Chapter 22: Things to do in the monsoon season

“Much as I expected Lord Bentinck has decided not to court-martial the four miscreants,” said the Governor of Coimbatore. “Bringing their treacherous conduct into public knowledge would be detrimental to the reputation of not only the Honourable East India Company but also His Majesty’s Government. Disclosure could have led to the end of the East India Company, and any hope of further expansion of British influence in India.” He took a mighty gulp of brandy from his glass.

“What will happen to the perfidious four now?” I asked.

“They will be retired early due to ill health, and then shipped quietly back to Blighty, where no doubt Stokesley will obtain a seat on the boards of several banks, Lumpitt made an assize judge, Grotier given command of a militia regiment and Corbinn probably be made Inspector of Orphanages, or Homes for Fallen Women.”

“In fact rewarding them for their heinous behaviour?”

Guthrie Rilversed nodded his head. “Yes, but I will ensure the people who matter in London society are made aware of the facts, and the four will be ostracised.” He stood up from behind his desk and held out his hand, which I shook. “Only I will know how much our country owes you for foiling this plot. Officially it never happened, and there will be no record at the Foreign Office or at East India House of your service to the country, Sir Elijah.”

I gave a self-deprecating shrug of my shoulders. “I was in the right place at the right time when on a personal mission. Fortunately, my plans coincided with the benefit of my country.”

I bid him good day, left the office and joined Mimi in the anteroom.

We had been in Coimbatore for only two days, but were missing the peace, tranquillity, and coolness of Shangri La. When visiting the Governor’s Mansion both of us wore European clothing, and sweated like pigs beneath the many layers.

We hurried back to the punkah-wallah-induced breezes of our bedroom at the Mysore Hotel.

“Now we are free to leave for home,” Mimi said, swiftly removing her clothing.

“Yes, and the sooner the better,” I said, stepping out of my trousers and pulling my shirt over my head.

“Well, perhaps not immediately,” Mimi said with a giggle, and grasped John Thomas who was ready for action. We fell to the carpeted floor, and like a well-oiled machines joined in the Flower in Bloom. Her shrieks of pleasure blotted out the hubbub and shouts of the people thronging the street outside. After a short respite, we recommenced with an energetic Janakurpara, followed by a slow and comfortable Piditaka.

“We will first return to Shangri La, and then retrace our journey to Cochin and take a ship to Madras,” I said, some considerable time later.

“Can we not travel overland to Madras from Coimbatore?”

“Roads here are not well surfaced like English roads, neither are there stage or mail coaches. We would have to hire horses and pack animals to carry our baggage, and might even need an escort.”

“Surely, after what you have done for the East India Company, the Governor could provide us with an escort, and horses for us and our baggage?”

Mimi had made a good point, and next morning I paid a call on the Governor. However, when I asked him about an escort and horses to travel to Madras he shook his head.

“The monsoon is due, Sir Elijah. Overland travel is practically impossible during the monsoon season. Rivers turn to torrents, and roads disappear under feet of water. You best wait out the monsoon and then take ship down the Bharathappuzha River to the Malabar Coast to take passage on one of the many coastal vessels heading for Bombay. An East Indiaman sails for England from that port in August.”

Shangri La operated on the Malayalam Calendar. I knew the current month was Edavam by Malayali reckoning and asked the governor to enlighten me as to what day and month it was according to the Gregorian calendar.

“It is Saturday, the first day of June in the year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and thirty-three,” he informed me.

Mimi was aghast when I told her we were unable to leave for England until August.

“What do we do in the meantime, Jacques?”

“We return to Shangri La and make ferocious, exciting, adventurous, and extremely lascivious love, night and day,” I replied.

Her broad grin gave her assent, and we left for Shangri La within the hour. The monsoon broke before we reached Shangri La, and we soon realised how impossible it would have been to travel overland to Madras. The rain fell in continuous sheets, warm but exceedingly wet rain. Ditches filled with rushing streams of rainwater, and pools flooded across the track.

Fortunately, Shangri La was situated several hundred feet above the lower valley floor and was spared any flooding. After three days the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

“Is that it?” I asked Krish.

He laughed. “That was just a foretaste, Jack. For the next four weeks we can expect rain most days but also spells of sunshine. The Edavappathy monsoon is driven by a southwest wind, and the bulk of the rain falls on the coastal area. Further inland the rain sometimes stops for hours at a time. We make up for any respite in mid-October, when the northeast monsoon rushes through the Palakkad Gap and drenches everything and everyone. Some years even Shangri La gets flooded, and we have to dig drainage channels.”

The following four weeks were as Krish had predicted. Although it rained every day the rain was not constant, and during the dry periods work could be carried out. Nathan, N’reeta, Mimi, and I scoured the hillsides for plants on The Royal Horticultural Society’s wanted list, although Nathan also kept his eyes peeled for vanilla planifolia. Vanilla is a species of orchid that grows as a vine on a host tree. Mimi discovered a vine-covered tree and called Nathan over to verify her suspicions. I became aware of the find when I saw Nathan capering about, hugging Mimi and lifting her off her feet.

“She’s found one, she’s found one, Lady Mimi has found a vanilla plant!” Nathan could hardly contain his joy, and gave Mimi a resounding kiss on her lips. He then realised what he had done and blushed a radish red. Then he saw me and paled in fright.

Mimi laughed. “I hope N’reeta will not be too jealous, Nathan. Have no fear of Colonel Greenaway; he can see your excitement at finally discovering a vanilla vine got in the way of your natural decorum.”

“What does this discovery mean for Shangri La, Nathan?” I asked, trying to ignore his arms wrapped around my wife’s waist. He realised what I was staring at, and pulled them away as if Mimi was a glowing coal.

I could see the relief on his face when he answered.

“Doctor and Missus Armityge will have no more problems in keeping Shangri La running. We will cultivate the plants and sell the vanilla pods to the East India Company. Vanilla is in great demand, and whatever price the Company pays Shangri La for the spice will be quadrupled when selling the product in England. The hospital can be enlarged and stocked with the latest equipment from Europe. I would imagine the Armityges would increase the numbers of girls they take for training. Money will never be a problem for expansion.”

Krish and Lillian were delighted with the discovery.

“Between you and me, Jack, I was concerned as to how long we could keep the training enterprise going. I have no money, other than from those rich patients I sometimes treat. Lillian’s account at the Coimbatore bank is practically exhausted, and I was thinking of asking you for a loan before you left for England.”

“Which you shall have, Krish, but as a gift not as a loan. Mimi and I have already lived here at your expense for over two months and will be here for at least another month. I have the sovereigns to recompense you.” He made to wave away my offer but I forestalled him. “It will take some time before you have enough vanilla pods to sell. It is Mimi’s and my pleasure to have you accept a donation from us as thanks for your generous hospitality, besides which you are our dearest friends.”

Krish took my hand and shook it. “I accept your gift with gratitude, Jack, and you are correct, it will be a year at least before we produce enough vanilla to sell to the East India Company. Your generous donation will ensure that training local girls in midwifery and general nursing will continue.”

I still had the best part of 200 sovereigns left from the archaeology expedition’s treasury. I would leave Krish with 100 and fund our return to England with the remainder.

At dinner that evening, as the rain pattered on the palm leaf-covered roof of the hut, Nathan outlined the work necessary for the cultivation of vanilla.

“First we must take cuttings from the vine Lady Mimi discovered and harvest seeds from any pods on the vine. Those seeds need to be planted next to poles, allowing the growing vine to climb head height up the pole so that the pods can be picked more easily. I suggest we use that level area to the rear of the hospital. It is sheltered and well-drained.” He laughed, “Well, it will be when the monsoon ends. The soil must be well prepared, with plenty of manure dug into the growing area, and the topsoil raked to a fine tilth.”

“When do the seedlings and cuttings need to be planted?” I asked.

“No earlier than the start of Karkidakam and no later than the end of that month, “ Nathan replied, and then saw I had no idea of the Malayalam calendar. “The month of Karkidakam is between the middle of July and middle of August of the Gregorian calendar, Colonel. The northeast monsoon reaches us at the beginning of the month of Thulam, which is between the middle of October and the middle of November, and the crop will be well established by then, but will still need to be well-drained and sheltered.”

During the rest of the monsoon we took cuttings, and picked pods from the vine. Seeds from the pods were carefully stored pending the end of the monsoon. Krish organised a meticulous search of the area surrounding where the vanilla vine was discovered, using all the girls in training besides Mimi, Nathan, N’reeta, and me. Several more vines were found in the immediate vicinity, and Nathan was like a dog with two tails. This time, he expressed his pleasure by kissing N’reeta, but with far more abandonment than when he kissed Mimi. N’reeta returned his embrace with unrestrained interest, and it was just as well a sudden flurry of rain dampened, if not completely cooled, their ardour.

At night Mimi and I continued with our Kama Sutra lovemaking, and added something extra by using tantric techniques Lillian had disclosed to Mimi. The techniques included taking more time to arouse a partner; slow breathing in unison with your partner, with tender touching and stroking of a partners body before penetration. Then it was not energetic thrusting, but slow and deep, even stopping, allowing the anticipation of release to raise the threshold of shared pleasure. The techniques are designed to bring lovers closer together; emotionally, physically, and spiritually. At times the pleasure we shared was exquisite, outstripping anything that we had achieved before we embarked on this voyage of sexual discovery.

We would cleave together, teetering for hours on the edge of a mutual release, the slightest of internal tremors shooting shafts of infinite pleasure through our united bodies and minds. Finally, when our love-tortured bodies could take no more, we would experience a mind-blowing climax that left us quaking in shock for several minutes after the volcanic release. Aftershocks continued to stir our languid limbs, and bring smiles of utter joy to both our faces, for some little time after the initial body quake.