The next morning he called on me, and brought me a letter from a relative; therefore we were soon acquainted, and agreed to have a canter, when the sun should go down. He told me, on his way down, the police had brought him a basket, containing half the mangled body of a child; the wolves had seized the poor child, and had devoured the other half the night before, in the ravines. It was fortunate I did not encounter a gang of them under the dark cliff, where the black horse could scarcely pick his way over the stones.
11th.—I rode with Mr. G⸺ through the ravines and the Civil Station, and saw many beautiful and picturesque spots. We returned to the pinnace; he came on board, and we had a long conference. It was not to be marvelled at that the mem sāhiba talked a great deal, when it is considered she had not spoken one word of English for thirty-three days; then she did talk!—ye gods! how she did talk! Mr. G⸺ offered to send armed men with me if I felt afraid, but I declined taking them; and he promised to forward my letters by horsemen every day, to meet the pinnace. Nothing can be greater than the kindness one meets with from utter strangers in India. He gave my husband and me an invitation to pay him a visit on our way back, which I accepted for the absent sāhib.
I was amused by an officer’s coming down to the river, which he crossed; he then mounted a camel, and his servant another; he carried nothing with him but some bedding, that served as a saddle, and a violin! In this fashion he had come down from Sabbatoo, and was going, viâ Jubbulpore, across to Bombay! thence to sail for England. How charmingly independent! It is unusual for a gentleman to ride a camel; those who understand the motion, a long swinging trot, say it is pleasant; others complain it makes the back ache, and brings on a pain in the liver. At Etaweh every thing was to be had that I wished for; peacocks, partridges, fowls, pigeons, beef, were brought for sale; atr of roses, peacocks’ feathers, milk, bread, green tea, sauces; in short, food of every sort. I read and answered my letters, and retired to rest perfectly fagged.
12th.—At daybreak the pinnace started once more for Agra,—once more resumed her pilgrimage; it is seventy-two miles by the road from Etaweh; how far it may be by this twisting and winding river remains to be proved. For some days two bird-catchers (chirī-mārs) have followed the pinnace, and have supplied me with peacocks; to-day they brought a hen and three young ones; they also brought their nets and the snares with them, which I had seen them use on shore. The springes are beautifully made of buffalo-horn and catgut. I bought one hundred and six springes for catching peacocks, cyrus, wild ducks, &c., for four rupees, and shall set them in the first jungle we meet. I set them immediately in the cabin, and caught my own two dogs: it was laughable to see the dismay of the dogs, nor could I help laughing at my own folly in being such a child. My head began to throb bitterly, and I spent the rest of the day ill in bed.
15th.—At 8 A.M. the thermometer was 46°, at 1 P.M. 66°, a great difference in five hours. The peacocks, in the evening, were calling from the cliffs, and came down to feed by the river-side, looking beautiful; there were four male birds on one spot, quite fearless, not taking any notice of the men on the goon. Anchored at Purrier.
16th.—A good day’s tracking; no obstacles; good water, i.e. deep water; anchored late at Dedowlee ke Nuggra.
17th.—Found a bar of sand directly across the river; about fourteen enormous boats all aground; numbers of vessels arriving hourly; every one going aground, as close as they could lie together; in the midst of the bar was one vessel which had been there four days. The sarang of the pinnace came to me and said, “Until that salt-boat gets off we cannot move; in all probability, we shall be utterly unable to cross the bar.” The whole day, in the dinghee, did the men sound the river; in the evening I went with them, to see and satisfy myself of the impossibility of crossing; even the dinghee grounded; where, then, could the pinnace find water?
I determined to send on the servants, the baggage, and food in the flat-bottomed cook-boat, to Agra; to write for a dāk for myself, and to remain quietly in the pinnace, until its arrival; went to bed, out of spirits at the unlucky accident of the bar across the river. In the morning, hearing a great noise, I went on deck; the salt-boat was gone, all the vessels but one were off, and the crew were preparing to pull the pinnace by main force through the bar of sand; remembering the leak, I viewed these preparations with anxiety; that leak being only stopped with mud and towels. They pulled her into the place from which the salt-boat had at last extricated herself; a little more exertion, and the pretty Seagull slipped and slid out of the sandbank into deep water. Such a shout as arose from the crew! “We shall see the Tāj beebee ke Rauza: it is our destiny; the mem sāhiba’s kismat (fate) is good: to be sure, what a number of rupees has not the mem sāhiba spent on the pinnace! Her luck is good; this her pilgrimage will be accomplished; and the sāhib will be pleased also!”
And the mem sāhiba was pleased; for we had got over a bar in half an hour, that, the night before, we calculated might take two or three days to cross, with great risk to the vessel. I had determined to give up attempting to take the Seagull further, not liking the chance of straining the timbers so severely, the vessel not being a newly-built one. “Once more upon the waters!” Thank God, we are not upon the sand!
An acquaintance, the Hon. Mrs. R⸺, has just arrived at Allahabad from England; nothing could exceed her astonishment when she heard I had gone up the Jumna alone, on a pilgrimage of perhaps two months or more to see the Tāj, not forced to make the voyage from necessity. I have books, and employments of various sorts, to beguile the loneliness; and the adventures I meet with, give variety and interest to the monotony of life on the river. Could I follow my own inclinations, I would proceed to Delhi, thence to the Hills, and on to the source of the Jumna; this would really be a good undertaking. “Capt. Skinner’s Travels,” which I have just read, have given me the most ardent desire to go to the source of the Jumna.