FROM CEYLON TO INDIA.--A MARINE ENTERTAINMENT.--THE STORY OF ROBINSON
CRUSOE.
There are several ways of going from Ceylon to India. Doctor Bronson and
the youths took them all into consideration before making their final
decision, and settling upon their route of travel.
[Illustration: TEMPLE AND TREES AT TUTICORIN.]
Once a week a steamer goes from Colombo to Tuticorin, which is at the
southern end of the great peninsula of Hindostan. From Tuticorin there
is a railway which connects with the whole railway system of India; few
people are aware of the extent to which railway construction has been
carried in the land of the Bramins, and it is not surprising that the
boys listened with something akin to astonishment, as the Doctor leaned
back in his chair and grew eloquent over what the builders of the iron
road had accomplished in this part of Asia.
"At the time of the Mutiny, in 1857," said the Doctor, "there were
barely 200 miles of completed railway in all India. From Calcutta
northward the line was finished to Ranegunge, 120 miles; and there were
about seventy miles in operation from Bombay toward Poonah. At present
there are nearly if not quite 7000 miles of iron road in India, and
every year sees a considerable addition to the grand total of miles. By
zigzagging across the country somewhat, it is possible to travel from
Tuticorin in the south to Lahore and Mooltan near the northern frontier.
The railways are of great importance in a military point of view, and if
they had existed in 1857 as they exist now, the Mutiny would have been
next to impossible.
"Let me give you a general idea of the entire system as it now is, and
for convenience we will start from Calcutta, the capital. The general
direction of the line from Calcutta is north-westerly. Benares is 476
miles away, Allahabad nearly a hundred miles farther, and Cawnpore
another hundred. Delhi is 955 miles from Calcutta, and when we step from
the train at Sher-shah, on the banks of the Indus, eleven miles from
Mooltan, we are 1510 miles from the capital city. From Sher-shah we can
proceed by steamboat on the Indus to Kotree in Scinde, whence another
railway will carry us to Kurrachee (Kur-_rach_-ee), near the entrance of
the Persian Gulf. There are several branches intended as feeders to the
main line, and also as military conveniences--notably, one from Benares
to Lucknow, and another from Cawnpore to Lucknow. From Allahabad to
Bombay there is a well-built line, and there is a line from Delhi and
Agra through Central India which enables the traveller to reach Bombay
by a different route from the one just mentioned.
"From Bombay there is a line northward to Baroda, and southward to
Madras and Tuticorin, and each of these lines has several feeders that
you can see on the maps. The whole net-work is well devised, and has
cost a vast amount of money, but it is worth all it cost. A writer, who
recently travelled through this country, has summed the matter up as
follows:
"'From the foot of the Himalayas and the Hindoo-Koosh, the iron horse
has a pathway to Cape Comorin and the tepid waters of the tropic seas.
In the north he drinks the waters from the melted snows of the loftiest
mountains on the globe; in the south he sniffs the spice-laden breezes
from palm-clad Ceylon, and sees the pole-star hugging the horizon and
anticipating the advent of the Southern Cross.'
"We will not go by way of Tuticorin," Doctor Bronson continued, "as we
shall have quite enough of travelling by rail without making the long
journey; and, besides, it would carry us to Bombay if we stuck to the
railway, and we want to keep that city for our point of departure from
India. We can, if we like, go by rail from Tuticorin to Madras, and
thence to Calcutta by steamer; the objection to this course is that
there are not many things of importance to see on the way, and the
journey will be fatiguing.
"For the same reason that we do not wish to go all the way by rail, we
will not take the weekly steamer from Colombo to Bombay, as it brings us
to that city before we have seen anything of Northern India.
"After considering all the routes, I think we had best take the weekly
steamer from Colombo to Calcutta; it stops at nearly a dozen points on
the coast, and gives us an opportunity to see a great deal that we might
otherwise miss. It travels generally at night, and stops during the day
at a port, and thus we can economize our time to decided advantage. The
steamer leaves this afternoon, and we can go leisurely on board after
lunch."
The recommendations of the Doctor were immediately accepted by Frank and
Fred, and they completed their preparations for departure by packing and
securing their trunks. At the appointed hour the baggage was piled into
a cart drawn by a couple of bullocks, and went to the landing-place in
charge of the porter of the hotel. The distance being slight, and the
afternoon cool, the party followed on foot.
"I declare," said Frank, as he watched the retreating cart with the
baggage, "I've forgotten something!"
"What is that?" Fred asked, in astonishment; "I thought it was one of
our rules never to forget anything?"
"I haven't forgotten anything of our property, if that's what you mean,"
Frank responded; "but it's something I have intended to write about."
"That's no serious consequence," said the Doctor, "as you will have an
abundance of time on the steamer. What is it?"
"It's the curious vehicles they have here in Ceylon, drawn by bullocks,
and by bullocks that trot, too. I'll write it out when I get on the
ship, and make sure I don't forget any more."
They had no trouble in getting to the steamer, though they narrowly
escaped a drenching from a wave that broke over the bows of the boat
that took them across the harbor. As soon as they were on board Frank
went below, and devoted himself to the production of the following:
[Illustration: A FASHIONABLE "HACKERY."]
"They have carriages for hire in the cities of Ceylon which are called
hackeries, and are drawn by hump-backed bullocks or sacred oxen. They
are almost entirely used by natives, and it is very rarely that you see
a European riding in one of them. These animals can travel thirty miles
a day easily, and can trot a mile or so as fast as an ordinary horse,
but you generally see them going at a walk. A nice hackery has a roof
over the top in a sort of dome shape, and there are cushions on which
the passengers sit. Frequently you see whole families of five or six
persons crowded into one of these carriages, and the bullocks trotting
smartly along as though they enjoyed their work. Then they have carts
for carrying baggage and similar work; in a case where a man in New York
would send for a dray, he sends for a bullock-cart in Colombo or Kandy.
"Doctor Bronson says these animals are the sacred oxen of India and the
East. Their native name is zebu, and their scientific one _Bos Indicus_;
they are distinguished by a hump on the shoulders, and are much smaller
than the oxen of America. In India they are worshipped, and they run
around the temples and do pretty much as they please; they give a great
deal of trouble to the dealers in grain, as they have no manners at all,
and help themselves to anything they want. The natives consider it a sin
to kill them, but their sacred character does not save them from doing a
great deal of hard work.
"There is a story that at one time the sacred bulls of the temples of
Benares, in India, extended their wanderings into the part of the city
where the English live; there was a slaughter-house there where the
foreigners were provided with beef, and the bulls discovered that some
of their number disappeared mysteriously whenever they went near the
slaughter-house. What became of them was never known; but suddenly the
bulls gave up going there, or even into the English quarter, and
sometimes, when a young bull ventured too far, one of the old ones on
watch would bellow and call him back. I cannot say if this is really so,
but give the story as I heard it.
[Illustration: EASTERN MODE OF FEEDING OXEN.]
"In many of the stables where these animals are kept, the stall is
arranged so that when the occupant is feeding he must place his
fore-feet considerably higher than his hind ones. The natives believe
that this process causes the food to digest more readily than if all the
feet of the ox are on a level."
When Frank had finished, it was Fred's turn to think of something that
had been forgotten.
"It will never do," said he, "to leave our accounts of Ceylon without
saying something about Adam's Bridge. As you have looked after the oxen,
it is my duty to attend to the story of the bridge."
And so, after collecting from the books they had with them and from
personal information, Fred wrote as follows:
"Ceylon is fifty-three miles from India, but is almost connected with it
by some islands and a reef that together form what is called Adam's
Bridge. There are two islands, Ramisseram and Manaar, and the rest of
the bridge is a reef of sand and sandstone. There are several openings,
the largest being forty yards wide and ten feet deep; the Government has
proposed to deepen it so as to allow the passage of large ships, and
will probably do so one of these days. It is certain to cost a great
deal of money, and that is why it has been postponed.
"The Hindoo legends say the bridge was made by one of their gods,
assisted by an army of monkeys, who built it in a single night. The
Bramins also claim it, and so do the Mohammedan Arabs, who gave it the
name of Adam's Bridge, and say that Adam came from India and crossed on
this bridge on his way to heaven, which he reached by jumping from the
peak which bears his name. Some of the old accounts declare that Ceylon
was once joined to the Continent, and several English engineers and
geologists who have examined the formation of the land say this is quite
probable.
[Illustration: PART OF A HINDOO PAGODA.]
"On the island of Ramisseram is a large Hindoo pagoda, where a great
many pilgrims go at certain seasons of the year. There are also two very
old tombs which the Mohammedans say belong to Cain and Abel. Some
writers have thought the Garden of Eden was in Ceylon, and the Arabs say
that when the children of Adam were scattered they went north toward
India, and Cain and Abel were buried in this island."
The steamer sailed about sunset, and on the next morning she anchored in
the harbor of Point de Galle. The day was passed in pleasant drives and
walks around the place, and in closing up letters which would be taken a
couple of days later by the weekly steamer that touches there on her way
from the Far East to Europe. At sunset the steamer sailed again, and
turned around the coast of Ceylon to head northward into the Bay of
Bengal, and the next day she steamed along the coast with the shore
nearly always in sight, her destination being Negapatam, on the coast of
India.
There were about a dozen passengers in the cabin of the steamer; they
included, besides our friends, two government officials with their
wives, a member of the clergy of the Church of England, two planters
going from Ceylon to Madras on business, and a little group of three
strangers who could not be made out at a first glance. It soon became
known that they were actors who had been playing in the cities of
Ceylon, and were now on their way to India, where they hoped to make a
profitable tour of the country.
On the second evening of the voyage the actors entertained the rest of
the passengers with songs and recitations till it was time to put out
the lights. The next morning Frank and Fred were in consultation with
Doctor Bronson relative to a scheme they had concocted for contributing
to the fund of amusement. The Doctor gave his assent, with the remark
that they had been working and studying very diligently for some time,
and a little recreation would be quite in order. "Besides," said he, "it
is quite proper when at sea for all to contribute what they can
conveniently to the entertainment of their fellow-passengers; they are
doubly rewarded for the effort, as they secure occupation for
themselves, and thus pass the voyage agreeably, and at the same time add
to the happiness of those who are on board with them."
For a couple of days very little was seen on deck of the two youths; the
weather was of the temperature that kept the cabins comfortable, and
enabled them to conduct the work on which they were so mysteriously
engaged. The steamer stopped at Negapatam for a couple of hours, but the
captain said there was nothing to be seen on shore, and, therefore, the
labor was not interrupted. Then she steamed on to Pondicherry, and in
the evening, when dinner was over, a notice was circulated to the effect
that there would be a grand exhibition in the cabin, to which the
captain and passengers were invited. "It will be," said the bill, "a
panorama of the wonderful adventures of Robinson Crusoe, in prose and
poetry, and also in pictures prepared at vast expense by two celebrated
artists who have engaged passage on this ship regardless of expense."
At the appointed time the passengers assembled, and the boys stepped
before the curtain--a table-cover borrowed from the steward. Frank was
the speaker of the occasion, while Fred had charge of the panorama: the
latter consisted of a series of sketches in heavy crayon, with
occasional touches from a box of water-colors to heighten the effect. As
soon as quiet had been secured, Frank began:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--It is hardly to be supposed there is any
one in this vast audience who has not read the story of Robinson
Crusoe, which we are about to illustrate; consequently, I will not
tell you about him, especially as he never existed at all, and was
never thought of till a Scotch sailor named Alexander Selkirk lived
all alone for four years on an island in the Pacific Ocean. The
adventures of this sailor gave Daniel Defoe the hint to write the
story of Crusoe: it has been done in verse by some one else, and it
is the poetical version which I shall now give you."
Frank paused an instant while Fred placed the first picture of the
series on a temporary easel, composed of the back of a chair, which
stood on the end of the cabin table. As soon as the picture was
adjusted Frank recited the lines:
"'When I was a lad my fortune was bad,
My grandfather I did lose, oh;
I'll wager a fan you've heard of the man,
His name it was Robinson Crusoe.'
[Illustration: ROBINSON CRUSOE.]
"Now," said Frank, "it is customary to sing this song to an
accompaniment, but we are out of music to-night, and the audience
must be contented with a recitation. If we gave it in song, we
should expect you to join in the chorus, which would be in the
following words:
"Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!
Sing tinky ting tang, sing tinky ting tang,
Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!'"
By this time Fred had changed the scene--that is, he had removed
the first picture and brought out the second. Frank then proceeded:
[Illustration: THE SHIPWRECK.]
"'You've read in a book of a voyage he took,
How the raging whirlwinds blew, so
That the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,
Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"But we need have no fears of sharing the same fate," said Frank,
"as we are in a steamer instead of a sailing-ship, and the raging
whirlwinds would not be so likely to drive us on shore; and,
besides, we are not in the season of typhoons, and everything
promises us a prosperous voyage. Next picture."
The appearance of this work of art was the signal for the recital
of the third verse of the old song:
[Illustration: LANDING OF ROBINSON CRUSOE.]
"Poor soul! none but he escaped from the sea.
Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?
At length he was thrown on an island unknown,
And saved was poor Robinson Crusoe.'"
The next picture was produced with great promptness, and the
audience was left to pick out the various properties of the hero
of the story, while Frank continued:
[Illustration: CRUSOE'S EQUIPMENT.]
"'But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,
And another old matter or two, so
That by dint of his thrift he managed to shift
Pretty well for poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"A contemplation of this admirable painting," said Frank, "will
show you how much may be accomplished by very small means with a
man of determination, or what amounts to pretty much the same
thing, a man that can't help himself. It is hardly necessary to say
that the hero of our story was obliged to make the best of
everything, and the next picture shows how he accomplished it.
[Illustration: CRUSOE AND HIS GUN.]
"He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,
The cattle away from him flew, so
That but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,
And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.'"
[Illustration: CRUSOE AND HIS PETS.]
By this time Fred had become accustomed to handling the sketches,
and the change was made with great alacrity. Frank rested a moment
till the eyes of the audience had sufficiently scanned the picture
presented for their inspection, and which revealed the interior of
Crusoe's residence when that gentleman was at dinner, with his pets
about him. "The parrot will speak for himself," said Frank, "and
therefore we will proceed with the narrative. The rest of the pets
have never been known to talk, except in fables, and therefore we
may conclude that they had nothing to say, though there is no
reason to doubt that they were always glad to see their master, and
did their best to console him and to lighten the burden of his
solitude. From the appearance of things we may regard the family as
a happy one.
"'He happened to save from the merciless wave
A poor parrot, believe me 'tis true, so
That when he came home from his wearisome roam,
She'd cry out 'Poor Robinson Crusoe!'"
"The explanation of the next picture may possibly be a tax on your
credulity," said Frank; "but it is so stated in the song, and I
cannot alter the words as they were originally written. The author
doubtless availed himself of what is called 'the poet's license,'
and followed Crusoe's example of using everything at his command.
[Illustration: CRUSOE'S CASTLE.]
"'Then he got all the wood that ever he could,
And stuck it together with glue, so
He made him a hut, in which he did put
All the flocks of Robinson Crusoe.'"
At the termination of the second line Frank placed his fingers
together to form an imaginary house-roof and indicate the way in
which the castle of Robinson Crusoe was constructed. He explained
to the audience that there had been much controversy concerning
this matter, and it had happened in several instances that
individuals who experienced no difficulty in believing Robinson
Crusoe had really existed, and accepted his story as a true one,
were thrown into a condition of doubt by the announcement that he
employed glue in building his house. They argued that, in the first
place, glue was difficult if not impossible for him to procure;
and, secondly, it was a very poor material to use in cementing a
roof. "But we will drop this discussion," said he, "and go on to
the next scene. You will allow me to remark that the arrival of
Friday made an end of the solitude of Robinson Crusoe, and gave him
the human companionship he desired.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF FRIDAY.]
"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy--
For be sure 'twas his business to do so--
They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,
Lived Friday with Robinson Crusoe.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF THE HERO.]
"And here is the portrait of the hero of the story," said Frank, as
the next picture was brought out, "and you can judge of his
personal character by the appearance of his features. His clothing
is not such as would secure him ready admission to the best society
of England and America; but, as he had no prying neighbors, and
nobody to criticise his actions, it is not at all strange that he
adopted this style of dress, particularly when there were no
tailors and no ready-made clothing-stores on the island.
"'Then he wore a large cap, and his clothes without nap,
And a beard as long as a Jew, so
That when dressed in his coat he resembled a goat
More than poor Robinson Crusoe.'
"And now comes the last," said Frank, as the closing picture of the
series was produced. "And allow us to thank you, ladies and
gentlemen, for your attention, and to express the hope that our
efforts at whiling away part of the evening have not been
altogether in vain. Alexander Selkirk disappeared from history when
he left the island of Juan Fernandez and returned to England, and
the story of Robinson Crusoe terminates in the same way. Our
exhibition closes with the welcome arrival of the ship.
[Illustration: A SAIL! A SAIL!]
"'At length within hail he saw a stout sail,
And he took to his little canoe, so
When he reached the ship they gave him a trip,
And to England brought Robinson Crusoe.'"
The boys bowed and retired, the audience applauded, and then one of the
actors recited Cowper's lines on Alexander Selkirk, beginning
"I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute."
Then another of the party sung "A Life on the Ocean Wave;" and just as
he reached the concluding lines the whistle of the steamer sounded, the
engines came to a sudden stop, and the meeting, adjourned in a body to
the deck to see what was the matter.
Lights gleamed on the shore and on ships at anchor near them; they saw
at a glance that there was nothing alarming in the situation, and hardly
needed the assurance of the captain, who came aft just then, that they
were in front of Pondicherry.