From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

1st March.—Calá Ján Beg to Chárburjak—fourteen miles; route, west by north, over a bare gravelly desert, dotted here and there by the ruins of forts and towns for the first half of the distance. Beyond this the surface is undulating, and covered with brown pebbles that glistened with a silver lustre in the morning sunlight. On the alluvium on the opposite side of the river we observed the ruins of a large fortified town called Ishkinak. Around it are the huts and fields of the Zabardast Balochi. Westward of this are the cultivation and settlements of Hasenábád, belonging to Imám Khán of Chárburjak. They extend in a long narrow strip of corn-fields and huts between the river and the desert cliffs bounding the alluvium to the northward.

At about half-way we were met by Sher Muhammad, son of Imám Khán. He was attended by three or four horsemen, and came to excuse his father’s meeting us on the plea of ill-health, but invited us on his part to camp at his fort. We acquiesced in the arrangement, and he consequently hurried back with the intelligence. Meanwhile we dismounted at a roadside mound to breakfast and let the baggage get on ahead. From this elevation we got a view of the top of the Sarhadd mountains, three days’ journey across the desert due south. These mountains are described as well watered from numerous springs, and the valleys as covered with groves of the date-palm. To the west of them is the Baloch district of Ishpí, in which rice is largely cultivated. Away to the distant west we saw, but indistinctly, the Nihbandán range, running north and south, and closing the Sistan basin in that direction.

From this we went on along the river bank, and camped on a sandy spot in its wide channel, directly opposite Chárburjak, on its farther bank. This is a square fort, with towers at each angle, and is a recent construction, dating only from the time of Muhammad Razá, the Sárbandi chief of Sihkoha. The river is here easily forded stirrup-deep at this season. Soon after our arrival in camp Imám Khán sent us a feast cooked in Baloch fashion, but as we had but recently breakfasted, we were not yet prepared to appreciate the merits of the savoury-smelling corma and kabáb, nor to test the digestibility of the three different kinds of bread loading the trays, viz., fritter, pancake, and muffin.

We here learned that Sir F. Goldsmid’s party had been in this vicinity some days ago, and an Afghan priest describing their doings to the Saggid, not knowing that his Pushto speech was understood by us, said in a ludicrously plaintive voice, “Yes! the Farangis have been here, and they have gone. They mounted to the top of every high mound, and put telescopes to their eyes. They have seen all our country inside and out, and made a map of it. God only knows what will become of us now!” A quiet hint from his friends warned him, and he took care not to commit himself further, and presently retired to the Saggid’s tent.

Later in the afternoon the Saggid came to our tent to consult with the General as to the advisability of removing the couriers we had left behind at the several stages through Garmsel, for the transmission of our posts to and from India, as he had received reliable information that our reception in Sistan would not be an agreeable one. He considered that the safety of those men, in their isolated posts on the Sistan border, would be jeopardised, and thought it best that they should be removed to the more direct and safer route from Kandahar by Girishk to Farráh. A messenger was consequently despatched with orders for the several troopers to return to Kandahar, and by the same opportunity a letter was sent to the governor of that city, instructing him of the new arrangement made for our posts. Of the correctness of the Saggid’s views, and the wisdom of his action in this matter, we later on had proof, as will be mentioned in its proper place.

From Chárburjak letters were sent off to Mír Alam Khán, Persian governor of Sistan, and to Mirzá Másúm Khán, Persian commissioner, announcing our arrival, and intimating our proposed route to Burj Alam. At the same time, owing to the disquieting reports we had received, it was decided to send on our spare tents to the next stage at Bandar.

We ourselves followed next morning, but we had hardly cleared out of camp, when one of our men returned to say that the Kárwánbáshí, Sálih Muhammad, in charge of our peshkhájurd, or advanced camp, had been stopped by an armed party from the Bandar fort, and ordered to return, but the Kárwánbáshí refusing, the camels were halted till he could hear from us. The messenger was sent back with orders for him to remain where he was, and we proceeded. Presently after, another horseman was seen approaching us in hot haste. He turned out to be a Persian, and came on the part of Kamál Khán of Bandar, to apologise for the contretemps regarding our baggage, and to assure us of a welcome reception. With the national volubility and hyperbole, he almost persuaded us that we would be treated as honoured guests, and be furnished freely with all our camp required. It was not long, however, before our doubts were settled; for though camped close under the fort, the chief neither came to see us, nor showed us the smallest attention, whilst, on the contrary, supplies were withheld on one pretence and another till late in the evening, and then doled out sparely at their own price.

Our route from Chárburjak was nearly due west, and for the first few miles crossed a sandy tract covered with dwarf mimosa and tamarisk. The caked sand and clay on this tract was evidently a deposit from the river floods. Between this and the desert cliffs is a strip of bare pebbly ground. We followed this for some miles along the course of a very ancient canal, which formerly, it is said, irrigated Trákú, and all the country to the town of Zirrah. It is called Júe Karshasp or Garshasp, but appears to be quite distinct from the canal of that name met at Rúdbár. It is said to have been excavated by Garshasp, the grandson of Jamshed, and ancestor of Rustam. It is of considerable size, and is furnished with numerous cross-cuts opening into the main channel at a certain height, and meant to carry off the overflow in seasons of the river flood.

Beyond this we passed the ruins of a small town, and then came to the Bandar or Trákú canal, a recent cutting dating from the time of Muhammad Razá, Sárbandi. We crossed it by a rustic bridge, and turning to the left through some tamarisk jangal, rose on to the desert, which here projects towards the river in a succession of tall cliffs.

From this high ground we got an extensive view of the Sistan plain and the alluvium on the right bank of the river, which gradually widens to the northward into the proportions of a plain. The Helmand is seen to make a sudden turn at Bandar, and to flow north-west in a very tortuous course. A drearier prospect one could not wish to see. To the south is the great sandy desert, whose bare surface cuts the horizon as does the ocean. To the west lies the wide plain of Sistan, a flat, bare, pebbly tract, the uniformity of which is only broken by the ruins that here and there stud the surface. To the northward winds the Helmand, in a wide channel crowded with tamarisk forest. Beyond the river stretches a widening strip of alluvium, the characteristic features of which are its conspicuous ruins, backed by desert cliffs, which here too cut the horizon in one vast line of unbroken waste. Descending from this elevated strip of desert, we entered on the Sistan plain, and at a mile or so came to Bandar Fort, where we camped. Bandar, for this country, is a strong place. It consists of a fort within fortified walls, which are loopholed, and furnished with bastions for a flank fire. The whole, place is very neatly built, and appears to be of recent construction, the outer walls particularly.