CHAPTER VII.
The morning after our arrival at Kedgeree I arose early, and, on coming on deck, found the weather perfectly calm, and presenting a striking contrast to its appearance on the previous day. A burning Bengal sun, however, shone around in all its glory, and was reflected with painful and dazzling brightness from the now unruffled surface of the Hooghly. Boats, to me of singularly novel and picturesque forms—some thatched, others open, and all with long galley-like prows and sterns—were moving here and there, mingled with market-boats, laden with fruit and vegetables, and light and graceful dingies, or fishing-canoes, floating down with their outspread nets and dusky crews on the gentle undulations of the falling tide. Near us, ships of various descriptions were riding at anchor, from the stately Indiaman of those days, with her double tier of ports, and looking like a seventy-four, to the Arab grab and country-coaster.
This was a day of considerable bustle and excitement. The passengers were looking up their baggage, getting out their letters, or despatching special messengers to their friends in Calcutta. Boats from the presidency were continually arriving alongside, freighted principally with baboos or circars, good-looking fellows for the most part,with huge green or yellow curly-toed shoes, and flowing muslin robes, as light as the gossamer, and white as swans’-down. Some came to secure constituents; others were deputed by merchants or parties interested in the ship or passengers; and not a few keen-witted fellows, like my friend Ramee Sawmee Dabash, were on the look-out for “pigeons.” With all these arrivals, our deck began to assume a very lively and animated appearance.
I could not help being forcibly struck with the marked dissimilarity between the two races, who, here respectively the subjects of a common power, and from the antipodes, were engaged in objects of mutual interest, or busy in the exchange of friendly greetings. There stood the sturdy Englishman, with his ruddy face, iron muscles, and broad shoulders, strong in his straightforward hyperborean honesty; before him, like some delicate spaniel, or Italian greyhound, coaxing a bluff old Jowler of a mastiff, were the wily Asiatics, chattering and salaaming, fearful to offend, their slender and supple limbs all in motion, and supplying by quickness and address the want of energy and boldness.
The family union, which had now for five months so pleasantly subsisted between our party on board, was about to be dissolved, and already were their thoughts and feelings on the wing, impatient for other scenes and objects. The cup of pleasure is seldom unalloyed, and with mine, at that moment, mingled a drop of bitterness, as I thought that an important scene of my life was about to close for ever, and that many of the actors in it, with whom I had so pleasantly “strutted my hour,” I might never see again. To think that we are leaving even an inanimate object for ever is a painful thought, but it acquires almost a solemnity when man, “the mind, the music, breathing from his face,” is the being we are now about to quit. Honest McGuffin, methought, have I heard your broad Scotch for the last time? Grinnerson, my merry wag, will you roast me no more? Gillans, bluntest of seamen, will thy hoarse voice, in the midnightwatch, never again startle my ear, when through the shrouds (rudest of Æolians) the rough winds pipe their wild accompaniment? And, oh! Jemmy Ducks, thou Pariar of theRottenbeam Castle, thou great conservator of chickens, shall I never again see thee scramble over the hen-coops, or be more enlivened with a pleasant vision of thy tarred and ragged breeks?Sic transit gloria mundi!
As a party of us, including the second mate, were chattering and laughing on the deck about noon, our attention was suddenly attracted to a handsome pinnace, with green sides and venetians, and of a light and beautiful rig, gliding down the river, with all sail loosened, which, however, the light winds had barely power to distend. As it approached, we observed an old gentleman, and a numerous group of attendants on the chut or roof. Marpeet immediately observed that we were about to be visited by one of the Calcutta big wigs; and Grinnerson, applying the glass to his eye, exclaimed, after a little reconnoitring and slapping his leg with delight,
“By the piper that played before Moses, if it isn’t that old Tartar, General Capsicum; he’ll keep us all alive if he comes on board.”
The general was seated in an easy chair, smoking a magnificent hooka, the silver chains and other brilliant appendages of which were conspicuous even at a distance. Altogether, with his troop of attendants, he looked not a little like the chief of Loochoo, as depicted in Captain Hall’s voyage to that interesting island. Of the liveried and whiskered group about him, one swung a huge crimson silk punkah, or fan, with a silver handle, the end of which rested on the deck; a second held an umbrella of the same colour over his head; two more worked chowries, or whisks, to keep off the flies; and behind his chair stood his pipeman, or hookhaburdar, a black-bearded fellow, with his arms folded, and looking as grave and solemn as a judge. At the back of all these again, andforming a sort of rear-guard, were a body of mace-bearers and silver-stick men, awaiting the slightest order of the chief. Well, this is something like Eastern magnificence, indeed, thought I—nil desperandum—“Frank Gernon, hold up your head; you may be a nabob yet.”
Upon the arrival of the pinnace within a very short distance of the ship, the old gentleman, assisted by his obsequious attendants, arose from his chair, and moving to the verge of the roof or poop, with a gait almost as unsteady as the toddle of an infant, gave us a full view of about as odd a figure as can well be imagined. In height, he was below the middle size, and as thin and shrivelled as an old baboon, to the physiognomy of which animal his own bore no inconsiderable resemblance; indeed, till I saw him, I never thought much of Lord Monboddo’s theory. He wore a red camlet raggie, or Swiss jacket, with blue collar and facings, which hung in bags about him, and a white waistcoat, wide open, from which a volume of frill protruded. His nether man was encased in a pair of tight nankeens, buttoned at the ancle (a singular perversity common to old gentlemen whose calves have gone to grass), and which exhibited the extraordinary slenderness of his frail supporters in a very striking point of view. A queue (the general being one of the “last of the pigtails”), a round hat of black silk, a good deal battered, with a bullion loop and button, completed the outward appearance of the Bengal veteran, who soon, however, satisfied us that, spite of appearances, he was, as Grinnerson said, a stout-hearted old fellow, with plenty of pluck and mental vigour still about him; one of whom it might be said, that “E’en in his ashes glowed their wonted fires.”
When pretty close, the little old man, from whom a squeaky and faltering treble might have been expected, astonished us by shouting out, in a stentorian voice, and with a tone and accent smacking strongly of the “first gem of the sea,”
“Is that theRottenbame Castle, sur?”
Being answered in the affirmative, he continued, “Is Captain McGuffin on board, sur?”
McGuffin, who by this time had come to the side, replied to this question himself. Taking off his hat, and waving it, he said,
“Hoo air ye, general? I’m glad to see you, sir, luking sae weel. Will you come on board, sir?”
“Hah! McGuffin, is that you? How are you, my good sur?” returned the general, raising his hat, too, with all the dignity of the old school, or of the guardsman at Fontenoy. “Sorry to see you in this ugly pickle, though. Have you got my Cordalia on board?” alluding to his daughter, a widow lady, one of our passengers from Madras, and who, at this instant, having heard of her father’s arrival, rushed to the side, and kissing one hand withempressement, whilst she waved her handkerchief in the other, soon afforded him satisfactory evidence of her existence.
After some little trouble, the pinnace was safely moored alongside, and the old general securely, though with equal difficulty, and a few volleys of abuse to his servants, deposited by instalments on the deck. Here, however, he appeared in some danger of suffocation, from the vigorous embraces of the buxom young widow, who yielding to the impulses of natural feeling, and regardless of standers-by, rushed into his arms, and kissed him with the warmest affection, knocking off his hat by the collision, and exhibiting to our view the generals venerable head, white with the snows of seventy or eighty winters.
Here, then, in the shrivelled old soldier standing before me, I beheld a warrior of the days of Clive, a last representative, probably, of a generation long gone down to the dust, whose thoughts, dress, and manners so essentially differed from our own, and who (all honour to their three-cornered hats and big waistcoats!) had baffled the Indian in the field and the cabinet, and laid the foundation of this proud dominion, on which I was about to set foot. I looked on him with that respect with which we contemplate a grey ruin of other days, with its silent courts, its “banquet-hall deserted,” and all its glorious associations, and which long has withstood the tempests of the world.
General Capsicum on Board the “Rottenbeam Castle.”
General Capsicum on Board the “Rottenbeam Castle.”
General Capsicum on Board the “Rottenbeam Castle.”
After retiring to the cuddy, and some private conversation with his daughter, the general again came on deck, and had a renewed round of handshaking with the captain, and some other of his acquaintance, whom he expressed himself as devilish glad to see in India again, “the best country in the whole world, by all that’s good!” He concluded with a look redolent of gunpowder and hair-triggers, though half jocular, “And where is the man that will say me nay?” It was obvious at a glance the general was what an old Scotch author calls
A fiery Ettercap, a fractious chiel;As hot as ginger and as true as steel;
A fiery Ettercap, a fractious chiel;As hot as ginger and as true as steel;
A fiery Ettercap, a fractious chiel;As hot as ginger and as true as steel;
A fiery Ettercap, a fractious chiel;
As hot as ginger and as true as steel;
with not a little of thatrefined savageismin him, which exalts theduellointo the first accomplishment of a gentleman.
In Colonel Kilbaugh he recognized an old friend and brother campaigner, and right cordial was the greeting between them. A tremendous refighting of battles would then and there have taken place, it was quite clear, had time allowed of it; unless, upon the principle that two negatives make an affirmative, they should have neutralized their kindredfortes. The general, amongst his peculiarities of the old school, swore like a trooper; indeed, so free was his indulgence in that once fashionable, but now, amongst gentlemen, exploded vice, that had he been in England, he would doubtless have been liable to an indictment from the Society for the Suppression of Vice, for profane swearing.
“By G——, you’re looking well, though, Kilbaugh, d——d well, upon my soul; you’ve taken a new laise of your existence since you went home.”
“Why, eh—yes,” said the little colonel, pulling up hiscollar-gills complacently, and looking extremely large for his size, “we are certainly a new man, general; nothing like a few hogsheads of Cheltenham waters for setting a dyspeptic man on his legs again.”
“Indeed, then that’s true; but, Kilbaugh, though you and I have had some rale plissant days together in old times—eh?—you didn’t trouble the water much then by G——, and liked your glass as well as any of us, and (with a palpable wink) that sameminusthe g, too—minusthe g—eh? ha, ha, ha!”
With this, he made a pass at the ex-resident’s ribs with his extended finger, which the other dexterously avoided, though with a complacent chuckle which shewed that he was not displeased at this allusion to his youthful frolics.
“Well,” continued the general, “you’ll put up at my place, and I’ll give you a cast in the pinnace. By-the-bye, you liked a good bottle of beer, Kilbaugh, I remember right well, and just now I can give you one, a rale foamer; got in a splendid batch lately; it is from Bell, and by G—— it bears a bell, too.”
So he rattled on; and the ex-resident having signified his acceptance of the general’s offer, the trio, after a hearty leave-taking, were soon on board the pinnace, and on their way to Calcutta.
This was the first time I had seen the Mohamedan domestics of this part of India, and I was agreeably struck by their handsome and manly appearance, and the becoming costume of those in the old general’s suite. Their turbans, vests, loosepajammasor trousers, andkummerbundsor girdles, set off by their crimson belts and metal badges, and their massive silver batons, gave them a very striking and picturesque appearance, enhanced by luxuriant beards or mustachios, large eyes, and high features.
There are some strange anomalies attendant on the march of civilization, and none more so, perhaps, than the indifference, or rather want of real taste, which nationsin a high state of refinement evince in regard to costume. Whether it is that scientific pursuits, and the busy occupations of the thoughts on matters of high social, moral, political, and commercial interest, leave no time for men to study the graces of attire, or that such a study is really unworthy of, or incompatible with, cultivated minds, or, as the Quakers think, unfavourable to morality, certain it is that the art of decorating the person does not keep pace with other improvements.
Our commander (finding he could not leave Kedgeree till the following morning), Marpeet, Grundy, and I, accepted the obliging invitation of Capt. Grogwell, of theRohomanybarque, country trader, a friend of the captain, to accompany him in his vessel, then under weigh for Calcutta.
“I can give you a glass of grog, gentlemen, and a bit of curry, and there’s my cabin for you to turn into if you should stay with me overnight,” said the frank and good-humoured sailor; “but,” added he, “there’s no time to be lost for those that go, as the tide’s already on the turn.”
A few bags and boxes were soon stowed in Captain Grogwell’s boat, and after many warm adieus from our friends on board, and the expression of mutual hopes that we should meet again in Calcutta, off we pushed for theRohomanybarque.
As we approached her, two or three bronzed faces, surmounted by straw hats, rose above the side, and were directed expectantly towards us, whilst the whistling pipe of the serang, or native boatswain, announced the skipper’s approach alongside. We mounted through a bevy of the sable crew, and soon stood on the deck of the country ship, just arrived from a voyage to the Eastern Islands.
“Welcome on board theRohomany, gentlemen, where I hope you will make yourselves at home and comfortable,” said Captain Grogwell. “My first officer, Mr. Dobbs, gentlemen,” he continued, presentinga tall, brawny, and fine-countenanced man. Mr. Dobbs made his best leg; was glad to see us on board.
The lascars now began to weigh the anchor to a wild and not unmusical chant, with an agreeable chorus ofYa Ullahs!All was soon bustle, the anchor a-peak, and the mates shouting forth their commands in the most extraordinary lingo that ever grated “harsh music” on my ears.
“Trinkum Garvey de man,” said one; “Garvey brass trinkum de man,” roared another; whilst Mr. Dobbs, in a tremendous fury (why I knew not), and stamping like a madman, sung out “Chop and string your goosey, and be d——d to you all.”
These are a few specimens. On hearing the last, I certainly was inclined to think that the death-warrant of one of thosecapitolbirds who feed on our commons, and on whom our commons feed (excuse the double pun), had been pronounced. I wish some Oriental philologist would give us a history of this nautical jargon, which, I take it, is a sort ofolla podridaof Portuguese, Bengalee, and heaven knows what dialects besides—thelingua francaof the Indian seas. On we glided; passed the “silver tree,” a singular vegetable production, composed of brick and mortar; “Diamond Harbour,” another misnomer, but very Golcondahish in the sound; and finally, a stiff wind setting in dead ahead, found it impossible to get round a certain peninsula, sometimes called “Hooghly Point,” but amongst sailors, rejoicing in the less euphonious appellation of “Point Luff and be d——d.” There was no help for it, so down went the anchor, and there seemed every prospect of our having to conjugate the verbennuyertill a fresh flow of tide and shift of wind should enable us to pass this most troublesome part of the river, and the dangerous shoal of the James and Mary. The reader must understand that all this was before the days of steam.
Leaving the white tavern of Fultah, where the Calcuttabon vivanteats mango-fish—the whitebait of India,—we soon passed Budge Budge, the scene of the sailor’s unique exploit—a story too well known, I fancy, to need repetition here—and in a short time after, on turning “Hangman’s Point” (where once stood an outpost of civilization), found ourselves opposite “Garden Reach,” the sylvan vestibule of Calcutta. I have seen few sights in my wanderings more beautiful and imposing than the approach to this Petersburgh of the East, this magnificent capital of our Eastern empire. On the left was the Botanical Garden, with its screen of tall dark cypress trees; on the right, a long succession of beautiful villas, situated amidst verdant lawns and park-like pleasure-grounds, sloping gently down to the water’s edge. Here the eye was caught by some pretty kiosk or summer-house, like thelust-hausof a Dutch retreat, or such as we sometimes see in the stately gardens attached to some mansion of the olden time here at home. There it rested on a ghaut, or flight of steps leading to the water, with urns or balustrades, before which, in the mellowchiar-oscuroof some overhanging banyan-tree, lay moored the elegant covered pleasure-boat of the owner—hurrying through the grounds, a palankeen would appear, with its scampering bevy of attendant bearers and running peons, the huge red chattah or umbrella to shield the master from the sun, when making hisexitsandentrées, bobbing up and down—standing before many a porticoed mansion, gigs, or other equipages would appear in waiting, to take the Sahibs to town, or on their rounds of morning visits, and mingling in pleasing contrast with the Europeanized character of these beautiful domains, the lofty palm or kujjoor would here and there raise its head, the perch of a knot of solemn vultures; or parting the grounds one from another, lofty fences of the graceful and pensile bamboo, might be seen drooping in rich clusters, like plumes of ostrich feathers. Numerous boats glided up and down the river, with here and there a vessel likeour own, obeying the whirling impulses of the tide, and rapidly approaching its destination—all, in fact, bespoke the close vicinity of a great capital.
The reach nearly past, the proud citadel of Fort William broke in view, its grinning batteries opening upon us, one after the other, and affording a lively idea of the sort of gauntlet which an enemy might reasonably expect, should one sufficiently hardy ever dare to confront them. Here and there on the long-extended rampart, the sentry “walked his lonely round,” his musket and bayonet gleaming brightly in the noontide rays, whilst crowds of natives, passing palankeens, and stately adjutant birds stalking “in grey attire” on the banks, gave life and animation to the scene—a few minutes more, and a long forest of shipping, with masses and lines of stately mansions reposing under the still calm sky, like some Grecian capital of old, bespoke the City of Palaces, the proud metropolis of British India.
Here was a sight at which a Briton might honestly exult, and, young as I was, I gazed with pride on this magnificent creation of my country’s civilization and power—the point from which she governs the countless millions of the dependent Empire which Providence, for the wisest of purposes, has submitted to her benignant sway. Old England! mighty heart! long may thy vigorous pulsations be thus felt to the utmost bounds of our earth! Nations, like individuals, have their stages of existence—their infancy, their manhood, and their decline; some fall into premature decrepitude and dissolution, and leave but the memory of evil deeds behind them; whilst others sink in glorious maturity, under the weight of years and honours, leaving the fruits of a well-spent life behind them, to be embalmed for ever in the hearts of a grateful posterity. May such be thy lot, O my country!