The Great Ruby Mystery – E.I.C. Merchant Ship “Success” – Rangoon, Burma 1789
This is a fascinating and long-forgotten tale of lust, love, romance, adventure, and treasure involving a fabulous Burmese ruby, a beautiful and powerful princess, an English gentleman/businessman, a cipher, some rare Ortelius maps of India, Asia, and England, and a very famous ship…
In the summer of 1789, William Forsythe's adventure working for "The Company" in the Kashmir Valley of the northernmost region of the sub-continent of India took a dramatic and adventurous turn. He and his trusted servant Muhammed Singh went from traveling and being treated and honored as royalty to being hunted as fugitives and cursed by India's most powerful princess as what amounts to "India's Most Wanted" of the time.
A group of recently acquired maps by the well-known and collected mapmaker of the 16th century, Abraham Ortelius contained a very exciting bonus and adventurous provenance. The group of maps contained a lengthy letter from William Forsythe to his wife, and a short note with a cipher (cipher in English, Sanskrit, and Hindu) to his friend John Wallace. The letter was written on what is very likely a blank page from Ortelius' atlas and the note and cipher are written on the verso of the Asiae Nova Descripto map. Upon researching the maps and documents, only one reference to them was found and the realization of outcome of William Forsythe's tale left one saddened. An obscure article in the Jeweler's Circular, May 30th, 1923 shed some light on the story.
Here are his letter transcribed in full, followed by the note and English portion of the cipher (Sanskrit and Hindu portion shown in images).
To my dear wife – Since in the time which must need elapse before you receive this, you doubtless will have already mourned me as dead, the fact that by the time this letter reaches you, I will have been dead many months may not come as so great a shock to you as it otherwise would. If I live, this letter will never be sent. Otherwise, you will, I trust, my dear, receive it from the hands of faithful Muhammed Singh. God forbid that he, too, should share my fate.
Pursued day and night by minions of a native princess who has sworn that I shall not leave India alive, and by priests of the great Temple of Amarnath, from which I took the ruby, (of which more anon). I owe my life this far only to Muhammed Singh and to my disguise. For many months we have been disguised as Lascars, and for additional safety I am passing as a mute. We are now in Rangoon, working as laborers on a fine merchant ship, building for the E.I.C. We reached here after privations and took this work in the hope of eventually reaching England on this vessel, which is named “Success”. May she prove so to our venture! Yet I have little hope of that. Death, swift and sure is said to follow those who possess the Maharanee ruby.
Which makes me fear, dear heart, lest through this priceless jewel, which should come into your hands with this letter, some harm befalls you. This fateful stone is all that I have for you as a legacy. Please sell it at once. Its price should enable you to live in ease for many years. But continued possession of it spells death perhaps in a terrible form. If possible, have John Wallace, whom I am asking to go to London to get the jewel, sell it for you. In that way you will not have to handle the ruby at all and escape its curse.
You’re one eager, doubtless, to know how so great a treasure came into my possession, and in what manner I offended one of the most powerful princesses of India. I shall tell it briefly, yet in full.
As I related in my last letter, I was sent to Kashmir on a mission for the company. Of my voyage travelled in kingly fashion on an elephant over the fine Grand Trunk Road from Calcutta to Delhi, I will not dwell. Suffice it to say that I was received everywhere as personage of royalty. You, my dear, would have laughed could you have seen me. Kashmir fittingly styled by travelers “the epitome of the whole world” is the Venice of India. Its festive populace fairly live on the water, and its great ones disport themselves in boats, built palaces which float on Dahl Lake, the placid waters of which are thick with lotus leaves. In summer this lake is the scene of many bacchanalian festivities, in which the royalty of principality join in a most abandoned fashion.
Received here as a guest of great importance, my mission compelled me to join in the revelry of this water city pleasure. It was thus that I met the Maharanee Mira Bai. Unlike the Hindus of the sunnier southern country, this princess of the Himalayas had skin as white as the lily which with her large black eyes and perfectly formed features made her the acme of beauty. Do not understand me, my dear wife, as seeing the woman but as the beauty of one of God’s creatures that I admired at the time, and that I now praise. Nor misconstrue my seeming lack of modesty when I say that she seemed from the first moment of our meeting to become enamored of me, your husband. Ignoring the coldness with which I met her unwelcomed attentions, she finally pressed me the matter to openly asking me to marry her, and when I told her (I well imagine with some tender note in my voice, conjured up by the thought of you) that I had a wife in England, she demanded that I dispel you from my mind and remain forever with her, if not as husband, then as las paramour. My horror at this suggestion must have been apparent for when, at the daybreak, I prepared to depart with Singh and my servants, I discovered that not only had my retinue vanished, leaving me only the faithful Muhammed Singh, but that I had been robbed as well. There remained only our clothes. Since that day there has been no respite from attempts to carry out her threat to keep me in India dead or alive. Her assassins and her curses have been ever with us.
Angered at this unseeming treatment, I determined to take signal revenge, and Singh and myself carried out this plan before my anger cooled. In the perpetually lighted Temple of Amarnath sacred to Siva the Hindu, holy of holies was a magnificent ruby, an offering to the goddess from the same Maharanee Mira Bai. Prevailing upon a Hindu priest, by what pretext it no longer matters, to let us visit the shrine in which the priceless jewel shone. Muhammed Singh filched the stone. We had already donned suitable disguises, and with the ruby in our possession, a few pounds of rice and bread in our pockets, we fled the city. A short distance from Kashmir we helped ourselves to two horses and headed our course towards the seaport of Karachi many days march away.
Let me not dwell on the hardships of that journey. We reached Karachi and disguised as Yogis bound on pilgrimage, took ship to Rangoon.
Do not weep over me, my dear wife, but do so adjust your affairs that the future will hold much happiness in store for you. I leave to you the unthankful task of conveying to my Uncle Benjamin and his good wife, Susan, the contents of this letter. God be with you.
Your husband,
William Forsythe
Burma July 1789
Rangoon Burma July 1789
John Wallace, Esq.
Care of Peter Holcombe, Esq.
Tunbridge Wells
London, Eng.
Dear Jack – If this letter is delivered you will know that I am dead. I am entrusting it to my faithful servant Muhammed Singh, whom I know you will reward suitably on delivery. Immediately upon receipt of this letter, please proceed as indicated and deliver same to my wife, who will see that you are rewarded for your friendly service.
A great ruby light is shining aboard the ship & Success is coming back home.
Affectionately,
William Forsythe
As for the provenance of these maps, or rather their adventures and travels, that can be gleamed from researching the history of the ship "Success". Generally speaking, the maps travelled back and forth across the oceans, spent 5 years at the bottom of Sydney Harbor, spent time incarcerated with other prisoners, and was a hidden attraction during the tourist circuit in the ship's later days.
