Thenceforth, their days and nights provided an uneventful record of quiet travel. They reached Allahabad next day, and the local Kotwal was minded to give them some trouble. He was cowed instantly when Walter exhibited Akbar’s order to the Treasurer, which he had forgotten to hand to Ibrahim with the receipt. Nevertheless, being now well versed in the ways of Indian officials, he marveled at the man’s hectoring manners, since this city, situated at the confluence of the Ganges and the Jumna, was one of the chief resting-places for merchants passing between the Mogul capital and the Hughli delta. Even at that date the Bay of Bengal was becoming noted as the site of important trading stations. It was passing strange that the civil head of Allahabad should be so impolitic.

No restrictions were placed on his movements, however, and the incident scarce demanded further thought. Indeed, the Kotwal deigned to help him by ordering his men to belabor the curious crowds which hampered progress through the bazaar, for the fame of Sainton’s stature spread like wild-fire, and numbers of mild-eyed Hindus came to gaze at him.

Here, they were able to test the value of Nur Mahal’s gift. Deeming it wise to replenish their small stock of ready money, eked out as it was by a sum which she had entrusted to Jai Singh for the expenses of the escort, they sold four small diamonds in the bazaar. The gems brought a thousand rupees, after some bargaining, so it was evident, even to non-experts, that the two hundred stones in the little cedar cabinet, some being very large and pure, must be worth even more than the price estimated.

With the money thus obtained they purchased three roomy, flat-bottomed boats, spacious enough to house the whole party, man and horse. Assured that there would be no difficulty in securing food and fodder on the long river voyage they did not burthen their craft with a bulk of stores. Nevertheless, their preparations, though simple, consumed several days, for, to the native of India, Kal (to-morrow) is as precious a word as Mañana to the Spaniard.

At last, after a weary delay, towards which Mowbray strongly suspected the Kotwal contributed indirectly, the huge, osier-woven sails of their buggalows were hoisted, and the unwieldy caravels lumbered slowly down stream. Owing to the ever-changing channel, the numerous sand-banks, the occasional barriers of half sunken trees and other débris, they could only move during the hours of daylight. At night they tied up near some village, where young goats, eggs, poultry, milk, and grain were obtainable. At times, the people were so poor that even these primary commodities ran short, but, on the whole, they fared well. A week’s quiet voyaging did wonders for their horses. The hardy country-breds became sleek and fat. When taken ashore for exercise they would plunge and caper for sheer liveliness. One evening, after they had passed Benares, some such ebullition on the part of the powerful stallion which carried Sainton during the march from Agra caused his master to growl:—

“It seems a daft thing to me, Walter, to ferry these ill-mannered brutes so far. They are in good condition now. Why not sell them at the next big town, and let Jai Singh purchase others for his return up country?”

“I have been thinking of that same plan,” agreed his friend. “Let us consult Jai Singh, and hear what he says.”

But the shrewd old Rajput opposed the suggestion. He pleaded that no such cattle could be bought in Lower Bengal, and that they themselves would be glad of good mounts when they quitted the river to ride into Calcutta. The argument prevailed, though his real intent was to sell the animals as soon as their backs were turned and procure wretched tats for himself and his comrades, thereby netting a very handsome profit.

In life, it is ever the trivial things that count. A straw would have swayed them to barter the horses at Dinapore. Had they done so this history would have changed its course.

It was their custom to pass through populous places without stopping. Seen from the banks, they attracted little attention, which suited their purpose better than to leave behind them a trial of surmise and gossip. The dull villagers they encountered had no ideas beyond the state of the crops and the prospect of an early monsoon. Hence, they slipped quietly, if slowly, over a very long stretch of their journey to the sea without any important event breaking the monotony of peaceful nights and restful days.