Through deserts and oases of central Asia

by Ella Sykes; Sir Percy Sykes

On the day that we left Ilchi we made a détour in order to visit the site of Yotkan, which was the capital of the province a thousand years ago. Old Badrudin led us a zigzag course round low-walled fields, and after four or five miles announced that we had reached our goal. We then dismounted and scrambled down a muddy slope on to a stretch of cultivated ground at the foot of a low cliff. This latter had been cut through by a yar, or ravine created by the action of the water which had escaped from an irrigation canal, and this yar revealed bits of gold and débris of all kinds on its banks. Sir Aurel Stein, who began his famous excavations with the investigation of this site, points out that without this fortunate accident the city so often mentioned in the Chinese annals might never have been discovered. The inhabitants of the village close by immediately began to dig for treasure, washing the earth for gold, and by their efforts the fields had been lowered several feet, because the strata containing the finds were some thirteen feet beneath the surface. Sir Aurel Stein discovered no remains of buildings, but was not surprised at this, for mud bricks crumble away in the course of centuries; and it also occurred to me that perhaps the peasants may follow the custom of the Persian cultivator, who uses the débris of ruins as a dressing for his crops. Moreover, as the fields lying on the site of Yotkan were irrigated, the action of the water would soon disintegrate any buildings constructed of sun-dried bricks. The fact that the soil lies to-day some nine to twenty feet above the old capital is due to the system of irrigation; for the water let in over the fields carries much silt with it. The roads throughout all the oases in Turkestan are from this cause much lower than the fields, while the cemeteries, not being cultivated, are at about the same level as the roads.

Badrudin told us the current legend that Yotkan had been destroyed by a great flood which overwhelmed both the city and its inhabitants, but Sir Aurel Stein shows this theory to be untenable, although he apparently offers no other to account for the desertion of what was an important city ten centuries ago.

Our host showed us various interesting objects found on the spot, a beautiful terra-cotta vase with a Buddha on either side being the chief, together with tiny terra-cotta figurines and a white jade ring. I was told that the Chinese archers wear these rings on their little fingers to keep them from being cut when they twang their bows. Sir Aurel Stein bought a tiny monkey made of gold, and says that there is still a small but profitable yield of the precious metal in the form of gold-leaf, which was used extensively to decorate the Buddhist temples and statues. Fa-hien mentions the splendour of these shrines and their attendant monasteries in the fifth century, and Rémusat gives details of the gorgeous ceremonial worship.

When we left Yotkan we rode to Zawa, where we rested, in anticipation of the night march across the desert to the serai of Ak Langar. In spite of our protests, genial old Badrudin insisted on accompanying us thus far on our homeward way, and it was not till half-past eight that night that with sincere regret we said good-bye to him. The moon, now in its third quarter, had not risen, and our late host did us a final good office by sending his body-servant ahead of our party, carrying a little native lamp of classic design with two wicks hanging from its spout. He proved a most useful torch-bearer, for the darkness under the trees of the oasis seemed impenetrable at first, and he pointed out the many small bridges and irrigation channels over which our horses might have come to grief in the all-pervading gloom. Time and again the feeble light seemed about to be extinguished by the breeze, but it held out until we were free of the village, and we were then put in charge of a Chinese runner who was to be our guide across the sand-dunes. The British Agent’s trusty henchman now dismounted, kissed my brother’s knee in token of farewell and, to my astonishment, actually wept, though I cynically reflected that this emotion must be due rather to the amount of his pourboire than to affection for the British Consul.

Half an hour later the moon cast a faint gleam across the desert, and we walked our horses in the track of the tall, wiry guide who kept ahead of us all the time, now and then breaking into a run when he reached the crest of a dune or descending it with great leaps. Our horses certainly walked at the rate of four miles an hour on an average, but the ya-yieh did the ten miles to the serai without turning a hair and arrived in better condition than I did. I had had a fatiguing day; for there is always much to do when setting off again after a longish halt, and, counting the distance to and from Yotkan, I had ridden nearly forty miles. This in itself was nothing, as I loved being in the saddle; but it was trying to set off on a second march at the hour when I was usually making ready for bed, and I felt grateful to the pure tonic air of the desert that made me feel as fit as ever on the morrow.

Having retraced our steps to Yarkand, we made a détour by way of Merket, my brother being anxious to see that part of the country and to shoot some of the pheasants named after Shaw. We and our horses were again punted across the main stream of the river, and then had to ride warily, following defined tracks in order to escape the dangerous quicksands, and when we forded branches of the stream we avoided places where stakes protruding from the water warned us of holes or treacherous sands. It was rather a relief to clamber out upon the loess banks of the river, from which we had picturesque glimpses of sandy islets on which duck and water-birds were feeding, and I remember the delicious perfume of the melons that were laid out to dry in a field close to our encampment for the night.

It was mid-October when we reached Merket, and my brother, who had had many disappointments as to the duck-shooting he had been promised, felt his hopes revive as the natives spoke of a lake some four miles off which simply teemed with water-fowl. I suppose it is inbred in Orientals to say what they think will please a superior; the peasants at all events were seemingly unconcerned as to whether their statements were accurate or not. On this occasion, for example, the so-called lake turned out to be a small marsh, dried up by the summer heats and with never a sign of bird-life among its withered rushes. This was rather a blow; but, on making enquiry about game at a prosperous-looking village that lay outside one of the wide belts of stunted trees through which the sandy road led, we heard that the jungle was swarming with pheasants. A party of beaters was improvised on the spot, and my brother went off full of hope, while I rode slowly on with old Jafar Bai and the one-legged Hindu trader, having agreed to halt for our mid-day meal a couple of miles farther on. And now the Hindu began to play the well-known game of dangling a lure before the European, the bait in my case being water. He professed that he knew every inch of the road and that a refreshing stream was close at hand; but, when we had ridden considerably farther than the stipulated distance, I revolted, and stopping in the shade of the trees ordered lunch to be served as soon as Sattur and his mapa arrived. Hardly had I finished when the sporting party cantered up with the disheartening news that they had not seen a single pheasant. It was a day of disappointments; for, as we were riding into camp, a servant rushed up with the news that wild-duck were in abundance on a lake near which we had passed. Hope again revived, and off my brother went, but, as usual, after a fata Morgana. This day is a sample of many. During our halt at Merket my brother shot only two or three of the Shaw pheasants, and he had no luck when he rode off at five o’clock in the morning to watch the great hunting eagles bring down gazelle, although they made successful flights at hares. Probably the scarcity of game is owing to the fact that the country is comparatively thickly populated and well-cultivated, and that many of the peasants are sportsmen and have no scruples as to close seasons.

A DULANI SHAYKH.

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