NOTE TO THE READER.
The usual orthography of some proper names has been altered, with a view of rendering them more conformable to the pronunciation and the grammar of the languages to which they belong. For instance, our old friend and favourite, the caliph Haroun-al-Raschid of the Arabian tales, appears under his Arabic name of Hâroon-oor-Rasheed. The critical reader will also discover that a few of the Eastern words have not always been spelled exactly alike. This unintentional typographical inaccuracy was caused by the peculiar circumstances under which these volumes were printed.
SKETCHES OF PERSIA.
CHAPTER I.
Voyage from Bombay to the Persian Gulf.
There is a monotony in a long sea-voyage, particularly to passengers, which those who have never traversed the wide ocean cannot well understand. A fair or contrary wind, a calm or a storm, a man overboard, a strange sail, or the hooking of a shark, are events which rouse for the moment; but the passenger soon sinks again into his listless, restless life, sitting half an hour below, walking another half hour on deck, holding on by the rigging when the ship rolls, looking over the gangway when the sea is smooth, watching the man casting the log, and waiting with anxiety to hear the latitude announced at twelve o'clock. His little incidents are, being in the way of the officer of the watch when upon deck, and when below disturbing the captain's calculations of the longitude, by laughing or talking with other idlers; for that is the class in which he is registered in the muster-roll of the crew. With me, however, there is a pursuit which helps to beguile a long voyage. I am always on the lookout for odd characters, and these abound at sea; from which circumstance, I suppose, we have our common phrase of calling an out-of-the-way person "an odd fish," alluding to the element where he is generally found. Such a one I met on board the frigate in which we sailed for Persia, and I shall give a sketch of him as taken at the moment.
This man, whose name was Peterson, was what he appeared to be, a blunt sailor: his experience in the Indian seas recommended him to the situation he now occupied, as acting master of a frigate: he was a figure to play Falstaff, being very stout, and nearly six feet high. He wore his clothes loose, and, when he came on board, a sailor, struck with his appearance, turning his quid as he eyed him, exclaimed, "We shall never be in distress for canvass; our new master wears a spare set of sails."
I shall give Peterson's history in his own words, as related after dinner the day he came on board. "I have been," said he, "thirty-two years at sea, and have seen both calms and storms. When a young man, I was stuck full of arrows by some savage Americans; and but for a tobacco-box, which stopped one that hit upon a vital part, I should have gone to Davy's locker at that time. Since I came to this country, twenty-eight years ago, I have had many ups and downs, but weathered them all pretty tolerably till three years since, when coming to Bombay in a small sloop, I was laid on board by some pirates belonging to Bate.[1] We fought as well as we could, but the rascals were too many for us, and while we were defending one part of the vessel they sprung on board at another, giving a fire at the same time, which killed my owner close beside me. A passenger then jumped overboard, for which, thought I, 'you are a fool;' for let the worst come to the worst, a man may do that at any time. One of these fellows looking at me cried 'Mar haramee,' which means, 'kill the rascal.' 'Mut mar,' 'don't kill him,' said a soft-hearted looking fellow, and defended me from the blow; so they did not kill me, but stripped and bound me to the capstan, and away they took us to Bate. When we came there, the chief or head fellow came on board, and I fully expected we should be sent ashore and hanged. When this chap sent for me, I was a pretty figure; I had not been shaved for three weeks, and I was wrapped round with a top-gallant studding sail. 'What are you?' said the fellow. 'An Englishman,' said I. 'Very well; I won't kill you.' 'Faith,' thinks I, 'I'm very glad of that.' 'My people,' says he, 'are all big thieves.' 'Egad,' thinks I, 'you are the biggest of the gang.' He then asked me what money or property I had; and I thought at one time he looked as if he would have given it back; so I tells him all, even to my gold watch. The whole was about five thousand rupees. 'Well, well,' says he, 'it shall be taken care of;' and I suppose it was, for I never saw a rap of it, only five rupees that the villain gave me, in a present, as he called it, to bear my expenses when he sent me and my crew to Bombay.