Part 7

After my interview with the cook, I settled down to my lessons, and very hard I had to work, I assure you; for, whatever clever people may say about it, I only know I found Hindoostanee exceedingly difficult to learn; it is tolerably easy to pick up a few sentences, just enough to give orders to the servants, but it is quite another thing learning a language where some of the letters of the alphabet are only two little dots, or a dot and a stroke, or a little dash; and I _never_ could feel at home beginning my copy at what we consider the end of a line, on the right hand, and writing backwards. Then, after studying for some time very attentively, and hoping I had got on very well, I made the humiliating discovery that I could only read my own writing, any one else’s being to me as undecipherable as hieroglyphics! By the time my studies were over it was time for luncheon; after lunch I had a nap, getting up about four to change my dress for a hunting expedition. All along the line of march we could find game a little off the main road, so every afternoon our ‘shikari,’ or huntsman, came to the tent-door with his elephant, and some coolies to beat for us. He made it his business to discover the best and nearest place for red-legged partridges, wild ducks, snipe, peacocks, or antelopes; we seldom had to go more than four miles before we dismounted from the elephant; we then went into the jungle, and the gentlemen shot until it got too dark to see the game. I acted as dog upon these expeditions, for English pointers are exceedingly rare, and very seldom of any use; the native servant who takes care of each couple is always dreadfully afraid of his charges, and never thinks of keeping them in order; he pampers and pets them, letting them do just as they like, and always speaks of them as ‘Kootah Sahib,’ or ‘Mr. Dog.’ So I used to beat the bushes for partridges, and whenever we put up a covey I marked them down, ran off to the bush where they took shelter, and waited there till the sportsmen came up. I carried a gun myself once, and only once. I never had courage to fire it, but once it went off of its own accord and shot a porcupine. Poor little creature! I was so sorry for it; there was nothing to be seen after the explosion but a few quills, which I have kept carefully ever since.

Stalking the antelopes was the best fun: they were so clever and so fleet that we could hardly ever get near enough for a rifle shot, but then the triumph was all the greater when we returned to camp with a fine fat buck slung on the elephant. As soon as I dismounted at my tent-door, the mahout ordered the elephant to ‘salaam,’ so he lifted up his long trunk and slapped his great wide forehead with it three or four times, just as the natives do. I always gave him something for his civility, a piece of cake or a large lump of sugar; but what he liked best was a bottle of beer; it was so curious to see how carefully he took it up in his trunk and poured the contents slowly into his huge mouth. I only gave him a pint bottle, so I suppose he considered that a mere sip! We had just time to dress for dinner, which was always at seven. We often dined out, or had officers to dine with us, for everybody was very sociable and pleasant; but it seemed rather odd to me that all guests were expected to send to the tent where they were going to dine, their own chair, plate, tumbler, wineglass, knife and fork, and spoon! However, if you think of it, it would have been impossible to carry about things enough for a dozen extra guests. We four ladies were made a great deal of, and used often to dine at the mess tents of the various regiments: but there was no sitting up late; everybody in camp—servants and all—was fast asleep by ten o’clock, and there was not a sound to be heard but the laugh of the hyænas, or the loud baying of the wolves.

There was no packing or unpacking to be seen; everything was done in the new tent before we arrived, and in the old one after we had left it. The country was so flat and level that it was difficult to believe we were getting on, until our arrival at some great town marked our progress. I don’t think any one was ill the whole time we were marching, and we had only one accident. A dear little girl called Rose (a very white rose she was, poor child) set her pinafore on fire one evening, just as we were all dressing for a dinner-party at the Commander-in-Chief’s. I heard a shriek from the tent opposite to mine, and rushed across the wide space to see what was the matter. I was only in time to see Rosy’s mamma seize a little pillar of flame—which turned out to be the child—in her arms, thereby setting all the lace trimming on her evening dress in a blaze. My toilette was not so far advanced, and I had on a very large wide flannel dressing-gown, so I threw myself upon the blazing heap, and in a second the tent ropes had been cut, and the canvas came huddling down on us. This put us all out at once, but for fear we might still be smouldering, the fire-engines began to play upon us, until I really thought we should have been drowned; I struggled to free myself, and shouted, as loud as I could, entreaties to the kelasses to leave off pumping, and to lift up the flaps of the tent; but, alas! all my Hindoostanee went out of my head, and I could only remember one word, which means ‘take care;’ so the more I shrieked this out, the more they replied, ‘Very good, lady-sahib, we are taking care,’ and pumped with greater vigour than ever. Poor little Rose and her mamma had both fainted, one from pain and the other from fright. At last some gentlemen came to our rescue and got the canvas up and extricated us; how dripping wet we all were! Rosy’s arms and chest were much burned, and the poor little girl suffered terribly; but she was very good and patient, and in a few weeks got quite well. I don’t think she will ever hold her pinafore over a candle again.

The first large station we came to was Bareilly; this was after three weeks’ marching; but our doings there would not interest you much. We had reviews in the daytime, or rather in the early morning and late in the evening, and balls at night. The only thing I find noticed in my diary of those days is an account of some feats of horsemanship, which we were invited to witness one afternoon. The performers were the soldiers, a regiment of Irregular Cavalry, who marched with us. They were mounted on wild-looking horses; and though the trappings were gay, the effect of the whole was somewhat shabby. But the pace they went at was wonderful. We stood in a tent verandah, and in front of the open space before it were some empty soda-water bottles planted in the sand with just their necks sticking out; at a signal some twenty or thirty horsemen dashed out of the ranks—the regiment was drawn up opposite to us, but a long way off—and with wild cries swooped down like eagles on these bottles, sticking the points of their long slender lances into the mouth of the bottle and lifting it out of the ground: fancy doing this as you pass at full gallop! They did the same thing to a tent peg; then there were some more bottles planted, and the men fired their carbines at them as they passed rapidly, and I find it recorded that only two missed out of twenty-eight riders. After that, the whole line charged past us like a whirlwind, the men flung themselves out of their saddles as they rushed by, holding still on to their bridle-reins however, ran a few steps by the side of their horses, and then lightly vaulted in the saddle again. The next feat was performed by a solitary horseman, who, with the reins lying loosely before him, jumped up on his saddle as he swept past us, fired off his carbine at a mark (they hardly ever missed), then throwing his arms round his horse’s neck, clung on for a few yards, at its side, so as to shelter himself from a supposed enemy; when the imaginary danger was over, he swung back into his saddle and quickly reloaded his piece: all this at full gallop. The bits they use are tremendously powerful, so that they can check their horses instantly, if necessary. They would have gone on much longer if it had not been for the dust, but that was so dense after all this riding about, that when His Excellency sent for the commanding officer to thank him and pay him compliments on the skill and cleverness of his men, we could hardly see either of them for the clouds of it, and the pretty speeches were made and answered amid paroxysms of choking and coughing.

After leaving Bareilly we had a very monotonous time, only once enlivened, when we halted for a day at a place called Gunnespore, by a visit from the Nawab of Rampore, through whose territory we were passing. He had behaved very well to the English at the time of the Mutiny, three or four years before, so we made it a point to be very civil and nice to him, for these native princes think a great deal of ceremonious attention. The main street, formed by the principal tents, was lined with soldiers as a guard of honour, and His Highness was received at the door of the Commander-in-Chief’s tent by His Excellency in person, with a brilliant staff behind and around him, bands playing, colours flying, and everything as smart and gay as possible. As we ladies had a great wish to see the show, some curtains (or ‘chicks’ as they are called) of scented grass had been hung up, so as to screen off a corner of the great tent, for the Nawab would have been terribly shocked to see unveiled ladies, or indeed ladies at all, assisting at a state ceremonial. Our presence would have spoiled it, so we were carefully hidden away and entreated to keep very quiet! However, in spite of these difficulties, we saw very well, and had an excellent view of the Nawab’s elephant, who was not only a huge creature with a splendid howdah of silver and ivory on his back, but had on his best clothes, consisting of a magnificent saddle-cloth to go under the howdah, about the size of a small carpet, and several enormous tassels hanging about his head, the largest of which was of silver, and hung down his nose in a most imposing manner. There were several other elephants, also very smartly caparisoned, and as soon as they reached the proper place, they all knelt; the Nawab and his attendants scrambled, in as dignified a way as they could, down their ornamented ladders; cordial and affectionate greetings were exchanged through the medium of the interpreters, and the gay group entered the tent. I was so disappointed in the Nawab! He was very fat and good-natured looking, but in spite of his purple satin robes, embroidered in silver and edged with large emeralds and pearls, he looked like an old cook in a dressing-gown! It must have been his cap which made me think directly of Gunter’s men, for although it was of white satin, and almost entirely covered with jewels, it was just the same shape as theirs. At this part of the ceremony, ‘necklaces of honour’ were put on, and I am very much afraid we giggled at the ridiculous appearance of our husbands and acquaintances, bedizened with large strings of silver knobs, or even flowers in some cases; the contrast was so great between their stalwart forms, bearded faces, and weather-stained uniforms, their breasts covered with medals, and these trumpery wreaths hung round their necks! However, it was kindly meant, and consequently well received. Trays of sweetmeats were handed round, and they had to eat them; you would not consider this a penance, I daresay, but wait till you are forty years old, and have been in a great many battles: gunpowder spoils your taste for comfits, I fancy. The visit lasted about twenty minutes, and was occupied entirely by mutual compliments. At last the servants reappeared, bearing salvers covered with beautiful embroidered cloths; underneath the cloths were vases of filagree silver containing exquisite scent-bottles filled with attar of roses: these were handed round. It was all very nice except the perfume—that was horrible: the attar was in the stage when it smells like turpentine. I know it to my cost, because I insisted afterwards on seeing the box, and stole one drop of the scent; it was so nasty I had to throw away my pocket-handkerchief, and nearly scrubbed the skin off my hands trying to get rid of the smell. After they had all gone through the pantomime of pouring the scent on their hands, the Nawab retired and mounted his grand elephant, and, with many bows and pretty speeches, they all went away to the sound of a salute of artillery. In the evening the Commander-in-Chief, his staff, and the principal officers, went in state to return His Highness’s visit, and the next day we resumed our march.

We reached Meerut about January 16, remained there for nearly a week, and then three long marches brought us as far as Delhi, which I thought the most beautiful place I had ever seen. There are ruins in every direction, but I have not time or space to tell you about them here, as we must remember that this is only an account of camp life. A terrible famine had raged the whole of the past year, and the sights and sounds we encountered at this town were heartrending. Every officer and soldier belonging to our camp subscribed a day’s pay for the starving people, and a large sum was left in the hands of the Relief Committee. As for me, I never went outside the tent without a bag of small coins called ‘pice,’ which was emptied in about two minutes. Returning one day to the tent with my usual exhausted purse, a poor woman threw herself before me holding up a child of about two years old in her arms. There was no need to tell me they were starving, for their bones were literally sticking out of their skins, and they had scarcely a shred of clothing over them. I told her as well as I could that I had no more money, but if she would wait a little she should have food, so I hurried into the tent and snatched off the luncheon table a loaf of bread with one hand and a large cake with the other, intending to return for some milk; I saw the poor little starving baby’s eyes glisten ravenously, and he clutched the cake, but before he could touch it, the mother had struck both the bread and the cake out of my hands, and trampled them under her feet, scolding me loudly all the time for attempting to ‘break her caste.’ She was so deeply affronted, that she would not even accept some pice which I offered her afterwards.

A few days after leaving Delhi we reached Kurnaul, where we had very good snipe-shooting, but did not halt there, as it was important to push on for Umballah. The heat was fiercer day by day, and the Commander-in-Chief was anxious to break up the camp before the hot winds set in. Between Kurnaul and Umballah we came in for a dust-storm; and as I do not suppose you ever saw, or perhaps ever heard of, such a thing, I must tell you a little about it.

Just as we had settled down quietly for the day in our tent, we were startled by hearing the ‘tap tap’ of the kelasse’s heavy wooden hammer on the tent-pegs. As they never require to drive the pegs further home, except in case of a sudden storm, we knew at once that they expected something of the kind; but as there was no symptom of rain, we could not imagine why these precautions were necessary. However, all was bustle and activity: the horses were led round to the lee side of their owners’ tents, and, instead of being fastened to a peg in the ground, each syce stood by his horse’s head, holding tight on to the halter, so as to soothe and pat it when it got frightened. All the servants who had nothing to do, huddled themselves together in a corner of the verandah; the saddles were brought under the same shelter, and at last the preparations were completed by the Khansamah bringing in the candlesticks, with the candles alight, and placing them in the centre compartment of the tent. My ayah was hovering about me with a long strip of white muslin in her hand, and made out from her incoherent speeches that she wanted to tie up my head in it, but before I consented to this, I took one more peep out of doors. From the weather-quarter a dense black cloud was moving swiftly up, and every now and then the wind rose in a sharp, short gust, which whistled and screamed among the cordage and flaps of the tents. All around me I saw hasty preparations for shelter going on, and my last glimpse was of the poor, much-enduring cook abandoning the little mud ovens he had just constructed as a substitute for a kitchen-range, and hurrying, with his assistants and quantities of pots and pans, towards a little bell-tent which the kelasses were pinning firmly down to the ground with great wooden pegs. It is of great importance in a dust-storm to have the tent firmly secured all round, for, if the wind once got underneath the canvas, the whole tent would be whisked off to the sky in a moment! I am very much afraid I should rather have liked to see some one else’s tent flying away, it would have looked so funny: however, the kelasses had made such good arrangements that no accidents happened.

In the camels’ camp I saw all the drivers making their charges kneel down with their backs to the coming storm, whilst the men themselves crouched on the lee side of the camels, but there was no time for me to notice what the elephants were going to do, for the storm was almost upon us; the outer air already felt suffocating, so I very reluctantly retired to get my turban put on. Scarcely had the servants fastened firmly to the ground the large curtain which formed our tent-door, and which was generally festooned back with green wreaths of mango-leaves, when the tent shook and swayed backwards and forwards, and in a few moments everything was thickly covered with the finest dust, which had filtered through the numerous folds of the canvas. It was impossible to read or work, the candles only gave a little gleam of light through the dense atmosphere, and all we touched was gritty. For four long hours our imprisonment lasted, and it was not until sunset that the kelasses pronounced it safe to release us. As soon as the tent flaps were lifted up we all burst out laughing at each other—such objects you never saw! No one had an eyebrow or an eyelash to be seen; the bronzed and red complexions which outdoor life had produced, were all hidden under a thick coating of dust, and we needed only a few streaks of paint to have looked like Clown in the pantomime, for our faces were quite as white as his. We could see the dense cloud moving on to the south-west, but all was beautifully clear behind it; only a slight haze between us and it showed that the atmosphere was not quite free from dust a little beyond us. I looked at the horses,—they were all as white as if they had been powdered with flour; so were their syces; and the ‘bheesties,’ or water-carriers, were very busy filling the large goat-skins which serve them as water-jugs, to give every live thing which had been outside a good drink, and to wash the dust out of their eyes and ears. The camels had buried their noses in the sand, and did not appear to have suffered at all.