March 1st.– However it may mean to go out, March has come in like the quietest of lambs, and we could well do with a little more wind to help us on our course.
At noon we were off Calicut, a curious old town of nearly 50,000 inhabitants, to which belong many ancient stories and traditions. As we all know, it gives its name to that useful and familiar material – calico. This was the first point of India touched at by Vasco de Gama nearly 400 years ago, after his long voyage from Portugal. Not far from Calicut, near Mahé, a high rock rises – one of the few places in India where sea-swallows build their edible nests. Further south is Tellicherry, whence the highly appreciated cardamoms of Waima are exported. The plant (Amomum repens) which produces them is not unlike the ginger shrub in appearance, bearing small lilac-coloured flowers. Cardamoms are so indispensable in all Indian cookery that great pains are taken in their cultivation.
On the other side of the river lies Beypoor, one of the terminal stations of the Southern Indian Railway, whence it is possible to proceed by rail in almost any direction. Mysore, Bangalore, and Seringapatam can be easily reached from here; and last, though not by any means least, one can travel viâ Pothanore and Metapalliam to Ootacamund, that loveliest and healthiest of Southern hill stations in the Neilgherry Mountains, familiarly called 'Ooty.' This delightful place of refuge restores the enfeebled health of the European, and makes it possible for husband and wife, parents and children, to be spared the terrible separations incidental to a career in India; for the climate of Ootacamund is as cool and invigorating as that of England.
March 2nd.– The distance run at noon was 106 knots, the wind during the previous twenty-four hours having been stronger and more favourable.
We passed Cochin in the course of the day, but not near enough to see much of it. It must be an interesting old place, dating, like Calicut, from the ninth century, or even earlier, with inland waterways to Quilon and other ports on the Malabar coast, by delightfully smooth and sheltered backwaters, always navigable for the native boats, even in the full strength of the monsoon. Trivandaram, the capital of Travancore, is near this. The Rajah of Travancore on the occasion of the Great Exhibition of 1851 sent our Queen a most beautifully carved ivory chair, made in his own dominions, which her Majesty now uses whenever she holds a Chapter of the Order of the Garter at Windsor.
One of the bedroom stewards got a touch of sunstroke this morning, and suffered a good deal. I was, of course, very sorry for him, but could not help feeling rather annoyed, for it was entirely his own fault. The men are just like children, and will not or cannot understand the power of the sun and the danger of exposure to it. They will run up on deck bare-headed to look at some passing object, and then are surprised that they at once get a bad headache. They are all well provided with pith hats, and awnings are spread everywhere, so that one cannot feel quite as much sympathy for them as if they were sufferers in the cause of duty.
March 3rd.– An absolutely calm and uneventful day.
We are now getting towards Tuticorin, whence it is a short journey by rail to the splendid temples of Madura, or to Tinnevelly, the great missionary station of Southern India. Tanjore with its famous rock and its wonderful history, and Trichinopoly, with its temples and caves, are also easy of access.
We had hoped to have been able to pay a visit to the great temples on Rameshuwaran and Manaar, two of the islands forming what is known as Adam's Bridge, which partially connect Ceylon with the mainland; but, to our disappointment, we find that they are unapproachable from the westward, and we cannot get through the Pamban Passage, as its depth is but ten feet of water, whereas we draw thirteen. In order to reach the temples it would consequently be necessary for us to make the circuit of Ceylon, which would take far too much time. We shaped, therefore, as direct a course for Colombo as the light and variable breezes would admit of.
March 4th.– To-day was calmer and hotter than ever. At noon we had run eighty-eight knots, from which time until 8 p. m. we were in the midst of a flat oily calm, beneath a burning sun. We were, consequently, all much relieved when, in the course of the evening, fires were lighted, awnings spread, wind-sails set, and we began to make a little air for ourselves.
Sailors are amazingly like sheep in one respect; for if one does anything at all out of the ordinary course, it is ten to one that his shipmates feel bound to follow his example. Yesterday morning, for instance, after the cases of sunstroke of the day before, several of the crew reported themselves to the Doctor as sick, though, upon examination, he found that they were only suffering from the effects of a too-vivid imagination. Some medicine of a nauseous but otherwise innocent character was accordingly prescribed, with the satisfactory result that all the malades imaginaires are 'Quite well, thank you, sir,' this morning.
CHAPTER V.
COLOMBO
March 5th.– At 9.30 a. m. we dropped anchor in the harbour of Colombo, having come twelve miles under sail between noon and 11 p. m. yesterday, and ninety-eight since we began steaming.
Colombo seems to have grown and improved since we were here ten years ago. We were soon comfortably established in the new and splendid Oriental Hotel, and busy with letters and newspapers.
In the afternoon we did some necessary shopping beneath the welcome shade of the hotel arcades. Later, as soon as the air had become a little cooler, we drove along the sea-front, called Galle Face, and enjoyed the delicious sea-breeze. Everybody seemed to be out, driving, riding, or walking. In one spot officers and soldiers were playing cricket and football as energetically as if they had been on Woolwich Common.
We passed a horse-dealer's establishment, containing, beneath a long row of red shanties, a very decent-looking lot of ponies of various kinds, some of which were being trotted out for the inspection of a circle of possible purchasers. Every bungalow seemed to be provided with one or two tennis-grounds, and all had players on them. When at last, by a charming drive, we reached the formerly forsaken-looking Cinnamon Gardens, we found some lawn-tennis grounds established in their midst, as well as a fine museum surrounded by a well-kept garden. In fact, the appearance of the whole place has been completely changed since we last saw it.
On our way back we were overtaken by a funeral procession. First came two of the quaint little bullock-carts peculiar to Ceylon, drawn by the small oxen of the country, both carts being literally crammed full of people, apparently in the highest spirits. Then followed a long, low, open vehicle, rather like a greengrocer's van painted black. In the rear of the procession was another bullock-cart, fuller than ever of joyous mourners, and drawn by such a tiny animal that he seemed to be quite unable to keep up with his larger rivals, though urged to his utmost speed by the cries and shouts of the occupants of the cart. Altogether, anything more cheerful and less like one's ordinary conception of a funeral procession I never saw.
Our homeward road lay partly through jungle, the track crossing various small streams fringed with vegetation so tropical in character that each little river might have been a miniature Amazon. Presently we came to the Lotus Tank, full of handsome white double water-lilies on erect stems, with lotus-like centres, though they are not the real lotus flower. A hundred people sat down to dinner at the hotel, among whom were one or two old friends. When dinner was over we all adjourned on board the 'Sunbeam,' and later Tom took them back to their steamer, the 'Sirocco,' the largest vessel of the Messageries Maritimes fleet.
March 6th.– We were called at 4.30 a. m., to enable us to start by the seven o'clock train for Kandy. After a great bustle, we found ourselves at the station, only to be told that the time of the departure of the train had been changed to 7.35. The beauty of the journey by rail up to Kandy in the cool air of the early morning quite compensated us for the inconvenience of so early a start. A comfortable saloon carriage, with luxurious armchairs, had been attached to the train for our use, besides a well-arranged refreshment car, in