“That is a difficult question to answer in a few words. We must hope that it will be acceptable as such, for its votaries are, at least, sincere.”
“Oh! no one can deny the warmth of their devotion,” observed Courtenay, drily.
The extreme heat and effluvia from the crowds of natives, who witnessed the performance, forced Captain M— and his companions unwillingly to abandon a scene so novel to an European. At the proposal of their conductor, they agreed to continue their walk to the outskirts of the village.
“I have often been ashore at this village,” said the captain, “for they make the small mats here which are much in request at Calcutta, and I have frequent commissions for them. I can show you a novelty, if you wish, but I warn you that it will not be a very agreeable sight. The nullah that runs up here, frequently leaves the dead bodies on the bank. It is now half-ebb, and if you wish to be introduced to vultures and jackals, I can show you plenty. But prepare yourself for a disgusting sight, for these animals do not congregate without a cause.”
“To prey on the dead bodies, I presume?” replied Captain M—; “but as I have never seen these animals in their wild state, my curiosity bears down any anticipation of disgust. Let me not, however, influence those who do not feel inclined to encounter it.”
“After witnessing that dance,” observed Courtenay, taking a pinch of snuff, “I am fully prepared for any supper—it is impossible to be more disgusting.”
Macallan and Seymour having expressed a wish to proceed, the pilot captain led the way, observing—“These animals are very necessary in the climates to which they are indigenous: they do the duty on shore which the alligators do in the water—that of public scavengers. The number of bodies that are launched into the Ganges is incredible. If a Hindoo is sick, he is brought down to the banks by his relatives, and if he does not recover, is thrown into the river. It is said, indeed, that if they are known to have money, their relatives do not wait till nature tires with their own exertions, but stop their mouths with clay, to prevent the possibility of recovery. There is a strong eddy round this point, and the bodies are swept into the nullah, and lie dry at the ebb.”
“What do you call a nullah?” inquired Seymour.
“A nullah means a creek.”
“I was so stupidly proud that I did not like to ask; but as Seymour had set the example,” added Courtenay, “pray what is a ghaut?”