Departure from Hydrabad.
On the morning of the 23d of April, we embarked in the state barge of the Ameer, which is called a “jumtee” by the natives of the country. They are very commodious vessels, of the same build as the other flat-bottomed boats of the Indus, and sadly gainsayed the beggarly account which his Highness had, in his correspondence, so often given of the craft in the river. It was about sixty feet long, and had three masts, on which we hoisted as many sails, made of alternate stripes of red and white cloth. There were two cabins, connected with each other by a deck; but, contrary to the custom in other countries, the one at the bows is the post of honour. It was of a pavilion shape, covered with scarlet cloth, and the eyes of intruders were excluded on all sides by silken screens. The jumtee was further decorated by variegated flags and pendants, some of which were forty feet long. We hoisted the British ensign at the stern of our pinnace, the first time, I suppose, it had ever been unfurled on the Indus; and the little vessel which bore it out-sailed all the fleet. I hope the omen was auspicious, and that the commerce of Britain may soon follow her flag. We moved merrily through the water, generally with a fair wind, anchoring always at night, and pitching our camp on the shore, pleased to find ourselves beyond the portals of Hydrabad.
Sehwun.
We reached Sehwun on the 1st of May, a distance of 100 miles, in eight days. There was little to interest us on the banks of the river, which are thinly peopled, and destitute of trees or variety to diversify the scene. The Lukkee mountains, a high range, came in sight on the third day, running in upon the Indus at Sehwun. The stream itself, though grand and magnificent, was often divided by sand-banks, and moved sluggishly along at the rate of two miles and a half an hour. One of our boats had nearly sunk from coming in contact with a protruding stump; an accident of frequent occurrence on the Indus, as well as on the American rivers, and sometimes attended with fatal results, particularly to vessels descending the stream. Our escape from calamity gave the Sindians a topic for congratulation, and we daily heard the greatness of our fortune proclaimed. Every trivial incident, a slight breeze or any such occurrence, they did not hesitate to ascribe to our destiny.
Crew of the boat.
Our crew consisted of sixteen men; and a happy set of beings they were: they waded through the water all day, and swam and sported about, as they passed along, with joyous hearts, returning occasionally to the boat to indulge in the hooka, and the intoxicating “bang,” or hemp, to which they are much addicted. They prepare this drug by straining the juice from the seeds and stalks through a cloth: when ready for use, it resembles green putrid water. It must be very pernicious. I do not know if I can class their pipes among the movables of the ship; for their stands were formed of a huge piece of earthenware, too heavy to be lifted, which remains at the stern, where the individuals retire to inhale the weed, made doubly noxious by its being mixed with opium. The sailors of Sinde are Mahommedans. They are very superstitious, the sight of a crocodile below Hydrabad is an evil omen which would never be forgotten; and in that part of the Indus these monsters certainly confined themselves to the deep.
A Sindian song.
In the songs and chorus which the Sindians use in pulling their ropes and sails, we discover their reverence for saints. Seafaring people are, I believe, musical in all countries; and, though in a strange dialect, there is simplicity and beauty in some of the following rhymes:—
Original.
Hulam hulam hyl, Joomba lanee,