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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Saturday, 22 March 1902
To Oakley, shot mugger[1] [crocodile], and lost a bigger one. With Maiden[2] and one Schwaiger.
Lectured four hours on Buddhism in M[aiden]'s drawing-room.
1—The mugger crocodile (Crocodylus palustris), also called the Indian, Indus, Persian, Sindhu, marsh crocodile or simply mugger, is found throughout the Indian subcontinent and the surrounding countries. 2—The proprietor of the hotel where Crowley was staying.
On Saturday I went off to Oakley, magar-shooting. Maiden, the proprietor of the Hotel, came with me and provided most admirable tiffin. I lent him my Mauser, and relied myself upon the .577. After getting permission from the Engineer in charge of the Canal Works, we put off in a small boat and rowed up the stream. Very soon we saw a fine big crocodile on the banks; but as they are very suspicious beasts, and slide into the water at anyone's approach, we determined to try a long shot. I crawled into the bow of the boat, and while the natives held the boat steady loosed off at about 130 yards. The shot was either a very good one or a very lucky one; for the magar was certainly mortally wounded by it. We rowed rapidly up to the beast to find him lashing about in a couple of feet of water and bleeding profusely. I had almost certainly shot him through the heart.
Unfortunately this is of very little use with these reptiles. We got up as close as the natives could be persuaded to go. There certainly was some risk if we had gone quite close in, but we ought to have ventured near enough to drive a boat-hook into the mud between him and the deep water, but they could not be persuaded to do this, and there was no time for argument. Maiden sat up in the middle of the boat and fired fifteen Mauser cartridges into the struggling crocodile, which I think was a proceeding of doubtful utility. He persuaded me, however, to fire a couple more cartridges myself, which I did, right down the beast's throat. The second shot very nearly led to a catastrophe, as our craft was not at all steady, and the recoil of the heavy express sent me an awful cropper backwards on to the gunwale of the boat. Luckily, no harm came of it. I was now more anxious than ever to get hold of the beast or to pin him with the boat-hook, but though his struggles were gradually ceasing, nothing we could do was any good; little by little he slid off the shallow into the deep water and sank. After hunting about for twenty minutes we gave it up as a bad job.
Rowing slowly up the stream, we soon caught sight of another fine beast, though not quite so big as the one we lost. I took, however, an extraordinarily careful shot at it, and had the good luck to smash the spine. Every-one thought I had missed, but I swore that was impossible. Certainly the beast did not move as we rowed towards it. I sent the natives on to the bank, and after an infinite display of funk, they ventured to catch hold of its tail; of course it had been shot stone dead. We got the body on board and rowed back to tiffin. A further excursion in the afternoon produced nothing; so we gave it up, and after a cup of tea drove back to Delhi with our prize. In the evening Maiden asked me round to his house to meet some people who were interested in what they called the "willing game." (The rules are that you must not set about doing anything, but sit down and wish it were done.) The conversation, however, soon degenerated into a lecture on Buddhism. I got carried away by my subject, and preached the Good Law for four hours on end, and I am afraid bored my hearers immensely.
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