The reader may mentally alter the title of this concluding chapter to “At Last!” and if he has found my reminiscences dull or humdrum, he will soon have his reward by closing the book and consigning it to oblivion—or to Mudie’s cart!

Nevertheless, in glancing back over the foregoing pages—a retrospect of a retrospect—I seem to have fulfilled what I undertook at the outset—even though that be little.

Digressions there are, I know, “innumerable as the temples in Pagan,” to borrow an old Burmese proverb; and the bare outline of my story, stripped of such embellishments, might easily be reduced to the dimensions of a certain celebrated signboard, which set forth the fame of one John Thompson.

That worthy man, a hatter by trade, composed it himself as follows: “John Thompson, hatter; makes and sells hats for ready money,” under which was depicted a large hat. This he submitted to half a dozen cronies, who modified it as follows. The first thought the word “hatter” unnecessary, because followed by the words “makes hats.” It was therefore struck out. The next objected to the word “makes,” as no one, he argued, would care who made the hats, as long as they were good. That was also omitted.

A third found fault with the expression “sells,” as no one imagined for a moment that he gave them away. “Sells,” therefore, followed the fate of its predecessors. Another took exception at “hats,” in consideration of the painting underneath. Hats was accordingly obliterated.

The fifth condemned the clause referring to ready money, since that was the custom of the place; while the sixth and last, vexed beyond measure at finding nothing left to erase, would have pulled the signboard down bodily, but for the remonstrances of the others.

To resume the beginning of the end.

The business in teak-wood was now drawing to a close, for ere long the rains would cease, and there would no longer be any means of floating the timber down to the coast on the swollen tributaries of the Salween. Few vessels therefore remained, and the river looked deserted, but for an unusually large craft painted white, and therefore conspicuous in more ways than one.

She proved, on inquiry, to be an American vessel of considerable burden, chartered for the purpose of transporting elephants to Bengal; and as she was anchored in mid-stream, we went off to watch the process of embarking the invaluable creatures.

They were brought from the shore one by one on stout rafts, on which they behaved with the utmost decorum, evidently in blissful ignorance of their ultimate destination—the ship’s hold. If they thought about it at all, it was merely a case of transferring them to the opposite bank of the river, a proceeding frequently indulged in. The raft was then made fast to the further side of the ship; and some specially constructed gear was next lowered from a crane on the yard arm, and the elephant was slung in the broad leather bands attached to massive chains. Being accustomed to the “howdah” and belly bands, no notice was taken of this; but as soon as they found themselves hoisted off their feet and suspended in mid-air, mere words would fail to describe their puzzled expression.

On first rising, they trumpeted loudly, but as they reached greater altitudes, all power of uttering even a protest seemed to desert them, and anything more ludicrous I never beheld.

The tackle had been made very powerful, the average weight of the large elephants being calculated; but to guard against any possible mishap, the rafts were removed as soon as the pachyderms were fairly “under weigh,” so that, had the worst come to the worst, they would only have fallen into the water and swum ashore. When clear of the ship’s side, they were swung round until exactly over the main hold, and then lowered. Sometimes a foot would be planted on the combings; but a gentle tap from a capstan bar soon removed the impediment, and the leviathan disappeared below, there to be cabin’d, crib’d, confined, and ere long tossed about in the Bay of Bengal. I forget the exact number shipped on this occasion; but believe it was not far short of ninety, all fine, large animals, very different to anything ever seen in this country, not excepting the late lamented “Jumbo.”

It was impossible not to think of the pitiable condition of these poor beasts, should anything like bad weather overtake the ship out at sea: while the condition of the hold must have been anything but savoury at the best of times; and indeed the effluvia arising thence during the process of embarking robbed me of all desire to inspect their quarters.

They were, I believe, arranged in rows, a position in which they could afford each other some support during the varied movements of the ship; while they were further helped through the ordeal by their great stability in circumference of legs and feet, and the long, prehensile trunks, with which they could hold on to any convenient stanchions.

Indeed, on inquiring soon after our arrival at Calcutta, we learnt that they had all arrived safely and in good condition, so that they must be far better sailors than horses. Anything like mutiny in the hold might have led to serious consequences, considering that each animal was ten feet high, weighed about five tons, and possessed strength centred, according to Cuvier, in 40,000 muscles with a distinct or combined action, according to circumstances! Well, a panic ensuing among these monsters in the hold, numbering from fifty to ninety, would have been a scene of indescribable terror, besides probably occasioning the foundering of the ship and the loss of something between 12,000l. and 22,000l. in cargo alone, the average commercial value of such elephants being 250l. apiece.

When that widespread epidemic of elephant-mania broke out in England some years ago on account of “Jumbo,” who does not remember the sickening details of the ridiculous offerings at his shrine, and the no less idiotic fuss made over the paraphernalia for removing one such animal a few miles by land! Why, his “mahout” would have ridden him from the Zoo to the Docks in an hour at dead of night, and then walked him on board! Such things are managed differently in the East.

The process of embarking the elephants had such a fascination for me, that I should, if alone, in all probability have remained on board for the rest of the day. My friend, however, felt the pangs of hunger and insisted on returning. Dear old fellow! after nearly completing his career in India, without even the semblance of illness, he slipped from some vehicle and thereby contracted a troublesome malady which soon carried him off. He was a good husband, father, friend and doctor, regretted by all who knew him: and I have many a time stood by his grave near Cheltenham and thought of the pleasant times we had spent together in far-off climes, this trip in particular.

The distance intervening between Moulmein and the sea had already displayed to our admiring gaze some of the beauties of the well-wooded banks of the Salween; but an excellent opportunity now presented itself for exploring further up.

The Commissioner being about to start an inspection duty in his steam yacht, and very sensibly preferring company to solitude, organized a picnic party, in which I had the honour to be included. The affair was to be a kind of picnic by land and water, affording time to land at various places, with the performance of certain official duties, thus combining business with pleasure.

The commissariat devolved on the chief’s wife, and, with the assistance of a native cook, certainly acquitted herself admirably—such mulligatawny, and such salads! The scene on either side, as the river gradually narrowed, was very beautiful. From the wooded heights in the background, a bright pagoda peeped out here and there among vegetation more profuse and luxuriant than any I had ever seen since my journey on the Pegu river.

We visited several of the villages, which were very neat and built, as usual, on piles; but we soon discovered that distance lent enchantment to the view, and that a closer acquaintance brought us in contact with a formidable amalgamation of odours, not of the eau-de-Cologne order, a mÉlange of Jack-fruit, mango, and that curious native delicacy, to which I alluded in a former chapter, and which consists for the most part of fish not remarkable for its freshness!

While their houses were canopied with the thickest of foliage, the space around was kept clear of anything like undergrowth. Only a few bamboos were allowed to grow in each clump, about which a man could thread his way with ease. The survivors were consequently of large size—the largest I ever came across—the specimens cut for us as souvenirs measuring nine inches in diameter. Three joints of such a one I took back to Calcutta, one of which I had prettily carved for a present, while the others served as wine-coolers. The price asked by the natives for a bamboo sixty or seventy feet in length, including the cost of cutting up, was not exorbitant, amounting to about four annas, or sixpence. The dexterity with which it was levelled and cut up was almost unequalled, reminding one—ghastly reminiscence!—of the manner in which a Ghoorka handled his kookerie, when cutting off the heads of his prisoners. I once witnessed thirty severed in a row; and there was no keeping the bloodthirsty little demons from so disposing of their captives.

The Jack-fruit and plantain both revelled in that fertile soil, attaining to a large size; but as for the mango—oh, what a falling off was there! not off the trees, but in point of size and flavour. The ubiquitous crow of course abounded; paroquets flew away uttering discordant shrieks; and squirrels gambolled from bough to bough, running up and down the stems spiral wise.

Extremely picturesque were the costumes of the men and women squatting about in front of their dwellings, and especially the artistic way in which the latter coiled their jet-black hair and embellished it with flowers of a waxy appearance.

It certainly occurred to me that here, of all places on earth, the inhabitants ought to be happy and contented; nature had lavished her choicest gifts on them in such profusion, leaving them but little in the way of arduous occupation. Perhaps they were happy; they certainly seemed so, for all were well dressed, and I do not remember seeing a single beggar. And, from a knowledge of both, I should say that such simple villagers have a much better chance of present and future happiness than the inhabitants of some of our own villages, where for the most part the Christian virtues seem conspicuous by their absence.

Living in one for seven years in a private capacity, my services, in virtue of my profession, were nevertheless very frequently asked for and given, and I consequently saw a great deal of their inner life, which often startled and shocked me.

With all respect to General Booth, “Darkest England” exists in the rural districts, and not in London, where are centred the wealth, enterprise, benevolence and clerical power of the land. The country, on the other hand, remains in the shadow of death; and there stands the vineyard that requires labourers, who work to please their Master, and not merely for the loaves and fishes!

The party consisted of three or four married couples, a young unmarried lady and myself, a grass-widower of some eighteen months’ standing. Naturally, we two were thrown together during the day, and just as naturally we were accused of flirting. It was therefore with extreme concern that I attended to my torch, remembering my mishap in the same neighbourhood on a former occasion, as we presently explored some very pretty caves, which, for a reason which geologists may be able to explain, especially abound on the right bank.

This time, I reflected I was not alone, and if my torch were to go out, of course no one would believe that it was the result of accident. So at least I concluded, mindful of the proverbial charity that folks at large indulge in when criticizing their neighbours’ proceedings.

After lunch on the yacht, temptingly laid out and thoroughly appreciated, the boat’s head was turned, and we quietly steamed down to Moulmein. The day was full of interest from start to finish, and everyone thoroughly enjoyed it.

Something of the old schoolboy sensation, when his fleeting holidays are drawing to a close, stole over me as our steamer turned up a few days later to convey us back to a land associated with so many painful memories. Before the Mutiny, I could count my friends by scores; now most of them had perished, slaughtered with few exceptions by their own men in whom they reposed such blind and ill-requited confidence. Many of the old landmarks of the service were also to be swept away, and new ones set up in their place.

The prospect was uninviting to a degree; but as I could not afford to cut the painter for good and all, I had to make the best of a bad bargain. At any rate, we were, under our old masters, content and happy, and should have been prosperous as well, but for an event, for which those at home were more to blame than the people on the spot.

What were the chances of improvement now, with more home interference on the part of those who knew not the East? Time alone could show! I had certainly enjoyed myself, and in some measure my Burmese trip had done me good; but now the reaction was setting in, and I began to question whether it would not have been better after all to have stayed on the spot and lived down the disagreeables. Hard work is without a doubt the best panacea for all manner of troubles; and not, as so many aver, an unceasing round of pleasure and fictitious excitement.

My feelings had partaken very much of the same character as those of a party of young children I once upon a time escorted to their first seaside holiday, and then brought back after a month’s enjoyment of the indescribable delights which any of our watering places afford such juveniles. Going, they were all sunshine and excitement, never ceasing to prattle about their coming excursions and amusements, and even setting the other occupants of the carriage in a roar of laughter by their ingenuous attempts to pronounce the dreadful Welsh names of the stations through which we passed.

Very different was the return journey; all was dark without and sad within; hardly a word spoken from beginning to end; stations unnoticed and uncared for, and even the “goodies” eaten in silence.

And I felt sad too at the prospect of returning to India. For a time, I was diverted by the fatiguing process of packing; though it was only by the aid of a zealous and painstaking domestic, who ignored the mosquitoes and the exertion, that I finally succeeded in stowing away all the vases, teapots, cups and saucers, heathen gods and goddesses, bamboos, etc., regretting the while that I had ever been prevailed upon to buy them. I was therefore not sorry at having failed to secure a couple of Pegu ponies for transmission to India. Their price alone—Rs. 300 for an animal that formerly cost one-tenth of that price—placed me out of the ring; and the trouble and expenses attendant on the transport of live stock must have been considerable. As a speculation, it might have answered; but whatever gifts Nature may have lavished broadcast upon me, the bump of “barter” was only developed in a very rudimentary state. After packing came the still more painful operation of leave-taking, and we were soon steaming down the river for the last time. Several handkerchiefs waving from a verandah grew less distinct, until a bend in the stream hid them from view.

We were taken back by the same adventurous, independent captain, a buoyant person of the Mark Tapley order, who gave us one more proof of his undeniable force of will. We had reached the Sand Heads, about a hundred and twenty miles from Calcutta, when a dispute arose as to whether we should be up in time to land that evening. Two circumstances militated strongly against us, the strength of the outward current and the rule that forbade any navigation after sunset among the shipping that lay off the town. But the captain swore he would be ashore in time to dine with his wife; and he kept his word. The wheels revolved faster, the wave of cleavage rose higher; and the inquiries of the engineer were ever met with “Give her as much more as you can!” As the daylight began to ebb, the smell of fire was distinctly perceptible, and smoke was issuing from various chinks. A number of Lascars too might be seen emptying buckets over the deck. Still the captain kept his course; and at last, the observed of all observers, we passed the shipping and reached our moorings, and were at rest.

I took a boat and went ashore, and——Chaos came again!