Life in India/Land Ho!
Land Ho!
“Have a man aloft to look out for land," cries the captain. For more than eighteen weeks had we been at sea, but, by the mysterious agency of a timepiece and sextant, we knew that land was just before us. The order was gladly obeyed; and soon, “Land ho!" comes from the masthead, and “Land ho! land ho!" resounds through the ship. “Where away?” cries the captain.
“On the lee bow," is the reply.
It could not be seen from the deck; but mounting the mainmast, I caught sight of the blue hills of India. Yes! India! India! was before my eyes. My heart throbbed, and my soul was lifted up to God with an earnest desire to devote myself to his service in this dark land. Soon the shore was visible from the deck, and all feasted their eyes with the sight. The hills were the “high hills of Madras," but thirty miles south of our desired haven. The deep-sea line was got out, and the lead cast; we were in forty fathoms water. The shore grew more and more distinct, until, with 
Madras Catamaran. p.51.
delight, we saw trees rising upon the distant horizon. Every moment brought new excitements. Now a native vessel is bearing down upon us with its coarse black sail surmounting its primitive hull; the vessel looking as heathenish as its crew. Soon the cry of “boats” is raised; they are the catamarans of the Coromandel coast; one is just before us. It is manned by three Hindus, who stand or kneel, and ply their paddles now on this side, now on that, with great rapidity and skill. Their barque is composed of five untrimmed logs lashed together, (catamaran means “tied trees,”) and is sunk to the level of the water by their weight, so that at a little distance, you might imagine the boatmen to be walking on the sea. No matter how high the waves, when all other boats are worthless, the fisherman fearlessly launches his catamaran, and ventures out to sea.
Our visitors (for they boarded us to sell us fish) were dressed in a strip of cotton cloth about their loins, and a peaked and brimless hat of palm-leaf; one of them was more fully dressed, having on a woollen jacket, procured from some ship. As they clambered up the ship's side, almost naked, with their black bodies glistening in the sun, and jabbering in an unknown tongue, with squeaking voices and eager gestures, they seemed to us more like monkeys than men. Yet we remembered that they had souls as precious as our own, and prayed for strength to labour in faith for India's swarming millions.
As we passed with a light breeze up the coast, new scenes constantly broke upon our gaze, and objects were more clearly discerned as we drew nearer to the land. By afternoon we were abreast of the Seven Pagodas of Malaveram—ancient temples standing upon the shore, and one of them on a rock washed by the sea. A little later, Mount St. Thomé, which is but eight miles south of Madras, came in sight, with its shining-white Roman Catholic Church, the reputed burial-place of the apostle Thomas. At sunset the Madras light shone bright before us. Soon the masts of ships lying in the roadstead could be dimly seen in the darkness, and at half-past eight o'clock our anchor was dropped, and our voyage of one hundred and thirty-one days was at an end.