He had come down from Satara, where he commanded, for change of air, not being well. He lived with his friend Doctor Eckford, and we frequently met them in the evenings driving out together and sometimes we met them in society, but our paths did not seem to cross. He paid no particular attention to me neither do I recollect being at all occupied about him, nor did he dine once in my father’s house till many months after we had become acquainted. My father and he had got on a sort of pleasant intimacy ages before he seemed to think of me. We used to meet generally in the mornings. We rode always, my father and 1, on the Breach Candi road, which was close to us and agreeable from its skirting the sea, and probably the breeze and the sun rise pleased our new companion, as he came a considerable distance to enjoy them. He also seemed to like political disquisitions, for he and my father rode on before deep in Catholick claims which were then being finally discussed in Parliament,1 while I had plenty to do, by myself, in managing that dreadful Donegal and watching the Parsees’ morning adoration of the sun. I had also a certain green book to reflect on; two thick volumes, handsomely bound, lent me, as well as the horse, by Mr Bax; his travels in MS., a small illegible hand and very prosy composition in which the Czar, a grand Duchess, two Archdukes, and Princes, Sultans, and Counts palatine figured in profusion.
These rides in this guise continued all the cold weather, our party latterly reinforced by my cousin John Cumming, who was staying with us, and who sometimes got twisted out of his usual place by me to the side of my father, Colonel Smith exchanging with him for a turn or two, to my father’s regret, who on these occasions observed that the Captain had inopportunely interrupted a very interesting argument on the influence of the Irish priesthood over the flocks; that poor Smith was a sad Orangeman, quite benighted, but honest and worth enlightening. It was Mr Gardiner and his radicalism over again.
So began my happy future to gleam on me, particularly after a few, half laughing, half earnest, hints from Dr Eckford, whom my Mother about this time began to talk of as Love’s messenger, and then styled roundly Cupid. Such a Cupid. Children, you have seen him, I need say no more. Cupid knew his business well. He threw shafts and bow away as unsuitable to a staid Brigadier and a maiden past her prime. His object was to touch the lady’s reason, which he did, no matter how, and the parents too, a matter effected principally by the Irish acres, warranted not to be bog. Who would have thought a marriage thus systematically arranged could have turned out so well. It took a long time for India, tho’, and while it was progressing, to the mystification of all lookers on who could not understand why it did not go on in Caesar fashion and be settled on the 3rd day, my Mother’s 1st grandchild, dear little Janie Gardiner, was born. It was my brother John’s birthday, the 23rd of November, and all the cousinhood were assembled at the Retreat to do him honour; Gregor and Mary Grant were indeed staying with us. Mr Gardiner and Mary were expected, but just before dinner they sent their excuse; she did not feel quite well. On leaving the hall a note from Mr Gardiner summoned my Mother, and after the Company departed, I set off myself, up to Prospect Lodge, mounting the long, long, dimly lighted flight of steps that led up the side of the hill without a thought of the snakes at other times I used to be nervous about.
The clock had struck 12; it was the 24th.; 5 minutes after my arrival my little niece was laid upon my knees, and I believe for weeks after I thought of no other existing creature. These Memoirs are but the fair outside, after all, a deal is hid, both as regards myself and others, that it would be painful to record and worse than useless to remember. We 3 sisters had gone thro‘ much. This blessed baby opened another view of life to all; all loved and welcomed it and leaned on it but our strange mother, who paid it very little attention, never sent for it, never asked for it, never gave it one single gift or even nursed poor Mary, Perhaps she did not like the shove back a grade; there was another generation born and she, the once beautiful wife, was a Grandmother. Somehow she never took to Mary married. She liked none of our marriages, jane’s one could understand her regretting for tho’ Colonel Pennington was rich and respected, he was old and ugly. Mr Gardiner, well connected, high in the Civil Service and with £20,000 private property, good looking, gentlemanly, clever, good and six and thirty, he was really a bit of good luck for a tocherless lass, however lang her pedigree. But she never cared for him, for her or their child while they were near her. Afterwards they were highly praised, when they were gone and she felt what they had been to her.
To me I know my baby niece was a perfect delight. All the pleasant cold weather, I walked about with it in my arms whenever it was brought to the Retreat or I could contrive a visit to Prospect Lodge. Mr Gardiner and Mary went very little into company. Before the birth of the baby Mary had been for months very suffering, first the heat and then the rains incommoded her greatly. She never took to her Indian life, never could bear the climate nor suit herself to the ways nor endure the habits nor the society—that indeed she undervalued very absurdly and in consequence of her air, she was in turn undervalued herself, so that the spirit of discontent which pervaded the atmosphere around her, quite prevented her life from being a happy one. She never took any exercise, never rose to meet the fresh air in the mornings; the evening drive was often shirked and when the pair in their hideous landaulet did set forth in sulky looking state, they shunned the general meeting place and moved along some byepath all alone. I was a thousand times happier. Our Retreat was a little pompous in some of its arrangements and the fine coach with the Chobdars was a dignified vehicle, rather. I should have preferred Mrs Dewar’s gig, for my life was dull, very lonely except just at those hours when méals, the drive or company brought my father, my Mother and myself together. So passed the months until the beginning of March brought a degree of heat again, which poor Mary felt too oppressive. I do believe the poor thing was never well, had never been well from a child and that the merest trifles affected her ill organised frame. At any rate, she was ill, and advised to try the cooler air of the higher land. So an expedition was arranged to Khandalla, a beautiful plain at the head of the pass up the Ghauts on the road to Poonah. These finely shaped, very picturesque mountains enclosed the Bay at its inner extremity, seeming to run near and round it, and to shut it in its 100 wooded islands out from the rest of the world. In reality there was a wide plain to traverse before reaching their base, and the bay to cross before reaching the plain.
As Mary would be dull alone, I was to go with her and her husband, a plan I liked. A change was pleasant, a journey in India new, life in tents! delightful.
The ugly Iandaulet conveyed the Gardiner Sahibs, their baba, and her ama or wetnurse, and a peon to the Bunder, 1, escorted by my father, proceeded thither in a queer sort of old pony carriage left especially for my use by Uncle Edward; and strange to say, for an Indian lady, I carried no attendant of any sort with me.
The luggage had gone before with the other servants and the tents. We had a sail of some hours, the scenery so beautiful, varying every moment as we scudded among the islands, then on landing, we rested, while the queer pony carriage which had come over with us was prepared to take us on; it shook us famously and tired Mary, so she took a sleep at the next bungalow, where we left it, and at dusk entered our palanquins, travelling on by torch light, a goodly train, up a steep hill, as I felt from the tilt of the palanquin, tho’ I could see nothing. At last it was level ground again, and then a short half hour brought us to our encampment.
I saw, on alighting, only a pretty, oblong room, floor matted, walls and ceiling white as usual, but ceiling domed which was not usual; lamps depending from it, and a well served table laid for dinner with every appendage we were used to elsewhere. We had a pleasant meal in spite of fatigue. Tea, as usual; and then, preceded by a torch bearer, and accompanied by the Head Servant, Mary, her Ayah, who was to wait on me, and Mr Gardiner, highly amused at our state of excitement, I retired to my own tent, which I was lucky enough to get into without entangling my feet in the tent cords. Ther
e all was in order like my own bed chamber, my own furniture, most of it, having been transported as if by magick for my use, even to the bath, some books, and the writing table.
After undressing her mistress the Ayah returned, and laid herself down near the door of my tent, inside; a peon stretched himself outside, between the tent and the curtain, and the guard, two or three strong, patrolling around, we all went to sleep as securely as tho’ our walls had been of stone instead of canvas.
Next morning, very early, I stept out to feel the cool air and look down on a gully of exquisite verdure opening out into a vast plain of beauty, spreading far away without a limit; the scene around was flat just where we were pitched, but in the distance were rising grounds, woods, and a few shrubs dotted here and there in patches; the road stretched along at a little distance. Very fine the scene was, but it was the air that was so charming. We were just on the brow of the ravine, so that we caught the breeze at once.
Any one looking up at us must have thought the little encampment a very pretty sight, the four larger tents in a semicircle in front, the rowlies for the servants behind, the horses picketted out under the only tope of trees at hand, and beside them the fire, where breakfast was preparing under the cover of the ‘cloudless sky.’
How the little baby enjoyed the morning air, sprawling almost naked on its mat after a refreshing bath. We would not let them dress it all the day, there being nobody to remark upon the simplicity of its toilette. We passed our day as usual, books and work—no healthy play, however, the middle hours being very hot, just as sultry as in Bombay, but there was not that relaxing moisture. In the evenings we drove along the road till dark. Once or twice we went as far as the wood of Lanowlie, a beautiful bit of scenery, the wood enclosing both a hill and a tank. The shade appeared to us so irresistible, the glare at our ravine being almost painful, that Mr Gardiner determined on shifting our position. So we had the diversion of moving our camp, striking our tents, packing our goods, travelling our miles, and setting all up again.
The change was delightful, the tents among the trees looked prettier than ever; the horses, in full view, so completely sheltered, were a picture; the air from the water so cool; the flowers in the wood so lovely! I went walking there as far as the creepers would let me, but their trunks and tendrils were so thick, so interlaced among the branches of the forest trees, and there were so many thorns, that in spite of the shade, and a pleasant pathway and the exquisite flowers and the verdure I could get but a little way, and I had to give up the romantick intention of a moonlight ramble therein. I therefore, spent the evening in hanging round my tent large clusters of the blue persian grape, a basket full of which I had bought from a travelling fruitseller. These grapes are extremely delicious, high flavoured, sweet, juicy, yet more of the consistency, size, and shape of a plum than we are used to in grapes. They ripen to perfection at Poonah, and if properly dried make fine raisins. Mary was busy in the same way; our work done, we went to tea, and then to bed after a visit to Janie. I thought, as I turned in to my tent, that a prettier scene had never been fancied. The bright moonlight on the water, the horses beneath the trees, the flickering fire, the white tents with the sleeping figures near them, and the watchful guard moving like dark shadows back and fore. It was gypsey life in its Sunday suit; there was something delightfully free, natural about it, and I thought to myself it would not be at all disagreeable to move thus about with a regiment, especially if one belonged to any one in high enough rank to command as many servants as my civilian brother in law.
And so, I lay me down in peace and took my rest. What waked me? A noise, which once heard can never be forgotten, a noise unlike any other sound in nature, a growl, so deep, so low, so full, so strong, that it almost paralysed sensation. It was Just at my ear; there was only a bit of canvas between me and a tiger.
Mine was a single tent, the door of it was open; the moonlight streamed in and shewed me the peon standing upright, shivering with fear, and no Ayah. ‘Hush, sahib,’ whispered the peon, ‘tis the great tiger.’
The wood of Lanowlie was known to the natives as a favourite haunt of this dreadful creature, which is worshipped by some of native tribes of the neighbourhood, and, therefore, is held too sacred to be exterminated. Not very long before our encroachment on his haunts, the post between Bombay and Poonah, a native runner had disappeared, leaving no trace beyond a fragment of turban among some bushes near the road. This came into my mind at the moment—a long one as it seemed; then came the growl again, but not so near; then the scream of the horses, I never heard a horse scream before, nor since; it is a fearful sound, and then came Mr Gardiner’s voice. Such a blessed relief. He told me not to fear, that the Tiger had only come to drink at the tank, that the array of human beings would frighten it, that we were all safe, while there were horses, goats and buffaloes to be had, and that the cords and pegs of the tents would ensure the safety of the inmates.
The Ayah, poor soul, had fled at the first alarm to her mistress to call attention to the baby. Mary was with her child in a moment. Next came firing, great firing, the muskets of the guard, Mr Gardiner’s pistols; then all the pots and pans began. Every servant seized on one and rattled and shook and beat and thumped; then they screeched and halloed and screamed; really the tiger must have been more than beast had he remained among such a din. He wisely turned and leaped away, nor did he shew again. Of course our watch and noise continued to make all sure; but he had had enough of us, and we had had enough of Lanowlie. Nothing would induce Mary to risk her precious baby near such a neighbour another day. So a messenger was despatched on the moment to have a boat ready, and at daybreak we broke up our camp in earnest and set out on our return to Bombay.
We drove to the top of the pass, got into palanquins there, and found breakfast ready for us in the bungalow at the foot of the Ghauts. These bungalows are wretched places. A single room unfurnished, bare walls, mud floor, plenty of insects, reptiles even, for scorpions are common in them; no comforts but such as the travellers themselves provided. We were glad enough, however, to find rest and shelter after the excitement of the descent, which in broad daylight gave me here and there a shudder. At one point, a sharp turn brought the side of the palanquin on the edge of a precipice that fell straight down 5 or 600 feet, with not even a bush to break the line till close to the bottom. We crossed the harbour in the afternoon, and just about dark we reached the Retreat, where, instead of sympathy, we were met with shouts of laughter for having quailed before the tiger.
My letters from Khandalla and my more vivid descriptions in conversation had quite bitten my father with a wish to change the relaxing air of the seaside for the freshness of the mountains; but he meditated a much more daring exploit than a visit to the Poonah Ghauts. Colonel Smith, who had been his constant riding companion in my absence, had inspired him with a wish to see more of the country, to try a few weeks of the Mahableishwa hills during the present hot season, when really Bombay was too oppressive. These charming hills were in our new friend’s district; he commanded the Brigade at Satara, and Mahableishwa, tho’ distant 30 miles, was included. He had been, it seems, most extremely eloquent in his descriptions of the scenery, the lights and shadows, mists, and other phenomena, and had kindly offered every assistance as to preparations, routes, encampment there, etc.
My Mother, who began to have her suspicions as to the cause of all this politeness, exhibited no wish to move. She did not feel it the least too hot where she was, nor did she like the idea of packing, moving, going in boats, in palanquins, over the sea and up precipices, to live in tents without any comforts.
My father, however, was quite taken up with the plan; Colonel Smith dined two or three days running to concoct all the plans properly, tho’ they were quickly enough arranged seemingly, for he was listening to my ballads all the evenings, and then one morning he called to take leave. He was to start early next day for Mahableishwa, where he meant to remain till the rains began, would lose no time in doing—
I forget what—choosing a spot for our tents, I believe, and would write full particulars of all we were to expect on our journey.
Preparations were accordingly begun. My father and his head Servant Nasserwanjee were closetted for hours for several days, and at last all was announced as ready. My Mother and I did nothing, the ayahs packed our clothes, taking more a great deal than we wished, but Fatima, who had travelled hundreds of miles, hundreds of times, with her former mistresses, Mesdames Hunter Blair and Baker, was not to be thwarted, and she was right; she understood ruralising in India a deal better than we did.
With the exception of our large tin cases, we seemed to have left every thing we generally used behind, for we missed nothing up to the very moment of our departure; yet we must have brought all with us, for 1, at least, never asked for a single article afterwards that was not forthcoming. They are wonderful managers, these Indian Servants.
We drove to the Fort, on to the Harbour, descended the broad steps of the ghaut, and entered a very good boat with a neat cabin in it sheltered by an awning. The sail down the coast of Malabar was very pretty indeed, the blue sea under so brightly blue a sky, wooded shores, and a background of mountains. We had room enough to move about, for only the Upper servants were with us, the rest, with the horses, the tents and other luggage, followed in our wake. Near sunset we reached Bancoote; it was quite a pleasure to climb up on our own feet, so seldom used in that country, a rather steep path to a half ruined tower on a point of rock, which was to be our resting place for the night. The view from it was very fine, over land and sea and up a river which flowed rather swiftly round the rock.
Memoirs of a Highland Lady Page 68