“LEAVE OF ABSENCE.”
“There is a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will.”
The selection of the route narrowed itself to that of “Hobson’s
choice”; for the embers of the Mutiny were still smouldering in
various quarters, where the roads were consequently unsafe. I was
therefore compelled to reach the sea by river, and was the more ready
to adopt this course as an old friend and his wife were going as far as
Moulmein.
My antipathy to the country was by this time as deep-rooted as the
lilac crocus in autumn, and has never since relaxed its hold. I felt I
must leave it at any cost, while the thought of ever returning weighed
upon me like a day- and night-mare.
The India of the past was irretrievably blotted out by the Mutiny;
henceforth no dependence could be placed on anything; there was no safe
anchorage, all was adrift.
The pack was always being shuffled; pay, rank, nomenclature, uniform
and precedence were distributed _seriatim_, each deal being declared a
false one.
Of that huge pudding, made up of England’s possessions, our Indian
Empire certainly contains some of the plums; and young men are
naturally not backward at competing for them. What is to be the end
of all this feverish competition I do not care to think, for these are
congested days, and, for want of a comprehensive scheme of emigration,
we at home are striving to make a pint hold a quart.
With extended emigration, smaller holdings at home, and a tariff more
equitable to our own producers and less so to foreigners, something
might possibly be done to allay the sufferings of mankind.
It was refreshing to hear the sound of the paddle-wheels, and to find
ourselves moving rapidly with the Gangetic stream, which was, as usual,
flowing swiftly past before the end of the monsoon. We needed this
help, for there were several hundred miles between us and the sea,
which we could traverse only by day.
Pleasant as was the sensation of leaving the country, we were not
a merry party by any means; some were leaving behind those who had
been very dear to them, while others were hard and fast in the dread
clutches of disease; and the prospects of nearly all were utterly
ruined.
Lower down, we had to run the gauntlet of a stronghold still in the
hands of the rebels, who might fire into us; and the consequences of
a round shot striking the ship might be undeniably unpleasant. But
we steamed past “danger point” at a great pace, without a sign of
molestation, never dreaming in our fancied security that a far greater
danger was lurking near us, in the shape of a plot to destroy the
vessel, fostered by treason on board, which was only frustrated by the
captain’s promptness.
The next day brought us alongside the jetty of what I remembered as
one of our liveliest stations; in the old days it contained a European
regiment and several native ones. I took the opportunity of going
ashore; turning to the right along the main road, I approached the
European quarters on the one side and the bungalows on the other;
but all was forlorn and forsaken, a sad contrast to the gay scene of
eighteen months ago.
The scene was depressing in the extreme, and carried my thoughts back
to the many old friends who had recently gone to their account. I was
only too glad to get on board again; and my thoughts, as I sat there on
deck, were not of a rosy hue.
The events of the past two years seemed as a dream; perpetually on
the move by land and water, exposed to all manner of dangers; once
a prisoner, deprived alike of luxuries and necessaries—all this was
enough to make one recoil. But the rope which bound me to the country
was a strong one, and the only way I could see of cutting it would have
been a leap from the frying-pan into the fire.
Moreover, I was infinitely poorer than when I first came to the
country. With the exception of a scanty wardrobe, everything I
possessed—house, furniture, books, plate—had been ruthlessly swept
away in the Mutiny; and there were souvenirs of the past which no money
could replace.
Nothing of moment occurred till we were nearing the end of our journey;
when the aforementioned plot to run the vessel ashore at a very
dangerous spot came to the knowledge of the captain, who immediately
took the helm himself, after the steersman proper had been duly placed
in irons. He afterwards confessed, and was handed over to the civil
authorities.
If anything was wanting to complete the prevalent gloom, it was
furnished by the death of a passenger shortly before reaching Calcutta.
In the very early hours of the next morning, my friend and myself saw
him consigned to that capacious repository, mother earth.
When the rising sun had dispersed the heavy pall of vapours, the
City of Palaces was bad enough in those days; but words would fail to
describe the sickening effluvia that prevailed in the early morning.
Years after, I recognized the same at Naples!
On this occasion—I believe I have already mentioned the episode—I got
a double dose of it, for I mistook the hour, and consequently arrived
much too soon.
The _rendezvous_ was in the immediate vicinity of that filthy river,
the Hooghly, on whose turbid bosom floated various carcases in every
stage of decomposition; crows perched on the putrid remains of defunct
Hindoos, digging their beaks into the more tender corners; while some
of the bodies became entangled in ships’ cables, and not a few were
washed ashore on to the black ooze that covered the banks. But for
the intervention of tobacco, I should have been poisoned. Courtesy
has compelled me to give Calcutta its popular title; but the “City of
Sepulchres” would have been far more appropriate.
The somewhat ambitious plan which I now had in view was to visit the
various places of interest on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal as
low as Singapore; then to cross to Ceylon, and thence to Madras and
the far-famed Neilgherry Hills, and, lastly, back to—purgatory! Man
can, however, but propose; and I was doomed to accomplish not more than
one-third of the distance. The ebb had evidently set against me, and
seemed inclined to have a long innings. It is hard work pulling against
it year after year; the eternal fitness of things seems deranged; and
but for the hope which “springs eternal,” how many more would give up
the struggle!
But even here the wind was somewhat tempered to the fleeced human
animal, for I started in ignorance, and a measure of compensation was
vouchsafed me, as much, I suppose, as I deserved.
Well-remembered places hove in sight as we steamed down the river
at a rapid pace and once more imbibed a draught of sea-air. The bay,
although quieting down after the storms of the monsoon, was still much
too lively for indifferent sailors, few of whom put in any appearance
on deck, and fewer still at the festive cuddy.
The first port we touched at was Akyab, celebrated for its capacious
harbour and extensive rice-fields. Backed as it is by hills of
considerable altitude, which were clothed at this season in their
richest verdure, the approach to the port was exceedingly picturesque,
and the effects of the alternating lights were particularly beautiful
as the clouds passed across the sun, and a hill enveloped in the
gloomiest shade would of a sudden burst into a splendour of emerald
green. Further down, the hills abutted on the sea, which broke against
them with great force, displaying thereby a line of foam of terrible
import to any vessel that should be unfortunate enough to get stranded
there.
The harbour, which would contain several European fleets combined, is
approached by a deep, yet narrow entrance between two perpendicular
rocks, necessitating cautious steering by steam, and still more careful
handling of a vessel under canvas. This passed, it suddenly expands
into a sort of lake; on a very small scale, Lulworth Cove on the Dorset
coast, between Bournemouth and Weymouth, somewhat reminds me of it.
The bungalows, each surrounded by its garden, were arranged from the
rock along the shore, and the plantations were at the zenith of their
beauty. There were but few vessels riding in the harbour, which would,
however, ere long, be crowded by the vessels that convey thousands of
tons of rice to all parts of the world.
Some of the residents showed us over the place as far as that part of
the promontory known as “Scandal Point,” from its being the spot most
in favour with the residents, who would assemble there of an evening to
enjoy the breeze and a cigar, and gossip about things in general. They
seemed for the most part bright and cheerful; and in spite of their
isolation, their existence amid such surroundings, with good shooting
in the neighbourhood and good fishing in the harbour, must have been
tolerable.
Passing Kyouk-Phyao and several other places, we came to a small island
not far from the mainland, inside which our adventurous captain had a
mind to take the vessel. Although this was not the orthodox course, and
attended, moreover, by considerable risk, we had unlimited faith in our
navigator, and were consequently pleased with the idea.
The venture proved more arduous than he had anticipated, necessitating
the utmost caution and constant heaving of the lead. The water was so
clear that I could in many places see the rocks and seaweed, among
which great fish were darting in the utmost consternation at the
appearance of such a leviathan.
In consequence of the many inevitable turns and twists, our progress
was of the slowest. In some places we were almost close enough to have
leapt ashore, if so minded; and to any one watching from the bows,
and forgetting the pranks played by refraction, it seemed as if we
must strike the rocks every moment. The island, which presented but
a tangled mass of vegetation, the abode of birds above and reptiles
below, was undeniably pretty; not sufficiently so, however, to risk
a steamer, and we were not sorry when we once more emerged into deep
water.
The idea of thus going out of our way and courting danger emanated
from the captain, a man of great determination and courage, who,
being fearless at sea himself, never bestowed much consideration in
this respect upon the “landlubbers” entrusted to his care, though his
kindness and attention in everything else were unequalled.
This reliance on his own judgment was unbounded, too much so indeed to
the shipowners’ way of thinking; and for the many years during which
he commanded certain sailing-vessels in which speed was essential, he
maintained the reputation of being the most “carrying on” man in the
service; but the cost of wear and tear of spars and other paraphernalia
must have been enormous.
Some time after leaving the island we steamed up the Irrawaddy, and
I again beheld the town of Rangoon, which, since the time when I had
landed there fresh from England six years previously, had grown beyond
all recognition. An embankment had sprung up along the face of the
river, behind which were substantial buildings of all kinds—residences,
banks, warehouses, every sign, in short, of brisk trade and increasing
prosperity.
I at once went ashore, anxious to see if anything remained of the old
stockade and the old quarters; alas! a severe epidemic of cholera was
at its height, and we were not permitted to penetrate further than the
frontage of the river.
I had, however, the unexpected pleasure of shaking hands with the
Commissioner, and should have dined with him, but for the fear of
carrying infection on board. He was but little altered; the same
winning smile and the same drawn pale face as of yore.
Sitting on deck that evening and listening to the ripple of the water
as it flowed by us, I could not help wondering how it would have fared
with me, but for that fever, which drove me from the country. I should
without a doubt have possessed a long array of figures denoting rupees
at my banker’s, whereas I could now muster but my pay; I should also
have been spared the losses and miseries of the mutiny, and separation
from a wife, but two months after marriage, on whose account I had
to borrow money, that I might keep her comfortably at home until the
country had settled down again. In all probability I should even now
have been busy in the very place I was now gazing on in the pale light
of a fitful moon, and should at any rate have been in a position to
retire many years before I actually did, from a land in which I could
no longer take the slightest interest. The light had become feeble in
the extreme; and a mocking fate has ever laughed at my frantic efforts
to make it flare up again. One by one, I am laying my darlings in the
cold earth; had I remained, a mound of earth would have sufficed to
cover my own remains; and, as far as this life is concerned, that might
have been for the best!
The event of that dire scourge augured unfavourably for the sanitary
arrangements of the place, or for the result of interfering with a
virgin soil hitherto covered with vegetation. During my two years of
knocking about in the country, I had to deal with plenty of fever and
dysentery, but not a single case of cholera ever came under my notice,
either in natives—Burmese, Madrassees, Punjaubees, or any other -ees—or
among the Europeans. The Burmese left sanitation to nature; but then
they were unquestionably stronger than any other race that ever came
within my experience; enjoying singular freedom from deformities,
blemishes and malignant growths, and more than the average immunity
from contagious diseases, at all events until the conquerors mixed with
them.
Not very long ago, we had to grapple with these hydra-headed
monsters; but before we could do more than scotch the snake, the Act
was repealed. The medical profession stood aghast at such puerile
sentimentality being allowed to guide our legislation, in which we are
ever apt to “strain at gnats and swallow camels.”
But they raised their voices in vain; and the dire results attending
such a course are even yet undescribable.
Except for the landing of a few passengers, a fairly strict quarantine
was maintained, and we steamed away early the following morning, bound
for Moulmein, an important station some way up the Salween, almost due
east of Rangoon, and across the Gulf of Martaban.
I had calculated on transferring myself at this point to another
steamer trading to Penang and Singapore; and was therefore glad that we
arrived a few days before her date of departure, as I should thereby be
enabled to see something of the place in the interval. In due course
we reached the mouth of the river, indicated by a lighthouse perched
on a rock to starboard. From some peculiar conformation of the land,
its waters are navigable for vessels of large burden at any season of
the year, while its mouth is free from anything in the shape of a bar.
Though deep, it is very narrow; and its water was wonderfully clear for
that of a tropical river at the close of the monsoon, when thousands of
tons of earth are generally being carried to the sea.
I mused over the likeliest reason for this exception, and was not long
in thinking of the teak forests, with which the country is covered.
The rainfall averages rather more than 120 inches in these latitudes,
and even this sheet of water cannot wash down the soil in any
appreciable quantity, for the leaves break its fall, and the earth is
bound together by countless roots.
When we were about halfway between the mouth of the Salween and
Moulmein, we made out the smoke of a steamer coming down at a
considerable pace. The captain, having scanned the approaching craft
with his glass, coolly informed me that it was the boat by which I
intended to reach Singapore. I rushed below to gather up my traps; and
by the time I was once more on deck, we were abreast of the new comer;
an active interchange of signals was going on, and the boat in which
I was to be conveyed was about to be lowered. Then ensued an ominous
silence, on which the captain came to me with the pleasing information
that she was bound for Calcutta “for repairs”! A tale is told of a
criminal being led to execution and meeting an unattractive female on
the way to the gallows. He is offered life and liberty, on condition
that he marries her at once; but one look at her face is enough, and
the wretched man, covering his face with his hands, implores his gaoler
to “drive on!” and get the worst over.
No; I had safely turned my back on Calcutta, and I was not minded to
return there just yet. Still, it was a blow from which I recoiled; and,
thanking the captain for his trouble, I retired to chew the cud of this
last stroke of ill-luck.
Stranded, I told myself, and not one-fourth of the intended trip
accomplished! The relentless ebb tide was evidently running dead
against me, implacable at any price.
Thanks to the elasticity of my nature, I did not long remain in low
spirits; what had happened was beyond my control, but as brooding would
not mend matters one iota, I resolved to make the best I could of this
unexpected _contretemps_. No doubt I entered the “Cave of Despair,”
sat down there and discharged a large quantity of pent-up steam; but
I blew it off quickly, and not, as some prefer, in tiny intermittent
jets. There are in fact periods in the lives of most of us, when the
use of a safety valve becomes absolutely necessary; and I soon cooled
down to the resolution, that my only course would be to start afresh
and try the Western coast, since the Eastern had proved so treacherous
and unreliable. The vessel would remain a week or ten days, sufficient,
if properly utilized, for hunting down all the “lions” of the place.
My one difficulty, which had reference to a shakedown, was soon solved
by my friend, who promised to get me an invitation, at all events until
I could find suitable quarters.
And now I came out of the cave altogether. He was as good as his word,
and I soon received an invitation, which was—need I add?—accepted.
Englishmen, who never visited the India of yore, are unacquainted with
the true meaning of the word “hospitality.” The very fact of being able
to entertain a traveller with the best the house could produce, seemed
to afford positive, undisguised pleasure. There was a heartiness about
it unknown at home, where, what with the coldness of our climate and
the still greater frigidity of our natures, the practice is not to
accept hospitality unless in a position to return it.
Around the fascinating custom in the East, that blessed alike the
giver and the recipient, there still lingers a halo of light in my
recollection, standing out in bold relief from the wreck which was soon
to follow.
The rapid spread of railroads, main trunks and ramifications, naturally
lessened the opportunities for exercising such kindly sympathy, for the
increase of hotels and refreshment rooms was simultaneous.
I once occupied a bungalow close to the main road, and travellers
pulled up at it as a matter of course, as readily indeed as if there
had been a signboard over the door. The sheep and poultry, too, may
have lent the scene the additional charm of domesticity; for, besides
having charge of the Gynee (small oxen) Clubs, I had pigs, fowls, ducks
and geese of my own, and cultivated moreover every foot of land around
my house.
After a short row, followed by a still shorter drive, I found myself
installed in a very comfortable house; and as my advent was unexpected,
I had to be shunted to a corner, a very comfortable one, however,
on which my hostess had evidently expended an amount of taste and
ingenuity. Two things only interfered with my night’s rest; the one
consisting in a large and repulsive lizard crawling round my pillow.
It was quite harmless, no doubt, but it was the extraordinary size
of the creature—it resembled a young alligator—that attracted my
attention, and made me hope that it too would go to rest as soon as the
light was out.
The other drawback to sleep was the absence of the thud of the steamer;
and the perfect stillness reigning around positively kept me awake—such
creatures are we of habit.