CHAPTER XII
THE LURE OF THE HILLS
A dark pall enveloped the mountains, and over Ranga Duar raged one ofthe terrifying tropical thunderstorms that signalise the rains of India.Unlike more temperate climes this land has but three Seasons. To her thedivision of the year into Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter meansnothing. She knows only the Hot Weather, the Monsoon or Rains, and theCold Weather. From November to the end of February is the pleasant timeof dry, bright, and cool days, with nights that register from three tosixteen degrees of frost in the plains of Central and Northern India.In the Himalayas the snow lies feet deep. The popular idea thatHindustan is always a land of blazing sun and burning heat is entirelywrong. But from March to the end of June it certainly turns itself intoa hell of torment for the luckless mortals that cannot fly from theparched plains to the cool mountains. Then from the last days of June,when the Monsoon winds bring up the moisture-laden clouds from theoceans on the south-west of the peninsula, to the beginning or middleof October, India is the Kingdom of Rain. From the grey sky it fallsdrearily day and night. Outside, the thirsty soil drinks it up gladly.Green things venture timidly out of the parched earth, then shoot up asrapidly as the beanstalk of the fairy tale. But inside houses dampnessreigns. Green fungus adorns boots and all things of leather, tobaccoreeks with moisture, and the white man scratches himself and curses theplague of prickly heat.
But while tens of thousands of Europeans and hundreds of millions ofnatives suffer greatly in the tortures of Heat and Wet for eight wearymonths of the year in the Plains of India, up in the magic realm of theHills, in the pleasure colonies like Simla, Mussourie, Naini Tal,Darjeeling, and Ootacamund, existence during those same months is one longspell of gaiety and comfort for the favoured few. These hill-stations makelife in India worth living for the lucky English women and men who can takerefuge in them. And incidentally they are responsible for more domesticunhappiness in Anglo-Indian households than any other cause. It is saidthat while in the lower levels of the land many roads lead to the DivorceCourt, in the Hills _all_ do.
For wives must needs go alone to the hill-stations, as a rule. India is nota country for idlers. Every white man in it has work to do, otherwise hewould not be in that land at all. Husbands therefore cannot alwaysaccompany their spouses to the mountains, and, when they do, can rarelycontrive to remain there for six months or longer of the Season.Consequently the wives are often very lonely in the big hotels that aboundon the hill-tops, and sometimes drift into dependence on bachelors on leavefor daily companionship, for escort to the many social functions, forregular dancing partners. And so trouble is bred.
Major Dermot was no lover of these mountain Capuas of Hindustan, and hadgladly escaped from Simla, chiefest of them all. Yet now he sat in hislittle stone bungalow in Ranga Duar, while the terrific thunder crashed androared among the hills, and read with a pleased smile an official letterordering him to proceed forthwith to Darjeeling--as gay a pleasure colonyas any--to meet the General Commanding the Division, who was visiting theplace on inspection duty. For the same post had brought him a letter fromNoreen Daleham which told him that she was then, and had been for sometime, in that hill-station.
The climate of the Terai, unpleasantly but not unbearably hot in the summermonths, is pestilential and deadly during the rains, when malaria and themore dreaded black-water fever take toll of the strongest. Noreen hadsuffered in health in the hot weather, and her brother was seriouslyconcerned at the thought of her being obliged to remain in Malpurathroughout the Monsoon. He could not take her to the Hills; it wasimpossible for him to absent himself even for a few days from the garden,for the care and management of it was devolving more and more every day onhim, owing to the intemperate habits of Parry.
Fred Daleham's relief was great when his sister unexpectedly received aletter from a former school-friend who two years before had married a manin the Indian Civil Service. Noreen, who was a good deal her junior, hadcorresponded regularly with her, and she now wrote to say that she wasgoing to Darjeeling for the Season and suggested that Noreen should joinher there. Much as the prospect of seeing a friend whom she had idolised,appealed to the girl (to say nothing of the gaieties of a hill-station andthe pleasure of seeing shops, real shops, again), she was neverthelessunwilling to leave her brother. But Fred insisted on her going.
From Darjeeling she told Dermot in a long and chatty epistle all hersensations and experiences in this new world. It was her first real letterto him, although she had written him a few short notes from Malpura. It wasinteresting and clever, without any attempt to be so, and Dermot wassurprised at the accuracy of her judgment of men and things and thevividness of her descriptions. He noticed, moreover, that the socialgaieties of Darjeeling did not engross her. She enjoyed dancing, but themany balls, At Homes, and other social functions did not attract her somuch as the riding and tennis, the sight-seeing, the glimpses of thestrange and varied races that fill the Darjeeling bazaar, and, above all,the glories of the superb scenery where the ice-crowned monarch of allmountains, Kinchinjunga, forty miles away--though not seeming five--andtwenty-nine thousand feet high, towers up above the white line of theEternal Snows.
Dermot was critically pleased with the letter. Few men--and he least ofall--care for an empty-headed doll whose only thoughts are of dress andfashionable entertainments. He liked the girl for her love of sport andaction, for her intelligence, and the interest she took in the variednative life around her. He was almost tempted to think that her letterbetrayed some desire for his companionship in Darjeeling, for in it sheconstantly wondered what he would think of this, what he would say of that.
But he put the idea from him, though he smiled as he re-read his orders andthought of her surprise when she saw him in Darjeeling. Would she really bepleased to meet her friend of the jungle in the gay atmosphere of apleasure colony? Like most men who are not woman-hunters he set a verymodest value on himself and did not rate highly his power of attraction forthe opposite sex. Therefore, he thought it not unlikely that the girl mightconsider him as a desirable enough acquaintance for the forest but a borein a ballroom. In this he was unjust to her.
He was surprised to discover that he looked forward with pleasure to seeingher again, for women as a rule did not interest him. Noreen was the firstwhom he had met that gave him the feeling of companionship, of comradeship,that he experienced with most men. She was not more clever, more talented,or better educated than most English girls are, but she had the capacity oftaking interest in many things outside the ordinary range of topics. Aboveall, she inspired him with the pleasant sense of "chum-ship," than whichthere is no happier, more durable bond of union between a man and a woman.
The Season brought the work in which Dermot was engaged to a standstill,and, keen lover of sport as he was, he was not tempted to risk thefevers of the jungle. Life in the small station of Ranga Duar was dullindeed. Day and night the rain rattled incessantly on the iron roofsof the bungalows--six or eight inches in twenty-four hours being notunusual. Thunderstorms roared and echoed among the hills for twenty orthirty hours at a stretch. All outdoor work or exercise was impossible.The outpost was nearly always shrouded in dense mist. Insect pestsabounded. Scorpions and snakes invaded the buildings. Outside, fromevery blade of grass, every leaf and twig, a thin and hungry leech wavedits worm-like, yellow-striped body in the air, seeming to scent anyapproaching man or beast on which it could fasten and gorge itself fatwith blood. Certainly a small station on the face of the Himalayas isnot a desirable place of residence during the rains, and to personsof melancholy temperament would be conducive to suicide or murder.Fortunately for themselves the two white men in Ranga Duar took lifecheerily and were excellent friends.
* * * * *
By this time Noreen considered herself quite an old resident of Darjeeling.But she had felt the greatest reluctance to go when her brother had helpedher into the dogcart for the long drive to the railway. Fred was unable totake her even a
s far as the train, for his manager had one of his periodicattacks of what was euphemistically termed his "illness." But Chunerbuttyvolunteered to escort Noreen to the hills, as he had been summoned again tohis sick father's side, the said parent being supposed to be in attendanceon his Rajah who had taken a house in Darjeeling for the season. As amatter of fact his worthy progenitor had never left Lalpuri. However,Daleham knew nothing of that, and, being empowered to do so when Parry wasincapacitated, gladly gave him permission to go and gratefully accepted hisoffer to look after the girl on the journey.
Noreen would much have preferred going alone, but her brother refused toentertain the idea. Although she knew nothing of the suspicions of herBengali friend entertained by Dermot, she sensed a certain disapproval onhis part of Fred's and her intimacy with Chunerbutty, and it affected herfar more than did the open objection of the other planters to the Hindu.Besides, she was gradually realising the existence of the "colour bar,"illiberal as she considered it to be. But it will always exist, dormantperhaps but none the less alive in the bosoms of the white peoples. It isNature herself who has planted it there, in order to preserve theseparation of the races that she has ordained. So Noreen, though she hatedherself for it, felt that she would rather go all the way alone than travelwith the Hindu.
The thirty miles' drive to the station of the narrow-gauge branch railwaywhich would convey them to the main line did not seem long. For severalplanters who resided near her road had laid a _dak_ for her, that is, hadarranged relays of ponies at various points of the way to enable thejourney to be performed quickly. Noreen's heavy luggage had gone on aheadby bullock cart two days before, so the pair travelled light.
After her long absence from civilisation the diminutive engine andcarriages of the narrow-gauge railway looked quite imposing, and itseemed to the girl strange to be out of the jungle when the toy trainslid from the forest into open country, through the rice-fields and bythe trim palm-thatched villages nestling among giant clumps of bamboo.
In the evening the train reached the junction where Noreen and Chunerbuttyhad to transfer to the Calcutta express, which brought them early nextmorning to Siliguri, the terminus of the main line at the foot of thehills, whence the little mountain-railway starts out on its seven thousandfeet climb up the Himalayas.
Out of the big carriages of the express the passengers tumbled reluctantlyand hurried half asleep to secure their seats in the quaint opencompartments of the tiny train. White-clad servants strapped up theiremployers' bedding--for in India the railway traveller must bring his ownwith him--and collected the luggage, while the masters and mistressescrowded into the refreshment room for _chota hazri_, or early breakfast.Noreen was unpleasantly aware of the curious and semi-hostile looks cast ather and her companion by the other Europeans, particularly the ladies, forthe sight of an English girl travelling with a native is not regarded withfriendly eyes by English folk in India.
But she forgot this when the toy train started. As they climbed higher thevegetation grew smaller and sparser, until it ceased altogether and theline wound up bare slopes. And as they rose they left the damp heat behindthem, and the air grew fresher and cooler.
The train twisted among the mountains and crawled up their steep sides on aline that wound about in bewildering fashion, in one place looping the loopcompletely in such a way that the engine was crossing a bridge from underwhich the last carriage was just emerging. Noreen delighted in the journey.She chatted gaily with her companion, asking him questions about anythingthat was new to her, and striving to ignore the looks of curiosity, pity,or disgust cast at her by the other European passengers, among whomspeculation was rife as to the relationship between the pair.
The leisurely train took plenty of time to recover its breath when itstopped at the little wayside stations, and many of its occupants got outto stretch their legs. Two of them, Englishmen, strolled to the end of theplatform at a halt. One, a tall, fair man, named Charlesworth, a captain ina Rifle battalion quartered in Lebong, the military suburb of Darjeeling,remarked to his companion:
"I wonder who is the pretty, golden-haired girl travelling with thatnative. How the deuce does she come to be with him? She can't be his wife."
"You never know," replied the other, an artillery subaltern named Turner."Many of these Bengali students in London marry their landladies' daughtersor girls they've picked up in the street, persuading the wretched women bytheir lies that they are Indian princes. Then they bring them out here toherd with a black family in a little house in the native quarter."
"Yes; but that girl is a lady," answered Charlesworth impatiently. "I heardher speak on the platform at Siliguri."
"She certainly looks all right," admitted his friend. "Smart andwell-turned out, too. But one can never tell nowadays."
"Let's stroll by her carriage and get a nearer view of her," saidCharlesworth.
As they passed the compartment in which Noreen was seated, the girl'sattention was attracted by two gaily-dressed Sikkimese men with stripedpetticoats and peacocks' feathers stuck in their flowerpot-shaped hats, whocame on to the platform.
"Oh, Mr. Chunerbutty, look at those men!" she said eagerly. "What arethey?"
The Hindu had got out and was standing at the door of the compartment.
"Did you notice that?" said Charlesworth, when he and Turner had got beyondearshot. "She called him Mr. Something-or-other."
"Yes; deuced glad to hear it, too," replied the gunner. "I'd hate to see awhite woman, especially an English lady, married to a native. I wonder howthat girl comes to be travelling with the beggar at all."
"I'd like to meet her," said Charlesworth, who was returning from ten days'leave in Calcutta. "If I ever do, I'll advise her not to go travellingabout with a black man. I suppose she's just out from England and knows nobetter."
"She'd probably tell you to mind your own business," observed his friend."Hullo! it looks as if the engine-driver is actually going to get a move onthis old hearse. Let's go aboard."
More spiteful comments were made on Noreen by the Englishwomen on thetrain, and the girl could not help remarking their contemptuous glances ather and her escort.
When the train ran into the station at Darjeeling she saw her friend, IdaSmith, waiting on the platform for her. As the two embraced and kissed eachother effusively Charlesworth muttered to Turner:
"It's all right, old chap. I'll be introduced to that girl before this timetomorrow, you bet. I know her friend. She's from the Bombay side--wife ofone of the Heaven Born."
By this lofty title are designated the members of the Indian Civil Serviceby lesser mortals, such as army officers--who in return are contemptuouslytermed "brainless military popinjays" by the exalted caste.
Their greeting over, Noreen introduced Chunerbutty to Ida, who noddedfrigidly and then turned her back on him.
"Now, dear, point out your luggage to my servant and he'll look after itand get it up to the hotel. Oh, how do you do, Captain Charlesworth?"
The Rifleman, determined to lose no time in making Noreen's acquaintance,had come up to them.
"I had quite a shock, Mrs. Smith, when I saw you on the platform, for I wasafraid that you were leaving us and had come to take the down train."
"Oh, no; I am only here to meet a friend," she replied. "Have you justarrived by this train? Have you been away?"
Charlesworth laughed and replied:
"What an unkind question, Mrs. Smith! It shows that I haven't been missed.Yes, I've been on ten days' leave to Calcutta."
"How brave of you at this time of year! It must have been somethingvery important that took you there. Have you been to see your tailor?"Then, without giving him time to reply, she turned to Noreen. "Let meintroduce Captain Charlesworth, my dear. Captain Charlesworth, this isMiss Daleham, an old school-friend, who has come up to keep me company.We poor hill-widows are so lonely."
The Rifleman held out his hand eagerly to the girl.
"How d'you do, Miss Daleham? I hope you've come up for the
Season."
"Yes, I think so," she replied. "It's a very delightful change from downbelow. This is my first visit to a hill-station."
"Then you'll be sure to enjoy it. Are you going to theLieutenant-Governor's ball on Thursday?"
"I don't suppose so. I don't know anything about it," she replied."You see, I've only just arrived."
"You are, dear," said Ida. "I told Captain Craigie, one of the A.D.C.'s,that you were coming up, and he sent me your invitation with mine."
"Oh, how jolly!" exclaimed the girl. "I do hope I'll get some partners."
"Please accept me as one," said Charlesworth. Then he tactfully added toIda, "I hope you'll spare me a couple of dances, Mrs. Smith."
"With pleasure, Captain Charlesworth," she replied. "But do come and see usbefore then."
"I shall be delighted to. By the way, are you going to the gymkhana on thepolo-ground tomorrow?"
"Yes, we are."
Charlesworth turned to Noreen.
"In that case, Miss Daleham, perhaps you'll be good enough to nominate mefor some of the events. As you have only just got here you won't have beensnapped up yet by other fellows. I know it's hopeless to expect Mrs. Smithnot to be."
Ida smiled, well pleased at the flattery, although, as a matter of fact, noone had yet asked her to nominate him.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do," answered Noreen. "I've never beento a gymkhana in India. I haven't seen or ridden in any, except atHurlingham and Ranelagh."
Charlesworth made a mental note of this. If the girl had taken part ingymkhanas at the London Clubs she must be socially all right, he thought.
"They're just the same," he said. "In England they've only copied India inthese things. Have you brought your habit with you?"
"Yes; Mrs. Smith told me in her letters that I could get riding up here."
"Good. I've got a ripping pony for a lady. I'll raise a saddle for yousomewhere, and we'll enter for some of the affinity events."
The girl's eyes sparkled.
"Oh, how delightful. Could I do it, Ida?"
"Yes, certainly, dear."
"I should love to. It's very kind of you, Captain Charlesworth. Thank youever so much. It will be splendid. I hope I shan't disgrace you."
"I'm sure you won't. I'll call for you and bring you both down to Lebong ifI may, Mrs. Smith."
"Will you lunch with us then?" asked Ida. "You know where I am staying--theWoodbrook Hotel. Noreen is coming there too."
"Thank you, I'll be delighted," replied the Rifleman.
"Very well. One o'clock sharp. Now we'll say good-bye for the present."
Charlesworth shook hands with both ladies and strode off in triumph towhere Turner was awaiting him impatiently.
"Now, dear, we'll go," said Ida. "I have a couple of _dandies_ waiting forus."
"_Dandies_?" echoed the girl in surprise. "What do you mean?"
The older woman laughed.
"Oh, not dandies like Captain Charlesworth. These are chairs in whichcoolies carry you. In Darjeeling you can't drive. You must go in_dandies_, or rickshas, unless you ride. Here, Miguel! Have you got themissie _baba's_ luggage?" This to her Goanese servant.
"Yes, _mem sahib_. All got," replied the "boy," a native Christian with thehigh sounding name of Miguel Gonsalves Da Costa from the Portugese Colonyof Goa on the West Coast of India below Bombay. In his tweed cap and suitof white ducks he did not look as imposing as the Hindu or Mohammedanbutlers of other Europeans on the platform with their long-skirted whitecoats, coloured _kamarbands_, and big _puggris_, or turbans, with theiremployers' crests on silver brooches pinned in the front. But Goaneseservants are excellent and much in demand in Bombay.
"All right. You bring to hotel _jeldi_ (quickly). Come along, Noreen," saidMrs. Smith, walking off and utterly ignoring the Hindu engineer who hadstood by unnoticed all this time with rage in his heart.
Noreen, however, turned to him and said:
"What are you going to do, Mr. Chunerbutty? Where are you staying?"
"I am going to my father at His Highness's house," he replied. "I shouldnot be very welcome at your hotel or to your friends, Miss Daleham."
"Oh, of course you would," replied the girl, feeling sorry for him butuncertain what to say. "Will you come and see me tomorrow?"
"You forget. You are going to the gymkhana with that insolent Englishofficer."
"Now don't be unjust. I'm sure Captain Charlesworth wasn't at all insolent.But I forgot the gymkhana. You could come in the morning. Yet, perhaps, Imay have to go out calling with Mrs. Smith," she said doubtfully. "And howselfish of me! You have your own affairs to see to. I do hope that you'llfind your father much better."
"Thank you. I hope so."
"Do let me know how he is. Send me a _chit_ (letter) if you have time. I amanxious to hear. Now I must thank you ever so much for your kindness inlooking after me on the journey. I don't know what I'd have done withoutyou."
"It was nothing. But you had better go. Your haughty friend is looking backfor you, angry that you should stop here talking to a native," he saidbitterly.
Ida was beckoning to her; even at that distance they could see that she wasimpatient. So Noreen could only reiterate her thanks to the Hindu and hurryafter her friend, who said petulantly when she came up:
"I do wish you hadn't travelled up with that Indian, Noreen. It isn't nicefor an English girl to be seen with one, and it will make people talk. Thewomen here are such cats."
Noreen judged it best to make no reply, but followed her irate friend insilence. Their _dandies_ were waiting outside the station, and as the girlgot into hers and was lifted up and carried off by the sturdy coolies onwhose shoulders the poles rested, she thought with a thrill of the lastoccasion on which she had been borne in a chair.
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