A Bottle in the Smoke Part 17

Veeraswamy had therefore been duly dispatched to Triplicane, the Mussulman quarter, where he said he knew Yacoob dwelt. On the way, however, he happened to encounter Ismail, another hawker, accompanied by a couple of coolies carrying his bales, which betokened him rather a superior gentleman of the trade. Here was an opportunity which Veeraswamy could not resist. Announcing to the Mussulman that he had been commissioned by Rayner Dorai to fetch a hawker, he intimated to Ismail that in return for a little _backsheesh_ he might be the fortunate man.

The hawker was a muscular-looking, sleek, well-fed man of pale olive complexion and cheeks, which showed ruddy under the brown skin. From bushy over-hanging eyebrows peered out a pair of bold, cunning eyes, and his square chin was adorned by a dense black beard which he was wagging now in gratified approval as he selected a four-anna piece from his money-bag and held it out to the Hindu.

"Son of a pig, wouldst thou insult me with only that?" flashed Veeraswamy. "I go on to Triplicane to look for another."

"Halt, pariah dog, dost thou know that not one pie need touch thy greedy palm? I go to the Rayner compound, I display my treasures, mem-sahib buys," returned Ismail, spreading out his hands dramatically.

"For one rupee only will I sell my honour," replied Veeraswamy, raising his first finger.

"Wallah, one rupee? 'Twill need too much buying by the mem-sahib to recoup that! Here then, I give eight annas, greedy one!"

"Not one pie less than one rupee," said the butler, setting his head on one side, and planting himself on the path that led to Clive's Road.

"Take then, thou pariah dog, and a bright new coin too," said Ismail, opening his palm to part with the rupee which he had ready, knowing from the first that it would be exacted as the butler's commission.

"You will find the mem-sahib in the verandah, also mem-sahib Fellowes.

They sit with pot full of gold awaiting Ismail's coming," announced Veeraswamy with a grin, as he prepared to push on his way to Triplicane.

"Where, son of a pig, where off to now? Dost thou not return with me to the mem-sahibs?" cried Ismail, with a scowl as he watched him.

"I come, I follow quickly! I go only to get some ghee for my curry from the village near by."

Shaking his head, Ismail already debited his rupee as a bad debt, and went on his way along the red laterite road followed by the patient coolies, who ploughed their way through the red dust like beasts of burden under their heavy load, with no covering for their brown skin save their loin cloths and big turbans.

Ismail began to doubt whether Veeraswamy's commission was not altogether bogus, but his sleek countenance broke into a huge smile when he reached the verandah, and pushing aside a corner of one of the green c.h.i.n.ks he caught sight of the two English ladies, who sat chatting together in the most promising manner.

"Oh, here he comes already! Your boy has been uncommonly smart surely,"

exclaimed Mrs. Fellowes, looking up from the silk sock she was knitting, one of her joys being to keep the colonel in beautiful socks of her own manufacture.

Ismail was salaaming profoundly, but his smile changed to a scowl as he overheard Hester say:

"Ah, but this is not the dear little Yacoob! My boy surely can't have understood the one I wanted."

Ismail hoped devoutly that Veeraswamy would continue to misunderstand.

"I werry fine stock, mem-sahib will see," he said eagerly, pushing into the verandah without waiting for an invitation. Beckoning to his coolies, they trudged up and quickly deposited their burdens on the rattan matting of the verandah, and with low salaams hurried down the wide steps again to dispose themselves under the nearest tree and regale themselves with betel-nut, which never failed to find a lodgment in some fold of their linen cloth.

Ismail, being a man of great astuteness as well as of large experience, at once perceived that the butler's report was correct, and that the mem-sahib was on this occasion an intending customer, and an eager one too. He noted also how her pretty eyes, soft grey blue like a monsoon sky, lighted up when she caught sight of his embroideries which he began deftly to display. How fortunate was his good knowledge of "Englishe,"

he thought, which enabled him to understand even her asides to the older lady, whom he also hoped to captivate as a customer. The young mem-sahib evidently wanted not one thing but many things.

"Yes, I have one beautee smoke-cap, just suiting one padre sahib!" He produced thereupon the article and sold it for the price he asked. Then his richly embroidered table covers sewed on black cloth were examined, but the hawker's face grew dark as he overheard Mrs. Fellowes remarking:

"We must examine carefully the stuff they are sewn on. They often put the most exquisite work on the joined up tail of a dress coat, or even a bit out of a pair of trousers."

Mrs. Fellowes' first finger thereupon went right through a worn-out patch in a gorgeous table cover.

"Oh, that would never do for mother," said Hester, at once rejecting the handsome embroidery. "She would never forgive the immorality of it, for one thing!"

"Well, my dear, what you must do in future is to order the cloth from home and give it to a faithful man to embroider."

"Ah, here comes my friend, Yacoob!" exclaimed Hester, as there appeared a little, refined-looking old man with delicate features, large well-set eyes, and a sweet sensitive face.

"Oh, yes, I've heard of Yacoob," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I believe he is the most beautiful embroiderer in Madras, and the most honest," she whispered, but not so low that it did not catch the quick ear of Ismail, who looked furious as Yacoob stood smilingly salaaming to the ladies.

Yacoob was far from being a rich man like Ismail, and had carried his own goods unaided, save by a slender boy, his grandson. Veeraswamy had, of course, hurried to Triplicane to summon the good little hawker, whom he found sitting cross-legged in his pandal, sewing exquisite embroidery on the finest of white muslin, surrounded by several generations of his family, the youngest members being dusky babies crawling about the carpet on which he sat; yet no spot or stain ever reached Yacoob's needlework.

On hearing of the mem-sahib's summons he bundled his sewing into a green silk kerchief which looked none of the cleanest, but which must have been in some occult way warranted not to contaminate Yacoob's precious art.

He looked sad and pathetic as he caught sight of Ismail's jealous frown.

It was evident his sensitive nature shrank from the rough rivalry of his cla.s.s. With feeble fingers he began to untie his parcel of goods when Hester said:

"Come, Yacoob, my heart is set on having one of your beautiful beetle-wing dresses. I want it for my cousin," she added, turning to Mrs. Fellowes, "I think she would like one done on black best."

"Salaams, mem-sahib, but I only have the best shining beetle-wings,"

said Ismail, making a cringing progress towards Hester as he held up yards of net embroidered with iridescent beetle-wings.

"Now, let's examine this!" said Mrs. Fellowes. "Since you want a dress, the net must, at least, be new! This is lovely work, Ismail, but what about the net! It isn't black, it's the colour of dusty spider's web!

Let me see one of yours, Yacoob."

The little man brought the required length with a gracious salaam and an a.s.sured smile.

"Now, this will do, the net is jet black and strong!"

"Very well, I'll have this, Yacoob," said Hester. "How much does it cost?"

A very moderate price was named, but at once Ismail came forward saying harshly: "Too much charging, mem-sahib. I giving for seven rupees less.

A very best one too--not one I shewing first."

He turned to rummage in his bales, but Hester was not to be moved.

Little Yacoob's beetle-wing dress was laid aside to be admired for many a day across the sea.

Fortunately for Ismail he was able to display some wares which Yacoob's slender capital did not admit of, so that he was not without profit in the morning's dealings; but being of a surly, jealous disposition he owed a fresh grudge against Yacoob that he should have been preferred, and a still more bitter grudge against the butler for his share in the transaction.

At length all the purchases were completed. Yacoob was departing with a lightened bale of goods and a full purse, his old face wearing an air of gracious courtesy, when a corner of the rattan blinds was lightly pushed aside and a girl's face appeared.

"Why, that is the girl I was telling you about, Mrs. Fellowes!"

exclaimed Hester. "How good you happen to be here! Perhaps she has thought better of it and come to enrol."

Hester rose from her chair, and hurried across the verandah. The blind had been dropped, but when she raised it, there stood the girl, spell-bound, it seemed, staring intently with parched lips and dilating eyes on the young wife who looked at her with a friendly smile.

"How do you do! I recollect you quite well. You looked in at our meeting one afternoon. I'm glad you've come this morning, you'll see Mrs.

Fellowes herself. Do come in!"

The girl hesitated, then curiosity or some other feeling seemed to prevail, and she drew herself up with a repressed air and silently followed the mistress of the house.

"This is Leila Baltus I told you of," said Hester, standing in front of Mrs. Fellowes' chair.

Something seemed to irritate the girl, who said in a bellicose tone: "Ho, so you've got hold of my name, have you? Well, I'm glad and I'm sorry," she muttered, scanning Hester eagerly, while Mrs. Fellowes eyes rested on her with a meditative glance.

"Oh, you needn't be eyeing me up and down like that," retorted the girl, with an insolent toss of her head. "You'll not catch me sitting on a bench like a chit of a schoolgirl after I've seen life. La, you could hardly expect Leila Baltus to do thatt at this time o' day," she added, with a laugh.