In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

This news upset me altogether; I had determined to march to Teheran, and had hoped that by that time I should have got strong enough to post to the Caspian, catch the last Caspian steamer, and so home viâ Russia.

So impressed was I with the stupid idea that I must get home to get well, that I made up my mind at once to try and make a push to catch the Colonel and Sir A. Kemball. Tired as I was, I took a post-horse at once—I had not enough money with me to take two (in Persia one carries as little cash as possible). I told my servants to get home as well as they could.

I determined to push on coûte que coûte. Leaving Kashan at dawn I got to Kūm, twenty-one farsakhs (seventy miles), by ten at night, and I felt fit to die, for I couldn’t eat or drink, my stomach retaining nothing; eighteen hours in the saddle brought me to Teheran, twenty-three farsakhs, or seventy-seven miles. I got to Colonel S⸺’s house, only to find him gone. I had a bath, I still could eat nothing; I borrowed money and lay down till the afternoon, when I went before a medical board, who seemed to look upon my quick ride to the capital as a sort of certificate of perfect health, and I feared that my leave would not be granted. However, my appearance, my staring eyes and shaven head were in my favour, and leave was given me; but I was told that, as I must miss the steamer, it was useless. These steamers cease running as soon as the mouth of the Volga freezes, and a telegram had come to say the next one would be the last.

At five the same afternoon I mounted, having a bottle of claret, the only thing I could take, a tin of soup and some tea with me, also a brandy flask. I knew my only chance was to keep on. As I came to each stage I found the time Sir A. Kemball and Colonel S⸺ had preceded me was greater and greater, but they slept—I did not—I kept on, with the feeling that, as Giles Hoggett says, “it’s dogged as does it.” I rode all night and got to Kasvin, twenty-five farsakhs (eighty-eight miles), in fourteen hours. Here I had a difficulty in getting horses. The liberal presents given by Colonel S⸺ and his party had roused the extortionate feelings of the holy man in charge of the post-house (he was a Syud and a noted rascal). At first he would not give me horses at all, telling me there were none, and to go and rest, as I was ill; but I was determined. I submitted to the swindle of paying five kerans for a so-called permit for horses; this I carefully kept, promising myself to administer a thrashing should I ever return.

This I had the satisfaction of doing, when in robust health, some five months afterwards. And I duly thonged the Syud, to his astonishment and disgust, for I was so changed he did not recognise me. He then of course called me “aga” (master) and held my stirrup when I mounted.

After a delay of about four hours I got away from Kasvin, and I was now gaining on the party in front; but I was doubly unfortunate: the Colonel’s large party took seven horses, and more if they could get them, and I was preceded by the courier, who, a hale man, had started two hours in front of me. Thus the horses I got were doubly tired, but I kept on with the obstinacy of a sick man, though at times I think I was half delirious. I could eat nothing, and the only thing that had passed my lips since leaving Kashan, where I took soup, was a little claret; an attempt to breakfast in Teheran had made me very ill indeed. I arrived at a post-house, got two new horses, gave a present to my former guide, and on I went. I was too ill to talk, and my disinclination to speak caused an amusing incident at one place. The guide, thinking me a “new chum” who did not understand the language, amused himself the greater part of the stage by calling me “rascal,” “dog,” “son of a burnt father,” etc. This same fellow stole my matches and emptied my claret-bottle. I could have wept, but was too ill to thrash him or even remonstrate.

I kept on, never stopping more than the time to saddle. Night came on, and on getting to Rustumabad I was delighted to find the courier asleep, giving his two tired horses a rest. I took two others, also tired ones, and on I went, leaving him peacefully slumbering. We were now in dense forest—it was pitch dark; the horses previously tired by the rapid riding of Colonel S⸺’s party, and the return journey from the long and bad stage of six farsakhs, they having gone before my getting them about forty miles. When I got some ten miles into the forest, the poor beasts refused to move. The guide was, or pretended to be, in great terror of wild beasts, repeating “Jūniver, jūniver!” (“Wild animals!”) to me continually. Of the presence of these there was no mistake, from the continued noises and roarings, though we saw none. There was nothing for it but to dismount. My matches being stolen, I tore out some cotton wool from my quilt, mixed it with a little powder from a broken cartridge, and fired my revolver through it. We soon had an enormous fire. How I enjoyed it and the rest! The damp of the swamps—it is as damp here as it is dry in the middle and south of Persia—had seemed to enter my bones; and how I had longed for rest. Now I got a little for the first time, lying on my quilt, my head on my saddle-bags, before an immense fire, which the guide fed with broken trunks and boughs. I enjoyed a sensation of delightful rest I have never felt before or since. I even managed to eat a little soup, and the guide made tea in the tin. How I revelled in it, for I knew I must catch the Colonel by breakfast-time, before he could leave Resht, and consequently not lose the last steamer. I reluctantly left the fire as soon as the horses could move, and we plodded on in the dark. We got to Koodūm before dawn, and into Resht to M. M⸺’s house by nine, where I found the Colonel and his party at breakfast.

Thirty-one farsakhs, over long stages and bad roads, in twenty-two hours (one hundred and eight miles), or one hundred and ninety-six miles from Teheran in forty-one hours, was good travelling on tired horses, and for a sick man.

Colonel S⸺, who was astounded at seeing me, supposing me four stages beyond Kashan, must, I think, have looked upon me as an impostor. He was very cold indeed.

I tried to eat some breakfast, but failed, and left on a bad horse to cross the swamp with the rest of the party for Peri-bazaar. It was some miles through a nasty swampy road, the fine chaussée there now is, not then existing.