CHAPTER XXI.OFF TO PERSIA BY WAY OF STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA”—FREQUENT MEETINGS WITH ROAD AGENTS AND AMERICAN FIRE-ARMS TO THE RESCUE.We took passage on the little coasting steamer “Assyria,” leaving Kurrachee on Sept. 28, at 7 o’clock in the morning. There were but two other passengers in the cabin besides Mrs. McIlrath and myself, one a wealthy Arab, the other a missionary of the Reformed Dutch Church. The voyage across the Persian Gulf was colorless and void of incident. Passengers, captain and officers expressed regret that Mrs. McIlrath and I had been so unfortunate in selecting a year which had created so much disturbance in Persia. Scarcity of crops had forced many villagers to subsist by robbery and murder of travelers, and within a single day’s journey of the coast hundreds of cases were reported. Politics were affected also, many threats of violence being heard against the Shah and his corps of diplomats. With such a gloomy outlook for a peaceful passage through the wild lands, and the knowledge that winter would overtake us in the mountains of Asiatic Turkey, we had good cause for feeling blue as we sighted the hazy shores which loomed up in the distance on Oct. 8. We anchored three miles off shore, shortly after daybreak. After breakfast, a boat came alongside, the pilot ran up the gang stairs and informed us of the arrival in Bushire of a package of letters. As we were almost destitute, this bit of news made us all the more impatient to be off. Gathering up our boxes, bicycles and the monkey, we shook hands with the genial crew of the “Assyria” and pushed off for Bushire.To learn that there were no telegrams and news concerning our money, which had been lost in the mails to Kurrachee, would have stunned us had we been anything but American nomads. Bushire did not afford a hotel, and two paupers were forced to look up an Armenian shop-keeper, and persuade him to clear two rooms in an unfinished building, and furnish us with bedding and food during our enforced stay. By sundown on the day of our arrival we were comfortably installed, and though seriously crippled as active participants in the world’s tour, we were happy and cheerful. Though the community of foreigners in Bushire was small, there is a certain sympathetic bond between all which renders the circle delightful, and as all welcome a new arrival with outstretched arms, we found our stay in the town a very pleasant one. We were dined by Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Churchill, of the Interior Bank of Persia; Surgeon Captain Lumsden, Mr. J. Meyer and Col. Mead, the British Consul General. We also enjoyed a delightful little “tiffin” with Mr. Christmas, of the Indo-European Telegraph Company’s inspection corps, and all of these gentlemenunited in preparing us for our journey inland. As the first and second steamers arriving from India brought no news of our lost money, we finally gave up all idea of restoration, and deciding that a longer wait was impracticable, made preparation to start at once, having communicated by cable with our American resources. After a week of laying in stores, supplies and heavy clothing, obtaining passports, permits to sleep in telegraph stations, and letters of introduction, we bade adieu to our friends on Nov. 8, and following in the rear of a gang of coolies, started forth to Teheran.ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page 108).ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page108).The journey from Bushire to Teheran may be divided into three complete stages: first, from Bushire to Shiraz, 173 miles; thence to Ispahan, 312 miles; then on to Teheran, 285 miles. To cycle from Bushire to Shiraz is quite as impossible as to cycle up the side of Pike’s Peak. The elevation often reaches 6,000 feet and the road is a mass of boulders and deep sand. The ascent is not gradual, but a continuation of terraces called “kotals” by the Persians, and in these kotals donkeys are the only creatures which can safely walk and carry burdens. Our path lay through uninhabited sand desert, with not a tree or shrub visible. Walking over unbroken road by the side of a patient and heavily-laden mule is as tiresome as it is monotonous, and we were a badly used pair when we arrived at Kushub, the end of our first day’s journey in Persia. Resuming the trip the next morning, we soon caught up with a caravan of three score mules, laden with shiny tin cases of petroleum, which bore the welcome brand, “made in the United States.” Our forces now consisted of more than fifty men, the majority armed with muzzle-loading rifles, a few with pistols and the remainder with clubs having iron knobs at the end. We felt then sufficiently strong to resist the robbers, against whom we had been warned. The bandits first manifested themselves when the caravan was stopped, and the head muleteer asked for a “present.” I was astounded to find that the robbers were none other than a few soldiers who were supposed to be guarding a little village we had passed some miles back. As the “present” is always cash, and often demanded at the muzzle of a gun, the courts of any civilized country would probably call such proceeding highway robbery, but in Persia, where troops are unpaid at under-paid rates, and often go ragged and hungry for years, the laws cannot be supposed to be of superior standing to the army. Toward Mrs. McIlrath and me the unkempt rascals were civil enough, but persisted in detaining the muleteers. I suppose the basis of a “present” was finally agreed upon, for the orders were given to push on after a brief delay. We were slightly in advance of the caravan, continuing our way among the boulder-strewn foothills, when just about daybreak, three men sprang from behind rocks and halted us.They demanded money. Our servant was slightly in advance of Mrs. McIlrath and me, and he promptly pushed a 45-calibre revolver under the nose of the leader. The second man looked into my rifle, and in less than ten seconds so many gun locks clicked behind my back that I feared one would be discharged by accident, and the boy and myself perforated as well as the bandits. It was evident from the manner of the trio that they realized that they had made a mistake, but whether the mistake lay in the fact that we were well armed, or that we were foreigners, was not made clear. They declared themselves soldiers, who only wished a “present” and when I refused to accept their explanation, they protested that they were honest men, but hungry. Such might have been the case, but we gave them nothing except advice that they sell their guns and buy bread. An attempt on the part of a second trio of men, encountered a few days later, to obtain a contribution, resulted in an exhibition of spunk by Mrs. McIlrath. The leader had seized the bridle of her mule, and startled her to such an extent that she poked the muzzle of her revolver into the fellow’s face. The villain released his grip and apologized profusely for not having recognized us as Europeans. They seemed to think that so long as they robbed only the natives, they committed no crime.We halted at Diriz on Oct. 12, having been on the road for twelve hours without food. The muleteers, for some reason, probably anxiety to fulfill their contract and be through with us, protested against the delay, urging that we could find neither food, water nor shelter in the place. I had learned by this time that the low caste Persians are born liars, and insisting upon the stop, we found, just as we had expected, both food and water. We refreshed ourselves, and two hours later proceeded at snail-like pace across the plain to Kazeroon. We spent three days in this city, the guests of Mr. Marker, an excellent type of the educated Armenian, who furnished us with much information and took care to see that we were started on our journey in proper form. Wearied by the fatigue of sleepless days and monotonous journeying by night, we changed our hours for travel when we left Kazeroon, taking our departure at 8 o’clock in the morning. One of the mostlaborioustasks of our entire journey was now before us. Climbing the Alps is nothing compared with the ascent of the kotals in Persia. The muleteers know nothing of scenery, and do not even know the names of villages only a half a mile from the beaten path. But they do know that delays cause great annoyance, and they keep you constantly at the best speed you are capable of making, lest some descending caravan meet you and confusion ensue. One of the mules, upon which was loaded Mrs. McIlrath’s bicycle, backed into a huge boulder which jutted into the road, breaking the fork and rendering it unfit for use. Friday, Nov.19, the road into Shiraz, began to take on a fairly smooth appearance, whereat I lost no time in oiling up my bike. As I prepared for a stiff run into Shiraz, Mrs. McIlrath, contemplated her damaged machine, and expressed a wish that the mule had died the day before she entrusted her wheel to his care. Two miles of fairly level road enabled me to distance the horde of rough riders. Caravan after caravan my cycle passed, not pausing until I whizzed down the main street of Shiraz, arriving three hours ahead of my party.A native mechanic repaired Mrs. McIlrath’s wheel, though it took him eight days to do so, giving us ample time to make friends in the city. One would be difficult to please who could not enjoy life in Shiraz. Dr. Sculley and Mr. Wood, superintendent of telegraphs, alternated in dinners; Mr. Von Rijkon, an adopted American, entertained us at lunch, and in each European home we sipped afternoon tea, were entertained with music and listened to delightful little stories of Persian life. With friends we made several excursions about the city, bartering in the bazaars, visiting the places of interest and calling upon Persians of high rank. Our sight-seeing in Shiraz was ended on Wednesday, Dec. 1, when we departed for the north. Our cyclometer revealed that we covered twenty-three miles by dusk over sandy roads and in the face of strong winds, the first day out from Shiraz. At Zerghun we halted for the night, and were up and away before daybreak the next morning. By 10 o’clock we could see outlined against the blue mountains to the north, a village which we knew to be Kinorah, a small, harmless little settlement, where we had been advised to seek accommodations. The ruins of Persopolis are near by, and wishing to visit the grandest monument of a kingly ruler’s power that the modern world knows, we wheeled into Kinorah, where we were the guests of the Rev. W. A. Rice.
CHAPTER XXI.OFF TO PERSIA BY WAY OF STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA”—FREQUENT MEETINGS WITH ROAD AGENTS AND AMERICAN FIRE-ARMS TO THE RESCUE.We took passage on the little coasting steamer “Assyria,” leaving Kurrachee on Sept. 28, at 7 o’clock in the morning. There were but two other passengers in the cabin besides Mrs. McIlrath and myself, one a wealthy Arab, the other a missionary of the Reformed Dutch Church. The voyage across the Persian Gulf was colorless and void of incident. Passengers, captain and officers expressed regret that Mrs. McIlrath and I had been so unfortunate in selecting a year which had created so much disturbance in Persia. Scarcity of crops had forced many villagers to subsist by robbery and murder of travelers, and within a single day’s journey of the coast hundreds of cases were reported. Politics were affected also, many threats of violence being heard against the Shah and his corps of diplomats. With such a gloomy outlook for a peaceful passage through the wild lands, and the knowledge that winter would overtake us in the mountains of Asiatic Turkey, we had good cause for feeling blue as we sighted the hazy shores which loomed up in the distance on Oct. 8. We anchored three miles off shore, shortly after daybreak. After breakfast, a boat came alongside, the pilot ran up the gang stairs and informed us of the arrival in Bushire of a package of letters. As we were almost destitute, this bit of news made us all the more impatient to be off. Gathering up our boxes, bicycles and the monkey, we shook hands with the genial crew of the “Assyria” and pushed off for Bushire.To learn that there were no telegrams and news concerning our money, which had been lost in the mails to Kurrachee, would have stunned us had we been anything but American nomads. Bushire did not afford a hotel, and two paupers were forced to look up an Armenian shop-keeper, and persuade him to clear two rooms in an unfinished building, and furnish us with bedding and food during our enforced stay. By sundown on the day of our arrival we were comfortably installed, and though seriously crippled as active participants in the world’s tour, we were happy and cheerful. Though the community of foreigners in Bushire was small, there is a certain sympathetic bond between all which renders the circle delightful, and as all welcome a new arrival with outstretched arms, we found our stay in the town a very pleasant one. We were dined by Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Churchill, of the Interior Bank of Persia; Surgeon Captain Lumsden, Mr. J. Meyer and Col. Mead, the British Consul General. We also enjoyed a delightful little “tiffin” with Mr. Christmas, of the Indo-European Telegraph Company’s inspection corps, and all of these gentlemenunited in preparing us for our journey inland. As the first and second steamers arriving from India brought no news of our lost money, we finally gave up all idea of restoration, and deciding that a longer wait was impracticable, made preparation to start at once, having communicated by cable with our American resources. After a week of laying in stores, supplies and heavy clothing, obtaining passports, permits to sleep in telegraph stations, and letters of introduction, we bade adieu to our friends on Nov. 8, and following in the rear of a gang of coolies, started forth to Teheran.ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page 108).ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page108).The journey from Bushire to Teheran may be divided into three complete stages: first, from Bushire to Shiraz, 173 miles; thence to Ispahan, 312 miles; then on to Teheran, 285 miles. To cycle from Bushire to Shiraz is quite as impossible as to cycle up the side of Pike’s Peak. The elevation often reaches 6,000 feet and the road is a mass of boulders and deep sand. The ascent is not gradual, but a continuation of terraces called “kotals” by the Persians, and in these kotals donkeys are the only creatures which can safely walk and carry burdens. Our path lay through uninhabited sand desert, with not a tree or shrub visible. Walking over unbroken road by the side of a patient and heavily-laden mule is as tiresome as it is monotonous, and we were a badly used pair when we arrived at Kushub, the end of our first day’s journey in Persia. Resuming the trip the next morning, we soon caught up with a caravan of three score mules, laden with shiny tin cases of petroleum, which bore the welcome brand, “made in the United States.” Our forces now consisted of more than fifty men, the majority armed with muzzle-loading rifles, a few with pistols and the remainder with clubs having iron knobs at the end. We felt then sufficiently strong to resist the robbers, against whom we had been warned. The bandits first manifested themselves when the caravan was stopped, and the head muleteer asked for a “present.” I was astounded to find that the robbers were none other than a few soldiers who were supposed to be guarding a little village we had passed some miles back. As the “present” is always cash, and often demanded at the muzzle of a gun, the courts of any civilized country would probably call such proceeding highway robbery, but in Persia, where troops are unpaid at under-paid rates, and often go ragged and hungry for years, the laws cannot be supposed to be of superior standing to the army. Toward Mrs. McIlrath and me the unkempt rascals were civil enough, but persisted in detaining the muleteers. I suppose the basis of a “present” was finally agreed upon, for the orders were given to push on after a brief delay. We were slightly in advance of the caravan, continuing our way among the boulder-strewn foothills, when just about daybreak, three men sprang from behind rocks and halted us.They demanded money. Our servant was slightly in advance of Mrs. McIlrath and me, and he promptly pushed a 45-calibre revolver under the nose of the leader. The second man looked into my rifle, and in less than ten seconds so many gun locks clicked behind my back that I feared one would be discharged by accident, and the boy and myself perforated as well as the bandits. It was evident from the manner of the trio that they realized that they had made a mistake, but whether the mistake lay in the fact that we were well armed, or that we were foreigners, was not made clear. They declared themselves soldiers, who only wished a “present” and when I refused to accept their explanation, they protested that they were honest men, but hungry. Such might have been the case, but we gave them nothing except advice that they sell their guns and buy bread. An attempt on the part of a second trio of men, encountered a few days later, to obtain a contribution, resulted in an exhibition of spunk by Mrs. McIlrath. The leader had seized the bridle of her mule, and startled her to such an extent that she poked the muzzle of her revolver into the fellow’s face. The villain released his grip and apologized profusely for not having recognized us as Europeans. They seemed to think that so long as they robbed only the natives, they committed no crime.We halted at Diriz on Oct. 12, having been on the road for twelve hours without food. The muleteers, for some reason, probably anxiety to fulfill their contract and be through with us, protested against the delay, urging that we could find neither food, water nor shelter in the place. I had learned by this time that the low caste Persians are born liars, and insisting upon the stop, we found, just as we had expected, both food and water. We refreshed ourselves, and two hours later proceeded at snail-like pace across the plain to Kazeroon. We spent three days in this city, the guests of Mr. Marker, an excellent type of the educated Armenian, who furnished us with much information and took care to see that we were started on our journey in proper form. Wearied by the fatigue of sleepless days and monotonous journeying by night, we changed our hours for travel when we left Kazeroon, taking our departure at 8 o’clock in the morning. One of the mostlaborioustasks of our entire journey was now before us. Climbing the Alps is nothing compared with the ascent of the kotals in Persia. The muleteers know nothing of scenery, and do not even know the names of villages only a half a mile from the beaten path. But they do know that delays cause great annoyance, and they keep you constantly at the best speed you are capable of making, lest some descending caravan meet you and confusion ensue. One of the mules, upon which was loaded Mrs. McIlrath’s bicycle, backed into a huge boulder which jutted into the road, breaking the fork and rendering it unfit for use. Friday, Nov.19, the road into Shiraz, began to take on a fairly smooth appearance, whereat I lost no time in oiling up my bike. As I prepared for a stiff run into Shiraz, Mrs. McIlrath, contemplated her damaged machine, and expressed a wish that the mule had died the day before she entrusted her wheel to his care. Two miles of fairly level road enabled me to distance the horde of rough riders. Caravan after caravan my cycle passed, not pausing until I whizzed down the main street of Shiraz, arriving three hours ahead of my party.A native mechanic repaired Mrs. McIlrath’s wheel, though it took him eight days to do so, giving us ample time to make friends in the city. One would be difficult to please who could not enjoy life in Shiraz. Dr. Sculley and Mr. Wood, superintendent of telegraphs, alternated in dinners; Mr. Von Rijkon, an adopted American, entertained us at lunch, and in each European home we sipped afternoon tea, were entertained with music and listened to delightful little stories of Persian life. With friends we made several excursions about the city, bartering in the bazaars, visiting the places of interest and calling upon Persians of high rank. Our sight-seeing in Shiraz was ended on Wednesday, Dec. 1, when we departed for the north. Our cyclometer revealed that we covered twenty-three miles by dusk over sandy roads and in the face of strong winds, the first day out from Shiraz. At Zerghun we halted for the night, and were up and away before daybreak the next morning. By 10 o’clock we could see outlined against the blue mountains to the north, a village which we knew to be Kinorah, a small, harmless little settlement, where we had been advised to seek accommodations. The ruins of Persopolis are near by, and wishing to visit the grandest monument of a kingly ruler’s power that the modern world knows, we wheeled into Kinorah, where we were the guests of the Rev. W. A. Rice.
CHAPTER XXI.OFF TO PERSIA BY WAY OF STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA”—FREQUENT MEETINGS WITH ROAD AGENTS AND AMERICAN FIRE-ARMS TO THE RESCUE.
OFF TO PERSIA BY WAY OF STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA”—FREQUENT MEETINGS WITH ROAD AGENTS AND AMERICAN FIRE-ARMS TO THE RESCUE.
OFF TO PERSIA BY WAY OF STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA”—FREQUENT MEETINGS WITH ROAD AGENTS AND AMERICAN FIRE-ARMS TO THE RESCUE.
We took passage on the little coasting steamer “Assyria,” leaving Kurrachee on Sept. 28, at 7 o’clock in the morning. There were but two other passengers in the cabin besides Mrs. McIlrath and myself, one a wealthy Arab, the other a missionary of the Reformed Dutch Church. The voyage across the Persian Gulf was colorless and void of incident. Passengers, captain and officers expressed regret that Mrs. McIlrath and I had been so unfortunate in selecting a year which had created so much disturbance in Persia. Scarcity of crops had forced many villagers to subsist by robbery and murder of travelers, and within a single day’s journey of the coast hundreds of cases were reported. Politics were affected also, many threats of violence being heard against the Shah and his corps of diplomats. With such a gloomy outlook for a peaceful passage through the wild lands, and the knowledge that winter would overtake us in the mountains of Asiatic Turkey, we had good cause for feeling blue as we sighted the hazy shores which loomed up in the distance on Oct. 8. We anchored three miles off shore, shortly after daybreak. After breakfast, a boat came alongside, the pilot ran up the gang stairs and informed us of the arrival in Bushire of a package of letters. As we were almost destitute, this bit of news made us all the more impatient to be off. Gathering up our boxes, bicycles and the monkey, we shook hands with the genial crew of the “Assyria” and pushed off for Bushire.To learn that there were no telegrams and news concerning our money, which had been lost in the mails to Kurrachee, would have stunned us had we been anything but American nomads. Bushire did not afford a hotel, and two paupers were forced to look up an Armenian shop-keeper, and persuade him to clear two rooms in an unfinished building, and furnish us with bedding and food during our enforced stay. By sundown on the day of our arrival we were comfortably installed, and though seriously crippled as active participants in the world’s tour, we were happy and cheerful. Though the community of foreigners in Bushire was small, there is a certain sympathetic bond between all which renders the circle delightful, and as all welcome a new arrival with outstretched arms, we found our stay in the town a very pleasant one. We were dined by Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Churchill, of the Interior Bank of Persia; Surgeon Captain Lumsden, Mr. J. Meyer and Col. Mead, the British Consul General. We also enjoyed a delightful little “tiffin” with Mr. Christmas, of the Indo-European Telegraph Company’s inspection corps, and all of these gentlemenunited in preparing us for our journey inland. As the first and second steamers arriving from India brought no news of our lost money, we finally gave up all idea of restoration, and deciding that a longer wait was impracticable, made preparation to start at once, having communicated by cable with our American resources. After a week of laying in stores, supplies and heavy clothing, obtaining passports, permits to sleep in telegraph stations, and letters of introduction, we bade adieu to our friends on Nov. 8, and following in the rear of a gang of coolies, started forth to Teheran.ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page 108).ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page108).The journey from Bushire to Teheran may be divided into three complete stages: first, from Bushire to Shiraz, 173 miles; thence to Ispahan, 312 miles; then on to Teheran, 285 miles. To cycle from Bushire to Shiraz is quite as impossible as to cycle up the side of Pike’s Peak. The elevation often reaches 6,000 feet and the road is a mass of boulders and deep sand. The ascent is not gradual, but a continuation of terraces called “kotals” by the Persians, and in these kotals donkeys are the only creatures which can safely walk and carry burdens. Our path lay through uninhabited sand desert, with not a tree or shrub visible. Walking over unbroken road by the side of a patient and heavily-laden mule is as tiresome as it is monotonous, and we were a badly used pair when we arrived at Kushub, the end of our first day’s journey in Persia. Resuming the trip the next morning, we soon caught up with a caravan of three score mules, laden with shiny tin cases of petroleum, which bore the welcome brand, “made in the United States.” Our forces now consisted of more than fifty men, the majority armed with muzzle-loading rifles, a few with pistols and the remainder with clubs having iron knobs at the end. We felt then sufficiently strong to resist the robbers, against whom we had been warned. The bandits first manifested themselves when the caravan was stopped, and the head muleteer asked for a “present.” I was astounded to find that the robbers were none other than a few soldiers who were supposed to be guarding a little village we had passed some miles back. As the “present” is always cash, and often demanded at the muzzle of a gun, the courts of any civilized country would probably call such proceeding highway robbery, but in Persia, where troops are unpaid at under-paid rates, and often go ragged and hungry for years, the laws cannot be supposed to be of superior standing to the army. Toward Mrs. McIlrath and me the unkempt rascals were civil enough, but persisted in detaining the muleteers. I suppose the basis of a “present” was finally agreed upon, for the orders were given to push on after a brief delay. We were slightly in advance of the caravan, continuing our way among the boulder-strewn foothills, when just about daybreak, three men sprang from behind rocks and halted us.They demanded money. Our servant was slightly in advance of Mrs. McIlrath and me, and he promptly pushed a 45-calibre revolver under the nose of the leader. The second man looked into my rifle, and in less than ten seconds so many gun locks clicked behind my back that I feared one would be discharged by accident, and the boy and myself perforated as well as the bandits. It was evident from the manner of the trio that they realized that they had made a mistake, but whether the mistake lay in the fact that we were well armed, or that we were foreigners, was not made clear. They declared themselves soldiers, who only wished a “present” and when I refused to accept their explanation, they protested that they were honest men, but hungry. Such might have been the case, but we gave them nothing except advice that they sell their guns and buy bread. An attempt on the part of a second trio of men, encountered a few days later, to obtain a contribution, resulted in an exhibition of spunk by Mrs. McIlrath. The leader had seized the bridle of her mule, and startled her to such an extent that she poked the muzzle of her revolver into the fellow’s face. The villain released his grip and apologized profusely for not having recognized us as Europeans. They seemed to think that so long as they robbed only the natives, they committed no crime.We halted at Diriz on Oct. 12, having been on the road for twelve hours without food. The muleteers, for some reason, probably anxiety to fulfill their contract and be through with us, protested against the delay, urging that we could find neither food, water nor shelter in the place. I had learned by this time that the low caste Persians are born liars, and insisting upon the stop, we found, just as we had expected, both food and water. We refreshed ourselves, and two hours later proceeded at snail-like pace across the plain to Kazeroon. We spent three days in this city, the guests of Mr. Marker, an excellent type of the educated Armenian, who furnished us with much information and took care to see that we were started on our journey in proper form. Wearied by the fatigue of sleepless days and monotonous journeying by night, we changed our hours for travel when we left Kazeroon, taking our departure at 8 o’clock in the morning. One of the mostlaborioustasks of our entire journey was now before us. Climbing the Alps is nothing compared with the ascent of the kotals in Persia. The muleteers know nothing of scenery, and do not even know the names of villages only a half a mile from the beaten path. But they do know that delays cause great annoyance, and they keep you constantly at the best speed you are capable of making, lest some descending caravan meet you and confusion ensue. One of the mules, upon which was loaded Mrs. McIlrath’s bicycle, backed into a huge boulder which jutted into the road, breaking the fork and rendering it unfit for use. Friday, Nov.19, the road into Shiraz, began to take on a fairly smooth appearance, whereat I lost no time in oiling up my bike. As I prepared for a stiff run into Shiraz, Mrs. McIlrath, contemplated her damaged machine, and expressed a wish that the mule had died the day before she entrusted her wheel to his care. Two miles of fairly level road enabled me to distance the horde of rough riders. Caravan after caravan my cycle passed, not pausing until I whizzed down the main street of Shiraz, arriving three hours ahead of my party.A native mechanic repaired Mrs. McIlrath’s wheel, though it took him eight days to do so, giving us ample time to make friends in the city. One would be difficult to please who could not enjoy life in Shiraz. Dr. Sculley and Mr. Wood, superintendent of telegraphs, alternated in dinners; Mr. Von Rijkon, an adopted American, entertained us at lunch, and in each European home we sipped afternoon tea, were entertained with music and listened to delightful little stories of Persian life. With friends we made several excursions about the city, bartering in the bazaars, visiting the places of interest and calling upon Persians of high rank. Our sight-seeing in Shiraz was ended on Wednesday, Dec. 1, when we departed for the north. Our cyclometer revealed that we covered twenty-three miles by dusk over sandy roads and in the face of strong winds, the first day out from Shiraz. At Zerghun we halted for the night, and were up and away before daybreak the next morning. By 10 o’clock we could see outlined against the blue mountains to the north, a village which we knew to be Kinorah, a small, harmless little settlement, where we had been advised to seek accommodations. The ruins of Persopolis are near by, and wishing to visit the grandest monument of a kingly ruler’s power that the modern world knows, we wheeled into Kinorah, where we were the guests of the Rev. W. A. Rice.
We took passage on the little coasting steamer “Assyria,” leaving Kurrachee on Sept. 28, at 7 o’clock in the morning. There were but two other passengers in the cabin besides Mrs. McIlrath and myself, one a wealthy Arab, the other a missionary of the Reformed Dutch Church. The voyage across the Persian Gulf was colorless and void of incident. Passengers, captain and officers expressed regret that Mrs. McIlrath and I had been so unfortunate in selecting a year which had created so much disturbance in Persia. Scarcity of crops had forced many villagers to subsist by robbery and murder of travelers, and within a single day’s journey of the coast hundreds of cases were reported. Politics were affected also, many threats of violence being heard against the Shah and his corps of diplomats. With such a gloomy outlook for a peaceful passage through the wild lands, and the knowledge that winter would overtake us in the mountains of Asiatic Turkey, we had good cause for feeling blue as we sighted the hazy shores which loomed up in the distance on Oct. 8. We anchored three miles off shore, shortly after daybreak. After breakfast, a boat came alongside, the pilot ran up the gang stairs and informed us of the arrival in Bushire of a package of letters. As we were almost destitute, this bit of news made us all the more impatient to be off. Gathering up our boxes, bicycles and the monkey, we shook hands with the genial crew of the “Assyria” and pushed off for Bushire.
To learn that there were no telegrams and news concerning our money, which had been lost in the mails to Kurrachee, would have stunned us had we been anything but American nomads. Bushire did not afford a hotel, and two paupers were forced to look up an Armenian shop-keeper, and persuade him to clear two rooms in an unfinished building, and furnish us with bedding and food during our enforced stay. By sundown on the day of our arrival we were comfortably installed, and though seriously crippled as active participants in the world’s tour, we were happy and cheerful. Though the community of foreigners in Bushire was small, there is a certain sympathetic bond between all which renders the circle delightful, and as all welcome a new arrival with outstretched arms, we found our stay in the town a very pleasant one. We were dined by Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Churchill, of the Interior Bank of Persia; Surgeon Captain Lumsden, Mr. J. Meyer and Col. Mead, the British Consul General. We also enjoyed a delightful little “tiffin” with Mr. Christmas, of the Indo-European Telegraph Company’s inspection corps, and all of these gentlemenunited in preparing us for our journey inland. As the first and second steamers arriving from India brought no news of our lost money, we finally gave up all idea of restoration, and deciding that a longer wait was impracticable, made preparation to start at once, having communicated by cable with our American resources. After a week of laying in stores, supplies and heavy clothing, obtaining passports, permits to sleep in telegraph stations, and letters of introduction, we bade adieu to our friends on Nov. 8, and following in the rear of a gang of coolies, started forth to Teheran.
ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page 108).ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page108).
ON DECK OF THE STEAMSHIP “ASSYRIA.”—(See Page108).
The journey from Bushire to Teheran may be divided into three complete stages: first, from Bushire to Shiraz, 173 miles; thence to Ispahan, 312 miles; then on to Teheran, 285 miles. To cycle from Bushire to Shiraz is quite as impossible as to cycle up the side of Pike’s Peak. The elevation often reaches 6,000 feet and the road is a mass of boulders and deep sand. The ascent is not gradual, but a continuation of terraces called “kotals” by the Persians, and in these kotals donkeys are the only creatures which can safely walk and carry burdens. Our path lay through uninhabited sand desert, with not a tree or shrub visible. Walking over unbroken road by the side of a patient and heavily-laden mule is as tiresome as it is monotonous, and we were a badly used pair when we arrived at Kushub, the end of our first day’s journey in Persia. Resuming the trip the next morning, we soon caught up with a caravan of three score mules, laden with shiny tin cases of petroleum, which bore the welcome brand, “made in the United States.” Our forces now consisted of more than fifty men, the majority armed with muzzle-loading rifles, a few with pistols and the remainder with clubs having iron knobs at the end. We felt then sufficiently strong to resist the robbers, against whom we had been warned. The bandits first manifested themselves when the caravan was stopped, and the head muleteer asked for a “present.” I was astounded to find that the robbers were none other than a few soldiers who were supposed to be guarding a little village we had passed some miles back. As the “present” is always cash, and often demanded at the muzzle of a gun, the courts of any civilized country would probably call such proceeding highway robbery, but in Persia, where troops are unpaid at under-paid rates, and often go ragged and hungry for years, the laws cannot be supposed to be of superior standing to the army. Toward Mrs. McIlrath and me the unkempt rascals were civil enough, but persisted in detaining the muleteers. I suppose the basis of a “present” was finally agreed upon, for the orders were given to push on after a brief delay. We were slightly in advance of the caravan, continuing our way among the boulder-strewn foothills, when just about daybreak, three men sprang from behind rocks and halted us.They demanded money. Our servant was slightly in advance of Mrs. McIlrath and me, and he promptly pushed a 45-calibre revolver under the nose of the leader. The second man looked into my rifle, and in less than ten seconds so many gun locks clicked behind my back that I feared one would be discharged by accident, and the boy and myself perforated as well as the bandits. It was evident from the manner of the trio that they realized that they had made a mistake, but whether the mistake lay in the fact that we were well armed, or that we were foreigners, was not made clear. They declared themselves soldiers, who only wished a “present” and when I refused to accept their explanation, they protested that they were honest men, but hungry. Such might have been the case, but we gave them nothing except advice that they sell their guns and buy bread. An attempt on the part of a second trio of men, encountered a few days later, to obtain a contribution, resulted in an exhibition of spunk by Mrs. McIlrath. The leader had seized the bridle of her mule, and startled her to such an extent that she poked the muzzle of her revolver into the fellow’s face. The villain released his grip and apologized profusely for not having recognized us as Europeans. They seemed to think that so long as they robbed only the natives, they committed no crime.
We halted at Diriz on Oct. 12, having been on the road for twelve hours without food. The muleteers, for some reason, probably anxiety to fulfill their contract and be through with us, protested against the delay, urging that we could find neither food, water nor shelter in the place. I had learned by this time that the low caste Persians are born liars, and insisting upon the stop, we found, just as we had expected, both food and water. We refreshed ourselves, and two hours later proceeded at snail-like pace across the plain to Kazeroon. We spent three days in this city, the guests of Mr. Marker, an excellent type of the educated Armenian, who furnished us with much information and took care to see that we were started on our journey in proper form. Wearied by the fatigue of sleepless days and monotonous journeying by night, we changed our hours for travel when we left Kazeroon, taking our departure at 8 o’clock in the morning. One of the mostlaborioustasks of our entire journey was now before us. Climbing the Alps is nothing compared with the ascent of the kotals in Persia. The muleteers know nothing of scenery, and do not even know the names of villages only a half a mile from the beaten path. But they do know that delays cause great annoyance, and they keep you constantly at the best speed you are capable of making, lest some descending caravan meet you and confusion ensue. One of the mules, upon which was loaded Mrs. McIlrath’s bicycle, backed into a huge boulder which jutted into the road, breaking the fork and rendering it unfit for use. Friday, Nov.19, the road into Shiraz, began to take on a fairly smooth appearance, whereat I lost no time in oiling up my bike. As I prepared for a stiff run into Shiraz, Mrs. McIlrath, contemplated her damaged machine, and expressed a wish that the mule had died the day before she entrusted her wheel to his care. Two miles of fairly level road enabled me to distance the horde of rough riders. Caravan after caravan my cycle passed, not pausing until I whizzed down the main street of Shiraz, arriving three hours ahead of my party.
A native mechanic repaired Mrs. McIlrath’s wheel, though it took him eight days to do so, giving us ample time to make friends in the city. One would be difficult to please who could not enjoy life in Shiraz. Dr. Sculley and Mr. Wood, superintendent of telegraphs, alternated in dinners; Mr. Von Rijkon, an adopted American, entertained us at lunch, and in each European home we sipped afternoon tea, were entertained with music and listened to delightful little stories of Persian life. With friends we made several excursions about the city, bartering in the bazaars, visiting the places of interest and calling upon Persians of high rank. Our sight-seeing in Shiraz was ended on Wednesday, Dec. 1, when we departed for the north. Our cyclometer revealed that we covered twenty-three miles by dusk over sandy roads and in the face of strong winds, the first day out from Shiraz. At Zerghun we halted for the night, and were up and away before daybreak the next morning. By 10 o’clock we could see outlined against the blue mountains to the north, a village which we knew to be Kinorah, a small, harmless little settlement, where we had been advised to seek accommodations. The ruins of Persopolis are near by, and wishing to visit the grandest monument of a kingly ruler’s power that the modern world knows, we wheeled into Kinorah, where we were the guests of the Rev. W. A. Rice.