At 1 o'clock, P.M., we anchored at a considerable distance (six
miles) from Madras. The anchoring place here is the most dangerous
in the world, the ground-swell being so strong that at no time can
large vessels approach near the town, and many weeks often pass
without even a boat being able to do so. Ships, consequently, only
stop a very short time, and there are rarely more than a dozen to be
seen riding at anchor. Large boats, rowed by ten or twelve men,
come alongside them to take the passengers, letters, and merchandise
ashore.
The steamer stops here eight hours, which may be spent in viewing
the town, though any one so doing runs a chance of being left
behind, as the wind is constantly changing. I trusted to the good
luck which had always attended me during my travels, and made one of
the party that disembarked; but we had not got more than half way to
land when I was punished for my curiosity. It began to rain most
fearfully, and we were very soon wet to the skin. We took refuge in
the first coffee-house we saw, situated at the water's edge; the
rain had now assumed a tropical character, and we were unable to
leave our asylum. As soon as the storm had passed by, a cry was
raised for us to return as quickly as possible, as there was no
knowing what might follow.
A speculative baker of Madras had come out in the first boat that
reached the steamer with ice and biscuits for sale, which he
disposed of very much to his profit.
The angry heavens at length took compassion on us and cleared up
before sunset. We were then enabled to see the palace-like
dwellings of the Europeans, built half in the Grecian and half in
the Italian style of architecture, stretching along the shore and
beautifully lighted by the sun. Besides these, there were others
standing outside the town in the midst of magnificent gardens.
Before we left, a number of natives ventured to us in small boats
with fruit, fish, and other trifles. Their boats were constructed
of the trunks of four small trees, tightly bound together with thin
ropes made of the fibres of the cocoa-tree; a long piece of wood
served as an oar. The waves broke so completely over them that I
imagined every instant that both boats and men were irretrievably
lost.
The good people were almost in a state of nature, and seemed to
bestow all their care on their heads, which were covered with pieces
of cloth, turbans, cloth or straw caps, or very high and peaked
straw hats.
