The party which had proceeded to the Orgunje camp, returned next morning with the deputy of the Yooz-bashee, or the Commander of an Hundred, and his very appearance made the hearts of the merchants thrill with fear. No taxes had been collected before this, and every thing was uncertain. The deputy was an elderly man, with a large “tilpak” stuck on his head, like a regimental cap. He was accompanied by a party of desert Toorkmuns, among whom was a chief, or “aksukal,” (literally, a white beard,) of the great tribe of Saruk. The merchants seated the deputation in the place of honour, addressed the deputy as he had been the Yooz-bashee himself, refreshed him with tea and tobacco (for they now smoked in public), and presented him with silks, cloths, raisins, and sugar, and then proceeded to display their merchandize. Every person made an offering, and we sent two handfuls of raisins and a bit of sugar as our homage. We sat at a short distance in our panniers, and witnessed the whole scene. The Yooz-bashee, as I also must call him, now spoke out to all the members of the caravan, and in the most candid language, said, that he had been directed to levy the lawful tax of one in forty, but that he would dispense with opening the bales. Truth, said he, had better be told; for, if I have reason to doubt any of you, I will then examine them, and you will experience the wrath of the Khan of Orgunje, my lord and master. This speech was listened to with terror; some, I believe, actually said that they had more goods than they really possessed; and, as far as I could judge, no one deviated from the truth. Pen and ink were called for, and the congress proceeded to make a list of the merchandize, which was no easy matter.
Precarious situation.
While the merchants were disputing about tillas, and flattering the Yooz-bashee, we had taken up a quiet position, and even pretended to be wrapped in sleep. I never was more awake in my life, and was near enough to hear and see every thing. There were several questions put regarding us, and the principal merchants spoke with earnestness and kindness. We had never instructed them, but they now chose to denominate us Hindoos from Cabool, who were proceeding on a pilgrimage to the flames of Bakoo, on the Caspian. We had been successively Englishmen, Afghans, Uzbeks, Armenians, and Jews, and they now denominated us Hindoos. These people are very simple; nor do they ever interrogate closely. Shortly after the subject of our character and objects had been discussed, the Toorkmun Aksukal rose from the party, and most unwelcomely seated himself by us. “Aksukal,” as I have said, means white beard, though this personage had a black enough plumage to his chin: he wore a splendid scarlet pelisse, and never did our national uniform appear to me more formidable than on his person; for he might have proved himself “a very Tartar” under his British colours. He spoke a little Persian, and said, “You are from Cabool?” to which I gave a nod of assent. The Doctor stretched himself back in his panier, and our visitor addressed himself to an Afghan, one of our people, of which I was glad, since it would keep up the illusion. It is said that the natives of Orgunje are, of all the tribes in Toorkistan, most hostile to Europeans, as well from their vicinity to Russia, as their knowledge that the Persians, who threaten their country, are assisted by them. They of course know nothing of the different nations of Europe, and look upon all Europeans as their enemies. I was not sorry when the Toorkmun chief selected another group, and that this patriarchal “white beard” had made no discovery, even after seeing us, and entering into conversation. The whole scene appeared to me a perfect riddle, for we ourselves had mixed with the Toorkmuns of our party as Europeans; and our real character was known to every individual of the caravan. Fear may have prevented some of them from making a full disclosure, but it was very creditable; since I have reason to believe that the people of the Orgunje Khan would not have willingly extended their favour towards us. We, however, had one instance of bad feeling, in a quarter where we least of all looked for it, at the hands of our Cafila-bashee. He required money to pay the just taxes on goods, which he had at the outset hoped to smuggle, and though all settlement had been made between us, and he had nearly received the full hire of his camels, he sent in the middle of the confusion to say, that the caravan would be detained on our account, if we did not lend him some tillas. What a moment, and what a trial for the temper. It was useless to complain of ungenerous treatment, and it would have been worse to show that we felt it. I considered a couple of tillas enough to give the wretch, though we had provided ourselves with some three hundred of them, which I knew might befriend us, where men are sold and bought like sheep. Evening advanced, and our transactions with the Orgunje Yooz-bashee drew to a close. The commander of a hundred carried off two hundred golden tillas, and all the merchants accompanied him to his horse, and saw him beyond the limits of our camp. Such is the dread of authority, and the power of the meanest man who wears it. In the dusk the merchants came to visit us, and to relate the affairs of the day over a cup of tea. We had to thank an Uzbek, named Ullahdad, and Abdool, a Persian; but we had to make some acknowledgment to all, for we had now become intimate with every body. Whenever the horsemen of the caravan passed us on the road, they would shout out to us, “Ah, Meerza! how are you?” with all the consecutive compliments of their language. Little did many of them know, that the name of “Meerza Sikunder,” or the secretary Alexander, which they had given me, was so well merited; since I took every opportunity that I secretly could to use the pen and ink, and give a secretary’s account of all their proceedings. On this day I felt pleased with mankind, for we were now free to prosecute our journey. The Bokharees assured me that they were interested in our favour, from the commands of their minister the Koosh Begee; and the Persians, of whom there were many in the caravan, dreaded the friendship between Abbas Meerza and the English. Individually, I did not presume to believe that either of these great personages bestowed much care upon us, but it was pleasant to know that such were the opinions of our companions.
CHAP. XIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE JOURNEY IN THE TOORKMUN DESERT.
River of Merve.
On the morning of the 29th of August we moved at dawn, with buoyant spirits, and followed the course of the Moorghab, or river of Merve, for twelve miles before we could cross it. We found it about eighty yards wide and five feet deep, running within steep clayey banks, at the rate of five miles an hour. We crossed by an indifferent ford, over a clay bottom with many holes. There was no village; but the place is called Uleesha. This river rises on the mountains of Huzara, and was long believed to fall into the Oxus or the Caspian. Both opinions are erroneous, since it forms a lake, or loses itself in one, about fifty miles N.W. of Merve. This river was formerly dammed above Merve, which turned the principal part of its waters to that neighbourhood, and raised that city to the state of richness and opulence which it once enjoyed. The dam was thrown down about forty-five years ago, by Shah Moorad, a king of Bokhara, and the river only now irrigates the country in its immediate vicinity, where it is covered with the tenements, or “obas,” of the Toorkmuns; for there are no fixed villages. These people cultivate by irrigation, and every thing grows in rich luxuriance. The Juwaree (holcus sorghum) has a stalk thicker than a walking-stick, and in the uncultivated parts there is the richest fodder for cattle and the finest thorny shrubs for the camel, an animal which is here found in vast herds. Above Merve the country is called Maroochak, and said to be unhealthy: there is a proverb, at least, which runs thus,—“Before God gets intelligence, the water of Maroochak has killed the man.”[2] This river is the Epardus of Arrian, a word which, I observe in one author, is said to mean irrigator,—nor is it here misapplied. The historian would even appear to have been acquainted with its course; for we are told that the Epardus “hides its streams in the sand, as did many other great rivers.”[3]
Amusements.
The transition which we had experienced, from a sandy desert to the verge of a running stream, was most gratifying; every one seemed delighted, and even the animals appeared to feel the change. Throughout the day the banks presented a spectacle of merriment and joy; the Toorkmuns plunging into the water with their horses, and the greater part of the caravan sporting about in the stream. We hit upon a contrivance, which contributed not a little to our sport, and produced a “tunga,” or the third part of a rupee, which was to be the reward of the person who could first cross the river. The enormous sum was solemnly vested in a committee; I believe even the blessing was said; and sixteen competitors appeared on the occasion. It was won by a Toorkmun of Shurukhs, who had the art of running quickest in the deep water.