to the harbour,
and then we had a hot walk to the end of the wharf. Such a struggle
there was at the slip down to the small boats; four or five boats were
trying to land natives, and at the same time as many were trying to take
passengers and natives off. It would have been impossible for a single
lady. The native police in neighbourhood were of no use. I'd have
thought British port authorities would have done something better. We
rowed out to the steamer in the middle of harbour, our four rowers
bucking in for a place, and scrambled on to the ship's gangway, without
any attention from anyone on board. Other boats with native passengers
trying to scramble over us required a shove and a heave or two on my
part to keep them off. I'd made a great effort to secure berths clearly
and distinctly at the British India S. S. Agency, made various
expeditions to the agents to see that all was right, but when we got to
our cabin some young men were also allotted berths in it. They were most
polite, but all the same it was uncomfortable for them and for us to
have all their belongings moved.

... Four was the hour to sail. Now it is six and no sign of up anchor.
But why hurry? There is life enough to study for weeks, the main deck a
solid mass of natives, all sitting close as penguins or guillemots, each
family party on a tiny portion of deck, with their mats and tins and
brass pots beside them, and what a babble! and pungent smell of South
Indian humanity.

The sun goes down and Madras resolves itself into a low coast line,
purple against streaks of orange and vermilion: some palms and a few
chimney stalks break the level of houses and lower trees. The _Renown_
lies near us waiting to go for the Prince to convoy him to Rangoon; its
white hull looks green against the orange sunset.

[Illustration]

There was nothing but necessity made the old settlers drop anchor here;
a bend of the Silvery Cooum[18] gave them slight protection inland, but
there was nothing in the way of roads or shelter. The sandy coast is
dead straight. They did not know the qualities of the surf at first. Two
experienced men were sent ashore from the "Globe" in 1611, and were
promptly swamped and one nearly drowned; that was further up this
Coromandel coast, when the Company was only beginning to try to find
footing here. It was not till 1639 that they bought the land where
Madras stands to-day, for the Company. These old fellows coming back
to-day from the