“How many perils do enfold
The righteous man to make him daily fall.”
I once had the temerity to volunteer my valuable services for an expedition which was fitting out for the purpose of reducing a rebel stronghold; and the answer to my application informed me in somewhat laconic terms that “due information would be given when they were required.”
This was a trifle rude; but I had long since sacrificed my independence, and had to grin and bear it. Very shortly afterwards, however, they were wanted; and I was ordered to proceed without delay to Pegu, where I was to take charge of the garrison. The summons was accompanied by the pleasing intelligence that the river was infested with gangs of dacoits; and indeed the kindly warnings and exhortations to extreme wariness and energy were tantamount to an assurance that, if I fell into the hands of the enemy, my head would in all probability be sent to Ava as a trophy. Provided, however, that it were permitted to retain the position assigned to it by nature, I was to report myself at Pegu in the shortest possible time.
Early next morning I was sauntering along the muddy banks of the river in quest of a suitable conveyance; nor had I much difficulty in finding what I wanted, for, among their many accomplishments, the Burmese are very fair boat-builders, their craft, if not very ornamental, being at least large and roomy, with plenty of beam, and provided with thatched roofs as a protection against the fierce rays of a tropical sun. I soon concluded arrangements for one provided with sails as well as oars, and manned by a crew of four rowers and a steersman. Just as I had struck a very satisfactory bargain, I was saluted by a Madras native officer in command of four sepoys, who also had to join their regiment quartered at Pegu. They carried muskets and a goodly supply of ammunition; and I therefore thought fit to propose that they should accompany me, convinced that they would help me give a good account of any Burmese war-boats that might venture to molest us.
The offer was eagerly accepted; and I had every reason to be satisfied with my companion, who proved a very intelligent fellow, and was fortunately sufficiently master of the English language to enable me to dispense with that painful medley of distorted English, mongrel Hindustani and original Burmese by which I was in those days compelled to give expression to my thoughts when conversing with Asiatics.
It was customary at the time of which I am writing—and, for all I know to the contrary, may be so still—for the Bengalese to look down upon the Madras soldiers as a vastly inferior set of men, and especially to ridicule their helmets and general attire. Physically inferior they were without a doubt; but there was much in the way of compensation, notably their freedom from the unnatural trammels of caste; they were also more sociable, readily joining their officers in cricket and other games, and far more eager to acquire information.
The Bengal sepoy, on the other hand, was better set up and more imposing-looking, and there his qualifications ended: drill and other duties over, he became a somewhat sensual recluse, with no thought for anything save eating and drinking, and weighed down with sheer grief if he infringed the rigid line laid down by his own sect.
Beyond the ordinary and unvarying routine of everyday life, his mind was a blank; and it was no easy matter to avoid the mere shadow of offence with men so ready to impute their own sinister designs to others. Subterfuge and cunning occupied the place of intelligence; and when the veil was at last thrown aside, they appeared in their true character, repulsive and forbidding. Even then we were slow to believe it; and officers pinned their faith in their integrity, until the men turned round and shot them down without compunction.
The sun was well up, too much so indeed to be exactly pleasant, when we stood by the boat next morning impatient to be off; but our eagerness was to all appearances not shared by the Burmese, who seemed to have lost their heads, their courage oozing away as the time for departure approached, assailed no doubt by visions of decapitation, which would assuredly be their lot if captured in the act of conveying the enemy.