KERVANBASHI INSISTS THAT AUTHOR SHOULD TAKE NO NOTES

EID MEHEMMED AND HIS BROTHER'S NOBLE CONDUCT

GUIDE LOSES HIS WAY

KÖRENTAGHI, ANCIENT RUINS, PROBABLY GREEK

LITTLE AND GREAT BALKAN

ANCIENT BED OF THE OXUS

VENDETTA

SUFFERINGS FROM THIRST.

C'Était une obscuritÉ vaste comme la mer, au sein de laquelle le guide s'Égarait . . . oÙ pÉrit le voyageur effrayÉ .--Victor Hugo, from Omaiah hen Aiedz.

[Kervanbashi insists that Author should take no Notes]

Without being able to discover the slightest trace of a path indicated by foot of camel or hoof of other animal, our karavan proceeded towards the north, directing its course in the day by the sun, and at night by the pole star. The latter is called by the Turkomans, from its immovability, Temir kazik (the iron peg). The camels were attached to one another in a long row, and led by a man on foot; and, although there was no positive place of honour, it was regarded as a certain sort of distinction to be placed near the Kervanbashi. The districts on the further side of Etrek, which form the foreground of the Great Desert, are indicated by the name of Bogdayla. We proceeded for two hours after sunset over a sandy bottom, which was not however particularly loose, and which presented an undulating, wavy surface, in no place of much elevation. By degrees the sand disappeared, and about midnight we had so firm a clayey soil under us, {91} that the regulated tread of the distant camels echoed as if some one was beating time in the still night. The Turkomans name such spots Takir; and as the one on which we were had a reddish colour, it bore the name Kizil-takir. We marched uninterruptedly till it was nearly dawn of day; altogether we had hardly advanced six miles, as they did not wish at the outset to distress the camels, but especially because the greatest personages in our company of travellers were unquestionably the buffaloes, of which one was in an interesting situation, and could not with her unwieldy body keep up even with the ordinary step of the camel,--consequently there was a halt for repose until eight o'clock in the morning; and whilst the camels were eating their fill of thistles and other plants of the desert, we had time to take our breakfast, which had not yet ceased to be luxurious, as our skins were still richly stored with fresh water, and so our heavy unleavened bread slipped down aided by its sweet draughts. As we had encamped close together, I remarked that the Kervanbashi, Ilias, and the chiefs of my companions, were conversing, and, as they did so, kept casting glances at me. It was easy for me to divine the subject of their conversation. I pretended, however, to pay no attention; and after having for some time fervently turned over the leaves of the Koran, I made a movement as if I had proposed to take part in the conversation. When I had approached a few steps, I was met by honest Ilias and Hadji Salih, who called me aside and told me that the Kervanbashi was making many objections to my joining him on the journey to Khiva, my appearance seeming suspicious to him; and he particularly feared the anger of the Khan, as he had some years before {92} conducted a Frenghi envoy to Khiva, who, in that single journey, took off a faithful copy of the whole route, and with his diabolical art had not forgotten to delineate any well or any hill on the paper. This had very much incensed the Khan; he had had two men executed who had betrayed information, and the Kervanbashi himself had only escaped with his life owing to the intercession of influential persons. 'After many objections,' said my friends, 'that we could not leave thee here behind in the desert, we have so far prevailed with him that he will take thee with him on the condition that thou wilt, first, permit thyself to be searched to see if thou hast any drawings or wooden pens (lead pencils), as the Frenghis generally have; and secondly that thou promise to take away with thee no secret notes respecting the hills and routes, for in the contrary case thou must remain behind, were we even in the midst of the desert.'

I heard all with the greatest patience, and, when they had finished, I played the part of one very angry, turned round to Hadji Salih, and, speaking so loud that the Kervanbashi could not fail to hear, said: 'Hadji, thou sawest me in Teheran and knowest who I am; tell Amandurdi (the name of the chief of our karavan) that it was by no means becoming in him as an honest man to lend ear to a drunken Binamaz (one who does not repeat his prayers) like the Afghan. We must not jest with religion, and he shall never again have an opportunity to assail one in so dangerous a particular; for he shall learn in Khiva to know with whom he has to deal.' The last words uttered with great violence, so as to be heard through the whole karavan, caused my colleagues, particularly the poorer ones, to grow very warm, and had I {93} not restrained them they would have assailed Emir Mehemmed, the malicious Afghan. The person most surprised by this zeal of theirs was the Kervanbashi himself; and I heard how he always contrived to repeat, in answer to the very different representations that were made to him, the same words, 'KhudaÏm bilir!' (God knows!) He was an extremely honest, good-humoured man, an Oriental however, disposed, not so much out of malice as fondness for mysteries, to discover in me, any how and at all events, a stranger in disguise; and this, although he allowed himself on the one side to receive instruction from me in many a point of religion, and even in GÖmÜshtepe had heard that I was acquainted with many books. My artful manoeuvre had, as I have said, diminished my danger; but I still saw to my great regret that the injurious suspicion increased with every step, and that I should have the greatest difficulty in talking even the shortest notes of my journey. I was very much annoyed at not daring to put any questions as to the names of the different stations; for however immense the desert, the nomads inhabiting the various oases have affixed a specific designation to every place, every hill, and every valley, so that if exactly informed I might have marked each place on the map of Central Asia. Cunning has to be employed against cunning, and the scanty notices which I have been able to collect respecting the route is the fruit of an artifice with which I will not weary the reader. What bitter disappointment, what annoyance, must not the traveller feel who, after having through long struggles and great perils reached at length the fountain he longs for, cannot even then slake his thirst!{94}

[Eid Mehemmed and his Brother's noble Conduct]

After the lapse of eight hours, we again set out; but our march, after having proceeded without interruption for two hours, gradually slackened. Some of the Turkomans dismounted, and occupied themselves busily to the right and to the left in carefully examining the smaller hills. As I learnt afterwards, one of our travelling companions, Eid Mehemmed, was desirous of discovering the tomb of his brother, who had fallen here in a combat the previous year. He had also brought a coffin with him to transport the corpse to Khiva. It may have been about two o'clock in the afternoon when we stopped. They found the grave, and applied themselves to the task of opening it. After having laid the half-putrid body in the coffin and packed it in felt, accompanying the operation with recitations of the usual prayers and citations from the Koran, in which I also had to take my part, we were treated with the details of the combat by an eye-witness. The intention of this man was to do honour to the departed, for praise such as he bestowed none but the noblest of men could deserve. 'We had in our karavan,' said the speaker, 'several Persians, journeying from Khiva to Astrabad, and amongst them there was a very wealthy merchant, named Mollah Kaszim, from the city last named. He had for years been engaged in the traffic carried on between Persia and Khiva, and, having constant occasion to visit the latter country, was the guest of the deceased, and consequently under the safeguard of his hospitality, both in Khiva and in the desert. It so happened that last year he was returning home with a large sum of money, and although dressed as a Turkoman, and perfectly familiar with our language, his presence amongst us was detected by the Haramzadeh (bastards) of Etrek. They hastened to meet {95} and assail us. In number they were superior, but in spite of that we maintained a combat that lasted eight hours. After we had killed two of their number, they called to us to surrender the fat Persian dog, thereby meaning Mollah Kaszim, and that the fight would be at an end, for that they wanted nothing from us. That no one of us, still less the departed one, was disposed to consent to this, may readily be imagined; and although the Persian himself, who feared the balls hissing about in all directions, begged that the fighting might be put an end to, and was desirous of surrendering himself as a prisoner, the battle had to be fought out. Soon afterwards he' (and he pointed to the corpse) 'was pierced by a bullet. He fell from his horse, and the few words that he was able to utter were to the effect that he commended his guest, the Persian, who was sobbing all the time like a child with terror, to his brother Eid Mehemmed. Under the leadership of the latter we continued the contest till the morning, when the robbers retreated, with loss. After having buried the deceased here, we travelled on, and three days afterwards the Persian was conducted to Astrabad.'

[Guide loses his Way]

In commemoration of the sad event, Eid Mehemmed had bread baked here also, which he shared amongst us. We then started, keeping to the north, and proceeding through a great sterile plain. To make up for our loss of time we were obliged to journey the whole night without interruption. The weather was lovely, and, cowering in my basket, I long amused myself with the beautiful starry heavens, more beautiful and more sublime in the desert than anywhere else. I was at last overcome by sleep. Perhaps I had scarcely reposed an hour, when I was harshly roused {96} from my slumber, and heard on all sides the cry, 'Hadji, look to thy Kiblenuma (compass), we seem to have lost our way.' I awoke, and saw by the light of a piece of burning tinder that we were going in an easterly direction, instead of a northerly. The Kervanbashi, alarmed, fearing our vicinity to the dangerous marshes, issued the command that we should not stir from the spot till the dawn of day. Luckily we had only swerved from the right course about half-an-hour previously, at a moment when the sky was overcast. In despite of the delay we reached the appointed station, and our wearied beasts were let loose to make their meal upon the thorns and thistles. In the spot where we were encamped I saw with astonishment that my companions collected a great number of carrots, half a foot long, of the thickness of the thumb, and particularly well-flavoured and sweet. The inner part, however, was as hard as wood, and was uneatable, as was also the wild garlic, which we found here in large quantities. I seized the opportunity of giving myself a feast, boiling a good portion of carrots for my breakfast, and storing away a quantity in my girdle.

To-day (May 15) our way passed through a wild district cut up with ditches. I heard it said that each journey it assumes a different form, and presents different difficulties from the numerous steep places.

The poor camels, some of them laden with very heavy burdens, suffered exceedingly--the dry sand giving way under their feet; so that having continually to mount and descend, they could hardly get a firm footing. It is remarkable that it is the custom here to fasten their annuals with a cord, one end of which is attached to the tail of the creature that precedes, the other to the {97} perforated nose of the one that follows; and it is very painful to see how, as they are all so bound together, if one of the beasts in the line stands still a moment, the line in front continues to move on till the cord is torn away from the animal behind, who suffers thereby dreadful torture. To spare the poor animals we all dismounted where the route was bad, as to-day; and although my sufferings were great in the deep sand, I was forced to walk on foot four hours, although slowly, still without a halt. Plodding on thus, I several times came in contact with the Kervanbashi, who, after my last spirited conduct, loaded me with politeness; his nephew, a young frank-hearted Turkoman from Khiva, seemed to be particularly fond of my society. He had not seen his young wife since the year before, and his conversation always turned upon his Ova (tent), as the rules of Islamite politeness obliged him to name the object of his affections. [Footnote 21] Khali Mollah (this was his name) reposed the fullest confidence in my character as a Dervish. I was very much surprised when he requested me to search in my Koran a Fal or prognostic regarding his family. I made the usual hocus pocus, shut my eyes, and fortunately opened the book at a place where women are spoken of (for the passages Mumenin and Mumenat frequently recur), in which my explanation of the Arabian text--for here is the whole art--enchanted the young Turkoman. He thanked me, and I was delighted to find that I had won his friendship.

[Footnote 21: According to the precepts of Islam, it is very unbecoming to speak of one's wife, metaphors are used to express the idea, where the whole is taken to designate the part (totum pro parte). Accordingly, the Turk in society names his wife Harem, Familia; Tcholuk Tschodjuck; the Persian terms her Khane or Ayal Ü avlad, the former expression meaning house, the latter wife's child; the Turkoman, Ova; the central Asiatic, Balachaka, meaning children.]{98}

Up to the present moment it was not clear which of the three ways the karavan would follow. The concealment of plan is in this country especially necessary, as one is never a single moment safe from surprise; and although nothing was said, it was still plain to all that the middle way would be chosen, for our water supply was running short, and necessity would force us, on the morrow at latest, to make for a well, which is only accessible provided peaceable relations permit the Yomut shepherd to penetrate thither from Ataboz. Our evening march was a successful one; the camel-chain was not often rent asunder, or if any such accident occurred it was observed before the lapse of many minutes, and men were sent back to look up the missing animals. The karavan continued its march; and in order that the individual sent out in the dark night might not lose his way, one of the followers of the karavan had the particular duty assigned to him of holding with the other a dialogue at a distance, so that the words, which echoed sadly in the gloomy night, served as a guide; and yet woe to the wretch in case a contrary wind renders the sound inaudible!

[KÖrentaghi, Ancient Ruins, probably Greek.]

The next morning (May 16) we discovered, in a north-easterly direction, the mountainous chain called the KÖrentaghi. The buffalo-cow, near her time, compelled us all to adopt a slow pace, and it was afternoon before we approached close enough to be able to distinguish the outline of the lower part of the mountain. When in Etrek, we had heard that this was the spot where, on account of the prevailing sentiments in favour of peace, we should meet Yomuts; still they {99} were not perfectly assured, and the greatest anxiety existed to know whether the news of a peace would be confirmed, or whether, in case the mountains were abandoned, we might not be surprised by some hostile horde. A courageous Turkoman was sent on to ascertain how matters stood, and his progress was watched by all with anxious eyes. Fortunately, as we approached, the different tents were distinguished, the alarm was dissipated, and the only desire was, to learn to what tribe the encampment belonged. Whilst my fellow-travellers amused themselves with the view of the KÖrentaghi and its green valleys, my heart beat within me for joy, as I believed that I was approaching ruins, probably of Greek origin, which extended in a westerly direction from the above-named mountain. At the moment when the latter became visible, I had remarked to the south-west a single pillar, which from the distance produced upon the eye the effect of an animated colossal figure. As we mounted the plateau higher and higher I discerned, in the same direction, a second column, somewhat thicker than the former, but not so elevated, and now close to the mountain. I had the ruins, known as the Meshedi Misriyan, so near to me on the left that I was able even to distinguish the particular parts with precision. As none but Yomuts were encamped here, it was resolved to make it a rest-day, and to employ it for the purchase of some camels. This accorded fully with my own wish, as it afforded me the opportunity of beholding the ruins from a closer proximity.

The next morning (May 17) I started, accompanied by Ilias and some of the pilgrims. I was obliged to use many pretexts to induce the latter to visit a spot which they would have preferred avoiding {100} as the abode of Djins (genii). It was distant about half a league from our encampment, although the high walls of the square building, as well as the two entire and the two half-ruined towers in form of domes, seemed to be nearer to us. Around these, and encircling the high wall, from six to eight feet broad and from forty to fifty high, there is a lower one, on the south side, quite in ruins, which must have served as an outwork to the fort, still erect; I regard the entire construction, as it rises amongst the other heaps of dilapidation, as a fortress of ancient date; and I think, to complete its system of defence, its builders must have formed the aqueduct, which runs in a south-westerly direction as far as the Persian chain of mountains, whence it brought hither to the fortress water, for drinking purposes, a distance of 150 English miles.

My acquaintance with archaeology and architecture being limited, I admit my incompetency to form any precise judgment respecting ruins, certainly of high interest, except that I believe myself justified in affirming them to be of Greek origin, because I have found the square bricks which compose them to resemble exactly, in quality, size, and colour, those of GÖmÜshtepe, and the Kizil Alan (Alexander's wall). [Footnote 22]

[Footnote 22: The Turkomans recounted, with respect to the ruins, that God, from especial love to the brave Turkomans, had placed the Kaaba first here instead of transporting it to Arabia, but that a green devil, who was at the same time lame, named GÖkleng (green hobbler) from whom the GÖklens were descended, had destroyed it. 'The insolent act of their ancestor is the reason,' added the savage etymologist, 'why we live in hostility with that tribe.']{101}

Besides these, I remarked a group of other ruins on the north summit of the KÖrentaghi. We passed them by night, and as far as I could distinguish in the obscurity, there are six separate dome-like chapels still standing.

To-day our karavan was visited by crowds of the nomads dwelling on the spot. Some business was transacted, and bargains struck between the merchants and cattle-dealers of our karavan, and upon credit, too. They applied to me to draw up in writing their cheques. I was surprised to find that the debtor, instead of handing over his signature to tranquillise his creditor, put it into his own pocket; and this was the Turkoman way of arranging the whole business. When I questioned the creditor as to this remarkable manner of procedure, his answer was, 'What have I to do with the writing? The debtor must keep it by him as a reminder of his debt.'

In the evening, when we were ready to start, an event took place, for Madame Buffalo did us the honour of increasing our number by the addition of a healthy little calf, a subject of supreme delight to the Kervanbashi; and not until we were actually on the route, did it occur to him that the poor little calf was not strong enough to accompany our march on foot, and that he must search for a more commodious place for it on one of the camels. As the only kedjeve was the one occupied by Hadji Bilal and myself, all eyes were directed to us. We were asked to cede our place to the new-born calf. My friend was cunning enough at once to evince his readiness to be of service, with the observation that he would, out of friendship to me, whose lameness rendered me less easy to accommodate with a seat, vacate his own, and content himself with any exchange. Hardly had he surrendered his place to the young calf, than the extremely disagreeable smell of my new vis-À-vis betrayed to me the real {102} motive of my friend. By night it was endurable, as my slumbers were only disturbed by the frequent bleating of the calf; but in the daytime, particularly when the heat was very great, my situation became intolerable. Happily my torments did not last long, for the calf succumbed the second day of its ride through the desert.

[Little and Great Balkan]

From this day (May 18) we reckoned two days to the Great Balkan, and thence twelve days to Khiva (altogether fourteen days). During the whole time we should come to only four wells of bitter salt water, and should not encounter a single living human being.

As we were still in the middle of May, our leader hoped to find in the lone places some rain-water (called kÁk). We had filled our skins with dirty water from the miserable cistern at KÖrentaghi. The jolting on the backs of the camels had changed it into something very like mud, having a most nauseous taste, and yet we were obliged to make a very sparing use of it, for there was no hope of finding kÁk until we reached a station on the other side of the Great Balkan.

Our march, as we were now every day more inured to its hardships, began to assume great regularity. We made usually every day three halts, each of an hour and a half or two hours: the first before sunrise, when we made our bread for the whole day; the second at noon, to give man and beast the indulgence of a little repose from the scorching heat; and the third before sunset, to devour our scanty supper, consisting of the oft-mentioned bread and water, every drop of which we had to count. My friends, as well as the Turkomans, had with them supplies of sheep-fat. This they ate with their bread, and offered to me, but I was {103} careful not to partake of it, from the conviction that nothing but the greatest moderation could diminish the torments of thirst, and harden one to endure fatigue. The district we were now traversing consisted of a firm clay bottom, only producing here and there a few wretched plants, and forming for the most part barren ground, in which crevices, like veins, extended beyond the reach of the eye, and offered the most variegated picture. And yet how this eternal sadness of plain, from which every trace of life is banished, wearies the traveller; and what an agreeable change he finds when, arriving at the station, he is permitted to rest a few minutes from the wave-like movements of the camel!

The next morning (May 19) we discovered something like a dark blue cloud towards the north. It was the Little Balkan, which we were to reach the next day, of the height, beauty, and mineral wealth of which the Turkomans gave me such long accounts. Unfortunately, this very night, our generally so wakeful Kervanbashi was overtaken with sleep, and the guide at the head of the line of camels brought us into a position of such jeopardy that it nearly cost us all our lives. For it is necessary to mention that at the foot of the Little Balkan there are many of those dangerous salt morasses, covered with a thick white crust, which are not distinguishable from the firm ground in their vicinity, as all is covered in the same proportion with layers of salt of the thickness of a finger. We had advanced in that direction until the camels, by their footing giving way under them, in spite of all encouragement, were brought to a standstill. We sprang down, and judge of my alarm when I felt, although standing upon the earth, as if I were {104} in a moving boat. The consternation was general. The Kervanbashi shouted out that every one should stop where he was, for it was idle to think of extricating ourselves until daybreak. The strong smell of soda was insupportable; and we were forced to wait three hours, till the first beams of the 'aurora liberatrix' should shine forth. The movement in the backward direction was attended with many difficulties; but we were all glad, for Heaven had been gracious to us, as, had we only advanced a little farther, we might have reached a place where the earth had no consistence, and might have swallowed up a part or perhaps the whole karavan. Such, at all events, was the expressed opinion of the Turkomans.

It was ten o'clock on the morning of the 20th of May when we reached the Little Balkan. It stretched from the south-west to the north-east. We discovered also the feebly-defined promontory belonging to the Great Balkan, running parallel with the former range. The Little Balkan, at the foot of which we encamped, forms an almost uninterrupted chain of mountains of equal elevation, for a distance of about twelve miles. It is not perhaps so barren and naked as those in Persia, it yields grass in some places, and in the rest has a bluish-green colour. Its height, measured by the eye, seems about 3,000 feet.

Our route this day and the next morning (May 21) continued to pass along its side; about evening we reached the foot of the promontory of the Great Balkan. Although I could only see a part of this close, I yet perceived the propriety of the appellation that distinguished it; for on an average, as far as the eye can reach, it has greater circumference and greater height. We found ourselves on a branch stretching {105} in an easterly direction. The Great Balkan, properly so called, runs towards the shore of the Caspian, having nearly a north-easterly direction. According to what I heard in Khiva and amongst the Turkomans, it must be rich in precious minerals; but the fact cannot be relied upon without the opinion of competent judges.

Taken altogether, the spot where we encamped this evening was not without its charms; for, as the setting sun projected its rays upon the lovely valleys of the Little Balkan, one could almost fancy oneself actually in a mountainous district. The view might even be characterised as beautiful; but then the idea of a fearful desolation, the immense abandonment, which covers the whole, as it were, with a veil of mourning! We turn fearfully to see whether the next moment our eye may not encounter some strange human face that will oblige us to grasp our weapon, for every human being encountered in the desert must be met with ready arms.

An hour after sunset the start was determined upon. The Kervanbashi pointed out to us that from this point the true desert began; that, although we had all the appearance of being experienced travellers, still he considered it not unprofitable to remark that, as far as possible, we should avoid speaking loudly, or uttering any cry by day or night; and that henceforth we should each bake his bread before sunset, as no one here ought to light a fire by night for fear of betraying his position to an enemy; and finally that we should, in our prayers, constantly implore Amandjilik for security, and in the hour of danger we should not behave like women.{106}

Some swords, a lance, and two guns were divided amongst us; and as I was regarded as one having most heart, I received fire-arms and a tolerable provision of powder and bail. I must openly avow that all these preparations did not seem to me calculated to inspire much confidence.

[Ancient Bed of the Oxus]

After leaving the Balkan my compass permitted me no longer to doubt, in spite of all attempts at concealment, our having taken the middle route. In KÖrentaghi we had received intelligence that fifty Karaktchi, of the tribe of Tekke, were prowling about in the vicinity of the mountains; but the Kervanbashi seemed only so far influenced by the information as to give a wide berth to the wells and station called Djenak kuyusu, the water of which is besides very salt, so that no camel would touch it unless it had been without water for three days. It may have been about midnight--we had gone about two miles, and had reached a steep declivity--when the word was given that we should all dismount, for we were in the DÖden (as the nomads of the district name the ancient bed of the Oxus), and the storms and the rains of the last winter had now entirely washed away all traces of the route which had been tolerably well defined the year before. We cut across the ancient channel of the river in a crooked line, in order to find a way out on to the opposite bank, the steeper one; it was not till break of day that we contrived, with great fatigue, to reach the high plateau. The nomads in their fables seek to connect the ancient bed of the Oxus with the ruins of Meshedi Misriyan, and declare that the Oxus formerly flowed near the walls of the edifice designed for the Kaaba, and that, at a later period, incensed at the sins of the GÖklens, the river turned to the north.

{107}

The more the Balkan disappeared in the blue clouds in our rear, the greater and more awful became the majesty of the boundless desert. I had before been of opinion that the desert can only impress the mind with an idea of sublimity where both fancy and enthusiasm concur to give colouring and definiteness to the picture. But I was wrong. I have seen in the lowlands of my own beloved country a miniature picture of the desert; a sketch of it, too, on a larger scale, later, when I traversed, in Persia, a part of the salt desert (Deschti Kuvir): but how different the feelings which I here experienced! No; it is not the imagination, as men falsely suppose, it is nature itself, that lights the torch of inspiration. I often tried to brighten the dark hues of the wilderness by picturing, in its immediate vicinity, cities and stirring life, but in vain; the interminable hills of sand, the dreadful stillness of death, the yellowish-red hue of the sun at rising and setting, yes, everything tells us that we are here in a great, perhaps in the greatest, desert on the surface of our globe!

About mid-day (May 22) we encamped near Yeti Siri, so named from the seven wells formerly existing here; from three of these a very salt bad-smelling water can still be obtained, but the other four are entirely dried up. As the Kervanbashi expressed a hope of our finding this evening some rain-water--although what remained in my skin was more like mud, I would not exchange it for the bitter, nauseous fluid of these wells, out of which the camels were made to drink and some of my fellow-travellers made their provisions. I was astonished to see how the latter vied with their four-footed brethren in drinking; they laughed at my counsels to be abstemious, but had later occasion to rue their having slighted them.{108}

[Vendetta]

After a short halt we again started, passing by a hill higher than the rest of the sand-hills; upon the former we saw two empty kedjeve. I was told that the travellers who had been seated therein had perished in the desert, and that everything that had held men was respected amongst the Turkomans, and its destruction regarded as a sin. Singular superstition! Men sold to slavery and lands laid waste regarded as acts of virtue, and a wooden basket held in honour because men have once been seated in it! The desert and its inhabitants are really singular and extraordinary. The reader will be still more surprised when I relate to him what we witnessed this same evening. When it became cooler I dismounted with the Kervanbashi and some other Turkomans, in search of some rain-water that we hoped to find. We were all armed, and each went in a different direction. I followed the Kervanbashi; and we had advanced perhaps forty steps, when the latter observed some traces in the sand, and in great astonishment exclaimed, 'Here there must be men.' We got our muskets ready, and, guided by the track, that became clearer and clearer, we at last reached the mouth of a cave. As from the prints in the sand we could infer that there was but a single man, we soon penetrated into the place, and I saw, with indescribable horror, a man--half a savage, with long hair and beard, clad in the skin of a gazelle--who, no less astonished, sprang up and with levelled lance rushed upon us. Whilst I was contemplating the whole scene with the greatest impatience, the features of my guide showed the most imperturbable composure. When he distinguished the half-savage man, he dropped the end of his weapon, and murmuring in a low voice, 'Amanbol' (peace be unto thee!) he {109} quitted the horrible place. 'Kanli dir, he is one who has blood upon his head,' exclaimed the Kervanbashi, without my having ventured to question him. It was not till later that I learnt that this unhappy man, fleeing from a righteous vendetta, had been for years and years, summer and winter, wandering round the desert; man's face he must not, he dares not, behold! [Footnote 23]

[Footnote 23: The 'vendetta' is here even tolerated by religion! and I was eye-witness in Etrek to an occurrence where a son, in the presence of his mother, avenged the death of his father, that had taken place eight years before, by shooting his step-father, who had married her, and who it appeared had been an accomplice. It was very characteristic that the people who were present at his interment condoled with the mother, and at the same time felicitated the son on the act of piety which he had accomplished.]

Wild man in the desert.

[Sufferings from Thirst.]

Troubled at the sight of this poor sinner, I sighed to think that, in the search after sweet water, we had discovered only traces of blood. My companions returned also without having been successful, and the thought made me shudder that this evening I should swallow the last dregs of the 'sweet slime.' Oh! (thought I) water, dearest of all elements, why did I not earlier appreciate thy worth? Man uses thy blessing like a spendthrift! Yes, in my country man fears thee even; and now what would I give could I only obtain thirty or twenty drops of thy divine moisture!

I ate only a few bits of bread, which I moistened in hot water, for I heard that in boiling it loses its bitter flavour. I was prepared to endure all until we could meet with a little rain-water--I was terrified by the condition of my companions all suffering from violent diarrhoea. Some Turkomans, especially the Kervanbashi, were much suspected of having concealed some of the necessary liquid; but who dared to speak out his thought when every design upon his {110} water-skin would be considered as a design upon the life of its owner, and when a man would have been regarded as out of his senses who should have asked another for a loan of water or present of water? This evening my appetite left me. I had not the slightest craving even for the smallest piece of bread: my sensations were those of extreme debility; the heat of the day was indescribable. My strength was gone, and I was lying there extended, when I perceived that all were pressing round the Kervanbashi; they made a sign to me also to approach. The words 'Water, water,' gave me fresh vigour. I sprang up; how overjoyed and how surprised I was when I saw the Kervanbashi dealing out to each member of the karavan about two glasses of the precious liquid. The honest Turkoman told us that for years it had been his practice in the desert to keep concealed a considerable quantity, and this he doled out when he knew that it would be most acceptable; that this would be a great Sevab (act of piety), for a Turkoman proverb says, 'That a drop of water to the man thirsty in the wilderness washes away a hundred years' sins.'

It is as impossible to measure the degree of the benefit as to describe the enjoyment of such a draught! I felt myself fully satisfied, and imagined that I could again hold out three days! The water had been replenished, but not my bread. Debility and want of appetite had rendered me somewhat careless, and I thought that I could employ for firing, not the wood which was at a little distance, but the camels' dung. I had not collected enough. I placed the dough in the hot ashes, and it was not till after half an hour that I discovered the insufficiency of the heat. I hastened {111} to fetch wood, which I set on fire; it was now dark, and the Kervanbashi called out to me, demanding, 'if I wanted to betray the karavan to the robbers.' So I was obliged to extinguish the fire, and to remove my bread, which was not only not leavened, but was only half baked.

The next morning, May 23, our station was Koymat Ata. It had formerly a well, now dried up; no great loss, for the water, like that from all the other wells in the district, was undrinkable. Unfortunately the heat, particularly in the forenoon, was really unendurable. The rays of the sun often warm the dry sand to the depth of a foot, and the ground becomes so hot, that even the wildest inhabitant of Central Asia, whose habits make him scorn all covering for the feet, is forced to bind a piece of leather under his soles, in the form of a sandal. What wonder if my refreshing draught of yesterday was forgotten, and I saw myself again a prey to the most fearful torments of thirst! At mid-day the Kervanbashi informed us that we were now near the renowned place of pilgrimage and station named Kahriman Ata, and that to fulfil our pious duty we should dismount and walk on foot a quarter of an hour to the tomb of the saint. Let the reader picture to himself my sufferings. Weak and enfeebled from heat and thirst, I was forced to quit my seat, and join the procession of pilgrims, to march to a tomb situated on an elevation, at a distance of fifteen minutes' walk, where, with parched throat, I was expected to bellow forth telkin and passages from the Koran, like one possessed. 'Oh! (thought I) thou cruel saint, couldst thou not have got thyself interred elsewhere, to spare me the terrible martyrdom of this pilgrimage?' Quite out of {112} breath, I fell down before the tomb, which was thirty feet long, and ornamented with rams' horns, the signs of supremacy in Central Asia. The Kervanbashi recounted to us that the saint who therein reposed was a giant as tall as his grave was long; [Footnote 24] that he had for countless years past defended the wells around from the attacks of evil spirits that sought to fill them up with stones. In the vicinity, several small graves are visible, the last resting-places of poor travellers, who in different parts of the desert have perished from the hands of robbers or from the fury of the elements. The news of wells under the protection of the saint overjoyed me. I hoped to find water that I could drink. I hastened so much that I really was the first to reach the place indicated. I soon perceived the well, which was like a brown puddle. I filled my hands; it was as if I had laid hold of ice. I raised the moisture to my lips. Oh! what a martyrdom! not a drop could I swallow--so bitter, so salt, so stinking, was the ice-cold draught. My despair knew no bounds: it was the first time that I really felt anxiety for the result.

[Footnote 24: The Orientals love to dignify their saints also with the attribute of bodily size. In Persia I have remarked several giant graves; and even in Constantinople, on the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus, on the so-called Mount of Joshua, exists a long tomb which the Turks venerate as that of the Joshua of the Bible, but the Greeks as that of Hercules.]

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