'DIARY OF A TOUR IN THE PERSIAN GULF AND IN TURKISH ARABIA, DECEMBER, 1906 (WITH MAP)' [‎5v] (10/106)

4
Basra ;
7th December 1906.
We reached Maskat after breakfast on
Monday, 3rd December.
There I found awaiting me a telegram
from the Foreign Secretary with His Ex
cellency the Viceroy withdrawing the ob
jections already alluded to which he had
made regarding my short tour in these
regions. This was very satisfactory, Mas
kat is a curious little corner of the world,
its surroundings, if anything, more desolate
and dreary in appearance than Aden,
though the town itself possesses a quaint
and picturesque appearance all its own.
As a place to live in, either from the cli
matic or social point of view, Maskat comes
badly, I should say, out of the comparison.
At Aden one at least has a constant stream
of shipping coming and going. At Maskat
the weekly Karachi packet boat is the
one event of existence, The local society
consists of the British and French Consuls,
a doctor, a Frenchman engaged in the arms
traffic, and a solitary shipping agent. The
latter has the good sense to go away as
often as he can manage. The harbour
consists of three sides of a square of bare
and rough volcanic rock, the middle side,
facing the open sea, having built close down
to water’s edge a number of white buildings,
the Consuls’ residences, post office, and
Sultan’s palace. These, with a few forts
dotted about the rough cliffs, and a big
wall behind, erected to keep out the
wild Arabs from the interior, who periodi
cally descend on the place and keep up a
fusilade in the characteristic light-hearted
fashion of the untamed son of the desert,
comprise the whole of Maskat town proper.
The native population live at another place
called Matra which is just round the corner.
It had been quite cool across the Arabian
Sea from Karachi, but it was uncommonly
hot, 90°, and a damp heat, at Maskat itself.
What it must be in the real hot weather
surpasses imagination. The Consul kindly
sent his boat off to me, and I went
ashore for a time. The water in the harbour
was wonderfully clear, and the place has
the redeeming merits of excellent fish and
an unlimited supply of what the Consul
described as the finest oysters in the world.
Unfortunately I did not get an opportunity
of sampling these latter. The Consul has
quite a nice house, but the life must be a
dreadful one. Tennis, and an occasional
game of bridge when a ship spends the night
in harbour, is all he has to look forward to
in the way of amusement. It would be
difficult to describe the arid desolation of the
Maskat.
Its amenities
Climate.