The second incident at Akra was of a still more farcical character. A Kurd had come in from the mountains in order to purchase a mule, and after a good deal of chaffering had traded off a pistol in exchange. The seller had promptly proceeded to test the purchase money by the rather drastic method of firing a bullet through his leg; and, on the accident being reported to us, we had deemed it our duty to go and volunteer “first aid.” The patient, however, was quite content with his own remedies, and not at all anxious to experiment in new-fangled treatment a la Franga. He was plugging the hole himself with a mixture of butter and cow dung which he was poking in with a stick! Probably this dressing possesses some kind of antiseptic qualities; for it is much favoured in the mountains, and somehow does not seem to prevent the wounds healing. But perhaps the cure results not by virtue, but in spite, of the remedy, for with these tough-fibred mountaineers “first intention” will hardly be denied.[{134}]
CHAPTER VII
AN ORIENTAL VICH IAN VOHR
(THE SHEIKH OF BARZAN)
“IT is real rough travelling in the mountains,” says the Mosul resident casually; and the traveller just arrived from Europe hears that innocent observation with dismay. He has undergone a fortnight of arabas and khans and chóls and zaptiehs, and lo! that purgatorial experience is dismissed as a holiday jaunt. It is therefore with some misgiving that he enters those formidable mountains where he has been promised enlightenment as to what “real rough travelling” means.
Let it be recorded for his consolation that he will learn the worst at the outset. If he is not daunted at Akra he may quite fairly count on winning through. The ascent from that town to the top of the pass behind it is as nasty a bit of climbing as any in all Hakkiari, and he who achieves it with credit may pass as a graduated mountaineer. The path is not so nerve-shaking in appearance as some of the dizzy goat-tracks that have to be encountered beyond it; but it is an epitome of every trial which can be ordinarily presented in concrete form. It is steep and rugged and rotten. It traverses slabs of sloping rock, and sheets of slippery scree. Its surface is pitted like honeycomb with holes about twelve inches deep and six or eight inches in diameter; and if any better traps could be devised for tripping unwary pedestrians, or breaking the legs of horses, no doubt they would be provided to make the entanglement complete. Our katarjis admit that it is bad, but regard the badness as incorrigible. “Her nainsell didna mak ta road” (a fact that is quite self-evident), and “if shentlemans[{135}] are seeking ta Red Gregarach” what better going can they expect?
From the summit of the pass (full three thousand feet above the plain) we descend into a fertile valley, well watered by a mountain rivulet, and feathery with lofty pampas reed; and an equal ascent on the further side brings us to the top of a second range of mountains, from which we can take our first survey of the wild land whither we are bound.
Beneath us lies the Zab valley, a chaos of hummocks and hollows all flung together confusedly like the waves of a choppy sea; and the broad bright ribbon of the river, almost equal in volume to the Tigris, picks out a devious passage through a maze of interlacing bluffs. The opposite side of the chasm is defined by a bold escarpment, scarred by the tracks of winter torrents and buttressed by jagged limestone fins. And above this, along the horizon, tower the great snow peaks of the Hakkiari Oberland—the rigidus Niphates of Horace; the spot where (according to Milton) Satan first planted his feet when he alighted on the new-made world.
An iron-bound untamable fastness—a regular Brigands’ Paradise—it is known as the Ashiret country, that is to say, “the Country of the Clans.” And the inhabitants (to do them justice) are quite ready to exploit its capabilities. Though nominally Turkish subjects they are actually semi-independent; half borderers of the type of Johnny Armstrong, half highlanders of the type of Rob Roy. Here the Sultan’s decrees are worth little without a visible backing of bayonets; and every individual filibuster does that which is right—or more accurately that which is expedient—in his own eyes. Such authority as exists anywhere is for the most part in the hands of the tribal chieftains: and the suzerainty of the Stamboul Government is just about as effective as the suzerainty of the old kings of Scotland on the north side of Stirling Bridge.
There are three degrees of security for a traveller in Asiatic Turkey. There are districts where he is safe: there are districts where a zaptieh can keep him safe: and there[{136}] are districts where a zaptieh can’t. Our knights-errant brought us down loyally to the village of Biri Kupra, a ramshackle Kurdish hamlet which stands at the foot of the pass. They escorted us on the next morning as far as the banks of the river—but when we reached the ferry their responsibility came to an end. Across they could not follow us. It was the Sheikh of Barzan’s country. And the Hukumet felt some delicacy about parading their officials in his domain. No doubt he would receive them graciously—under favour and without prejudice; but there was no earthly use in pretending that zaptiehs could protect us there.
It is rather an adventure for a native to travel in the Ashiret country. Supposing that he is at all worth robbing, he should sound his way carefully as he goes. But Europeans enjoy more security. The tribesmen have made the discovery that if a European is molested there is almost inevitably a row. His ambassador prods up the Hukumet, and the Hukumet sends an expedition; and “a mort o’ troops” march through the country, and live at free quarters in the villages, and imprison a number of people who are probably not at all to blame. Thus, though the original aggressor is generally the last person to be directly incommoded, he incurs quite a lot of unpopularity for “breeding such a function” in the land. Even the most reckless marauder will think twice before pulling his trigger upon a convoy that is travelling under the protection of a European hat: and thus the wearer of the hat aforesaid finds that every native who is travelling in his direction will tack himself on to his party and “walk under his shadow” as far as their ways coincide.
We ourselves in the present instance had no cause for any disquietude; for the Sheikh of Barzan is not only one of the most powerful but one of the most respectable of the mountain chieftains, and is pleased to regard all Englishmen as his particular friends.