or coarse sugar: what this was intended for I could not imagine, but it was soon made known to me when I asked my father.

      "This," said he, "is the sacrifice of the Tupounee, in which we all join after any adventure similar to what you saw last night; it is a rite of the utmost solemnity, and must never be neglected."

      The man returned with the sugar, and a place having been chosen, Bhudrinath, the bearer of the khussee, was seated on a blanket spread for him, his face towards the west. All the best men and noted Bhuttotes seated themselves on each side of him, looking in the same direction as he did. My father then made a small hole in the ground near the blanket, upon which was placed the sacred pickaxe and the pile of sugar, and a piece of silver as an offering. A little of the sugar was then put into the hole by my father; he raised his clasped hands to heaven and in a supplicatory manner cried aloud—

      "Powerful and mighty goddess! who hast for ages vouchsafed thy protection unto thy votaries, and who particularly to Joora Naig and Khudeek Bunwaree gavest one lakh and sixty thousand rupees in their need, we beseech thee in like manner to aid us, and fulfil our desires!"

      This prayer was devoutly repeated by all around, and my father taking water in his hand sprinkled it upon the pickaxe and into the hole; he then took pieces of the sugar and presented them to each of the Thugs in succession, who ate it in silence. They then drank some water, and the pile of sugar was distributed among the rest of the assembled band, who likewise ate their portions in silent reverence—all except myself; for not having as yet strangled a man, I was not eligible to partake of it with the rest. However, my father had reserved a portion of his own for me, which he made me eat. After I had swallowed it, he said—

      "You have eaten the goor, and are now a Thug in your heart; were you to desire to forsake us you could not, such is the power it has, when consecrated as you have seen it over the hearts of men. Were any one to find a portion and eat it, whatever might be his rank or condition in life, he would assuredly become a Thug; he could not avoid it, the power it would exercise over him would be irresistible."

      "This is wonderful indeed," said I; "have such things been known?"

      "I could relate hundreds of instances, had I time," he replied; "but ask Hoosein, or any one, they will all tell you the same."

      In the evening, when all were assembled as usual, my father took me to task about my faint-heartedness, as he termed it. "This will never do, my son," said he; "you who ran in upon the tiger so nobly ought not to shrink from such child's-play as this; you must be a man, and behave better, and remember you have eaten the goor."

      "For shame, brother!" said Hoosein; "do not speak so to the Sahib-zada; remember you were no better yourself at first; do you not recollect the business at——, and what difficulty I had to persuade Gunesha that you were in reality good stuff? Let the Sahib-zada but see one or two more of these affairs, and he will be quite a different person, he will become a tiger at the work. I do not fear, my son," said he, turning to me and slapping me on the back; "worse men than you have begun better, and ended in being chicken-hearted fellows, only fit to dig graves and be scouts. Old Hoosein never yet was mistaken in any one, and you, Inshalla! will surpass your father. Only let him," continued he, again addressing my father, "let him see one or two more affairs, and then try his hand himself; you will then see whether I am wrong or not."

      "It is well," exclaimed my father; "believe me, my son, I meant not to upbraid you, but I was fearful the feeling you displayed might grow upon you; be kind as you will to those around you, affectionate to your connections; pity the poor, give alms to the needy; but remember that you are a Thug, and have sworn relentless destruction to all those whom Alla may throw in your way."

      "I am rebuked," said I, "and your words have sunk into my heart; never more shall you have to say of me that I flinched from my duty. Whenever you think fit I am ready to take the handkerchief." And to turn the subject, I said, "I beg to represent, that Mahomed the Bhuttote promised to tell me some history of the man who died last night, and I call on him to fulfil his word."

      "Well spoken!" cried a dozen of the men; "Mahomed is a sure hand at a story—let us have it."

      Mahomed, after stuffing a large quantity of pan-leaf and tobacco into his mouth, crunched it several times between his teeth, and after a copious discharge of red saliva, settled himself upon his heels, and, addressing my father, spoke, as nearly as I can remember, as follows:—

      "I was born at Boree, which is a small village in the Nagpoor territory: my father was a Thug, as you all know, and my ancestors were the same for generations before. Tales of their feats have been handed down in our family from father to son, and they are worth relating, but they have nothing to do with my story. They had been prosperous, however,