“Captain Hayes-Billington is distantly connected with some friends. The Hayes-Billingtons were looking for a paying guest, I was anxious to go to India, my aunt liked Mrs. Hayes-Billington—and so here I am.”
Mrs. Ashe said no more on this subject, but I gathered that she did not approve of my chaperon, also that the feeling was mutual. The two ladies “looked down their noses” on the rare occasions when they met face to face.
Mrs. Ashe and I had many talks as we sat together on deck on lovely moonlight nights. Steaming down the Red Sea the water was like glass, but no sooner had we left Aden than I learnt the meaning of the word “monsoon.” Directly we abandoned the shelter of the coast we were struck by the full force of what to me seemed a hurricane. It burst upon us suddenly at luncheon time; at the first lurch of the Asphodel all the knives and plates and glasses slid off the table, and oh! how we rolled and wallowed! We rolled all the way over to Bombay, the rain descended in torrents, and the knocking about, the clinging, and the crawling were horribly uncomfortable. Our Asphodel was what is called “a wet boat,” her decks were continually swept by seas, and she groaned and shuddered like some stricken animal.
I must confess that I was by no means sorry when the voyage came to an end and we stepped upon the Ballard Pier, in the animated and highly coloured city of Bombay. Here we did not delay more than a few hours, which we spent at the Taj Mahal Hotel, and then drove to Victoria Station to pursue our journey.
Bombay gave me my first sight of the ancient and picturesque East. I was fascinated by the quaint native craft at the quays, the crowds of people in gay and varied costumes, the painted bullock carts, the jingling trams packed so tightly, the fine imposing public buildings and the beautiful bay—“Bon Bahia” indeed!
The ascent of the great Bore Ghât was to me a most thrilling and impressive experience. How we went up, up, up, and how we went down, down, down! What dizzy views of the plains as we crept along precipices and turned the most paralysing angles! Finally, after steady travelling by rail and tonga, we found ourselves at our journey’s end—the hill station of Silliram.
It was pouring the traditional “cats and dogs” when we arrived, and here Captain Hayes-Billington awaited us at the tonga office, his broad, good-looking face wet with rain and wreathed in smiles.
It appeared that he had secured a small bungalow, collected a few servants, and done, he declared, “his best to give us a flying start.” The bungalow, which was named “The Dovecot,” was old and dilapidated, surrounded by a deep veranda and a small garden or compound which separated us from a high road, at present swimming in mud. Accommodation in “The Dovecot” consisted of four rooms, viz. drawing-room, dining-room and two bedrooms, to each of which was attached a ruinous bathroom; for tub, a half barrel of primitive age. The smaller of the bedrooms was naturally apportioned to me, and here, with the aid of an English-speaking ayah, I began to unpack my small baggage and endeavoured to make myself at home. Coming across from Aden I had learnt the true meaning of the word “monsoon.” Arriving in Silliram, I received a practical illustration of the word “rains!”
It was not merely rain, but a cataract that battered on the roof, roared down the gutters and made large ponds in our little compound. Silliram was situated on a spur of the ghâts about 4,000 feet above the plains, but for the moment one could see nothing of the place. The atmosphere appeared to consist entirely of a wet white mist; the roads were ankle deep in red mud, the valleys filled with masses of what looked like cotton-wool clouds. Europeans on ponies and disguised in mackintoshes occasionally splashed by our gate, and the natives went about with long bare legs, the remainder of their persons entirely shrouded in brown blankets.
It was now that I began to see the best side of Captain Hayes-Billington. Always loud and boisterous, he was nevertheless wonderfully good-tempered, cheerful and considerate, and eagerly disposed to make the best of everything. He was also surprisingly energetic, and helped his wife and myself to furbish up our shabby little bungalow. I gathered that we might soon expect a number of visitors, but that it was our business, being the last comers, to sally forth and call upon the station.