INDIA IMPRESSIONS
[Illustration: THE MANIKARNIKÁ GHÁT BENARES]
INDIA IMPRESSIONS
WITH SOME NOTES OF CEYLON
DURING A WINTER TOUR, 1906–7
BY WALTER CRANE, R.W.S. WITH
A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOUR AND
NUMEROUS OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1907
TO MY WIFE
MY TRAVELLING COMPANION
ON THIS TOUR, AND TO WHOM
THE PROJECT WAS DUE, I
NOW INSCRIBE ITS RECORD
[Illustration]
PREFACE
Although many books descriptive of India and Indian life have recently
appeared, even a short visit to that wonderful country presents so
extraordinary a series of spectacles to the European, especially to one
seeing the East for the first time, that it occurred to me that a few
notes and fresh impressions from an artist’s point of view, accompanied
by sketches made on the spot, as well as illustrations of the lighter
side of travel, might not be without interest to the public.
Even apart from the enormous artistic interest and architectural
splendours of India, which are so rich and abundant that one feels that
hundreds of drawings would be necessary to give any adequate idea of
their beauty, there is the human interest of these vast populations,
among whom so many streams of race, language and religion are found,
not to speak of the problems of government and administration they
present.
I cannot claim to have had any special facilities in seeing the
country—no more at least than might be at the command of an ordinary
English tourist, and have trusted chiefly to what powers of
observation I may possess in describing the various cities visited,
and the districts traversed, and I offer these notes strictly as
personal impressions.
Owing to ever increasing facilities of travel, the East is, in a sense,
drawn nearer to the West, or, rather the West to the East, but nothing
strikes the traveller so much as the apparently vast gulf dividing the
dark-skinned races from the white—a gulf deeper and wider than the
oceans.
I mean the profound differences in ideas, in religion, in sentiment,
in life, habit and custom. Western influence where even it has had any
apparent effect—apart from commercial enterprise—seems to be but a thin
veneer, and it is a constant wonder how the British should have been
able to acquire and maintain their grasp over this vast peninsular, and
to hold the balance between antagonistic races and creeds so long.
But it is not a comfortable thought for an Englishman, loving freedom,
and accustomed to the principles of popular and representative
government at home, to realise that this vast empire is held under the
strictest autocratic system; and that the national aspirations that
are now beginning to make themselves heard and felt should be entirely
ignored, and the voice of native feeling sternly suppressed.
One can only hope that the great British people will take more trouble
to study and understand their great Dependency, and not be prevented
by official explanations from making independent inquiries and
observations for themselves, and finally to “be just and fear not.”
If, however, in any way and from any point of view, these impressions
may serve, in however slight a degree, to increase the interest of my
own countrymen and women in India, I shall be very glad.
WALTER CRANE
KENSINGTON, _July 1907_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE vii
I. THE VOYAGE 1
II. BOMBAY AND THE CAVES OF ELLORA 21
III. AHMEDABAD 48
IV. AHMEDABAD TO AJMIR 62
V. CHITORGARH AND UDAIPUR 74
VI. JAIPUR 96
VII. AGRA 112
VIII. GWALIOR 127
IX. DELHI 144
X. AMRITZAR AND LAHORE 161
XI. LUCKNOW 185
XII. BENARES 200
XIII. CALCUTTA—DARJEELING 218
XIV. MADRAS AND THE SOUTH 239
XV. NOTES OF CEYLON 290
INDEX 319
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT
PAGE
ROUGH SKETCH MAP OF INDIA xvi
LONDON TO PORT SAID, A HIEROGLYPHIC OF OUR VOYAGE 3
COALING AT PORT SAID—AND AFTER! 6
SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS? OR BEING DESPOILED BY THEM! 7
SENSATION IN SOLAR TOPIS 7
THE SUEZ CANAL 9
THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA (THERM: 88° OR SO!) 12
IN THE SAME BOAT—A CONTRAST AT ADEN 14
SOME TYPES AMONG OUR FELLOW PASSENGERS 17
LANDING AT BOMBAY 22
AWAITING THE CUSTOMS—BOMBAY 23
STREET PERFORMERS—BOMBAY 24
INTERVIEW WITH CANDIDATES FOR THE POST OF BEARER—MOSTLY
UNBEARABLE! 31
A BED AT THE DAK BUNGALOW! MUNMAD (KEEP IT DA(R)K) 35
WE ARE INTRODUCED TO THE CAVES OF ELLORA 39
AND ITS WASPS 42
THE FEET OF PILGRIMS (AT MOHAMMEDAN MOSQUES) 50
POOR RELATIONS 52
A FAMILY PARTY—CRANES ON A MANGO TREE (SARBARMATI RIVER) 54
STREET SCENE, AHMEDABAD. ENGLISH TRAVELLERS SKETCHING AND
MAKING PURCHASES 57
THE CAMEL’S CRINOLINE (SUGAR CANE) AJMIR 71
FIRST ELEPHANT RIDE. (CHITORGARH) 78
RAJPUTS AND THEIR RARITIES. (UDAIPUR) 85
HOTEL ACCOMMODATION (JAIPUR), “FOR YOUR EASE AND COMFORT” (OR
RATHER FOR THE EASING OF YOUR RUPEES?) 98
TO AMBER ON AN ELEPHANT 106
SHOPPING IN JAIPUR 109
AGGRAVATING AGRA 115
THE MAINSTAY OF INDIA. AQUARIUS—THE WATER-BEARER 119
TO GWALIOR FORT BY PALANQUIN 129
CALLERS AT THE GUEST HOUSE, GWALIOR 137
A DASH FOR THE DINING-CAR AT AGRA ROAD 146
DELHI DRIVING. WANTED—A RULE OF THE ROAD 159
SHE WON’T BE HAPPY TILL SHE GETS EVERYTHING PACKED UP 162
DEMON HOTEL TOUTS AT AMRITZAR FIGHTING FOR THEIR PREY 163
THROUGH AMRITZAR—SIT TIGHT AND HOLD A SMELLING BOTTLE! 165
AN INDIAN AUTOLYCUS 168
ENJOYING A LOG FIRE AT LAHORE 172
“THE WOMAN IN WHITE” AT LAHORE (SUGGESTION FOR A DISGUISE
PARTY) 175
THE MERCHANTS OF KASHMIR 182
IN HOSPITAL, LUCKNOW. THE OPERATING TABLE (PATIENT HAD A BIT OF
GRIT IN HER EYE AFTER A TRAIN JOURNEY)—SIXTEEN RUPEES WERE
EXTRACTED! 186
JUGGLERS AT LUCKNOW—THE MANGO TREE TRICK 187
BETTER LUCK AT LUCKNOW—THROUGH THE CHOWK ON AN ELEPHANT 195
THE MAHARAJAH PLACES HIS CARRIAGE AT OUR DISPOSAL 202
BENARES: VIEWING THE GHATS FROM THE MAHARAJAH’S PEACOCK BOAT 207
WE SEE SNAKES AT BENARES 209
THE MAHARAJAH’S RECEPTION, DECORATING THE VISITORS 214
THE SOOTHSAYER AT CALCUTTA—(OR PALMISTRY UNDER THE PALMS) 220
THE DARJEELING TOY-RAILWAY TRYING TO CATCH ITS OWN TAIL! 225
CHARACTERS IN A TIBETAN MASQUE, DARJEELING 228
THE SHY PEAK OF KINCHIN JUNGA 233
A RIDE AT DARJEELING: “UP HILL SPARE ME” 234
A HAILSTONE CHORUS—DEPARTURE FROM DARJEELING 236
CALCUTTA TO MADRAS—SECTION OF SLEEPER—OR SOMETHING LIKE IT 240
LADIES OR GENTLEMEN? (FASHIONS IN SOUTHERN INDIA) 243
MADRAS—A JIN-RICKSHAW MADE FOR TWO 250
TANJORE—NATIVE THEATRE—HOUSE FULL. PERFORMANCE FROM 9 P.M. TILL
2 A.M.—BUT WE DIDN’T STOP TO SEE IT THROUGH 265
TRICHINOPOLY—OX TONGA—VITA BREVIS! 271
THE SACRED ELEPHANTS OF SERINGHAM—SECURING TWO-ANNA PIECES 274
THE RIVALS. OUR MOONSAWMY AND THE MADURA GUIDE 277
TUTICORIN. DEPARTURE FOR COLOMBO. THE LAST OF THE KITES AND
CROWS 287
LANDING AT COLOMBO 291
COMMON OBJECTS OF COLOMBO. (JIN-RICKSHAWUS BIPEDES) 293
A CINGALESE WAITER 294
IN CEYLON—EXTREMES MEET—THE MOTOR AND THE OX-CART 296
TEA PLANTATION, CEYLON 303
TEA AND RUBBER IN CEYLON—A RISING INDUSTRY 309
A FEW TRIFLES THE WIFE WISHED TO BRING HOME FROM INDIA 316
LIST OF PLATES
THE MANIKARNIKÁ GHAT, BENARES _Frontispiece_
TO FACE PAGE
THE KYLAS, CAVES OF ELLORA 38
ARRIVAL OF MR DADABHAI NAOROJI AT BOMBAY, DECEMBER 14, 1906 46
TOMB OF GUNJ BAKSH, SARKHEI 58
SHRINE OF THE KWAJA, AJMIR 66
THE MAHARAJAH’S PALACE AT UDAIPUR, FROM THE JAGMANDIR PAVILION 88
THE MAHARAJAH’S STATE ELEPHANT, JAIPUR 102
THE TAJ MAHAL, FROM THE GATEWAY 116
IN THE BAZAAR, GWALIOR 134
APPROACH TO THE PALACE OF MAN MANDIR, GWALIOR 138
THE JAMA MUSJID MOSQUE, DELHI 152
LAHORE—THE MOSQUE OF WAZA KHAN 182
IRRIGATION WELL, LUCKNOW 196
KINCHIN JUNGA FROM DARJEELING 232
TANJORE—THE GREAT GATE OF THE TEMPLE 254
SACRED TANK OF THE GREAT TEMPLE, MADURA 282
UNDER THE PALMS AT THE GALLE FACE, CEYLON 292
[Illustration: ROUGH-SKETCH SKELETON-MAP OF =INDIA= TO SHOW OUR RAILWAY
ROUTE & POSITION OF THE PLACES VISITED]
INDIA IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER I
THE VOYAGE
A visit to India and the East had long been a cherished but somewhat
vague dream with us. It seemed a far cry, and to make a break of a
few months in the midst of the occupations of a busy life is always a
difficult matter. The impossible, however, became in course of time
possible, and even practicable. Inquiries as to ways and means had the
effect of clearing our path; and having the _will_, the _way_ was soon
discovered.
“Only sixteen days to Bombay!” our Indian friends in London told us,
and they were always urging us to go and see their wonderful country
for ourselves. Mr Romesh Dutt and Dr Mulich had been visitors at our
house. The former had presented his interesting translation of the
“Ramayana,” illustrated by Miss Hardy, to my wife. Besides these we had
from time to time made the acquaintance of several native gentlemen in
London who were reading for the Indian Bar. They came and went, but all
were earnest in their hope that we should visit India, and I think that
they had discovered our sympathies were with those of their countrymen
in their aspirations to participate in the administration of the
affairs of their own country.
The decisive step of booking our passage was at last taken in the
summer of 1906, and the 19th day of November following saw us _en
route_ for Marseilles, where we committed ourselves to the care of the
Messageries Maritime, and embarked on the S.S. “La Nera” in due course,
putting to sea on Wednesday, the 21st November.
It was a lovely bright afternoon as we left the port, the southern
sunshine flooding everything in golden light. It is a wonderful moment
when the ship casts off. The great liner, which had seemed a part of
the land itself while the stream of passengers passed up the gangways,
and their baggage after them, begins to throb with life and movement—to
tremble, as it were, with expectation of departure. As a swimmer about
to take the water casts off all impedimenta, so the ship casts off her
cables and all that links her to the shore, and glides off into the
great blue deep, breasting the waves of the vast open sea. Incredibly
fast as the engines beat the solid land fades away. The domes and
towers and chimneys silhouetted against the bright sky, the people on
the quays, the ships riding at anchor, the tossing harbour buoys, the
small sailing craft flitting about, all are rolled by as on the canvas
of a moving diorama, as the steamer clears the port, and all detail
becomes merged and lost under the bold main outlines of the rocky
coast, or the dim shapes of the distant mountains.
As the long shining wake increases astern and the coast recedes, those
nautical camp-followers the gulls, which have pursued the ship from the
harbour, begin to diminish their numbers, though they wing a long way
out to sea, attracted by the crumbs which occasionally fall from the
region of the cook’s galley.
[Illustration: LONDON TO PORT SAID, A HIEROGLYPHIC OF OUR VOYAGE]
A glorious sunset inaugurated our first night at sea—of the order of
the Golden Fleece, as it might be called—a distinct type, when in a
windless sky a large field of delicate fleecy cirrus cloud spreads
in a level field from west to east, and as the sun sinks its under
edges are lighted up by golden light, changing to orange, scarlet, and
crimson, when he disappears beneath the horizon. So our voyage began
propitiously, and with a smooth sea. Early the next morning we passed
through the Straits of Bonifazio, between Corsica and Sardinia, the
coasts of which we had a glimpse of through our port-hole, and on the
morning of the third day, after a little tossing, we sighted Sicily,
passing Scylla and Charybdis at the entrance of the straits, and close
to Messina. Etna soon came into view, its summit covered with a crown
of snow (as we had seen it on our visit to Taormina in 1904).
The Calabrian coast, too, was very interesting, the mountains
of striking form, and the lines very varied all along to Cape
Spartivento—the toe of the boot-shaped continent of Italy. We could see
the little white towns along the coast and among the hills, and the
monasteries perched high upon crags. Etna gradually faded away, like a
vision, beyond the dark blue edge of the sea, and almost immediately
after passing the cape we encountered a strong easterly wind from the
Adriatic, which met the Mediterranean here.
At sunset there were huge banks of grey clouds of fantastic shapes
rising like high wooded islands, but we had moonlight on the waters
every night.
Those grey banks of cloud, however, were ominous, and by November
the 24th the weather grew so rough that the “fiddle-strings” became
necessary on the tables in the dining-saloon, where the attendance,
too, grew distinctly thinner. Towards evening we sighted the cliffs of
Crete (Candia), the fissured, mountainous, and dangerous-looking coast
plainly visible in the sunlight, though a bank of cloud covered the
summits of the island.
After much tossing and rolling through another day and night the lights
of Port Said were sighted about four o’clock on the morning of November
26. There was a powerful search-light from the lighthouse. We got into
harbour about 5.30, and the coaling began. It was a weird scene. Six
black lighters were hauled alongside our steamer, three on the port bow
and three on the starboard, and boats crowded to the water’s edge with
coolies in long ragged garments and turbans, mostly of a dusky red and
blue, the colours shining through the coal dust which darkened their
naturally swarthy visages and forms. As these crowded boats approached
with their weird passengers, one had an irresistible suggestion of
Charon ferrying lost souls across the Styx—there was generally only
one pair of oars, as the distance to the steamer from the wharf was
very short. Well, these were our coal-slaves, upon whose cheap labour
the speed of our steamers depends quite as much as on their own
engines, one felt. From the boats they scrambled into the lighters—some
shovelled up the coal into hand baskets of matting which others lifted
on to their shoulders and carried across a narrow plank into the ship,
forming a weird line of black figures silhouetted against the shining
water. The coolies worked hard and fast in a black mist of coal dust
and kept up a continual hubbub of cries in Arabic and other strange
tongues which added to the weirdness of the scene.
[Illustration: COALING AT PORT SAID—AND AFTER!]
Port Said looked very new and flimsy, and was hopelessly vulgarised by
flaming posters and advertisements of Western origin both in French and
English. Boats swarmed round the ship’s side, and swarthy eager-eyed
hotel touts came aboard in Fez caps, as well as a motley crowd of
traders, Egyptian conjurers, and European musicians who played the
latest popular waltzes. We were glad to escape the coal dust and go
ashore, where an intelligent but probably not too scrupulous Egyptian
guide undertook to show us everything, and we went with him round the
town, passing through the market crowded with the picturesque life of
the East, which indeed showed itself everywhere through the thin veneer
of modern European commercialism. A venerable-looking prophet swept the
streets, and, of course, there were plenty of street arabs ready to
turn “cart-wheels” or anything that would turn a more or less honest
penny in their direction, and the cry of “Backsheesh” was raised on
the slightest provocation. Our guide took us into a small Mohammedan
mosque, modern, but, of course, strictly according to the traditional
plan and oriented towards Mecca. We had to put on loose canvas shoes
over our own shoes to enter the sacred precincts, and our guide gave
us a long exposition of the necessary ablutions to be performed by the
faithful before and after prayers, and showed us the water tank fitted
with taps, at one of which a devotee was busy having his wash.
[Illustration: SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS? OR BEING DESPOILED BY THEM!]
[Illustration: SENSATION IN SOLAR TOPIS]
The bazaar bristled with European goods, and topis and cigarettes were
much in evidence, though there were some charming Egyptian fabrics in
the form of scarves brocaded with patterns in gold or silver thread or
black on white fine linen.
On the whitewashed walls of some of the houses I noticed some primitive
paintings in distemper, apparently representing camels, travellers, and
palm-trees, done in profile. They were carried horizontally across the
front of the houses as a sort of frieze, and were curiously suggestive
in a childlike way of a survival of the ancient Egyptian method of
decorating. Our guide said that they indicated that the dweller in the
house had visited Mecca. Returning to “La Nera” we found her indeed
blacker than she was painted, as everything on board was covered with
a fine coal dust, which the energy of the crew with copious hose-pipes
eventually got rid of. The harbour of Port Said is always busy,
many liners and transports coming and going, war vessels of various
nationalities lying at anchor, boats plying to and fro, and young,
lithe, brown-skinned natives on the quays, ready to dive for silver
pieces, crouching shivering on the edge of the wharf, or in a boat, and
crying in an almost continuous monotone, “à la mer,” “à la mer,” “à la
mer,” until the hoped-for small coin is thrown into the water, when
they adroitly dive and intercept it as it falls turning and glittering
in the water, and reappear with it in their mouths, which soon open for
more.
[Illustration: THE SUEZ CANAL]
We started again at 12.30 for Suez, entering the canal. Our steamer was
stopped at the first village to allow two steamers to pass—the “Clan
Campbell” of Glasgow and the “Herefordshire” of Liverpool.
The weather was quite cool and cloudy and it turned out a showery
afternoon. Flocks of pelicans were seen on the waters of the wide
shallow lakes we passed. There was a stormy sunset, and there was
lightning after nightfall, but later the moon shone brightly, falling
on the wan sand of the banks, which had quite the effect of snow under
its clear cold light.
The steamer moved slowly through the canal at about the rate of five
knots. A passenger was landed at Ismailia, after which we entered
the bitter lakes, and next morning we were within fifteen miles from
Suez, but our steamer had to stop owing to a transport ship having got
aground ahead of us. A German steamer was close behind us, and while
waiting many of the passengers landed and roamed about on the desert
sand. It was not long, however, before the transport was got off, and
she presently passed us, a huge white steamer named the “Rena,” crowded
with English “Tommies” homeward bound.
The passage of the Suez Canal is very interesting and comes as a
welcome relief after tossing on the open sea out of sight of land. The
long level lines of the sandy desert have a reposeful effect, but fine
ranges of mountains are often seen beyond, and the desert is frequently
varied with the
“strip of herbage strown”
embroidered with palm-trees, and these elements of Egyptian landscape
steeped in the translucent atmosphere are relieved by striking
bronze-coloured figures in blue robes and swarthy Arabs in white in the
foreground on the sand-banks, or an occasional string of camels.
We reached Suez about midday and anchored off the town. The Consul’s
tug paid us a visit, and our vessel was soon surrounded by a small
fleet of picturesque craft with lateen sails, and gunwales painted
with eyes, and in the semblance of quaint fish in bands of green and
white, manned by swarthy Arabs and Egyptians. These brought cargo and
provisions to be hoisted on board, and the process took an hour or two,
but in the afternoon we steamed away again and entered the Red Sea.
The weather grew perceptibly warmer, but was still not oppressive,
and there was a cool breeze in the evening. There was a beautiful
roseate light at afterglow on the eastern shore, where Mount Sinai was
pointed out, and the well of Moses, and the traditional place of the
Israelites’ passage of the Red Sea. The sun set in gold and purple
behind a bold range of craggy mountains on our starboard side, and a
splendid moonlight night succeeded, the moon nearly at full.
On the morning of the 28th November we passed “The Brothers” lightships
to starboard, and the next day we were out of sight of land, with a
pleasant breeze under the double awnings of the upper deck, enjoying
the best summer weather, which we should think ourselves lucky to have
in England. The Red Sea was really as blue as the Mediterranean, though
of course subject to changes according to the sky, which turned to a
wonderful clear greenish gold after sunset, powdered with small dark
clouds which floated across it; a violet flush above the gold blending
it into the deep blue of the upper sky, the small floating clouds
against it showing ashy grey, while against the gold of the afterglow
they looked nearly black, the sea being of a rather cold metallic blue.
The serene weather and the splendour of the moonlit nights continued,
but the temperature rose considerably, reaching 88° Fahr. in our cabin,
which was on the starboard side of the ship. It is as well to remember
that port side cabins are cooler for the outward voyage, and those on
the starboard side for the homeward voyage, as going eastwards the heat
of the sun falls on the starboard side necessarily for the greater part
of the day, while going westwards of course the reverse is the case.
This applies more particularly to the Red Sea.
[Illustration: THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA
(Therm: 88° or so!)]
On November 30th we passed the island of Jubbelteer, on which was
a lighthouse, and later, “The Twelve Apostles,” a series of rocky
volcanic-looking islands of bold and angular outline, and apparently
barren. Sea-birds, however, were seen with black and white bodies and
brown wings flying close to the water.
On December the 1st we passed Mocha, of coffee celebrity, and the
island of Perrim, where there are lighthouses and signal stations,
but, like the other islands we had seen, otherwise desolate in the
extreme. Later the Arabian coast came into view and the sea was dotted
with the sails of Arab dhows. The coast as we approached Aden showed
volcanic-looking mountains, striking in form and bold in outline, with
stretches of sand and rock between. Aden was reached about 2 P.M., a
school of dolphins playing about the ship as if to welcome our arrival.
Aden looked a queer uninviting place, baked dry by the sun—a cluster
of temporary and barrack-like buildings huddled together anyhow along
the rocky coast, with never a tree to be seen; the ragged, precipitous,
barren edges of extinct volcanoes forming a background to the
red-roofed barracks and bungalows.
Several large white warships lay at anchor in the harbour, and lent a
touch of gay colour by being decked with strings of bunting from stem
to stern in honour of our Queen Alexandra’s birthday. A German liner
got in just before us and we saw the coal lighters being rowed up to
her. “La Nera” coaled here also, but it was a less grimy proceeding
than at Port Said, as the coal was in sacks. The type of coolies, too,
was very different, and there were many African negroes (Soumalis)
among them, whose skins could hardly be made blacker than they were by
nature. In addition to its cluster of coaling lighters, our vessel, now
at anchor, was soon surrounded by boats filled with natives who swarmed
round the gangways, and soon invaded the ship—a crowd of Soumali
traders offering ostrich feathers and feather fans (of a European
look), ostrich eggs, wicker bottle-shaped baskets, shell necklaces,
and amber beads, who drove their trade amongst the passengers on deck,
whilst others endeavoured to catch their eyes from the boats. Thin,
lithe young natives with fuzzy hair were very numerous, and some had
dyed their hair red, which had a grotesque effect with the black skin.
I noted a strange contrast in the same boat, too, which contained two
natives, one of whom wore a sort of large-checked suit of pyjamas with
his mop of red-dyed hair, while his companion had his head clean shaved
with “nodings on”! Some natives seemed to have used face powder—at any
rate had smeared some kind of whitening over their countenances with
ghastly effect.
[Illustration: IN THE SAME BOAT—A CONTRAST AT ADEN]
The scene was a strange one altogether. The crowd of Europeans on deck,
in which nearly every nationality was represented, mostly clad in topis
and white garments, the black traders moving about them; the swarm of
boats at the sides of the vessel full of bright spots of colour—scarlet
turbans, white, orange, yellow, and purple in the costumes—swaying on
the turquoise-coloured sea; brown-backed gulls flapping over the water
and kites hovering over the harbour; and all steeped in the bright
sunshine of the East. Many of the passengers went ashore in the native
boats, but the scene seemed more amusing from the ship and we remained
on deck.
Aden itself looked more interesting at night, with bright lights here
and there on the shore and on the ships, and the rising moon translated
everything into terms of mystery and romance.
I watched an Arab dhow set sail. It is one of the most beautiful of
sailing vessels, and has a high old-fashioned poop—the line of the
gunwale making a fine curve from stem to stern—a mainmast with a big
lateen sail, two jibs on a short bowsprit, and a secondary smaller mast
astern. The sun set behind the Arabian coast, the jagged peaks of which
we had previously passed. The coaling did not finish till nightfall.
The coolies seemed to undertake all the mechanical arrangements for the
work, fixing the hauling gear and the necessary ropes and planks, and
often in the process seeming to hang on to the ship with little more
than their eyelids. When they pulled a rope together the cry to keep
time sounded like “Leesah!” or “Leeshah!” with emphasis on the first
syllable.
The coaling finished, and the curious swarm of native life that had
surrounded us departed, “La Nera” weighed anchor and pursued her course
eastwards, skirting the rocky coast bathed in the moonlight as she made
for the open Arabian Sea.
The next day in the early morning we had sight of some flying-fish.
They have almost the appearance of swallows at a distance, especially
when seen against the light, but, glancing, as they leap out of the
water, to disappear into it again very quickly, they flash in the sun
like silver.
The Arabian coast was still faintly visible towards the north, but
gradually faded from view. The pleasant light breeze continued and it
was not nearly so hot as in the Red Sea, in fact quite pleasant either
on deck or below—especially with a “windle” fixed to the cabin port.
We had made an interesting acquaintance on board, a French gentleman
who knew India well and who was on his way to revisit that country,
intending to join an English friend there on a shooting expedition.
He was an old sportsman and had shot big game in Tibet. He united
the keenness and experience of a sportsman with literary tastes
and a love of history and archæology. This gentleman introduced
us to “the green ray,” a phenomenon peculiar to the Eastern seas,
I believe. Just at the moment when the sun disappears beneath the
horizon there is the appearance of a vivid green spark flashing like
a gem which seems to detach itself from the glowing orb and fly
upward, instantly disappearing in the reddening haze. We witnessed
this on several occasions, but in order to see it a clear sunset is
absolutely necessary—that is to say that one must be able to see
the sun sink below the horizon clear of cloud. The lovely moonlight
nights continued, the moon being now ahead, and the apparent goal
of the vessel’s course. One night, however, was disturbed by the
steamer stopping in mid-ocean. One gets so accustomed to the throb
of the engines on board a steamer that its sudden cessation is quite
startling. Passengers clustered near the engine-room to learn the
cause, which turned out to be something wrong with “a washer” which
affected the movement of the shaft. After about three hours this was
repaired and the “Nera” continued her course. She generally made about
300 miles in the twenty-four hours.
Incidents in the Indian Ocean were few and far between. Flying-fish
were to be seen, but only in the early morning as a rule; a whale
was noticed spouting, and two sharks were sighted. I saw, too, a
large turtle turn over close to the ship’s side, but such sights very
occasionally varied the wide seascape, and many were glad to turn to
deck games or bridge for diversion, if they could not find it in books,
or in observing their fellow passengers.
[Illustration: SOME TYPES AMONG OUR FELLOW PASSENGERS]
Certainly amongst these latter there was no want of interest or
variety; they were quite an international group, and included English
and Anglo-Indians returning after leave of absence in Europe to take
up their official duties, civil or military, on new appointments
with their wives and families; a large proportion of French (it
being a French steamer); then there were Portuguese and Dutch (going
out to Australia), Germans and Canadians, Armenians from Rangoon,
and Indians from Bombay; several Armenian priests also, probably
missionaries; there were negroes and Arabs in the fo’castle, and
among the second-class passengers a characteristic group of English
workmen—foremen engineers and navvies. They were bound for Bombay,
having been engaged to direct coolie labour on new and extensive docks
at that port, their contract being for three years, and their passage
paid. I think they got very tired of doing nothing and did not feel
quite happy with the French dinners, although the heaviest man of the
party made it a rule to devour everything that was set before him,
taking Saint Paul’s advice, and “asking no questions.” I think all the
ages of man—and woman—were represented on board, including more than
one infant “mewling and puling in its nurse’s arms.” A little sample of
the big world chipped off and sent adrift on the ocean—a ship of life,
not without its enigmas, its little ironies and uncertainties, tossed
upon the very type of uncertainty—the sea.
A ship, however, is a castle of indolence as far as the passengers are
concerned, though the crew, I suspect, would tell a very different
story, as, apart from the severe work of the engineers and stokers,
their work never seems at an end, and it is only by constant washing,
scrubbing, and sweeping that a steamer can be kept decently clean and
habitable.
To break the monotony of the five days’ voyage on the Indian Ocean
a concert was got up by an energetic young lady and her friends.
They went round the ship to discover what hidden musical or
histrionic talent might be concealed under the more or less disguised
personalities of the passengers, and they succeeded in drawing out
enough for an evening’s entertainment on the saloon deck, which was
picturesquely draped with bunting for the occasion, and a piano was
wheeled into position. Various songs were given, and a French princess,
who was among the passengers, recited. The young lady who had been the
leading spirit in organising the concert herself gave some charming
songs which she accompanied on a guitar, and a pretty song in Japanese
costume and umbrella from “The Geisha,” I think, with much spirit.
The proceeds went to the benefit of the orphans of the Messageries
Maritimes sailors.
After this violent excitement the days passed as days do at sea, the
fine weather continuing with delightful monotony. The fresh easterly
breeze was strong enough to fleck the blue plain with “white horses,”
yet not cause any trying movement of the vessel, which ploughed
steadily through the waves, driving the spray from its bows, and
causing dancing rainbows on the foamy crests as they rebounded from the
ship’s side. The sun rising in clear glory from the sea, disappeared
each evening in tranquil splendour, showing the green ray, and the
deep red along the horizon in the west afterwards, over the dark blue
sea. The dark blue above and the illuminated sky between, recalled the
favourite effect in Japanese prints by Hiroshigi, and at the same time
testified to its truth.
But all things have an end, even ocean voyages, and about four o’clock
on the morning of Friday, December the 7th, our steamer slowed down and
took on board the pilot, and we, cautiously steering past mysterious
islands under the dawn, finally cast anchor in Bombay harbour.