CHAPTER IX.
TERRIBLE GUN ACCIDENT—WE SEND OUT SCOUTS.
We were still favoured with wonderfully fine weather. About this time the wind would blow from the east in the morning, and afterwards from the west, if there were any wind at all.
During our halt, we sent out men to the north and to the south, to try and find some signs of nomads, while we ourselves sallied forth in search of game. The total result of all our exertions was nil. The men who went south spoke only of a hilly country with grass and no water, and the northerners reported that after crossing a broad grassy valley they came to a range of hills, and that on the other side flowed our lost river, then consisting of a small stream running south-east in the centre of a very large sandy nullah; that still further off was another range of hills but no grass. We could not put much faith in the assertion of having found our lost river, which must have been still further north.
There is a place marked as a town in our map, called Barkhalu, which we intended to try and steer for by keeping as nearly as possible on the line of its exact latitude. From our present camp we reckoned that it was about a week's journey off. With such expectations, we endeavoured to keep up our men's spirits, and to induce them to double their exertions. It was always a difficult task to get them up of a morning in time to load the animals for an early start, and upon their doing this our success greatly depended. In order to make a start at 4.30 a.m., the camp would have to wake up very soon after three, and unless Malcolm or I awoke, the camp would go slumbering on till sunrise. But when we knew it depended upon ourselves, one of us generally managed to wake up in time. As the men had returned unsuccessful from their search for people after one day, there was no need to stop two, especially as all were eager to get on to Barkhalu. At our first halt for grass and digging operations, the sand-grouse came over in fair numbers and did well for our breakfast. Ahead of us a range of hills obscured an extensive view, although they did not appear of a very formidable nature, differing from those ranges to our north and south. The very feeling of not being able to see our onward course made us all the more eager to surmount the obstacle, peep over the other side, and see what lay in store for us.
On the 27th of June, Camp 39, we marched up the hills that hid our view and camped near the summit, where the water was brackish and purging. We inspected our men's rations, and found there was only sufficient to last them twenty-five days more, and as to ourselves, our consumption would have to be curtailed to one pound a day between the two of us, so as to last out for the same length of time. We all hoped to reach Barkhalu and there lay in fresh supplies, and we felt that if we could not find the place, our difficulties would be hard to overcome. From this summit we made a very early start at 4 a.m. I went on ahead, as it was my turn, finding it fairly plain sailing, considering it was not yet light. It was my intention to reach some point of vantage, whence I could get a good view as soon as there was sufficient light. Below me was an expanse of uneven, barren, sandy country, and the haze prevented me from seeing at all far.
As I was finding a way over these low mounds, I looked back, as was my wont, to see how far the caravan had come, when I noticed that Esau, a long way off, was coming towards me all alone, but, thinking little of it, I went on again to another bit of rising ground. There was Esau still alone, and on using my glasses I saw that he was first walking, then running; no doubt he wanted me. I waved my handkerchief and waited. On he came faster than before, so that when he reached me, he was so breathless from his exertion and feverish agitation, that it was some minutes before he could come out with even a single word. His first utterance was, "Shot—gun." It struck me that something terrible might have happened; all sorts of things entered my head, and the worst thought of all—had Malcolm met with an accident? I made Esau sit down, and as soon as he had grown calmer, he told me that our cook, Lassoo, had been carrying a shot gun, and that Mahomed Rahim had tried to take it from him. Whilst they were struggling for the loaded weapon, off went the trigger, and the contents of the cartridge had blown away the lower half of the face of one of the muleteers, by name Sulloo, who was marching only a couple of yards off at the time.
I hurried back as fast as possible, only hoping that Esau, like many other people, had been carried away by his own imagination, and greatly exaggerated the truth. I thought it quite possible that the man might have been wounded, and at first sight that Esau had on the spur of the moment concluded that half the man's face had been blown away. I soon met the caravan, still coming along with most of the men, but their long faces and downcast looks told me too clearly that there had been some sad mishap. They told me that Malcolm had remained with Sulloo to doctor him up and give him brandy, and had sent on the caravan, with orders to halt at the very first spot where water could be got. It seemed to me that at the place where we met water could be obtained by digging, so the animals were at once unloaded and set free.
On my way further back to the scene of the disaster I met Malcolm coming towards me. He explained to me how the poor man had completely lost the lower half of his face, and how he had done his best for him in the way of bandaging and doctoring. It was impossible for him to walk or ride, so the men took back one of our bamboo beds, whereon to bring him into camp. Whilst they were away on this errand, Malcolm and I set to work to dig for water, the toughest dig we had had, and as the water could be only taken out by cupfuls it was a very tedious business before the animals had had sufficient to drink. The water, too, was very brackish, and almost undrinkable.
In the meantime Sulloo had been brought in, and we found the most effective solution in the way of soothing his pain was cyona and water. The poor fellow was most plucky over it, and implored to be merely left where he was to die. His only thought was that somebody owed him twenty rupees, and he wanted this money to go to his brother, and not to the woman he had married the day before he had set out from Leh! And there was no one else he cared about. We had certainly fallen into a most distressing fix. We could not help wishing that it might be so willed that the unfortunate man should die quietly that same morning. We could then have buried him, and marched away from the sad calamity to fresh scenes. As one of our men, Shukr Ali, philosophically remarked, it would only be his "kismet." Should, on the other hand, the man live, for all that, it was not in our power to remain where we were, for in that case the small store of rations would have soon been eaten up, and when they were gone there was nothing to follow, as far as we could see, but starvation. "We must shove on and find people" had been our daily axiom for some time, and to halt more than was absolutely necessary for the strength of the mules would be entirely fatal. Yet it was our duty, it we possibly could, to keep the man alive, and we knew it, too. We were in a most unpleasant situation; whichever course we adopted was equally hateful to us.