THE SURF AT MADRAS.
From Ceylon we proceeded after a time to Madras roads, where we soon
became well acquainted with all the outs and ins of the celebrated
surf of that place. This surf, after all, is not really higher than
many which one meets with in other countries; but certainly it is the
highest and most troublesome which exists as a permanent obstruction
in front of a great commercial city. The ingenuity and perseverance of
man, however, have gone far to surmount this difficulty; and now the
passage to and from the beach at Madras offers hardly any serious
interruption to the intercourse. Still, it is by no means an agreeable
operation to pass through the surf under any circumstances; and
occasionally, during the north-east monsoon, it is attended with some
danger. For the first two or three times, I remember thinking it very
good sport to cross the surf, and sympathised but little with the
anxious expressions of some older hands who accompanied me. The boat,
the boatmen, their curious oars, the strange noises they made, and the
attendant catamarans to pick up the passengers if the boat upsets,
being all new to my eyes, and particularly odd in themselves, so
strongly engaged my attention, that I had no leisure to think of the
danger till the boat was cast violently on the beach. The very first
time I landed, the whole party were pitched out heels over head on the
shore. I thought it a mighty odd way of landing; but supposing it to
be all regular and proper, I scrambled up the wet sand, and merely
muttered,--"What the devil will the fellows do next?"
The surf at Madras consists of two distinct lines of breakers on the
beach, running parallel to each other and to the shore. These foaming
ridges are caused by a succession of waves curling over and breaking
upon bars or banks, formed probably by the reflux action of the sea
carrying the sand outwards. The surf itself, unquestionably, owes its
origin to the long sand of the ocean-swell coming across the Bay of
Bengal, a sweep of nearly five hundred miles, from the coasts of
Arracan, the Malay peninsula, and the island of Sumatra. This huge
swell is scarcely perceptible in the fathomless Indian sea; but when
the mighty oscillation reaches the shelving shores of Coromandel, its
vibrations are checked by the bottom. The mass of waters, which up to
this point had merely sunk and risen, that is, vibrated without any
real progressive motion, is then driven forwards to the land, where,
from the increasing shallowness, it finds less and less room for its
"wild waves' play," and finally rises above the general level of the
sea in threatening ridges. I know few things more alarming to nautical
nerves than the sudden and mysterious "lift of the swell," which
hurries a ship upwards when she has chanced to get too near the
shore, and when, in consequence of the deadness of the calm, she can
make no way to seaward, but is gradually hove nearer and nearer to the
roaring surge.
At last, when the great ocean-wave approaches the beach, and the depth
of water is much diminished, the velocity of so vast a mass sweeping
along the bottom, though greatly accelerated, becomes inadequate to
fulfil the conditions of the oscillation, and it has no resource but
to curl into a high and toppling wave. So that this moving ridge of
waters, after careering forwards with a front high in proportion to
the impulse behind, and for a length of time regulated by the degree
of abruptness in the rise of the shore, at last dashes its monstrous
head with a noise extremely like thunder along the endless coast.
Often, indeed, when on shore at Madras, have I lain in bed awake, with
open windows, for hours together, listening, at the distance of many a
league, to the sound of these waves, and almost fancying I could still
feel the tremour of the ground, always distinctly perceptible near the
beach. When the distance is great, and the actual moment at which the
sea breaks ceases to be distinguishable, and when a long range of
coast is within hearing, the unceasing roar of the surf in a serene
night, heard over the level plains of the Carnatic shore, is
wonderfully interesting.
Any attempt to pass the surf in an ordinary boat is seldom thought of.
I remember hearing of a naval officer who crossed once in his
jolly-boat in safety, but on a second trial he was swamped, and both
he and his crew well-nigh drowned. The masullah boats of the country
resemble nothing to be seen elsewhere. They have flat bottoms,
perpendicular sides, and abruptly pointed ends, being twelve or
fourteen feet long by five or six broad, and four or five feet high.
Not a single nail enters into their construction, all the planks being
held together by cords or lacings. Along the planks, at a short
distance from the edge, are bored a set of holes, through which the
lacing or cord is to pass. A layer of cotton is then interposed
between the planks, and along the seam is laid a flat narrow strip of
a fibry and tough kind of wood. The cord is next rove through the
holes and passed over the strip, so that when it is pulled tight the
planks are not only drawn into as close contact as the interposed
cotton will allow of, but the long strip is pressed against the seam
so effectually as to exclude the water. The wood of which these boats
are constructed is so elastic and tough, that when they take the
ground, either by accident or in regular course of service, the part
which touches yields to the pressure without breaking, and bulges
inwards almost as readily as if it were made of shoe-leather. Under
similar circumstances, an ordinary boat, fitted with a keel, timbers,
and planks nailed together, not being pliable, would be shivered to
pieces.
At the after or sternmost end a sort of high poop-deck passes from
side to side, on which the steersman takes his post. He holds in his
hand an oar or paddle, which consists of a pole ten or twelve feet
long, carrying at its extremity a circular disc of wood about a foot
or a foot and a-half in diameter. The oars used by the six hands who
pull the masullah boat are similar to that held by the steersman, who
is always a person of long experience and known skill, as well as
courage and coolness--qualities indispensable to the safety of the
passage when the surf is high. The rowers sit upon high thwarts and
their oars are held by grummets, or rings made of rope, to pins
inserted in the gunwale, so that they can be let go and resumed at
pleasure, without risk of being lost. The passengers, wretched
victims! seat themselves on a cross bench about a foot lower than the
seats of the rowers, and close in front of the raised poop or
steersman's deck, which is nearly on a level with the gunwale.
The whole process of landing, from the moment of leaving the ship till
you feel yourself safe on the crown of the beach is as disagreeable as
can be; and I can only say for myself that every time I crossed the
surf it rose in my respect. At the eighth or tenth transit I began
really to feel uncomfortable; at the twentieth I felt considerable
apprehension of being well ducked; and at about the thirtieth time of
crossing, I almost fancied there was but little chance of escaping a
watery grave, with sharks for sextons, and the wild surf for a dirge!
The truth is that at each successive time of passing this formidable
barrier of surf we become better and better acquainted with the
dangers and possibilities of accidents.
However, as all persons intending to go ashore at Madras must pass
through the surf, they step with what courage they can muster into
their boat alongside the ship, anchored in the roads a couple of miles
off, in consequence of the water being too shallow for large vessels.
The boat then shoves off, and rows to the "back of the surf," where it
is usual to let go a grapnel, or to lie on the oars till the masullah
boat comes out. The back of the surf is that part of the roadstead
lying immediately beyond the place where the first indication is given
of the tendency in the swell to rise into a wave; and no boat not
expressly fitted for the purpose ever goes nearer to the shore, but
lies off till the "bar-boat" makes her way through the surf, and lays
herself alongside the ship's boat. A scrambling kind of boarding
operation now takes place, to the last degree inconvenient to ladies
and other shore-going persons not accustomed to climbing. As the
gunwale of the masullah boat rises three or four feet above the water,
the step is a long and troublesome one to make, even by those who are
not encumbered with petticoats--those sad impediments to
locomotion--devised by the men, as I heard a Chinaman remark,
expressly to check the rambling propensities of the softer sex, always
too prone, he alleged, to yield to wandering impulses without such
encumbrances! I know to my cost, from many a broken shin, that even
gentlemen bred afloat may contrive to slip in removing from one boat
to the other, especially if the breeze be fresh, and there be what
mariners call a "bubble of a sea." In a little while, however, all the
party are tumbled, or hoisted into the masullah boat, where they seat
themselves on the cross-bench, marvellously like so many culprits on a
hurdle on their way to execution! Ahead of them roars and boils a
furious ridge of terrific breakers, while close at their ears behind,
stamps and bawls, or rather yells, the steersman, who takes this
method of communicating his wishes to his fellow-boatmen. The
steersman stands on his poop, or quarter-deck, just behind the
miserable passengers, whose heads reach not quite so high as his
knees. His oar rests in a crutch on the top of the stern-post, and not
only serves as a rudder, but gives him the power to slew or twist the
boat round with considerable rapidity, when aided by the efforts of
the rowers. It is necessary for the steersman to wait for a favourable
moment to enter the surf, otherwise the chances are that the boat will
be upset, in the manner I shall describe presently. People are
frequently kept waiting in this way for ten or twenty minutes, at the
back of the surf, before a proper opportunity presents itself.
During all this while, the experienced eye of the veteran skipper
abaft glances backwards and forwards from the swell rolling in from
the open sea, to the surf which is breaking close to him. From time to
time he utters a half word to his crew, with that kind of faint
interrogative tone in which a commanding-officer indulges when he is
sure of acquiescence on the part of those under him, and is careless
whether they answer or not. In general, however, he remains quite
silent during this first stage of the passage, as do also the rowers,
who either rest the paddles horizontally, or allow their circular
blades to float on the surface of the water. Meanwhile the boat rolls
from side to side, or is heaved smartly upwards as the swell, just on
the eve of breaking, lifts her into the air, and then drops her again
into the hollow with the most sea-sickening velocity. I should state,
that, during this wofully unpleasant interval, the masullah boat is
placed sideways to the line of surf, parallel to the shore, and, of
course, exactly in the trough of the sea.
I have often watched with the closest attention to discover what were
the indications by which these experienced boatmen inferred that the
true moment was arrived when it was safe to enter the surf, but I
never could make out enough to be of much professional utility. It was
clear, indeed, that the proper instant for making the grand push
occurred when one of the highest waves was about to break--for the
greater the dash, the greater the lull after it. But how these fellows
managed to discover, beforehand, that the wave, upon the back of
which they chose to ride in, was of that exact description, I could
never discover. On the approach of a swell which he knows will answer
his purpose, the steersman, suddenly changing his quiet and almost
contemplative air for a look of intense anxiety, grasps his oar with
double firmness, and exerting his utmost strength of muscle, forces
the boat's stern round, so that her head may point to the shore. At
the same time he urges his crew to exert themselves, partly by violent
stampings with his feet, partly by loud and vehement exhortations, and
partly by a succession of horrid yells, in which the sounds Yarry!
Yarry!! Yarry!!! predominate--indicating to the ears of a stranger the
very reverse of self-confidence, and filling the soul of a nervous
passenger with infinite alarm.
Those fearful noises are loudly re-echoed by all the other men, who
strain themselves so vigorously at the oars, that the boat, flying
forwards, almost keeps way with the wave, on the back of which it is
the object of the steersman to keep her. As she is swept impetuously
towards the bar, a person seated in the boat can distinctly feel the
sea under him gradually rising under a sheer wave, and lifting the
boat up--and up--and up, in a manner exceedingly startling. At length
the ridge, near the summit of which the boat is placed, begins to
curl, and its edge just breaks into a line of white fringe along the
upper edge of the perpendicular face presented to the shore, towards
which it is advancing with vast rapidity. The grand object of the
boatmen now appears to consist in maintaining their position, not on
the very crown of the wave, but a little further to seaward, down the
slope, so as to ride upon its shoulders, as it were. The importance of
this precaution becomes apparent, when the curling surge, no longer
able to maintain its elevation, is dashed furiously forwards, and
dispersed into an immense sheet of foam, broken by innumerable eddies
and whirlpools, into a confused sea of irregular waves rushing
tumultuously together, and casting the spray high into the air by
impinging one against the other. This furious turmoil often whirls the
masullah boat round and round, in spite of the despairing outcries of
the steersman, and the redoubled exertions of his screaming crew, half
of whom back their oars, while the other half tug away in vain
endeavours to keep her head in the right direction.
I have endeavoured to describe the correct and safe method of riding
over the surf on the outer bar upon the back of the wave, a feat in
all conscience sufficiently ticklish; but woe betide the poor masullah
boat which shall be a little too far in advance of her proper place,
so that, when the wave curls over and breaks, she may be pitched head
foremost over the brink of the watery precipice, and strikes her nose
on the sandbank. Even then, if there happen, by good luck, to be depth
of water over the bar sufficient to float her, she may still escape;
but, should the sand be left bare, or nearly so, as happens sometimes,
the boat is almost sure to strike, if, instead of keeping on the back
or shoulder of the wave, she incautiously precedes it. In that unhappy
case she is instantly tumbled forwards, heels over head, while the
crew and passengers are sent sprawling amongst the foam.
Between the sharks and the catamaran men a race then takes place--the
one to save, the other to destroy--the very Brahmas and Shivas of the
surf! These accidents, however, are so very rare, that during all the
time I was in India I never witnessed one.
There is still a second surf to pass, which breaks on the inner bar,
about forty or fifty yards nearer to the shore. The boatmen try to
cross this, and to approach so near the beach, that, when the next
wave breaks, they shall be so far ahead of it that it may not dash
into the boat and swamp her, and yet not so far out as to prevent
their profiting by its impulse to drive them up the steep face of sand
forming the long-wished-for shore. The rapidity with which the
masullah boat is at last cast on the beach is sometimes quite fearful,
and the moment she thumps on the ground, as the wave recedes, most
startling. I have seen persons pitched completely off their seats, and
more than once I have myself been fairly turned over with all the
party, like a parcel of fish cast out of a basket! In general, no such
untoward events take place, and the boat at length rests on the sand,
with her stern to the sea. But as yet she is by no means far enough up
the beach to enable the passengers to get out with comfort or safety.
Before the next wave breaks, the bow and sides of the boat have been
seized by numbers of the natives on the shore, who greatly assist the
impulse when the wave comes, both by keeping her in a straight course,
and likewise by preventing her upsetting. These last stages of the
process are very disagreeable, for every time the surf reaches the
boat, it raises her up and lets her fall again, with a violent jerk.
When at last she is high enough to remain beyond the wash of the surf,
you either jump out, or more frequently descend by means of a ladder,
as you would get off the top of a stage-coach; and, turning about, you
look with astonishment at what you have gone through, and thank Heaven
you are safe!
The return passage from the shore to a ship, in a masullah boat, is
more tedious, but less dangerous, than the process of landing. This
difference will easily be understood, when it is recollected that in
one case the boat is carried impetuously forward by the waves, and
that all power of retarding her progress on the part of the boatmen
ceases after a particular moment. In going from the shore, however,
the boat is kept continually under management, and the talents and
experience of the steersman regulate the affair throughout. He
watches, just inside the surf, till a smooth moment occurs, generally
after a high sea has broken, and then he endeavours, by great
exertions, to avail himself of the moment of comparative tranquillity
which follows, to force his way across the bar before another sea
comes. If he detects, as he is supposed to have it always in his power
to do, that another sea is on the rise, which will, in all
probability, curl up and break over him before he can row over its
crest and slide down its back, his duty is, to order his men to back
their oars with their utmost speed and strength. This retrograde
movement withdraws her from the blow, or, at all events, allows the
wave to strike her with diminished violence at the safest point, and
in water of sufficient depth to prevent the boat taking the ground
injuriously, to the risk of her being turned topsy-turvy. I have, in
fact, often been in these masullah boats when they have struck
violently on the bar, and have seen their flat and elastic bottoms
bulge inwards in the most alarming manner, but I never saw any of the
planks break or the seams open so as to admit the water.
It is very interesting to watch the progress of those honest catamaran
fellows, who live almost entirely in the surf, and who, independently
of their chief purpose of attending the masullah boats, are much
employed as messengers to the ships in the roads, even in the worst
weather. I remember one day being sent with a note for the commanding
officer of the flag-ship, which Sir Samuel Hood was very desirous
should be sent on board; but as the weather was too tempestuous to
allow even a masullah boat to pass the surf, I was obliged to give it
to a catamaran man. The poor fellow drew off his head a small
skull-cap, made apparently of some kind of skin, or oil-cloth, or
bladder, and having deposited his despatches therein, proceeded to
execute his task.
We really thought, at first, that our messenger must have been drowned
even in crossing the inner bar, for we well-nigh lost sight of him in
the hissing yeast of waves in which he and his catamaran appeared only
at intervals, tossing about like a cork. But by far the most difficult
part of his task remained after he had reached the comparatively
smooth space between the two lines of surf, where we could observe him
paddling to and fro as if in search of an opening in the moving wall
of water raging between him and the roadstead. He was watching for a
favourable moment, when, after the dash of some high wave, he might
hope to make good his transit in safety.
After allowing a great many seas to break before he attempted to cross
the outer bar, he at length seized the proper moment, and turning his
little bark to seaward, paddled out as fast as he could. Just as the
gallant fellow, however, reached the shallowest part of the bar, and
we fancied him safely across, a huge wave, which had risen with
unusual quickness, elevated its foaming crest right before him,
curling upwards many feet higher than his shoulders. In a moment he
cast away his paddle, and leaping on his feet, he stood erect on his
catamaran, watching with a bold front the advancing bank of water. He
kept his position, quite undaunted, till the steep face of the breaker
came within a couple of yards of him, and then leaping head foremost,
he pierced the wave in a horizontal direction with the agility and
confidence of a dolphin. We had scarcely lost sight of his feet, as he
shot through the heart of the wave, when such a dash took place as
must have crushed him to pieces had he stuck by his catamaran, which
was whisked instantly afterwards, by a kind of somerset, completely
out of the water by its rebounding off the sandbank. On casting our
eyes beyond the surf, we felt much relieved by seeing our shipwrecked
friend merrily dancing on the waves at the back of the surf, leaping
more than breast-high above the surface, and looking in all
directions, first for his paddle, and then for his catamaran. Having
recovered his oar, he next swam, as he best could, through the broken
surf to his raft, mounted it like a hero, and once more addressed
himself to his task.
By this time, as the current always runs fast along the shore, he had
drifted several hundred yards to the northward farther from his point.
At the second attempt to penetrate the surf, he seemed to have made a
small miscalculation, for the sea broke so very nearly over him,
before he had time to quit his catamaran and dive into still water,
that we thought he must certainly have been drowned. Not a whit,
however, did he appear to have suffered, for we soon saw him again
swimming to his rude vessel. Many times in succession was he thus
washed off and sent whirling towards the beach, and as often obliged
to dive head foremost through the waves. But at last, after very
nearly an hour of incessant struggling, and the loss of more than a
mile of distance, he succeeded, for the first time, in reaching the
back of the surf, without having parted company either with his paddle
or with his catamaran. After this it became all plain sailing; he soon
paddled off to the Roads, and placed the Admiral's letter in the first
lieutenant's hands as dry as if it had been borne in a despatch-box
across the court-yard of the Admiralty.
I remember one day, when on board the Minden, receiving a note from
the shore by a catamaran lad, whom I told to wait for an answer. Upon
this he asked for a rope, with which, as soon as it was given him, he
made his little vessel fast, and lay down to sleep in the full blaze
of a July sun. One of his arms and one of his feet hung in the water,
though a dozen sharks had been seen cruising round the ship. A tacit
contract, indeed, appears to exist between the sharks and these
people, for I never saw, nor can I remember ever having heard of any
injury done by one to the other. By the time my answer was written,
the sun had dried up the spray on the poor fellow's body, leaving such
a coating of salt, that he looked as if he had been dusted with flour.
A few fanams--a small copper coin--were all his charge, and three or
four broken biscuits in addition sent him away the happiest of
mortals.
It is matter of considerable surprise to every one who has seen how
well the chain-pier at Brighton stands the worst weather, that no
similar work has been devised at Madras. The water is shallow, the
surf does not extend very far from the beach, and there seems really
no reason why a chain-pier should not be erected, which might answer
not only for the accommodation of passengers, but for the transit of
goods to and from the shore.