On the right bank extends for more than three leagues, from the above-mentioned ruins down to the water's edge, a somewhat dense forest (togay), called Khitabegi. The trees are not particularly high, but the sun is nevertheless unable to penetrate and dry up the marshes fed by the Oxus. Only in very few places is the forest inhabited, and that by the Karakalpak tribe, who rear cattle. The left bank is the really inhabited part; here the chain of Havlis is scarcely interrupted, and here and there villages of some size are seen lying close to the water, such as the Œzbeg village Tashkale, which is situated on a high bank, and the smaller village of Vezir, near which the canal Kilidjbay discharges, or rather forms a basin, previous to losing itself beyond Yilali in the sand.
To make tea, prepare palau, and either listen to or tell sacred legends, was the alternate occupation of the day. Sometimes it happened that all my companions, the steersmen alone excepted, fell fast asleep, producing a pause, which was to me a most pleasant change; and as I fixed my eyes upon the yellow, turbid waters of the ancient Oxus, my imagination loved to revert to the clear mirror of many a European river, whose waters are ploughed by hundreds of ships, and whose verdant, smiling banks, are full of life and activity. What a gigantic contrast!
The Oxus is the typical representative of the country it traverses,—wild and unruly in its course, like the temperament of the Central Asiatics. Its shallows are as little marked as the good and bad qualities in the Turkoman; daily it makes for itself new channels similar to the nomad, whose restless spirit, wearied of staying long in one spot, is ever craving for novelty and change.
Early the second day we passed the town of Görlen at a short distance from the shore. The proper landing place is a village near, called Ishimdji, and opposite to it on the right bank is situated the fort Rehimberdi Beg, which I mention merely because here begins the mountain chain of Oveis Karayne, extending from south-east to north.[12] At first sight it bears much resemblance, as well in height as in its formation, to the Great Balkan in the desert, between Khiva and Astrabad; but on a nearer approach its larger circumference soon becomes apparent, and the luxuriant vegetation and the woods with which several of its heights are clothed, present a scene of agreeable surprise. On one of them is said to be the tomb of Oveis Karayne, a celebrated place of pilgrimage in Khiva, and in the distance we discovered several buildings, which Rehimberdi Beg had erected for the convenience of the devotees. Further on is the Munadjat daghi (mount of devotion), which is pointed out as the resting place of a holy lady, called Amberene (Mother Ambra). Holy women are not often met with in Sunnitic Islamism; there are, however, a few of them in Central Asia, which may be taken as a fresh proof that Islamism does not treat the fair sex with such unnatural harshness as people in Europe are apt to imagine. As to my lady Amberene, tradition tells us that, a Zuleikha in beauty, a Fatima in virtue, she was hated and afterwards expelled by her husband, solely because she professed the Mohammedan religion, of which he was an arch-enemy. Driven from her princely abode in Urgendj, she was obliged to take refuge in this wild spot, and would have died of starvation but for a hind which appeared daily at the entrance of her cave, waiting to be milked, and then again disappeared. Who, in hearing this tale, is not reminded of the story of Genoveva? The Parisians in those days were not better than the Œzbegs of to-day; nor can we fail to be struck with the identity that exists in fables of social and religious life, among nations living widely separated from each other.
After leaving Görlen we went on for about four hours down stream, and came to Yengï yap, an insignificant hamlet, surrounded by earth walls, and about one hour and a half distant from the river. Two hours later we reached the district of Khitayi, which begins where the Yumalak, a conical hill, rises close to the left bank. On the right the Oveis mountains approach nearer and nearer to the Oxus, and soon we passed the prominent peak Yampuk, crowned with the ruins of an old castle. Opposite Yumalak the mountain chain, Sheik Djeli, which runs from east to west, forms a very narrow channel (here called kisnak), much narrower than the Iron Gates on the Danube, and often dangerous to navigation from the force and rapidity of the current. The waters here roar, as if the Oxus, that unruly son of the desert, were angry at being so imprisoned between the rocks. The narrowest part is, however, very short; on the left bank the mountains terminate abruptly, while on the right bank the high lands gradually slope, and after having passed Tama, which lies on the left, the country is everywhere flat. With the mountains disappeared every romantic feature along the banks of the Oxus. After a voyage of two days our eyes and imagination were fully satisfied, and although the morning and evening hours had their charms, yet the heat became intolerable in the day-time, and the mosquitoes and flies at night—insects, in comparison with which the Golumbacz on the Lower Danube are harmless and insignificant as butterflies. As soon as the sun began to set, every one crept carefully under the mosquito-net, made, of course, of linen, the air under which had become so thoroughly poisoned by my fellow-travellers, that I felt keenly not to be able to exchange it for the purer air outside. Towards evening we reached the district of Mangit, which has a town of the same name, about two hours' distance from the river, but not visible from the boat on account of a small wood which intervenes. Here we remained for some time moored along the bank, and having comfortably cooked our dinner in the open air, instead of on the narrow hearth in the boat, we continued our voyage. We reached Basuyap, after another hour's journey, at night, much to the regret of my friend, who had been anxious to pay a visit with me to a very celebrated Nogaï Ishan, who resided there, in order to ask his advice and blessing on the journey he had undertaken. These Nogaï, who fled hither to escape the Russian authorities or the conscription, are in Central Asia regarded as martyrs to freedom and Islamism, and revered as such; but I have frequently met among them the most consummate rascals, and thought that they had probably run away from a fully merited chastisement.
Early in the morning we passed Kiptchak, which is the second stage on the journey, and lies on both sides of the Oxus. At this place a rock rises from the water, which, extending across the river, narrows the channel by more than half its width, and renders the navigation so extremely dangerous, that it is never attempted, except at broad daylight. At low water some of the points are visible, and it is no uncommon thing to see children, a foot deep in water, clambering upon them.
Kiptchak itself is a place of considerable importance, inhabited by an Œzbeg tribe of the same name, and possesses several mosques and colleges. Of the latter, the college situated on the right bank of the river was founded by Khodja Niaz, and is deservedly celebrated for its rich endowments. Not far from this building, which stands separately, is seen the ruin Tchilpik, on a hill rising close to the water. Tradition asserts that in ancient times it was a strong castle, and the residence of a Princess, who, having fallen in love with one of her father's slaves, and dreading the anger of her offended parent, fled hither for refuge with her lover. In order to obtain water, they were obliged to pierce the hill downwards to the river, and the subterranean passage exists at the present day.
From Kiptshak up the stream begins the forest already mentioned, which extends with few interruptions along the right bank of the river to some distance beyond Kungrat. I could not see from the boat how far its breadth stretched eastward, but I have been assured that it is from eight to ten hours' journey. Its approach from the river is intercepted by bogs and morasses, which render it only in a few places accessible. In the less thickly-wooded parts graze numberless herds of cattle, the property of the Karakalpaks, who find abundance of game in the forest, but sometimes suffer greatly from the numerous wild beasts, especially panthers, tigers, and lions, which infest that district. From here to Görlen the stream has so many shallows, that we were incessantly striking aground. The left bank rises to an elevated plateau, which extends far in a north-westerly direction, and is called Yilankir (the field of serpents) by the natives. On the western frontier of the desert it forms a declivity as steep as the Kaflankir, or the whole table-land of Ustyurt. The population of this region consists of Jomut-Turkomans and Tchaudors; the former lead a nomadic life near the river, and in the country round Porsu and Yilali; the latter inhabit the skirts of the desert and the several oases of the Ustyurt. Both tribes, as may well be imagined, live in constant feud with each other,—a condition as much to their disadvantage, as it is to the advantage of the Œzbegs, the immediate neighbourhood of a strong and united nomad people proving always most dangerous to the dwellers in settled habitations.
On the evening of the third day we stopped at Khodja Ili,[13] a town about two hours' distance from the river. Most of the inhabitants derive their origin from Khodja, and they are not a little proud of comparing their ancestry with that of the other Œzbegs. The whole district is thickly populated, and the left bank forms as far as Nöks[14] an uninterrupted chain of wood and cultivated land. Here is one of the most dangerous places in the Oxus, a waterfall, which at the time of our voyage rushed down from the height of three feet with the swiftness of an arrow and with a tremendous noise, which is heard at the distance of more than a league. The natives call it Kazankitken, i.e., the spot where the cauldrons went to the bottom, since a vessel laden with these utensils is said to have been lost here. Full fifteen minutes before reaching the waterfall the boats are brought close to the shore, and carefully towed along. From here down the stream the river has formed by inundations very considerable lakes, which communicate with one another by small natural canals, which seldom dry up entirely. The largest are: Kuyruklu Köl and Sari Tchöngül. The former is said to extend for several days' journey far towards the north-east; the latter is smaller in circumference, but much deeper.