In the course of our ramble through the shops we met several of our 'Patagonia' friends. The result of all this buying will, no doubt, be seen to-morrow, when, if this fine weather holds, the little masquerade which Mrs. Lyster and I have been planning is to come off on the quarter-deck. The idea was started by Mrs. Lyster, and we all think it excellent. A reception is to be held by the handsomest girl on board in the character of Britannia. Everyone presented is to wear a disguise and to speak and act in character with the impersonation. The first officer, to whom the names are to be given beforehand, will act as usher introducing the guests. When they are all assembled the Captain and one of the elder ladies are to pass them in review, in order to award a prize to the most striking and best-sustained personation.
[CHAPTER VIII]
THE MASQUERADE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
The masquerade, which came off this evening, is over. I have taken part in it, and I am tired and bewildered; but I know I shall not be able to rest until I have tried to recall and to understand what has happened. So I have asked for a longer supply of light than usual, and I am sitting alone in my cabin writing it all down.
As soon as the masquerade was arranged I determined on my disguise. I would be an Indian of high rank. I consulted Chunder Singh, who with the most obliging readiness entered into my project, undertaking to dress and instruct me for the part. With this view we retired to his cabin in the early part of the day. He happened to have in his possession such a dress as Indian rajahs wear upon state occasions, decked out with jewellery which appeared to be of great value. In these he dressed me. Then he stained my face and hands a light brown, deepened the colour of my hair and eyebrows, and wound a magnificent turban round my brows. This done he began to show me the proper gestures to use and speeches to make, I in the meantime watching him closely, and trying to mould my behaviour on his. At first, so far as I was concerned, it was a mere game; but presently I felt as though an indescribable and mysterious change were coming upon me. I was not copying him only—his mind was being reflected upon my mind. I was, in fact, stepping out of my own individuality and into that of another. I might have thought myself the victim of a curious illusion had it not been that there was an answering change in Chunder Singh. For a few moments I saw him stand as if paralysed, then a wonderful light overspread his face, and with outstretched arms he came towards me slowly, murmuring 'Brother! Brother!'
To the end of my days I shall remember the misery of that moment. I retreated before Chunder Singh. I would copy his gestures no longer. I took off the dress and sent him away. As soon as it was done, however, I laughed at myself for my folly. What did my uneasiness mean? I was the successor of a rajah and the inheritor of his wealth. If I could play the part of a rajah, so much the better. When the evening came I sent for Chunder Singh, and said that if he would forgive my abruptness of the morning I would put on his dress again. I had told no one what I intended to be; not even Mrs. Lyster. Why I made all this mystery I can't exactly tell. It was partly, I think, to humour Chunder Singh. I remember even pretending that I should not appear at all, not being able to rig up a suitable dress. Only the first officer, to whom the names were bound to be given in, was in possession of my secret.
I think, at the last moment, I should have drawn back, if it had not been for Chunder Singh. As it was, almost everyone was out before I could make up my mind to be presented. In the meantime the curious change of the morning had come over me again, and I felt not so much acting a part as living in it. That others shared my illusion was evident from the puzzled faces of the little motley crowd, when I appeared among them, and was presented in my turn to pretty Britannia, under a high-sounding Indian title.
Gravely and reverently I made my salaam, and then stood aside. Colonel Trent was close by, looking well as an Arab sheikh. He looked at me scrutinisingly, and addressed me in Urdu. I had studied this dialect with Chunder Singh; but I confess I was surprised by the readiness with which I understood and answered the Colonel. We exchanged a few more words, and then he turned away from me, and I heard him say to one of the officers in English: 'I thought it was young Gregory; but I see I am wrong. Who is it?'
The answer I did not catch.