arrived at Ashurada, in order that we might go on without further delay.
But it being rather late in the evening, the Russian officer put off his
visit to the vessels till next morning. We cast anchor not far from the
shore. I was uneasy all night at the thought of these Russian officers
coming to-morrow to make their visit on board, and possibly being struck
by my European features and complexion. I was not afraid of any inhuman
treatment, but I feared they might wish me to give up my journey and
discover my identity to my companions. The pleasant sound of church
bells roused me next morning. My companions told me that this was the
Sunday of the infidels and their holiday. One of the men-of-war in our
neighbourhood was beflagged all over. I observed, after a while, that a
boat, manned by sailors in full uniform, was sent from her to the shore,
and returned to the ship immediately with an officer in full uniform. In
about ten minutes we were called upon to draw nearer to the Russian
vessel, and I perceived that several fair-haired officers were standing
near the gangway. The nearer I approached the faster beat my heart, and
I tried, as well as I could, to place myself in such a way as not to
have to meet their eyes. The day being a holiday the search was made
very superficially, their interpreter exchanging a few words with Yakub,
whilst the officers were making fun of our party of beggars. I heard one
of them say: "Just look, how white this hadji's complexion is,"
referring in all probability to me whose face was less weatherbeaten and
tanned than my companions. Yakub was soon allowed to leave; and,
weighing anchor, our vessel, favoured by a fair breeze, bravely ploughed
the waters. In a few hours the Turkoman sea-shore, looking like a long,
moderately undulating line, rose before our eyes. Yakub and his men took
in the sail, the water ceasing to be navigable. We were about a mile and
a half from the mouth of the _Gorghen_, along the two shores of which
stretches the camp, called Gomushtepe, presenting the appearance of a
dense mass of beehives placed close to each other.
XVIII.
GOMUSHTEPE.
We had to wait out in the sea for a while, until the boats were sent by
Yakub to take us to shore. We were conveyed in small detachments to the
dry land, Hadji Bilal and myself remaining the last. When we stepped on
land we were informed that Yakub had already announced our arrival to
Khandjan, the chief of the Gomushtepe, and that the latter was hastening
to receive us at once. He was kneeling a few steps from us, engaged in
his noon-prayers; and having done, he rose and came towards us with
hurried steps. He was a tall, slenderly built, very plainly dressed man,
about forty years old, his long beard reaching his breast. He embraced
me first, and calling me by my name, cordially bade me welcome. Then
came Hadji Bilal's and Hadji Salih's turn, and our whole caravan being
together we all followed him to the tents. The news of our arrival had
already spread, and women, children and dogs promiscuously rushed out of
the tents to see the pilgrims, who, according to their mollahs
(priests), by their mere embrace make the untravelled partakers of
divine grace, and sharers, to some extent, in the merit of the
pilgrimage. The scene before my eyes was so novel, so surprising, that I
did not know which way first to turn my attention; the oddly constructed
cloth tents, and the women in their long silk skirts, reaching to their
heels, claiming it alike. Besides I had enough to do to satisfy the
hundreds of friendly hands extended to me to be shaken. The young and
the old, children and women, were striving to get near our persons in
order to touch the hadjis, to whose garments the holy dust of Mecca and
Medina was still clinging. We arrived in front of the chief Ishan's
(priest's) tent quite exhausted by the devout and hospitable reception.
We collected in one group waiting for quarters to be assigned to us. The
inhabitants who were gathered there almost engaged in a regular scuffle
about having us for their guests; every one wished to be the host of one
of the poor pilgrims, and much as I had heard of the hospitality of the
Nomads, it was all exceeded by what I had now an opportunity of
witnessing. The women especially were vociferous in their rivalry, so
much so that Khandjan himself was compelled to put an end to their
scrambling by making an equitable distribution of the pilgrims. He took
me, Hadji Bilal and those belonging to our own set into his own _ova_
(tent). In order to reach his tent, which was at the very end of
Gomushtepe, we had to pass through the whole camp, extending on both
sides of the river Gorghen. This river rises far away in the mountains,
abounding in fish to such an extent as to render its waters almost foul
at the best of times, and quite undrinkable in summer. Twice I washed in
it, and each time my face and hands smelt of fish.
The dusk of evening was approaching when we arrived, tired and
exhausted, at Khandjan's tent, hoping to get a little rest. Vain hope!
True, there was the tent destined for us, standing near that of
Khandjan, on the shore of the Gorghen, but scarcely had we taken
possession of it, with the customary ceremony of walking thrice round it
and spitting at each of the four corners, than visitors came crowding
into the narrow space. They remained till late in the evening asking us
thousands of questions which it taxed our whole strength to answer
properly. Our host at length took pity on us, and called upon our
visitors to leave us to ourselves in order that we might obtain some
rest. Supper, consisting of boiled fish and sour milk, was brought us
meanwhile by Khandjan's son, a boy twelve years old, called Baba
Djan--_i.e._, literally, the father's soul. The meal was brought into
the tent on a large wooden platter by a Persian slave, who dragged a
heavy chain after him. He was relieved of the dish by Baba Djan, who
placed it before us, and sat down by his father's side, while both
looked at us with genuine satisfaction as we fell to with our keen
appetites upon the dishes before us. After the meal was over we said our
prayers in the customary way. Hadji Bilal raised his hands, every one
present following his example, and as he finished by passing his hand
over his beard and saying, "Bismillah," Allah Ekber, his action was
repeated by everybody. Then Khandjan was congratulated on all sides on
account of his guests, and the visitors dispersed.
On the following morning, the 13th of April, as I awoke thoroughly
refreshed and invigorated by a night's sound sleep on a tolerably
comfortable couch, I found Hadji Bilal standing by my side and was
invited by him to take a walk. During the walk he sermonized me a
little, telling me that it was time I should doff the rank of Effendi,
and become a dervish body and soul. "Thou must have observed," he
continued, "that both I and all our companions, without distinction of
age, have said our _fatiha_ (blessing) on the men. This thou too must
now look to. I know that it is not the custom to do so in Roum, but here
people will wish it of thee, and they will find it very strange that
thou, professing to be a dervish, dost not fulfil the duties of a
dervish. Thou knowest the form of blessing; utter it with confidence and
a proper expression of devoutness. Thou mayest bestow the _nefes_ (holy
breath) too, if called to the bedside of the sick; but ever remember to
hold out thy hand, for well do these people know that we dervishes live
by our holy trade, and that a present is never amiss with us." He then
asked my pardon for having dared to instruct me, but, added, that he
meant it for my best. I need not say that I felt much obliged to him for
his advice and observations, which were prompted by the genuine interest
he took in me.
On this occasion my friend told me also that Khandjan and other
Turkomans had been inquiring about me, with a peculiarly mysterious air,
and that he succeeded, with great difficulty only, in persuading them
that my journey possessed no official character whatever. The Turkomans
thought I was going to Khiva and Bokhara on some secret and confidential
anti-Russian mission of the Sultan. Hadji Bilal was too sensible to
flatly contradict their impressions in the matter, well knowing that
they hold the Sultan in high respect, and that I should be benefited by
making them think more highly of me.
We returned to our quarters, and found Khandjan with his whole family,
his relations and numerous friends, already waiting for us. He brought
to us his wife and his aged mother, to obtain for them our blessing. We
blessed everybody present, one by one. Khandjan then declared that,
guests being according to Turkoman custom the dearest members of the
family, we could go about without let or hindrance not only amongst his
tribe, the _Kelte_, but also amongst that of Yomut, and that if any of
them should so much as dare to touch a hair of our heads, he would know
how to obtain satisfaction for such an outrage. "You must remain with us
two weeks longer, at least," continued our host, "until some caravan
happens to go to Khiva. Take now your rest, visit the other tents; a
Turkoman never allows a dervish to leave his tent with an empty hand,
and it will do you no harm to fill your bread-sacks well, for it is a
long journey from here to Khiva and Bokhara."
We gladly followed his advice. During the first day I went visiting at
several of the tents, in the company of Khandjan, or his brother and
friends of the family. Later on I went with Hadji Bilal, bestowing
blessings, or visiting the sick in company of Hadji Salih, who dabbled
considerably in the art of healing. Whilst he gave the medicine, I
bestowed the blessing on the patient, and was rewarded for it by the
gift of a small piece of cloth, dried fish and other trifles. Whether it
was owing to my successful cures or to the curiosity of the people to
see the hadji from Roum, I do not know, but certain it is that patients
came flocking to me, and I treated them by either bestowing my blessing
upon them, or breathing upon them, or writing talismans for them. Here
and there sceptical people thought me a political emissary and strongly
doubted my dervishship, but I paid very little attention to them.
The number of my acquaintances was daily increasing, the most prominent
people being amongst them. The friendship of Kizil Akhond, whose real
name was Mollah Murad, proved to be of particularly great service to me.
The recommendations of this distinguished scholar, who was universally
respected, opened the way everywhere. He had in his possession a book
which he got, while studying in Bokhara, treating of Mohammedan
theology, written in Ottoman-Turkish, which he found some difficulty in
understanding; and I had a chance of obliging him by furnishing the
proper key to it. He was very much pleased with my conversation, and
spoke everywhere in the highest terms of me, especially praising me for
my great knowledge of the books of Islam. I managed to secure the kind
feelings of Satligh Akhond, another highly respected priest. When I
first met him he gave thanks to Providence, in a special prayer, for
having permitted him to behold, in my person, a Mussulman from Roum, the
true source of the faith; and upon people commenting in his presence on
the whiteness of my complexion, he insisted that this was the real
_nur-ul-Islam_, the light of Islam shining from my face, and was by the
blessing of God the birthright of the Western faithful only. Nor did I
fail to cultivate the friendship of Mollah Durdis, who was invested with
the rank of a chief judge (Kazi Kelan), for I soon found out that the
ulemas were the only class who could exercise any influence over this
savage people. As a sort of scholar, I, too, shared in the general
esteem, and may cite, in point, the following instance. There were
ancient Grecian ruins on the territory of Gomushtepe, probably of a fort
built by Alexander the Great, which gave a name to the settlement. These
ruins contain the only stone walls to be met with in the whole
neighbourhood. It was considered proper, Gomushtepe being the principal
settlement of the Yomuts, to raise there a temple to God, built of
stone, particularly as the materials necessary for the same were
furnished in abundance at the ruins near by. I was selected by Kizil
Akhond, in my capacity of the most learned and experienced dervish, to
determine the place and the proper position, in the direction of Mecca
(Kibla), of the altar (_mihrab_), a task which I very readily
accomplished.
In the company of Kizil Akhond, I made an excursion, occupying four
days, into the territory of one of the tribes of the Yomuts, living to
the east, and the Goklen Turkomans. On returning we were told that Hadji
Kari Mesud, one of my companions, living in a tent used as a mosque, had
been robbed. The stolen articles were searched for everywhere, but could
not be found. Finally the Sheikh or Imam caused it to be publicly
announced that he would pronounce a curse against the thief, unless the
stolen property were restored to its rightful owner within a given time.
The threat had its effect, for scarcely twenty-four hours had passed
when the thief made his appearance, penitent and humble, bringing with
him not only the stolen property, but some presents of expiation
besides. About the same time we received some good news in regard to a
caravan which was to go to Khiva. The Khan of Khiva, whom the physicians
had ordered to drink buffalo milk for his health, had sent his
_kervanbashi_ (chief of the caravans) to Astrabad to buy two buffaloes,
there being no such animals in his dominions. The kervanbashi had
already passed through Gomushtepe, and we were to join his caravan and
start at once with him upon his return. A better guide we could not
desire, for there was not a man more familiar with the desert than he.
I thought it very strange that many of our party were urging our
departure, although these poor people were entertained in the most
hospitable manner. "It is impossible for us," they replied to my
queries, "to witness any longer the cruelties perpetrated against these
poor Persian slaves. It is true they are heretics and that we have to
bear much ill-treatment in passing through their country, but what these
poor people must suffer exceeds all bounds." The reader may imagine what
the fate of these Persian slaves under their Turkoman masters must have
been, if even my Tartar companions, who, it is true, know of no slave
trade in their own country, had their compassion roused at the spectacle
of their sufferings. Usually these poor people are forcibly torn, during
the night, from the bosom of their families, and often dragged here
covered with wounds. The poor man, once a prisoner, has his clothes
taken away, and receives instead a few scanty rags barely sufficient to
cover his nakedness, and heavy chains are placed upon his limbs, galling
his ankles and heels, and causing him cruel pain at every step he takes.
In this way he continues for weeks to drag out a miserable existence on
coarse food, and to prevent him from running away during the night, an
iron collar (_karabogra_) is placed around his neck by which he is
chained to a stake, the clanking of his chains betraying his slightest
movement. He continues in this sad plight until he is either ransomed by
his relations or sent to Khiva or Bokhara to be sold.
There is hardly a Turkoman of the better classes near whose tent the
clanking of the chains of a couple of slaves is not heard. Khandjan had
also two slaves, youths from eighteen to twenty years old, and my heart
ached whenever I saw them dragging their heavy chains after them. I had
the additional mortification of being compelled to insult and swear at
them in public, as the slightest sympathy shown to them would have
roused suspicion in my host, particularly as they addressed me oftener
than the others, owing to my knowledge of their language. The younger of
our two domestic slaves, a fine youth from Iran, with black curls,
begged of me to write his parents a letter, beseeching them, for the
love of God, to sell their house and sheep, and ransom him. I did as he
requested. Upon one occasion I thought I could pass him, unobserved, a
cup of tea, but as he was about to take it from my hands some one
entered the tent. I did not, however, lose countenance for one minute; I
pretended to have only teased him, and the poor fellow, instead of
getting a cup of tea, had to put up with a few gentle blows from me, to
keep up my false pretence. Not a night passed during my stay in
Gomushtepe without firing being heard from the sea announcing the
arrival of a slaver.
The inhabitants of Gomushtepe were untiring in the arrangement of feasts
for devotional purposes, and on such occasions the entire hadji-company
had to be present. I once wished to excuse myself, but was ushered out
of my tent by a violent poke in the ribs from my would-be host, it being
a rule of Turkoman etiquette that "the harder the thrusts, the more
cordial the invitation." Upon these festive occasions it is the custom
to spread in front of the host's tent a few pieces of cloth, or if the
thing is done in great style, carpets, upon which the invited guests
seat themselves in groups of six, each group forming a circle. Each of
these groups gets a large wooden platter, the contents of which vary in
quantity according to the ages and number of the guests, and every one
helps himself with his hands, thrusting them into the plate until they
reach its bottom. As to the quality of the dishes, the less said about
them the better; I will only mention, in parenthesis, that horse's and
camel's meat is the order of the day.
Whilst we were the guests of Khandjan he celebrated by a feast the
betrothal of his son, a boy of twelve years, with a girl of ten; and, of
course, we had to be present at this feast. Originally the betrothal was
to have taken place in the following autumn, but he took advantage of
our presence to get our blessing for the young couple. A rather
remarkable man was the Karaktchi, by whom also an entertainment was
arranged in honour of our party. This man, all by himself and being on
foot, took three Persians prisoners, and drove them a distance of eight
miles into slavery. He gave us, as our share, a tenth part of the
plunder, being the tithe belonging to the priests and amounting to two
krans for each of us; and when we sang, blessing him, the fatiha, the
man was beside himself with joy.
After we had passed three weeks in Gomushtepe we began our preparations
for the onward journey, Khandjan promising to assist us in every way. We
gave up the idea of purchasing camels owing to the expense it involved,
and made up our minds to hire, instead, one camel for every two persons,
which would carry at the same time the water and the flour of those two.
The latter plan, however, would have been attended with considerable
difficulty but for the assistance we got from Ilias Beg, who happened to
be the very man we wanted for our purposes. This man differed from the
others in being less religiously inclined, and being wanting in respect
towards our hadjiship, but he observed all the more scrupulously the
laws of hospitality. He was a Turkoman from Khiva, and belonged to the
tribe of Yomut. Once in every year he used to cross the desert and visit
this neighbourhood on business, and whilst on these visits enjoyed
during his stay in Gomushtepe the protection of Khandjan, without which
he would have been no more safe than any other stranger. He generally
came in the autumn and left again in spring with from twenty to thirty
camels laden partly with goods of his own, and partly with goods
belonging to others. This season he was anxious to take with him a
greater number of camels, not caring even if they were without a load,
and the conveyance of our party came to him in the nick of time.
Khandjan solemnly adjured him to take good care of us. "Thou shalt
answer for their safety with thy life, Ilias!" he said, and the latter,
fixing his eyes upon the ground, as the Nomads always do when they seem
to be in earnest, merely answered: "Thou knowest me." We settled with
Ilias to pay him two gold pieces for the hire of every camel we were to
use, but that he should convey our water and flour free of charge. The
money I had sewn into various parts of my ragged garments, added to what
I had received in money for my blessings and cures, would have permitted
me to hire a camel by myself, but Hadji Bilal persuaded me not to do so.
He represented to me that an appearance of misery, inviting pity, was
the best protection against the Nomads, whose predatory instincts are
roused at the slightest indication of ease or comfort about a person. He
mentioned the names of several of our companions who were well provided
with money, but who, for safety's sake, are compelled to be clad in rags
and to walk on foot. Yielding to his representations, I, too, hired a
camel in common with another man; with this proviso, however, that I
should be allowed to make use of a _kedsheve_ (two baskets, one hanging
on each side of the camel), because of the difficulty I should
experience in sitting, with my lame foot cramped up, in the company of
another man, for forty long stations. Ilias was not inclined to grant my
request, this kedsheve being in the desert an additional burden to the
camel, but he finally yielded to the persuasions of Khandjan. It was a
source of additional satisfaction to me that I succeeded in securing
Hadji Bilal for my neighbour, or rather counterpoise, for he became
every day more indispensable to me.
When the bargain was concluded we paid Ilias his hire in advance,
according to custom. Hadji Bilal then said a fatiha, and Ilias having
smoothed the few thin hairs representing his beard, and answered with an
affirmative "Amen," we felt quite easy about the arrangement. We urged
him to hasten his departure, but he would make no promises, the time of
his starting depending upon that of the kervanbashi of the Khan of
Khiva, who was to go in front of the caravan with his buffaloes.
In _Etrek_, a place on the river of the same name and the first station
on our road, we were to enjoy the hospitality of _Kulkhan_, the
_Karaktchilar piri viz_ (gray-beard of the robbers), who just then
happened to be in Gomushtepe, and to whose special grace we were
commended by Khandjan. This old rascal had a morose and repulsive look
about him. When he learned that I should be his guest in Etrek he seemed
to study my features, and exchanging whispers with Khandjan appeared not
to agree with the others. I very soon found out the reason of his
distrust. In his youth he had travelled all over Russia, had passed
considerable time in Tiflis, and had become tolerably familiar with
European life. He told them he had seen men of various nations, the
Osmanlis excepted, that the latter, too, are said to be kinsmen of the
Turkomans and to resemble them, but that to his surprise there was
nothing in my features to indicate the remotest relationship with
either. Hadji Bilal remarked to him, in reply, that he was badly
informed, as he himself had been living for a long time in Roum, and had
never observed the resemblance spoken of by him. Kulkhan was somewhat
pacified by this explanation, and, informing us that he would leave for
Etrek the day after to-morrow, he told us to hold ourselves in readiness
for the journey; for, added he, although Etrek was only twelve miles off
we could not get there without him, and he was only waiting for the
return of his son Kolman from the _alaman_ (a predatory venture). He
invited us, at the same time, to walk to the lower shore of the Gorghen
about noon, when his son would return and gladden us with a rare
spectacle. Not having anything to do I was easily persuaded to go and
mix with the crowd already assembled there, eagerly waiting for the
arrival of their friends. Before long eight Turkoman horsemen were seen
advancing in a furious gallop toward the opposite shore, bringing with
them about ten spare horses. Eager eyes, full of mute admiration,
followed every movement of the young horsemen, who in a second had
crossed swimming the Gorghen, reached our shore, dismounted, and were
now extending with indescribable gravity their hands to their friends
and relations. However much I despised their occupation I could not help
feasting my eyes on the manly forms of these young fellows, who in their
short riding costumes, their long fair hair falling in curls on their
shoulders, and with defiant looks, were the objects of general
admiration. At the sight even morose Kulkhan cheered up a little, and
after introducing his son, who received Hadji Bilal's blessing, we
parted in order to attend to the final preparations for our journey.
XIX.
FROM GOMUSHTEPE TO THE BORDER OF THE DESERT.