As the vessel had no deck, and consequently had no distinction of place, every one suited himself, and sat down where he wished as he entered. Yakoub, however, observing that this would disturb the trim and management of the vessel, we each seized our bundle and our provisions, and were closely packed in two rows near each other like salted herrings, so that the centre of the boat remained free for the crew to pass backwards and forwards. Our position then was none of the most agreeable. During the daytime it was supportable, but at night it was awful, when sleep threw the sitters from their perpendicular position to the right and left, and I was forced to submit for hours to the sweet burthen of a snoring Hadji. Frequently a sleeper on my right and another on my left fell one over the other upon me: I dared not wake them, for that would have been a heinous sin, to be atoned by never-ending suffering. It was mid-day on the 10th April, 1863, when a favourable wind distended our sails, driving the little vessel before it like an arrow. On the left side we had the small tongue of land; on the right, thickly covered with wood, extending down to the very sea, stood the mountain upon which rose the Palace Eshref, built by Shah Abbas, the greatest of the Persian kings. The charm of our Argonautic expedition was augmented by the beautiful spring weather; and in spite of the small space within which I was pent up, I was in very good spirits. The thought might have suggested itself to me that I had to-day left the Persian coast; that at last I had reached a point from which there was no drawing back, and {38} where regrets were useless. But no! at that moment no such idea occurred to me. I was firmly convinced that my travelling friends, whose wild appearance had at first rendered them objects of alarm, were really faithful to me, and that under their guidance I might face the greatest dangers.