THE SUNDARBANS 233 
those of the Ganges, flow into the sea, is a long cry, 
for it includes a railway journey of-nearly thirty-six 
hours, and a descent of several thousand feet, before 
the launch lying in the canal at Calcutta is reached. 
For the tidal waters, which are often rough with 
cyclonic storms, a stiffer, more powerful boat is 
required than in the fresh-water highways of India ; 
and here again the Chittagonian Mohammedan is 
in charge, and the chant of the leadsman sounds 
strangely familiar. No beauty of architecture or of 
boat design need be expected in the Sundarbans ; 
the people live in huge beehives thatched with palm- 
leaves, and their boats do not show, as in the farther 
East, any signs of artistic skill. The well-to-do 
Bengali is seldom attractive to his visitors; his: 
assumption of European dress and of a knowledge 
of the English language lays him open to criticism 
which is perhaps undeserved; for how should he 
believe that he appears to our eyes more charming 
when he takes a proper pride in his national costume 
and in the soft language of his country ? 
The Bengali of the Sundarbans, however, does not 
follow Western fashions ; a scanty loin-cloth is ample 
covering to his perspiring body, for such a dress is 
adapted to his severe climate and arduous work. He 
is engaged in supplying Calcutta with timber and 
fuel, with matting, and with palm-leaves for thatch- 
ing; he is the slave of winds and tides, and awaits 
their pleasure. If he lands, he must be on the look- 
out for tigers, for in these forests some seventy or 
eighty human beings are annually killed for food ; 
and as the narrow creeks fringed to the water's 
edge with mangroves are passed, you may see the 
