‘He is trained to catch any movement. If he sees something he will not make any sound, but point. Then he’ll try to bring the boat in more closely and switch off the engine, so that we can watch without disturbing them.’
They had, as it seemed, an immense world to themselves. It was difficult to grasp the scale of these hills and these remarkably English-looking trees, until Romesh stiffened and pointed, and found them their first elephants. In a sheltered bay on their left hand, a whole ponderous herd winding its way down through the trees, across the open belt of spongy grass, and into the silvery shallows. Beside the boles of those trees the two big tuskers shrank to the dimensions of toy animals. There were seven or eight cows, and four calves, varying from a half-grown youngster to a small, skittish baby. They played and splashed and squealed like puppies in the shallows, sending up fountains of spray, while the elders wallowed blissfully, and heaved themselves ashore to graze afterwards streaming water like granite cliffs deluged by a flowing tide. Romesh, flashing white teeth in a delighted, proprietorial grin, shut off the engine and let the boat slide slowly inshore between the drowned trees, and they watched for a long time, until the herd moved off at leisure into the forest.
After that it was elephants all the way; they saw them pacing in line, far up on a half-cleared hillside, moving methodically down towards the lake. They saw them bathing in half a dozen sheltered coves, and paused each time to draw inshore and take pictures. Several times they saw deer, and once, where the shores opened out in grassland and they emerged into the widest part of the lake, a large sambur grazing, bulky as a bison. The sun rose higher, and the clear heat of the day came on, but the fresh currents of air across the water were cool and fragrant. Silver-blue before them, under a deepening blue sky only delicately dusted with cloud, the lake expanded broad and calm, and here the light was dazzling. They could see the long barrage of the Periyar dam far in the distance. After the enclosed, steep-shored bays the elephants preferred, this was a minor sea.
‘It’s time to turn back,’ Lakshman said reluctantly, ‘If we are to get the boat back on time.’
‘What a pity! ’ Patti sighed. ‘This is glorious. How long ago was the dam built, Lakshman?’
‘Last century, it’s an old one. I think about 1890. It turns the Periyar river through a long tunnel, and makes it flow east down into the Madurai plains. It used to go west to the Malabar coast.’
‘And the wild life sanctuary, is that old, too?’
‘Quite old, it was made while this was still Travancore State territory. It’s been established so long that it has many, many herds of elephants.’
‘You like to keep boat?’ Romesh suggested hopefully. ‘Come again in afternoon? Sometimes is better in afternoon. Maybe even see tiger.’ He had brought the boat about, and they were heading gently back for the narrows.
‘Oh, could we?’ She looked hopefully at Larry. ‘Is it very expensive? Couldn’t you be our guests this time? If you don’t have to rush away?’
They looked at one another, and apart from the question of who paid, which could be left in abeyance for the time being, there was no need for much persuasion. The beauty of the place and the fascination of the animals made departure seem a deprivation; at least they could have one more trip, for the late afternoon watering.
‘All right, why not? If the boat isn’t already booked for the rest of the day? After all, it is Sunday, there are sure to be a few trippers.’
‘I take you,’ promised Romesh heartily. ‘I fix it for boat.’
‘Good for you!’ Patti was delighted. ‘Romesh, you’re a treasure. What’s the rest of your name, may we know?’
He flashed his magnificent teeth at her in a pleased grin. ‘It is Romesh Iyar, memsahib.’
‘A good Keralese name.’
‘Yes, memsahib, from Quilon.’
They were between the steep banks again now. Once or twice they caught sight of buildings close to the water, one, as Romesh told them, formerly a palace. They were encountering, too, the boats which had set off later than theirs, and had just reached this stage in the pilgrimage. The big launch, packed with the Sunday whites of husbands and the fluttering saris of wives and flower-tinted dresses of children, ploughed steadily ahead into open water, passing them closely.
‘I see the Bessancourts made it,’ Larry said.
There they sat among the butterfly passengers, he in his sober grey suit and Panama hat, she in her black shalwar and grey and white kameez, with a white muslin scarf over her pile of black hair. They looked about them at the strange and beautiful world of the Periyar Lake with wide, attentive, appraising eyes; and when they saw their young acquaintances in the small launch they did not wave, but inclined their heads with the tightest of French smiles, as on an after-church promenade in Combeaufontaine or Oulchy-le-Chateau.
They were drawing near to the final inlet that would bring them back within sight of the hotel, when they met the smart white launch, as small as their own, but newer. Mr and Mrs Mani sat installed among its cushions in jubilant state, beaming like gratified children; and Mrs Mani, though somewhat taken aback at recognising her acquaintances in a private boat when she had certainly taken it for granted they were passengers among the rest in the communal launch, nevertheless fluttered a silk handkerchief at them graciously, and achieved a very accomplished smile for their benefit. Sushil Dastur sat in the stern of the boat, very neatly and nervously, his knees drawn up, hugging the inevitable briefcase that went with him everywhere. And opposite the Manis, lounging along the whole of one seat with a cushion at his back, sat a tall, bulky man in a tussore suit and a snow-white shirt, grey hair curled in tufts over his ears, and the sunlight glinting blindly from the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses. They saw him briefly in passing as a sculptured mask in bronze, without eyes, with a heavy mouth and jaw and a thick, pale throat.
Romesh exchanged the smallest flick of a hand with the other boatman, and grinned to himself. When he laughed he looked even younger, and childishly mischievous.
‘So that’s the wealthy and distinguished business contact,’ Dominic remarked, when the other boat was out of earshot. Romesh looked up brightly from the wheel. ‘You know him, sahib?’
‘Never saw him before. Never heard of him until last night. His guests told us they would be sharing his boat today, that’s all. Do you know him?’ He added with interest: ‘He has a house somewhere here on the lake, hasn’t he?’
‘Quite close, sahib, over there, not far from the road.’ He was shaking gently with suppressed mirth. ‘I am laughing because Ajit Ghose, that boat-boy, he is new here one month only, he does not know! I was on list to take that boat today, and this Ajit, he thinks to himself, this client is very rich man! So he gets list changed, to have that boat for himself. I saw what he want, but I let him do it. Me, I know this Mr Mahendralal Bakhle. He is rich, but he is not generous. It will not be so fat a tip as Ajit thinks.’
‘What did you say the man’s name was?’ Patti asked sharply, turning to stare after the diminishing boat with abruptly quickened interest.
‘Mahendralal Bakhle. You know that name, memsahib?’
‘Not exactly – it just sounds familiar, somehow. I think I’ve read it somewhere,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t there something about him in the papers – about trouble on his farms, and some labourers who were killed? I’m nearly sure that was the name.’
‘It is possible. He is a big landlord, own much land down in plains, near Sattur.’