Confessions of a Thug. Taylor Meadows

to bring the murderers to conviction. So, as he said, we sat down on the carpet of patience, to smoke the pipe of regret, and to drown our affliction in the best way we could. Matters continued to run smoothly for the period of a year. I was considered to have succeeded to my father's rights, when, one day, the man who had been set up by Brij Lall as the real patel, in opposition to my father, arrived at the village with a body of armed men, and with orders for his installation. The villagers were too weak to resist this tyranny, and I was forced to resign all my claims to the new comer. By this time my sister had gone to the house of her father-in-law, and I sent my mother after her, for I had no longer a home. I left the village with an aching heart, to see if my father's friends, the sahoukars, could do anything for me at the court. But they, too, had changed, as I might, perhaps, have expected, and would do nothing.

      "Brij Lall, they said, was too powerful to be interfered with; and they recommended me to give up all hopes of justice, as the attempt to fix the crime of murder upon him, with the insufficient evidence I possessed, would be attended with my certain destruction. Nor would they assist me to regain my lost rights; so that I was friendless, and, as it were, forsaken in the world. I had but one resource: I joined the first band of Thugs I could discover, though I had previously not practised the profession, and I have since lived a lonely and wretched life in the world. My mother is long since dead. My sister still lives, and has some children; she is happy, and has no remembrance of the past. I pay her a visit now and then, and am received with affection and kindness. She is the only one in this world, except you, my friends, who cares for me. She believes me to be a soldier in the service of Holkar, and she will never know to the contrary. Praise be to Alla! however, my enemy has died by my own hand, and I am content, for I am revenged. Some of you, my friends, will lay me in my grave when my time comes, and it will not be long. I have lived hitherto for the deed I did last night. There is no excitement for me in the future, and it matters not how soon the old Thug is laid in the earth. This is my story, such as it is; if I have arrested your attention, and gratified the Sahib-zada, my intentions have been fulfilled, and I am content."

      The whole assembly was struck and affected by the old man's story, and all joined in consoling him for his misfortunes. But I was particularly interested in them, as they went more to convince me that the hand of Alla was upon all our doings, than even my father's history. Both were striking instances, but the Thug's particularly so. It really seemed as though Brij Lall had been given into our hands—nay, to the very hands of him he had so oppressed, to receive his punishment on earth previous to the eternal fires of Jehunum. "Henceforward," said I to myself, "no one shall have it to say of Ameer Ali that he hung back when occasion required his personal exertions. I will emulate my father, and the country shall know and feel that I am a scourge on its wickedness. No one shall escape me; I shall act up to the utmost of the oath I have taken, wage unrelenting war with the whole human race, and, Inshalla! they shall see whether Ameer Ali cannot lead his men on to actions which will by far surpass any of the present times, and equal those the traditions of which remain among us."

      From that day I put myself under the tuition of the Gooroo, or teacher of the band—an old Thug who was worn out with age, but had been considered to be one of the most dexterous Bhuttotes, or stranglers, who had lived within the memories of any of the men of our company. He was a Hindoo, a Rajpoot; and though his frame was dry and shrivelled, yet from his height, breadth of shoulders, and sinews, which were developed the more by the absence of flesh to cover them, it was easy to see that he had been a man of immense strength and power; and, added to this, if his great dexterity in using the handkerchief was considered, the stories of his superior prowess might easily be credited. I had hitherto not associated much with him—beyond a courteous demeanour to each other, we had been but little acquainted; so I begged my father to take me to him, deliver me over to his care, and request of him to initiate me thoroughly in the practice of a bhuttote. He was delighted at this spontaneous offer on my part, readily acceded to my wishes, and at once put me under the care of Hoosein and Roop Singh, the old Thug I have mentioned, who belonged to Hoosein's party.

      "For a few days," said my father, "I will not see you; you shall remain with them; and when you return to me, let me welcome you as ready and willing to take a part in the next affair we may be engaged in."

      The day after we began in earnest. Roop Singh repeated incantations over me. I ate no meat, indeed tasted nothing but milk for four days. Numerous sacrifices were made to the sacred pickaxe; every omen was observed, and as I sat under the trees after our daily march, scarcely a bird alighted on them but there was some conclusion drawn from it; and the appearance of different animals and birds as we commenced our march in the mornings were particularly observed and noted. I was naturally very inquisitive as to the meaning of all that was done to me and for me, but the old gooroo would not enlighten me.

      "My son," said he, "when I was your age, these ceremonies were performed over me, to make me fearless and stony-hearted, active and cunning, so as to ensnare all who came within my reach, and to avoid my enemies—to make me fortunate, and to cause me to win fame. In all these I have never failed. Two others upon whom I have performed them are rising fast to be jemadars, such is their address and courage; and you, too, will be the same; therefore ask no questions. Content yourself with knowing that everything is going on properly and to my complete satisfaction, for I have not observed one unfavourable omen."

      On the fifth morning, the handkerchief was put into my hand; and, after having been bathed, anointed with sweet-smelling oils, and marked on the forehead with vermilion, as a votary of Bhowanee, I was declared a Bhuttote.

      "One thing I forgot," said the old man, laughing, as he gave me the cloth, "and that was the principal perhaps. I have not shown you how to use it, and I have a peculiar knack of my own, which is easily communicated. You will soon learn it."

      He took the cloth, tied a large knot at one end, with a piece of silver inserted in it; this he held in his left hand, the plain end being in his right, and about as much space between them as would nearly compass a man's neck: the closed hands had the palms uppermost.

      "Now," said he, "mark this; and when you throw the cloth from behind, and have got it tight, suddenly turn your knuckles into the neck, giving a sharp wrench to either side that may be most convenient. If done in a masterly manner, instant death ensues."

      I took the cloth, and held it as he directed, but it did not please him. "Give it me back, that I may show you more exactly on your own neck," said he.

      "Indeed, no," cried I, laughing; "you might think I was a traveller, and have me down in an instant, without intending it; but I perfectly understand the method."

      "Then try it on me, Ameer Ali; I shall see by the position of your hands whether you know anything about it."

      I obeyed him; the old man shook his head and laughed. "That will never do; you could not kill a child in that way," he said: "when you feel my hands round your neck you will understand."

      So I submitted with as good a grace as I could, though I did not at all like the idea. My blood ran cold through me as I felt his chill, clammy hands about my neck. But he did not hurt me, and I saw where my error had been. I tried it on him as he had shown me several times, and was declared at last to be perfect.

      "Now you only want practice, Ameer Ali," said he.

      "Inshalla! Roop Singh," I replied, "we shall have plenty of it. One beginning, and I fear not for the rest. Like a tiger, which once having tasted human blood will if possible take no other, and runs every risk to get it, so I feel it will be with me." And it was so. Sahib! I knew myself—I had spoken truly.

CHAPTER VI.

       Table of Contents

      Nothing of any moment occurred during the rest of our march to Nagpoor, if I except the deaths of a few solitary travellers, who had fallen by the hands of a small portion of the band who had been sent to another road which ran parallel to the one on which we marched; and as I know no particulars of them worth mentioning, I shall at once lead you, Sahib, to our encampment at Nagpoor. Outside the city is a large tank, on the