A Gradual Descent Of Over Two Thousand Feet Leads From Konar Takta
To The Village Of Dalaki, Which Is Situated On A Vast Plain, Partly
Cultivated, The Southern Extremity Of Which Is Washed By The Waters Of
The Persian Gulf.
There is a comfortable rest-house at this village,
the population of which is noted as being the most fierce and lawless
in Southern Persia.
Rest, though undisturbed by earthquakes, was,
however, almost out of the question, on account of a most abominable
stench of drainage, which came on at sunset and lasted throughout the
night. So overpowering was it that towards 3 a.m. both Gerome and
myself were attacked by severe vomiting, and recurrence was had to the
medicine-chest and large doses of brandy. One might have been sleeping
over an open drain. It was not till next day that I discovered the
cause - rotten naphtha, which springs in large quantities from the
ground all round the village. Curiously enough, the smell is not
observable in the daytime.
"We have done with the snow now, monsieur," said Gerome, as we rode
next morning through a land of green barley and cotton plains, date
palms, and mimosa. On the other hand, we had come in for other
annoyances, in the shape of heat, dust, and swarms of flies and
mosquitoes. Nearing the sea, vegetation entirely ceases. Nothing is
visible around but hard calcined plain, brown and level, lost on the
horizon seaward in a series of mirages, ending northward in a chain
of rocky, precipitous mountains.
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