The Mammoth Book of Travel in Dangerous Places (8 page)

We journeyed till within an hour of dawn by a dreary road, over two low passes among hills, not enlivened by a single tree, nor blessed with a drop of fresh water for forty-five miles. In this
dismal waste, our attention was roused by some lighted matches in front, that appeared to cross our path, and which we could not but conclude were robbers, since this country is infested by
banditti. One of the tea merchants busied himself in tearing up rags, rubbing them with gunpowder, and lighting them, literally as
demonstrations
of our force; and judging by the number of
lights that appeared from the opposite party, they must have done the same, which might have been amusing enough had we not construed them into real matchlocks. We had but one piece, and five or
six swords, and could have made but a sorry resistance; but generalship may be shown with a small as well as a large band, and the tea merchant, who seemed accustomed to such scenes, called on us
to dismount, and prepare for the attack. I will not conceal my feelings at this moment, which were those of vexation and irritability at so many succeeding disasters. At length we approached within
speaking distance, and one forward youth in our party challenged in Persian, but he was instantly silenced by an elderly man, who spoke out in Turkish. The Persian, being the language of commerce,
would at once betray our character, and it was proper that we should at least appear as soldiers. The other party gave no reply, but veered off towards Khooloom, and we ourselves took the road of
Koondooz, mutually glad, I suppose, to be rid of each other. At the town we discovered that we had drawn up against peaceable travellers, who must have been as glad as we were to escape. About
eleven in the forenoon we reached the first fields, and alighted in an orchard of apricots, about twelve miles distant from Koondooz, and stole a few hours’ rest after the night’s
journey. I found myself near a hedge of honeysuckles, a bush that delighted me, and which I had never before seen in the East. We reached Koondooz at nightfall, after performing a journey of more
than seventy miles.

We were received on our arrival at the house of Atmaram, the minister, or, as he is styled, the Dewan Begee, of Moorad Beg, and sat in his doorway till he came out. I shall long remember the
silent look which passed between him and the Nazir. The reception augured well, for the minister conducted us to his house of guests, and fine beds were brought for our use, but he said nothing on
the subject which most interested us, and we were left to think about our own affairs. I was now to personate the character of a very poor traveller, and as it behoved me to act as such, I looked
demure, took up my seat in a corner, fared with the servants, and treated the Nazir, my master, with great respect; and evinced, on every occasion, as much humility as possible. It was prudent,
however, that when questioned we should all tell the same story, and in a quiet hour, before going to sleep, I gave out my character as follows. That I was an Armenian from Lucknow, Sikunder
Alaverdi, by profession a watchmaker, and that, on reaching Cabool, I had procured intelligence from Bokhara regarding my relatives in that country, which led me to take a journey to it, and that I
was the more induced to do so from the protection I should receive from the Nazir, to whose brother in Cabool I was, in some manner, a servant. We discarded the subject of my accompanying the Nazir
to Russia, as it might lead to unpleasant inquiries. I then went on to state, that Dr. Gerard was a relative of my own, and that he was left sick at Khooloom, and thus brought within a short space
as much evasion as my ingenuity could invent. All our party agreed, that it would be most advisable to take the name of an Armenian, and entirely discard that of European; but the Cafila-bashee
wished to know how far it was proper to deal in such wholesale lies, which had excited his merriment. I replied in the words of Sady,

“An untruth that preserves peace is better than truth that stirs up troubles.” He shook his head in approbation of the moralist’s wisdom, and I afterwards found him the most
forward in the party to enlarge on my pretended narrative and circumstances. It was agreed that we should first tell the consistent tale to the Hindoo of the custom-house, and then adopt it
generally; and the Nazir promised in the course of to-morrow to unfold it to the minister.

The 4th of June slipped away without any adjustment of our concerns, and the Nazir now evinced an imbecility and weakness of intellect, which there was no tolerating. At one moment he was
whining out to the visiters a sorrowful detail of our disasters, half in tears; at another time he was sitting erect, with all the pride and self-sufficiency of a man of consequence. In the
afternoon he retired to a garden, and returned with a train of followers, as if he had been a grandee instead of a prisoner; nor had he even visited the minister during the day, so that our affairs
were no further advanced at night than in the morning. As soon as it was dark, I took an opportunity of pointing out to my friend the great impropriety of such conduct, for which I encountered, at
first, a good share of his indignation. I told him that his grief and pride were equally ill-timed and impolitic; that every hour added to the danger of our situation; and, if he acted rightly, he
would immediately seek an interview with the minister, and endeavour either to convince or deceive him. You are in the house of a Hindoo, I added, and you may effect any thing by throwing yourself
upon him, and sitting in
dhurna
, that is, without food, till your request is granted. Your course, continued I, is now the reverse, as you appear to prefer parading in his gardens, and
devouring the savoury viands which he sends us. The earnestness with which I enforced these views produced a good effect, and the Nazir sent a messenger to the minister to say, that if he were the
friend of his family, he would not detain him in this manner, for he had not come as a dog, to eat his bread, but as an acquaintance, to solicit a favour. I rejoiced at the decision which he was
now displaying, and called out in accents of delight from my corner of the apartment, but the Nazir here requested me to conduct myself with greater discretion, and remain more peaceable. I
deserved the rebuke, and was thus glad to compromise matters between us. When the minister received the message, he called the Nazir to him, and a long explanation ensued regarding our affairs,
which, as far as I could gather, had left him bewildered as to their reality. It now appeared, however, that we were to have his good offices, for it was settled that we should set out early next
morning to the country seat of the chief, where we should see that personage. The Nazir, as being a man of consequence, was instructed not to appear empty-handed, and the minister, with great
kindness, returned a shawl which he had presented to him on his arrival, and desired him to give it and another to the chief of Koondooz.

Early on the morning of the 5th, we set out on our journey to Moorad Beg. We found him at the village of Khanu-abad, which is about fifteen miles distant, and situated on the brow of the hills
above the fens of Koondooz, enlivened by a rivulet, which runs briskly past a fort, shaded by trees of the richest verdure. We crossed this stream by a bridge, and found ourselves at the gate of a
small, but neatly fortified dwelling, in which the chief was now holding his court. There were about five hundred saddled horses standing at it, and the cavaliers came and returned in great
numbers. All of them were booted, and wore long knives, stuck into the girdle, for swords, some of which were richly mounted with gold. We sat down under the wall, and had ample time to survey the
passing scene, and admire the martial air and pomp of these warlike Uzbeks. None of the chiefs had more than a single attendant, and there was great simplicity in the whole arrangements. A Hindoo
belonging to the minister went inside to announce our arrival, and, in the mean time, I rehearsed my tale, and drew on a pair of boots, as well for the uniformity as to hide my provokingly white
ankles. My face had long been burned into an Asiatic hue, and from it I feared no detection. The custom-house officer stood by, and I had taken care to have him previously schooled in all the
particulars above related. We were summoned, after about an hour’s delay, and passed into the first gateway. We here found an area, in which stood the attendants and horses of the chief. Six
or eight “yessawuls” or doorkeepers then announced our approach, as we entered the inner building. The Nazir headed the party, and marching up to the chief kissed his hand, and
presented his shawls. The Hindoo of the custom-house followed, with two loaves of Russian white sugar, which he gave as his offering; and, in my humble capacity, I brought up the rear, and advanced
to make my obeisance, sending forth a loud “sulam alaikoom”, and placing my hands between those of the chief, kissed them according to custom, and exclaimed “tukseer”, which
literally means
offence
or
crime,
and is the usual mode of expressing inferiority. The Uzbek gave a growl of approbation, and rolling on one side, said, “Ay, ay, he understands
the sulam.” The “yessawul” then gave a signal for my retreat, and I stood at the portal with my hands crossed, among the lower domestics. Moorad Beg was seated on a tiger skin,
and stretched out his legs covered with huge boots, in contempt of all Eastern rules of decorum. He sat at the door, for, contrary to the custom of other Asiatic courts, an Uzbek there takes up his
position, and his visiters pass into the interior of the apartment. The chief was a man of tall stature, with harsh Tartar features; his eyes were small to deformity, his forehead broad and
frowning, and he wanted the beard which adorns the countenance in most Oriental nations. He proceeded to converse with the Nazir; and put several questions regarding Cabool, and then on his own
affairs, during which he spoke of our poverty and situation. Then came the Hindoo of the custom-house with my tale. “Your slave,” said he, “has examined the baggage of the two
Armenians, and found them to be poor travellers. It is in every person’s mouth that they are Europeans (Firingees), and it would have placed me under your displeasure had I let them depart; I
have, therefore, brought one of them to know your orders.” The moment was critical; and the chief gave me a look, and said in Turkish, – “Are you certain he is an Armenian?”
A second assurance carried conviction, and he issued an order for our safe conduct beyond the frontier. I stood by, and saw his secretary prepare and seal the paper; and I could have embraced him
when he pronounced it finished.

ON THE ROOF OF THE WORLD

John Wood

(1811–71)

In 1837 Alexander Burnes returned to Afghanistan on an official mission. Amongst his subordinates was a ship’s lieutenant who, having surveyed the navigational
potential of the river Indus, took off on a mid-winter excursion into the unknown Pamirs between China and Turkestan. Improbably, therefore, it was John Wood, a naval officer and the most
unassuming of explorers, who became the first to climb into the inhospitable mountain heartland of Central Asia and the first to follow to its source the great river Oxus (or Amu Darya).

A
fter mustering our escort before the door of the Akulchail of Langer Kish, we mounted our sturdy hill poneys, and having received the
“God-speed” of the half savage Wakhanis, struck into the durah of Sir-i-kol. While awaiting the Kirghiz arrival, we had made sundry alterations in our dress, which, however expedient,
were certainly not to the improvement of our personal appearance; and as we moved out of the village in single file, I could not help smiling at my Esquimaux-looking body-guard. The Munshi, in
particular, was so hampered up with worsted cloaks, that his arms were all but useless and his short legs had scarcely action enough to keep him on his horse. In addition to the load of clothing
with which each had burdened his steed, the animals carried eight days food for their riders and for themselves, as well as some firewood.

The mountains forming the defile were not very lofty, nor were their sides precipitous; they appeared to have been broken down to abrupt declivities, either by frost and the vicissitudes of
weather, or by subterranean convulsions; and amid their dislocated fragments ran the snow-wreathed stream we had come so far to trace.

About three hours after starting we arrived on the brink of a deep chasm that crossed our track, in passing over which we met with considerable delay. Its slippery sides constituted the
principal difficulty, and it was not without risk that we got the horses across. The Yarkand caravan is frequently interrupted at this place, and its merchandise is obliged to be transferred from
the camel’s back to that of the yak. After getting clear of the ravine, we pushed on at as rapid a pace as the depth of snow permitted; and some time before the day closed in, selected a spot
on which to bivouac for the night. It was the summit of an unsheltered knoll, free from snow, the only place within sight which was so; in return for which exemption it was swept by every breath of
wind that moved either up or down the durah. It was, however, calm when we alighted. The wooden saddles of our steeds and the bags of charcoal were disposed in a circle, within which, with our feet
to the fire, each man took his station. The kettle soon sang upon the red embers, and the koor-geens having been opened, we had begun to feast and make merry, when an ill-natured gust came howling
down the valley, and destroyed at once our fire and our good humour. The latter we soon recovered, but all our coaxing failed for a long time to rekindle the former. The patient labours of the
Kirghiz were at length successful, and before long the tea cup had gone its rounds, infusing a warmth into our frames, and a glow into our hearts, that made us, I dare say, happier than many a
party who were at that moment quaffing their claret, and surrounded with all the luxuries of civilised life. But all happiness is comparative, and I must confess, that when at the best we were not
lying upon a bed of roses, nor was the moaning wintry wind particularly soothing to the ear, nor the biting cold very grateful to the person. The feet were the great sufferers; they were like lead,
and when it is so with the extremities, it is no use caring for the body. So peeling stocking after stocking, we toasted our feet into a comfortable burning warmth, and having settled the necessary
dispositions for the night, each made his own arrangements to pass it as best he could. Thanks to my good horse and his furniture, I got through it tolerably well, but Abdal Ghaní and two
Afghans suffered so severely that I was compelled to send them back to Langer Kish in the morning. Our thermometers were only graduated down to +6° of Fahrenheit; and as the mercury had sunk
into the bulb, it was not in my power to register the exact degree of cold; it was, however, intense, and the highly rarified state of the atmosphere caused it to be the more severely felt. The
height of this halting place was 12,000 feet above the sea.