‘How big can pig grow?’ asked Hervey, already surprised by the idea of one standing even two feet at the shoulder.
‘I have killed one that measured forty inches.’
Hervey made a rapid calculation, and concluded that such a pig, if it were to charge him on this pony, would gore him in his thigh, and almost certainly would be heavy enough to bowl them both over.
‘The biggest pig in India are to be found in these parts, although Nagpore has recorded the largest — forty- four inches, I believe it was.’
Hervey wished he had his carbine with him. He did not suppose the sabre at his side would make much of an impression on a boar that size.
‘Once a pig is flushed then the nearest man must get onto his line at once and press him for all he’s worth. If he gets his wind he’ll take you a long way, and you’ll need to settle down to his pace and keep close. You’ve got to see the ground — waving grass, dust and the like — to keep you on his line. Believe me, it’s a lot more than merely chasing like a lunatic.’
‘And how is the lance used?’
‘It’s not a lance, rather a spear. And different ways are favoured depending on what country you’re hunting in. A decade or so ago you would only see throwing-spears, but now it’s the practice to close with the hog and spear him from the saddle. In Chintal, for the most part, a short spear is carried, and used overhand for jobbing. There’s much thick cover, and it’s generally preferred if a pig charges. In open country, such as that in the Bombay presidency and in the north, the long spear, couched, is better. In Chintal we usually have a couple of long spears out, too, for they can be handy when a boar is running away in the open.’
‘I imagine that one can carry through the weight of the horse’s speed better in the long spear,’ suggested Hervey.
‘Ah, but it’s a mistake to think that brute strength is all. With a jobbing spear it should be more the rapier than the bludgeon. The merest touch through the heart or the lungs — or, indeed, the spine — ought to be sufficient. But more of spears anon. I want only today to show you how a sounder breaks and how to get onto the line of a good-size boar.’
As they came through to the far edge of the sugar cane, Selden had just embarked on an explanation of riding second in the hunt. He was intent on emphasizing the sovereign importance, in awkward ground or thick cover, of riding wide or behind the spear who was on the pig to give him all the time he needed. ‘But as soon as the pig’s into easier country you must challenge the man who is “on” at once. Make the pace as hot as you can! You may override the odd young boar who doesn’t know when to make for cover, but you’ll kill more pig that way than by trying to wear him down.’
‘I cannot wait!’ declared Hervey, wishing they were carrying spears now.
So intent on his instruction was Selden that what happened next took him wholly by surprise. A big old boar — Hervey’s weight and then half again — burst from the cane to their left and took off across the kadir like a greyhound on a hare. Hervey (or perhaps it was his pony) did not hesitate for a second, and they were at full stretch in less than a dozen strides. Selden was close behind, however, shouting for him to ride on a loose rein. He had, in any case, instinctively begun to do so, for even in the relatively open country into which the pig was heading there was little he could see of the ground as it came at him.
After half a mile the boar ran into a cotton-field. Hervey checked for an instant to be sure of its line, for he could not see any of the grass moving. Then he saw the merest, but tell-tale, waving ahead and to his right, and he spurred his pony to flatten out once more, leaning so far forward himself as to be almost head to head with it. Out onto the plain rushed the boar again. Hervey began to make up ground but there was another patch of dhak ahead and off to the right. He saw the boar check, as if trying to decide whether to turn for it. The instinct was too strong merely to continue chasing, and he reached for his sabre. The pig’s momentary hesitation cost it the distance over his pursuer, and as it jinked right for the dhak Hervey managed to give him the point of his sword in the loins.
‘Spear well forward next, Hervey!’ shouted Selden, close up behind and already turning for the dhak. ‘He’ll crouch in that cover. Go through and wait for him to break the other side. I’ll wait to see if he doubles back.’
Hervey galloped round the dhak to take post in a nullah beyond. His pony was blowing, but still, he sensed, she had plenty in reserve. He had yet to accustom himself to her lack of shoulder, though, and he scolded himself for misjudging his sabring, for he had put his leg on precisely at the moment of driving home the thrust, and the mare had not responded as would Jessye. He would have liked to dismount to give her a little respite, but he knew enough not to. He was not there more than a minute when the boar, squatting close by but unobserved, jumped up and charged. Though Selden had not got so far in his instruction as to explain how to take a charging pig, Hervey swung round instinctively to meet it at an angle rather than head-on, and dug his spurs hard into his pony’s flanks. Even though her momentum would have been nothing to that of Selden’s Turkoman, the sabre went deep into the boar’s shoulder. But still it fought, and he had to struggle for all he was worth to keep his leg on, pressing the pony up close to use the weight to hold off the furious animal.
The struggle seemed to last an age, with no sign of the boar’s weakening. Until Selden galloped up and gave him a thrust with his own sabre. The pig staggered and then fell dead with Hervey’s sword still deep in his shoulder. Indeed, when Hervey dismounted and pulled it out there was more than a foot of grease on the blade.
‘Hervey, let that be a lesson to you. I wonder that your sword didn’t break. Mine has not been out of its scabbard except to salute since coming here, and I shouldn’t have wished to trust to its tensility!’
Hervey smiled sheepishly.
‘But by heavens, what a run you gave him! He’s no squeaker, and he had a lifetime of rancour in him — of that there’s no doubt. I’ll be able to tell the rajah that you tackled a boar without benefit of a spear. He’ll be mightily stirred if I am not much mistaken. And his daughter, the raj kumari — she’ll be gratified her best pony rode so faithfully.’
Hervey looked pleased. ‘And what do we now do with our quarry?’
Selden pointed to the village a quarter of a mile away. ‘They shall have pig for the rest of the week. Come, let’s go and tell them. We shall drink their rus while they bear him in, and wait for them to cut and boil out the tushes. See, I reckon those will be all of nine inches. The raj kumari will be much favoured by them.’ And then another thought occurred to him: ‘Hervey, why don’t you return with me to Chintalpore to make these presents in person? The place will quite beguile you!’
VIII. DESPATCHES
