CHAPTER XIV.

“LEAVE OF ABSENCE.”

“There is a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them how we will.”

The selection of the route narrowed itself to that of “Hobson’s choice”; for the embers of the Mutiny were still smouldering in various quarters, where the roads were consequently unsafe. I was therefore compelled to reach the sea by river, and was the more ready to adopt this course as an old friend and his wife were going as far as Moulmein.

My antipathy to the country was by this time as deep-rooted as the lilac crocus in autumn, and has never since relaxed its hold. I felt I must leave it at any cost, while the thought of ever returning weighed upon me like a day- and night-mare.

The India of the past was irretrievably blotted out by the Mutiny; henceforth no dependence could be placed on anything; there was no safe anchorage, all was adrift.

The pack was always being shuffled; pay, rank, nomenclature, uniform and precedence were distributed _seriatim_, each deal being declared a false one.

Of that huge pudding, made up of England’s possessions, our Indian Empire certainly contains some of the plums; and young men are naturally not backward at competing for them. What is to be the end of all this feverish competition I do not care to think, for these are congested days, and, for want of a comprehensive scheme of emigration, we at home are striving to make a pint hold a quart.

With extended emigration, smaller holdings at home, and a tariff more equitable to our own producers and less so to foreigners, something might possibly be done to allay the sufferings of mankind.

It was refreshing to hear the sound of the paddle-wheels, and to find ourselves moving rapidly with the Gangetic stream, which was, as usual, flowing swiftly past before the end of the monsoon. We needed this help, for there were several hundred miles between us and the sea, which we could traverse only by day.

Pleasant as was the sensation of leaving the country, we were not a merry party by any means; some were leaving behind those who had been very dear to them, while others were hard and fast in the dread clutches of disease; and the prospects of nearly all were utterly ruined.

Lower down, we had to run the gauntlet of a stronghold still in the hands of the rebels, who might fire into us; and the consequences of a round shot striking the ship might be undeniably unpleasant. But we steamed past “danger point” at a great pace, without a sign of molestation, never dreaming in our fancied security that a far greater danger was lurking near us, in the shape of a plot to destroy the vessel, fostered by treason on board, which was only frustrated by the captain’s promptness.

The next day brought us alongside the jetty of what I remembered as one of our liveliest stations; in the old days it contained a European regiment and several native ones. I took the opportunity of going ashore; turning to the right along the main road, I approached the European quarters on the one side and the bungalows on the other; but all was forlorn and forsaken, a sad contrast to the gay scene of eighteen months ago.

The scene was depressing in the extreme, and carried my thoughts back to the many old friends who had recently gone to their account. I was only too glad to get on board again; and my thoughts, as I sat there on deck, were not of a rosy hue.

The events of the past two years seemed as a dream; perpetually on the move by land and water, exposed to all manner of dangers; once a prisoner, deprived alike of luxuries and necessaries—all this was enough to make one recoil. But the rope which bound me to the country was a strong one, and the only way I could see of cutting it would have been a leap from the frying-pan into the fire.

Moreover, I was infinitely poorer than when I first came to the country. With the exception of a scanty wardrobe, everything I possessed—house, furniture, books, plate—had been ruthlessly swept away in the Mutiny; and there were souvenirs of the past which no money could replace.

Nothing of moment occurred till we were nearing the end of our journey; when the aforementioned plot to run the vessel ashore at a very dangerous spot came to the knowledge of the captain, who immediately took the helm himself, after the steersman proper had been duly placed in irons. He afterwards confessed, and was handed over to the civil authorities.

If anything was wanting to complete the prevalent gloom, it was furnished by the death of a passenger shortly before reaching Calcutta. In the very early hours of the next morning, my friend and myself saw him consigned to that capacious repository, mother earth.

When the rising sun had dispersed the heavy pall of vapours, the City of Palaces was bad enough in those days; but words would fail to describe the sickening effluvia that prevailed in the early morning. Years after, I recognized the same at Naples!

On this occasion—I believe I have already mentioned the episode—I got a double dose of it, for I mistook the hour, and consequently arrived much too soon.

The _rendezvous_ was in the immediate vicinity of that filthy river, the Hooghly, on whose turbid bosom floated various carcases in every stage of decomposition; crows perched on the putrid remains of defunct Hindoos, digging their beaks into the more tender corners; while some of the bodies became entangled in ships’ cables, and not a few were washed ashore on to the black ooze that covered the banks. But for the intervention of tobacco, I should have been poisoned. Courtesy has compelled me to give Calcutta its popular title; but the “City of Sepulchres” would have been far more appropriate.

The somewhat ambitious plan which I now had in view was to visit the various places of interest on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal as low as Singapore; then to cross to Ceylon, and thence to Madras and the far-famed Neilgherry Hills, and, lastly, back to—purgatory! Man can, however, but propose; and I was doomed to accomplish not more than one-third of the distance. The ebb had evidently set against me, and seemed inclined to have a long innings. It is hard work pulling against it year after year; the eternal fitness of things seems deranged; and but for the hope which “springs eternal,” how many more would give up the struggle!

But even here the wind was somewhat tempered to the fleeced human animal, for I started in ignorance, and a measure of compensation was vouchsafed me, as much, I suppose, as I deserved.

Well-remembered places hove in sight as we steamed down the river at a rapid pace and once more imbibed a draught of sea-air. The bay, although quieting down after the storms of the monsoon, was still much too lively for indifferent sailors, few of whom put in any appearance on deck, and fewer still at the festive cuddy.

The first port we touched at was Akyab, celebrated for its capacious harbour and extensive rice-fields. Backed as it is by hills of considerable altitude, which were clothed at this season in their richest verdure, the approach to the port was exceedingly picturesque, and the effects of the alternating lights were particularly beautiful as the clouds passed across the sun, and a hill enveloped in the gloomiest shade would of a sudden burst into a splendour of emerald green. Further down, the hills abutted on the sea, which broke against them with great force, displaying thereby a line of foam of terrible import to any vessel that should be unfortunate enough to get stranded there.

The harbour, which would contain several European fleets combined, is approached by a deep, yet narrow entrance between two perpendicular rocks, necessitating cautious steering by steam, and still more careful handling of a vessel under canvas. This passed, it suddenly expands into a sort of lake; on a very small scale, Lulworth Cove on the Dorset coast, between Bournemouth and Weymouth, somewhat reminds me of it.

The bungalows, each surrounded by its garden, were arranged from the rock along the shore, and the plantations were at the zenith of their beauty. There were but few vessels riding in the harbour, which would, however, ere long, be crowded by the vessels that convey thousands of tons of rice to all parts of the world.

Some of the residents showed us over the place as far as that part of the promontory known as “Scandal Point,” from its being the spot most in favour with the residents, who would assemble there of an evening to enjoy the breeze and a cigar, and gossip about things in general. They seemed for the most part bright and cheerful; and in spite of their isolation, their existence amid such surroundings, with good shooting in the neighbourhood and good fishing in the harbour, must have been tolerable.

Passing Kyouk-Phyao and several other places, we came to a small island not far from the mainland, inside which our adventurous captain had a mind to take the vessel. Although this was not the orthodox course, and attended, moreover, by considerable risk, we had unlimited faith in our navigator, and were consequently pleased with the idea.

The venture proved more arduous than he had anticipated, necessitating the utmost caution and constant heaving of the lead. The water was so clear that I could in many places see the rocks and seaweed, among which great fish were darting in the utmost consternation at the appearance of such a leviathan.

In consequence of the many inevitable turns and twists, our progress was of the slowest. In some places we were almost close enough to have leapt ashore, if so minded; and to any one watching from the bows, and forgetting the pranks played by refraction, it seemed as if we must strike the rocks every moment. The island, which presented but a tangled mass of vegetation, the abode of birds above and reptiles below, was undeniably pretty; not sufficiently so, however, to risk a steamer, and we were not sorry when we once more emerged into deep water.

The idea of thus going out of our way and courting danger emanated from the captain, a man of great determination and courage, who, being fearless at sea himself, never bestowed much consideration in this respect upon the “landlubbers” entrusted to his care, though his kindness and attention in everything else were unequalled.

This reliance on his own judgment was unbounded, too much so indeed to the shipowners’ way of thinking; and for the many years during which he commanded certain sailing-vessels in which speed was essential, he maintained the reputation of being the most “carrying on” man in the service; but the cost of wear and tear of spars and other paraphernalia must have been enormous.

Some time after leaving the island we steamed up the Irrawaddy, and I again beheld the town of Rangoon, which, since the time when I had landed there fresh from England six years previously, had grown beyond all recognition. An embankment had sprung up along the face of the river, behind which were substantial buildings of all kinds—residences, banks, warehouses, every sign, in short, of brisk trade and increasing prosperity.

I at once went ashore, anxious to see if anything remained of the old stockade and the old quarters; alas! a severe epidemic of cholera was at its height, and we were not permitted to penetrate further than the frontage of the river.

I had, however, the unexpected pleasure of shaking hands with the Commissioner, and should have dined with him, but for the fear of carrying infection on board. He was but little altered; the same winning smile and the same drawn pale face as of yore.

Sitting on deck that evening and listening to the ripple of the water as it flowed by us, I could not help wondering how it would have fared with me, but for that fever, which drove me from the country. I should without a doubt have possessed a long array of figures denoting rupees at my banker’s, whereas I could now muster but my pay; I should also have been spared the losses and miseries of the mutiny, and separation from a wife, but two months after marriage, on whose account I had to borrow money, that I might keep her comfortably at home until the country had settled down again. In all probability I should even now have been busy in the very place I was now gazing on in the pale light of a fitful moon, and should at any rate have been in a position to retire many years before I actually did, from a land in which I could no longer take the slightest interest. The light had become feeble in the extreme; and a mocking fate has ever laughed at my frantic efforts to make it flare up again. One by one, I am laying my darlings in the cold earth; had I remained, a mound of earth would have sufficed to cover my own remains; and, as far as this life is concerned, that might have been for the best!

The event of that dire scourge augured unfavourably for the sanitary arrangements of the place, or for the result of interfering with a virgin soil hitherto covered with vegetation. During my two years of knocking about in the country, I had to deal with plenty of fever and dysentery, but not a single case of cholera ever came under my notice, either in natives—Burmese, Madrassees, Punjaubees, or any other -ees—or among the Europeans. The Burmese left sanitation to nature; but then they were unquestionably stronger than any other race that ever came within my experience; enjoying singular freedom from deformities, blemishes and malignant growths, and more than the average immunity from contagious diseases, at all events until the conquerors mixed with them.

Not very long ago, we had to grapple with these hydra-headed monsters; but before we could do more than scotch the snake, the Act was repealed. The medical profession stood aghast at such puerile sentimentality being allowed to guide our legislation, in which we are ever apt to “strain at gnats and swallow camels.”

But they raised their voices in vain; and the dire results attending such a course are even yet undescribable.

Except for the landing of a few passengers, a fairly strict quarantine was maintained, and we steamed away early the following morning, bound for Moulmein, an important station some way up the Salween, almost due east of Rangoon, and across the Gulf of Martaban.

I had calculated on transferring myself at this point to another steamer trading to Penang and Singapore; and was therefore glad that we arrived a few days before her date of departure, as I should thereby be enabled to see something of the place in the interval. In due course we reached the mouth of the river, indicated by a lighthouse perched on a rock to starboard. From some peculiar conformation of the land, its waters are navigable for vessels of large burden at any season of the year, while its mouth is free from anything in the shape of a bar. Though deep, it is very narrow; and its water was wonderfully clear for that of a tropical river at the close of the monsoon, when thousands of tons of earth are generally being carried to the sea.

I mused over the likeliest reason for this exception, and was not long in thinking of the teak forests, with which the country is covered.

The rainfall averages rather more than 120 inches in these latitudes, and even this sheet of water cannot wash down the soil in any appreciable quantity, for the leaves break its fall, and the earth is bound together by countless roots.

When we were about halfway between the mouth of the Salween and Moulmein, we made out the smoke of a steamer coming down at a considerable pace. The captain, having scanned the approaching craft with his glass, coolly informed me that it was the boat by which I intended to reach Singapore. I rushed below to gather up my traps; and by the time I was once more on deck, we were abreast of the new comer; an active interchange of signals was going on, and the boat in which I was to be conveyed was about to be lowered. Then ensued an ominous silence, on which the captain came to me with the pleasing information that she was bound for Calcutta “for repairs”! A tale is told of a criminal being led to execution and meeting an unattractive female on the way to the gallows. He is offered life and liberty, on condition that he marries her at once; but one look at her face is enough, and the wretched man, covering his face with his hands, implores his gaoler to “drive on!” and get the worst over.

No; I had safely turned my back on Calcutta, and I was not minded to return there just yet. Still, it was a blow from which I recoiled; and, thanking the captain for his trouble, I retired to chew the cud of this last stroke of ill-luck.

Stranded, I told myself, and not one-fourth of the intended trip accomplished! The relentless ebb tide was evidently running dead against me, implacable at any price.

Thanks to the elasticity of my nature, I did not long remain in low spirits; what had happened was beyond my control, but as brooding would not mend matters one iota, I resolved to make the best I could of this unexpected _contretemps_. No doubt I entered the “Cave of Despair,” sat down there and discharged a large quantity of pent-up steam; but I blew it off quickly, and not, as some prefer, in tiny intermittent jets. There are in fact periods in the lives of most of us, when the use of a safety valve becomes absolutely necessary; and I soon cooled down to the resolution, that my only course would be to start afresh and try the Western coast, since the Eastern had proved so treacherous and unreliable. The vessel would remain a week or ten days, sufficient, if properly utilized, for hunting down all the “lions” of the place.

My one difficulty, which had reference to a shakedown, was soon solved by my friend, who promised to get me an invitation, at all events until I could find suitable quarters.

And now I came out of the cave altogether. He was as good as his word, and I soon received an invitation, which was—need I add?—accepted. Englishmen, who never visited the India of yore, are unacquainted with the true meaning of the word “hospitality.” The very fact of being able to entertain a traveller with the best the house could produce, seemed to afford positive, undisguised pleasure. There was a heartiness about it unknown at home, where, what with the coldness of our climate and the still greater frigidity of our natures, the practice is not to accept hospitality unless in a position to return it.

Around the fascinating custom in the East, that blessed alike the giver and the recipient, there still lingers a halo of light in my recollection, standing out in bold relief from the wreck which was soon to follow.

The rapid spread of railroads, main trunks and ramifications, naturally lessened the opportunities for exercising such kindly sympathy, for the increase of hotels and refreshment rooms was simultaneous.

I once occupied a bungalow close to the main road, and travellers pulled up at it as a matter of course, as readily indeed as if there had been a signboard over the door. The sheep and poultry, too, may have lent the scene the additional charm of domesticity; for, besides having charge of the Gynee (small oxen) Clubs, I had pigs, fowls, ducks and geese of my own, and cultivated moreover every foot of land around my house.

After a short row, followed by a still shorter drive, I found myself installed in a very comfortable house; and as my advent was unexpected, I had to be shunted to a corner, a very comfortable one, however, on which my hostess had evidently expended an amount of taste and ingenuity. Two things only interfered with my night’s rest; the one consisting in a large and repulsive lizard crawling round my pillow.

It was quite harmless, no doubt, but it was the extraordinary size of the creature—it resembled a young alligator—that attracted my attention, and made me hope that it too would go to rest as soon as the light was out.

The other drawback to sleep was the absence of the thud of the steamer; and the perfect stillness reigning around positively kept me awake—such creatures are we of habit.