On returning to Kurrachee, the traveller would do well to take the railway to Agra, and the Taj, Benares, and other places, and so back again to Bombay and the ocean highways.
Henceforth, the character of the passengers on board ship changes somewhat; many of the Europeans leave for extended tours by rail to Calcutta and other Indian cities, their places being taken by Parsee merchants, rich Indians, and enterprising Chinamen, bound away on business.
The run to Colombo, Ceylon, 875 miles to the southward, is made over a warm, smooth sea, and on the evening of the fifth day the harbor is entered. Colombo is a steamship centre where all the vessels of the long trunk lines rendezvous to coal, provision, exchange passengers and frequently freight. They come from the four quarters of the globe, from Calcutta and Bombay in the north, from China and Singapore in the east, from Australia, Mauritius, and Africa in the south, and from Aden and the Suez Canal in the west. Colombo has much to attract a traveller during the 24 or 48 hours the steamer stays, but usually the Oriental Hotel claims his time and attention, for this is the place of meeting of all who go upon the waters, and high wassail is apt to be the order of the night.
The dining-room of the Oriental is the refreshment-room at the intersection of the chief steam lines of the world. It is, as it were, the restaurant of a Union depot where everyone must go for a meal; at its tables travellers from opposite points of the world meet, Chinese bound for Europe, Englishmen to report for Indian duty, French soldiers en route for Saigon, and Australians making the grand tour.
If the traveller has stayed in the same ship all the way from London, he has, by the time he arrives at Colombo, been 30 days en voyage and navigated a distance of 6,700 miles. By whatever line he has come, he should have enjoyed his life on board ship, for after the first day or two out from port acquaintances are made that rapidly ripen into good fellowship. Deck cricket, quoits, and cock-fighting enliven the forenoons; a novel and a nap wear away the afternoons; an innocent rubber with the ladies brightens the evenings; a good chorus begins the nights merrily, and a small game of draw shortens the dying hours.
Promenade Deck of an Orient Liner.
At Colombo often the best of friends must part, some to stay in the country, others to go to a different ship; for the choice of routes is varied, there being some 15 steamship lines radiating hence toward the attractive countries of Australia, Africa, the Dutch East Indies, China, Japan, India, and Europe.
The run up the coast from Ceylon past the French settlement of Pondicherry, where the French steamers touch, to Madras, 614 miles to the northward, is smooth sailing if the monsoon months of April, June, November, and December be avoided. A day in port is sufficient for landing the cargo, brought off in lighters manned by stalwart lascars, naked except for the narrowest of breech-clouts and the most enormous of turbans. The traveller, while at Madras, should see the Indian jugglers, and to do this comfortably, should make arrangements to have the exhibition held on board ship. Two or three natives, sitting on the open deck at his feet, place a mango-stone with a handful of dirt under an old cotton sheet, which, after talking gibberish, they remove, disclosing a small green sprout about 8 inches high. “Big mango?” is then inquired by the head juggler; “big mango?” Receiving assent, the twig is carefully recovered and incantations follow, while the jugglers slowly raise the centre of the sheet higher and higher, until finally, on removing it, there stands a mango-bush 5 feet high, bearing fruit which the juggler will pick and distribute. The trick is worth the $10 it has cost.