Due West: or, Round the World in Ten Months

A peculiar boat is also used between the wharves and the shipping, which come to anchor some distance off shore, landing passengers or taking them from the shore to the ship. Even where these boats are used, partially protected by the half-completed breakwater, no common boat would answer the purpose, or would stand the strain. The surf runs high even here, though not so fiercely as on the open beach. The Madras boat is large and light, constructed of thin planks sewed together with hide thongs, and caulked with cocoanut fibre. No nails enter into its construction, nor would answer the purpose, which the yielding thongs only are fitted for. Each of these boats is propelled by at least eight rowers, who use an oar shaped like a spoon, being a strong elastic pole with a flat, rounded end, securely lashed to it by hide thongs. The men pull regularly until they get into the surf, and then they work like mad, and the light boat is landed high and dry on the shelving sands.

Along the shore of the business section, the broad street is lined with lofty commercial warehouses, custom house, hongs and godowns, and we observed considerable building in progress just at this point. The submerged breakwater should be brought up to its proper height before anything else is attempted in or near the bay. Anchorage is very precarious, large steamers being compelled to keep up steam to ease any strain which may come upon their land tackle. One large iron vessel lay a wreck upon the beach, and was sold at auction, to be broken up, while we were there. She was loaded with coal for the depot of the P. and O. line.

In driving and strolling about the city we noted many local pictures. Groups of professional dancing girls are to be seen in all of the cities of India, generally attached to some temple, as no religious ceremony or gala day is considered complete without them; and indeed the same may be said of any large private entertainment, as guests never dance in the East, preferring to hire such work done for them. These dancers are accompanied by a musical instrument very much like a guitar, and sometimes by tambourines and fifes. Many of the girls are delicate and graceful both in form and manner. Those who adopt the calling consecrate themselves to it by some religious ceremony, and ever after are connected with the temples. They preserve decency and propriety in their public performances, which is curious to witness; their ankles being covered with silver bells and their wrists and arms similarly decked. Their effort appears to be that the bells should be so agitated as to ring in harmony with the instruments; but the fact is there is no harmony about either. These girls depend more in their performance upon pantomime, expression of features, pose of body, and graceful posturings, than upon any great exertion of muscle.

In their peculiar performance there is no exposure of the person, as in the Parisian style of dancing, only half clad as they are. These Indian girls endeavor to tell a story by their dance: to express love, hope, tenderness, jealousy, and other passions, all of which are so well portrayed, as a rule, that one can easily follow their pantomime. When idle, they sometimes perform as itinerants in the streets and squares, as was the case when we chanced to see a small group at Madras. Positive information regarding them is not to be obtained, but enough was heard to satisfy us that they constitute a priestly harem.

After passing a very pleasant week in Madras, we sailed at daylight, on the 11th of January, in the P. and O. steamship Teheran, for Calcutta, through the Bay of Bengal, a five days' voyage. Soon after leaving the roadstead of Madras there was pointed out to us on the port bow the low lying coast of Orissa, India, where the famine of 1866 carried off one million of souls. As we drew northward a decided difference in the temperature was realized, and was most agreeable; the thermometer showing 70° at Calcutta, in place of 90° at Madras, so that portions of clothing, discarded when we landed at Ceylon, were now resumed. Since entering these southern waters we had remarked the entire absence of sea-gulls, so ever-present on the Atlantic and North Pacific; but the abundance of Mother Carey's Chickens, as the little petrel is called, made up for the absence of the larger birds. It is swallow-like in both its appearance and manner of flight, and though web-footed is rarely seen to light on the water. It flies very close to the surface of the sea, frequently dipping for food; but never quite losing its power of wing, or at least so it appeared to us. Sailors, who are a proverbially superstitious race, seriously object to passengers at sea who attempt to catch the petrel with hooks baited with food and floated on the water, or by any other means, contending that ill-luck will follow their capture.

The ocean currents along the coast of Coromandel are marked and curious, requiring special care in navigation. Unless observations can be had by aid of the sun at noon-day, no ship is sure of her position; dead reckoning will not answer here. We were reminded in these waters of other currents: the Gulf Stream, for instance, on our own shore, finds its rise in the tropics, say in the Caribbean Sea and Gulf of Mexico, moves northeast along the American coast, gets a cant on the banks of Newfoundland, and after crossing the Atlantic, spends its force on the shores of Western Europe. The Japan Current, as it is called by seamen, originates in the Indian Ocean, moves northward along the eastern shore of Asia, and is divided by the Aleutian Islands and the Alaska Peninsula, one branch going to the Arctic Ocean, and the other along the west coast of America into the South Pacific. These details become very interesting to the traveler when passing long weeks upon the ocean, observing how the vessel in which he sails is either favored or retarded by these known forces.

Our course was due north until we anchored at the mouth of the Hoogly River to await a favorable tide, finally arriving at Calcutta on the evening of the 15th of January. The intricate navigation of the Hoogly, with its treacherous sands and ever-shifting shoals, is conducted by a pilot system especially organized by government, and is composed exclusively of Englishmen. No vessel can hope to ascend the river safely without being in charge of one of these pilots. We saw a large iron steamship, which was a quarter of a mile ahead of the Teheran, in her attempt to make the mouth of the Hoogly, caught by an adverse current, through what seemed to be a very trifling miscalculation, and she was cast aground as quickly as though blown on a lee shore by a tornado. We passed her as we went in, with both her anchors out, adopting various nautical expedients to get afloat. As the accident occurred on a rising tide, we have no doubt that she finally got free from her dangerous position.

Calcutta is the political capital of India, but since the opening of the Suez Canal, Bombay rivals it in all commercial respects. It was rather surprising to find so poor a hotel as the "Great Eastern" proved to be. It is calculated to receive within its walls at least one hundred to one hundred and fifty guests, and yet does not present the ordinary domestic comforts to be found in an American country tavern. A good hotel is a prime necessity to any city, and is of more importance to the interests of the inhabitants at large, and to its trades-people especially, than is generally realized. We were told by our banker and others that the complaint in this matter was so general that a company was forming to give to the city a first-class hotel on the American system, a consummation devoutly to be wished. At present tourists visiting Calcutta would be prompted, as we were, to abbreviate their stay in the city, solely for want of a good temporary home.

Calcutta is a very interesting city, very Indian, notwithstanding so many Europeans live here and it has so long been under English rule; but it is by no means entitled to the name so often given to it, the "City of Palaces." It is quite modern, having no remains of antiquity in or about it, and in 1686 was but a mud village. As seen from the Hoogly when one first lands, it has a strong array of fine public buildings; but a passage of a few rods, diverging from the main thoroughfare, brings the visitor upon the dirty streets, the mean and narrow houses, and general filth of the native population. The city is strongly individualized, and it may be remarked that of all the capitals thus far visited no two are alike, or strongly resemble each other. All differ radically in manners and customs, modes of conveyance, dress, architecture, and local color. We visited some of the palaces of the native princes, which show in what extravagant style they formerly lived, until compelled to come under English control. Many of these structures were partially denuded, and none pretended to be kept up to their former standard.

The National Museum is an institution of great importance, rich in its various specimens of Hindoo curiosities, and also in the possession of an extensive zoölogical and mineralogical collection, the whole contained in a noble building of modern construction. The city has also a number of literary, scientific, and charitable institutions, libraries, social and political clubs, hospitals, and the like. The Government House is a fine specimen of architecture, and is built around an open square ornamented like a garden, but really little less than a citadel if necessity should require it to assume that form. Owing to the nature of England's possession here, Government House is under semi-military organization, always ready to meet a popular uprising, and containing powerful means of defense. The zoölogical garden is almost a rival to that of London, and in some respects is superior to it. The botanical garden, located about three miles from the city proper, is equally remarkable for its size and comprehensive character. The good taste and appreciation which has gathered here so large and complete a public garden is worthy of all praise.

In this garden there is an enormous banyan-tree, one of the largest in the world, and the original of the picture of the school-books. The leaves are very similar to those of the poplar, and are four or five inches long. Its age is incalculable, being a tree of very slow growth, and continually multiplying itself, so that it may be said to live forever. There is one remarkable avenue of Palmyra palms in these grounds, which we have never seen excelled in beauty of effect even in the plantation avenues of Cuba, where the family of the palm form the pride of the coffee planters. Here was also to be seen specimens of the sacred bo-tree and the camphor-tree of great size; one large conservatory was devoted solely to the cultivation of ferns, which the gardener said contained twenty thousand varieties, from the size of an infant's hand to tall trees.

The various shades of green in this conservatory were no less remarkable than the wonderful variety of form, all being arranged in the most effective manner. The tall tree ferns seemed ready to burst through the glass roof, and were ornamented with little hanging baskets on their branches, containing choice and delicate specimens, while at their base was a rockery over which played a tiny fountain, causing the exquisitely pinnated feathery fronds of the ferns to tremble incessantly. In another part was a little patch of mossy meadow, and again there were decaying logs out of which sprang various ferns in wild luxuriance, as one has seen them in deeply-shaded, low-lying woods. The maiden-hair fern was here seen ranging from leaves as large as one's thumb-nail to a species with leaves the size of pin-heads. There was a charming harmony in the whole arrangement; nothing seemed abrupt, each effect blended gracefully with those surrounding it, like well-balanced colors in an oil painting.

The King of Oude's palace, on the opposite side of the river, will well pay the traveler for a visit. The old king has a reputation of being a little out of his head, or, as the Scotch say, has a bee in his bonnet; at any rate, he is very queer, very fat, and very independent, with his allowance of half a million dollars per annum from the English government who dethroned him, at which time he was King of Oude, one of the richest provinces of India, Lucknow being the capital. He is said to be still a rebel at heart, and was a strong supporter of the mutiny. He is really a sort of state's prisoner in his own palace at Garden Reach, as the place is called, where he has a whole menagerie of animals, and is especially fond of tigers, of which he keeps over twenty in stout cages. He has also a large and remarkable collection of snakes, all Indian, and "millions" of pigeons. He pays fabulous prices for any bird or animal to which he takes a fancy, and is, of course, duly victimized by cunning dealers. He is a fanatic in religious observances, and confines himself within the palace walls, from one year's end to another, with his tigers, snakes, pigeons, priests, and women. He permits tourists to visit his grounds, but will himself see no one. It would not seem that he owes any affection to the English, who, under some specious pretense, seized his private property, including his valuable jewels, and sold them for the benefit of Queen Victoria's treasury. As was said by the British press at the time, the English had no more right to those precious stones and private property than they had to the crown diamonds of Russia.

The government fortifications here will interest travelers, as they are remarkable for completeness, and presenting the advanced ideas in the line which they represent. But we were most entertained and longest occupied in Calcutta by the native bazars, which, as usual, gave one a special insight into the character of the people, their tastes and occupations. An hour was passed of quite an impressive character at a large building inclosing a high-walled area on the banks of the river, known as the Burning Ghat, where the ceremony of cremating the dead is going on at all hours of the day and night. Seven corpses were brought in and placed upon the pyres, built up of unsawed cord wood in cob style, raised to the height of four feet, the fire being applied to a small handful of specially combustible material at the bottom. The whole was so prepared as to ignite rapidly, and in a very few moments after the torch was applied to it, the pile was wreathed in the devouring element. The atmosphere was impregnated with offensive odors, and one was fain to get on the windward side of the smoking mass. The Ghat was open to the sky, so that the ventilation was all that could be obtained. The bodies thus treated are entirely consumed in about three hours, during which the wood requires partial renewal, and all palpable signs having disappeared the ashes are solemnly cast into the sacred river close at hand, the Hoogly being one of the outlets of the Ganges. When first brought to the Ghat, a very simple and brief ceremony is held over each body, and then a member of the family of mourners which attend the burning applies the torch to the pyre. The custom is that this service should be performed by the oldest son of the deceased, if there be such a representative. The first time we witnessed such a scene was at the Calcutta Ghat, but our after experience, as to the disposal of the dead, was still more strange, as we shall have occasion to record in these notes. Close by this Burning Ghat, along the river front, there are a number of sheds, with only partial shelter from the street, where poor dying Hindoos are brought to breathe their last, believing that if they pass away close to the sacred water, their spirits will be instantly wafted to regions of bliss. Here they are attended by persons who make a business of it; and it was intimated to us that they often hasten the demise of the sufferers by convenient means. Human life is held of very little account among these people, whose blind faith bridges the gulf of death, and who were at one time so prone to suicide, by drowning in the Ganges, as to require strict police surveillance on the part of the English to prevent it.

At the close of each day, about an hour before sunset, all fashionable Calcutta turns out in state for a drive on the Maidan, – the Hindoostani name for esplanade, – a broad and finely macadamized roadway, extending along the river's bank, by the fort, the open cricket grounds, the parade, and the gardens, arranged as a circular course of a mile or more in extent, which would be perfection had it only a proper complement of shade trees. It is really a most delightful resort after the trying heat of the day, when the cooling influence of the twilight commences; in short it is the Indian Hyde Park, or Bengal Champs Elysées. The variety, elegance, and costliness of the equipages in grand livery that crowd the Maidan during the fashionable hour was a surprise, the whole scene enlivened by the brilliant dresses of the ladies, the dashing costumes, and gold lace of the nabobs, the quaint Oriental dress of their barefooted attendants, and the spirited music of the military band. The variety of nationality present was infinite; the participants in varied dress were Parsees, Hindoos, Mussulmans, English, Egyptians, with a sprinkling of French and Italians. The twilight hour is brief; the crowd dashed round the long course in the liveliest manner, until the amber shades deepened, and then a hundred electric lights of great power, shielded by ground-glass globes, flashed upon the scene, rivaling in effect the broadest daylight. Then the occupants of the open vehicles and the equestrians gathered about the Eden Gardens, where the music-stand is placed, and in ranks eight or ten lines deep, listened to the popular airs so finely rendered, or chatted gayly with each other during the intervals of the music. These Eden Gardens, always open to the public, with their tropical vegetation, picturesque temples, summer-houses, and refreshing ornamental waters, are a delightful resort in the after-part of the day, when their inviting shade can be best appreciated. The Cascine at Florence, the Pincio at Rome, the Chiaja of Naples, the Prado of Madrid, none of these can compare in point of gayety, variety, and attractiveness with the Maidan of this Indian capital.

It would seem that Calcutta ought to be a healthy city, but, as it regards English residents, it cannot be said to be so. A peculiarity in this connection was explained to us by an officer of the civil service, long resident in the East. Both himself and wife were our companions on board the Kashgar, on the voyage from Bombay to Suez, the gentleman being on leave of absence for a brief month's stay in England, where mother and father were going to meet their three children. It seems that pure blooded European children, even if born in India, are unable to struggle successfully against the enervating effects of its climate, and this applies not alone to Calcutta, but to all parts of the country. Until their sixth year, children apparently retain their health and the ruddy color of the race, but, soon after that age, they grow pale and wan, the listlessness of a premature decay setting in, or some mysterious blight steals over them. Thus, without the symptoms of any fixed disease, they droop and pine, like exotic plants. Nothing but a return to England, the home of their race, will restore them. The utmost care is of no avail. Even removing them to higher table-lands in the hill country has no saving effect. An English gentleman and his wife, who had long resided at Lahore, told us the same; they being also separated from their children, who had been born in India, but necessarily sent home to England to restore their fading health. This singular peculiarity is so well known, that its fatal results are now promptly guarded against by the one and only resort, – of parents and children submitting to separation.

The city is said to contain a million of inhabitants, but this seemed an excessive computation. The frail character of the native houses, in the section of Calcutta occupied by Indians, may be judged of by the fact that the cyclone, which visited the place the year after that of the famine at Orissa, destroyed over thirty thousand of their houses; and, three years later, in 1870, another cyclone was equally destructive among these dwellings. The Hoogly River is visited, during the monsoons, about the last of April, by a tidal wave, which dashes up from the sea at a speed of twenty miles an hour, causing much destruction. Ships lying off the city often part their cables, and are driven on shore; while many small craft, along the eighty miles of river course, are not unfrequently destroyed altogether.

Taking the cars of the Eastern Bengal Railway, we started for Darjeeling, in the extreme north of India, a distance of about four hundred miles from Calcutta. At Damookdea the Ganges was crossed, and the journey resumed by the North Bengal State Railway. At Siliguri the Narrow Gauge Himalayan Railway was taken, by which to ascend the mountains, and a wonderful piece of engineering it was found to be, doubling upon itself frequently in a distance of two hundred feet; in one place the train passing over a bridge which it had passed under a few minutes before. The railroad running up Mount Washington, in New Hampshire, though more precipitous, is less remarkable. The wild, extensive scenery on the route was a constant reminder of the Sierra Nevada mountains, through which we had passed by moonlight, in far-off America. As we progressed upwards, flocks of Tibet goats began to appear, and a hardier race of men and women than those we had left below on the plains of Hindostan. The road was being much improved, and laborers were busy all day along the route, consisting of men and women and young girls, all performing the same style of labor, with shovel and pick, each carrying a small basket of earth and stone on his or her back.

Among these laborers three distinct nationalities were observable, marked by dress, physiognomy, and figure. They were people from Tibet, Nepal, and Cashmere, which border on this part of northern India, and are separated from it by the Himalayan Range. These mingled races formed picturesque groups, the men armed with long, sword-like knives and other weapons, after the fashion of their native lands. Some of the young women were quite pretty, though a little masculine and sturdy in figure, appearing very much like their sisters of Alpine Switzerland. At the noon hour, they gathered in groups near the doors of their shanties on the abrupt hill-sides; where, throwing themselves on the ground, they partook of their coarse, midday meal, quite in gypsy style, about a smoking iron pot, suspended over a fire by a tripod. They watched us curiously, for the passing cars formed the one daily event, connecting them with the far-away populous cities of the plains, places of which they only knew by report. Our train consisted of two cars only, a first and a second class; but the engine, built especially for this service, puffed and snorted like mad, with the wildest vigor, in its struggle to surmount the steep grade, seeming to be vastly refreshed by a few moments' rest at the frequent watering-places. These consisted of a wooden trough running out of the hill-side, and supplied by one of the thousand tiny brooks that burst out everywhere. At these the thirsty little engine drank copiously, and often; until finally, after many hours, we rounded a high projecting cliff, and in a moment after reached the little station of Darjeeling, which signifies "Up in the Clouds."

We arrived early in the afternoon, and fortunately on a clear day, so we anticipated having the rare pleasure of witnessing the sunset upon the loftiest range of snow-clad mountains on the globe. As we rounded the bluff already spoken of, there burst upon our sight, for a few moments, a complete view of the range, lying under a clear sky and warm glow of sunlight, so entrancing as almost to take away one's breath. The imagination had never before depicted anything so grand and inspiring. Our little party could only point at it, and look into each other's eyes. Words would have jarred like a discord upon the ear. What the Bernese Oberland range is to the Alps, this Kinchinjunga group is to the sky-reaching Himalayas. The former, however, are but pygmies compared with these giants at Darjeeling. One gazes in amazement at the peaks, and almost doubts that they belong to the earth upon which he stands. Visitors from a distance are often compelled to depart in disappointment after waiting for days to obtain a fair view of the range. We had reason for gratitude in having reached this elevated spot at so propitious a season.