for a chappow, or plundering expedition, they will carry their rider and
provisions for seven or eight days together, at the rate of twenty or
even thirty fursungs—that is, from eighty to one hundred miles—a day.
Their mode of training is more like that of our pugilistic and
pedestrian performers, than that adopted for race-horses. When any
expedition of great length, and requiring the exertion of much speed, is
in contemplation, they commence by running their horses every day for
many miles together; they feed them sparingly on barley alone, and pile
numuds upon them at night to sweat them, until every particle of fat has
been removed, and the flesh becomes hard and tendonous. Of this they
judge by the feel of the muscles, particularly on the crest, at the back
of the neck, and on the haunches; and when these are sufficiently firm
and hard, they say in praise of the animal, that “his flesh is marble.”
After this sort of training, the horse will proceed with expedition and
perseverance, for almost any length of time, without either falling off
in condition or knocking up, while horses that set out fat seldom
survive. They are taught a quick walk, a light trot, or a sort of amble,
which carries the rider on easily, at the rate of six miles an hour; but
they will also go at a round canter, or gallop, for forty or fifty
miles, without ever drawing bridle or showing the least symptom of
fatigue. Their _yaboos_, or galloways, and large ponies are fully as
remarkable, if not superior, to their horses, in their power of
sustaining fatigue; they are stout, compact, spirited beasts, without
the fine blood of the larger breeds, but more within the reach of the
poorer classes, and consequently used in by far greater numbers than the
superior and more expensive horses.
“It is a common practice of the Turcomans, to teach their horses to
fight with their heels, and thus assist their masters in the time of
action. At the will of their riders they will run at and lay hold with
their teeth of whatever man or animal may be before them. This
acquirement is useful in the day of battle and plunder, for catching
prisoners and stray cattle, but it at the same time renders them vicious
and dangerous to be handled.”
In addition to the flocks and herds, the Turcomans possess a breed of
very large fierce dogs, to assist them in keeping their cattle. These
are also necessary as watch-dogs, to protect the camp from thieves as
well as more dangerous enemies to their peace; and so well trained are
those faithful creatures, that it would be impossible for either friend
or enemy to approach a Turcoman camp without the inmates being
forewarned in time. Two or three of these dogs may always be seen lying
by the entrance of each tent; and throughout the night several others
keep sentry at the approaches to the camp.
Other breeds of dogs owned by them are used for hunting,—for these wild
wanderers sometimes devote their hours to the chase. They have two
sorts,—a smooth-skinned dog, half hound half pointer, that hunts chiefly
by the scent; and a greyhound, of great swiftness, with a coat of long,
silky hair, which they make use of in coursing,—hares and antelopes
being their game.
They have a mode of hunting—also practised by the Persians—which is
peculiar. It should rather be termed hawking than hunting, as a hawk is
employed for the purpose. It is a species of falcon denominated “goork,”
and is trained not only to dash at small game, such as partridges and
bustards, but upon antelopes and even the wild ass that is found in
plenty upon the plains of Turcomania. You will wonder how a bird, not
larger than the common falcon, could capture such game as this; but it
will appear simple enough when the method has been explained. The
“goork” is trained to fly at the quadruped, and fix its claws in one
particular place,—that is, upon the frontlet, just between the eyes.
When thus attached, the bird, instead of closing its wings and remaining
at rest, keeps them constantly in motion, flapping them over the eyes of
the quadruped. This it does, no doubt, to enable it to retain its perch;
while the unfortunate animal, thus assailed, knows not in what direction
to run, and is soon overtaken by the pursuing sportsmen, and either
speared or shot with the bow and arrow.
Wild boars are frequently hunted by the Turcomans and this, like
everything else with these rude centaurs, is performed on horseback. The
bow and arrow is but a poor weapon when employed against the thick,
tough hide of the Hyrcanian boar (for he is literally the Hyrcanian
boar), and of course the matchlock would be equally ineffective. How,
then, does the Turcoman sportsman manage to bag this bristly game? With
all the ease in the world. It costs him only the effort of galloping his
horse close up to the side of the boar after he has been brought to by
the dogs, and then suddenly wheeling the steed. The latter, well trained
to the task, without further prompting, goes through the rest of the
performance, which consists in administering to the boar such a slap
with his iron-shod heel, as to prostrate the porcine quadruped, often
killing it on the instant!
Such employments and such diversions occupy only a small portion of the
Turcoman’s time. He follows another calling of a far less creditable
character, which unfortunately he regards as the most honorable
occupation of his life. This is the calling of the robber. His pastoral
pursuits are matters of only secondary consideration. He only looks to
them as a means of supplying his daily wants,—his food and the more
necessary portion of his clothing; but he has other wants that may be
deemed luxuries. He requires to keep up his stock of horses and camels,
and wishes to increase them. He needs costly gear for his horse, and
costly garments for himself,—and he is desirous of being possessed of
fine weapons, such as spears, swords, bows, matchlocks, daggers, and
pistols. His most effective weapons are the spear and sword, and these
are the kinds he chiefly uses.
His spear consists of a steel head with four flutes, and edges very
sharp, fixed upon a slender shaft of from eight to ten feet in length.
In using it he couches it under the left arm, and directs it with the
right hand, either straightforward, or to the right or left; if to the
right, the butt of the shaft lies across the hinder part of the saddle;
if to the left, the forepart of the spear rests on the horse’s neck. The
Turcomans manage their horses with the left hand, but most of these are
so well broken as to obey the movement of the knee, or the impulse of
the body. When close to their object, they frequently grasp the spear
with both hands, to give greater effect to the thrust. The horse,
spurred to the full speed of a charge, in this way, offers an attack no
doubt very formidable in appearance, but perhaps less really dangerous
than the other, in which success depends so greatly on skill and
address. The Turcomans are all sufficiently dexterous with the sword,
which is almost universally formed in the curved Persian fashion, and
very sharp; they also wear a dagger at the waist-belt. Firearms are as
yet little in use among them; they possess a few, taken from the
travellers they have plundered, and procure a few more occasionally from
the Russians by the way of Bokara. Some use bows and arrows, but they
are by no means so dexterous as their ancestors were in the handling of
those weapons.
Mounted, then, upon his matchless steed, and armed with spear and sword,
the Turcoman goes forth to practise his favorite profession,—that of
plunder. He does not go alone, nor with a small number of his comrades,
either. The number depends altogether on the distance or danger of the
expedition; and where these are considered great, a troop of five
hundred, or even a thousand, usually proceed together upon their errand.
You will be inquiring to what point they direct themselves,—east, west,
north, or south? That altogether depends upon who may be their enemies
for the time, for along with their desire for booty, there is also mixed
up something like a sentiment of hostility. In this respect, however,
the Turcoman is a true Ishmaelite, and in lack of other victim he will
not hesitate to plunder the people of a kindred race. Indeed, several of
the Turcoman tribes have long been at war with one another; and their
animosity is quite as deadly among themselves as when directed against
strangers to their race. The _butt_, however, of most of the Turcoman
expeditions is the northern part of Persia,—Korassan in particular. It
is into this province that most of their great forays are directed,
either against the peaceful citizens of the Persian towns and villages,
or as often against the merchant caravans that are constantly passing
between Teheran and the cities of the east,—Mushed, Balkh, Bokara,
Herat, and Kelat. I have already stated that these forays are pushed far
into the interior of Persia; and the fact of Persia permitting such a
state of things to continue will perhaps surprise you; but you would not
be surprised were you better acquainted with the condition of that
kingdom. From historic associations, you believe Persia to be a powerful
nation; and so it once was, both powerful and prosperous. That day is
past, and at the present hour, this decaying monarchy is not only
powerless to maintain order within its own borders, but is even
threatened with annihilation from those very nomad races that have so
often given laws to the great empires of Asia. Even at this moment, the
more powerful Tartar Khans turn a longing look towards the tottering
throne of Nadir Shah; and he of Khiva has more than once made a feint at
invasion. But the subject is too extensive to be discussed here. It is
only introduced to explain with what facility a few hundreds of Turcoman
robbers can enter and harass the land. We find a parallel in many other
parts of the world,—old as well as new. In the latter, the northern
provinces of Mexico, and the southern countries of La Plata and
Paraguay, are in just such a condition: the weak, worn-out descendants
of the Spanish conquerors on one side, well representing the remnants of
the race of Nadir Shah; while, on the other, the Turcoman is type enough
of the Red Indian. The comparison, however, is not just to the latter.
He, at least, is possessed of courage and prowess; while the Turcoman,
notwithstanding his propensities for plunder, and the bloodthirsty
ferocity of his character, is as arrant a coward as ever carried lance.
Even the Persian can cope with him, when fairly matched; and the
merchant-caravans,—which are usually made up of true Turks, and other
races possessing a little “pluck,” are never attacked, unless when
outnumbered in the ratio of three to one.
For all this, the whole northern portion of the Persian kingdom is left
to the mercy of these desert-robbers. The towns and villages have each
their large fortress, into which the people retire whenever the
plunderers make their appearance, and there dwell till the latter have
ridden away,—driving off their flocks and herds to the desert
fastnesses. Even the poor farmer is obliged to build a fortress in the
middle of his fields, to which he may retire upon the occasion of any
sudden alarm, and his laborers till the ground with their swords by
their sides, and their matchlocks lying near!
These field fortresses of Korassan are altogether so curious, both as to
construction and purpose, that we cannot pass them without a word of
description. They are usually placed in some conspicuous place, at a
convenient distance from all parts of the cultivated tract. They are
built of mud, and raised to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, of a
circular form,—bearing some resemblance to the well-known round towers
of Ireland. A small aperture is left open at the bottom, through which
those seeking shelter may just squeeze their bodies, and this being
barricaded inside, the defence is complete. From the top—which can be
reached easily on the inside—the farmer and his laborers can use their
matchlocks with effect; but they are never called upon to do so,—as the
cowardly freebooter takes good care to give the mud tower a wide birth.
He has no weapons by which he might assail it; and, moreover, he has no
time for sieges: since an hour’s delay might bring him into danger from
the force that is fast approaching. His only thought is to keep on his
course, and sweep off such cattle, or make prisoners of such people as
he may chance to find unwarned and unarmed. Now and then he ventures
upon an attack—where there is much booty to tempt him, and but a weak
force to defend it. His enemies,—the hated “Kuzzilbashes,” as he calls
the Persians,—if defeated, have no mercy to expect from him. All who
resist are killed upon the spot, and often torture is the mode of their
death; but if they can be made prisoners, the desert-robber prefers
letting them live, as a captive is to him a more valuable consideration
than the death of an enemy. His prisoner, once secured, knows tolerably
well what is to follow. The first thing the Turcoman does is to bind the
victim’s hands securely behind his back; he then puts a long halter
around his neck, attaching the other end of it to the tail of his horse,
and in this fashion the homeward march commences. If the poor pedestrian
does not keep pace with the horse, he knows what he may expect,—to be
dragged at intervals along the ground, and perhaps torn to pieces upon
the rocks. With this horrid fate before his fancy, he makes efforts
almost superhuman to keep pace with the troop of his inhuman captors:
though well aware that they are leading him off into a hopeless bondage.
At night, his feet are also tied; and, thrown down upon the earth, he is
covered with a coarse “numud.” Do not fancy that this is done to screen
him from the cold: the object is very different indeed. The numud is
placed over him in order that two of his captors may sleep upon its
edges—one on each side of him—thus holding him down, and frustrating any
chance of escape.
On arriving at the robber-camp, the captive is not kept long in suspense
as to his future fate. His owner—for he is now in reality a slave—wants
a new sword, or a piece of silken cloth, or a camel, or some other
article of luxury. That he can obtain either at Khiva or Bokara, in
exchange for his slave; and therefore the new captive—or captives, as
the chance may be—is marched off to the ready market. This is no
isolated nor rare incident. It is one of every-day occurrence; and it is
a noted fact, that of the three hundred thousand people who constitute
the subjects of the Khivan Khan, nearly one half are Persian slaves
obtained from the robbers of Turcomania!
The political organization of the Turcomans is of the patriarchal
character. From necessity they dwell in small communities that are
termed “teers,” the literal signification of which is “arrows,”—though
for what reason they are so styled does not appear. Perhaps it is on
account of the rapidity of their movements: for, in hostile excursions,
or moving from place to place, they proceed with a celerity that may be
compared to arrows.
Over each tribe or teer there is a chief, similar to the “sheik” of the
Arab tribes,—and indeed, many of their customs offer a close analogy to
those of the wandering Bedouins of Arabia and Egypt, and the Kabyles of
Morocco and the Algerine provinces. The circumstances of life—almost
alike to both—could not fail to produce many striking resemblances.
The Turcoman tribes, as already observed, frequently go to war with each
other, but they oftener unite to rob the common enemy,—the caravan or
the Persian village. In these mere plundering expeditions they go in
such numbers as the case may require; but when called forth to take side
in anything like a national war, they can muster to the strength of many
thousands; and then indeed, they become terrible,—even to the most
potent sovereigns of Central Asia, by whom much diplomacy is employed to
enlist them on one side or the other. It matters little to them what the
cause be,—he who can promise them the largest booty in cattle or slaves
is sure to have the help of their spears and swords.
The Turcomans are not Pagans,—that is, they are not professedly
so,—though, for all the regard which they pay to religious observances,
they might as well be termed true Infidels. They profess a religion,
however, and that is Mohametanism in its worst and most bigoted
form,—the “Sunnite.” The Persians, as is well known, hold the milder
Sheean doctrines; and as the votaries of the two, in most countries
where both are practised, cordially hate each other, so it is between
Turcomans and Persians. The former even scorn the Persian creed, calling
its followers “Infidel” dogs, or _Kuzzilbashes_; and this bigoted rancor
gives them a sort of plausible excuse for the hostile attitude which
they hold towards them.
Taking them upon the whole, the Turcomans may be looked upon as true
savages,—savages dressed in _silk_ instead of in _skins_.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE OTTOMACS, OR DIRT-EATERS
On the banks of the Orinoco, a short distance above the point where that
mighty river makes its second great sweep to the eastward, dwells a
remarkable people,—a tribe of savages that, even among savages, are
remarkable for many peculiar and singular customs. These are the
_Ottomacs_.
They have been long known,—and by the narratives of the early Spanish
missionaries, rendered notorious,—on account of some curious habits; but
although the missionaries have resided among them, and endeavored to
bring them within “sound of the bell,” their efforts have met with a
very partial and temporary success; and at this present hour, the
Ottomacs are as savage in their habits, and as singular in their
customs, as they were in the days of Columbus.
The Ottomacs are neither a stunted nor yet a weak race of men. Their
bodies are strong, and their arms and limbs stout and muscular; but they
are remarkably ill-featured, with an expression of countenance
habitually stern and vindictive.
Their costume is easily described, or rather cannot be described at all,
since they have _none_. Both sexes go entirely naked,—if we except a
little belt of three or four inches in width, made from cotton or the
bark of trees, and called the _guayuco_, which they wear around the
waist,—but even this is worn from no motives of modesty.
What they regard in the light of a costume is a coat of paint, and about
this they are as nice and particular as a Parisian dandy. Talk about
“blooming up” a faded _belle_ for the ball-room, or the time spent by an
exquisite in adjusting the tie of his cravat! these are trifles when
compared with the lengthy and elaborate toilette of an Ottomac lady or
gentleman.
The greater part of a day is often spent by them in a single dressing,
with one or two helpers to assist in the operation; and this is not a
_tattooing_ process, intended to last for a lifetime, but a costume
certain to be disfigured, or entirely washed off, at the first
exposure to a heavy shower of rain. Add to this, that the pigments
which are used for the purpose are by no means easily obtained: the
vegetable substances which furnish them are scarce in the Ottomac
country; and it costs one of these Indians the produce of several days
of his labor to purchase sufficient paint to give his whole skin a
single “coat.” For this reason the Ottomac paints his body only on
grand occasions,—contenting himself at ordinary times with merely
staining his face and hair.
When an Ottomac wishes to appear in “full dress” he first gives himself
a “priming” of red. This consists of the dye called “annotto,” which is
obtained from the fruit pulp of the _Bixa orellana_, and which the
Indians knew how to prepare previous to their intercourse with
Europeans. Over this red ground is then formed a lattice-work of lines
of black, with a dot in the centre of every little square or diamond.
The black dye is the “caruto,” also a vegetable pigment, obtained from
the _Genipa Americana_. If the gentleman be rich enough to possess a
little “chica” which is a beautiful lake-colored red,—also the produce
of a plant,—the _Bignoni chica_, he will then feel all the ecstatic
delight of a fashionable dandy who possesses a good wardrobe; and, with
half a pound of turtle-oil rubbed into his long black tresses, he will
regard himself as dressed “within an inch of his life.” It is not
always, however, that he can afford the _chica_,—for it is one of the
costliest materials of which a South-American savage can manufacture his
suit.
The Ottomac takes far less trouble in the building of his house. Very
often he builds none; but when he wishes to guard his body from the rays
of the sun, or the periodical rains, he constructs him a slight
edifice—a mere hut—out of saplings or bamboos, with a thatch of
palm-leaves.
His arms consist of the universal bow and arrows, which he manages with
much dexterity; and he has also a harpoon which he employs in killing
the manatee and the alligator. He has, besides, several other weapons,
to aid him in the chase and fishing,—the latter of which forms his
principal employment as well as his chief source of subsistence.
The Ottomac belongs to one of those tribes of Indians termed by the
Spanish missionaries _Indios andantes_, that is “wandering,” or
“vagabond Indians,” who instead of remaining in fixed and permanent
villages, roam about from place to place, as necessity or inclination
dictates. Perhaps this arises from the peculiarity of the country which
they inhabit: for the _Indios andantes_ do not live in the thick
forests, but upon vast treeless savannas, which stretch along the
Orinoco above its great bend. In these tracts the “juvia” trees
(_bertholletia_ and _lecythys_), which produce the delicious
“Brazil-nuts”—and other plants that supply the savage spontaneously with
food, are sparsely found; and as the savannas are annually inundated for
several months, the Ottomac is forced, whether he will or no, to shift
his quarters and try for subsistence elsewhere. When the inundations
have subsided and the waters become settled enough to permit of fishing,
the Ottomac “winter” is over, and he can obtain food in plenty from the
alligators, the manatees, the turtles, the _toninas_ or dolphins, and
other large fish that frequent the great stream upon which he dwells. Of
these the _manatee_ is the most important in the eyes of the Ottomac—as
it is the largest in size, and consequently furnishes him with the
greatest amount of meat.
This singular semi-cetaceous creature is almost too well known to
require description. It is found in nearly all the large rivers of
tropical America, where it feeds upon the grass and aquatic plants
growing along their banks. It is known by various names, according to
the place and people. The Spaniards call it _vaca marina_, or “sea-cow,”
and the Portuguese _peixe boi_, or “fish-ox,”—both being appellations
equally inappropriate, and having their origin in a slight resemblance
which there exists between the animal’s “countenance” and that of an ox.
The West-Indian name is the one we have given, though the true
orthography is _manati_, not _manatee_, since the word is of Indian
origin. Some writers deny this, alleging that it is a derivative from
the Spanish word “mano,” a hand, signifying, therefore, the fish with
hands,—in allusion to the rudimentary hands which form one of its
distinguishing characteristics. This is the account of the historian
Oviedo, but another Spanish missionary, Father Gili, offers a more
correct explanation of the name,—in fact, he proves, what is neither
more nor less than the simple truth, that “manati” was the name given to
this animal by the natives of Hayti and Cuba,—where a species is also
found,—and the word has no reference whatever to the “hands” of the
creature. The resemblance to the Spanish word which should signify
“handed,” is merely an accidental circumstance; and, as the acute
Humboldt very justly remarks, according to the genius of the Spanish
language, the word thus applied would have been written _manudo_, or
_manon_, and not _manati_.