CHAPTER XI
1897
THE PLAGUE
In the Report issued by the Bombay Plague Committee of 1897 it is shown that 27,597 persons died of that disease between August 8, 1896, and June 30, 1897; while the total mortality from all causes for the same period was 45,886. This is more than one-twentieth of the normal average population given as 850,000.[[1]]
[[1]] See Chart 3, issued with the Report on the Bubonic Plague, by Brigadier-General W. F. Gatacre, C.B., D.S.O., 1897.
When the disease first declared itself, the Press and its volunteer correspondents showed extraordinary ingenuity in denying its existence, in attempting to discount the seriousness of the situation and inventing euphemisms by which to describe the "glandular fever." But the authorities responsible for the health of the city appreciated the gravity of the prospect. The Municipality appointed a special sub-committee to investigate the causes of the epidemic and to carry out measures for its suppression; and Mr. Haffkine, the bacteriologist, was requisitioned from Calcutta to identify the bacillus. By the end of October the accommodation available in the Municipal Hospital for infectious diseases was lamentably inadequate. Customs officers in foreign ports took alarm and imposed quarantine on all vessels from Bombay Port. Natives of all classes were terror-stricken, and many families fled up-country. Thousands daily streamed over the two causeways that connect the Island of Bombay with the mainland; vast crowds assembled at the Bunders and the railway-stations in their haste to get away by sea and rail. Before January was out, half the inhabitants had escaped, for it has been shown that the population fell from 797,000 on December 8 to 437,000 on February 8. At the same time the mortality reached alarming figures, showing 4,559 in December and 6,189 in January in excess of the normal death-rate duly corrected. Although January is the coolest and pleasantest month of the year, it proved the most disastrous; the outbreak reached its climax on the 15th and 16th, on which days 344 and 345 fatal attacks were recorded.
The fires that burn inside the high walls that bound the Charni Road sent up a thicker smoke and a more suggestive stench than ever before. The price of wood for funeral pyres went up; in some cases Hindus consented to bury their dead, because they could not afford to buy the necessary timber. On January 18, 1897, an article appeared in The Times of India seriously discussing the supply of vultures then inhabiting the Towers of Silence. The writer concludes with the quaint phrase: "There are now nearly 400, the number being ample, even with the high death-rate now existing in the Parsee Community."
Hindu burning-ghat
The General Officer Commanding was fully alive to the dangerous and insanitary condition of some of the older parts of the town. For the greater security of his household he took an airy house on Malabar Hill, instead of inhabiting the official residence in the Marine Lines. He further arranged for the Marine Battalion, which forms the permanent garrison of Bombay, to leave their antiquated huts in the same road and go out under canvas. Two English ladies living in the Marine Lines caught the plague, but fortunately both recovered.
A white man dies
The European colony were profoundly distressed on hearing of the death of Surgeon-Major Robert Manser on January 6, 1897. He was First Physician of the Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy Hospital, and Professor at the Grant Medical College. It was said at first that pneumonia was the cause; but when Nurse Joyce, who had been attending him, died on the following day, suspicions were aroused, and the bacteriological examination established the connection between plague and pneumonia.
Early in February, under a pseudonym, the General published two carefully reasoned and suggestive articles in The Times of India. In the first he pointed put that the existence of the plague and the consequent exodus of the population afforded an excellent opportunity of carrying out extensive improvements in the housing and sanitation of the worst parts of the city, and in acquiring official control over the disposal of the dead. In the second he called attention to the inadequacy of the hospital accommodation to meet even the present demand, and boldly handles the question of finance, saying:
"What is a lakh or ten lakhs of rupees where the prosperity of Bombay is concerned? The question is not one for Bombay to haggle over. The plague has become a thing of Imperial importance, Her Majesty takes a deep interest in it, and the necessary funds must be found. But the Government of India will want to see some exhaustive efforts on our part; they will expect an amount of thoroughness in combating the disease which up to the present we have not shown."
After this appeal the writer goes on to suggest that a hospital should be established in Government House, Parel, a large mansion which had been the Governor's residence in the time of Sir James Fergusson, and had since been discarded in favour of a more breezy site on Malabar Point.
Official thanks
The municipality took the hint and voted funds. Lord Sandhurst responded readily and offered his "country seat" for the purposes of a Special Plague Hospital, and the General came forward officially, and promised to see to the equipment of the wards, and to provide doctors, orderlies, attendants, etc., from the troops under his command. His call for volunteers met with the same ready response; for nurses he applied to the various Roman Catholic Convents in the neighbourhood; and expended a special donation from Lady Sandhurst in making the Sisters' quarters as comfortable as possible, and in fitting up a little Oratory for them. In ten days 150 beds were ready, and by the erection of matting huts in the large compound accommodation could be quickly provided for several hundred more.
The following paragraphs, taken from a letter from the Government of Bombay to the Government of India, dated February 23, 1897, foreshadow the policy which was adopted a few days later:
"3. To General Gatacre the thanks of His Excellency the Governor in Council are in a special degree due, both for the offer of assistance and for the energy he has thrown into the undertaking. He has spared himself no trouble, and the result will be an unquestionable benefit to the city.
"5. I may add that His Excellency the Governor in Council anticipates great indirect benefit from a measure which brings the Military in touch with the Civil authorities in organising measures for preventing the spread of the plague, for it is not improbable that the Civil authorities may before long be driven to seek considerable assistance at the hands of the Military."[[2]]
[[2]] Government Orders: General Department No. 1481/934 P. Bombay Castle, March 16, 1897.
It was evident that the Governor regarded the situation as one which called for combined effort and extraordinary measures. He also realised that if such an undertaking as stamping out the plague before the monsoon broke was to have any chance of success, there must be central control and central responsibility. He wanted a man endowed equally with the administrative capacity to conceive a comprehensive plan of action, and the executive sagacity to carry it out with success.
The Gatacre Committee
Lord Sandhurst, having decided to execute what amounted to a "coup" in its startling supersession of all the traditions of the civil, municipal, and military services, sent for Gatacre as the strongest man whose services he could command, asked him to name his own committee, and to frame in his own words the instructions under which he was to act, and the powers with which he was to be invested. There can be no doubt that the Governor himself contributed enormously to the good results achieved by the Plague Committee by the splendid freedom from control which he allowed its Chairman, and the manner in which he put every department of Government—civil and municipal—at his disposal, and then let him work out his own system unhampered by any question of custom or finance.
Gatacre realised to the full that he was making himself personally responsible for the success of the undertaking. In a confidential letter he writes:
"The Government of Bombay has given me its thanks, and I have been appointed chairman of the committee to stamp out the plague. Lord Sandhurst sent for me, and asked me whom I would like to assist me, and I took Snow, Municipal Commissioner—he is the head of an enormous department and controls the municipality, which thus falls under me—James, an executive engineer of the municipality, an energetic man with an enormous staff of engineers and workmen—Dr. Dimmock, who is a sound man and has energy. I have made Cahusac secretary. I have been told that money is no object, but that I am to stamp out the plague. They have passed an Act directing all to carry out any order I like to issue, so if I fail it will be my own fault; but I do not intend to fail. We shall have much opposition, as this gives me powers over all except the Governor and his Councillors.
*****
"I wish they had handed me over this business in December, when I first came down; it would never have got out of Bombay. It has now become a most serious question, and has extended to the whole of India."
We have to thank Dr. Dimmock[[3]] for an account of the first meeting of the Committee.
[[3]] Lieut.-Colonel H. P. Dimmock, M.D., I.M.S.
"We began at once to decide on sites for plague hospitals. One question that was asked was, What sort of disease was plague? In those days one knew very little about it, for the bacillus had not been discovered. I tried to explain as much as was known, and finished my remarks with words to the effect that whatever the special infection might be, it seemed to be deadly and certainly contagious, and that we need none of us expect 'to come out alive.' 'Well,' said the General, with a smile, 'we can't think about that; we've only got to stop it, so let's get to work.'
"One must consider that at the time plague was such an appalling and mysterious disease that even the doctors feared for their lives each day, though it was their business to face it. How much more awful the invisible foe must have seemed to a layman, and still more to one who had to lead the attack on it as he did most cheerfully and energetically without experience of the ways of infectious diseases!"
The first step was to surround the city with a cordon to put a stop to the spread of the infection up-country. This could be the more easily and effectually carried out because Bombay City is built on an island. A police guard was posted on the Sion and the Mahim Causeways, where the road is carried over the water by long bridges, and at a ford available at low water; a foot-track along the main water-supply was boarded up; and the two railway-stations and all the Bunders were watched by inspection parties.
Special hospitals
Within the city the principle was laid down that all persons suffering from the plague must be brought into hospital. This involved two departments of labour; the first was to provide hospital accommodation, the second to enforce the handing over of the patients.
To meet one of the manifold objections put forward by the population to the use of hospitals, a system was started by which each community should have its own building or camp. This disposed of many insuperable difficulties as to the attendance on the sick, the preparation of food, etc.; and so much did this concession to their peculiar prejudices please the more enlightened communities, that their leaders came in person to the General and offered to run hospitals for their respective brotherhoods at their own expense. Such offers were willingly accepted, but control over these locations was rigidly maintained in the hands of the Committee. Indeed, so rapid was this demand for special accommodation for each sect, that—
"A scheme of hospital organisation was designed, a special equipment of staff, stores, furniture, and appliances being drawn on a ready basis, suitable to any pressing demands.... So that on an order being issued by the Committee for the institution of a hospital of any proportion, the District Medical Officer had merely to follow the orders laid down for a hospital of the size indicated.... Copies of the plan and equipment of a one-section hospital (twenty beds) was accordingly issued to the various executive departments of the Committee, and to all contractors, with directions to regulate the constructions of buildings and the supply of stores, medicines, and furniture accordingly."[[4]]
[[4]] Report, p. 22.
Within one month of its creation the Committee were running forty-three hospitals, of which fifteen were Government and twenty-eight were special private institutions such as have been described. In every detail of the internal management of these private institutions the will of the Dictator prevailed. He was always a welcome visitor; he took the keenest interest in the symptoms as they developed in any exceptional cases, and he made sure that those peculiarly Christian principles should be upheld which decree that there should be no distinction of caste in any one "jamat," no difference made between high and low, rich and poor, and that all the sick should receive equal attention.
But it was one thing to provide model buildings and the best of attendance, and another to persuade the relatives of the sick to bring in the patients. At the same time the segregation of the sick was the basis of the whole policy, and it was to secure this end that the house-to-house visitation was instituted.
While the mere idea of such a thing inflamed the minds of the writers in the Native Press, in practice the people soon found out that every consideration was shown. An appeal was made to the native gentlemen who were Justices of the Peace to attend at such visitations, and this had an excellent effect. White men did not enter the houses unless opposition was made; in the street a small body of troops was employed as a show of authority, but these were mostly drawn from the Native regiments. In no case was violence needed; the only pressure used was the personal presence of the General, the force of his will and character, the persuasion of his words uttered in their own tongue; the people grew to have faith in his promises, to appreciate his devotion to their interests, and to respect his methods.
Drives the brake
The Fire Brigade brake was commandeered to carry the search-parties. The rendezvous was at daybreak; every one had to be punctual, for the General waited for no one. The Committee was accompanied by officials with special knowledge of the quarter to be visited, and there were always a few lady-doctors present.
Supplies were taken in tiffin-baskets, but, says Dr. Dimmock, "the General's spare diet was a subject of wondering comment; some bread and dried fruit and a bottle of soda water was his usual breakfast, and his untiring energy on such diet was marvellous."
The General himself drove the brake, and one or other of the Plague Committee staff would sit on the box in order to give him an opportunity of discussing urgent matters.
On one occasion in April such a search-party was organised for an essentially Mahommedan quarter, where some opposition might be expected. The locality was occupied by Memons, Sunni Mahommedans, and opulent merchants hailing from Cutch. The usual military precautions were taken, and house-to-house visitation was in full swing. In a five-storied building in Kambekar Street occupied by rich Memons a plague case was discovered on the third floor. The patient was a Memon boy aged twenty, belonging to the rich family of Noorani, who were also the "Patels of the Moholla," i.e. leaders of the neighbourhood. The usual certificate was made out, in the name of the patient, Haji Ayub Haji Abdul Rahim Noorani, by the sub-divisional medical officer, and the family were informed that the young man would be removed to the hospital. To this they objected, and already a sullen crowd had assembled outside. In Mahommedan quarters the crowd is essentially male, with an admixture of children; the women, being "Purdah Nashins," do not show themselves.
On being informed of the trouble, the General, who was a little farther up the street, immediately repaired to the spot, speaking conciliatory words to the crowd as he made his way to the third floor and entered the room. Here he selected the oldest member of the family and "very courteously" discussed with him the necessity for the removal of the youth to hospital. In the meantime the new hand ambulance (which was a litter on a pair of bicycle wheels, worked out on an idea of the General's) reached the door; but the sight of it upset the parents so much that they withdrew their reluctant consent to Haji's removal. Recollecting that he was dealing with a wealthy family, the General suggested that they should send for one of their own carriages. Impervious to any notions of infection, but highly conscious of their local standing, the family readily consented to this compromise. Having won his point, the General made his way down to the street, where the crowd was now very dense: he whispered to a native inspector, slipping a few rupees into his hand. In a few minutes there was a vast scramble for sweets which were flying in every direction; under cover of this bombardment the patient was successfully carried off in an English brougham drawn by richly caparisoned white horses.[[5]]
[[5]] Recollections furnished by Mr. Louis Godniho, Deputy Officer; see also Advocate of India, April 3, 1897.
The Seedee king
On another occasion the quarter known as Kazipura was selected for the morning's search work. Kazipura is inhabited by all classes of Mahommedans, including the African Negroes or Seedees. On the arrival of the brake the party broke up and entered various dwellings. One party, consisting of two members of the Committee and Dr. Sorab Hormusjee (to whom I am indebted for this story, and who held the appointment of Lady Assistant to the Health Officer), came across a Seedee boy aged eighteen years, whom they declared to be suffering from the plague. The mother denied this, saying her son was only tired, having been dancing all night, and, supported by some male relatives, angrily asserted that she would not allow his removal.
House-to=house visitation.
Within a few minutes the streets and alleys were swarming with Seedees armed with sticks, and a serious riot seemed inevitable. But fortunately the Chairman was on the spot; he instructed Mr. Vincent, the Police Commissioner, to send for the Seedee King Makanda. The arrival of the Great Man and his Queen Sophie had a magic effect; a few words of explanation from the Chairman, a few words from the King to the sick man's mother, won the day for the cause of law and order.
The third story that I have selected is told by Miss Remy, a nursing sister of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. As her contribution describes the horrible dens that were daily visited I give her recollections in her own words:
"When plague broke out in Bombay I gave up my post for a time (as Matron of a Maternity Hospital attached to a College School) and was selected by the Plague Committee to organise and take charge of the Grant Road Hospital till such time as the Roman Catholic Sisters of the Order of Jesus and Mary were able to take up the work as they had promised. From this hospital—the Police Hospital, where I afterwards worked—I was taken out on several occasions by the Plague Committee in their house-to-house visitation. The people have strong prejudices against natives of another caste, and especially Europeans, approaching too near their places, so that in examining the houses it was necessary to respect the feelings of the owners in this regard. The rooms are usually 10 ft. by 10 ft.; the floor sometimes is of clay beaten down till it is firm and smooth and covered with a layer of liquid cow-dung, which quickly dries, forming a clean and neat surface; this is renewed at short intervals of a week or so. The internal arrangements are very simple; the cooking-place, usually surrounded by shining brass and copper pots, occupies a corner of the room, a low charpoy or cot in another, bundles of firewood, cow-dung cakes used as fuel, are stocked in odd recesses with a collection of dried fish and grain. General Gatacre, always courteous and tactful, was most careful in observing their prejudices. He always asked me to go in first and report if any of the occupants were suffering from plague or other causes, and also as to the condition of their room. The General would follow closely, and as the door opened to admit me he would look into the room. If it was particularly clean and cared-for, he invariably rewarded the occupants with a rupee or so as encouragement. He was quick to see things, patient with details, and possessed of a tact and eloquence which smoothed over many difficulties that came in the way of our work. He was particularly fond of little children, and I have often seen him pat their heads and slip some coppers into their hands as we went along visiting the different tenements. One incident I remember very well. On leaving the neighbourhood of Ripon Road, after visiting a long row of chawls, we were followed by a crowd of children, about fifty or more. Suddenly on turning a corner we came upon a sweet shop. The General went up to the stall and, to the utter amazement and indignation of the owner, seized several trays of the sweets and scattered them on the pavement, when there was a general scramble and loud hurrahs. Before the man could remonstrate Sir William took a handful of loose silver from his pocket and placed it on the counter. This more than compensated the man for the sweets, and he smiled and salaamed."
During this systematic visitation hovels were discovered where white men had never before penetrated; scores of houses were boarded up and labelled "U.H.H.," which stood for "Unfit for human habitation."
In The Times of India of March 31, 1897, we have a graphic but, alas! lengthy account of the visit of the Committee to a Mahommedan quarter to sanction buildings selected for use as hospitals. We read: "When the General's brake was sighted they lustily cheered him." On this occasion a feast and a vote of thanks was part of the programme.
"Tea and coffee were provided by the members of the party. When all were seated, Khan Bahadur Cassum Mitha rose and said in Hindustani:
"'General Gatacre,—We have been much honoured by your visit to this place to-day. Since you have assumed the command of affairs relating to this dire pestilence, we have learnt to assure ourselves of our safety. We are convinced that you honour our religious feelings, and we believe that what you do is for our own good. You have perhaps no idea of the esteem and respect you command among us. You have won over our hearts by your noble demeanour, and on the altar of your popularity we are ready to sacrifice everything.... In you, General, we find a saviour, and we thank Lord Sandhurst for sending you among us. You may count on our assistance at any and every moment. Our lives and our money will be always at your command.'"[[6]]
[[6]] See Bombay Gazette, March 31, 1897.
Opposition
As if in protest against the compliance of the great majority to the wishes of Government, one sect of Mahommedans, the Sunnis, showed themselves very refractory. After much elaborate letter-writing the Headmen sent a Mr. Raikes to lay before the Plague Committee the objections to their proceedings. At the conference that was arranged the delegate was heckled into expressing himself clearly: "'It really comes to this,' he said; 'they ask you to minimise as far as you possibly can the great objections they have to the removal of the sick by not doing it at all.'"[[7]] To which the Chairman seems to have rapped out: "That is absolute nonsense!"—to the great amusement of his supporters. But though his words were pointed, his conduct was deliberate, and his patience faultless, for in a leading article we read:
[[7]] See Advocate of India, March 31, 1897.
"The correspondence between General Gatacre and the representatives of the Sunni Mahommedans will satisfy every one that the community has been treated with extraordinary patience. The Chairman of the Committee has given two long interviews to the Sunni leaders, who have had professional assistance in placing their views before him. He has listened patiently and respectfully to every argument and objection that has been put before him; they have gone to the Governor with a letter which put their case at its strongest; and once again they have gone back to General Gatacre, who once more, in replying to their solicitors, treats them with a kindness and a consideration which sheer stubbornness seldom meets with in this world."[[8]]
[[8]] See Times of India, April 7, 1897.
The show of troops was slightly increased when the recalcitrant quarter was visited, but this precaution had due effect, and no violence took place.
After about six weeks of unsparing toil and incredible devotion, it was becoming clear that the labours of all those concerned were not in vain: the returns were showing a steady and unmistakable decline. But this had not been accomplished without very great persistence on every side. The General writes:
"I hope I shall hold out all right, but the strain is pretty severe; some of my Committee are feeling it, but have not broken down yet. We are working from fourteen to eighteen hours in the day, which does not give me much time for writing."
That he won the loyal support of all his colleagues is clear from the following letter:
"... The General is keeping very well; the amount of work he gets through is tremendous. There is one thing about him that has struck me very much, and that is the extraordinary personal influence he quite unconsciously exerts over the men working under him. A Surgeon-Colonel H—— has been sent down from Chitral for plague duty here, and he dislikes the whole thing. He had congenial work up there, a lovely climate, snow and frost, a nice house with a lovely garden; and he has come down to work in the slums of Bombay at the hottest time of the year, with no friends in the place, and a most enervating climate. He says that if any one else but General Gatacre was at the head of affairs, he would resign to-morrow. Major B—— is the same. His staff appointment will be up in October; he has eight months' leave due to him, and would have taken it if there had been any other General here. But he knows how busy General Gatacre is with the plague, and feels that it would be hard on him to get a new A.A.G. just now. And Major B—— is a hard-headed man, with, one would think, little sentiment about him. But I could give you many instances. Captain C—— of the Bombay Infantry, who is working as a secretary in the office, is only staying because General Gatacre is the Chief.... The General had a great dinner last month for all the medical men in Bombay, and as they refrained from discussing the plague, or their methods of treating it, it went off very well. Last week we had another dinner of twenty-four, to which all the Russian, German, and Austrian scientists and all the foreign consuls were invited; it was a decidedly interesting evening."
On April 30 the General writes:
"... We are still struggling with the plague, and though it is milder in Bombay it is still dreadfully severe in the provinces all around. We have now been put on to take up the provinces, and it is like paying the labourers of an enormous town when our pay-day comes on.... The work and worry here is unceasing, and I really don't know when we shall be out of the wood."
And again a fortnight later:
"The climate, though good for Bombay, is beastly, and there is still much sickness about. We lost a nurse, Miss Horne, ten days ago, of plague. In Bombay the mortality has come down to nearly normal, but in Cutch-Mandvi it is still very bad; at the latter place, with a population of 10,000 actually present, they have lost 2,000 in the last fortnight! I am just beginning to write the Report; it will take about two months, I think. We trust the disease will not break out again during the rains, but people know so little about it that it is impossible to say."
Writing on May 21, 1897, he says:
"... Our work has not lightened much here yet, although the disease is under control. You see the same organisation must exist to prevent the plague breaking out again as up to date has existed for controlling it. There is much plague in the districts, and people are trying to get back to Bombay. Many come in with the disease on them, but we catch them all at the stations and Bunders, and put them in hospital. Now we are stopping every one coming in and detaining them eight days, to make sure they have not got the disease."
In India that year the Queen's birthday was to be celebrated on June 22. Lord Sandhurst invited the General to his official dinner on the occasion, and urged him to come to Poona for a few days' change; but the latter declined the kind invitation, being fearful lest disturbances should occur in Bombay owing to the general holiday.
A murderous assault
That very night, at Poona, as the guests were returning after the dinner, a horrible outrage was perpetrated. In the darkness armed men climbed on to the back of two open carriages and shot the officers riding in them. Mr. Ayerst, who with his wife was in the first carriage attacked, died on the spot, being shot through the head. It was afterwards shown that there was no ill-feeling against this young officer, and that he was the victim of a mistake. In the carriage immediately following, Mr. Rand, a political officer who had been acting as Chairman of the Poona Plague Committee, was driving alone; he was shot through the lungs, and though at one time there seemed some hope of his recovery, he succumbed about ten days later.
It was well known that Gatacre had been receiving threatening letters[[9]]; violent language of this sort had even appeared in the papers. It was therefore natural that a very strong wave of sympathy and resentment at such an outrage should have been felt in Bombay, where the measures likely to provoke such personal retribution had necessarily been more drastic.
[[9]] See Advocate of India, April 13, 1897.
The General writes on June 25:
"... Our dinner was a success, but the affair at Poona has rather upset people; it appears that the people there have been determined to have the blood of the Plague Committee, and accordingly arranged to assassinate them. Rand I fear must die; Ayerst, who was shot by mistake, was killed at once; L——, who was on the Committee as segregation officer, was wanted, but the assassin mistook Ayerst for him. I trust the man will be discovered; we know who the instigator is, but it will be difficult to prove it. I wish I was on the job. I went to Poona yesterday, and saw the place, and had a long talk with Brewin, head detective; he seems fairly confident he will trace the murderers and bring the crime home to the suspected instigators."
Farewell
Though telegrams conveying the welcome news had reached him a fortnight earlier, it was not till the end of June that Bombay learnt that its General Officer Commanding had been appointed to the command of a Brigade at Aldershot, and would shortly be leaving the scene of his labours. The city had now been pronounced free from plague, hospitals were being closed on all sides, and employés of all ranks were daily dismissed. The Gatacre Committee had succeeded in stamping out the plague, and a chorus of gratitude arose towards the man to whose courage and determination the success of the attempt was mainly attributed. Every community wished to present him with a token of its recognition, while all combined to entertain him "on a very grand scale."[[10]] Leave was obtained from the Government of India to accept five testimonials, which, being cased in the silver cylinders familiar to the Anglo-Indian, are as beautiful as their contents are unique. Two of these offerings were a source of special pride and pleasure to their recipient. The casket presented by "The Citizens of Bombay" contains a scroll of parchment on which sixty signatures testify that all the representative men in the city, Christian, Mussulman, and Hindu, all merged their differences in their unanimous appreciation of the brilliant qualities and self-sacrificing devotion of the Chairman of the Bombay Plague Committee. A silver box presented by the seven officers who had so loyally served on the Committee throughout those four arduous months was also specially prized. But I am very sure that he would wish me not to omit a record of the offering of the Plague Staff, native clerks, engineers, and workmen of all classes; or of the touching farewell accorded him by the Sisters of the Cross at the Bandora Convent.
[[10]] See Bombay Gazette, July 6, 1897, and Times of India, July 22, 1807.
On July 2, one week before he sailed for home, he writes:
"I am looking forward to getting back to life again; I have been buried in a plague-pit for the last few months."