British -- India -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Kolkata (India) -- History -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
But in general, as I have said, there’s nothing to do but talk, and I
can’t pretend that the style of the conversation is altogether as
ceremonious as the venerable Mrs Eustacia would desire. For instead of
the ladies all sitting in a circle, with the gentlemen standing behind
their chairs, and each endeavouring to contribute some piece of wit or
information for the advantage of all, the passengers seem naturally to
divide themselves into small groups, often, I must confess, containing
as few as two persons. At least, this is my experience. Nay, I’ll go
so far as to say (for I see my Amelia’s eyes asking the question),
that I am not much in the habit of changing my companion on these
occasions. ’Tis very seldom that my cavalier is not Mr Fraser, and
this not only because I find his discourse always modest and
agreeable, but because I am in continual alarm lest he should involve
himself in some quarrel when he is not with me. You may have observed
that this gentleman is of a somewhat fiery temper, and since the
officers of the ship continue to treat him in the same offensive
manner as I have already described to you, I am kept in a perpetual
fear. Not that he is altogether without self-command, as I remarked
one day when I looked to him to take the part of one of the crew who
was knocked down and kicked by the second mate. These unfortunate
seamen, who are kidnapped or inveigled by the Hon. Co. on board of
their ships, and there forced to serve without hope of release, are
handled with the most shocking barbarity by those in authority, and
sometimes injured in a horrible manner. Knowing that Mr Fraser, as he
had told me, had learned from his former commander, Mr Watson, to
behave with justice and humanity to those serving under him,[2.04] I
was not surprised to see him step forward with his hand raised, as
though about to lay the wretch on the deck by the side of his victim.
But dropping his hand and returning to my side, he said, in answer to
my mute expostulation, “Pray, madam, pardon my disobliging you, but I
have learnt by this time that my interference on behalf of these poor
wretches only serves to ensure them a worse treatment, if not the
being placed in irons forthwith.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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