MERGUI.
“It gives me wonder, great as my content,
To see you here before me.”
“Whether we shall meet again, I know not,
Therefore our everlasting farewell take!”
The anchorage off Mergui is guarded by an almost perpendicular rock,
which in our case necessitated steering a point to starboard. Although
destitute of even a blade of grass, this rock is extremely valuable on
account of a certain species of swallow, thousands of which nest there
year after year, their dwellings being the much prized edible nests,
in such great demand among Chinese epicures, as a stock for their
soups. They resemble those of our own species, though a trifle more
elongated; and are composed of a peculiar kind of gelatinous seaweed,
very palatable when boiled with the addition of a little mixed spice.
When the young ones are fledged, the nests are separated from the rock,
to which they were attached by a secretion peculiar to the bird.
Soup flavoured with these nests is to the Chinese gourmand what green
turtle is to the alderman. Both are expensive; I never had the courage
to ascertain the price of _real_ turtle, but I know that the nests
fetch as much as £7 per pound, or, as each weighs about half an ounce,
nearly 5s. apiece.
And thus it comes about that this otherwise valueless rock rents for
one thousand rupees per annum; and a junk annually sails for China with
its precious freight.
We had to keep clear of the rock, so that I had on that occasion no
chance of examining the birds individually. They are little more than
four inches in length, while their expanse of wing is nearly three
times as much; on the back they are dark brown, which passes to lighter
shades underneath. In ornithological parlance they have been christened
_Collocatia Esculenta_. The fact that they are not scared away from
the place by the men and boys employed in appropriating their nests, is
presumably due to the abstinence of the natives in holding their hand
until the young are on the wing.
Not long after passing the rock, we anchored opposite the military
station of Mergui, now all alive with excitement. The smoke of the
steamer had been seen from afar, and the residents were aware that it
brought news—good to some, bad to others—from the dear ones at home.
The scene, as we let go the anchor, was striking in the extreme, and
transferred to canvas would have found favour in the eyes of the most
critical scenic painter of the modern school. In the foreground, the
afore-mentioned rock, rising sheer out of the cerulean blue, that sent
back the rays of an almost perpendicular sun, while a large opening
through the rock resembled an irregular archway. The station of Mergui
on elevated ground close to the sea, and backed by a primeval forest,
was on the left; while to the right, the emerald isles dotted the sea
southward.
Although we arrived somewhat early in the afternoon, certain
adventurous spirits came off at once, protected with pith hats and
Burmese umbrellas, and were on deck as soon as the anchor held and the
gangway had been lowered.
Very different from their apathetic brother officers at Tavoy, they
came off in quick succession; the captain was besieged, and bore
the ordeal bravely as usual, with a kind word for everyone, though
discriminating withal. They buzzed round him like bees, after the
manner of mankind in general, where the nectar is mostly stored, though
thirsting in this case for news.
Withdrawing from the group, I looked over the stern into the blue
water, which was clear as crystal, and saw hundreds of fish gathering
about the keel, darting hither and thither, and glistening with all
the colours of the rainbow as the rays of light fell upon them at
different angles. The smaller ones would get out of the way of the
larger; _seniores priores_ is the rule among the inhabitants of the
deep. Absorbed in the contemplation of these creatures, that have ever
interested me above all others, and wondering at the productiveness of
these warm seas, and at the survival of a species always at war with
each other, I did not at first notice that the captain was speaking to
me.
He wanted to introduce me to one of the residents, whose name and
face were equally familiar to me, and who turned out to be an old
fellow-student, who had joined the Madras army and had been shunted
with part of his regiment to this out-of-the-way place.
Considering that those were the halcyon days ere locomotion had carried
the now ubiquitous British tourist to every nook and corner of the
habitable globe, it was indeed a strange coincidence to encounter an
old friend in the neighbourhood of the Mergui Archipelago, which not
one out of a thousand at home had ever heard of; or if they had, the
name had described that overland route across the brain, which is not
uncommonly followed by the subjects taught at school.
Nowadays, of course, progress is setting its stamp upon all _five_
quarters of the globe; the beautiful names of Jones, Brown, Smith or
“Arry” may be seen carved on the Pyramids of Egypt; on the costly
marble of the Taj at Agra; on the Pagoda at Rangoon; and will ere
long doubtless ornament the giant trees in “Darkest Africa,” to the
astonishment of the Pigmies!
“_Cœlum non animum mutant_, etc...,” and whether in his own beloved
Epping Forest, or in a tropical jungle, he will ferret out nature’s
gems and destroy them; and in both places the course of his
peregrinations may be traced by empty beer bottles and greasy sandwich
papers.
The proprietor of an estate on the Dorset coast, which was laid out
for the convenience of the public, went so far as to supply printed
quotations from various authors, and a special tablet for the names of
visitors, but the latter remained black, while the rocks around were
deeply scored in every conceivable direction. Such conduct can only
be accounted for on the Darwinian theory, for the bump of mischief is
unquestionably more developed in the apes than in any other animal.
I invariably pencil under such names “sentenced for felony to penal
servitude for life!” or some equally agreeable sentence, which may,
or may not, have the desired effect. I was likewise struck when
visiting Stratford-on-Avon, and _the_ house there many years ago, by
the custodian requesting that we should not write our names, or even
initials, anywhere about the room in which the poet for all time is
said to have first seen the light.
The injunction was doubly superfluous; in the first place, my friends
and self were not in the habit of publishing ourselves in this most
objectionable manner; and secondly, even if so minded, we could not
have found a clear space for any one of our names!
Any encounter with a face not seen for many years, is sure to touch the
spring of recollection and set in motion the machinery of the past.
Pacing the deck, we wandered once more over the well-trodden road of
the past, recalling notable episodes, and conjecturing where sundry of
our fellow-students might even then be fighting the battle of life.
Just as we had arrived at the conclusion, not uncommonly held by young
men in respect of themselves, that nothing on earth was good enough for
us, we were joined by the captain, who held in his hand an invitation
for himself and me to dine and sleep ashore.
We accepted the invitation and entrusted the missive to my friend.
Rather nervous as to the limited state of my wardrobe, and hoping that
our entertainers would be the reverse of hypercritical, I went ashore
at the appointed time in the captain’s gig, and we found a considerable
party of ladies and gentlemen already assembled to meet us. The dinner
had evidently been got up in the captain’s honour, and it was on a
par with his usual thoughtfulness to get his guest included in his own
invitation.
To the relief of all parties, the ceremony of introductions was duly
accomplished, and we adjourned to dinner, the same ordeal as elsewhere,
but reflecting in this instance unbounded credit on their Madrassee
cook. It was undeniably a very pleasant evening, one of the most
sociable I can look back upon. Many of their faces I can see before me
still, the names, alas! have become effaced.
One of the topics of conversation was the variety and profusion of
orchids in the primeval forest close at hand; and, particularly struck
by the apathy with which everyone seemed to mention these choicest of
Nature’s gems, I inwardly resolved to be off to the forest early next
morning and bring back a load of the rarest kinds I could lay hands on.
Waking at an early hour, I partook of some tea and toast, and sallied
forth with my gun, which I had brought ashore, and—the wherewith to
indulge in a smoke, if so inclined.
The station was composed of a few bungalows built on rising ground
along the sea front; behind which intervened a strip of cultivated
land, and then one arrived at the edge of the mighty forest. The
dividing belt of open ground having been under rice, was now dry and
hard; and I consequently traversed it in a few minutes.
As in the affairs of life generally, my eagerness in this instance to
secure the coveted orchids had entirely warped my judgment; otherwise
I should have taken counsel with those proficient in local topography,
and should have brought with me a couple of Burmese with hatchets and
bamboo ladders.
Walking was easy enough owing to the total absence of undergrowth, and
fairly pleasant on the springy bed of leaves, which had accumulated
there for untold ages; while overhead the impenetrable lacework
of massive branches completely shut out the sun, leaving almost
indescribable gloom and darkness all around me. On looking up, I could
see huge branches literally covered with the unrivalled parasites,
their colours exceedingly varied and delicate, and their leaves greener
and more spotless than I had ever yet seen.
There was, however, one grave fault to be found with all of them—they
were far beyond my reach! It was horribly tantalizing; but hoping to
find others at a lower elevation, I plunged deeper into the forest
and—lost my way.
I came to the conclusion that I might fare worse if I went any further,
so I turned back.
I have already lost my way once in these pages, so I shall find it
again now as quickly as possible.
Nevertheless, my wanderings to that end were far from pleasant. I
deeply regretted not having told even the “bearer” whither I was
going. The place began to have a terrible fascination for me; on that
soft carpet, I reflected that any uncouth beast might creep upon me
unawares; while I began to scan the branches now, not for orchids,
but for pythons, which I almost fancied I could see, hanging down and
surveying me with their hard, lustreless eyes.
Nay, I refrained from firing a shot, by way of signal to a possible
search-party, from fear of awakening such monsters from their normal
state of lethargy.
At last, after about five hours’ wandering, I emerged into a sun, which
at first almost blinded me.
My absence was beginning to cause some anxiety at the house where I was
staying; and at breakfast, which had been put off on my account, I had
to make a clean breast of everything.
I was reminded by my hostess, that, besides the necessity of taking
natives on such an expedition, it would also have been more prudent to
have taken a few grains of quinine—of which I now swallowed five, at
her express solicitation—before setting foot in a place known to be
deadly, owing to pent-up malaria. And this was why the orchids were
left to waste their beauties on the forest air and blush unseen!
I saw but little of the native stockade, which, if my memory serves me
right, stood on a kind of delta, some way from the European quarters.
The inhabitants led a peaceful existence; the sea supplied them with
quantities of fish, which were dried for export; the land with timber
and “tuskers,” the latter very valuable for their ivory. Pearls too
were by no means rare, though not fished under any organized system.
Some of the islands further south are, I believe, several thousand feet
in height and extremely volcanic; but I had to refuse the only offer
to see them that was ever made to me. A few hours after our arrival,
another and larger steamer put in an appearance _en route_ to the
Andamans.
I was offered a passage; a tempting proposition, but which had to be
declined.
Besides being averse to leaving my host so abruptly, in short, making a
convenience of him, I had to consider the scanty state of my wardrobe—I
had left nearly everything at Moulmein, and the still lower ebb of
my funds. Pay was very small in those days, while the bulk of what I
received had to be remitted home forthwith. Fortunately the rate of
exchange was then about par; what my position would have been under the
present abnormally low rate, I tremble to think.
Having been thoroughly cleared out by the Mutiny, I found myself
severely handicapped by having to support a wife and child at home.
Some folks, dazzled by the brilliant prospects of the Indian Service,
refuse to see the reverse side of the medal; but they should take
into consideration the fact that on retirement with, say a colonel’s
pension of 365_l._, 60_l._ is deducted towards the Widows’ and Orphan’s
Pensions Fund, the same amount as he has paid for years from his full
pay.
The accounts are never published, never go beyond the sacred precincts
of the India Office, so we must take it on trust, that the funds could
not be maintained in any other way. The calculation of what an officer
has paid at this rate for forty years, with donations, interest, etc.,
would make the mouth of many an insurance agent water!
For the reasons already mentioned, I elected to return by the way
I had come, and had no reason to regret doing so. What if I did not
see the Andaman Islands! they were places of little or no interest.
A curse seemed to have rested on them. To begin with, their original
inhabitants were few and far between; wretched specimens of humanity,
at least morally and intellectually, if not physically; differing
from anything I had been accustomed to—Cannibals! Upon this promising
soil we then grafted the noblest types of the scum of India—mutineers,
murderers and Dacoits. That is to say, we focused on one spot all that
was worse than cannibalism, there to dream of vengeance, and pass the
remainder of their lives feeding on their dire hatred of mankind in
general, and every other passion likely to convert them into incarnate
devils, ten times worse than they had been before. Many were sent there
because they attempted to recover their country from the iron rule of
the usurper; others, because they acted up to the teachings of their
childhood.
Could we but form an idea of the evil passions which surged up in the
bosoms of those Asiatics torn by force from their own land, I believe
that even Dante’s immortal conception of the Inferno would pale its
ineffectual fire before that seething cauldron of pent-up human rage.
Before the advent of these horrors, the islands, even if we throw
cannibalism into the balance, must have been infinitely better than our
convict system has since made them.
That such a distinct race of people should have been confined to these
islands, part of the same chain as included the Nicobars, Sumatra and
Java, was also passing strange. The researches of Prichard and Latham
point to the origin of the various human types from a single pair, the
differences being due to the influence of climate, food and a variety
of other circumstances; and if this was the case, the divergence of the
Andamanese from Malay characteristics, considering their geographical
proximity, is still more unaccountable. But other ethnologists—Camper
of the Dutch school, the originator of the _facial angle_ test of
intelligence; Blumenbach of the vertical system; and Morton of American
fame—incline to the belief in separate origins and subsequent fusion by
intercommunication.
Science has yet much to account for in this direction.
Such a late breakfast brought the time of departure very near, as
the captain was anxious to leave as early as possible that afternoon.
As it was, he had to account for several hours’ delay, and would be
taken to task for any such unnecessarily indulged in. We therefore
took leave of our hospitable entertainers, and commenced the return
voyage to Moulmein, with no other passenger on board than myself. He
soon reminded me of my promise regarding the merchant’s experience on
the island, and I gratified his curiosity, narrating the facts much
as they have been here set forth. Moulmein was “made” in due time;
and I was heartily sorry to bid farewell to the captain, who had to
proceed straight to Calcutta, whereas my steamer would follow in the
wake of the _Pluto_ ten days later. I was glad of the respite, being
moreover in no hurry to change the clear, bright Salween for the muddy,
depressing Hooghly, with its defunct Hindoos and carrion fowl.
Before leaving Moulmein, I consulted with my friend as to some suitable
way of tendering my thanks to the captain for all the kindness and
hospitality I had received at his hands; and a plan was devised
and carried out on my return to India. This, while insignificant in
intrinsic value, served as a slight _souvenir_ of the time when he
had done all in his power to render the voyage as comfortable and
interesting as possible, and to wean me from brooding over the recent
Cimmerian period of the Mutiny. For some time we corresponded. If he
still lives, may we meet again on this side of the border!