Away they went on their trip to shore, the crew singing the same kind of song they had heard at Pondicherry, and rowing with curious-looking oars or paddles that had quite a resemblance to enormous tea-spoons. As they neared the land, the waves rolling in from the sea were not a pleasant sight, and the situation was not improved when the men stopped rowing just outside the line of surf and demanded double pay before going in. This is a favorite trick with the Madras boatmen, and it frequently succeeds where the passengers are timorous: this time it did not work to their satisfaction, as the Doctor peremptorily ordered them to row back to the steamer if they were unwilling to keep to their bargain. Finding themselves foiled, they pulled away at the oars, keeping the head of the boat straight on for the shore. She rose on one wave, and then on the next and the next: there are generally three lines of waves pursuing one another, and the third, counting from the outside, is the one that breaks into surf.
As they struck the sand with the surf the boatmen sprung out and ran the boat out of reach of the next wave. A little water was taken into the stern of the boat in the shape of spray, just as they rose on the crest of the last wave; Frank was slightly sprinkled with it, but the Doctor and Fred escaped without the least wetting.
From the sand they were carried by the men to dry ground, and as soon as they were fairly on their feet a great clamor was raised by the crew for extra pay. The Doctor told them it would be due when they returned to the ship and not before, and without more words the trio walked off with their satchels, to which they had clung.
A CATAMARAN.
The masullah-boat is not the only kind of craft that passes through the surf at Madras. Just as they landed, Frank and Fred saw a sort of raft with two men on it boldly launching into the waves, and it was followed by another with only one man on it. The Doctor explained that these rafts or catamarans were made of three logs that turned up at the ends, and were lashed side by side, and they were chiefly used for taking letters and light parcels from ship to shore, or from shore to ship. The men that manage them have high hats with pockets in the lining, and everything they carry is put there for safety.
At the side of the street, just above the beach, stood a garry, or carriage, which the Doctor engaged to take them to the principal hotel. The crowd of boatmen and beach attendants followed, and pressed so closely that it needed several strokes of the umbrellas of our friends to keep them even a yard away, and, as they entered the carriage, a dozen hands were thrust into the windows with demands for backsheesh. Some of these fellows followed the carriage for nearly half a mile, shouting their complaints, and making a vain effort to be bought off. Doctor Bronson said they were the most persistent beggars he had ever seen, with the possible exception of the Arabs at the great pyramids in Egypt, and it was quite possible that the latter might learn a lesson from the beach-combers of Madras.
With the crowd shaken off at last, our friends had a chance to look around them and obtain their first impression of Madras.
The city stands on a plain close to the sea, and extends seven or eight miles along the coast. The view, as one approaches it from the water, is quite picturesque; between the beach and the first line of buildings there is a wide street, in which we see a good deal of activity in the early and late hours of the day, but very little when the sun is at or near the meridian. The densest part of the city is in the neighborhood of the long pier, and for nearly a mile up and down the shore the line of buildings is almost unbroken. This part of Madras is called the Black Town, and nearly all the business of the place is conducted here; in the rest of the city the buildings are much more scattered than in the Black Town, and, altogether, Madras is said to cover an area of about thirty square miles.