“Then if you are English by subjectivity,” he regularly shouted, “produce your English passport.”
I did so, amid the silence that such a curious and formidable-looking document produced, and it saved me. Without a word the Turkish “tezkere” was handed back to me, and feeling now doubly triumphant, for I had proved the disguise of language, manners I had adopted, almost too perfect, and had, at the same time, demonstrated to a crowd of unattached roughs and Turks, that bullying could not extort from me the money which was the sole object of the policeman.
Half an hour later, Haji and the Arab merchant came back, cursing the Turks. The old man had a passport which had been handed him when he left the army thirty-five years before, in the days of Sultan Abdul Aziz, and had been forced to pay a mejidie because it was so old. The Arab had a similar document, and paid a similar sum.
With a feeling of great relief, that even the presence of our eight soldiers could hardly quell, we cast off and commenced our journey to Mosul.
A few words are necessary here of Jazira. It was occupied for a long time by the Romans, who built the citadel, but before that its position at the entrance to the mountain system of Masius gave it importance as the outpost of the city of Nineveh, in Assyrian times, an importance it retained till quite recently, when Turkish influence has killed it. The ill-fated pretender Meherdates passed here in A.D. 49, on his way south, and the Emperor Trajan, a century later, made it a depôt for the wood he cut in the mountains, to build ships for the invasion of Babylonia, then in Parthian hands. We are told that it suffered much at the hands of wild Kurds, and later it has been the scene of many bloody battles. For many years it was owned and ruled by the Khans of the great Hakkiari tribe of Kurds, and was a Chaldean centre while they ruled there. In the world of Oriental literature it claims a position as the birthplace of Ibn ul Athir, a great Arabian historian, who was born there A.D. 1230. To-day the mixed population has a reputation for roguery, treachery, and lawlessness.
Here begins the great plain, which, occasionally broken by insignificant hills, at last, below the Sinjar range south of Mosul, drops to the dead level of the Mesopotamian plain, which, unrelieved by even a mound, stretches right away to the Persian Gulf.
The passage from Jazira is usually, in springtime, reckoned as two days, but we were not to be so fortunate. Our raft, very heavy to row, presented a large surface to the wind, and the day after leaving Jazira, a strong breeze drove us against the bank. We struck with a terrifying crack of tree-trunks, and some skins burst, no serious damage really occurring. It was sufficient, however, for the army. With one accord, crying out curses upon the river and the wind, they rushed to the edge of the raft nearest shore, and despite a 5-foot bank, past which we were skimming at a high speed (for we had not stuck), they leaped off, leaving coats, shoes, and food behind. Two or three had near escapes from drowning, and all got partially immersed in the icy water. Scrambling to the top, they attempted to pursue us, screaming to us to stop—in their folly imagining it possible—but the thorns and the pace at which we went, soon convinced them of the uselessness of haste, and they desisted and were left standing in the desert—and blaspheming.
RUN AGROUND
We had not come off quite unscathed. A corner of the raft was badly broken, the loss of skins allowed a considerable portion to sink under water. Moreover, a thole-pin was wrenched out of place, making rowing very difficult. Worst of all, the current became very swift, and we could find no place with water sufficiently slack to allow mooring. Till sunset we had to go on, when a fortunate side-current—out of which we foolishly tried our best to row—took us round the corner to a quiet pool, and we tied up on the bank opposite to that of the soldiers’ desertion.
All night we spent repairing, taking shares in the labour of walking into the water and bringing ashore the heavy bags of apricots—spongy with water. At dawn, tired, but hopeful of a safe arrival at Mosul that afternoon, we set out, but a side-current of exceptional force and speed caught us, and cast us upon a rock, against which the stream fought and broke. We took it broadside on. The force overthrew our tent and the samovar of boiling water for tea. Teacups, saucers, and such small fry, leaped out into the stream, a bale rolled off, then a box—of mine—skins popped or floated away detached, rafters smashed, and we sailed away, carried along irresistibly, literally sinking. The crew and passengers were busy trying to save the cargo, that threatened to roll overboard. Rowing was impossible, for an oar was damaged, and we could only sit and wait for the next crash, which we were certain would come, and hope that it might be in shallow water.