The next day, Sunday, Henry wrote: ‘I am in rather better spirits today, I am come down to my cabin to proceed with my journal. We are sailing down the channel at a tolerable pace and they say today we shall pass Land’s End.’13 Although less homesick, he was awkward and unhappy in his relationships with the other passengers, being constrained by etiquette in approaching them. He felt especially ignored by Sir John Malcolm, who was on his way to Bombay to take up the governorship: ‘Sir John now speaks to every other passenger on board except me, and as I cannot get introduced to him I see no probability of our ever conversing.’14 Misery again overwhelmed Henry: ‘I am sure I shall hate India and [wish] that I was once more in England – could I but once more see Georgiana and Maria, there is no situation however menial that I feel at present I had not rather undergo in my native land than be a private among strangers and savages … the rest of my life will be merely a mechanical employment of the body … I cannot write without becoming unhappy so I had better conclude for the present and read Scott’s Life of Napoleon.’15
The advice given in The Cadet’s Guide to India was to pass the time usefully and ‘to devote two or three hours in the morning to the study of the Hindoostan language; then let reading, or drawing, fill up the space after dinner, after which he [the cadet] will be at leisure and like to walk the quarter-deck with his companions, or partake of their rational sports’.16 Henry began to follow this advice, as seen in his journal entry for 9 July: ‘It has been a very uncomfortable day and I have been all day in my cabin reading, fagging and playing the flute. Begin to get rather more comfortable, though I cannot as yet reflect with any comfort on my future destiny. Until I become tolerably habituated to banishment, I should deem it best to think as little as possible of my former happiness … Maria and Georgiana – I still think of you, and whatever pain the thought may cost me, the recollection of my home and infancy shall never be forgotten.’17
Henry’s ambitions began to stir when he was finally noticed: ‘Sir John drank wine with me at dinner … it will be no very difficult thing to bring myself into his notice as most of my fellow passengers are sad stupes. He scribbles poetry so I’ll try an ode … We have been crossing the Bay of Biscay these last two days and I have hitherto escaped sickness. I think myself pretty safe now for the rest of my voyage.’18 But for 11 July he recorded: ‘Rather stormy and very heavy sea which made me a little sick but nothing to signify – have been talking to Sir John Malcolm – shall never persuade myself to cringe and toad-eat him as some of the fellows do … indeed I cannot think he likes it as he is a very clever man himself and often says that everyone’s promotion must depend on his own talents and he will never give a place to any one unfit for it, however strongly recommended – can get no one to join me in my Hindoostanee as they are all only just beginning. Played some whist … and by a continued run of good cards cleaned them out of 14 shillings. I have now, Maria, written one sheet of my promised journal and will send it by the first conveyance.’19
The next day a severe storm threatened: ‘We have now passed the Bay of Biscay and they say the coast of Spain was to be seen … After dinner there was a tolerable commotion as the Captain … prognosticated a hurricane. The sails were all taken down or furled, the decks were cleared and we all waited in anxious suspense. The stormy Petrel skimmed along the waves, the sky became covered with lurid and spiral clouds and the waves rose portentously – however like the fable of the mountain and the mouse, while we were thus all raised to the highest pitch of expectation, a few gulls huddled fitfully among the shrouds, a few large heavy drops descended upon the deck and it was gone. The waves again subsided, the sails were unfurled and we soon left far behind us the boisterous and uneasy waters of the Bay of Biscay. This is my first adventure and I flatter myself I have described it very prettily.’20
A week into the voyage brought better weather, but Henry’s mood remained melancholy: ‘This has been the first warm day. The evening was delightful – the blue expanse of heaven where the stars glittered with ethereal splendour was lighted occasionally by gleaming meteors, and the silent and placid water over which we glided appeared frequently ignited. The luminous nature of the phosphorus sometimes sparkling and sometimes winding in wreaths of transient light around the vessel occasioned this extraordinary appearance … had I been in the company of Georgiana or Maria, I had [would have] been happy – but real pure happiness I have lost for at least 10 years if not for ever. In future every pleasure I enjoy must be embittered with the reflexions that I have no one who loves me to share it with me, and what are all the delights and enjoyments of the body compared with pure genuine and unsophisticated love!’21
The next day, Henry suffered his first proper bout of seasickness: ‘Very high sea and the waves were really for some time beautiful, but the ship rolled so, that I was for the first time sea sick and so was deprived of the pleasure of viewing them – however after I had slept for an hour, eaten a hearty dinner and drank lots of wine I was quite well.’22 He went on to regret the lack of women on board – these was only one (Sir John’s daughter), and she was married. Gradually, Henry became more confident with the people on board and professed admiration for Sir John, who ‘must be an exceedingly clever person, and he seems possessed of such a fund of anecdotes that though he has been unremittingly employed in telling stories ever since he came on board, he still goes on at such a rate as to keep the whole table in a continual roar in which he himself always heartily joins’.23 Many of his tales were of Persian history and literature, which inspired Henry to resume studying Persian when he reached India. Sir John also believed it his duty to urge all the cadets on board to strive for the greatest success, encouraging them throughout the journey by lending them books and giving them tasks to perform, such as copying out his manuscripts.
At last Henry was enjoying himself: ‘After tea we have plenty of amusements beginning with fencing and singlestick – afterwards dancing and music and finishing with chess, cards, backgammon &c. We have a little band on board belonging to the ship consisting of clarionets, fifes, trumpet, violin and drum, which they play reels, waltzes, the quadrilles as much as we like. Sir John goes on laughing, talking and story telling as much as ever … I have not yet given way to my temper at all, notwithstanding I have had many provocations.’24 Henry also recorded that he was now ‘quite an expert sailor, having been up higher [in the rigging] than any of the Passengers except McDougal, who is a regular dab at it. All laugh at him about his foolhardiness, but I must own that I admire it.’25 His own bravado and agility would later serve him well when climbing the rock face of Bisitun.
What Henry regretted was his tendency to drink too much wine, and after one particularly heavy session drinking punch, he felt quite unwell and was ‘determined to be abstemious’,26 though soon after he was drinking his brother Abram’s health on his birthday ‘in a bumper of claret’.27 He might try to be abstemious, but he could not avoid wine and beer altogether, for the water on board was so bad that Henry refused to drink it. Personal hygiene must also have been sparing, to judge from the advice given to cadets: ‘Washing of linen is not permitted at sea, as the fresh water cannot be spared for it. Hence