Leaving Ostend, we went out to sea under a clear sky and upon smooth
water--so smooth, indeed, that its surface was scarcely rippled. I say
the sky was clear, and so it was, clear and sunny; but a rich haze lay
upon the water in the distance--a soft, mellow mist, through which a
scattering sail or two loomed vaguely. One may call such a morning
perfect.
The corps of correspondents were well jaded with their railway journey,
but after champagne and soda downstairs with the officers, everybody
came up refreshed and cheery and exceedingly well acquainted all around.
The Persian grandees had meantime taken up a position in a glass house
on the afterdeck, and were sipping coffee in a grave, Oriental way. They
all had much lighter complexions and a more European cast of features
than I was prepared for, and several of them were exceedingly handsome,
fine-looking men.
They all sat in a circle on a sofa (the deckhouse being circular), and
they made a right gaudy spectacle. Their breasts were completely crusted
with gold bullion embroidery of a pattern resembling frayed and
interlacing ferns, and they had large jeweled ornaments on their breasts
also. The Grand Vizier came out to have a look around. In addition to
the sumptuous gold fernery on his breast he wore a jeweled star as large
as the palm of my hand, and about his neck hung the Shah’s miniature,
reposing in a bed of diamonds, that gleamed and flashed in a wonderful
way when touched by the sunlight. It was said that to receive the Shah’s
portrait from the Shah was the highest compliment that could be
conferred upon a Persian subject. I did not care so much about the
diamonds, but I would have liked to have the portrait very much. The
Grand Vizier’s sword hilt and the whole back of the sheath from end to
end were composed of a neat and simple combination of some twelve or
fifteen thousand emeralds and diamonds.
“IMPRESSING” A PERSIAN GENERAL
Several of the Persians talked French and English. One of them, who was
said to be a general, came up on the bridge where some of us were
standing, pointed to a sailor, and asked me if I could tell him what
that sailor was doing?
I said he was communicating with the other ships by means of the optical
telegraph--that by using the three sticks the whole alphabet could be
expressed. I showed him how A, B and C were made, and so forth. Good!
This Persian was “impressed”! He showed it by his eyes, by his gestures,
by his manifest surprise and delight. I said to myself, if the Shah were
only here now, the grand desire of Great Britain could be accomplished.
The general immediately called the other grandees and told them about
this telegraphic wonder. Then he said:
“Now does everyone on board acquire this knowledge?”
“No, only the officers.”
“And this sailor?”
“He is only the signalman. Two or three sailors on board are detailed
for this service, and by order and direction of the officers they
communicate with the other ships.”
“Very good! very fine! Very great indeed!”
These men were unquestionably impressed. I got the sailor to bring the
signal book, and the matter was fully explained, to their high
astonishment; also the flag signals, and likewise the lamp signals for
night telegraphing. Of course, the idea came into my head, in the first
place, to ask one of the officers to conduct this bit of instruction,
but I at once dismissed it. I judged that this would all go to the Shah,
sooner or later. I had come over on purpose to “impress the Shah,” and I
was not going to throw away my opportunity. I wished the Queen had been
there; I would have been knighted, sure. You see, they knight people
here for all sorts of things--knight them, or put them into the peerage
and make great personages of them. Now, for instance, a king comes over
here on a visit; the Lord Mayor and sheriffs do him becoming honors in
the city, and straightway the former is created a baronet and the latter
are knighted. When the Prince of Wales recovered from his illness one of
his chief physicians was made a baronet and the other was knighted.
Charles II made duchesses of one or two female acquaintances of his for
something or other--I have forgotten now what it was. A London
shoe-maker’s apprentice became a great soldier--indeed, a
Wellington--won prodigious victories in many climes and covered the
British arms with glory all through a long life; and when he was 187
years old they knighted him and made him Constable of the Tower. But he
died next year and they buried him in Westminster Abbey. There is no
telling what that man might have become if he had lived. So you see what
a chance I had; for I have no doubt in the world that I have been the
humble instrument, under Providence, of “impressing the Shah.” And I
really believe that if the Queen comes to hear of it I shall be made a
duke.
Friends intending to write will not need to be reminded that a duke is
addressed as “Your Grace”; it is considered a great offense to leave
that off.