ON BOARD THE "ROHILLA."
STEAMER "ROHILLA," NEAR MADRAS,
Dec. 27, 1889.
Christmas was a fearfully hot day in Columbo, ninety degrees or more,
and I did not go out in the morning, except to look into an Episcopal
church, which was handsomely decorated with flowers, the air being kept
cool by fans propelled by natives standing outside.
After lunch, accompanied by two friends, I drove around the city and
some miles into the country, over splendid roads. On the road we bought
three cocoa-nuts for five cents, and opening one, had a refreshing
drink.
We returned at 5 P.M. and at once came aboard this ship, one of the
finest of the splendid fleet of the P. & O. line. The weather, except
the terrible heat, continues perfect--not a ripple on the sea, the
sunsets splendid, and the starlit nights of great loveliness.
A lady from Hartford, Mrs. Brown, who is well up in astronomy, pointed
out to me last evening many stars never seen except in this part of the
world. A lady from New York, Mrs. R. H. L. Townsend, was taken seriously
ill on the 23d at the hotel; she was confined to her rooms for three
days, and had two doctors and a nurse; but just before I left for the
steamer I was glad to see that she had recovered so as to be able to
take a drive.
At the last moment the Captain decided to call at Madras, where we shall
be to-morrow, long enough to go ashore and see the famous city. Four
great steamers left Colombo the same evening that we did, one each for
Australia, Calcutta, Singapore, and Hong-Kong; one of them being a
German vessel of immense size, 7,000 tons. On this steamer we have all
the modern improvements: Edison lights, an excellent table, and always
plenty of ice. Life on the ocean, as we have it, is very pleasant, and
we get along nicely, though they tell of terrific storms which rage
here at other seasons.
The ship is full of passengers, largely English, returning from
Australia, very nice, kind, and agreeable people. Yesterday a north wind
sprang up and it was delightfully cool; the passengers were all on deck
in groups, a dozen of the stalwart young Englishmen playing the national
game, cricket; some reading, a lot of children playing, and all were
happy.
In the evening we had a delightful concert by amateurs, violin playing
by a young lady, parts of the "Bohemian Girl" and other operas being
rendered in a superior manner.
The ship slowed up so as not to get to Madras before morning, and it was
literally sailing on a summer sea; the moon sank down behind the waters
in a glow, presenting a beautiful appearance. I had a good sleep all
night, and at seven in the morning looked out and saw we were at Madras,
between two long break-waters. Soon breakfast was over, and we all
entered a big row-boat, propelled by ten bare-backed Hindoos; the ship
was surrounded by a dozen of these boats, the crews chattering and
shouting, and on one occasion a boy got overboard, but he did not mind,
swam about a short time and then got aboard, none the worse for his
ducking.
We could see that there was a heavy surf beating on the beach, but when
our boat struck the sand, I was lifted ashore by two strong black men,
followed by the ladies of the party, conveyed in a similar manner. We
took carriages and drove about the city, which is said to be the hottest
in India, but we did not find it so; on the contrary, it was very
comfortable. We went through the natives' quarters, and evidently they
had seen white people before, for they paid no attention to us, not so
much as we to them, as we were looking upon a race new to us. They had
marks on their foreheads, showing the caste to which they belonged. We
visited the markets, and saw that the banyan tree was quite common in
the squares and along the streets, and passing on to the great fort, we
looked at the big guns; then we entered St. George's Church, where there
were many statues of famous soldiers who had served in India and died
here. We called at the post-office, a large and beautiful building,
remarked on the fine roads, the handsome appearance of the women
dressed in bright-colored robes with silver ornaments in their noses
and on their toes, and then we passed on to the ship, well pleased that
we were not to stop any longer in such an unattractive place.
Sunday, December 29, 1889.
We reached the steamer at noon yesterday; the deck was crowded with
native merchants trying to sell mats and all kinds of curios, but
presently they were driven off to their boats, and at noon the ship was
put upon her course, due north, everybody comfortable and happy, the sea
as smooth as an inland lake. This morning we had a delightful service on
deck, read from the English Prayer Book by the Captain, assisted by one
of his officers; the singing, by young ladies, was particularly fine,
and now and again I could detect the sweet tenor of my friend from
Manchester.
Before the service the crew were mustered and reviewed by the Captain.
There were nearly one hundred of them, mostly Lascars, dressed in white
with colored turbans and presenting a very picturesque appearance.
Last evening I was interested to see a lady reclining on a steamer chair
on deck, and reading by the light of a portable electric lamp fastened
to the back of her chair. I interviewed her husband this morning, and he
informed me that it was one of Edison's inventions, and that they were
now common in London, and cost twenty dollars each. They are four inches
in diameter, and can be carried in the coat pocket. This one he charges
from one of the lights on the ship, and it will last fifteen hours.
December 30, 1889.
We are still rushing on over a placid sea at a moderate rate, as the
ship has never made more than 288 miles a day. The thermometer marks
seventy degrees, with a light breeze from the north, and warm woollen
clothing is comfortable. This is a great country for learning practical
temperance, none of our party having tasted liquor for a month, previous
experience having shown that they were much better without it.
I noticed two young men at dinner to-day who drank two large bottles of
champagne, but they will doubtless find out by experience that such
indulgences do not pay in this climate. We are only 12,500 miles from
New York now, and it seems quite like nearing home.