From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

The morning of the next day (July 25th) was cold and cloudy. We crossed, an hour after starting, a large salt-marsh, with tufts of half-withered grass growing here and there. The ponies fared badly, but the camels managed all right, as I verily believe they would do in a crater. Though this marsh is deep in rainy weather, and very difficult to get over, there had, luckily, been no rain for some time, and we crossed it without difficulty, the ground being hard, and covered with evaporated salt, giving the desert the appearance of a huge snow-field. Beyond this, vegetation again ceased, and we entered on a tract of gravelly country. Some low green hills now appeared on the horizon——the plains and rich pastures of Toogoorook, at which yourt the hardest part of our desert journey would be virtually over.

We encamped midday at the foot of a steep and barren rock, about one thousand feet high, on the banks of a large lake of dirty, brackish water, as wild and desolate a spot as can well be imagined. Huge vultures and other carrion birds flew hither and thither about the rocks and ravines, while the dismal and incessant croaking of the frogs among the withered sedges that fringed the black, melancholy-looking water made the place anything but a cheerful spot for an encampment. The further end of the lake swarmed with wild fowl, and we succeeded, after dinner, in bagging a couple of sheldrake, though they were so shy, it was only with great difficulty we could get near them. We also shot an enormous vulture, seven feet broad from one wing-tip to the other; but he smelt so, we had to have him carried some distance away from the caravan. This was explained by the partially devoured remains of a camel we afterwards passed a few hundred yards from camp. The brink of the lake was strewn with the bleached bones of these animals, which did not contribute to make the coup-d’œil more cheerful.

Towards evening we sighted a large herd of antelope on the horizon, but they saw us, and were off long before we could give chase.

About five o’clock it came on to rain and blow as it only can in Gobi. I do not think I ever spent a more wretched night. The storm became so bad that the camels would not face it, and we had to stop and pitch tents at ten o’clock, three hours before the usual time. Several attempts were made to light a fire, but without success, for the wind not only blew it out, but the wretched, flimsy tent down on top of it, Mongols and all. We consoled ourselves as best we could with a nip of whisky (of which we had one bottle left), and turned into our carts to make the best of it. But even our sheepskins were next to useless in the keen wind that whistled through the rents and chinks of the canvas cart roofs as if they had been sieves. About midnight the rain came down again in sheets, and in less than half an hour was streaming in upon us, like a shower-bath. We were wet through in less than ten minutes, and then abandoned the idea of rest or sleep altogether.

If the night had been miserable, the morning was far worse. We were perfectly willing to start; anything was preferable to sitting in our carts, listening to the ceaseless pattering of the rain and looking out of the narrow window at the misty, dreary landscape; but the Mongols were obdurate. Nothing upsets them like rain or getting wet, presumably because they never wash, and Moses steadfastly refused to move till the weather cleared, which it showed no signs whatever of doing. Our men had managed to rig the tent up again, and all three lay inside, packed like sardines, with every aperture tightly closed. I tried to read, but soon had to give it up, my head shook so with the cold. Worse still, we had exhausted our last scrap of tobacco, and could not bring ourselves to venture on the hay-like filth that Sylvia offered us. Still, it showed the little Tartar’s unselfishness, for he had but a pipeful left to last him on to Ourga, and there is no race in the world so devoted to the fragrant weed.

About two o’clock it mended a little, and the sun, which had all the morning been invisible, began to struggle through the grey, watery clouds. So sudden are the changes of temperature and weather in the desert that by 3 p.m. the sky was blue and cloudless, and the sun too hot to be pleasant. We were not sorry to get out again, and dry ourselves in the warm rays which took the stiffness out of our cramped and aching limbs. We suffered but little from vermin, which up till now had been one of our greatest annoyances, after this. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good;” and perhaps they were all drowned!

Starting at 7 p.m., we travelled all night, and by morning every trace of sand and gravel had disappeared, and we were in the grass plains again——where our ponies fairly revelled in the fresh, rich pasture. Sylvia was despatched to a yourt some five miles distant to buy a camel in place of the one we had lost, and as he was not expected back till six o’clock, we enjoyed a good sleep all the afternoon, not before we wanted it. We had had none for two nights.

The camel arrived in due course. He was a snow-white one, of mild and benign appearance. Lancaster took a great fancy to him, and insisted in having him harnessed to his cart. I noticed a look in the beast’s eye, whenever he was pushed about or touched more roughly than usual, that boded no good. However, we were assured that he was all that could be desired, and took Sylvia’s word for it. We started again that evening, with our new purchase in Lancaster’s cart. Although the night was fine and starlit, with a lovely moon, I turned into my cart early, for the plain was as smooth and unbroken as a lawn-tennis ground, and I did not despair of getting a really good night’s rest, and probably should have had one, but for an unforeseen accident that, ridiculous and laughable as it now seems, might have had a very serious, if not fatal result. I was rudely awoke about 2 a.m. by Jee Boo, who bursting open my door, entreated me to come out at once. One is easily unnerved in the desert, and apt to fancy things, so much so that for a moment I thought a mutiny had broken out among the Mongols, and, seizing my revolver and pouch, jumped out on to the moonlit plain. The sight that greeted my eyes caused me at first to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, in which, however, the Mongols, who were helplessly assembled round my cart, did not join. Like them, I also soon realized how seriously the affair might end. Lancaster’s camel had run away, and was scouring the plain in a way that plainly showed if we ever intended seeing him again we had better catch him at once. The ponies were all unsaddled, but Sylvia and I jumped upon ours barebacked, and galloped away as hard as we could lay legs to the ground after the refractory beast, whose white body, followed by the cart swaying madly to and fro, was rapidly disappearing in the dim, shadowy distance. It had happened in a second. Sylvia, having left his cart for a moment, which was leading, the cunning brute had taken advantage of his absence to break with one jerk the string that fastened his cart to the next camel. When our driver returned, he found the caravan halted and his new purchase making tracks across the plain in, strange to say, the direction of the yourt we had bought him from.

The best description I have ever read of a camel’s pace when at full speed is given by the late Colonel Burnaby, in “A Ride to Khiva,” where he says: “A camel’s gait is a peculiar one. They go something like a pig with the fore, and like a cow with the hind, legs.” This does not sound like speed, but the pace at which these brutes get over the ground is something more than remarkable, and it took us all our time, to get up to Lancaster’s cart, who was, to use a sporting expression, “going strong!” The frantic bounds the cart was taking beggars description. I thought every second it would overturn, for the brute whirled it about as if it had been a match-box. I could see Lancaster in the moonlight at the open door, evidently meditating a jump, so shouted to him to remain where he was. The ground was rough and stony, and to fall might have meant a broken limb, which would have placed us in an awkward predicament. It was some time before we managed to stop the runaway by each getting one side of, and riding into, him. I never could have believed a camel had such a turn of speed. Sylvia caught the nose string, and we secured him at last, and got him back to the caravan without further mishap. He was relegated to the water-barrels in future. It was thought the weight might steady him, and it did, for we were troubled with no more of his pranks.

The plains next day were more thickly inhabited and the pasture more luxuriant than in any part of the desert yet traversed. We passed several yourts, from which the inhabitants rode out to meet us with presents of milk and a kind of cheese made of mare’s milk. They seemed cleaner and better-mannered than the Mongols the other side, and did not (for a wonder) ask us for anything. Their yourts, too, were cleaner, their sheep and ponies better looking than others we had seen.