by F. Anstey
CHAPTER I
FROM CALCUTTA TO CAMBRIDGE OVERSEA ROUTE
At sea the stoutest stomach jerks, Far, far away from native soil, When Ocean's heaving waterworks Burst out in Brobdingnagian boil!
_Stanza written at Sea, by H. B. J. (unpublished)._
The waves of Neptune erected their seething and angry crests toincredible altitudes; overhead in fuliginous storm-clouds the thunderrumbled its terrific bellows, and from time to time the ghastly flare oflightning illuminated the entire neighbourhood. The tempest howled likea lost dog through the cordage of the good ship _Rohilkund_ (Captain O.Williams), which lurched through the vasty deep as though overtaken bythe drop too much.
At one moment her poop was pointed towards celestial regions; at anotherit aimed itself at the recesses of Davey Jones's locker; and such wasthe fury of the gale that only a paucity of the ship's passengersremained perpendicular, and Mr Chunder Bindabun Bhosh was recumbent onhis beam end, prostrated by severe sickishness, and hourly expecting tobecome initiated in the Great Secret.
Bitterly did he lament his hard lines in venturing upon the Black Water,to be snipped off in the flower of his adolescence, and never again tobehold the beloved visages of his relations!
So heartrending were his tears and groans that they moved all on board,and Honble Mr Commissioner Copsey, who was returning on leave, kindlycame to inquire the cause of such vociferous lachrymation.
"What is the matter, Baboo?" began the Commissioner in paternal tones."Why are you kicking up the shindy of such a deuce's own hullabaloo?"
"Because, honble Sir," responded Mr Bhosh, "I am in lively expectationthat waters will rush in and extinguish my vital spark."
"Pooh!" said Mr Commissioner, genially. "This is only the moiety of agale, and there is not the slightest danger."
Having received this assurance, Mr Bhosh's natural courage revived, and,coming up on deck, he braved the tempest with the cool composure of acucumber, admonishing all his fellow-passengers that they were not togive way to panic, seeing that Death was the common lot of all, and,though everyone must die once, it was an experience that could not berepeated, with much philosophy of a similar kind which astonished manywho had falsely supposed him to be a pusillanimous.
The remainder of the voyage was uneventful, and, soon after setting hisfeet on British territory, Mr Bhosh became an alumnus and undergraduateof the _Alma Mater_ of Cambridge.
I shall not attempt to relate at any great length the history of hiscollegiate career, because, being myself a graduate of CalcuttaUniversity, I am not, of course, proficient in the customs andetiquettes of any rival seminaries, and should probably make one or twotrivial slips which would instantly be pounced upon and held up forderision by carping critics.
So I shall content myself with mentioning a few leading facts andincidents. Mr Bhosh very soon wormed himself into the good graces of hisfellow college boys, and his principal friend and _fidus Achates_ was ayoung high-spirited aristocrat entitled Lord Jack Jolly, the only son ofan earl who had lately been promoted to the dignity of a baronetcy.
Lord Jolly and Mr Bhosh were soon as inseparable as a Daemon andPythoness, and, though no nabob to wallow in filthy lucre, Mr Bhosh gavefrequent entertainments to his friends, who were hugely delighted bythe elegance of his hospitality and the garrulity of his conversation.
Unfortunately the fame of these Barmecide feasts soon penetrated theears of the College _gurus_, and Mr Bhosh's _Moolovee_ sent for him andseverely reprimanded him for neglecting to study for his Little-godegree, and squandering his immense abilities and talents on mereguzzling.
Whereupon Mr Bhosh shed tears of contrition, embracing the feet of hissenile tutor, and promising that, if only he was restored to favour hewould become more diligent in future.
And honourably did he fulfil this _nudum pactum_, for he became a mostexemplary bookworm, burning his midnight candle at both ends in theendeavour to cram his mind with _belles lettres_.
But he was assailed by a temptation which I cannot forbear to chronicle.One evening as he was poring over his learned tomes, who should arrivebut a deputation of prominent Cambridge boatmen and athletics, toentreat him to accept a stroke oar of the University eight in theforthcoming race with Oxford College!
This, as all aquatics will agree, was no small compliment--particularlyto one who was so totally unversed in wielding the flashing oar. But theauthorities had beheld him propelling a punt boat with marvellousdexterity by dint of a paddle, and, taking the length of his foot onthat occasion, they had divined a Hercules and ardently desired him as aconfederate.
Mr Bhosh was profoundly moved: "College misters and friends," he said,"I welcome this invitation with a joyful and thankful heart, as anhonour--not to this poor self, but to Young India. Nevertheless, I amcompelled by _Dira Necessitas_ to return the polite negative. Gladly Iwould help you to inflict crushing defeat upon our presumptuous foe, but'I see a hand you cannot see that beckons me away; I hear a voice youcannot hear that wheezes "Not to-day!"' In other words, gentlemen, I amnow actively engaged in the Titanic struggle to floor Little-go. It isglorious to obtain a victory over Oxonian rivals, but, misters, there isan enemy it is still more glorious to pulverize, and that enemyis--one's self!"
The deputation then withdrew with falling crests, though unable torefrain from admiring the firmness and fortitude which a mere Nativestudent had nilled an invitation which to most European youths wouldhave proved an irresistible attraction.
Nor did they cherish any resentment against Mr Bhosh, even when, in thefamous inter-collegiate race of that year from Hammersmith to Putney,Cambridge was ingloriously bumped, and Oxford won in a common canter.