Chapter XVII

FROM TEHERAN TO THE LAND OF THE TURKOMANS.

According to appointment, I made my appearance at the caravansary on the 28th day of March, 1863. Those of my friends who could afford to hire a mule or ass to take them to the Persian border were ready, booted and spurred; the poorer, with pilgrim's staffs in their hands, were waiting, too, for the signal of departure. I observed with astonishment that the shabby garments worn by the party in town had been exchanged for other far more ragged ones, hanging down in a thousand tatters and fastened by means of a rope across the back, and learned, to my great surprise, that the miserable dress worn by them in town was their best holiday attire, which was now laid aside in order to save it. But yesterday I fancied myself a beggar in my new costume--to-day I looked fit to be a purple-clad king amidst my companions. Hadji Bilal at last raised his hands for a blessing on our journey, and we had not fairly seized our beards and said our customary Amens, when those of our party who were to walk on foot made a rush towards the gate, in order to get ahead of us who were seated on mules or asses.

The sun had risen to the height of a lance, as the Orientals say, when I turned to give a last farewell look at Teheran, gilded by the early sun, whilst my companions, like pious pilgrims that they were, raised their voices and sang sacred songs. They did not take amiss my not joining them, for they knew that the people of Roum (the inhabitants of European Turkey) were not brought up in such a strict religious way as those of Turkestan, but they hoped that in their society I should soon learn to be more enthusiastic in religious observance.

The caravan numbered twenty-three besides myself; they were all from Khokand and Eastern Turkestan, and mostly natives of Kashgar, Tashkend and Aksu. Their chiefs were Hadji Bilal, of whom I have already spoken, Hadji Sheikh Sultan Mahmud, a fanatic young Tarter, who traced his lineage from a renowned saint, and Hadji Sali Khalifa, who was endeavouring to obtain the rank of an Ishan (the title of Sheikh), and belonged to the half-priestly class. They honoured me with their friendship, and we four were looked upon as the chiefs of the caravan. My name henceforth ceased to be Reshid Effendi and became Hadji Reshid.

We proceeded without any misadventure along the continually rising heights of the mountain chain of Elburz. _Kemerd_ was our first station. It offered nothing but a half-ruined hut of mud, in the middle of a desert, its weatherbeaten walls threatening to give way at any moment. The rain poured in through the chinks of the roof, and it was difficult to find a hand-breadth of dry ground. It was dusk when we arrived, and everybody hurried to get a dry place in the caravansary, myself amongst the pushing crowd. My friend Hadji Bilal set to preparing the _pilar_, and for want of fat, he poured on it grease obtained by melting down some tallow candles. I was of course invited to take my part of this luscious meal, but declined with thanks. Leaving the side of my kind friend, I went amongst the beggars and Persian mule-drivers, and drawing myself up into a corner, I thought, listening to the howling wind and beating rain outdoors in the dark night, of my present miserable condition, compared with that of last night at the palace of the Turkish Embassy, where I was sitting at a sumptuous farewell banquet, given in my honour, the wine glass freely circulating amongst my friends. And now I should have deemed myself happy if I had but room enough to stretch my limbs. To right and left of me fellows, ragged, dirty, ill-smelling and abounding in a variety of little rovers, were affectionately leaning on me; and, to cap the climax of my misery, a Persian mule-driver, afflicted with the gout, sat down near me, now moaning, now screaming with pain, whilst stentorian snoring was going on all around me. My clothes were soaking wet with the rain, and I myself was wet to the skin and shivering as if with a fit of ague. No wonder I could not close my eyes all night, and felt so weak next morning that I could hardly keep my seat decently in the saddle.

We passed the following night much more comfortably in a village called _Ghilar_. We divided into smaller troops, and I joined Hadji Bilal and his intimates. We found quarters in a small room belonging to a peasant, my friend inviting me again to take supper with him. This time I bravely got over my squeamishness; my ravenous appetite made me indulgent towards the nasty smell of the dish and the dirty hands of my companions, who were using them vigorously in helping themselves out of our common plate. The following morning I rose with renewed strength, after a refreshing sleep, and began, with less anxiety, to look the future in the face.

I was considerably amused by the remarks made regarding myself by some Persian villagers, who, with clownish sharp-sightedness, were quick to discover that I was neither a Tartar, nor even an Osmanli, but a Frengi body and soul, availing myself of the society of dervishes in order to visit Central Asia, a land almost inaccessible to Europeans. But of these their surmises they never betrayed a single word to my companions; the Persian Shi-ites' hatred of the Sunnite Central-Asians being such that nothing affords them greater pleasure than to see their mortal enemies imposed upon.

On the fourth day we reached an elevated plateau on which the town of _Firuzkuh_ lies at the foot of a mountain topped by a fine ruin. I was charmed by the beauty of both the town and the surrounding country, the houses especially challenging my admiration for the neatness of their architecture. A wide and deep mountain stream winds through the little town in three different directions. Many and large caravans carry from this place oranges, water-melons, sugar-canes, and other products of the Caspian Sea, to Shahrud and Teheran, returning heavily laden with corn, an article of food almost entirely wanting in this mountainous region.

Beyond Firuzkuh our road took us through a most romantic country. The dense forests, spreading endlessly, the far-sounding roar of the huge mountain cataracts, the bottomless abyss yawning between precipitous mountain sides--made me at times almost imagine I saw the most beautiful Alpine scenery of Europe before me. Even my companions, whose sense of appreciation of the beauties of nature was but slightly developed, became quite enthusiastic. We breakfasted near the ruins of _Div-Sefid_ (_i.e._, the white spirit), crowning a rocky peak. One of our Persian fellow-travellers remarked that this rocky habitation in the air was once the favourite resort of the White Giant whom Rustem (the hero of Oriental legends) conquered and drove to the shores of the Caspian Sea; that spirits of the deep then inhabited alone this paradise-like country; and that it was fortunate that there were heroes at that time who could expel these spirits, for surely the modern Persians would be wanting in strength and courage to accomplish the deed.

The Persian travellers who had come with us as far as _Surkh-Abad_, _i.e._, Red Abode, there took leave of us. The abundant wood and excellent water we found caused immense delight to my Tartars. Whilst at other times six and eight of them would cook by one fire, now each of them kindled a separate fire whereby to prepare his tea. They made use of the very embers, by divesting themselves of their clothes, and two of them holding and drawing tight a piece of clothing at a time over the fire, whilst a third would gently beat it with a small stick. The whole proceeding seemed to me rather mysterious at first, but a peculiar sound, now crackling, now hissing, soon showed that this was a mode of putting to death by fire victims innumerable. The practice, when I first saw it, filled me with disgust; the time arrived, nevertheless, when, for cleanliness' sake, I indulged in it as zealously as any of those present. We were nearly exhausted by our long march on bad roads, and as soon as the dusk of evening approached we were all of us looking for some place to rest in. We should have stopped at many a place in the woods if some Persians had not warned us that the forest was full, particularly at this season, of wild animals who, driven by their predatory instincts, will at night attack strongly built houses, not to speak of human beings camping in the open air. We were especially warned against tigers. In spite of fatigue we were compelled to march on in the woods until late in the night, when we came near several groups of houses, standing apart and called _Heftten_; we settled down near them on the margin of the forest. We decided to keep up a large fire during the whole night, and that each of us should in turn keep watch near the fire. Our nightly fire soon lit up the entire landscape; but the thicket close to us still resounded with the stealthy tread and deep roar of our ferocious enemies. A herd of hungry wild boars were looking out for their prey, and the only way to keep them off was by discharging at intervals our fire-arms at them. The jackals showed most remarkable impudence; they would come quite near us and gambol around us like so many domestic animals, not even minding our sticks. These animals will watch you when you are too absorbed in conversation to keep your eyes on your food or clothing, and catlike pounce upon either, in an unguarded moment, and run away with it. The night passed, however, without any mishap. On the following day I bought for a _penabad_ (about two pence and a half) ten large fine and savoury pheasants. My Tartar companions, too, bought a good many, there being a drug of them in the place; owing to their inability to rise in the air in the dense woods, they are killed with sticks by the thousand. For days the excellent roast, furnished by their succulent and finely flavoured flesh, supplied the place of bread, which is very expensive.

We entered _Sari_, which rises in the middle of a marshy country, covered with mud from head to foot, owing to the miserable roads on which we had to pass. The inhabitants, Persian Shi-ites, laughed at our sad appearance, and a troop of urchins pursued us with insults and cries, until we reached the gate of the caravansary. On entering the bazaar, several men, in red-striped costumes and with peculiar head-gears, stood still at our approach, raising their hands and looking at us with great respect. They were Turkomans, residing here, who wished to receive from us, their Sunnite brethren, just come from the Holy Land, a _fatiha_[3] (blessing) while it was still fresh. We had passed scarcely an hour at the caravansary when a number of others made their appearance, bringing with them gifts of food for ourselves and our animals. One of them paid his respects to me, and, following the example of my companions, I gave him a blessing, which he rewarded by a gift of tobacco worth a couple of shillings. I afterwards told Hadji Bilal of it, and he took occasion to remark at this with brightening eyes: "Yes, Effendi, we shall be free before long; we are coming to the land of the Turkomans, our brethren in faith, and as much distinction is awaiting us there as we have to suffer shame, contumely and contempt at the hands of the Persians." I had become such a Sunnite, by this time, that his words caused me real pleasure; forgetting, as all the while I did, the frightful stories I had heard about the savageness and cruelty of the inhabitants of the desert.

[Footnote 3: _Fatiha_ means the opening chapter of the
Koran, and is recited as a blessing.]

We passed two days in Sari. My companions were busy trying to sell their asses, for we were to embark at the next station and wished to avoid the trouble of shipping and taking the animals with us. In Sari we became acquainted with several distinguished members of the Afghan colony, and immediately on our arrival were invited by them to supper. There happened to be other guests, merchants from _Karatape_, whilst we were there, and our Afghan brethren warmly recommended them to the whole caravan. These men served us, with the greatest alacrity, as guides to their native place.

_Karatape_ owes its name to the black hill standing in the centre of the village, one side of it being inhabited by Persians and the other by Afghans. The first thing I did was to climb this hill in order to take a passing glance at the Caspian Sea. From this spot the open sea cannot be seen, it being concealed by a long and narrow strip of land, running far into the sea, and looking, at a distance, like a line wooded with tall trees. All I could descry was the sheet of water between this line and the shore. I then hurried back to my lodgings to see how the preparations for our passage to the Turkoman desert were progressing. After a good deal of inquiry we heard on the following evening that a Turkoman was about to sail directly for Gomushtepe, and was willing, from feelings of kindness, to take all the hadjis with him. He wished us to be ready on the shore early in the morning so as to be able to take advantage of a favourable breeze. Hadji Bilal, Hadji Salih, and myself, the acknowledged triumvirate of the beggar-caravan, immediately went in search of the Turkoman whose name was Yakub. We found him to be a young man still, with an air of boldness about him. He immediately embraced every one of us, and declared himself willing to wait another day in order that we might procure the necessary articles of food. We had here to provide ourselves with flour, rice and other sustenance to last as far as Khiva; the Turkomans themselves coming to this place to make their purchases. Before all, Yakub asked a blessing of Hadji Bilal and Hadji Salih, and as we were turning to leave he called me aside and asked me to remain a few minutes longer. Of course I remained. He confided to me, with some embarrassment, a case of unhappy and unrequited love, of which he was the victim, and that a very clever sorcerer, a Jew who happened to be just then in Karatape, had promised to prepare for him a very powerful _nuskha_ (talisman) if he would take to him thirty drops of oil of roses fresh from Mecca, which were absolutely necessary for the writing of the magic formula. "I know," continued Yakub, "that the hadjis bring with them oil of roses and other fragrant articles, and, thou being the youngest of the chiefs of the caravan, I apply to thee and hope thou wilt comply with my request." Our companions had, in truth, brought with them oil of roses, and they at once gave him what he had asked for, to the great delight of the good youth.

Early in the morning of the following day we were all assembled on the shore. We now had each of us, besides our beggars' bags, a sack of flour, and, owing to the shallowness of the shore and the consequent distance of the vessel, which lay about a mile off the land, it took considerable time before we were all of us safely carried by boat to the vessel. The craft was a so-called _keseboy_, carrying a mast and one sail, and engaged in carrying freight; she had brought oil of naphtha, pitch and salt from the island of _Tchereken_, and was now sailing back freighted with a small cargo of produce. We had to sit in two rows, close to each other, in order to allow Yakub and his two men space enough easily to move about. Our situation was not of the pleasantest; it was tolerable during the day, but when at night we were oppressed by sleep, we were often compelled to support the burden of a snoring hadji for hours. Two sleepers together would sometimes lean on me, one from the right and another from the left, yet I dared not wake them, for it is considered a great sin to disturb the slumbers of the Faithful.

A favourable westerly wind swelled our sail on the 10th of April, and I enjoyed the sail in the magnificent spring weather as well as I could in my cramped position. A calm set in towards evening; we anchored near the shore, and each of us in turn prepared his tea at the fireplace of the vessel. We arrived on the following day below _Ashurada_, which forms the southernmost point of Russia's possessions in Asia. The place makes a favourable impression upon the traveller coming from Persia. One small and two large Russian men-of-war are permanently in the harbour, for the defence of the Russians in Ashurada and the sailing vessels bound for the place. It happened more than once that, in spite of the strenuous exertions of the military Russian governor, a great number of unfortunate Persians, and not unfrequently Russian sailors, too, were dragged in chains into slavery to Gomushtepe. The Russian vessels are cruising day and night in the Turkoman waters, and every Turkoman vessel, coming from the eastern shore and bound for the shores of Southern Persia, must provide itself with a passport, which must be produced in passing Ashurada. At such times the vessel is carefully searched for slaves, arms and other articles forbidden to be carried.

Our Yakub, too, had his papers, which he produced on the evening we arrived at Ashurada, in order that we might go on without further delay. But it being rather late in the evening, the Russian officer put off his visit to the vessels till next morning. We cast anchor not far from the shore. I was uneasy all night at the thought of these Russian officers coming to-morrow to make their visit on board, and possibly being struck by my European features and complexion. I was not afraid of any inhuman treatment, but I feared they might wish me to give up my journey and discover my identity to my companions. The pleasant sound of church bells roused me next morning. My companions told me that this was the Sunday of the infidels and their holiday. One of the men-of-war in our neighbourhood was beflagged all over. I observed, after a while, that a boat, manned by sailors in full uniform, was sent from her to the shore, and returned to the ship immediately with an officer in full uniform. In about ten minutes we were called upon to draw nearer to the Russian vessel, and I perceived that several fair-haired officers were standing near the gangway. The nearer I approached the faster beat my heart, and I tried, as well as I could, to place myself in such a way as not to have to meet their eyes. The day being a holiday the search was made very superficially, their interpreter exchanging a few words with Yakub, whilst the officers were making fun of our party of beggars. I heard one of them say: "Just look, how white this hadji's complexion is," referring in all probability to me whose face was less weatherbeaten and tanned than my companions. Yakub was soon allowed to leave; and, weighing anchor, our vessel, favoured by a fair breeze, bravely ploughed the waters. In a few hours the Turkoman sea-shore, looking like a long, moderately undulating line, rose before our eyes. Yakub and his men took in the sail, the water ceasing to be navigable. We were about a mile and a half from the mouth of the _Gorghen_, along the two shores of which stretches the camp, called Gomushtepe, presenting the appearance of a dense mass of beehives placed close to each other.