water-path which a boat would need to follow between the ship and the
shore. It was traced quite distinctly, as if in a very devious track
of indigo, through the bright blue water and the white tips breaking
on the coral reefs, whilst every here and there a wee islet, on which
earth and grass-seed were quickly finding their way, had pushed its
head up. It seemed an object-lesson on the very beginning of things.
The worst of all this was that the big ship could not come at all near
the shore, and, as we were always to sleep on board, the little voyage
twice a day entailed a good deal of forethought on account of the tide.
However, both weather and tide were highly favourable by three o’clock
that same afternoon, when the official landing took place with perfect
success. I could not help glancing triumphantly at the now radiant
reception committee as, with hardly a breath of air stirring and not a
cloud in the sky, we stepped out of the admiral’s barge. Needless to
say, the entire population of Rodrigues were crowded on the little
wharf, which was gaily carpeted with red and roofed with palm branches.
Even the two _condamnés_, representing the evil-doers of the community,
stood in the background in friendly converse with their gaoler, who
would not on any account miss the show. Our friend the pilot was there
also in great form, and it seemed he had been taking to himself the
credit of having arranged the visit. He was not in carpet slippers this
time, however, which was a pity; for, if he had only known it, the
carpet slippers in which he had been forced to present himself before
the Lieutenant-Governor, after his terrible voyage in February, had, as
he called it, _abîméd_ his feet, and, adding a certain dramatic touch
of reality to the tale of suffering—counted for something in the end.
A resplendent guard of honour of Marines had preceded us, and so had
the ship’s band. “Ces Messieurs avec les trompettes” became at once
first favourites, and remained so to the end. Primitive and friendly
as it all was, there yet was no escaping the inevitable addresses,
which had to be in French, as that is really the language of the little
island, though I fear it was not of the purest Parisian type. Happily,
I could perceive no traces of famine or even of hard times in the
crowds which surrounded us. All seemed fat, and buxom, and beaming. I
looked anxiously at the children, for I remember the heart-breaking
sight the poor little ones had presented when I had passed through an
Indian famine district long years before the Rodrigues visit. These
babies were as plump as ortolans, and as merry as crickets.
Friendly and almost universal handshaking brought the affair to an
end—“une vraie fête de famille,” as I heard it called—and we were
free to adjourn to the magistrate’s pretty house for a welcome cup of
tea. The moment it had been hastily swallowed and F. had got out of
his gold-laced coat, he and the magistrate adjourned to the little
court-house close by and plunged at once into business, being with
difficulty hailed forth in time to return on board for a very late
dinner. Nothing had any effect on their movements except threats of
the falling tide. In fact, the state of the tide governed—not to say
tyrannised over—our arrangements that whole week. “Pray be punctual
to-morrow morning, on account of the tide,” was the last thing I heard
at night, and no engagement on shore could be made until the state
of the water at a given hour was ascertained. In spite, however,
of punctuality and care, we had to make some ridiculous _trajets_,
beginning in great pomp in the admiral’s barge, changing half-way into
smaller boats, then into canoes, and finally being piloted through
the shallows standing on a tiny plank laid across a stout leaf and
propelled by a swimmer; yet one always arrived dry-shod though much
agitated.
We had only a very few days to stay in Rodrigues, for the _Euryalus_
had to return to Madagascar to pick up her admiral; but there were two
things which must absolutely be accomplished during our visit. One was
an expedition to “The Mountain” to visit the good priests and make a
closer acquaintance with the needs of that particular district, and the
other was to have a day’s sport. This, I must add, was chiefly in the
interests of our kind naval hosts, for I honestly believe that both F.
and the magistrate would have greatly preferred a long and happy day in
the court-house, hard at work.
The mountain excursion entailed our leaving the ship at eight o’clock
of a lovely morning. In fact, the bad weather seemed to have ceased
with our landing, and it proved ideally calm and beautiful all that
week. As no wheeled vehicle, or horse to draw it, exists on Rodrigues,
_chaises à porteurs_ were provided for the two ladies of the party,
and all the gentlemen walked. For the first five miles the road was
excellent, having, indeed, been a “relief work” during one of the
famines. It zigzagged up the steep hill-sides very easily, and wound
through natural groves of oranges and lemons, plantains and palms,
which afforded a welcome shade. The small houses—_cases_, as they are
called—looked trim and pretty, each with its “provision ground” of yams
and sweet potatoes, and one soon got high enough to look over them on
to the little town nestling among trees, with large patches of bright
green grass between it and the sea. The _Euryalus_ made a stately
object in the foreground, and dwarfed the little fishing-boats and
pirogues which swarmed around her to the size of toys. I noticed that
the sails of these tiny craft were stained with much the same vivid
colours one sees at Chioggia, and the colouring of both sky and sea was
truly Italian, as were the “soft airs of Paradise,” which made walking
a pleasure.
Still, many halts were called, ostensibly to admire the charming
panorama, but also to pick wild oranges and other juicy fruits.
Flowers, more or less wild, grew in profusion all round us, and I was
soon laden with beautiful blossoms.
We were already a large party when we started, and our enormous “tail”
increased as we passed through each hamlet. The last part of the road
proved merely a mountain track over rough boulders, and all felt glad
when the hill-top was reached and we were once more on a tolerably
level track. The village of Gabrielle appeared to have availed itself
of every inch of cover from the summer hurricanes, and each ravine or
dip in the ground was occupied by a little _case_ and garden. A fine
triumphal arch awaited us here, beneath which stood the two abbés, with
the whole population of the district as a background. Such a smiling
crowd, and such a cordial welcome!
After the inevitable address, an attempt was made to raise “le
God-save” (as it is always called in Mauritius), but its tones were
wavering and uncertain, and the tune showed a tendency to turn into the
“Old Hundredth,” so it was somewhat of a relief when it was succeeded
by a local hymn of welcome, which they all knew, and which was given
with great heartiness and lung power. The refrain “Et vivat! et vivat!”
was most spirited, and went really well.
By this time, however, we all felt very hungry, and were glad to be
taken to the presbytery, close to the little chapel, where _déjeuner_
awaited us. Wild kid, poultry, eggs, and fruit made up an excellent
meal, followed by perfect coffee; and then the serious business of the
day began.
I betook myself to the sheltered side of a _case_, where I could view
the sort of open-air meeting which was going on to leeward of the
chapel, and of which F. and the priests formed the central figures.
An interpreter had to be found, for the island has a patois of its
own, different even from that of Mauritius. This interpreter was an
Irishman, and his gestures were so dramatic that I could really make a
good guess at the story which was being unfolded; but I felt somewhat
puzzled when, towards the end, he flung his old hat on the ground and
danced on it. I wondered if he was asking for Home Rule! All the men in
the settlement had crowded round F. and the priests, so I found myself
the centre of a large gathering of the women of Gabrielle. Children
were there in numbers, but had no chance of getting near me, and there
was always the difficulty of the language. What my smiling jet-black
friends seemed most curious about was my “civil status,” and that of
the other lady. “Madame ou Ma’amzelle?” was the incessant question to
both of us. I singled out one extraordinarily ugly but beaming and big,
fat girl to put the same question to, and I can never forget the droll
air of coquetry with which she laid one black finger against an equally
black cheek, turned her head aside, and murmured bashfully, “Moi, je
suis Modeste.”
This out-of-door parliament lasted a couple of hours, and by that time
all the burning questions and even the grievances had been laid before
the Lieutenant-Governor, and it was necessary to make a start if we
were to catch the tyrant tide. So the procession re-formed, only with
the _chaises à porteurs_ left out, for we ladies preferred to walk
down, especially at first; and off we set, the priests leading, our
little party next, and a dense crowd everywhere. They all sang hymns,
winding up with the first we had heard, and lusty shouts of “Et vivat!
et vivat!” pursued us almost to the bottom of the hill. Never was a
more affectionate leave-taking, and the expressions of gratitude to F.
for the trouble he had taken were really most touching. We carried the
dear abbés back to dine on board with us, as there was yet much to be
discussed.
The next day was supposed to be one of rest as far as exercise
went, and whilst F. was busy indoors with work, I was taken by the
magistrate’s wife round the little town of Port Mathurin to visit the
school and the tiny hospital, as well as to return the calls of some
of the leading ladies. It is a very healthy island apparently, much
more so than Mauritius, but then it is not so desperately overcrowded
as its big sister. The chief complaint I heard was of the idleness and
inertia of the people themselves, and of how difficult it was to induce
them to do anything except dawdle—good-humouredly enough—through their
lives. Of course, this partly accounts for the famine and distress.
They just live from day to day, and make no sort of provision for even
the morrow, still less the rainy or hurricane day.
There certainly was no inertia, however, on the part of the children at
a christening service the bishop held in the schoolroom that afternoon.
Such vigorous protests against the sacred rite could not be imagined,
and it was difficult to get through it on account of the noise of the
children’s shrieks. The mothers did not seem in the least distressed
or alarmed at the outcries of their offspring; indeed, one black lady
remarked to me—I was the universal godmother—“C’est peut-être M. le
Diable qui s’en va?” I can’t think why the children were so terrified,
because the bishop christened the babies first, and all was calm and
holy peace until I attempted to lead up a small boy of about four years
old. He started a wild yell and frantic struggles, in which all the
others joined, till at last I felt inclined to take part in the chorus
of sobs myself. The bishop’s tact and gentle patience were marvellous,
but did not avail to allay the fears of the neophytes.
Our last day at Rodrigues held, indeed, hard work, for we spent it from
an early hour _en chasse_, the paraphernalia of which might have served
for at least a small punitive expedition. Such munitions of war, in the
shape of guns and cartridges! and the commissariat was on an equally
liberal scale. This excursion took us quite to the other side of the
island, and we crossed a little bay to get to it, so a small fleet of
fishing-boats had been commandeered for the occasion. This brought us
in touch with most of the fisherfolk, and F. seized the opportunity of
thoroughly investigating their needs and wants.
There is really a good deal of game on the island; deer, partridges,
and wild guinea-fowl were promised us; but, alas! we had reckoned
without the first lieutenant of the _Euryalus_, who availed himself of
our absence to have a thoroughly happy day with his big guns, the noise
of which drove every beast and bird as far away as possible. However,
there was still the long delightful day in the open air, and it was
always possible to get shade beneath the vacoas, a sort of palm, common
also in Mauritius, of whose fibre sacks, baskets, and lots of useful
things are made. But the _Latanier_ is the maid-of-all-work among
palms. All the little _cases_ are built and thatched with it, its fibre
makes excellent rope, and doubtless it could be turned to many other
uses.
In spite of our really enormous luncheon, we were bidden to a banquet
on our return to Port Mathurin, and that day actually ended with a
ball! We had made ourselves independent of the tyranny of the tide for
once, and had brought our evening things on shore with us, so a very
sunburnt and sleepy group in uniforms and ball dresses made the best
of their way on foot to the court-house somewhere about nine o’clock,
and absolutely danced with spirit and vigour until the coxswain put his
head in at the door and murmured, “Tide’s falling, sir.” It was just
about midnight, and we all fled like so many Cinderellas. No need to
wrap up, for a lace scarf was sufficient on such a balmy night, and
the moonlight felt quite warm.
We certainly would not have been allowed to take so hurried a departure
had it not been settled that we were to breakfast on shore next
morning and make our real farewells then. The guard of honour and the
_trompettes_ preceded us once more, and there was a sort of attempt
at an official “send-off.” But the islanders took the matter into
their own hands this time, and I really believe every human being in
Rodrigues came to see us off, and to thank and bless “_Excellence_” for
having paid them so long a visit. The _condamnés_ were there too, and
solemnly promised me to be models of good behaviour for the future. My
numerous god-children were now (scantily) clothed, but in their right
minds, and their mothers tried hard to get them to express their regret
for having been _si méchant_; but that part of the performance did not
come off. However, they got their bags of sugar plums all the same.
The inevitable address was got through in dumb show, and we were
followed not only to the water’s edge but into the water itself by the
affectionate farewells of all the poor people. It was so touching, the
way they brought gifts. Modeste was there with oranges and eggs in each
hand. Indeed, I may mention here that eggs, however fresh, are very
embarrassing tokens of affection when given in dozens. I presented
all mine to the fo’castle, as well as sundry sacks of oranges; and as
for my bouquets, they would have stocked a flower-shop. It was quite
with difficulty we pushed off at last. Fortunately, the tide allowed
the admiral’s barge to come up to the little jetty, for I am sure if we
had started on a palm leaf, as we sometimes did, there would have been
disasters and wet feet, to say the least of it.
By the time the _Euryalus_ was reached, she was found to be ringed
round by boats of all sorts and sizes, and it was quite difficult to
get, first on board and then off. “Et vivat!” rang out in great force
on every side, and even a tremulous “God-save”; but the hearty thanks
and benedictions were the pleasantest sounds. At last the screw turned,
and the fine old ship headed once more for the wide ocean. The boats
and waving kerchiefs were soon dwarfed into so many dots on the dancing
waves, and in an hour or two we had looked our last on Rodrigues.
The wind was fair for going back, and the voyage proved quite smooth as
well as very pleasant. “Ces Messieurs avec les trompettes” discoursed
delightful music to us after dinner, and the soft moonlight lasted
all the way back. The dear old _Euryalus_ has gone the way of old
ships, but has happily left a smart successor to her name and fame.
Regular communication (that is to say, as regular as the hurricanes
will allow) has been established with Rodrigues, and it must be more
prosperous, for I see by the latest returns that the population has
doubled itself since that delightful visit.
XIV
COLONIAL SERVANTS
My very first experience of the eccentricities of colonial servants
dates a good deal more than half a century ago, and the scene was laid
in Jamaica, where my father then held the office of “Island Secretary”
under Sir Charles—afterwards Lord Metcalfe—the Governor. It was
Christmas day, and I had been promised as a great treat that my little
sister and I should sit up to late dinner. But the morning began with
an alarm, for just at breakfast-time an orderly from one of the West
Indian regiments, then stationed in Spanish Town, had brought a letter
to my father which had been sent upstairs to him. I was curled up in
a deep window-seat in the shady breakfast-room, enjoying a brand-new
story-book and the first puffs of the daily sea-breeze, when I heard a
guttural voice close to my ear whispering, “Kiss, missy, kiss.” There
stood what seemed a real black giant compared with my childish stature,
clad in gorgeous Turkish-looking uniform with a big white turban and a
most benignant expression of face, holding his hand out, palm upwards.
I gazed at this apparition—for I had only just returned to Jamaica—with
paralysed terror, while the smiling ogre came a step nearer and
repeated his formula in still more persuasive tones. At this moment,
however, my father appeared and said, “Oh yes, all right; he wants
you to give him a Christmas-box. Here is something for him.” It
required even then a certain amount of faith as well as courage to
put the silver dollar into the outstretched palm, but the man’s joy
and gratitude showed the interpretation had been quite right. I did
not dare to say what my alarm had conjured up as the meaning of his
request, for fear of being laughed at.
As well as I remember, at that Christmas dinner-party—and it was a
large one—the food was distinctly eccentric, edibles usually boiled
appearing as roasts and _vice versâ_. The service also was of a
jerky and spasmodic character, and the authorities wore an air of
anxiety, which, however, only added to the deep interest I took in
the situation. But things came to a climax when the plum-pudding,
which was to have been the great feature of the entertainment, did
not appear at its proper time and place, and a tragic whisper from
the butler suggested complications in the background. My father said
laughingly, “I am sorry to say the cook is drunk and will not part
with the plum-pudding,” so we went on with the dinner without it. But
just as the dessert was being put on the table there was a sound as of
ineffectual scrimmaging outside, and the cook—a huge black man clad in
spotless white—rushed in bearing triumphantly a large dish, which he
banged down in front of my father, saying, “Dere, my good massa, dere
your pudding,” and immediately flung himself into the butler’s arms
with a burst of weeping. I shall always see that pudding as long as I
live. It was about the size of an orange and as black as coal. Every
attempt to cut it resulted in its bounding off the dish, for it was as
hard as a stone. Though not exactly an object of mirth in itself, it
certainly was “a cause that mirth was in others,” and so achieved a
success denied to many a better pudding.
Several years passed before I again came across black servants, and the
next time was in India. I was not there long enough, nor did I lead a
sufficiently settled life, to be able to judge of the Indian servant of
that day. Half my stay in Bengal was spent under canvas, and certainly
the way in which the servants arranged for one’s comfort under those
conditions was marvellous. The camp was a very large one, for we were
making a sort of military promenade from Lucknow up to Lahore—my
husband being the Commanding Officer of Royal Artillery in Bengal—but
I only went as far as the foot of the Hills and then up to Simla. It
was amazing the way in which nothing was ever forgotten or left behind
during four months’ continuous camp-life. All my possessions had to be
divided, and, where necessary, duplicated, for what one used on Monday
would not be get-at-able until Wednesday, and so on all through the
week. No matter how interesting my book was, I could not go on with it
for thirty-six hours—_i.e._ from, say Monday night till breakfast-time
on Wednesday morning. I could have a new volume for Tuesday, but the
interest of that had also to remain in abeyance until Thursday. Still,
I would find the book precisely where I laid it down, and if I had put
a mark, even a flower, it would be found exactly in the right place.
I always wondered when and how the servants rested, for they seemed
to me to be packing and starting all night long, and yet when the new
camping-ground was reached the head-servants would always be there in
snowy garments, as fresh and trim as if they came out of a box. There
were two sets of under-servants, but the head ones never seemed to be
off duty.
We started with the first streak of daylight, and there was no choice
about the matter, for if you did not get up when the first bugle blew,
your plight would be a sorry one when the canvas walls of the large
double tent fell flat at the sound of the second bugle, half-an-hour
later. The roof of the tent was left a few moments longer, so one had
time for hot fragrant coffee and bread and butter before starting
either on horse or elephant back. I generally rode on a pad on the
_hathi’s_ back for the first few miles while it was still dark, and
mounted my little Arab some six or eight miles further on. The marches
were as near twenty-five miles daily, as could be arranged to suit the
Commander-in-Chief’s convenience as to inspections, &c.
Everything was fresh and amusing, but I think I most delighted in
seeing the modes of progression adopted by the various cooks. Our
head-cook generally requisitioned a sort of gig, in which he sat in
state and dignity, with many bundles heaped around him. Part of his
cavalcade consisted of two or three very small ponies laden with
paniers, on top of which invariably stood a chicken or two, apparently
without any fastenings, who balanced themselves in a precarious manner
according to the pony’s gait. No one seemed to walk except those who
led the animals, and as the camp numbered some 5000 soldiers and quite
as many camp-followers the supply-train appeared endless.
Just as we neared the foot of the Himalayan range, where the camp was
to divide, some of us going up to Simla, leaving a greatly lessened
force to proceed to Lahore, smallpox appeared among our servants. I
wonder it did not spread much more, but it was vigorously dealt with
at the outset. I had as narrow an escape as anybody, for one morning,
while I was drinking my early coffee and standing quite ready to start
on our daily march, one of the servants, a very clever, useful Madras
“boy” whom I had missed from his duties for several days, suddenly
appeared and cast himself at my feet, clutching my riding-habit and
begging for some tea. He was quite unrecognisable, so swollen and
disfigured was his poor face, and I had no idea what was the matter
with him. He was delirious and apparently half-mad with thirst. The
doctor had to be fetched to induce him to let me go, and as more than
once the poor lad had seized my hands and kissed them in gratitude for
the tea I at once gave him, I suppose I really ran some risks, for
it turned out to be a very bad case of confluent smallpox. However,
all the same, he had to be carried along with us in a dhooly until we
reached a station where he could be put into a hospital.