This time, I reflected I was not alone, and if my torch were to go out, of course no one would believe that it was the result of accident. So at least I concluded, mindful of the proverbial charity that folks at large indulge in when criticizing their neighbours’ proceedings.
After lunch on the yacht, temptingly laid out and thoroughly appreciated, the boat’s head was turned, and we quietly steamed down to Moulmein. The day was full of interest from start to finish, and everyone thoroughly enjoyed it.
Something of the old schoolboy sensation, when his fleeting holidays are drawing to a close, stole over me as our steamer turned up a few days later to convey us back to a land associated with so many painful memories. Before the Mutiny, I could count my friends by scores; now most of them had perished, slaughtered with few exceptions by their own men in whom they reposed such blind and ill-requited confidence. Many of the old landmarks of the service were also to be swept away, and new ones set up in their place.
The prospect was uninviting to a degree; but as I could not afford to cut the painter for good and all, I had to make the best of a bad bargain. At any rate, we were, under our old masters, content and happy, and should have been prosperous as well, but for an event, for which those at home were more to blame than the people on the spot.
What were the chances of improvement now, with more home interference on the part of those who knew not the East? Time alone could show! I had certainly enjoyed myself, and in some measure my Burmese trip had done me good; but now the reaction was setting in, and I began to question whether it would not have been better after all to have stayed on the spot and lived down the disagreeables. Hard work is without a doubt the best panacea for all manner of troubles; and not, as so many aver, an unceasing round of pleasure and fictitious excitement.
My feelings had partaken very much of the same character as those of a party of young children I once upon a time escorted to their first seaside holiday, and then brought back after a month’s enjoyment of the indescribable delights which any of our watering places afford such juveniles. Going, they were all sunshine and excitement, never ceasing to prattle about their coming excursions and amusements, and even setting the other occupants of the carriage in a roar of laughter by their ingenuous attempts to pronounce the dreadful Welsh names of the stations through which we passed.
Very different was the return journey; all was dark without and sad within; hardly a word spoken from beginning to end; stations unnoticed and uncared for, and even the “goodies” eaten in silence.
And I felt sad too at the prospect of returning to India. For a time, I was diverted by the fatiguing process of packing; though it was only by the aid of a zealous and painstaking domestic, who ignored the mosquitoes and the exertion, that I finally succeeded in stowing away all the vases, teapots, cups and saucers, heathen gods and goddesses, bamboos, etc., regretting the while that I had ever been prevailed upon to buy them. I was therefore not sorry at having failed to secure a couple of Pegu ponies for transmission to India. Their price alone—Rs. 300 for an animal that formerly cost one-tenth of that price—placed me out of the ring; and the trouble and expenses attendant on the transport of live stock must have been considerable. As a speculation, it might have answered; but whatever gifts Nature may have lavished broadcast upon me, the bump of “barter” was only developed in a very rudimentary state. After packing came the still more painful operation of leave-taking, and we were soon steaming down the river for the last time. Several handkerchiefs waving from a verandah grew less distinct, until a bend in the stream hid them from view.
We were taken back by the same adventurous, independent captain, a buoyant person of the Mark Tapley order, who gave us one more proof of his undeniable force of will. We had reached the Sand Heads, about a hundred and twenty miles from Calcutta, when a dispute arose as to whether we should be up in time to land that evening. Two circumstances militated strongly against us, the strength of the outward current and the rule that forbade any navigation after sunset among the shipping that lay off the town. But the captain swore he would be ashore in time to dine with his wife; and he kept his word. The wheels revolved faster, the wave of cleavage rose higher; and the inquiries of the engineer were ever met with “Give her as much more as you can!” As the daylight began to ebb, the smell of fire was distinctly perceptible, and smoke was issuing from various chinks. A number of Lascars too might be seen emptying buckets over the deck. Still the captain kept his course; and at last, the observed of all observers, we passed the shipping and reached our moorings, and were at rest.
I took a boat and went ashore, and——Chaos came again!