MARCHING.
The small but heavy boxes containing the rupees were placed upon the hackeries (native carts), and the treasure party was now ready to march to the next encampment. The night was warm, and the Sepoys in what might strictly be termed half-dress. They wore their red cloth coats and their chacos; but their lower clothing was purely native; a dhotee (narrow strip of thick calico) wound round their loins, and falling in graceful folds about and below the knees. Some sat upon the boxes of treasure: others, not in line or military order, walked by the side thereof. The Lieutenant, Maun Singh, and myself brought up the rear. A syce (native groom) led the horse, and thus saved the Lieutenant the trouble of driving. The buggy was not, certainly, a very elegant affair. It was of very ancient construction, and the lining was entirely worn out; nor had the panels been painted for some years. The Lieutenant told me that he had bought this vehicle at a sale, five years previously, for the sum of five pounds, and that since that time it had travelled (marched, was the word he used) all over Bengal. The harness was of Cawnpore make; and, when new, had cost only two pounds ten shillings. Cawnpore, until recently, was chiefly famous for its harness, boots and shoes, bottle-covers, cheroot-cases, helmets, and other articles made of leather. A nest of Chinese settled in the bazaar many years ago and introduced the manufacture of such matters. The horse which drew the buggy had been a caster; that is to say, a horse considered no longer fit for the cavalry or horse artillery, and sold by public auction, after being branded with the letter R (signifying rejected) on the near shoulder. He was a tall, well-bred animal; and, according to the Lieutenant's account, had won no end of races since the day he had been knocked down to the Lieutenant for sixteen rupees, or one pound twelve shillings. The fault, or rather the misfortune, for which this animal had been dismissed the Company's service, was total blindness of one eye, and an inability to see much out of the other.
"But, he is a ripper, nevertheless," said the Lieutenant, touching the animal very gently with the whip, and making him hold his head up; "and will put some more money in my pocket next cold weather, I hope. He is entered for the Merchant's Plate, gentlemen riders, sir, and I am his jockey." I expressed a hope that he would be successful.
It was a moonlight night, and slow as was the pace at which we proceeded, I never so much enjoyed a ride in my life. The scene altogether was highly picturesque, and, as far as I was concerned, had the wonderful charm of novelty; while it was impossible not to be extremely entertained by the volubility and lightheartedness of my military friend, who, notwithstanding he had extracted from me that I did not belong to the civil service or the army, had refrained from inquiring my name or pursuit, and invariably addressed me as Old Boy, albeit my years were certainly not in excess of his own.
"Well, Maun Singh!" cried the Lieutenant, "how do you feel now?"
"Quite well, but very weak," was the Sepoy's reply.
"Then you must have a little drop of weak brandy-and-water. Hold hard, syce, and give me the suraiee (water-bottle)."
The brandy-and-water was mixed in a silver tumbler, and handed to Maun Singh, who, as soon as the groom went again to the horse's head, applied it to his lips, and drank, without any scruple. On the contrary, it struck me that he liked the liquor.
"You have lost your caste," said the Lieutenant, jocularly. "You ought to have drunk it, you know, as medicine, out of your own lota (brass vessel)."
This observation—made with a view to draw the Sepoy out for my edification—had its effect. It was thus Maun Singh discoursed, while the Lieutenant and myself smoked our cheroots on either side of him:—