CHAPTER V. AT MADRAS. WHILE awaiting the arrival of the steamer at Galle for passage to Madras, a vessel came in with a great surprise on board. It had brought back from the grave, as it were, one half of the survivors of a New-Zealand-bound vessel that had been a whole twelvemonth unheard of. Those passengers of the ill-fated" Strathmore" who were now landed at Ceylon had been for nine months on the Crozet Islands, or one of that group. Subsisting there for so long mainly upon the eggs of sea-birds, the hair of most of them had become of a yellowish colour. That it had got of this fashionable tint without the aid of expensive dyes they attributed solely to their late dietary. A passing vessel had at last noticed their flag of distress and taken away the survivors. Being too many for this vessel's larder, one half of the number had been taken on board a barque bound for Rangoon. Ceylon was the first land these people had seen, other than the cold and sterile Crozets, since they had, a year before, left England. It must have been to them as if they had achieved Paradise. What little clothing could be mustered had been distributed among them, and these misfitting things, and their ragged beards and queer-coloured heads of hair, made them the strangest-looking of scarecrows. A few hours afterwards they were in other outfits, and, by barbers' help, scarcely recognizable. On the morning of the next day the "Poonah" drops anchor off Madras, and I get a first view of the shores of India. It is not a very prepossessing one at this part. The city, which lies a good half-mile away, stands on a low, level site, and there is little to invite one in its appearance. This city by the sea stands all unsheltered by breakwater or harbour, the long rolling billows breaking for ever on its beach in a mist of surfy spray. There is much of head-shaking and doubtful looks at this rolling surf by those who are for the shore. No great eagerness is shown in getting luggage ready, nor is there the hurry, scurry, and bustle to be seen, such as is usual after letting go the anchor. Various black-looking objects are to be noticed now and again on the crests of the surf, and these soon prove to be a crowd of boats, which are coming, energetically enough, for the apathetic passengers. In half an hour we are surrounded by about twenty of what are seen to be large surf-boats, each requiring the services of ten boatmen. The men and their boats and belongings are really novelties in every way-but that which is pleasing. These are the famous surf-boats and boatmen of Madras, about whom one had read and heard, now and again, from childhood. This much may be said, that, unlike many sights, the surf, the boats, and their owners, were beyond expectation. As for the surf, the general opinion among us seemed to be that Madras in its present position was a great mistake, and that those who built on such an unprotected shore should have come to the watery grave that they have caused to so many others. It will never be known how many have been drowned in landing at or leaving Madras. These surf-boats are rudely-built little barges, having several sticks of bamboo stretched from side to side as seats for the rowers. As the boatmen have no clothing, this sort of seat looks especially uncomfortable, and yet it must be stuck to, as five feet or so below is a pool of bilgewater awaiting them. The primitive fastening of cocoanut-fibre cordage has been used instead of nails to secure plank to plank in these boats, which have at the stern a place set apart for passengers. Here a screen of much-used canvas is rigged up, should any lady happen to be taken on board. The oars in use are bamboo sticks, having triangular pieces of the size of a ship's log fastened with cordage to the end. The boat's sides are so high that, although the bamboo sculls are lengthy, the water is only touched by the little addition so made to the end of them. It was noticeable that, when the first officer made for the shore, the ship's boat was not put to use, nor the ship's men. It was to one of these surf-boats that he trusted himself, and to the care of its ten boatmen. Ah, those boatmen! will one ever forget them? They swarmed up the sides of the ship and invaded its poop in their competition for passengers. They frightened even the ship's cat from the deck-they were so rough-looking and so noisy, and so much in want of clothing. The smallest of dirty rags, secured by a piece of string, served as an apology for an apron, and that was folded up at one corner to hold tin tickets, which it is the object of these demoniacal-looking beings to get one to take. These badges bear numbers on them corresponding with the particular boat that you are supposed to be booked for, if you take the ticket. The rough, dangerous life these men lead seems to make them regardless of all manners, and quite unconscious of blows and kicks. These they get in plenty from the ship's people, in staying their endeavours to seize and carry down to their boats any article of luggage about the deck. To get the luggage was, in their ideas, to get the passenger to follow. Yet these men do not value their lives a pin's fee, and dare all the dangers encountered by the adventurous Deal lifeboat men, and that daily. Any mistake they may make is corrected by an enormous billow of heaving water, twenty feet or so high, that washes them off their bamboo perches altogether. Their stick of a bamboo oar, and their skill in swimming, can then alone save them, if their strength should serve to fight their way through the surf to the shore-and no shark be too quick for them. The boat that I get into has three other passengers. The very getting into it was perilous matter enough, so rough is the water on this coast. The mass of boats, and crowd of |