Sadek's wastefulness--Meeting two enterprising English
traders--Another circular crater--Wind and electricity in the
air--Their effects--A fortress--Soldiers and
brigandage--Zemahlabad--Windmills--Bandan--Ancient
tombs--Picturesque women--Lost our way--A welcome
messenger--Nasirabad--"Ruski" or "Inglis"--Several miles of
villages and houses--English maps and foreign names--Greeted by
Major Benn.
We intended continuing our journey after dinner. This camp being well
screened on all sides, Sadek gave way to his ambition to have the camp
lighted up by a number of candles, with which he was always most
wasteful. He had two candles alight where he was doing his cooking, I had
two more to do my writing by, Abbas Ali had also two to do nothing by.
Luckily, there was not a breath of wind to disturb the illumination.
Towards nine o'clock we heard noises of camels' and horses' hoofs
stumbling against the rocks down the gorge, and my ears caught the
welcome sound of English voices.
"What can all those lights be?" said one.
"They look like candles," replied the other.
"They _are_ candles!" I intervened. "Will you not get off your horses and
have some dinner with me by the light of them?"
"Who in the world is that?" queried one of the riders of the other,
evidently taken aback at being addressed in English in such a queer place
and at such a time of the night.
"My name is Henry Savage Landor."
"What? not Tibet Landor? Our names are Clemenson and Marsh--but what in
the world are you doing here? Have you not some companions?"
"Yes, I have. Here they are: three Persian kittens!"
As Mr. Clemenson had some big dogs with him, the moment the cats were let
out of the box to be introduced there was a chase, but the kittens
climbed in due haste up the side of the cliff and left the disappointed
dogs below to bark. On this high point of vantage they squatted down and
watched our proceedings below with the greatest interest.
It was a real delight to meet countrymen of one's own after so many weeks
of loneliness. These two enterprising English traders had brought over a
very large caravan from Quetta, and were on their way to Meshed, having
done good business in Sistan. They had with them every possible article
they could think of, from tea to phonographs, lamps, razors, music boxes,
magic lanterns, bedsteads, cottons, silks, cloths, chairs, glass-ware,
clocks, watches, and I do not know what else. I believe that it was the
largest caravan of that kind that had ever come over to Persia from
Beluchistan.
After a pleasant interview of an hour or so, and what humble
refreshments I could offer, they were compelled to continue their journey
to the north. The kittens, having anxiously watched the departure of Mr.
Clemenson's dogs, leapt back from rock to rock and down on to my carpet,
all three sitting as usual in a row in front of my plate while I was
having my dinner, with their greedy eyes on the meat, and occasionally
also one of their paws.
We did not make a start till 2.30 a.m., when there was moonlight, as the
way was very bad among stones and boulders. For a short distance we
travelled between high cliffs and boulders, then between low hills much
further apart. On our left we came to a most peculiar formation of rock
which seemed almost like a castle, and from this point we got into a long
and wide plain, most uninteresting and swarming with a troublesome kind
of small fly.
A rugged mountain to the north, being higher and more vividly coloured
than the rest, attracted the eye, as one tried hard to find something to
admire in the scenery; and to the south-west we saw the back view of the
flat-topped plateau we had skirted the day before. To the S.S.W. lay
another flat-topped high mountain like the section of a cone which we had
noticed on our previous march.
We were now marching due east, and after some sixteen miles' journey from
our last camp we again entered a hilly portion of country. We made a halt
of three hours, from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m., to have our breakfast. Then we
entered the hills by one of the usual dry channels formed by the water
washing down with great force in rainy weather from the hillsides. After
half a mile we emerged again into another plain, three miles long and
about equally wide, with very broken, low rocky mountains to the east,
and low sand hills to the south. To the south-east, in the direction we
were following, stood a massive-looking mountain, which, however,
possessed no very beautiful lines.
More interesting and quaint was the circular crater in a conical mountain
to the north-east of the long dreary plain we were now traversing. The
mouth of this large crater was much lower on the south-west side than on
the north-east, thus exposing to the full view of the traveller the
entire opening in the centre of the mountain, reddish-brown in colour.
Having gone some twelve miles more, we stopped, at four in the afternoon,
in a bitterly penetrating cold wind, which seemed to have a most
uncomfortable effect upon one's nervous system. Whether it was that the
intense dryness caused an excess of electricity, or what, I do not know,
but one ached all over in a frightful manner, and experienced the same
tendon-contracting feeling as when exposed to an electric current.
One farsakh before reaching camp we had passed the camping ground of
Angiloh, where a tiny drip of fresh water exists. We happily found here a
quantity of wood, abandoned by the Clemenson caravan, which we put on
our camels and carried further down into the plain, where, having found
a depression in the ground affording some shelter from the fearful wind,
we halted to wait until the moon rose.
My fever seized me violently on that night, and I experienced intense
pain in my spine, my legs and arms, more especially in places where I had
received wounds on previous journeys.
We left again in the middle of the night at 3 a.m., and a great effort it
was, too, to get out of one's warm blankets and scramble on the camel,
aching as I was all over, and with the indescribable exhaustion that
fever of the desert brings on. Luckily, with the rising of the moon, the
wind had somewhat abated, but the electricity in the air was as
unpleasant as it was extraordinary. One was absolutely saturated with it,
and discharged sparks from one's finger-tips when one touched anything
that was a good conductor.
In the morning at the foot of the mountains we passed a large fortress
where, they told me, twenty soldiers had been stationed the previous year
in order to suppress brigandage that had been rampant here. Both Afghan
and Sistan robbers seemed to be most partial to this spot, probably
because it is that at which all the caravans from Birjand and Meshed
converge on their way to Sistan.
We actually perceived some trees in the distance, and at last we arrived
at Zemahlabad, a quadrangular fort, with two such peculiar structures at
the sides that I really could not at first guess what they were. Sadek,
called upon to explain, was no wiser, and we had to find a solution to
our speculation from one of the local authorities. They were windmills,
and most ingenious and simple they were, too, when once one had grasped
the mechanism of them. Only in their case the large opening to the east
and west, to let in and out the wind, had been screened with elaborate
wood-work, and it was not easy to understand the principle of the device
until one visited the interior. We shall come later in our journey to
some quite superior ones, which I will endeavour to describe.
There were many palm trees at this place and some few patches of
vegetation. A great many mat-sheds had been erected, and hundreds of cows
were to be seen; the land, being marshy, provided fair pasturages.
(Altitude 2,700 ft.)
To the extreme east of the long valley we had traversed the Bandan
mountains, converged into an acute angle with those on the opposite side
of the valley, and on the north-east side we had again the same formation
of rock in horizontal strata with some contortions at its western end. A
salt stream flowed here through a narrow gorge, between the picturesque,
wall-like barrier to the north and the handsome hills to the south-west.
A great number of palm trees gave quite a tropical appearance to this
gorge, although the whitish sand mixed with salt impressed one like dirty
snow, and the sky was also whitish and promising real snow. It was none
too hot--thermometer 34°.
Just before reaching Bandan--also called Darban by some natives (2,870
ft.)--we noticed on the precipitous slopes of the mountain to the
south-west several buildings in ruins, said to be ancient tombs. They
were domed. At the foot of the mountain were the remains of a village.
Bandan consisted of a quadrangular walled village with five high towers
and two more partly collapsed. The lower part of the village wall--a
regular fortress--was of stone and mud, the upper portion of sun-dried
mud bricks. It appeared to have been built at different epochs, the
south-west half especially seeming more modern than the north-east
portion. Holes about three feet above the ground in the wall served the
purpose of windows to the houses adjoining the wall inside the castle,
and a stone of suitable size shoved into the aperture was the shutter.
The village wall had two entrances on the south-east side, where outside
the wall could be seen fifteen small domed ovens, of the usual Persian
type, for baking bread, the paste of which is plastered on the inside of
the dome when sufficiently heated.
The highest tower was on the south-west side, and all of these structures
had a foundation of stone, but the remainder was of mud.
We saw here a string of picturesque women. They were carrying loads of
wood and heavy bags of wheat on their heads. On perceiving me
unexpectedly they tried to run away, and did so, but not before I had got
the good snapshot of them here reproduced. It can be seen by this
photograph what long steps these women took, and how those that carried
heavier loads swung their arms about to diminish the effort and balance
themselves. They walked with a good deal of spring in their knees.
These women had much stronger features than the Persian generally have,
and resembled--in fact, were practically--Afghan women. One or two only
had the Hindoo type, with large, soft, drooping eyes, large hook noses,
and over-developed lips, with small receding chins. The younger ones were
strikingly handsome.
On our last march we had come from north to south, but now, after a short
halt, we went on towards the south-east on what we thought would be our
last two marches before reaching Sher-i-Nasrya, the capital city of
Sistan, only some sixty miles off. Soon after leaving Bandan we found
ourselves in an open plain with gradually vanishing mountains to the
south-west. To the north-east the wall-like barrier, about one mile from
Bandan, suddenly ceased in a gentle slope. East and E.S.E., now that the
plain became of immense breadth, one could see two isolated low hill
ranges, barring which, in the arc of a circle between north-east and
south, we had nothing before us except a flat, dreary stretch of sand and
stones meeting the sky on the horizon line.
On getting nearer the Hamun-i-Halmund (swamp), formed by the Halmund
river and others losing themselves into the sand and flooding part of
that region, the whole country was covered with high reeds and small
water channels, which constantly made us deviate from our course. In the
middle of the night we got so mixed up that we were unable to go on. It
is most dangerous to make camels get into water channels, especially if
muddy, without being certain of their depth. The brutes, if sinking, are
seized with panic and collapse, or, in trying to get out quickly, often
slip sideways and get split in two, which necessitates their being
killed.
In the morning we passed two Cossacks from the Sistan Consulate escort,
who, having been relieved, were now on their way back to Russia. They
gave us a hearty greeting, and shortly after a messenger from the British
Consul in Sistan handed me a letter, a most kind invitation from Major
Benn to go and stay with him at the Consulate.
Towards noon we reached Nasirabad (altitude 2,050 ft.), a very old
village founded by one Malik Nasir Khan Kayani--the _Kayani_, as is well
known, being the former rulers of Sistan, and every big _Kayani_ being
called "Malik." We stopped for a couple of hours for lunch, the principal
house in the village being vacated by the courteous inmates for my use.
The arrival of a _ferenghi_ excited considerable attention, and numerous
and anxious inquiries were made whether I was a "Ruski" or "Inglis." On
learning that I was "Inglis," they expressed their unsolicited conviction
that all Inglis were good people and Ruski all bad, and no doubt if I
had been a Ruski the reverse conviction would have been expressed with
similar eagerness.
The natives were polite, but extremely noisy, shouting and yelling at the
top of their voices when they spoke. The men wore large white turbans
over their white skull caps, long blue shirts, opened and buttoned on the
left side, reaching to below their knees, and the enormous Afghan
trousers.
From Nasirabad we came across a long uninterrupted row of ruined villages
and towns, stretching in a line for some eight miles from north to south.
The most northern one had the appearance of a fortress with a very high
wall, still in fair preservation, and several more of these fortresses
were to be seen along the line of houses, the majority of dwellings being
outside these forts. The domed houses--some of which were in perfect
preservation--showed the identical architecture and characteristics of
Persian houses of to-day.
We were benighted again. Curiously enough, even within a mile or so from
Sher-i-Nasrya, on asking some natives where the city of _Nasirabad_ or
_Nasratabad_, as it is marked in capital letters on English maps (even
those of the Indian Trigonometrical Survey), nobody could tell me, and
everybody protested that no such city existed. (The real name of it,
Sher-i-Nasrya, of course, I only learnt later.)
This was puzzling, but not astonishing, for there is a deal of fancy
nomenclature on English maps.
Eventually, when I had almost despaired of reaching the place that night,
although I could not have been more than a stone-throw from it, I
appealed to another passer-by, riding briskly on a donkey.
"How far are we from Nasratabad?"
"Never heard the name."
"Is there a town here called Nasirabad?"
"No, there is no such town--but you must have come through a small
village by that name, two farsakhs off."
"Yes, I have. Do you happen to know where the English Consulate is?"
"Oh, yes, everybody knows the English Consulate. I will take you there.
It is only a short distance from here, near the city of Sher-i-Nasrya!"
Thanks to this fellow, a few minutes later I found myself greeted most
effusively by Major and Mrs. Benn in their charming mud Consulate. This
was on the evening of December 6th.