Khandjan and our other friends and acquaintances. They remained with us
for an hour, and no matter how often I begged of Khandjan to turn back,
I could not induce him to do so. He insisted upon rigorously observing
the laws of Turkoman hospitality, lest he might give me cause for
complaining of him. It was truly with a heavy heart that I exchanged
with him a last farewell embrace, for I had learned to love him as one
of the most noble-minded men, who, unselfishly and without the least
self-interest, had for a considerable time most hospitably entertained
myself and five others. I felt sorry at not being able to make some
suitable return for so much kindness, but what I regretted most was my
having been compelled to practise deception upon this trustiest of
friends by my disguise and compulsory concealments.
We proceeded in a north-eastern direction through an endless plain. Our
small caravan, consisting of Ilias's camels and six horses, moved on in
close order, we having been informed by Kulkhan that there were such
karaktchis in this part of the country who did not acknowledge his
authority, and would feel no hesitation at attacking himself, if they
thought themselves the stronger party. Ilias gave me as far as Etrek the
use of a horse he had got from Kulkhan in order to save me the
discomfort of riding on a camel. But whenever we came across a puddle I
had to share my saddle with one of our companions, on foot, and he would
clutch at my clothes with such violence, that he nearly pulled me from
my seat. On one occasion we had to pass through a marsh covered with
rushes, which served as a cover for an immense herd of wild hogs or
boars. Kulkhan and Ilias had ridden in advance in order to discover some
roundabout path, by means of which the caravan might steer clear of
these wild animals. As I was cautiously feeling my way with a companion
in the saddle, my horse gave a sudden start; and before I well knew what
had happened, we were both of us sprawling on the ground. Midst roars of
laughter coming from my companions, I heard something like a cross
between a squeal and a howl, and turning to discover the place whence
these sounds issued, I saw before me two young wild pigs over which I
had stumbled. Their mother had frightened my horse, and hearing the
squeal of her litter she drew quite near us in a rage, showing her
tusks; and she would have made a rush upon us if Shirdjan, the brother
of Ilias, had not perceived our perilous position and placed himself
with his lance raised high between us and the infuriated animal. The
young pigs had, meanwhile, scrambled off, and their mother turned tail
and went back to her lair. Kulkhan's son caught the runaway horse and
brought it back to me with the remark that I was a lucky man to have
escaped being killed by a wild hog, for he who receives his death from
such an animal enters the next world in a state of uncleanness, no
matter how pious a life he had led, and must suffer the fires of hell
for five hundred years before he can be purified again, and even then
not completely.
We passed the first night in a group of tents at a cousin's of Kulkhan.
They knew already of our coming, and my hungry hadji friends interpreted
the smoke rising above the tents, which we saw upon drawing near, as a
sign of coming good cheer. The other hadjis and myself were quartered in
the narrow tent of Allah Nazr. This aged Turkoman, poor and needy as he
was, grew wild with joy at Heaven sending him guests to entertain. A
goat was all he possessed, but he killed it to do honour to his guests.
The following day he succeeded in getting some bread for us, a thing
which had not been in his house for weeks; and upon seeing us
surrounding the plate filled with meat and falling to with our
tremendous appetites, our host and his aged helpmate, who had seated
themselves opposite to us, shed tears of joy, in the literal sense of
the word. Allah Nazr would not retain for himself any part of the animal
thus offered up to us; its horns and hoofs, which if burnt to powder are
used with effect on the galled sores of camels, he gave to Ilias; for me
he destined the skin to serve as a vessel for water, having first rubbed
it well with salt, and then carefully dried it in the sun.
Next day we resumed our march. At this station I took for the first time
possession of my basket, having sacks of flour placed as a counterpoise
in the other basket; for my friend Hadji Bilal wished to deny himself
this luxury on that day. We had been going onward for scarcely two hours
when we lost sight of green fields and came upon a melancholy soil
emitting the pungent smell of salt. We were in the desert. The nearer we
approached the mountain ridge called Kara Sengher (black wall) the
softer did the soil get under our feet, and it became quite a bog when
we came quite near the mountain. The camels, with their legs stretched
apart, had every trouble to keep from sliding, and I was threatened
every minute with being upset and left on the ground, basket and all. I
deemed it wiser to dismount of my own accord, and after a dreadful
scramble of one hour and a half succeeded in climbing the Kara Sengher,
from whence we shortly afterwards reached Kulkhan's _ova_ (tent).
When we arrived there I was rather startled at being immediately
conducted by Kulkhan into his own tent, and being told by him with great
emphasis that I should not stir out of it until I was called. A few
minutes later I heard him without, scolding his wife and reproaching her
with never being able to find the chains when they were needed, and
ordering her to find them for him immediately. Upon hearing this I began
to suspect that something was wrong. Several times he entered the tent
looking about him with gloomy looks, but never addressing a syllable to
me. My suspicions increased, and all at once it struck me as strange
that Hadji Bilal, who but rarely left me to myself, had not been near me
for a considerable time. The most dreadful misgivings overwhelmed me;
that fatal clanking of the chains outside the tent still continued. At
last I saw that my fears were unfounded, for the chains being
forthcoming I found that they were intended for the poor Persian slave
who had been dragged with us to this place. Kulkhan afterwards prepared
tea, and when we had partaken of it he beckoned to me to follow him to a
new tent, adjoining his, especially erected for my use. This was to
have been a surprise, and hence came the mysterious manner which had
given me such a scare.
I must confess that this was neither the first nor the last time that
the grim look and suspicious doings of the Turkomans, who afterwards
turned out to be my best friends, filled my mind with all kind of
horror. I never felt quite safe as to my future, and the only
consolation left to me was my lameness, which made me quite valueless in
the eyes of the slave-dealers. Of course, as the time went on, I began
to be accustomed to this perpetual anxiety, and in spite of the constant
danger in which I found myself, I regained my good humour, and my wit
and jokes not only exhilarated my hadji fellows, but even the surliest
son of the desert, and the usual remark of the Turkomans was, "That lame
hadji of Roum (Turkey) is a jolly fellow; he would make a capital
merry-maker."
XX.
IN THE DESERT.
The road we traversed showed no traces of the feet of either men or
camels, and taking for our guides the sun during the day, and the polar
star during the night, we kept our course straight to the north. The
Turkomans call the polar star on account of its immobility Temir Kazik
(iron peg). The camels forming a long line and tied together were led by
men on foot. In this way we jogged along in the sandy soil without any
interruption until late after sunset. The sandy soil gradually ceased
and we felt indeed the solid and smooth ground under our feet. The tramp
of the camels sounded at a distance as if they beat time. The day was
nearly dawning when we stopped, but we had altogether gone but
twenty-four miles; the camels not being allowed to exert themselves in
the beginning, and our progress having been delayed, besides, by the
slowness of the buffaloes, the most distinguished members of our
travelling party, who with their huge bodies were unable to keep pace
with the camels. Our rest lasted from dawn till eight o'clock in the
morning, and whilst the camels were feeding on thistles and brambles of
the desert, we had time to look after our breakfast. We might well call
our breakfast an excellent one, for we had a sufficient quantity of
water wherewith to wash down our unleavened bread. As we were camping
near each other I observed that the kervanbashi, whilst talking with
Ilias and the chiefs of the hadji, had been looking at me pointedly
several times. I could easily guess the tenor of their conversation, but
pretending not to be in the least concerned, I kept on turning the
leaves of the Koran with great devotion for a while; and then, closing
the book, I rose and directed my steps towards the little company as if
to join them. As I was approaching, both the good Ilias and Hadji Salih
hastened to meet me half-way, and calling me aside informed me that the
kervanbashi suspected me and was determined not to take me with him to
Khiva. He was especially afraid of the wrath of the Khan, for he had
brought with him, some years ago, a Frengi envoy to Khiva, who had made
an exact drawing of the entire road, not omitting, owing to his infernal
skill, a single well or hill. The Khan burning with rage at this, had
immediately executed two of the men who had given the traveller
information, and spared the life of the kervanbashi only because of some
very influential protection the latter had succeeded in enlisting in his
favour. "After a good deal of coaxing," my men continued, "we succeeded
in prevailing upon him to take thee with him, on condition that thou
shalt allow thyself to be searched, in the first place, in order to see
if thou dost not carry any drawings or wood pens (lead pencils) with
thee such as the Frengis usually have about them; and in the second
place, that thou shalt promise not to make any secret memoranda of the
roads and mountains; if thou dost not agree to this he will leave thee
behind him in the middle of the desert." I listened to their speech with
the utmost patience, but as soon as they were done I assumed the
appearance of one angrily excited, and turning to Hadji Salih I said in
a voice, loud enough to reach the ears of the kervanbashi: "Hadji, thou
sawest me in Teheran and knowest who I am. Tell Amandurdi that it ill
becometh an honest man like him to listen to the words of a drunken
_binamaz_ (a man who does not say his prayers) like this Afghan. It is
not permitted to trifle with religion, and if he calls me once more
Frengi infidel I shall show him in Khiva what manner of man I am." I
spoke the last words in such a loud key as to be heard by every one in
the caravan, and my dervish companions became so enraged that, if I had
not kept them back, they would have fallen on the spot upon the sottish
opium-eating Afghan who had been trying to excite the kervanbashi's
suspicions against me. Amandurdi more than any other was startled by
this scene, and I heard him replying to every person who came near him
to inquire about the occurrence, "God knows!" He was by no means a bad
man; on the contrary, he was of a kind disposition and very clever; but
like all thoroughbred Orientals he was attracted by anything that looked
mysterious, and it was this tendency that made him suppose me to be a
disguised foreigner, although he never failed to apply to me in
questions of religion, having heard in Gomushtepe of my reputation as a
scholar. I had succeeded this time in warding off the impending danger,
but I felt that the distrust of me was growing apace, and that I should
find it exceedingly difficult to make the slightest memoranda even of my
travels. I could not even directly inquire after the names of the
several stations, and only in a roundabout way, by hook and crook,
could I gain some information about one thing or other and set it down
afterwards, with great secrecy in my notes. I must recall to the mind of
my readers, that the Afghan who set up his mind to cause my ruin, was a
runaway from Kandahar at the time when Sir Henry Rawlinson was in
command of that place. Mir Mohammed, for this was his name, had an
unspeakable hatred against every European, and particularly against the
English; and he, supposing me to belong to that nation, was
indefatigable in his efforts to penetrate my disguise and to denounce me
as a spy, who would speedily be followed by an invading army.
After a short rest we continued our journey, but I observed that after
we had been marching for about two hours, the caravan began to slacken
pace. A couple of Turkomans had dismounted from their camels and seemed
to be carefully investigating right and left the low mounds, a great
number of which could be seen everywhere around us. I was informed that
Eid Mehemmed, one of our fellow-travellers, was trying to discover the
grave of a brother of his, who had fallen hereabouts, last year, in an
attack made upon him, after having heroically defended himself. Eid
Mehemmed had brought a coffin with him in order to take the remains to
Khiva. It might have been two o'clock in the afternoon when the grave
was found and the exhumation begun. After the customary prayers and the
recital of stray verses from the Koran, ceremonies in which I too had to
take part in the most devotional manner, the half-decayed dead body was
wrapped in rags and placed in the coffin. When the funeral ceremonies
were over Eid Mehemmed baked bread on that place and distributed it
among us. We started again, going always north. We had to make up for
lost time, and the order was given by the kervanbashi to march all
night. The weather was fine and, cramped up in my basket, I gazed with
intense delight at the starry firmament, the like of which, for
transcendental beauty, can be seen nowhere but in the desert. But sleep
soon asserted its rights. I had not been asleep an hour when I was
roused by several people shouting at me: "Hadji, look at thy _kiblenuma_
(compass), we seem to have lost our way." I immediately produced my
flint and steel apparatus, and striking sparks with it lit the tinder,
by the smouldering fire of which I perceived that we were going east
instead of north. The kervanbashi was frightened, thinking we had come
near the dangerous marshes, and determined not to move until daybreak.
Fortunately we had left the right track only half an hour before when
the sky was clouded. In spite of the delay we reached in time the
station we were bound for, and turned our tired animals loose to feed
upon thistles and similar pasture.
On the 15th of May our road lay through a wild country, intersected, in
every direction, by ravines. The poor camels had a great deal to suffer.
They are attached to each other in such a manner that one end of the
rope is tied to the tail of the camel in front, and the other end is
fastened at the nose, through a hole perforated for that purpose, of the
camel following it. Now if the poor beast stops from any cause, but for
a minute, those before him are tugging away at his nose, in such an
unmerciful way, that I have often seen the rope broken. To relieve the
poor animals we dismounted several times during our four hours' trudging
through the deep sand.
There were three different roads by which the desert might be crossed,
but we were as yet kept in ignorance as to which of these the
kervanbashi would choose. Owing to the caravan's being liable to be
pounced upon by marauders at any minute, it is quite necessary to
keep the real route a secret. But at the present stage of our journey it
was easy to foretell that we should take the middle road, for our water
was giving out; and the tank of water of which we stood in great need
lay along that route. This night we were favoured by good fortune on our
march, the rope keeping the camels together having broken but twice.
When such a thing happens a couple of men are sent after the animals to
bring them back, the caravan continuing their march. One of the caravan,
however, is selected to keep up a continual conversation with the men
sent out, while they are receding, to prevent their missing their way in
the dark night. The melancholy sound of this man's voice is their only
guide in the pitchlike darkness, and woe to the poor fellows if a
contrary wind hinders them from hearing it. On the 16th of May we
perceived in a north-eastern direction the mountain-chain of _Karendag_,
and reached it on the afternoon of the same day. We had been told in
Etrek that we might look forward to meeting friendly Yomut-Turkomans at
this place, but nevertheless there prevailed a general anxiety on that
subject, the fear of the possibility of being attacked by some hostile
bands being quite as great as the expectation of meeting the former. We
dispatched a brave Turkoman to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. Before
long we caught sight of solitary tents, and, our apprehensions being
dispelled, we asked ourselves what tribe we were to meet. After all they
were Yomuts, and we passed the whole day with them.
[Illustration: A LIGHT FOR THE COMPASS.]
I was agreeably surprised to find near the Karendag Mountains some old
ruins; the fable attaches to them that they are the ruins of Kaaba, God
having from His special love for the Turkomans placed the Kaaba here
first, but that Goklen, a lame blue devil, pulled it down, whereupon God
carried the Kaaba to Mecca. And this was the reason why the Turkomans
lived in constant enmity with and war against the Goklens, who have
descended from Goklen.
The Nomads sojourning in the environs came flocking to see the caravan
and to engage in trade with some of its members. In the evening, we
being ready to start, one of the buffalo cows presented the caravan with
a healthy calf, to the kervanbashi's intense satisfaction. On the road
it occurred to him that the calf was too feeble to follow us on foot,
and that he must find a place for it on the back of one of the camels.
Myself and Hadji Bilal being the only ones occupying a kedsheve he
naturally thought of us, and asked that one of us should give up our
place to the newborn animal. Hadji Bilal resigned his basket with the
utmost readiness, alleging that he did so out of kind feelings for me,
who could not with my lame foot find accommodation everywhere. But no
sooner did my counterpoise occupy the hadji's place than I discovered
the real cause of his great complaisance--the calf was exhaling a
pestiferous smell. It was passable at nights, interfering but
occasionally with my slumbers, but during the day, when the sun shone
out hot, I could hardly bear my sweet-smelling neighbour. Fortunately
for me this agony did not last long, the calf departing this life three
days afterwards.
From the spot where we started on the 18th of May, it was calculated
that the Great Balkan was distant two days' march and Khiva a march of
twelve days. Our guides hoped we should find rain water on the flat
lands. We had last filled our canteens from the miry water of the two
miserable water-tanks of Karendag, and such as it was, it had become,
through being shaken up on the camels' backs, a liquid mass of mud,
loathsome both to the smell and taste. We had, nevertheless, to be
very economical in the use of it, for there was no prospect of obtaining
any water before passing the Great Balkan. Our marching from this time
onwards became more regular. We usually made three stoppages daily, of
one hour and a half, and two hours' duration. The first was before
daybreak, when we would bake one day's ration of bread; the second at
noon, to afford some rest to both animals and men; and the third before
sunset, in order to eat our modest supper, consisting of a little bread
and of a few drops of water carefully doled out. The soil of the country
through which we passed was a hard-baked clay producing scantily and at
intervals a few blades of sickly grass. The blazing sun marked the whole
surface with a thousand burning cracks. It is frightfully wearisome for
the traveller to see before him everlastingly the boundless plain from
which every vestige of life is banished, so much so that even the
reaching of a new station is quite a relief, as it affords some rest
from the rocking motion of the camel.
[Illustration: THE KARENDAG HILLS.]
On the following day, about noon, the Little Balkan Mountains loomed up
before us in the hazy distance. The Turkomans spoke to me in the most
laudatory strain of the extent and size of this mountain chain as well
as of its beauty and wealth in minerals. The kervanbashi, otherwise
always wakeful, feeling oppressed by sleep as the evening set in, left
the caravan under the care of the leader of the camels, who led us into
such danger that we were all near losing our lives. There are at the
foot of the Balkan many salt marshes, covered with a thick white
surface, formed by deposits of salt, which it is difficult to
distinguish from the solid ground. Into one of these the substitute of
the kervanbashi had taken us, and we had already advanced so far that
the animals, owing to the shakiness of the ground under their feet,
refused to go on in spite of all urging. We quickly jumped off our
animals, and my fright may be imagined when upon touching ground I had a
rocking sensation as if seated on a swing, the ground apparently giving
way under my feet. The panic became general. Finally the kervanbashi
called out that every one should remain where he was until sunrise, when
we should be able to extricate ourselves from our perilous position. For
three mortal hours we dared not stir and had to remain motionless in our
places, having besides to suffer from the pungent soda smell, making our
heads dizzy. At length the gray streak in the east assumed the rosy
tints of dawn for which our hearts had been longing. With considerable
trouble and exertion the caravan succeeding in getting out of this miry
pitfall and in retracing their steps to the solid track. Had we advanced
but a little farther into the salt marshes, part of the caravan, if not
the whole, would have been doomed to certain destruction.
On the 20th of May we reached the _Little Balkan_, which stretches from
the south-east to the north-west. We marched on along its foot on that
day and the whole day following. The kervanbashi declared that we had
but just now reached the veritable desert. We soon came to the ancient
bed of the Oxus, and crossing it we entered on the opposite side a high
plateau. By and by the Balkan mountain chain vanished in the blue
distance, and the desert in all its awful grandeur spread before us. Man
is overwhelmed here by the idea of the infinite. The impression produced
by the absence of all sounds, by the very change in the colour and
appearance of the sun, is indescribable. Up to this time I always
thought that the charm of the desert existed chiefly in the heated
imagination of enthusiastic travellers, but I lived to be undeceived in
this my supposition.
We camped near _Yeti Siri_ on the 22nd of May. This place owes its name
to seven wells which stood there in ancient times, and most of which are
now dry. In one or two of them some little water may be found even now,
but it is undrinkable owing to its salty taste and nasty smell. The
kervanbashi comforted us with the hope of finding rain-water towards
evening, but at this moment I was not disposed to exchange the remaining
little water (abundantly mixed as it was with mud) which was left in my
canteen for the ill-smelling contents of the wells. The animals were
watered, and several of the men eagerly competed with them in drinking
from this water. After resting a little we resumed our march and, on our
way, happened to observe, on a sand mound, raised above the smaller
heaps of sand, two empty kedsheves. In the opinion of my
fellow-travellers these wooden baskets had belonged to some persons who
had died on this spot; and the Turkomans hold in veneration every object
once possessed by man. Strange anomaly! to look upon selling men into
slavery and carrying desolation into a country as commendable acts, and
to couple with such views a tender feeling of piety for a wooden
basket--because, forsooth, a man had once sat in it.