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Updated: June 3, 2025
I wondered how we were all to get on board one ship, but found as we got on to the launch that most of the people remained behind; they were only see-ers off. Mr. Townley had by some means managed to get permission for himself, his wife, and Boggley to go down the river with us in the launch to where the Socotra lay; which was a great comfort to us all.
Boggley, the lazy one, wouldn't hear of going, and when I awoke in the grey dawning stiff with cold, in spite of a fire and heaps of blankets and rugs, I felt thankful that I hadn't a strenuous brother. If it had been John, I dare not think where he would have made me accompany him to in his efforts to get as near as possible to his beloved mountains.
When men come to see us I cry, "Qui hai?" and, when the servant appears, order "Peg lao cheroot lao," and feel intensely Anglo-Indian and rather fast. One trait the language has which appeals greatly to me is that one can spell it almost any way one likes, but that is enough about Hindustani for one letter. 23rd. I have come in from a ride with Boggley.
I felt myself becoming exactly like a native, sitting with my hands folded, looking straight before me. If I hadn't been so anxious I shouldn't have minded the waiting at all. Now and again I refreshed myself with a peep at the babu, just to assure myself that I wasn't the only person left alive in the world. About five o'clock Boggley and his bicycle strolled into the station.
The weather is beginning to stoke-up, as Boggley calls it, and during the day the tent is insufferable. I can sit outside it in the early morning, but as the sun gets up Autolycus summons the chuprassis, and they carry my table and writing-materials to the verandah of the Guest House, which has a cool, not to say clammy and tomb-like, atmosphere. My chief trials are the insects.
But, by the Colonel's interest, the chaplaincy of Boggley Wollah was procured for the Rev. C. Honeyman, who now forms the delight of that flourishing station. All this while we have said little about Clive, who in truth was somehow in the background in this flourishing Newcome group.
I could hardly wait till I was outside to tell Boggley what I thought of Mrs. Martin and her house. "The hopeless, untidy creature!" I raved. "She doesn't deserve to have such a little cheery husband or children." The only thing I don't like about Boggley is that he never will help me to abuse people. "Poor woman," he said; "she's pretty bad." Then he told me her story as he had heard it.
When one is feeling fairly peaceful and secure, something ghastly, like the smell of burning Hindoo, recalls to one the uncertainty of all things. We rose to go home, feeling depressed, the smell pursuing us. I have two pieces of news for this letter. First, Boggley can take a few days' holiday at Christmas, so he means to take me to Darjeeling to see if we can catch a glimpse of the snows.
Boggley was up and away long before I was awake, and won't be back till evening. We left Rika on Monday afternoon, very sad indeed. Mrs. Royle, as is her way, heaped us with benefits, and, mindful of our starvation on the way to Rika, had a luncheon-basket packed with cold fowl, home-made bread, tomatoes, and a big cake.
I had a dreadful cold, and was sniffy and inclined to be cross; so when Boggley suggested we should dine in the waiting-room while Autolycus and the chuprassis went on with the luggage to acquaint the dak-bungalow people of our arrival, I upbraided him for not making proper arrangements, and reviled the meagre repast, and was altogether very unpleasant.
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