by Jean Burnett
October 10th
We are now in the Doldrums, becalmed for almost three weeks. Water is now very scarce and the heat unbearable. Those who have the energy can dance quadrilles on deck because the sea is so calm. Having been confident that my last hour had come at Cape Horn I am now likely to die of boredom. Never has the prospect of a life as a curate’s wife seemed more attractive.
Diary entries written in India
October 29th
My boredom was soon to be relieved, dear reader, in the most appalling way. The ship had put in to one of the Nicobar Islands to take on much needed water. Later, we were off the coast of Ceylon when the terrible mishap took place. Some spirit – brandy, no doubt – had leaked from a dislodged barrel in the hold. When a seaman inspected the barrels his candle fell from his hand and ignited the patch of liquid. The fire instantly spread through the hold and took the ship.
We were hurried to the lifeboats, unable to rescue any of our belongings and wearing only our morning clothes, and in some instances our nightwear. There was surprisingly little panic and thankfully no loss of life. I was frozen with terror for an instant and then the instinct for self-preservation came to the fore. Mr Macaulay seized me and almost hurled me at a crew member, who dropped me unceremoniously into the life-boat. Adelaide followed in the same style. Mr M did not join us but was accommodated in another boat.
The boats reached the shores of Ceylon where local people came down to help us on the beaches. We found ourselves in a wild and lonely spot on the edge of the jungle with a few giant beehive houses strung on poles for the native people, surrounded by tall coconut palms. The locals indicated with much gesticulation that there was a mission post not far off. We made a fearsome trek through the jungle for a short distance before reaching this place. Thank goodness for the brave British Lancers! They supported and often carried us through the terrifying vegetation that reminded me immediately of my time in Brazil.
The native men were also familiar in their appearance, in that they were almost naked, their handsome brown bodies glistening in the sun. I noticed that Mrs Morrison could not take her eyes off them unless her husband looked her way. The mission station did its best for us but it was a small, simple place that could not cope with so many people.
We were surrounded by locals who offered us tropical fruit and coconuts, fish and small black pigs costing sixpence. As we had no money with us, complicated bargaining ensued. Mrs Makepeace’s pearls were still attached to my neck but I noted that the natives were not interested in them.
‘Pearls are plentiful enough around here,’ the local missionary told me. ‘They are much more interested in brass rings.’ Indeed, the locals and some of the soldiers who could swim had tried to salvage as much as possible from the wreck. The village headman brandished aloft some brass curtain rings triumphantly. Some of the Lancers sold their brass uniform buttons in exchange for food.
Chapter 31
November 10th
The headman of the village now proudly wears his brass buttons around his neck on a string. Adelaide was able to bargain with one of the local women for a length of blue cloth, which she wore sari style over her tattered petticoats. With the addition of some silver wire ornaments she looked quite a la mode in a savage kind of way.
My situation was little better although I had managed to cling to my shawl to cover my bedraggled cotton gown. I urged Mr Macaulay to do something about my appearance.
‘I know you have some tobacco, which is greatly prized by the natives,’ I told him. ‘Can you not bargain for some cloth for me? I cannot travel on to India looking like this.’ He eyed my pearls speculatively as if wondering what use he could make of them, but I shook my head slowly and bared my teeth! He nodded and walked away along the beach.
Later he returned with a length of cloth and a few coconuts which he obligingly cracked open. I drank the refreshing milk gratefully while Mr M added some rum to his portion. I have no doubt that if he landed on the moon the wretched man would find some alcohol somewhere. He had purloined the rum from one of the barrels washed ashore from the wreck.
‘The soldiers are making good use of them,’ he told me, ‘but it could be a devilish serious matter if the natives get hold of it. They are unaccustomed to alcohol and it could have a devastating effect.’
And so, what more afflictions will beset us? Is it not enough that we are abandoned on a remote tropical island, clad in rags, barefoot and penniless, without the prospect of natives and soldiers running amok? I dread to think what could happen to us.
Adelaide does not seem too worried. She has already embraced island life, wandering along the beach barefoot in her new finery, eyeing the assembled male bodies. The soldiers have divested themselves of their uniforms because of the heat and are almost as naked as the natives.
‘Madam, don’t you think it could be a pleasant spot in which to spend some time?’ she asked. ‘The locals bring us food, we don’t need no clothes worth speaking of…’ She did not need to add that a supply of rum and soldiers to while away the time added to her pleasure. Some of the band members have rescued their instruments and impromptu dances are held by moonlight on the beach, much appreciated by the natives who add their own version of dancing to the general merriment.
I cannot share her pleasure in this Robinson Crusoe existence. The presence of my non-spouse, the prickly-heat rash and my fear of the tropical vegetation and wildlife have ruined any appreciation I might have had.
The Reverend Morrison fears a total breakdown of morality if we remain here for any length of time. A message has been sent to the authorities on the island and we expect a rescue ship in due course. I am mortified at the thought of arriving in India in this condition. Will I be forced to sell my pearls… surely not all of them? It is outside of intolerable!
‘Come and dance, madam,’ said Adelaide. ‘Don’t take on so.’ I was not greatly diverted.
I have to admit that our diet, at least, has been much improved since we arrived on the island. After the miserable ship’s rations and lack of water and fresh fruit we are enjoying tropical fruits, coconuts and roast piglet while the soldiers have rigged up fishing rods and can supply us with fresh fish. The natives refuse to fish for us. I believe this is because we are running out of items to use as barter. The local missionary told us that it was fortunate that we were shipwrecked on the Nicobar Islands. If we had suffered the mishap on the Andaman Islands not far away, it could have been very different.
‘They are cannibals,’ he remarked.
November 16th
A ship has been sighted on the horizon and we believe it to be the rescue vessel sent to convey us on to India. What relief! The officers are rounding up the men who are forced to don their uniforms, now stiff and unpleasant from a dousing in salt water. Whatever has been salvaged from the Tanjore has been assembled on the beach. I was saddened to find the remains of my copy of Frankenstein among the debris – but what joy! Mr Macaulay has found one of our trunks. Perhaps the man has some uses after all. A few of my belongings are in the trunk and I will not have to appear looking like a gypsy ragamuffin when we reach our destination.
November 17th
We embarked on the Maid of Kent where we were received with great kindness by the captain and crew who commiserated with us about our misfortunes. The Reverend Morrison was seen to fall on his knees on deck offering thanks to the Almighty for our deliverance. Adelaide watched with disgust. She is not religiously inclined and found no objections to island life. She is less than sanguine about India and I share her anxiety. It was fortunate that a ship returning to England with a light load was able to turn around and rescue us.
The rest of the voyage was fairly smooth. The Andamans were sighted in the distance and flying fish followed us once more. Finally we anchored off the sands of India before taking a boat up the Hooghly River. This is a great river and gave us our first insight into the vast land we had entered. We watched fishermen wreathed in white linen again
st the early morning chill when we anchored overnight on the second day.
On the third day we arrived at Chandpor Ghat in Calcutta. We had reached our destination after five months of travel. I was happy to be able to wear a respectable muslin gown to enter the city of palaces, as it is known. I no longer had a bonnet but I draped a stole over my head. Some appropriate apparel was found for Adelaide so that we did not appear too bizarre. Temporary accommodation has been found for us until we depart up country to Mr Macaulay’s posting.
Chapter 32
December 7th
We are billeted for a short while in a district called Chowringhee which is very pleasant and full of fine houses occupied mainly by Europeans. The houses have large windows and matting on the floors to keep the place cool. I was surprised to find that the rents are very high and the large number of servants deemed necessary are also a great expense. We will not be here for any great length of time, however, and I suppose the rents are being paid by the Company, else Mr M is using the money gained from the sale of my jewels.
A native called a sirdar is in charge of the servants. He reports to me every morning with paper and reed pen in hand awaiting my orders. He is a lean, dark, elegant man wearing a spotless white turban wound from many yards of muslin. His beaded leather slippers are much coveted by Adelaide. During our conversations the sirdar uses many extravagant expressions such as, ‘You are my sun, moon and stars, memsahib,’ which I find somewhat embarrassing, but it is the custom here apparently.
As in Rio it is possible to obtain all manner of European goods – fine china, furniture and glassware – at very high prices. All the servants and merchants demand something called dasturi – a gratuity for any service carried out or purchase made.
Many of the Company staff and their wives have generously loaned us clothes and goods after hearing of our predicament. I have been able to obtain a silk gown in which to appear at the Governor’s ball. These are held frequently and if we stayed here for any length of time we would be financially ruined, if we are not so already. I have no doubt that Mr M’s gambling debts on the ship were large.
Adelaide is something of a curiosity here. Few of the ladies have brought their own maid owing to the number of servants available, but she was accustomed to this situation in Brazil. Her presence is vital to me because the native servants are very lazy. They will perform only certain duties – often only one – because of their religious customs which are extremely complicated. Then they promptly go to sleep. We must take account of their unaccountable practices – Hindu, Muslim or Sikh – which must not be violated at any cost.
The climate is very uncertain, oven-hot one week, followed by strong breezes and heavy rain. The houses have a wonderful contraption called a punkah which is a giant wooden fan operated by ropes and pulleys. The operator is called a punkah-wallah.
The other Europeans call us griffins. All newcomers are griffins for their first year in India. Once again I am suffering as I suffered in Brazil from lassitude caused by the heat, mosquito bites and all the problems of a tropical climate. My ringlets hang in damp, bedraggled strands – and my hair was always my best feature!
My head aches when I try to remember the strict rules governing the Hindu caste system, not to mention other religions. Muslims will not touch a plate on which pork has been served; all things relating to the cow are sacred to Hindus, as well as monkeys and many other animals. Adelaide is quick to pick up all this knowledge. She has been to the bazaar and already has a print of the elephant-headed god Ganesh pinned up in her room. ‘On account of he brings good fortune and luck,’ she told me. I can imagine what the Reverend Morrison would say to that.
We will certainly have need of luck. We are due to leave in a few days to travel hundreds of miles upcountry to the desert state of Rajputana, to the station where Mr M must join his regiment. Meanwhile we must appreciate the comforts of home as they exist here: iced claret, sausages in tins, pots of soup sent from England, custards and arrowroot puddings prepared by Adelaide to offset the consumption of curry. I am growing quite fond of this spicy dish but the consequences can be unfortunate. There is gentleman’s relish for Mr M and cases of marmalade and other necessities of life.
In the absence of Mr M and other Europeans I have succumbed to an unseemly vice. I have acquired a hookah, an oriental pipe machine, and I smoke apple tobacco and rosewater in private. I know this is a shocking pastime for a lady, although it is very popular with the men. However, I find it soothing and a distraction from the heat and the wildlife and the problems of my future. Mr M thinks I have purchased it as a gift for him.
December 24th
He mellowed sufficiently to make me an accidentally generous gift. He purchased one of the Calcutta lottery tickets on my behalf, as a Christmas gift, and I became a winner. The prize was 5,000 rupees and Mr M immediately bought two fine Arab horses with the money. Graciously, he has given one to me, a beautiful grey with a good temperament. I have christened it Byron after my hero. I have also adopted a small terrier called Fudge, left by a departing official. I try to keep him to the veranda – with some difficulty – lest he come to harm. He is a sweet thing and a charming companion. Sometimes, when I am alone with my pet and smoking the hookah, I feel almost content with my life.
December 28th
I ventured out yesterday with Adelaide and a servant as bodyguard to visit some of the sights, exposing myself to the sounds and smells of this incredible country. Many of the sights are terrible; diseases such as elephantiasis (which causes the limbs to swell to monstrous size) and leprosy are very prevalent. The beggars, including small children, are often grotesquely deformed on purpose to extract money from passers-by. The wildlife is as shocking as it was in Brazil: the monstrous spiders, the small lizards constantly darting across the walls! Worst of all, very large rats are everywhere and the servants who sleep in the lower part of the house are constantly being bitten.
Compensation comes from the exotic jewellery, often made from beaten silver and semi-precious jewels which can be purchased for very little money. Adelaide has already had henna designs applied to her feet in the native manner but I forbade her from applying them to her hands. Secretly, I would like to try this custom myself, but it would outrage public opinion. Everywhere there are snake charmers and fakirs whose naked bodies are smeared with ash and mud.
These men are considered holy and often sit for years with an arm upraised until it becomes numb and withered. They mutilate themselves in gross ways to gain favour with their deities.
Chapter 33
January 5th, 1821
Our tin-lined trunks – the few we possess – are packed and we depart in two days. A new year and a new adventure.
Although we have been here only two months the servants are making a great deal of fuss, prostrating themselves and wailing as if we were their closest relatives. Everything is extreme in India, the climate, the food, the habitat and the emotions. This is part of its charm but it can also be very wearing to the Anglo temperament. In Adelaide’s words, I wish they wouldn’t take on so. Mr M has been forced to make large disbursements of rupees to them.
We are taking the horses with us although I do not know how they will fare on the journey. Indeed, I do not know if any of us will deal well with this situation, but we must join the cavalcade of soldiers, families, baggage carriers and animals, including camels and elephants. Fudge is, of course, travelling with me.
I have seen very few elephants as yet but I saw one of them in a procession painted and bedizened like one of the nautch girl dancers and wearing jewelled velvet cloths. The elephant did not appear to object to these adornments and carried its princely master respectfully. Its giant toenails were painted scarlet and its trunk gilded and painted in bright blues and greens.
I pray that the company will be large enough to keep off the wild animals that might attack us. There are tigers out there and one of the officers told me that one can hear the discreet coughing of leopar
ds in the hills at dusk. I remember hearing from one of our servants that her child had been eaten by a hyena. Oh woe!
Adelaide, Fudge and I shall travel part of the time in a closed kind of litter drawn by bullocks and at other times I will ride Byron. Mr M spent our last night watching a fight between a snake and a mongoose. He watched from the veranda as the servants gathered around the men bringing the creatures. These events are greatly enjoyed by the natives but I declined to join him and retired to my room to check on the supplies of eau de cologne. I feel I shall have great need of it.
January 20th
Dust… dust… nothing but great clouds of pink dust; we are enveloped in it on the roads. I soon gave up the litter in favour of riding, after being tossed around in the greatest discomfort. The dust settles into a grey film that covers our clothing – my riding habit, bonnet and veils. It is in our eyes and mouths and nostrils but it appears not to affect the natives very much. We have not been troubled by any wandering bands of thugs, although I do not think they generally dare to attack Europeans.
My diary entries will be few during our journey owing to the difficulty of writing anywhere at all.
March 15th
When we reached Benares, where we will stay for a few days, I was forced to leave my lovely Byron with an English officer. The rest of the journey will be accomplished on a small, wiry, native polo pony that is much better suited to the terrain.
Benares is a very holy city for the Hindus, on the banks of the great Ganges River. My senses were assaulted by the hordes of pilgrims and families bringing their dead to the burning ‘ghats’, as they call them. It is considered very favourable to die or be burned here. You will go straight to Paradise, even if you are an unbeliever. The waters of Bath cannot make such claims, although I’m sure they would if circumstances permitted.