CHAPTER VII.
| KERVANBASHI INSISTS THAT AUTHOR SHOULD TAKE NO NOTES |
| EID MEHEMMED AND HIS BROTHER'S NOBLE CONDUCT |
| GUIDE LOSES HIS WAY |
| KÖRENTAGHI, ANCIENT RUINS, PROBABLY GREEK |
| LITTLE AND GREAT BALKAN |
| ANCIENT BED OF THE OXUS |
| VENDETTA |
| SUFFERINGS FROM THIRST. |
C'était une obscurité vaste comme la mer, au sein de laquelle le guide s'égarait . . . où périt le voyageur effrayé .--Victor Hugo, from Omaiah hen Aiedz.
[Kervanbashi insists that Author should take no Notes]
Without being able to discover the slightest trace of a path indicated by foot of camel or hoof of other animal, our karavan proceeded towards the north, directing its course in the day by the sun, and at night by the pole star. The latter is called by the Turkomans, from its immovability, Temir kazik (the iron peg). The camels were attached to one another in a long row, and led by a man on foot; and, although there was no positive place of honour, it was regarded as a certain sort of distinction to be placed near the Kervanbashi. The districts on the further side of Etrek, which form the foreground of the Great Desert, are indicated by the name of Bogdayla. We proceeded for two hours after sunset over a sandy bottom, which was not however particularly loose, and which presented an undulating, wavy surface, in no place of much elevation. By degrees the sand disappeared, and about midnight we had so firm a clayey soil under us, [{91}] that the regulated tread of the distant camels echoed as if some one was beating time in the still night. The Turkomans name such spots Takir; and as the one on which we were had a reddish colour, it bore the name Kizil-takir. We marched uninterruptedly till it was nearly dawn of day; altogether we had hardly advanced six miles, as they did not wish at the outset to distress the camels, but especially because the greatest personages in our company of travellers were unquestionably the buffaloes, of which one was in an interesting situation, and could not with her unwieldy body keep up even with the ordinary step of the camel,--consequently there was a halt for repose until eight o'clock in the morning; and whilst the camels were eating their fill of thistles and other plants of the desert, we had time to take our breakfast, which had not yet ceased to be luxurious, as our skins were still richly stored with fresh water, and so our heavy unleavened bread slipped down aided by its sweet draughts. As we had encamped close together, I remarked that the Kervanbashi, Ilias, and the chiefs of my companions, were conversing, and, as they did so, kept casting glances at me. It was easy for me to divine the subject of their conversation. I pretended, however, to pay no attention; and after having for some time fervently turned over the leaves of the Koran, I made a movement as if I had proposed to take part in the conversation. When I had approached a few steps, I was met by honest Ilias and Hadji Salih, who called me aside and told me that the Kervanbashi was making many objections to my joining him on the journey to Khiva, my appearance seeming suspicious to him; and he particularly feared the anger of the Khan, as he had some years before [{92}] conducted a Frenghi envoy to Khiva, who, in that single journey, took off a faithful copy of the whole route, and with his diabolical art had not forgotten to delineate any well or any hill on the paper. This had very much incensed the Khan; he had had two men executed who had betrayed information, and the Kervanbashi himself had only escaped with his life owing to the intercession of influential persons. 'After many objections,' said my friends, 'that we could not leave thee here behind in the desert, we have so far prevailed with him that he will take thee with him on the condition that thou wilt, first, permit thyself to be searched to see if thou hast any drawings or wooden pens (lead pencils), as the Frenghis generally have; and secondly that thou promise to take away with thee no secret notes respecting the hills and routes, for in the contrary case thou must remain behind, were we even in the midst of the desert.'
I heard all with the greatest patience, and, when they had finished, I played the part of one very angry, turned round to Hadji Salih, and, speaking so loud that the Kervanbashi could not fail to hear, said: 'Hadji, thou sawest me in Teheran and knowest who I am; tell Amandurdi (the name of the chief of our karavan) that it was by no means becoming in him as an honest man to lend ear to a drunken Binamaz (one who does not repeat his prayers) like the Afghan. We must not jest with religion, and he shall never again have an opportunity to assail one in so dangerous a particular; for he shall learn in Khiva to know with whom he has to deal.' The last words uttered with great violence, so as to be heard through the whole karavan, caused my colleagues, particularly the poorer ones, to grow very warm, and had I [{93}] not restrained them they would have assailed Emir Mehemmed, the malicious Afghan. The person most surprised by this zeal of theirs was the Kervanbashi himself; and I heard how he always contrived to repeat, in answer to the very different representations that were made to him, the same words, 'Khudaïm bilir!' (God knows!) He was an extremely honest, good-humoured man, an Oriental however, disposed, not so much out of malice as fondness for mysteries, to discover in me, any how and at all events, a stranger in disguise; and this, although he allowed himself on the one side to receive instruction from me in many a point of religion, and even in Gömüshtepe had heard that I was acquainted with many books. My artful manoeuvre had, as I have said, diminished my danger; but I still saw to my great regret that the injurious suspicion increased with every step, and that I should have the greatest difficulty in talking even the shortest notes of my journey. I was very much annoyed at not daring to put any questions as to the names of the different stations; for however immense the desert, the nomads inhabiting the various oases have affixed a specific designation to every place, every hill, and every valley, so that if exactly informed I might have marked each place on the map of Central Asia. Cunning has to be employed against cunning, and the scanty notices which I have been able to collect respecting the route is the fruit of an artifice with which I will not weary the reader. What bitter disappointment, what annoyance, must not the traveller feel who, after having through long struggles and great perils reached at length the fountain he longs for, cannot even then slake his thirst!
[Eid Mehemmed and his Brother's noble Conduct]
After the lapse of eight hours, we again set out; but our march, after having proceeded without interruption for two hours, gradually slackened. Some of the Turkomans dismounted, and occupied themselves busily to the right and to the left in carefully examining the smaller hills. As I learnt afterwards, one of our travelling companions, Eid Mehemmed, was desirous of discovering the tomb of his brother, who had fallen here in a combat the previous year. He had also brought a coffin with him to transport the corpse to Khiva. It may have been about two o'clock in the afternoon when we stopped. They found the grave, and applied themselves to the task of opening it. After having laid the half-putrid body in the coffin and packed it in felt, accompanying the operation with recitations of the usual prayers and citations from the Koran, in which I also had to take my part, we were treated with the details of the combat by an eye-witness. The intention of this man was to do honour to the departed, for praise such as he bestowed none but the noblest of men could deserve. 'We had in our karavan,' said the speaker, 'several Persians, journeying from Khiva to Astrabad, and amongst them there was a very wealthy merchant, named Mollah Kaszim, from the city last named. He had for years been engaged in the traffic carried on between Persia and Khiva, and, having constant occasion to visit the latter country, was the guest of the deceased, and consequently under the safeguard of his hospitality, both in Khiva and in the desert. It so happened that last year he was returning home with a large sum of money, and although dressed as a Turkoman, and perfectly familiar with our language, his presence amongst us was detected by the Haramzadeh (bastards) of Etrek. They hastened to meet [{95}] and assail us. In number they were superior, but in spite of that we maintained a combat that lasted eight hours. After we had killed two of their number, they called to us to surrender the fat Persian dog, thereby meaning Mollah Kaszim, and that the fight would be at an end, for that they wanted nothing from us. That no one of us, still less the departed one, was disposed to consent to this, may readily be imagined; and although the Persian himself, who feared the balls hissing about in all directions, begged that the fighting might be put an end to, and was desirous of surrendering himself as a prisoner, the battle had to be fought out. Soon afterwards he' (and he pointed to the corpse) 'was pierced by a bullet. He fell from his horse, and the few words that he was able to utter were to the effect that he commended his guest, the Persian, who was sobbing all the time like a child with terror, to his brother Eid Mehemmed. Under the leadership of the latter we continued the contest till the morning, when the robbers retreated, with loss. After having buried the deceased here, we travelled on, and three days afterwards the Persian was conducted to Astrabad.'