CHAPTER THE TENTH
*In which our hero arrives in the Golden East; and Mr. Diggle presentshim to a native prince.*
About midday a light breeze sprang up from the north-west. The twoIndiamen and the uninjured grab, being the first to catch it, gained afull mile before the _Good Intent_, under topgallant sails, studdingsails, royal and driver, began to slip through the water at her bestspeed. But, as the previous day's experience had proved, she was nomatch in sailing capacity for the pursuers. They gained on hersteadily, and the grab had come almost within cannon-range when the manat the mast-head shouted:
"Sail ho! About a dozen sail ahead, sir!"
The captain spluttered out a round dozen oaths, and his dark face grewstill darker. So many vessels in company must surely mean the King'sships with a convoy. The French, so far as Captain Barker knew, had nosuch fleet in Indian waters, nor had the Dutch or Portuguese. If theywere indeed British men-o'-war he would be caught between two fires, forthere was not a doubt that they would support the Company's vessels.
"We ought to be within twenty miles o' the coast, Mr. Toley," saidCaptain Barker.
"Ay, sir, and somewhere in the latitude of Gheria."
"Odds bobs, and now I come to think of it, those there vessels may besailing to attack Gheria, seeing as how, as these niggers told us,they've bust up Suvarndrug."
"Guess I'll get to the foretop myself and take a look, sir," said Mr.Toley.
He mounted, carrying the only perspective glass the vessel possessed.The captain watched him anxiously as he took a long look.
"What do you make of 'em?" he shouted.
The mate shut up the telescope and came leisurely down.
"I count fifteen in all, sir."
"I don't care how many. What are they?"
"I calculate they're grabs and gallivats, sir."
The captain gave a hoarse chuckle.
"By thunder, then, we'll soon turn the tables! Angria's gallivats--eh,Mr. Toley? We'll make a haul yet."
But Captain Barker was to be disappointed. The fleet had been descriedalso by the pursuers. A few minutes later the grab threw out a signal,hauled her wind and stood away to the northward, followed closely by thetwo larger vessels. The captain growled his disappointment. Nearly adozen of the coast craft, as they were now clearly seen to be, went inpursuit, but with little chance of coming up with the chase. Theremaining vessels of the newly-arrived fleet stood out to meet the _GoodIntent_.
"Fetch up that Maratha fellow," cried the captain, "and hoist a whiteflag."
When the Maratha appeared, a pitiable object, emaciated from want offood, Captain Barker bade him shout as soon as the newcomers came withinhailing distance. The white flag at the mast-head, and a loud long-drawnhail from Hybati, apprised the grab that the _Good Intent_ was no enemy,and averted hostilities. And thus it was, amid a convoy of Angria's ownfleet, that Captain Barker's vessel, a few hours later, sailedpeacefully into the harbour of Gheria.
Desmond looked with curious eyes on the famous fort and harbour. On theright, as the _Good Intent_ entered, he saw a long narrow promontory, atthe end of which was a fortress, constructed, as it appeared, of solidrock. The promontory was joined to the mainland by a narrow isthmus ofsand, beyond which lay an open town of some size. The shore was fringedwith palmyras, mangoes and other tropical trees, and behind the strawhuts and stone buildings of the town leafy groves clothed the sides of agentle hill. The harbour, which formed the mouth of a river, wasstudded with Angria's vessels, large and small, and from the dockssituated on the sandy isthmus came the busy sound of shipwrights atwork. The rocky walls of the fort were fifty feet high, with roundtowers, long curtains, and some fifty embrasures. The left shore of theharbour was flat, but to the south of the fort rose a hill of the sameheight as the walls of rock. Such was the headquarters of the notoriouspirate Tulaji Angria, the last of the line which had for fifty yearsbeen the terror of the Malabar coast.
The _Good Intent_ dropped anchor off the jetty running out from thedocks north of the fort. Captain Barker had already given orders thatno shore leave was to be allowed to the crew, and as soon as he hadstepped into the long-boat, accompanied by Diggle, the men's discontentbroke forth in angry imprecations, which Mr. Toley wisely affected notto hear.
No time was lost in unloading the portion of the cargo intended forAngria. The goods were carried along the jetty by stalwart Marathasclad only in loin-cloths, to be stored in rude cabins with penthouseroofs. As Desmond knew, the heavy chests that taxed the strength of thebearers contained for the most part muskets and ammunition. The workwent on for the greater part of the day, and at nightfall neither thecaptain nor Diggle had returned to the vessel.
Next day a large quantity of Indian produce was taken on board. Desmondnoticed that as the bales and casks reached the deck, some of the crewwere told off to remove all marks from them.
"What's that for?" repeated Bulger, in reply to a question of Desmond's."Why, 'cos if the ship came to be overhauled by a Company's vessel, itwould tell tales if the cargo had Company's marks on it. That wouldn'tdo by no manner o' means."
"But how should they get Company's marks on them?"
Bulger winked.
"You're raw yet, Burke," he said. "You'll know quite as much as is goodfor you by the time you've made another voyage or two in the _GoodIntent_."
"But I don't intend to make another voyage in her. Mr. Diggle promisedto get me employment in the country."
"What? You still believes in that there Diggle? Well, I don't want tohurt no feelin's, and I may be wrong, but I'll lay my bottom dollarDiggle won't do a hand's turn for you."
The second day passed, and in the evening Captain Barker, who hadhitherto left Mr. Toley in charge, came aboard in high good humour.
"I may be wrong," remarked Bulger, "but judgin' by cap'n's face, he'vebeen an' choused the Pirate--got twice the vally o' the goods he'slanded."
"I wonder where Mr. Diggle is?" said Desmond.
"You en't no call to mourn for him, I tell you. He's an old friend ofthe Pirate, don't make no mistake; neither you nor me will be any theworse for not seein' his grinnin' phiz no more. Thank your stars he'veleft you alone for the last part of the voyage, which I wonder at, allthe same."
Next day all was bustle on board in preparation for sailing. In theafternoon a peon[#] came hurrying along the jetty, boarded the vessel,and handed a note to the captain, who read it, tore it up, and dismissedthe messenger. He went down to his cabin, and coming up a few minuteslater, cried:
[#] Messenger.
"Where's that boy Burke?"
"Here, sir," cried Desmond, starting up from the place where, inBulger's company, he had been splicing a rope.
"Idling away your time as usual, of course. Here, take this chit[#] andrun ashore. 'Tis for Mr. Diggle, as you can see if you can read."
[#] Note.
"But how am I to find him, sir?"
"Hang me, that's your concern. Find him, and give the chit into his ownhand, and be back without any tomfoolery, or by thunder I'll lay a ropeacross your shoulders."
Desmond took the note, left the vessel, and hurried along the jetty.After what Bulger had said he was not very well pleased at the prospectof meeting Diggle again. At the shore end of the jetty he was accostedby the peon who had brought Diggle's note on board. The man intimatedby signs that he would show the way, and Desmond, wondering why theIndian had not himself waited to receive Captain Barker's answer,followed him at a rapid pace on shore, past the docks, through a cornerof the town, where the appearance of a white stranger attracted thecurious attention of the natives, to an open space in front of theentrance to the fort. Here they arrived at a low wall cut by an opengateway, at each side of which stood a Maratha sentry armed with amatchlock. A few words were exchanged between Desmond's guide and one ofthe sentries; the two entered, crossed a compound dotted with trees, andpassing through the principal gateway came to a large square b
uildingnear the centre of the fort. The door of this was guarded by a sentry.Again a few words were spoken. Desmond fancied he saw a slight smilecurl the lips of the natives; then the sentry called another peon whostood at hand, and sent him into the palace.
Desmond felt a strange sinking at heart. The smile upon these darkfaces awakened a vague uneasiness; it was so like Diggle's smile. Hesupposed that the man had gone in to report that he had arrived with thecaptain's answer. The note still remained with him; the Marathasapparently knew that it was to be delivered personally; yet he was leftat the door, and his guide stood by in an attitude that suggested he wason guard.
How long was he to be kept waiting? he wondered. Captain Barker hadordered him to return at once; the penalty for disobedience he knew onlytoo well; yet the minutes passed, and lengthened into two hours withoutany sign of the man who had gone in with the message. Desmond spoke tohis guide, but the man shook his head, knowing no English. Becomingmore and more uneasy, he was at length relieved to see the messengercome back to the door and beckon him to enter. As he passed thesentries they made him a salaam in which his anxious sensitivenessdetected a shade of mockery; but before he could define his feelings hereached a third door guarded like the others, and was ushered in.
He found himself in a large chamber, its walls dazzling with barbaricdecoration--figures of Ganessa, a favourite idol of the Marathas, ofmonstrous elephants, and peacocks with enormously expanded tails. Thehall was so crowded that his first confusion was redoubled. A path wasmade through the throng as at a signal, and at the end of the room hesaw two men apart from the rest. One of them, standing a little backfrom the other, was Diggle; the other, a tall, powerful figure inraiment as gaudy as the painted peacocks around him, his fingers coveredwith rings, a diamond blazing in his headdress, was sitting cross-leggedon a dais. Behind him, against the wall, was an image of Ganessa, madeof solid gold, with diamonds for eyes, and blazing with jewels. At oneside was his hookah, at the other a two-edged sword and an unsheatheddagger. Below the dais on either hand two fierce-visaged Marathasstood, their heads and shoulders covered with a helmet, their bodiescased in a quilted vest, each holding a straight two-edged sword.Between Angria and the idol two fan-bearers lightly swept the air abovetheir lord's head with broad fans of palm leaves.
Desmond walked towards the dais, feeling wofully out of place amid thebrilliant costumes of Angria's court. Scarcely two of the Marathas weredressed alike; some were in white, some in lilac, others in purple, buteach with ornaments after his own taste. Desmond had not had timebefore leaving the _Good Intent_ to smarten himself up, and he stoodthere a tall, thin, sunburnt youth in dirty, tattered garments, doinghis best to face the assembly with British courage. At the foot of thedais he paused and held out the captain's note. Diggle took it insilence, his face wearing the smile that Desmond knew so well and now sofully distrusted. Without reading it, he tore it in fragments and threwthem upon the floor, at the same time saying a few words to theresplendent figure at his side.
Tulaji Angria was dark, inclined to be fat, and not unpleasant infeature. But it was with a scowling brow that he replied to Diggle.Desmond was no coward, but he afterwards confessed that as he stoodthere watching the two faces, the dark lowering face of Angria, thesmiling, scarcely less swarthy face of Diggle, he felt his knees trembleunder him. What was the Pirate saying? That he was the subject oftheir conversation was plain from the glances thrown at him; that he wasat a crisis in his fate he knew by instinct; but, ignorant of the tonguethey spoke, he could but wait in fearful anxiety and mistrust.
He learnt afterwards the purport of the talk.
"That is your man!" said Angria. "You have deceived me. I looked for aman of large stature and robust make, like the Englishmen I alreadyhave. What good will this slim, starved stripling be in my barge?"
"You must not be impatient, huzur[#]," replied Diggle. "He is astripling, it is true; slim, certainly; starved--well, the work on boardship does not tend to fatten a man. But give him time; he is butsixteen or seventeen years old, young in my country. In a year or two,under your regimen, he will develop; he comes of a hardy stock, andalready he can make himself useful. He was one of the quickest andhandiest on board our ship, though this was his first voyage."
[#] Lord.
"But you yourself admit that he is not yet competent for the oar in mybarge. What is to recompense me for the food he will eat while he isgrowing? No, Diggle sahib, if I take him I must have some allowance offthe price. In truth, I will not take him unless you send me from yourvessel a dozen good muskets. That is my word."
"Still, huzur----" began Diggle, but Angria cut him short with a gestureof impatience.
"That is my word, I say. Shall I, Tulaji Angria, dispute with you? Iwill have twenty muskets, or you may keep the boy."
Diggle shrugged and smiled.
"Very well, huzur. You drive a hard bargain; but it shall be as yousay. I will send a chit to the captain, and you shall have the musketsbefore the ship sails."
Angria made a sign to one of his attendants. The man approachedDesmond, took him by the sleeve, and signed to him to come away.Desmond threw a beseeching look at Diggle, and said hurriedly:
"Mr. Diggle, please tell me----"
But Angria rose to his feet in wrath, and shouted to the man who hadDesmond by the sleeve. Desmond made no further resistance. His headswam as he passed between the dusky ranks out into the courtyard.
"What does it all mean?" he asked himself.
His guide hurried him along until they came to a barn-like buildingunder the north-west angle of the fort. The Maratha unlocked the door,signed to Desmond to enter, and locked him in. He was alone.
He spent three miserable hours. Bitterly did he now regret having castin his lot with the smooth-spoken stranger who had been so sympatheticwith him in his troubles at home. He tried to guess what was to be donewith him. He was in Angria's power, a prisoner, but to what end? Hadhe run from the tyranny at home merely to fall a victim to a worsetyranny at the hands of an Oriental? He knew so little of Angria, andhis brain was in such a turmoil, that he could not give definite shapeto his fears. He paced up and down the hot, stuffy shed, awaiting,dreading, he knew not what. Through the hole that served for a windowhe saw men passing to and fro across the courtyard, but they were allswarthy, all alien; there was no one from whom he could expect afriendly word.
Towards evening, as he looked through the hole, he saw Diggle issue fromthe door of the palace and cross towards the outer gate.
"Mr. Diggle! Mr. Diggle!" he called. "Please! I am locked up here."
Diggle looked round, smiled, and leisurely approached the shed.
"Why have they shut me up here?" demanded Desmond. "Captain Barker saidI was to return at once. Do get the door unlocked."
"You ask the impossible, my young friend," replied Diggle through thehole. "You are here by the orders of Angria, and 'twould be treason inme to pick his locks."
"But why? what right has he to lock me up? and you, why did you let him?You said you were my friend; you promised--oh, you know what youpromised."
"I promised? Truly, I promised that, if you were bent on accompanyingme to these shores, I would use my influence to procure you employmentwith one of my friends among the native princes. Well, I have kept myword; 'firmavi fidem,' as the Latin hath it. Angria is my friend; Ihave used my influence with him; and you are now in the service of oneof the most potent of Indian princes. True, your service is butbeginning. It may be arduous at first; it may be long 'ab ovo usque admala'; the egg may be hard, and the apples, perchance, somewhat sour;but as you become inured to your duties, you will learn resignation andpatience, and----"
"Don't!" burst out Desmond, unable to endure the smooth-flowing periodsof the man now self-confessed a villain. "What does it mean? Tell meplainly; am I a slave?"
"'Servulus, non servus,' my dear boy. What is the odds whether youserve Dick Burke, a booby farmer, or Tulaji A
ngria, a prince and a manof intelligence? Yet there is a difference, and I would give you a wordof counsel. Angria is an Oriental, and a despot; it were best to servehim with all diligence, or----"
He finished the sentence with a meaning grimace.
"Mr. Diggle, you can't mean it," said Desmond. "Don't leave me here! Iimplore you to release me. What have I ever done to you? Don't leaveme in this awful place."
Diggle smiled and began to move away. At the sight of his malicioussmile the prisoner's despair was swept away before a tempest of rage.
"You scoundrel! You shameless scoundrel!"
The words, low spoken and vibrant with contempt, reached Diggle when hewas some distance from the shed. He turned and sauntered back.
"Heia! Contumeliosae voces! 'Tis pretty abuse. My young friend, Imust withdraw my ears from such shocking language. But stay! if youhave any message for Sir Willoughby, your squire, whose affections youhave so diligently cultivated to the prejudice of his nearest anddearest, it were well for you to give it. 'Tis your last opportunity;for those who enter Angria's service enjoy a useful but not a longcareer. And before I return to Gheria from a little journey I am aboutto take, you may have joined the majority of those who have tempted fatein this insalubrious clime. In a moment swift death cometh--youremember the phrase?"
Diggle leant against the wooden wall, watching with malicious enjoymentthe effect of his words. Desmond was very pale; all his strength seemedto have deserted him. Finding that his taunts provoked no reply, Digglewent on:
"Time presses, my young friend. You will be logged a deserter from the_Good Intent_. 'Tis my fervent hope you never fall into the hands ofCaptain Barker; as you know, he is a terrible man when roused."
Waving his gloved hand he moved away. Desmond did not watch hisdeparture. Falling back from the window, he threw himself upon theground, and gave way to a long fit of black despair.
How long he lay in this agony he knew not. But he was at last roused bythe opening of the door. It was almost dark. Rising to his feet, hesaw a number of men hustled into the shed. Ranged along one of thewalls, they squatted on the floor, and for some minutes afterwardsDesmond heard the clank of irons and the harsh grating of a key. Then abig Maratha came to him, searched him thoroughly, clapped iron bandsupon his ankles, and locked the chains to staples in the wall. Soon thedoor was shut, barred, and locked, and Desmond found himself a prisonerwith eight others.
For a little they spoke among themselves, in the low tones of menutterly spent and dispirited. Then all was silent, and they slept. ButDesmond lay wide awake, waiting for the morning.
The shed was terribly hot. Air came only through the one narrowopening, and before an hour was past the atmosphere was foul, seemingthe more horrible to Desmond by contrast with the freshness of his lifeon the ocean. Mosquitoes nipped him until he could scarcely endure theintense irritation. He would have given anything for a little water;but though he heard a sentry pacing up and down outside, he did notventure to call to him, and could only writhe in heat and torture,longing for the dawn, yet fearing it and what it might bring forth.
Worn and haggard after his sleepless night, Desmond had scarcely spiritenough to look with curiosity on his fellow-prisoners when the shed wasfaintly lit by the morning sun. But he saw that the eight men, allnatives, were lying on rude charpoys[#] along the wall, each man chainedto a staple like his own. One of the men was awake; and, catchingDesmond's lustreless eyes fixed upon him, he sat up and returned hisgaze.
[#] Mat beds.
"Your honour is an English gentleman?"
The words caused Desmond to start: they were so unexpected in such aplace. The Indian spoke softly and carefully, as if anxious not toawaken his companions.
"Yes," replied Desmond. "Who are you?"
"My name, sir, is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti. I was lately a clerk inthe employ of a burra[#] sahib, English factor, at Calcutta."
[#] Great.
"How did you get here?"
"That, sahib, is a moving tale. While on a visit of condolence to myrespectable uncle and aunt at Chittagong, I was kidnapped by Sanderbandpiratical dogs. Presto!--at that serious crisis a Dutch ship makesapparition and rescues me; but my last state is more desperate than thefirst. The Dutch vessel will not stop to replace me on mother-earth;she is for Bombay across the kala pani[#], as we say. I am not aswimmer; besides, what boots it?--we are ten miles from land, to saynothing of sharks and crocodiles and the lordly tiger. So I perforceremain, to the injury of my caste, which forbids navigation. But seethe issue. The Dutch ship is assaulted; grabs and gallivats galoreswarm upon the face of the waters; all is confusion worse confounded; ina brace of shakes we are in the toils. It is now two years since thisuntoward catastrophe. With the crew I am conveyed hither and eat thebitter crust of servitude. Some of the Dutchmen are consigned to otherforts in possession of the Pirate, and three serve here in his statebarge."
[#] Black water--the sea.
Desmond glanced at the sleeping forms.
"No, sir, they are not here," said the Babu[#], catching his look."They share another apartment with your countrymen--chained? Oh yes!These, my bedfellows of misfortune, are Indians, not of Bengal, likemyself; two are Biluchis hauled from a country ship; two are Musalmansfrom Mysore; one a Gujarati; two Marathas. We are a motley crew--amiscellany, no less."
[#] Equivalent to Mr.; generally applied to educated Bengalis.
"What do they do with you in the daytime?"
"I, sir, adjust accounts of the Pirate's dockyard; for this I amqualified by prolonged driving of quill in Calcutta, to expressedsatisfaction of Honourable Company and English merchants. But myposition, sir, is of Damoclean anxiety. I am horrified by convictionthat one small error of calculation will entail direst retribution.Videlicet, sir, this week a fellow-captive is minus a finger andthumb--and all for oversight of six annas.[#] But I hear the step ofour jailer; I must bridle my tongue."
[#] The anna is the sixteenth part of a rupee.
The Babu had spoken throughout in a low monotonous tone that had notdisturbed the slumbers of his fellow-prisoners. But they were allawakened by the noisy opening of the door and the entrance of theirjailer. He went to each in turn, and unlocked their fetters; then theyfiled out in dumb submission, to be escorted by armed sentries to thedifferent sheds where they fed, each caste by itself. When the eight haddisappeared the jailer turned to Desmond, and, taking him by the sleeve,led him across the courtyard into the palace. Here, in a little room,he was given a meagre breakfast of rice; after which he was taken toanother room where he found Angria in company with a big Maratha, whohad in his hand a long bamboo cane. The Pirate was no longer indurbar[#] array, but was clad in a long yellow robe with alilac-coloured shawl.
[#] Council, ceremonial.
Conscious that he made a very poor appearance in his tatters, Desmondfelt that the two men looked at him with contempt. A brief conversationpassed between them; then the Maratha salaamed to Angria and went fromthe room, beckoning Desmond to follow him. They went out of theprecincts of the palace, and through a part of the town, until theyarrived at the docks. There the labourers, slaves and free, werealready at work. Desmond at the first glance noticed several Europeansamong them, miserable objects who scarcely lifted their heads to look atthis latest newcomer of their race. His guide called up one of theforemen shipwrights, and instructed him to place the boy among a gang ofthe workmen. Then he went away. Scarcely a minute had elapsed whenDesmond heard a cry, and looking round, saw the man brutally belabouringwith his rattan the bare shoulders of a native. He quivered; theincident seemed of ill augury. In a few minutes Desmond found himselfamong a gang of men who were working at a new gallivat in process ofconstruction for Angria's own use. He received his orders in dumb showfrom the foreman of the gang. Miserable as he was, he would not havebeen a boy if he had not been interested in his novel surroundings; andno intelligent boy could have failed to take an interest in th
econstruction of a gallivat. It was a large rowboat of from thirty toseventy tons, with two masts, the mizzen being very slight. Themainmast bore one huge sail, triangular in form, its peak extending to aconsiderable height above the mast. The smaller gallivats were coveredwith a spar deck made of split bamboos, their armament consisting ofpettararoes fixed on swivels in the gunwale. But the larger vessels hada fixed deck on which were mounted six or eight cannon, from two- tofour-pounders; and in addition to their sail they had from forty tofifty oars, so that, with a stout crew, they attained, even in a calm, arate of four or five miles an hour.
One of the first things Desmond learnt was that the Indian mode ofshipbuilding differed fundamentally from the European. The timbers werefitted in after the planks had been put together; and the planks wereput together, not with flat edges, but rabbeted, the parts made tocorrespond with the greatest exactness. When a plank was set up, itsedge was smeared with red lead, and the edge of the plank to come nextwas pressed down upon it, the inequalities in its surface being thusshown by the marks of the lead. These being smoothed away, if necessaryseveral times, and the edges fitting exactly, they were rubbed withda'ma, a sort of glue that in course of time became as hard as iron.The planks were then firmly riveted with pegs, and by the time the workwas finished the seams were scarcely visible, the whole formingapparently one entire piece of timber.
The process of building a gallivat was thus a very long and tedious one;but the vessel when completed was so strong that it could go to sea formany years before the hull needed repair.
Desmond learnt all this only gradually; but from the first day, making avirtue of necessity, he threw himself into the work and became veryuseful, winning the good opinion of the officers of the dockyard. Hisfeelings were frequently wrung by the brutal punishments inflicted bythe overseer upon defaulters. The man had absolute power over theworkers. He could flog them, starve them, even cut off their ears andnoses. One of his favourite devices was to tie a quantity of oiledcotton round each of a man's fingers and set light to these livingtorches. Another, used with a man whom he considered lazy, was thetank. Between the dockyard and the river, separated from the latteronly by a thin wall, was a square cavity about seven feet deep coveredwith boarding, in the centre of which was a circular hole. In the wallwas a small orifice through which water could be let in from the river,while in the opposite wall was the pipe and spout of a small hand-pump.The man whom the overseer regarded as an idler was let down into thetank, the covering replaced, and water allowed to enter from the river.This was a potent spur to the defaulter's activity, for if he did notwork the pump fast enough the water would gradually rise in the tank,and he would drown. Desmond learnt of one case where the man, utterlyworn out by his life of alternate toil and punishment, refused to workthe pump and stood in silent indifference while the water mounted inchby inch until it covered his head and ended his woes.
Desmond's diligence in the dockyard pleased the overseer, whose name wasGovinda, and he was by and by employed on lighter tasks which took himsometimes into the town. Until the novelty wore off he felt a livelyinterest in the scenes that met his eye--the bazaars, crowded withdark-skinned natives, the men moustachioed, clad for the most part inwhite garments that covered them from the crown of the head to the knee,with a touch of red sometimes in their turbans; the women with bareheads and arms and feet, garbed in red and blue; the gosains, mendicantswith matted hair and unspeakable filth; the women who fried chapatis[#]on griddles in the streets, grinding their meal in handmills; thesword-grinders, whetting the blades of the Maratha two-edged swords; thebarbers, whose shops had a never-ending succession of customers; theBrahmans, almost naked and shaved bald save for a small tuft at the backof the head; the sellers of madi, a toddy extracted from the cocoanutpalm; the magicians in their shawls, with high stiff red cap, paintedall over with snakes; the humped bullocks that were employed as beastsof burden, and when not in use roamed the streets untended; occasionallythe hasawa, the sacred bull of Siva the destroyer, and the rath[#]carrying the sacred rat of Ganessa. But with familiarity such sceneslost their charm; and as the months passed away Desmond felt more andmore the gnawing of care at his heart, the constant sadness of a slave.
[#] Small flat unleavened cakes.
[#] Car.