Chapter 13

I descended to breakfast the next day rather later than was my wont. I had lain awake for a long time trying to make sense of what I had found, but each time I tried to think of what had happened to me, my mind shied away as if from something too horrible to dwell on. In the morning after the maid had brought my tea and set the fire I went to my knees and prayed to St Agnes, as the patron of maidens, to intercede for me and after some while began to feel a little better. I rose and inspected my appearance in the looking-glass. My eyes seemed puffy and my expression sombre - something quite inappropriate for the pleasure-trip to London that had been arranged for the day. I called for a basin of cold water and washed my face thoroughly first in the hot, then in the cold water. I considered my appearance once more in the looking-glass. It would serve, I decided, provided I was careful to assume a light-hearted air.

After breakfast we assembled at the head of the drive. Mr Uttridge seemed in a jovial mood at the thought of the outing. Thomas held his father’s hand and, perhaps taking his mood from his parent’s, also appeared to have more high spirits than was usual for him. I bestowed counterfeit smiles on both.

Abrahams was standing by the brougham waiting to hand us in, and we took our places and headed for the station. We made light conversation about the improvement in the weather and of Thomas’ progress with his studies and I felt that my demeanour passed muster.

Once more I climbed aboard the bright-green engine, this time reversing my first journey and travelling back towards London. Slightly to my surprise, we were not travelling all the way to the London terminus at Bishopsgate, but rather to the station before, this being Mile End at the outskirts of the capital. Mr Uttridge explained the reason.

“The East India Company, for which I had the honour to work, is the greatest commercial organisation the world has ever seen. Similarly, its ships that carry the wealth of the Indies are larger than anything ever built before and are rightly termed the ‘Lords of the Oceans’. They are so large that they could not berth in the Pool of London and new docks had to be excavated downstream of the Isle of Dogs to accommodate them. That is where we are bound - the East India Docks.”

As on our previous railway journey, Thomas was vastly amused by the sights and sounds of the expedition. It was however a much longer excursion on this occasion and as time passed, the novelty began to pall and he demanded more attention from his father and myself. I was a little at a loss as I had not thought it necessary to bring any books with me, but fortunately I remembered that my copy of Bradshaw had an illustration showing the interior of the Royal Railway Carriage. I leafed to the page and showed it to him.

“See, Thomas, the Queen and Prince Albert use the railway too, but they have a special compartment just to themselves.”

He looked at the page and said, “Which lady is the Queen?”

“The one on the right, with her eldest son, Edward. He is nine years old, so rather older than you.”

“Who are the other people?” he asked, pointing to the young lady and gentleman elsewhere in the picture.

“Well, I’m not quite sure: perhaps she is Edward’s nurse or perhaps she is a lady-in-waiting.”

This of course generated many more questions and we passed the time quite happily, speculating on where they were going and marvelling at the luxury of the carriage.

It was a little before noon that we arrived at Mile End. Mr Uttridge hailed a four-wheeler and we set out for the docks. A short journey brought us to our destination, and the cab deposited us at the entrance gate. The gate itself was large and was set into a brick wall fully fifteen feet high, which seemed to run indefinitely both to the left and the right. To my carefully repressed excitement, I could see a forest of masts protruding beyond the wall. I pointed them out to Thomas.

My employer identified himself to the gatekeepers and exchanged a few words of inquiry, after which we proceeded inside. It was borne in upon me once more how lamentably narrow had been my upbringing in the Lakes. The sight almost defied belief. Many acres of water stretched in front and to either side of me, and on the water were the most enormous and magnificent ships, with their masts and yards towering to the skies and festooned with innumerable ropes and rigging. Around them scurried many small craft attending on the giants.

There was much activity about us as labourers worked to load and unload the vessels, taking the goods on carts or barrows to the vast warehouses that backed the quay. Some sailors also sauntered about, dressed for the most part in short jackets and striped breeches and looked at me curiously; a woman being no doubt unusual in the dockyard. I held firmly onto the hand of the child to make my position clear and deter any familiarity.

Mr Uttridge led the way along the quayside for some distance, explaining that he had been informed that the ship was berthed in this direction. At last he gave an expression of satisfaction and pointed to the bow of the ship nearest us.

“The Seringapatam,” he announced. “I am acquainted with her captain, Mr Lovell.”

We went on board by a gangplank and yet again I was overawed by the experience. I had never been on a vessel of any kind, and here I was on the deck of one the largest ships in the world! The rigging swirled about me, reaching up to the highest points. At the peak of the main-mast flew the company flag - red and white stripes with the union colours in the canton. The great sails were furled about the yards in enormous bundles of canvas.

An officer, very handsome and smart in his uniform of blue coat and white breeches, hurried up to us, smiling a greeting.

“Good morning Sir and madam!” he said. “My name is Jenkins, and I am Officer of the Watch at this time. Have I the pleasure of meeting Mr Thomas Uttridge?”

“That is my name, sir,” replied that gentleman. “And may I introduce my son Thomas, and his governess, Miss Greencliffe.”

“I am delighted to make your acquaintances. Captain Lovell has unfortunately been detained at the Company’s offices, but he has given me instructions to help you in every way. Will you kindly follow me to the captain’s cabin?”

Despite the magnificence of the ship, I found I still had to use the companionway to get below decks. It is difficult to use a ladder in a ladylike fashion but Jenkins reached up for little Thomas, then the gentlemen tactfully busied themselves with him while I descended.

The captain’s cabin was a wonder of luxury and decoration. Exotic woods and inlays abounded as did the gleam of brassware. We seated ourselves on a most comfortable couch, while Jenkins took the chair by the desk.

“Did you have a good voyage, Lieutenant?” asked my employer.

“Tolerably good, sir. A little over six months round the Cape. We spotted what we thought were pirate ships, but we carry a good weight of metal and they did not care to debate the issue with us. But before we come to business, may I offer you some wine?”

We accepted and a steward was summoned who poured us a good French wine and brought lemonade for Thomas. Light conversation was made until it was generally felt that we could attend to the matters for which we were making our visit.

Lieutenant Jenkins picked up a sheet of paper from the desk, conned it for a short while, and handed it to Mr Uttridge.

“I believe these are the articles you ordered, sir?” he asked

Mr Uttridge took the paper and read it in his turn. “That is all correct,” he said. “I am pleased to see that you have managed to obtain all the items on my list.”

“We are pleased to be able to assist you, sir. If you would care to return to the deck, I believe your consignment is waiting for you.”

We ascended the companionway, which I found much easier going up. On deck again, we found one of the sailors standing next to a tea chest.

“Here you are, sir,” said the lieutenant. “Simkins here will carry your goods to the gate.”

Thanks and handshakes were exchanged all round, then we trooped off the vessel with Simkins in the lead.

Back at the gate, my employer gave the sailor a small sum, which he accepted with a nod and a knuckled forehead. Several cabs were waiting to serve such officers and officials that needed to leave the dockyard and we hired one to take us back to Mile End station and thence to Wymondham to be met by a coachman. When we were finally back at the Hall with our booty I found that the entire expedition had taken a little over six hours; such is the expediency of modern transport!

Our conversation after dinner that evening was much gayer than usual. Little Thomas had been exhilarated by the sights and sounds of the docks and chattered away happily; confiding that he wanted to be a sailor when he became a man; an ambition which his father heard with an indulgent smile. For myself, I found that the distress that I had felt that morning had been much ameliorated.

In our discussions I expressed my admiration for the great scale of the East India Company enterprise and to satisfy my curiosity asked: “Would it be impertinent, sir, to ask what articles you purchased today?”

“Not at all, madam. They are mainly spices for use in cooking the Indian dishes of which I became very fond of during my years of residence. They include cinnamon bark, turmeric, cumin seeds, cardamom pods and so on. Most of these are almost unobtainable in England, so perhaps once a year I apply to a captain of an East Indian Company ship that is about to make the voyage to ask if he would, for a consideration, obtain these condiments for me. They cost almost nothing in the bazaar, so he makes a handsome profit for little effort, while I am able to satisfy my taste for pungent foods. We will, if it pleases you, try one of those dishes in a day or so for dinner.”

“That would be most pleasant and interesting,” I replied. “While we are speaking of India can you tell me a little more of life in that country? I understand that they have many festivals.”

“Indeed. The festivals, very much as do our own Easter, Whitsun, and Christmas, mark the turning of the seasons. In the spring is the joyful time of Holi, when the Hindoo celebrates the slaying of a demoness of that name. It is a time of laughter, when they throw coloured powders at each other and feast and sing throughout the night.

“At the mid-year there is the Chariot Festival, Rath Vatra, in honour of Lord Jagannath who is reverenced as one of the forms of Vishnu, the god of protection. An enormous wooden vehicle, larger than a house and brightly painted, is built to carry the idol. It is pulled by hundreds of devotees along the streets of the town to a temple, while the populace shout their acclaim. It is not unknown for worshippers in a frenzy of adoration to throw themselves under the great wheels of the chariot and be crushed to death.

“In the autumn is the solemn time of Diwali; the festival of light. ‘Diwali’ meaning a lamp in their language. The legend runs that the god Rama and his devoted wife Sita were exiled by the king to a great forest for fourteen years. At the end of that time the villagers went out with lamps to guide them home. It is a time of renewal, when the people clean their houses; dress in their best clothes and exchange gifts.

“But as I believe I may have mentioned, in Orissa where I was stationed, the veneration of the goddess Kali is paramount, and there Diwali is overshadowed by the great festival of Kali Puja, which falls at about the same time. It is a most fervent affair. The worshippers parade through the streets in great numbers, banging drums and chanting prayers in honour of the goddess. The men wear white breeches and are naked to the waist. That night, animals will be ritually sacrificed to her and she will be given the prescribed offerings of red hibiscus flowers; animal blood in a skull; fish and meat. Later, many will breathe aromatic smoke from braziers which makes them see visions.”

I shuddered at the vivid pictures which his description conjured up. I was about to reply when I observed that Thomas, perhaps fortunately understanding little of our conversation, was beginning to look sleepy. I pointed this out to Mr Uttridge who summoned Nurse to take him to bed. I also said my goodnights to both and retired to my room well satisfied with the day’s adventures.