From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

About half an hour later a loud scream attracted my attention, and, turning, I found Jee Boo flat on the ground in a dead faint, the effect, as I rightly guessed, of the sun. Moses even then was very loth to stop, and it was only by a judicious exposure of my revolver, of which Mongols have a wholesome dread, that I succeeded in halting the caravan. Pitching the tent, I soon had the wretched Chinaman inside, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. I found him quite unconscious, while the eyelid when opened disclosed a broad expanse of white, which was far from reassuring. Apart from the mere fact of losing the poor fellow, I could not help wondering what would become of us, in the event of his death, for we knew but half a dozen words of Mongol, and without an interpreter were helpless as the babes in the wood! The atmosphere of the tent soon became so stifling that I had to leave it for a few minutes, feeling quite sick and faint. We all know the value of water in such cases, but of this we could ill spare a drop, having but about half a gallon left. The next well, it was true, was but seven miles distant, but who could tell that it, like its predecessor, might not be dry and empty? Altogether the situation was about as awkward as it could well be, and I cursed (not for the first time) the unlucky fate that had ever brought me to the desert of Gobi! But something had to be done and quickly, so for the first time I opened our small medicine-chest, the furnishing of which I had carelessly taken but little trouble about. Of course, as usual, everything not required was handy. Rolls of diachylon plaster, Cockle’s pills, chlorodyne, menthol, Dover’s and seidlitz powders, came tumbling out in glorious confusion; but we fumbled about in despair for a remedy, while Jee Boo’s heavy, stertorous breathing warned us that not a moment was to be lost. I was determined that if he did die, I should not be the only one responsible for his demise, and insisted upon Lancaster’s giving his opinion as to treatment! If poor Jee Boo had known the state of doubt his medical advisers were in, I think he would have suffered even more than he did! But the course of treatment was at last decided upon, though we differed materially for some time, Lancaster insisting upon it that we should open a vein. As (when I pressed him) he seemed uncertain what vein, I felt in the interest of Jee Boo’s possible widow and orphans that this was unjust. Even my small experience in surgery told me that there are some veins the opening of which will kill the strongest man in under five minutes. So this course was (by Lancaster) reluctantly abandoned, and a huge dose of sal volatile and water administered. I shall never forget that moment or my state of mind during the working of the medicine. However (and no one was more surprised than myself) it had the desired effect, and at the end of about ten minutes we had the satisfaction of seeing our patient slowly open his eyes. In half an hour he was quite conscious again. I can scarcely recommend this treatment to my readers as an infallible one for sunstroke. Indeed, I have since been told by a physician, that had not my patient been a Chinaman, it would have killed him right off!

We were not sorry to get out of the tent, for the temperature therein registered over 100°. As the flimsy structure was only intended to hold three at the most, and as every one assisted at our medical consultation, this was hardly surprising. When we emerged again into the open air the changed appearance of the sky and desert somewhat puzzled, not to say alarmed, us. The heat was still oppressive, but whereas half an hour previously the sky had been bright and cloudless, it was now darkened, while the sun like a huge ball of fire glowed, red and angry, in the misty heavens, which had changed within the last ten or fifteen minutes from a deep intense blue to a uniform leaden colour. Nor was the appearance of the desert the same, the glassy yellow expanse of sand had disappeared. Beyond a distance of thirty or forty yards one saw nothing but a moving yellow mass swaying to and fro, and producing the effect, against the dark masses of cloud, of a huge field of ripe corn waving wildly about in a heavy gale of wind.

The coup-d’œil would have been peculiar and interesting anywhere else. In the desert it was weird and alarming, so much so that I returned to the tent, and, calling Moses out, drew his attention to it, and not a moment too soon. In less time than it takes to write, Sylvia was scouring the plain in search of the camels, which had fortunately not strayed far out of reach, while Aaron busied himself in firmly hammering in the tent-pegs, which had only been lightly fixed during our temporary halt. In less than ten minutes the camels were in and tethered in a line next the carts, to which the ponies were firmly fastened. Moses then led or rather pushed us into our carts, and slammed the door in our faces. Looking out of the window a moment after I saw the Mongols disappear one by one into the tent; Sylvia, who entered last, firmly fastening the aperture behind him. During these mysterious preparations it had become darker and darker, while the wind, which had suddenly risen, was driving thick woolly masses of white cloud across the black lowering sky. We were not long in suspense. A few seconds only elapsed when a perfect tornado burst upon us. I managed with some difficulty to open my door on the lee side and look out, but could see nothing but one whirling mass of sand or vapour, I could not tell which, in appearance very much like a thick London fog. Nor could we hear anything but the whirling of the wind, the wild, unearthly cries of the camels, whose shadowy forms I could just distinguish huddled together a few yards from me, and the neighing of Chow and Karra, the latter of whom had, with his usual sagacity and fore-thought, broken his bridle and crawled under my cart. Then for the first time the truth dawned upon me——we were in a sandstorm.

It was not an agreeable sensation, for I was in a pleasing state of uncertainty as to how it would all end. One might as well have tried, during the storm, to attract the attention of the man in the moon as to make oneself heard. Luckily it did not last long. In five minutes it was over, and the sky blue and clear again. The sight on looking out of the carts again was a queer one. The camels’ heads were invisible, each being burrowed under the body of his neighbour. As for the tent, it had disappeared, and it was only after a time that I made out a heap of sand with a moving mass underneath to show where it had been. It had blown down early in the proceedings, and Moses and Co., to say nothing of the wretched Jee Boo, narrowly escaped suffocation. In half an hour everything had resumed its wonted appearance, and the air was as cool and pleasant as before it had been sultry and oppressive. The inside of our carts, though, were an inch deep in sand, and our nostrils, hair and eyes full of it. Save for a hot, feverish feeling that banished sleep, and gave one an uncomfortable feeling in the head like influenza, we felt no ill effects, and were not altogether sorry when it was over that we had experienced the strange phenomenon. Sandstorms are rare in Gobi, but when they do occur are dangerous to solitary travellers. Many mysterious disappearances in this part of the desert are put down to them; for the sand-drifts obliterating the marks of the Mongol’s guiding rods, he is unable to retrace his steps to the yourt he started from.

We reached the wells at about 4 a.m. next morning, and were relieved to find them nearly full, and the water drinkable. The rain came down in torrents shortly afterwards. We would have given a good deal for a shower the day before, but could now have gladly dispensed with it, for the carts leaked badly, and we were wet through before the weather cleared at daybreak. We got a couple of hours’ rest though, and by ten o’clock were away again, refreshed if not rested. It is astonishing what little amount of sleep a man can do with when put to it.

The morning of this (the 23rd of August) was bright and clear, and the rain and cool air seemed to have given a new lease of life to man and beast. Jee Boo, though complaining of slight headache, had otherwise quite recovered from his attack, so that with the bright sunshine and crisp, clear air, our spirits rose, and all went merry as the traditional marriage-bell. Towards midday we had a somewhat exciting chase after an antelope, and one that might have resulted somewhat disagreeably. The ever-watchful Jee Boo having sighted a herd near a ridge of rocks some three miles distant, we saddled the ponies, and, with our rifles, galloped towards them under the guidance of the little Tartar, taking care to keep the ridge between us. When within about three hundred yards of the spot, we dismounted, Lancaster, accompanied by Sylvia, making for the right of the rocks (which were about a mile in length and two hundred feet in height) while I took the left hand. Though less precipitous than the ridge we had crossed two days before, the ascent was too steep to be pleasant, especially when laden with a rifle in one hand, and having to lead a wilful and obstinate pony with the other.

We reached the summit in safety after a stiff climb. To any pony but Karra the ascent would have been impossible. Securing his bridle to a sharp edge of rock, I lay flat upon the ground, and crawled to the edge of the precipice, but there was nothing to be seen but bare sandy plain. Having watched for about five minutes, I was about to rise and take up a fresh position, when the crack of Lancaster’s rifle rang out some distance to the right. In another moment the whole herd, some sixty or seventy in number, came bounding by just underneath me. Picking out a fine buck, I took steady aim, fired, and had the satisfaction of seeing him drop on his forelegs. I thought for a second he was badly hit, but he only reeled to and fro once or twice, then with an effort regained his feet, and galloped on after the others, who were already almost out of sight. Seeing that he got over the ground but slowly and with difficulty, I determined to give chase, and, loosing Karra, we made our way helter-skelter down the cliff-side. Though the climb had taken us quite half an hour, the descent did not take more than three minutes. Some of the ledges were quite four feet high, with a landing on smooth slippery rock, but little Karra never once made a mistake. Arrived at the bottom of the cliff, I jumped on his back, and away we went full gallop after the wounded antelope, now just disappearing out of sight over a high ridge of sand a good distance off. My pony was even keener than I, and I never knew till that day what a little wonder he was. Fifteen days had we been in the desert, travelling day and night, and two days of that on short allowance of water and food, and yet here he was galloping as strong as a steam engine, and pulling and tearing at his bridle as if he had been in the stable for a month. What would he not have been worth in England! But quickly as we covered the distance to the ridge which had hidden the antelope from view, we were too late. No trace could we discover of him. The desert was here covered with innumerable sand-hills and depressions, and it is more than likely that he succeeded in hiding himself in one of these. We hunted about for some time, but without success. I dared not stop too long, for fear of losing the caravan, which I knew had not stopped during our absence. So, somewhat disappointed, I dismounted, and led Karra slowly back to the rocks where, as I thought, Lancaster and Sylvia were awaiting me. No trace of the caravan was now visible.

I took my time returning to the ridge, imagining that by this time my companions had seen me, and would not move till I came up to them. It seemed strange too that they should have abandoned their position, for on coming up to the right side of the rocks I found them gone. When, on riding the whole length of the ridge, shouting as I went, I saw no signs of them, the disagreeable truth flashed across me that they had departed altogether——a surmise which proved correct. In vain I searched every cleft and ravine, thinking they might have penetrated thither in search of wounded game; in vain I yelled myself hoarse, and blew the whistle which we always carried in view of this contingency, till I was black in the face; not a sound came in answer, but the echoes, which the innumerable creeks and gullies which riddled the place flung back to me. In one of the ravines, curiously enough, I came upon a tree, the first and only one we saw in the desert, or indeed since leaving Tsin W’hui Poo; it was but ten or twelve feet high, a kind of wild olive with gnarled trunk and scanty foliage. At any other time I should have stopped to examine it more closely, but that my mind was then running on matters very far removed from natural history. Every moment the awkwardness of my position grew more apparent. A thousand doubts and fears crowded on my mind, which the surroundings of the lone, desolate-looking place did not tend to reassure. At one moment I was for remaining where I was, but the next brought the reflection that Lancaster, having seen me riding for dear life in a S.W. direction, would probably direct the Mongols in that quarter, and never dream of returning to this bleak barren rock. One thing was certain, if the caravan did not rescue me, no one would, for this part of Gobi is as uninhabited and desolate as the interior of the Sahara itself.

Of a sudden the thought struck me to climb to the summit of the rocks, and as a last resource to scan the horizon from that altitude with the glasses I had fortunately brought with me. Securing Karra to the old tree, I again ascended to the top, this time not without some hard knocks and scratches, while the perspiration poured off me in my anxiety to lose no time. I was never without a compass in the desert, and had luckily taken the bearings of the rocks before we set out that morning. Allowing for time and distance, I found the caravan should now be N.N.W. from where I stood, and turning my glasses to the spot, discovered it to my great relief, on the very edge of the horizon, and hardly visible, even through the powerful glasses. To the naked eye it was invisible. First taking care to get my bearings right, I scrambled down, and, loosing Karra, galloped after it ventre à terre. In twenty minutes it was well in sight, and we were safe.

It was all owing to Sylvia, who had persuaded Lancaster to return, saying that I should without doubt join the caravan farther on. A Mongol failing is to think that strangers know their way about the desert as well as they do themselves. Lancaster had had no better luck than myself, so our day’s sport was hardly a success. We were a good deal disappointed, though not so much as our men, who had been looking forward to a meal of fresh roast meat, the gooroosh being excellent eating.