“Gernon is a real good-hearted lad, but a devil of a griff; so you must keep a sharp eye upon him as you go up together, that he does not shoot, drown, or hang you or himself.”
A week before my departure, I got leave to go down to Calcutta, for a couple of days, for the purpose of hiring a boat to take me up to the great military station of Cawnpore, from whence I was recommended to march. I had also a few necessaries to procure, as well as to take leave of General Capsicum and the widow, of whom I had occasionally accounts through the roundabout channel of my friend the indigo planter.
Battleton having matters of deep moment to attend to in Calcutta, one of which I discovered was to order a splendid set of turquoises, bracelets, brooch, ear rings, all complete, with other bijouterie, for the bride elect (for Mrs. Brownstout’s hop had fairly brought on the matrimonial crisis), he offered to accompany me.
One day, after breakfast, consequently, we proceeded to the ghaut, where we hired a paunchway to take us to the City of Palaces, for the sum of one rupee; and the tide being in our favour, we struck out into the noble stream, and were soon on our way to our destination.
The scenery between Calcutta and Barrackpore, a distance of sixteen or eighteen miles, I thought then, and have always since considered, extremely rich and picturesque; its characteristics are bold sweeps of the broad Hoogly—banks agreeably diversified, with rich foliage of various forms and tint—clumps of cocoa-nut and bamboo—groves of mango, tamarind, and plantain. Here a ghaut, with crowds of bathers—there a temple, or the white huwailie or kotee house of some European residing on the banks.
We soon passed the Governor-General’s country residence, and the extensive and beautifully wooded park adjoining, which has a fine effect from the river; also, riding at anchor among other boats, and at some little distance from the shore, we had a view of the state pinnace, or Soonamooky, in which that high functionary makes his progresses to the Upper Provinces. It was an elegant square-rigged vessel, with tapering masts, painted a light green, if my memory is correct, and profusely, though tastefully, gilded; hence, in fact, the name.
On we rowed with the rapid tide, and after coursing along two or three hold sweeps of the river, Calcutta once more broke on my sight—the native town—Howrah—the splendid white buildings of the European quarter—its forest of shipping—swarming ghauts—multitudinous boats—and all the ant-hill scene of commerce, hustle, and animation, opening upon us in rapid succession, like the scenes of a diorama.
This approach to the City of Palaces, however, is by no means equal, in my opinion, to that from the seaward side. Widely different were my emotions when I next visited this spot.
After many years’ residence in the Upper Provinces, amongst rajahs, hill forts and Hindoo temples, holy shrines and sacred prayagas, groves resounding with the cry of the peacock, and Mahomedan ruins of departed grandeur, exploring the haunts of the savage Bheel, and pursuing the plundering Pindarry through the scenes of his maraudings, familiarized with scenes, manners, and customs wearing the impress of a hoary antiquity, and as far removed from the go-ahead things of European civilization as it is possible to imagine, I once more found myself off Calcutta.
With my mind thus saturated with new ideas—a sort of “sleepy hollow” state having come over me, and the recollections of “father-land” fast escaping from my still fondly tenacious grasp, the first sight of the tall masts of the shipping, as they burst on my view, on rounding a point, produced sensations of pleasure as hard to describe, as difficult to be forgotten; nor were these feelings diminished, when, gliding past the vessels themselves, I read “London,” “Liverpool,” and so forth, on their sterns, and beheld the rough red-shirted tars, my ruddy stalwart countrymen, as they gazed at us over the sides, or lounged in groups on the forecastle, and thought that in very truth but a brief period had elapsed since those fortunate fellows had been lying in some crowded bustling port of my own dear native land, with “all her faults,” still beloved and dear to me.