We had heard on starting from Khiva that the Tekke Turkomans, profiting by the absence from Bokhara of the Emir and his army, were infesting the approaches to the latter city, and our Kervanbashi felt secretly anxious on that account; but what we now heard set his mind at ease. We were in hopes of reaching the end of our journey in six or eight days, of which we should have to pass only two without arriving at water, that is to say, in the desert between the Oxus and Karaköl.
The next morning we encamped at Tünüklü, the ruins of an ancient fortress on a little hill, at the foot of which flows the Oxus, and which is itself covered with the most beautiful verdure. From this point there is a way lying in a north-easterly direction, through the sandy desert of Khalata Tchöli, otherwise designated Djan Batirdigan [Footnote 39] (life destroyer), but [{154}] which is only frequented in winter, after heavy falls of snow, at times when the Karaköl route is infested by the Turkomans, who at that period of the year, owing to the freezing of the Oxus, circulate in every direction without obstacle.
[Footnote 39: More correctly Batirdurgan, present participle of the verb batirmak (destroy).]
In the meantime the heat became more and more intense, but it did not much affect us, as we reposed every day on the banks of a mighty river, full of sweet water; and what feelings of grateful gladness were ours when we recollected Kahriman Ata, and other places in the great desert between Khiva and Gömüshtepe. Unhappily we were soon disturbed in our agreeable reflections, and placed, by the freaks of some Turkoman adventurers, in a position of danger such as might have brought us all to a terrible end, had we not been preserved by an accident or fatality.
[Alaman of the Tekke; Karavan alarmed returns to Tünüklü]
It was just about daybreak when we met on our march two half-naked men, who from a distance shouted out to our karavan. On coming up to us they sank upon the ground, uttering the words, 'A morsel of bread, a morsel of bread!' I was one of the first to tender them bread and mutton fat. After eating a little, they began to tell us that they were boatmen from Hezaresp, and that they had been robbed by a Tekke Alaman of boat, clothes, and bread, and had been dismissed with life alone; that the robbers were 150 in number, and contemplated a razzia upon the herds of the Kirghis round about. 'For God's sake,' said one of them, 'fly or conceal yourselves, or in a few hours you will encounter them, and in spite of your all being pious pilgrims, they will leave you behind in the desert, without beasts or food, for the Kair, disbelieving Tekke, are capable of anything.' Our Kervanbashi, who had [{155}] been already twice robbed, and had had great difficulty in escaping with his life, needed not the counsel; scarcely had he heard the words 'Tekke' and 'Alaman,' when he in all haste gave the command to face about, and began the retreat with as much rapidity as the poor heavily-laden camels permitted. To attempt to fly with these animals from Turkomans mounted on horses, would of course have been the height of folly; still, according to our calculation, 150 horsemen could not be transported over the river till the morning, and whilst the robbers were cautiously proceeding on the route, we might again reach Tünüklü, and having refilled our water-skins, throw ourselves into the Khalata (desert), where our destruction might not be so certain. After the most excessive exertions, our poor brutes arrived quite exhausted before Tünüklü. Here we were obliged to accord them a little pasture and repose, otherwise it would have been impossible to reach even the first station in the sand. We tarried on the spot therefore perforce, tremblingly, three hours, until we had had time to fill our skins, and to make preparations for the terrible journey.
The dealer in clothes from Khiva, who had himself been once already robbed by the Turkomans, had, in the meantime, persuaded several of the Hadjis--those I mean who had well-filled sacks, but no courage --rather to hide themselves with him in the underwood on the river's bank, than during the Saratan (dog-days) to throw themselves into the desert, where they would be menaced not only with death from thirst, but with destruction from the Tebbad (hot-wind from the east).
He painted the perils in such lively terms that many separated themselves from our party; and as just at that moment an empty skiff appeared on the river, and the boatmen, approaching the bank where we were, offered to take us to Hezaresp, every one began to waver, and soon there remained only fourteen faithful to the original plan of the Kervanbashi. That, indeed, was the most critical moment of my whole journey! To return to Khiva might, I reflected, disturb the whole design of my journey. 'My life, indeed, is threatened everywhere--is everywhere in danger; forward, then, forward! better to perish by the fury of the elements than by the racks of tyrants!'
I remained with the Kervanbashi, as did also Hadji Salih and Hadji Bilal. It was a painful scene, that parting from our cowardly fellow-travellers; and behold, as the skiff was upon the point of putting off, our friends already on board proposed a Fal. [Footnote 40]