- end_line
- 6744
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6672
- text
- CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE IRRAWADDY
Among the various ships lying in Prince’s Dock, none interested me more
than the Irrawaddy, of Bombay, a _“country ship,”_ which is the name
bestowed by Europeans upon the large native vessels of India. Forty
years ago, these merchantmen were nearly the largest in the world; and
they still exceed the generality. They are built of the celebrated teak
wood, the oak of the East, or in Eastern phrase, _“the King of the
Oaks.”_ The Irrawaddy had just arrived from Hindostan, with a cargo of
cotton. She was manned by forty or fifty Lascars, the native seamen of
India, who seemed to be immediately governed by a countryman of theirs
of a higher caste. While his inferiors went about in strips of white
linen, this dignitary was arrayed in a red army-coat, brilliant with
gold lace, a cocked hat, and drawn sword. But the general effect was
quite spoiled by his bare feet.
In discharging the cargo, his business seemed to consist in
flagellating the crew with the flat of his saber, an exercise in which
long practice had made him exceedingly expert. The poor fellows jumped
away with the tackle-rope, elastic as cats.
One Sunday, I went aboard of the Irrawaddy, when this oriental usher
accosted me at the gangway, with his sword at my throat. I gently
pushed it aside, making a sign expressive of the pacific character of
my motives in paying a visit to the ship. Whereupon he very
considerately let me pass.
I thought I was in Pegu, so strangely woody was the smell of the
dark-colored timbers, whose odor was heightened by the rigging of
_kayar,_ or cocoa-nut fiber.
The Lascars were on the forecastle-deck. Among them were Malays,
Mahrattas, Burmese, Siamese, and Cingalese. They were seated round
“kids” full of rice, from which, according to their invariable custom,
they helped themselves with one hand, the other being reserved for
quite another purpose. They were chattering like magpies in
Hindostanee, but I found that several of them could also speak very
good English. They were a small-limbed, wiry, tawny set; and I was
informed made excellent seamen, though ill adapted to stand the
hardships of northern voyaging.
They told me that seven of their number had died on the passage from
Bombay; two or three after crossing the Tropic of Cancer, and the rest
met their fate in the Channel, where the ship had been tost about in
violent seas, attended with cold rains, peculiar to that vicinity. Two
more had been lost overboard from the flying-jib-boom.
I was condoling with a young English cabin-boy on board, upon the loss
of these poor fellows, when he said it was their own fault; they would
never wear monkey-jackets, but clung to their thin India robes, even in
the bitterest weather. He talked about them much as a farmer would
about the loss of so many sheep by the murrain.
The captain of the vessel was an Englishman, as were also the three
mates, master and boatswain. These officers lived astern in the cabin,
where every Sunday they read the Church of England’s prayers, while the
heathen at the other end of the ship were left to their false gods and
idols. And thus, with Christianity on the quarter-deck, and paganism on
the forecastle, the Irrawaddy ploughed the sea.
As if to symbolize this state of things, the _“fancy piece”_ astern
comprised, among numerous other carved decorations, a cross and a
miter; while forward, on the bows, was a sort of devil for a
figure-head—a dragon-shaped creature, with a fiery red mouth, and a
switchy-looking tail.
After her cargo was discharged, which was done “to the sound of flutes
and soft recorders”—something as work is done in the navy to the music
of the boatswain’s pipe—the Lascars were set to _“stripping the ship”_
that is, to sending down all her spars and ropes.
- title
- Chunk 1