Comments by "William Cox" (@WildBillCox13) on "Lancaster Howdah Pistols" video.

  1. Wow!  A .577cal cartridge Pistol!  A very cool post; a trio of multibarrel tiger killing Howdah Pistols. What do you think of the reliability of Lancaster's all internal rotating pin mechanism versus the usual, external, revolving drum mechanism?  Was the Lancaster system better for degraded environment usage? And an historical note: Called "Howdah" Pistols for a very good reason, these weapons were carried by Elephant Howdah borne British nobles and high placed colonial government officials for personal protection against tigers, while traveling on official business. Oh yes, a few were used for defense against highly motivated separatists, revolutionaries, bandits, and noble born Indian citizens rightfully disgruntled over "White Rajahs" automatically treating them as second class citizens, or, worse, property.
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  2. As exotic as it gets . . . . . . sweating in a howdah, swaying like a whip to either side, speckled and blinded by the merciless sun struggling hard to melt away the canopy of foliage . . . the brush rustles, rattles, your hand reaches automatically for your oversize howdah pistol, still in its boot. You fumble with it, screaming inside, pull the hammers! Pull the hammers! By now your mahout has become aware of the assault. He turns to see what's hit the elephant's back, but the rear wall of the howdah and your unsteady frame, together, leave him mystified. You try to shout: "tiger!", but all that emerges from your constricted throat is a wheezing squeak. Small matter, when the beast is about to swipe your head off with a paw big as a rug beater. You pull the left; the hammer falls . . . . a year crawls past on the back of a snail . . . misfire! The tiger smiles, so starved it will even eat man meat. The second hammer springs to its mark-it fires! Shoved back by a mighty demon of recoil and impact combined, you literally roll right through the flimsy structure of the howdah, tangled in a tiger. The elephant screams, rears, begins to shake off the broken building from its back. Faced with a choice that's no choice at all, the mahout soothes his agitated friend, stroking with his hand, not prodding with the Aṅkuśa. "Calm, calm, pretty one," he says, comforting her. "All is well. The White Sahib paid in advance."
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