The hill above named, which is but a sort of promontory jutting out from a long chain of inconsiderable hills stretching to the south-east, affords an extensive and fine view. To the west we discover the Caspian Sea like a range of blue clouds; the mountains of Persia are also distinguishable: but the greatest interest attaches to the mountain plain to our south, whose limit the eye cannot discern, on which the scattered groups of tents in many places have the appearance of mole-hills. Almost the whole of Etrek, with the river flowing through it, lies before us, and the places where the river spreads over both banks produce upon the eye the effect of lakes. As we were near the encampment of the Kem, we were counselled by Kulkhan, who thought proper to tarry with us this one more night, to keep a sharp look-out; and evening had not closed in before we posted watches, which, relieved from time to time, observed every movement around us.
Understanding that this station formed the last outpost towards the Great Desert, I profited by the opportunity which the return of our escort afforded, and spent the afternoon in writing letters whilst my companions were sleeping. Besides the small pieces of paper concealed in the wool of my Bokhariot dress for the purpose of notes, I had two sheets of blank paper in the Koran which was suspended from my neck in a little bag: upon these I wrote two letters, one to Haydar Effendi, addressed to Teheran, and the second to Khandjan, requesting him to forward the former. [Footnote 19]
[Footnote 19: Upon my return I found at the Turkish Embassy this letter, acquainting my friends with my being about to commence my journey in the desert, as well as other communications which I had sent on from Gömüshtepe. My good friend Khandjan had forwarded them with the greatest zeal and exactitude.]
The next morning a four hours' march brought us to the banks of the Etrek, properly so called. A good deal of time was devoted to finding the shallowest points where the river could be most readily forded, a task by no means easy, for although the usual breadth of the river is only from twelve to fifteen paces, this was now doubled by the water having overflowed its banks, and the softened loamy ground caused a real martyrdom to the poor camels, so that our Turkomans were justified in their long hesitation. The current, indeed, was not very strong, still the water came up to the bellies of the camels; and the uncertain wavering steps of our labouring, wading animals dipped our kedjeve now on the right side, now on the left, into the troubled waters of the Etrek: one false step and I should have been plunged into mud and dirt, and at no small risk have had to make my way by swimming to the opposite bank. Happily all crossed in good order, and scarcely had we come to a halt when the anxiously-expected karavan of the Kervanbashi came in sight, having in its van three buffaloes (two cows and a bull), to whose health-promising advent the sick Lord of Khiva could hardly look forward with greater impatience than we had done.
The reader will remember that Hadji Bilal, Yusuf, some foot travellers and myself, had been obliged to separate from the main body of our Dervish karavan, because the others had found greater difficulties than myself in finding camels to hire. As we had heard no tidings of them in Etrek, we began to be anxious lest these poor people might have no opportunity of following us. We were, therefore, greatly rejoiced to see them all coming up in good condition in the karavan that now joined us. We kissed and hugged one another with the heartiness of brethren who meet [{86}] after a long separation. My emotion was great when I once more saw around me the Hadji Salih and Sultan Mahmoud, and all the others too; yes, all my mendicant companions; for, although I regarded Hadji Bilal as my dearest friend, I was compelled to avow to myself my warm attachment to them all, without distinction.
[Adieu to Etrek]
As the river Etrek afforded us the last opportunity of sweet water until, after twenty days' journey, we should refresh ourselves on the banks of the Oxus, I counselled my companions not to let the opportunity slip, but at least, this last time, to drink our fill of tea. We therefore brought forward the tea-vessels, I proffered my fresh-baked bread, and long afterwards did we remember the luxury and abundance of this festival held in honour of our meeting.