A Voyage to India, 1888

In October, 1888, Miss Kate Pettitt sailed from Liverpool to Bombay in the steamship Eden Hall.She was going to India as a governess with an English family from Manchester. The voyage took five weeks, and to the girl who had never been farther from home than London, India must have seemed as strange and far away as the moon.

But Kate Pettitt was a true Victorian gentlewoman: frail as a piece of Dresden on the outside; tough as steel within. Nothing surprised her. Nothing alarmed her. She moved through life as calm and secure as the good Queen herself.

And of course she kept a diary.

I came across that diary the other day, carefully written up in the copper plate handwriting that is now almost a lost art.As a snapshot of gracious travelling 70 years ago, I found it fascinating.

The Eden Hall was a small ship. A crew of 63 and room aboard for 10 passengers, including little Charley, little Effie, and the baby. In the precise, genteel English of this Victorian governess, they come marvellously alive.

The first few days were uneventful. Almost everyone was more than a little seasick. Or, as Miss Pettitt puts it delicately, “Confined to their cabins with mal-de-mer.” But by the time they were out of the Bay, Kate Pettitt was sitting up and taking notice again and, judging from the menu, eating like a horse. This is what her diary says:

“Now that I have entirely got over all squeamish sensations, my appetite increases daily and I am already beginning to feel benefited by the voyage.

We have all sorts of dainties in the matter of eatables. For instance, dinner this evening consisted of soup, lobster, roast duck, cheese cakes and luscious grapes for dessert.

I dined with the chief officer, Mr Sargeant. I like him best of all the officers. He is always so pleased to give me any information or answer any questions.

Today, Friday, at noon we were opposite the coast of Portugal, and a little later passed Cape Trafalgar, where away to our left the coast of Spain shone out brightly in the sunshine with the African coast to starboard.

I hope in time my powers of description will improve. At present the scenes through which we are passing and my mode of travelling is all so new and strange that I can do nothing but gaze with wonder and delight.

I am delighted to think I have really had a glimpse of Africa. Such immense mountains with the shore looking most exquisite. The hills are a purple heliotrope shade and the waters of the Bay as blue as the sky above, or the chief officer’s eyes. (This simile sounds somewhat sentimental but it is only a literal comparison. The ladies on board rave about Mr Sargeant’s eyes.)”

This gallant Mr Sargeant figures prominently in the diary. Romance is always in the air. But nothing comes of it. After all, it was 1888 — and a girl couldn’t be too careful.By now, too, she was taking stock of her fellow passengers. Scribbling away primly under the awning on the promenade deck, she gets them down mercilessly:

“I must try and give you some idea of my fellow passengers.

First there is the “swell” passenger — Mr Carr. I mention him first because undoubtedly he holds that position in his own estimation. He is commissioned in the 3rd Bengal Cavalry, and has the style of a fully-fledged colonel at least.

He appears in all the glory of shoes freshly pipe-clayed, spotless linen, gloves and a well-waxed moustachio.

Next comes Mrs Nicholette and her two daughters, both very advanced in the ways of the world in their ideas and styles.

I like the elder sister best (she is 18) because she is bright and good-tempered, but the younger, though pretty, has an habitual petulant expression and is a regular baby in some things.

She has actually brought several dolls out with her.

I shall never forget the look of horror and astonishment on Mr Carr’s face when he saw her playing with the three dolls. An excuse, I think, for her to sit and display her very pretty white hands.

Mrs Nicholette is very fussy, pompous and even patronising in her ways. She grumbles systematically, liking and getting plenty of attention.

The remaining two passengers are a young Mr Marriott and his sister of 15, who has been suffering from mal-de-mer so we have not seen much of her.

They have both been placed in Mrs Nicholette’s charge for the voyage, and though young Marriott can be clever and amusing, I do think she ought to check, instead of giving rank encouragement, when he delights in relating some of his decidedly irreverent and profane stories.

Even the captain, who is a charming man, seems to have an inexhaustible supply of racy anecdotes upon every conceivable subject. As he always laughs and enjoys his jokes very thoroughly himself, both amusement and laughter is ensured.

Mrs Nicholette does not improve with acquaintance. I cannot manage to like her. She is coarse and ill-bred and such a woman for boasting. Whenever we are left alone she begins a list of all the wonderful contents of their baggage, of which her accounts, from time to time, vary considerably.

Her two daughters are so dreadfully forward and silly. She does not check them but gives them every encouragement, ogling the captain herself to such an extent that one desires the presence of her husband aboard.

As for little Miss Marriott, she is without exception the most impertinent and forward minx imaginable. I have never heard she and the Misses Nicholette make one sensible remark. Rather do they concentrate in monopolising the attention of the gentlemen. Mr Sargeant sought me out today and confided that they are the most fatiguing people he had ever met.

Strange to say, Mr Carr does improve upon further acquaintance and can be very nice. He gives great offence to the three girls by ignoring them as much as possible and devoting his attention to our party.

Although I say it myself, I think I am rather a favourite among the officers, and it is a very gratifying sensation.

Mr McFarlane, the chief engineer and a very nice Scotsman, has already shown me over the engine room, and Mr Woods asked me if I would like to go up on the bridge. It was delightful high up there on the bridge, and he gave me a very interesting lesson on astronomy. I may mention here that Mr Woods is middle-aged and the father of a family.”

Here is another diary entry, dated November 7, anchored off Suez. Such a to-do aboard the Eden Hall as the passengers prepare to go ashore and stretch their legs.

“Port Said, and at last we are going ashore. The children were very excited as I dressed them.

I was very agreeably surprised at Port Said. The buildings looked picturesque and imposing with their flat roofs and white or pink walls with bright green Venetian outside shutters. They showed in bright contrast to the dirty, smelly, sand-covered streets and their greasier-looking natives.

Although it was Sunday, all the shops and bazaars were open. The heat was so strong we went into a shop to inquire for solar topees. It was great fun to bargain with the shopkeepers, whose invariable motto is to swindle as much as possible.

We had a big, tall man — a Turk — as guide. These men are called dragomen and come aboard directly the ship enters harbour. They solicit patronage and get a percentage from the shopkeepers.

After visiting the fruit market and then the beautiful gardens, which were full of natives and children attended by their Ayahs, we found a nice confectioner’s and bought some sweets. It was a blow to have to pay 2s. 6d. a pound instead of the 8d. or 10d. at home.”

And now we come to an incident which could have given the whole journey an unhappy ending. But, with Mr Sargeant close at hand to rescue a fair maiden, and Kate never once forgetting she was a lady, danger was averted at the eleventh hour.

“Just as we were leaving Port Said a rather disturbing accident happened. We were standing by the ship’s railings watching the little supply boats depart. The engines began to get up steam and the vessel started to turn slowly around.

Before I knew what was happening my dress was tightly wedged among the chains connected with the steering apparatus.

I found to my horror and dismay that the more I struggled the more I became entangled, and in no time I could not move an inch. I started frantically to unhook, my dress at the waist, at the same time calling out pretty loudly for help.

Mr Sargeant rushed to my aid, followed closely by Mrs Evans, and between them they managed to extricate me. What an awful fright and what an embarrassment — and alas — my poor dress. It is completely ruined.”

They eventually left Port Said for Ismailia, with, of course, the faithful Mr Sargeant once more in close attendance. Kate’s diary resumes the story of her voyage to India.

“Mr Sargeant promised to call me early as I was anxious to see Ismailia.

Sleep for me was out of the question for the heat was most oppressive. Several times in the night I put my head out of the porthole for a breath of fresh air, but was rewarded by such obnoxious smells that I was glad to withdraw it once again.

I saw numerous black forms of various shapes and sizes moving along the opposite bank and with large splashes flop into the water.

Mr Sargeant told me afterwards that the canal is simply swarming with sharks and crocodiles. I realised with a shudder that my head had been unpleasantly near the water, and resolved to exercise a little more caution in future.

At five o’clock I was up and dressed waiting on the poop with the moon and stars shining gloriously ahead, waiting for my first glimpse of Ismailia.”

And so the journey went on. By now they are in the Red Sea and feeling the heat. No air-conditioning in 1888.

“The heat is absolutely unbearable, though none are quite so badly off as myself, being immediately over the coal bunkers.

I somehow manage to live without sleep. The heat is bad enough, but the insects are my greatest horror.

Fancy lying in bed, even much less sleeping, with dozens of pale brown or orange-coloured cockroaches running all over the walls, my pillow and, if I keep still, my person also.

I nearly go frantic at times and try to live outside as much as possible.

Mrs Nicholette and the three girls have selfishly taken possession of all four hammocks and made the poop their sleeping quarters, much to the inconvenience of other passengers.

The steward has kindly suggested that my small charge, Charley, should sleep in his cabin as he has a spare berth, and we have gladly accepted the offer.”

In the Red Sea, too, they ran into a storm. Kate once more proved she was mistress of any situation and that Britannia Rules the Waves.

“The wind is altogether too terrific and the waves a magnificent sight as they come roaring and flashing alongside, while the forecastle is in a constant state of deluge. In the face of this shocking gale, the engines snort and groan as the poor old ship tries to make headway.

Undressing was a matter of great difficulty, but I finally tumbled into bed and was soon fast asleep, to be awakened at 2.30 in a novel and decidedly unpleasant manner.

The porthole could not have been fastened securely as all at once a huge wave came rushing in, literally deluging my bed and myself.

It was such a startling awakening that, for a moment, I thought the end had come. The next instant, with great opposition from the wind, I was engaged in screwing up the wretched window with all the energy I possessed.

After making sure that Effie was snug and dry, I managed to dress somehow, hopping about the streaming floor in complete darkness.”

But all things have to come to an end; even a slow boat ride to India 70 years ago.And so we come to the last night and the farewell party. Here was Mr Sargeant’s last chance, but there’s no mention of it in the diary.

“Had a lovely farewell party last night in which everyone contributed an item. It proved most enjoyable and it is surprising the amount of talent that could be found.

The Captain asked me to play “Auld Lang Syne” on the harmonium at the end, and everyone linked arms while singing.

Then dancing was proposed and the deck was cleared as if by magic. Mr Mac, the chief engineer, brought out his violin and festivities were high when all at once Mrs Nicholette, who was dancing a polka with the Captain, stumbled over an iron ring, dragging her partner down with her.

She was supposed to have fainted, but everyone was pretty sceptical on that point: but, of course, it brought all the fun to an end.

I don’t think Mrs Nicholette was anything other than shaken by her fall, but she kept it up tremendously and required everyone’s attention including the Captain’s, who stood over her solicitously with a bottle of smelling salts in one hand, gravely feeling her pulse with the other.

She rose next morning professing a severe headache, but as soon as Mrs Marrriott proposed a fancy dress ball in the evening (an idea we all eagerly took up) Mrs N’s ailments were quickly forgotten, and for the rest of the day everyone was kept busy sewing and contriving costumes.

As I knew I could soon rig up a gypsy outfit for myself, and as no one had given a thought to the gentlemen, I went to the Steward and offered my services. In the next few minutes I was surrounded by the Captain, Messrs Carr and Sargeant, etc…

We had dinner earlier than usual and I popped the children into bed before dressing for the fray.

I was kept busy until the last moment for, of course, the men required my assistance in arranging cloaks, tying sashes, and fastening brooches.

I must say they did me credit. Mr Sargeant made an exceedingly handsome Dragoman.

There were some very original costumes, and after the promenade we had delicious refreshments including sparkling claret cup, all provided at the Captain’s expense.”

Well, it must have been quite a party, or the last day aboard, Tuesday, November 22, we find her writing.

“Was not so well yesterday. Felt out of sorts with an awful headache and had to go back to bed.

Today though I feel much better, apart from feeling downhearted at the near prospect of saying goodbye to this dear ship and to so many people who have shown me such gratifying kindness.

I shall miss them all in this strange new land. I do not know a living soul and it seems so funny, after living on a ship for five weeks, to think of living on shore again.

The fact is, I am not ready to leave this ‘life on the ocean wave,’ but, of course, regrets are useless as tomorrow all passengers will have said a long farewell to the Eden Hall.

Poor Mr Evans had an awful shock this morning. A telegram was delivered ordering him to report at once to Quetta, instead of his own province of Karachi. He was quite put out, there being no further details enclosed. He says there is nothing he can do but submit and obey orders.

For my part it matters little where we go. Everything is so novel and exciting, and although I know little about Quetta, apart from it being a military station, I dare say I shall manage to make life endurable, even there.

Mr and Mrs Evans have kindly given me the option of returning home as, of course, the agreement was that I accompany them to N.W. India, but I laughed at the idea.

Having once resolved to leave dear old England and cast in my lot with Mr and Mrs Evans, I shall stick to them through good and ill. I don’t mind what I do for them and the children as long as we all get on happily together.

At 7 o’clock I went to dress the children, very thankful to discard the clothes worn on the journey. Charley looked a perfect love in his Scots suit and Effie perfectly sweet in a tussore silk frock smocked with pale blue, and wearing a large sun bonnet.

And now to say a final farewell to the good friends I have made on the Eden Hall.”

And so the shipboard diary of Kate Pettitt, gentlewoman, comes to an end. For her life’s end was not far either. Shortly after landing she contracted scarlet fever and died, in her early thirties. There’s a charm and fragrance about it which lingers on down the years; and I’m not surprised that it has been carefully preserved by the young nieces, now grown old themselves, for whom it was originally written.