# Volunteering in India/Chapter 3

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CHAPTER III.
The necessary arrangements for long marches having been rapidly completed, we turned our backs on the “holy town,” and started for Patna along a pleasant road that lay by the side of vast plains concealed with sprouting corn, and in places fringed with immense belts of trees and evergreen shrubs, which only disappeared when we entered an avenue of miles in extent leading into Patna.
To speak of silvan avenues as stretching miles in extent, would seem to imply that they had been measured with the proverbial “long bow”; but in passing, it may be mentioned that in many parts of India magnificent avenues stretch scores of miles without a break.
The town of Patna, though large, is in no wise very remarkable. It contains, however, an immense population of disloyal Mahomedans, and is one of the great centres of disaffection and intrigue in India. Situated on the right bank of the Ganges, it presents a rather prepossessing panoramic view of an Oriental riverside town; and viewed from the water it is a long, irregular line of countless buildings closely packed together in grotesque shapes of various sizes, while prominently ​visible in its midst are some picturesque mosques, and a huge bell-shaped building, with a winding outer staircase leading to the top.
We crossed the Ganges at Patna. The river was at its lowest level; still the passage, beginning with dawn glimmering upon our difficulties, continued the whole of the day, and did not terminate before the shadows of eventide compelled us to bivouac on its bank opposite the town. And here we endeavoured to make ourselves as comfortable for the night as circumstances would allow, in a wretched encampment teeming with mosquitoes and frogs, and reeking with malaria exhaled from putrid vegetation on the margin of the river.
But now no more sombre thoughts, for sleep cradled in the arms of fatigue had lulled dull care to rest; while all life, too, reposed in the quietude of a serenely lovely night, and nothing but the monotonous clink of the sentinels‘ scabbards, trailing along the ground as they paced to and fro, stirred the profound silence of the slumbering camp.
On the following morning as the sun rose, we rose too, and the forward movement began through a country in general feature similar to that we had recently traversed, but apparently without any signs of anarchy in it. In fact, there was nothing to indicate a hostile country ; and in proof of its tranquillity, over the vast expanse of the plains, as far as the scope of vision, on every side corn was sprouting in the greatest exuberance; and commissariat supplies were found in ​abundance at every stage. Without therefore encountering any obstacle on our line of march, we reached the little town of Pusah — worthy of notice only on account of the enormous stud of horses it contained.
Meanwhile the alarming rumours relating to the mutineers — of whom mention has already been made — rendered it necessary for us to halt at Pusah, until reliable intelligence could be received in place of the numerous and exaggerated reports that were in circulation within and around the neighbouring districts. Some rumours asserted that the revolted troops were on their way to loot the Government stud; others declared that they had broken away through the adjoining country; while a few maintained, and with truth, as the sequel will show, that they were in a “fix” for want of boats on the impetuous river that barred their way to the Upper Provinces.
Our “forced halts” at Pusah afforded an opportunity for re-organising the transport train, which was found defective for forced marches. And instead of that “awful machine,” the country cart, yoked to crawling bullocks that ordinarily averaged a “motion” of two or three miles an hour, and accomplished a distance of three or four leagues a day, and that only under the influence of perpetual and tremendous shouting, barbarous castigation, and tails twisted into corkscrews until the joints cracked, elephants and those hardy animals the pack-ponies were substituted for the conveyance of the baggage.
​While we remained encamped at Pusah, among other means adopted to beguile the weary hours, races and steeplechases were “got up”; and as the place had an excellent course, and the weather was delightful and exhilarating, the pastime helped to dispel grumblings, and in some instances imaginary grievances which inaction had commenced to sow.
So passed a few days, each of which brought with it both its amusements and its anxieties. Before a week had terminated, however, it was evident by the hurry-skurry prevailing in the striking of tents and packing of baggage that an immediate headlong rush to the Nipal frontier was in store for us. So we started at once, and jogged along throughout the night, and by daylight, finding the baggage animals keeping well up, we marched on for a few hours longer, and then halted for the day amidst a fertile country verdant with waving crops of several kinds.
I shall pass rapidly over the stages travelled during the ensuing few days, as their monotony was only dispelled on our entering the district of Purneah. Here the features of the country changed alternately from rich cultivated fields, to immense grass plains; and from those again to enormous crops of ripening scarlet chillies, which gave the whole landscape a bloodshot appearance of a singular and — as times were — very appropriate effect.
We also passed incalculable acres of poppy fields, and their variegated bloom of red, white, and purple in the golden sunlight adorned a sublimely pretty ​floral scene of many miles stretching along our route. And as we gazed on these fascinating fields, which in their beauty looked as if brilliantly bespangled with swarming butterflies, it was strange to realise the curious fact that in so beautiful a bloom lurked also a deadly poison. For is it not a notable fact in the opium trade that the poppy blossom not only fascinates India with its product, but demoralises, if not kills, China with its venom? while the Government piles up mountains of gold rising from the plains of “Opiumana” — to coin a name in a flowery and figurative sense — as memorial monuments typical of gratitude to both! Hence no apology is needed for my turning aside from our line of march to bestow this apparently eccentric, and perhaps frivolous panegyric on those whom it may concern. But let us hope that the day may come, when the opium revenue will cease to fill the coffers of a Christian Government, at the expense and demoralisation of a heathen empire, like that of China.
When we had advanced thus far towards the confines of Nipal, the indomitable ponies began gradually to yield to the toil they had hitherto, sustained stoutly, and in considerable numbers, as they staggered along under their loads, dropped by the wayside and perished; the baggage would in consequence have to be divided among that carried by yet vigorous animals, and they being thus overweighted would straggle up hours after we had bivouacked; and then the time usually occupied in serving out and cooking ​the rations was the most disagreeable part of the day’s work; for m addition to being already well tired and desiring repose, exhausted and famished men had to superintend the preparation of unsavoury meals, and postpone rest found in sleep of which they stood sorely in need.
In this unsatisfactory way we continued to push on from one day to another, until at length the beasts of burden having been fairly beaten down, we were compelled to part with our baggage, and “stow away” upon our horses, and about our own persons some indispensable things for our use on the road. And that night, after receiving many uneasy salutations — in the way of salams — from our servants and camp followers, whose countenances showed apprehension at being forsaken , without even a guard, to follow us as best they could, we struck into a well-trodden path running over low, sterile lands in a south-easterly direction.