Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 ..

by Taylor, Winchcombe

  The butler at last appeared, red-eyed. "Drink bring. Juldee kuro" Jory ordered. And to McNeil: "We must get Ned's gear aboard the next ship—and hope our own won't be keeping it company."

  Ram was now learning the price Mother India exacted from those who would woo her. Ned! And his defiant battle song. "Forward press with hearts unjaiUng, till invaders learn with quailing — Cambria ne'er can yield!" Dead!

  But when the wine had reached his head and eased his heart, he insisted stubbornly, "We don't have cholera at Bankipur," and knew nothing more until he awakened aboard the dhow. "Lord, drink." Baja was again offering him a gourd. Draining it thirstily, he felt better. "What happened?"

  "Lord, your heart was stricken. I, who also have known sorrow, ordered the manjhi to sail you and your friends to Bankipur."

  Only then did Ram see Jory and McNeil sleeping on cots beside him. "In Vishnu's name, how came they here?"

  "Doesn't the Twice Born's company require their service? Morgan Sahib will follow two days hence."

  Rem knew he should punish this meddler, but a blissful lassitude overcame him and he drifted into erotic dreams, in which Annie, shamelessly nude, floated down to take him in her arms, until the voluptuous pressure of her body gave him release.

  The dhow was near the factory when McNeil and Jory shook him awake, demanding where they were. When he told them, Jory gasped: "Kidnaped—I, a Company officer! God, I'll have you out for this!"

  "At least you'll be safe from cholera," Ram placated. "But let's land and talk it over in my quarters."

  But Jory, praying he wouldn't be court-martialed, returned downriver that night. McNeil stayed, however, Hume having agreed to make him his personal secretary. And, two days later, Morgan did come, explaining he had left his written resignation at Falta.

  Meanwhile, La Paix arrived, and Ritter and Ram were kept busy by von Bruck, who inspected everything and made shrewd improvements. When he spoke of the projected coast survey. Ram was on tenterhooks until Ritter said pompously: "My duty lies here. Hen Hauptman. Send my junior, but give me the other Engldnder, Morgan. He speaks no German, but he's fluent in Bengali and can command the sepoys."

  Von Bruck then provided Ram with charts. "They're poor, but if you're anything of a cartographer, you'll make more detailed ones."

  One morning, five twenty-pound bags of raw opium were found on Ram's veranda. Baja had kept his word. Ram sent them aboard La Paix with his gumlac, flattered by the Maratha's trust in him. He half wished the one-eyed one would be coming with him, but he'd vanished.

  One-eyed! It gave him an idea and he asked Hume to order him some glass eyes with black irises.

  "And what would ye want wi' such?"

  "A small matter of trade, sir. I've seem 'em worn by men who'd lost eyes in the Flanders wars. They're made in Amsterdam, and I imagine there are many one-eyed folk in India."

  "Losh, I'll order a gross! A good trader's lost in you, laddie."

  Only on the night before he left did Annie visit Ram again. "It's been so long," she sighed, coming into his arms. "I've no' dared come before, what wi' the ship's officers and the new writers and the lads ye trepanned from Calcutta. Father bade me make them feel at home."

  "Not too much so, I trust?"

  "Lad, I think only of you." She pressed closer. "If only we were home! The heaven of it to be at your grand Dalesview and to spend the season in London! Can't we go soon, love?"

  As always, when she begged him like this, he was tempted to promise, but caution rescued him. "Say it! Say it!" she begged, but he smothered her pleas with such passionate kisses that she was moaning incoherently as he drew her down on the bed.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE ORISSA COAST,

  1723

  "By Siva, hhaee, send these low-caste Bengalese back to their muddy Hooghly," Baja persisted. "You must have Marathas, who won't be afraid to keep the sea in a hurricane like they are."

  Ram looked up from the chart he was completing. "They're not too daring, but they seem loyal enough. Why do you despise them so?" Ever since, a month before, Baja had boarded the dhow below Calcutta, he had dropped the fiction of being a slave. Now he called Ram hhaee —brother—or even hehta —son.

  "Here, safe in the Devi, they're brave," he said now. "But once we reach Puri strong arms must protect you, for Feringis are unwelcome there. If these spineless ones fear a cupful of wind, they'll fear to fight for you." He pointed to the bankside. "Send Gopal Das to hire us tattoos in yonder village. The wind will remain two days more and not far off is a temple you should see."

  Ram's charting was up to date and, two days' idleness in this river mouth not appealing, he sent the bearer off on the errand.

  "No Feringi has ever been where I shall take you," Baja resumed. Going aft, he returned with a bundle and two stoppered brass bottles. "Wah, you'll make a fine tall Rajput, even though you yet lack a fierce beard! Strip, and I'll work first on your hair, for it must look as glossy black as mine."

  Being proud of his auburn shade. Ram would have objected, but already Baja had poured some jet liquid from one bottle into a clay dish. "It will wash out." After treating Ram's eyebrows and lashes, he poured liquid from the second bottle. "Rub this over all parts of your body, evenly and smoothly." From the bundle he produced skintight paejamas, a yellow tunic with silver buttons, embroidered shoes with upturned toes, a pink turban cloth, a gold bangle and a fine diamond ring. "Arre, you make a great young lord! Let me rub the stain on your back, else you'll be parti-colored."

  Baja had planned this all along. Ram realized. Why? But at least it promised adventure. Soon the newly created Rajput walked bow-ward, self-conscious in his finery. One of the boatmen ashore, happening to glance his way, shouted: "Begone, or the Feringi will have you lashed with a thousand strokes!" He came splashing aboard, waving a lathi.

  "Recognize me do not you?" Ram asked him, chuckling.

  He stopped short, "hrre, sahib, your servant amazed is." He called the others, who swarmed aboard to stare and laugh helplessly.

  But Baja gave them grim warning: "This is matter of high policy. Reveal who the sahib really is, and you will die painfully." When Gopal Das returned with two tattoos, he too was warned. All agreed that Ram looked truly like a young gentleman from Rajputana.

  Next dawn the two rode southward, then turned inland to find a ford across the Prachi. Passing through several villages, by noon

  they were on a jungle track. Sweating in his unfamiliar garb, Ram hoped the trip would reveal why Baja had sought his friendship.

  "Orissa is the holy land of all Hindus," the latter explained. "You've seen temples in Bengal. Now you'll see one that was once the most beautiful in the world." And, when the jungle thinned, "Behold the Temple of Suraya. Beyond is Konarak City."

  As they rode closer. Ram saw that the jungle had encroached up to the vast, crumbling and seemingly deserted structure. They dismounted outside the walls and Baja bade him wait. "There should be a gossein here who could have news for me." He entered a gateway.

  Resting in the shade, Ram watched the jabbering monkeys who swung in the trees and stared down at him, their eyes bright in their old-man wizened faces. One descended, crept close and held out a paw, chattering inquiringly. He threw him a chupatti and laughed as the little creature tore it to fragments, ate them, then squatted and searched for fleas.

  Time passed. Ram knew no Christian dared profane an occupied temple, but this was a ruin. Getting up, he passed through a gateway.

  The building's entire exterior was decorated with a frieze of thousands of stone figures. Krishna, supreme god of the Hindus, was there in all his incarnations and duplicated many times, as were Brahma, Vishnu and Siva. But mainly there were pairs and groups of figures portraying the sex act in all its variations. What Ram had seen at the other temple with Bea and Annie was as nothing to this. Remembrance of the nights in his bungalow made his stomach tighten. Was Annie consoling herself with others now?

  Baja emerged from the h
uge audience hall with a shambling creature who wore only a filthy dhoti. Baja said something to him which caused him to stare at Ram, nod, then return within.

  "Ramji, Vishnu blesses us!" Baja called. "That most holy beggar had fine news. Soon things will come to pass."

  "What things?" Ram felt resentful. "Why did you bring me here?"

  "Not yet," the other evaded. "Mount, bhaee, we must sleep tonight at the dhurm sallah at Konarak. But be ever cautious."

  The Konarak rest house horrified Ram. Incredibly filthy, it swarmed with insects. But Baja purloined the cleanest sleeping places, pre-

  pared tumeric-seasoned rice and watered the horses. Since Ram spoke no Rajasthani, Baja said, he must pose as the son of a landowner in Rajputana who, having been stricken dumb, was on a pilgrimage to Puri for the Festival of Juggernaut, in the hope of recovering his speech. Then Baja left him.

  Travelers arrived, so Ram lay on his horse blanket, feigning sleep, but watching everyone. Fleas began tormenting him.

  Baja returned at last, with half a dozen men, all armed with swords, spears and shields. They huddled around a small fire and talked softly, sometimes glancing at Ram. It was late when they broke up and went to their sleeping places.

  Baja came to lie beside Ram. "All's well," he reassured and turned on his side. Ram cursed. Now was no time to quarrel, but tomorrow! It was dawn before the fleas let him fall asleep.

  When they were riding north again, he flared: "Enough! Fm an officer on duty. I can't tolerate this disguising and mystery."

  "Aboard the dhow. Officer Sahib, you'll resume your proper identity," Baja placated. "Yet many a Feringi would give much to be able to pass so successfully as a Hindu."

  Mollified, Ram admitted that the deception had been interesting. "Who were those men last night?"

  "You've heard of Pindarees?"

  "You once told me. Cavalry, half bandits, who sell their swords."

  "Yes, and each a fine horseman, expert with sword and lance. Suppose they learned to fight European style? They'd be superb!"

  "You want me to enlist some in my company's service?"

  "Bhowani, never! I want them trained as Europeans only."

  Now Ram understood. "And I to do the training?"

  "Bhaee, you wish to see war, yet your company is too weak to fight." Baja gestured westward. "Yonder my race is stirring once more. We Marathas are destined to destroy the Moslems and rule all Hind. Aie, there will be untold loot!"

  Why not? Ram thought. Why be a drillmaster under Ritter, and making a few thousands by trade, when there were greater prizes? He'd come to India to be a leader. "When does this war start?"

  But Baja wouldn't be drawn and, instead, spoke of the fort's small brass guns. "Are such used by Europeans in battle?"

  "They're too small for ordinary fieldwork, but, mounted on carriages, they're sometimes used with cavalry."

  "Could some be bought?"

  It was against the policy of all European companies to sell artillery to natives, but Ram was sure Hume could arrange things, if made profitable to himself, "It would take time to get them from Ostend. Also there must be caissons for powder and shot."

  "Caissons can be made here," Baja countered. Then they fell into talk about fine-corned powder and six-pound balls that must be cast to a hairbreadth accuracy.

  The hurricane had died by the time they regained the dhow; so after Ram had scrubbed himself back to his normal hue, they put out to sea and ran southward along the coast. He continued to bring the old charts up to date.

  At Puri, in his best uniform and escorted by Baja, he had a meeting with the chief merchants. They tugged their beards when he asked if a factory could be built there. No, it was impossible for Feringis to settle in so holy a city, to which pilgrims came from all over India. Yet if a factory were started several coss away, there could be fine trade of European goods for leather, cotton, fabrics, silks, saltpeter and opium.

  "It's time to dismiss those Bengalese," Baja said, as they were returning to the dhow. "Pay them off and I'll get men who fear nothing." Beating down Ram's objections, he added: "Good. Go aboard, I'll arrange everything." He was jubilant when he himself came aboard the dhow. "Four of my race will join us tomorrow. In three weeks is the great festival, which few Feringis have seen."

  "You'd help me to be one of them?"

  "Yes. I wish you to understand more about my people."

  In three weeks, Ram thought, he could rendezvous with Miiller, who was working up from Coblom, and still get back to Puri. So he wrote to Ritter, reporting on the survey thus far, and also to Hume, asking him to order Ostend-made six-pounders and munitions for an unnamed merchant, who was acting for a warring rajah. Tlien he gave letters to Gopal Das with some money and ordered him to make his own way back to Bankipur with the boatmen.

  Barely had the Bengalese left, when four Marathas came aboard,

  grinning and eager, but far more awed by Baja than Ram, But they proved to be good seamen and soon had the dhow clear of the harbor.

  In good time Ram was back at Puri, having met Miiller, with whom he exchanged copies of their reports and charts. But it was as Ram Singh, from Alwar in Rajputana that he went ashore at Puri, escorted by the Marathas. "I'd have made you a Maratha too, but you're too tall," Baja said, when adding to Ram's disguise by winding his turban ends around his chin, which itself was half hidden under his tunic's high collar. "Now, remember, be silent. This is the day of days for Vishnu, under his title of Juggernaut, and is most holy. In yonder blue mountains lies the Earth's Navel."

  It puzzled Ram why the other, who boasted of being one of the Kshatriya caste, second only to the twice-born Brahmins, should bring a Christian to this holy spectacle. But Baja always was devious.

  As they joined the vast crowd, he sensed its hysteria. Men, women and children were gripped by an exaltation bordering upon madness. Surrounded by his guardians, he moved slowly through the press. Dust choked him and the odor of sweating bodies nauseated him, though he knew that even the most scabrous beggar present had bathed ceremoniously and was wearing his cleanest clothing.

  Then the Car of Juggernaut—huge, with enormous wheels, the flower-decked god itself a grotesque monster reverenced by millions. Behind it stood two smaller cars, one bearing Juggernaut's brother, the other his sister. Hundreds of devotees were fighting for places at the cars' drag ropes. Ahead were priests, torchbearers, musicians, dancing girls and flower strewers.

  To exotic music and the beating of great drums, the procession began, the crowd chanting and praying. Men went down and were trampled, women and children were crushed as excitement broke bounds. By forming a tight phalanx, however, Ram's party kept their feet. At last the man-drawn cars moved toward the temple, which lay bevond a wide sandy plain. The seven-foot wheels sank deep and volunteers sprang to turn them by hand. A Madrassi slipped and his scream rose horribly as a wheel crushed him, but no one paused to drag his corpse clear.

  "On to the temple!" Baja panted. "The worst of the sand's passed

  and now the professional pullers will take the ropes." But they found the temple's forecourt already jammed by a human mass; only by shoving and squirming did they reach the front rank. Like the Suraya Temple, Juggernaut's Temple was decorated with grotesquely obscene figures; obscene too were the bejeweled dancing girls, posturing before the temple stairs to sense-stirring music.

  Stirred himself, Ram asked Baja what significance the dances had.

  "They re-enact the stories of the gods and their loves. These are thdssee —temple girls—taught by the priests all the arts of love. Later they'll give themselves to all comers and collect rich contributions to offer to Juggernaut."

  Whores—religious whores! Ram recalled a passage in Alexander about them; how, when children, they were dedicated to a temple, where they were first taught art, literature, languages, music and dancing; then at puberty they were deflowered by priests and henceforth were at all men's call. As it had been 2,000 years ago, it still was! He
could understand camp followers like Meg, even Carla, having to prostitute themselves. But, whoring as a religion!

  He watched one girl. Almost a child, she was of much lighter hue than the rest. Her hair shone like jet as she moved, her pale face immobile, her eyes seeming huge because of kohl-darkened lids. He had a curious impression that she was afraid. Of what? That after the dances she'd be taken by any of these crazed bastards who might choose her? Then pity became stark desire. Could he himself have her? He grinned. Why not? He wasn't a Christian now, but a wealthy young Rajput! He swallowed, dry mouthed. Would she be like Carla, Annie, Bea?

  Fascinated, he watched her sinuous arms re-enacting some old tale; encircling, repelling, inviting, striking. He gripped Baja's shoulder. "If I were truly a Rajput, there's the one I'd take!"

  "Silence, in Vishnu's name! None but Hindus may enjoy thassee" A pause, then: "Which one?"

  Ram showed him and he pointed her to one of the boatmen, who gestured obscenely. "Come, lord," Baja said loudly, "we must make way for our less fortunate brothers." With elbows and shoulders he opened a path rearward.

  After they had won free and had cooled off with sweetened water

  bought from a vendor, Ram said with studied casualness: "I'm going back, lest others are before me with that girl."

  "Arre, would you have us all torn to pieces?" Baja exploded. "Besides, you've sweated most of the stain off your face."

  Ram passed an angry hand across his face. The droplets of sweat were dark brown. Deflated, he agreed to return to the city. The boatmen remained there to taste its delights, but he and Baja went back aboard. There, pacing restlessly. Ram realized that Carla, a dark European, was no lighter skinned than the thassee, though the Hindu girl was finer boned.

  After arguing again with Baja, who insisted that, with all Puri flaming with fanaticism, it would be suicidal to return ashore, Ram tore off his finery and dived into the cooling water. As he swam, reason returned. Why consider a native whore while Annie awaited him?