STEAMER PEKIN, FOR BOMBAY, _Oct. 20, 1851_.
From Calcutta I came down to Madras, the capital of the Presidency of
the same name, by the steamer Haddington, on her way to Suez. It lies
some six hundred miles south of Calcutta, and is a city of considerable
trade, notwithstanding its bad roadstead, where the surf is most
formidable. We landed in a masoolah boat, of great depth of hold,
entirely open, built of elastic wood, the joints stuffed with oakum
and sewed together, without a nail in the construction, which enables
them to spring and give when they strike bottom. These boats are worked
by twelve boatmen, who keep up a singular chant or howl as they pass
through the almost irresistible surf.
I found here a means of floating, which surpasses the Ceylon or
Sandwich Island boats, being more primitive; they are called
catamarans, and the natives manage them in the most skilful manner.
Imagine to yourself a small raft eight feet in length, of three logs
tied together and pointed at one end, which they go out upon, and
which, when they return, is untied, and dried upon the shore. One or
two men are seen upon these slight supports in the heaviest surfs,
like black imps sitting crouched upon their heels and making good use
of their paddles. Sometimes they are thrown off and hidden in the
waves, but like magic they catch on again. One of the great objects of
attraction for strangers is the civil and military service club, about
three miles from town, and prettily situated with all the comforts and
luxuries of the east. The hotels of the city are miserable.
There is but little to interest the traveller at Madras, which is on
a flat sandy plain, with reddish-colored soil. Black Town, the native
part, is poorly built, and the people are a cringing, menial, lazy set,
kept under great subjugation and treated as brutes by the existing
powers. The climate is better than that of Calcutta, on account of the
sea breeze, and the drives along the sea beach, which in the suburbs
make the place supportable. The jugglers and mountebanks of this
country are celebrated, and perform some remarkable feats. We were
infested with them in the street in front of our hotel, performing
somersets, springing through hoops, and passing over swords, &c.,
without the aid of spring boards upon the solid earth. Next come the
snake charmers, who bring their snakes in baskets, which are placed
upon the ground; they then play a sort of bagpipe, after which they
blow at the snakes and play again, when they open the basket and a
large cobra-de-capello rises up with a peculiar hood spread back of the
head, his long neck arched like a horse’s; he attempts to strike, but
the charmers know their distance. We had half a dozen snakes dancing at
the same time, around their masters, while another group was waiting
to swallow swords and stones. In landing or going out, self-defence
compels one to jump into a buggy or palanquin, as these poor people are
very persevering, being better paid by Griffins, or foreigners, than by
residents.
The Sepoys, or native troops, appear well on parade early in the
morning; they are completely dressed in white drill, and the officers
in red coats and white pantaloons. The Madras Presidency has some
forty-two thousand Sepoys and eight thousand European troops, which
serves to keep all the population quiet between the Bengal and Bombay
Presidencies.
Our steamer is slow, making only eight knots an hour at the top of her
speed. She has just been caught by a typhoon in the China sea, which
has swept away decks, yards, and spars, with a loss of five out of
her six boats, and will have to go into dock at Bombay. Since leaving
the bay of Bengal, and the last of the south-west monsoons, we have
had quiet and beautiful weather, running up the Malabar coast of the
Arabian sea. I will finish this letter in Bombay.