28th.—North-west wind very cold: the river most difficult to navigate in parts; rocky, sandy, shallow. Anchored off Palpoor; found a quantity of river shells; they are not very pretty, but some are curious.
29th.—We were in the midst of great sandbanks, in a complete wilderness; the stream was strong and deep, the tracking-ground good; here and there the rocks appeared above water under the high cliffs. Off Belaspoor, on one sandbank, I saw ten crocodiles basking in the sun, all close together; some turtle and great white birds were on a rock near them; on the river’s edge were three enormous alligators, large savage monsters, lying with their enormous mouths wide open, eyeing the boats. The men on board shouted with all their might; the alligators took no notice of the shout; the crocodiles, more timid than the former, ran into the water, and disappeared immediately. These are the first alligators I have seen in their own domains; they are very savage, and will attack men; the crocodiles will not, if it be possible to avoid them. I would willingly have taken the voyage for this one sight of alligators and crocodiles in their native wildernesses; the scene was so unusual, so wild, so savage. At sunset, anchored off Gheetamow, and found some shells during my evening ramble.
At the sale of the effects of the late Col. Gough, in Calcutta, was the head of a magar (alligator) of incredible size, caught in the Megna; which, though deficient in not having an under-jaw, was a good weight for a man to carry, stooping to it with both hands. The creeks of a bend of the Sunderbunds, not far below Calcutta, are the places frequented, I hear, by the patriarchs of their race.
The next day we entered a most difficult part of the river; it was impossible to tell in which direction to steer the vessel; rocks on every side; the river full of them; a most powerful stream rushing between the rocks; to add to the danger, we had a strong westerly wind directly in our teeth, which, united to the force of the stream, made us fear the goon might break; in which case we should have been forced most violently against the rocks. We accomplished only one mile in four hours and a half! I desired the sarang to anchor the vessel, and let the men have some rest; they had been fagging, up to their waists in water, all the time, and I wished the wind to abate ere we attempted to proceed further. After the dāndees had dined, we pushed off again. At Kurunka a pilot came on board, which pleased me very much, as it was impossible to tell on which side of the rocks the passage might be: the pilot took us up with great difficulty through the rocks to the land-mark off the bungalow at Badoura; there he requested leave to anchor until the wind might abate; he was afraid to try the stream, it being still stronger higher up. Of course I consented; after which, accompanied by the pilot, I walked some three miles to collect fossil bones; these bones were discovered by the sappers and miners on the river-side, at the little village of Badoura; the bones are petrified, but to what animal they belonged is unknown; some cart-loads of them have been taken to Allahabad, to be shown to the scientific; I brought back five or six of the bones we found at the place. A short time ago this part of the river was impassable; the Company sent sappers and miners, who, having surrounded each rock with a fence that kept out the water, blew them up, and made a passage down the centre of the river; of course this was a work of time; the fences were then removed, and the stream flowed unconfined. Large boats can now go up and down in safety, if they know the passage. The next morning the pilot accompanied us as far as Merapoor, when he made his salām, and returned to the sappers’ and miners’ bungalow. The river now became good and clear; we encountered no more difficulties, and moored quietly off Seholee at six in the evening.
1835, Jan. 1st.—New Year’s Day was as disagreeable as Christmas Day; cold, frosty; a wind in our teeth; rocks and crocodiles. My pet terrier was taken ill; with difficulty she was brought through the attack; poor little Poppus,—she has a dozen names, all of endearment. Passed Juggermunpoor, where the fair for horses is held.
2nd.—A fair wind brought us to the Chumbal river. The fort and Hindoo temple of Bhurrage are very picturesque objects. This is one of the most difficult passes on the river, on account of the sand banks, and the power of the stream from the junction of the Jumna and Chumbal. I am directed not to stop a moment for any thing but letters on my way to Agra; on my return I shall go on shore (D.V.), and visit all the picturesque places I now behold merely en passant. The Chumbal is a beautiful river; never was a stream more brilliant or more clear; the water, where it unites with the Jumna, is of a bright pellucid green.
From the force of the united streams we had great difficulty in passing the junction; the wind dropped, and we could not move the pinnace on the towing-rope; we sent a hawser in the dinghee to the opposite shore, and then, with the united force of the crews of both vessels, hauled the pinnace across the junction into the quiet waters of the Jumna; it was 6 P.M. ere this was effected. Whilst the people anchored, and got the cook-boat over, I walked to a beautiful Hindoo temple, close to the river’s edge. The fort beyond put me in mind of Conway Castle; the towers are somewhat similar: on my return I must stop and sketch it. A wealthy native has sent to petition an audience; he is anxious to make salām to the mem sāhiba. I have declined seeing him, as we must start at daybreak; but have told him on my return I shall stay a day or two at this picturesque place, and shall then be happy to receive his visit.
Nothing is so shocking, so disgusting, as the practice of burning bodies; generally only half-burning them, and throwing them into the river. What a horrible sight I saw to-day! crowds of vultures, storks, crows, and pariah dogs from the village glutting over a dreadful meal; they fiercely stripped the flesh from the swollen body of the half-burned dead, which the stream had thrown on a sand bank; and howled and shrieked as they fought over and for their fearful meal!
How little the natives think of death! This morning, when I was on deck, the body of a woman floated by the pinnace, within the reach of a bamboo; she was apparently dead, her long black hair spread on the stream; by the style of the red dress, she was a Hindoo; she must have fallen, or have been thrown into the river. I desired the men to pull the body to the vessel’s side, and see if she might not be saved. They refused to touch it even with a bamboo; nobody seemed to think any thing about it, further than to prevent the body touching the vessel, should the stream bring it close to the side. One man coolly said, “I suppose she fell into the river when getting up water in her gharā” (earthen vessel)!
How easily a murdered man might be disposed of! On account of the expense of fuel, the poorer Hindoos only slightly burn the bodies of the dead, and then cast them into the river; by attiring the corpse after the fashion of a body to be burned, and throwing it into the stream, it would never attract attention; any native would say, “Do not touch it, do not touch it; it is merely a burnt body.”