With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

When morning broke, the sun shone forth on a scene of desolation. ‘The waters covered the earth.’ There was no trace of gardens left. Many of the visitors’ bungalows had subsided, and all of them had some depth of water in the lower floors. Our boatmen poled us along through places which, two days before, were dry land, and into gardens, over which a mass of water was tearing. Our crew aided their progress by holding on to cherry-trees, and freely helped themselves to the fruit, which a few hours previous they would not have reached without the aid of a ladder.

We passed through the poplar avenue, one of the walks near the city, the tall trees of which had been planted by the Sikhs many years ago. Now a torrent rushed along the favourite ride. As we glided on, we saw a poor Pariah dog seated on a door, floating anywhere, and howling piteously. My wife was most anxious to save the forlorn animal, and made the boatmen take us near to it. She spoke to it kindly, and coaxed it to be good; but when its enemy, man, came nearer and nearer, it distrusted us, and sprang from its door, and was swept away. As we looked on the vast expanse of waters our wonder was great; but how much was it increased when we both saw a rat and a serpent swimming close together, too intent on getting to dry land to take any heed of each other. As we continued on, we picked up a chicken, which was in great dismay, but soon fraternised with us, and, being named Nourmahal, became our companion for a long time after she had been saved.

It would be tedious to enumerate all our adventures. It was an experience never to be forgotten. We spent several days in our boats, but it was some time before the waters subsided, and the full extent of the damage to life and property could be ascertained. The peril most dreaded—the rising of the lake and the bursting of the water-gate—when the town of Srinagur would have been, most probably, swept away, and the whole valley destroyed, was mercifully averted. A broad embankment is built for protection, and the water-gate is so formed that, when the lake rises, the gate closes itself; but when at its proper level the huge wooden doors open.

Our crew brought our squadron to anchor at the base of Tukht Suliman, on whose sides our horses were picketed. We climbed to its summit to the little temple where King Solomon once sat, so says tradition. The view of the valley is the most extensive that can be had, and from where we stood we saw the full length of the poplar avenue of magnificent trees. There are in all one thousand seven hundred and fourteen trees, of which one thousand six hundred and ninety-nine are poplars, and fifteen chenars (so I find noted down).

The scene presented to us was most interesting. Very many dongahs, like our own, had taken refuge here, out of which appeared mothers with children in all states of undress. These poor ladies, like ourselves, had been obliged to embark in a hurry, and found, no doubt, that a nursery was an inconvenient obstacle to overcome. But, like true women, they bowed to the inevitable, and made the best of everything.

We remained a few days near the friendly rocks, till the waters had subsided. During that time the great Baboo Mohas Chander had often paid us visits. He informed me that the cause of the flood was the melting of a glacier in the mountains, which had forced its way in volumes of water down to the river. I never heard this information contradicted, so I suppose it was true.

CHAPTER XI.
VALLEY OF THE SCIND.

JOURNEY TO THE NISHAT BAGH—FLOATING GARDENS—SUPERFINE JOE—ISLE OF CHENARS—INSCRIPTION—NIGHTINGALES—SUDDEN STORM—SUNBUL—AN IRISHMAN’S DINNER—THE GUARDIAN OF THE LAKE—GANDERBUL—NOONSER—ENGAGEMENT OF A SHIKARREE—AN IRISHMAN LOSING HIS ‘PRESENCE OF MIND’—A HOLY MAN—CROSSING A RICKETY BRIDGE—VALLEY OF THE SCIND—BEARS.

CHAPTER XI.

The weather had quite improved again, so we determined to proceed on our travels once more, and, having still retained our flat-bottomed gondolas, we gave orders to our new crew to take us through the drogjun, or water-gate, into the lake, whose embankments had caused so much alarm to the Maharajah and to everyone. How enchanting it all was! We had left our moorings in the afternoon, and the glow of the fading day was like a halo over mountain and woods.