Muleteer declines definitely to start, and offers to refund, but will go for increased hire. Muleteer publicly threatened with Governor, and called “That wind-bag.”
Muleteer retires, swearing he will die rather than start.
April 7th., eight A.M.—No muleteer. Nine A.M.—Arrival of muleteer and nine mules (i. e. ponies), four assistants, and a donkey. Assistant muleteer is secretly promised twenty kerans if he becomes the slave of hirer, to be given in Resht. Eleven A.M.—Mules at last loaded; they start. The wives of the servants come and weep on them. The takhtrowan is carried to the high-road. Twelve noon.—I take N⸺ (our English nurse), Frank, and the baby to the starting-place, and put them into the takhtrowan, placing Charlie, our eldest, with a nurse-boy, in one kajaweh, the woman-servant Bēbē in the other. They leave.
Half-past twelve.—I go round my rooms for the last time.
A⸺ (my wife) and I mount, with our table-servant, last of all. We leisurely walk our horses out. When we have got a quarter of a mile, our servant swears he has dropped his whip. I refuse to let him go back, as I don’t want to lose sight of him. Scene with him. Grumblings, threats.
We pass the Missionary house. We bid them all good-bye at the door. While this is taking place Ibrahim, the head-man, disappears. I gallop after him, leaving A⸺ to come on with the bedding and the groom. After a chase of two miles I catch him. He swears I told him to get up to the takhtrowan. Threats. Whispered curses. I shout myself hoarse. We cross the river, pass through the town, four miles out of which we reach the caravan. On over a sandy and muddy plain to Gez. Four farsakhs. Time, half-past four P.M. Tea, five P.M. Rest of caravan arrive. Eight, dinner. Nine, bed.
April 8th.—Leave Gez at nine A.M. Over a sandy plain, six farsakhs, twenty-three miles, to Mūrchicah. Cold wind, dull day, rain threatening. Arrive at “chupper-khana” (post-house) at five, having breakfasted among some ruins on the road, about half-way. The post-house keeper at this place was the man who behaved so well to me, and lent me clothes when I was robbed, so I gave him a double present, as usual, and a bottle of wine.
April 9th.—Left this morning at seven for Soh, six long farsakhs; left the plain, half-way breakfasted, and at the dam, a long farsakh from Soh, were met by Sergeant McG⸺. After ten minutes it began to rain heavily, and though we cantered for two miles, we got pretty wet ere we got our rugs. On their reaching us it left off raining. Mrs. McG⸺ gave us a magnificent high tea. Soh is a terribly cold place. We were hospitably entertained and well fed, but it is impossible to get warm, even with huge fires.
April 10th.—In the morning at five A.M. the ground was covered with snow, and the weather was severe; it also rained till seven, when it cleared a little. Started the caravan at eight, selves at nine. Rain and drizzle till we got to the Kohrūd Pass, when it suddenly came on to snow heavily.
The track was through snowdrifts half melted, and before we had got a dozen yards up the steep ascent, A⸺’s mare was off the track, trembling with fear, and up to her girths. A⸺, too, fancied, I think, that it was all over with us. The muleteers began to call on God, Ali, and the other saints, but we blundered along, one mule only falling. The snow got very thick, but our goggles protected our eyes, and we were heavily wrapped up. One side (the windward) soon got white, and A⸺ appreciated the big, old-fashioned, silk handkerchief which I gave her, to keep her sun hat on, and protect her face from the snow. After an hour and a half of this, we cleared the pass, the takhtrowan having got over in safety, and N⸺ and the babies not having had to get out, which, if they had been obliged to do, would, with knee-deep snow and two feet of mud, have been a serious matter.