CHAPTER IX.THE VALE OF CASHMERE.
MEDICAL SCIENCE IN CASHMERE—LONG AND FATIGUING MARCH—CHIKOTI—FORT OF OREE—FAQUEERS—BRIDGE OF ROPES—AN OLD FRIEND—PLAYFUL MONKEYS—TEMPLE OF BHUMNIAR—PRIMITIVE FISHING—BARRAMULA PASS—THE HAPPY VALLEY AT LAST—FORMATION OF THE VALE OF CASHMERE—CHANGE IN MODE OF TRAVELLING—DONGAHS—HERONS—THE WALLOOR LAKE—FORT OF SRINAGUR—PUG AND THE AFGHAN WARRIOR—THE MURDERER OF LORD MAYO.
MEDICAL SCIENCE IN CASHMERE—LONG AND FATIGUING MARCH—CHIKOTI—FORT OF OREE—FAQUEERS—BRIDGE OF ROPES—AN OLD FRIEND—PLAYFUL MONKEYS—TEMPLE OF BHUMNIAR—PRIMITIVE FISHING—BARRAMULA PASS—THE HAPPY VALLEY AT LAST—FORMATION OF THE VALE OF CASHMERE—CHANGE IN MODE OF TRAVELLING—DONGAHS—HERONS—THE WALLOOR LAKE—FORT OF SRINAGUR—PUG AND THE AFGHAN WARRIOR—THE MURDERER OF LORD MAYO.
CHAPTER IX.
The heat was very great at Huttie, for we were in a hollow, where no breeze seemed to reach us, and the mosquitoes were more annoying than usual. I do not know what we should have done in the event of illness. We had no medicine to speak of but quinine, which we found very useful, for the servants constantly had fever, and the faith they had in the mysterious white powder was implicit. Villagers and coolies used to come to us to beg for a little, and we had to harden our hearts, and give to those only who required it.
Medical science is in a very backward state in Cashmere. A surgeon we met at one of the halting-places told us that he had been entreated by the head man of the district to come and see hisdaughter, who was suffering from a disease of the eye. Our friend went at once to the house, and found the poor girl in a terrible state. A native practitioner had taken out her eye, and, having stuffed up the place with wool, had left Nature to complete a cure, aided by a cloud of flies. The wretched girl was suffering agonies under this treatment, the whole side of her face being a mass of inflammation. Dr. —— trusted that the measures he had taken would save her life. As it came on to rain in the night, our tents were wet in the morning, but fortunately our other set of tents had been sent on the night before. We had a long and fatiguing march up and down hill, through rice fields, and over so-called bridges. The bridges consist of two stout logs, roughly fastened together with planks, with no parapets, and with gaps of several feet between, which made the crossing of a rapid stream a service of real danger to the horses and of most questionable pleasure to pedestrians.
After a tremendous climb we came to scenery which recalled home to our memories. We were hundreds of feet above the Jhellum, whose voice sounded faint and far in the depths below us.For some miles our road lay through park land: fine trees waved overhead, ferns nestled at their roots, and the grass glittered in the sunlight, each blade weighed down by a drop of the last night’s storm. A pair of eagles were teaching their young ones to fly; higher and higher they soared in the blue sky, till our eyes ached watching them. The sun was high in the heavens when we found ourselves at the barradurrie of Chikoti.
Welcome sight! this white-washed house of rest, and still more welcome the ‘doctor,’ which M’Kay had ready for us. M’Kay never seemed tired. Her scons were always ready for breakfast. I do not know how we should have got on without them, for we had no bread; but as long as we had M’Kay’s scons we wished for nothing else, and, as we ate them, we marvelled how she had strength to come such marches and do her work so untiringly. True she had a dandy to be swung along in, but, if her coolies were lazy, she used to lose patience, get out, and run along the steep mountain path, with the swiftness and ease a childhood spent in a Highland home had given her. Her bearers, for very shame, would trot along behind her, either grumbling atthis newly-developed eccentricity in the ‘belattee memsahib,’ or grinning at her remarkable appearance, as she skipped along from rock to rock, a tiny mug, in which she concocted the ‘doctor,’ strapped on behind her waist, also any article of dress my wife would require immediately on arrival. When her pack was opened, the objects she had elected to carry were slippers, brushes, comb, and sponge-bag—all ready for her mistress.
We slept the sleep of the weary that night. Four o’clock came too soon, but we never gave ourselves any time to think of the miseries of early rising, for every mile traversed before the sun climbed the mountains and shone down on us was worth very much. There was not light to see a white horse as we came into the cold morning air; the stars were still out, and only a faint streak in the east showed us that daylight was coming. How very enjoyable those early morning break-neck rides and walks were, the fresh, exhilarating mountain breeze giving us spirits to meet difficulties which in the plains would have seemed insurmountable, the air fragrant with the breath of roses, jessamine, and sweet brier, growing in thick and wild luxuriance.The scenery was very grand; but this was the most fatiguing of all the marches. We scrambled, struggled, climbed to the top of a rugged, precipitous path only to descend again, and, having crossed a river, we ascended to the plateau on which the Fort of Oree is situated. Built by the Sikhs, it is now garrisoned by the troops of the Maharajah.
The barradurrie is near the fort, and is a two-storied house more than usually tenanted—by fleas. As we sat out in the verandah, we were attracted by the sound of a tom-tom, and in a short time appeared some twenty faqueers, who halted in front of where we were seated, and proceeded to bivouac. These faqueers are so-called holy men; they wear no clothes, and their long and tangled locks are covered with ashes, and their faces painted all sorts of colours. A more disgusting sight than one of these men can hardly be imagined, but a detachment, such as were now before us, had a grim kind of comicality. One of them more hideous than the others possessed a queer-looking umbrella, which he planted in the ground, and then extended himself at full length—the picture of a loathsome animal. We wereglad when these dreadful creatures marched away again to the sound of their monotonous music.
There is a curious rope-bridge near Oree; two ropes parallel to each other span the deep gully formed by steep rocks on each side of the river. A chair is pulled across, in which the traveller sits and gazes beneath him at the roaring waters, prepared to engulf him if the rope were to break. Happily our way lay alongside, not across, the Jhellum.
What a lovely ride we had next morning! There were rough ups and downs at first, but then came forests of deodars, through the breaks of which the snow-covered mountains showed sharp and clear against the deep blue sky. Mighty cliffs rose sheer up to our right in some places, while the Jhellum on our left roared and thundered in its narrow passage over huge rocks with such violence that it was impossible to hear ourselves speak. My wife was riding in front, and, as she turned a corner, her horse shied to the right. A weird-looking little man, with no garments on at all, and his head anointed with cinders, was seated on the ground in a shallowcave formed by a rock, thrumming on a native banjo, with a huge cat clinging to his shoulder. He looked very uncanny, and took no notice of us, but seemed quite contented with his surroundings. We were informed that he was a very holy faqueer, who had lived there summer and winter for many years, and that every passer-by gave him something. So we added a few pice to his store.
Further on a long string of large monkeys were turning somersaults disagreeably near to the high cliffs edge; but their glee seemed unending, and they raced away above us, springing from branch to branch, and moving the forest as by a partial breeze. We came to an old ruin called Pandee Ghur, covered with ivy and buried among the dense forest.
Still further on there is a splendid ruined temple called Bhumiar, which is stated to be one of the finest specimens of a familiar kind of architecture in Cashmere. At certain times of the year numerous Hindoo pilgrims come to visit it. Perhaps the detachment of faqueers we saw at Oree may have been returning from the pilgrimage. A thunderstorm which came on hurriedour proceedings, and the thunder rolled grandly as we arrived at Naoshera.
Our halting-place for the night was in the barradurrie, close to the rapid Jhellum. Here we got good-sized fish, which were caught in the most primitive manner. A crooked pin fastened to a string and baited with a mulberry, was quite enough to ensure a good plate of fish. I must not forget to mention that the mulberries were in great abundance, and, when we were in Cashmere, formed the staple article of food for the lower classes. But the peasants are not particular, and devour fruit, nowise careful whether the peaches, apples, or melons be ripe or not.
We felt rather excited as we went off to bed, for the next day would bring the fulfilment of a long looked-for event, our first sight of the Vale of Cashmere. It was grey dawn when we marched away in the morning. The Jhellum sounded louder than ever, its roar preventing any conversation taking place, and making it expedient for us to ride on in silence. At first we passed through rugged, narrow glens, but soon we emerged into a grassy plain surrounded by high wooded hills, and, amazing metamorphosis! theloud and angry Jhellum flowed smoothly and quietly past with not a ripple on its waters.
And now, instead of rocky paths, our road was a perfect level, part of it through rice-fields. Here we met an old friend returning to the plains, accompanied by several coolies laden with trophies of the chase, and delighted with his wanderings in the mountains of Cashmere. There is a great charm in meeting an acquaintance when far from the haunts of civilized life.
After some pleasant conversation, we bade adieu to our friend, and continued our ride towards the wooded ridge in front of us, over which lies the Barramula Pass, which is some hundred feet above the plain. This was our last scramble, and when we arrived at the summit we both exclaimed, ‘The Happy Valley at last!’
The top is covered with green grass and shrubs; the view is extensive over a portion of the Vale of Cashmere. You see the Jhellum, the Walloor Lake, Sopoor, and the hills enclosing the northern side. I must own that the first glimpse is rather disappointing. Accustomed for days to the majestic mountains crowned with snow, the dark, mysterious valleys through whichthe river foamed and raged, the Vale of Cashmere, with its green and fertile pastures, was a sudden change. But soon our eyes became enamoured with the glowing charms of that sweet view, and were quite ready to appreciate fully all its delights.
The valley at some time must have been a vast sheet of water. The whole formation leads one to think this most probable, and the exit and drain of this vast lake must have occurred when the mass of water made itself an issue near Naoshera, and, tearing through the rocks, rushed madly on, leaving behind it the gently flowing river.
The trees in the Happy Valley are the plane, the walnut, the poplar, the mulberry, and the willow; while, higher up, the mountain sides are covered with forests of deodar and pine. Fruit is very plentiful, growing wild, and consists of mulberries, peaches, apples, pears, cherries, grapes, walnuts, and melons. Vegetables are also in great abundance. The soil is very rich, and during the summer there is no climate to be compared with that of Cashmere.
If the country were fairly governed, and thepopulation unoppressed by tyrannical laws and injustice—in short, if we had retained possession of it when it once was ours, what a paradise it would now be! At present the flowers and fruit grow wild and untended, and the poor peasants are miserable specimens of humanity. Many a better class farmer has said to me, ‘Would that the English were our masters!’ When the traveller reaches Barramula, he is in the actual Vale of Cashmere.
‘Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave?’[3]
‘Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave?’[3]
‘Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave?’[3]
‘Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,
With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave?’[3]
And now we were to change our mode of travelling—to have a rest from break-neck rides, and to travel luxuriously in boats. The horses were to go on by easy marches to Srinagur, there to meet us. They had carried us well over the hundred miles of difficult road we had come from Murree. The rocks they had scrambled over had been very hard on their feet, and repeatedly they had lost shoes; but I had come prepared for such contingencies, each syce carrying with him four strong leather boots, and whenever a shoe cameoff, a boot was slipped on to save the hoof; at the halting-places a blacksmith could always be found to put a shoe on, and we had our own with us. The natives keep only one size, very small, and they have been known to give lockjaw to travellers’ horses from paring away the hoof to fit them. The Jhellum at Barramula is smooth and broad.
M’Kay was much put out when she discovered there were no steamers, and puzzled the coolies by vainly trying to find out from them the wharf from which we were to embark. We had three boats, called dongahs. The one my wife and I occupied, a flat-bottomed boat, with very pointed extremities, was sixty feet long, six broad, and about two feet in depth. A wooden roof, covered with matting, extended about half its length, and other pieces of matting were fastened on to the sides of the wooden frame, which can be closed at night and raised during the day. The crew consisted of a whole family, who lived in the stern part of the boat. The oars were short, with broad, heart-shaped paddles. My wife and M’Kay made our gondola most comfortable. The sides of our cabin were festooned with red andwhite curtains. In the centre, hanging from the roof, were large mosquito-nets. During the day our camp beds were pushed out of the way, and a table took their place, on which were our books and writing materials. There was room also for an impromptu sofa of cloaks, pillows, &c.
M’Kay had another dongah, which she shared with our dogs, and the third one contained our servants and cuisine. Oh! the delicious sense of repose—after toiling for days among rocks and mountain paths, to feel ourselves resting in quiet and peace! It was sufficient, for a time, just to live, and lazily to look at the merry birds glancing past in the sunlight, and every now and then seeing them drop into the calm waters.
At first we had to cross a broad part of the river, and one of our crew stood in the bows, and with a pole pushed us along, while the remainder, in the stern, propelled us with the heart-shaped paddles. We soon reached the opposite bank, when most of the family jumped out on the path, and towed us by a long line, and so we glided past green pastures, in which hundreds of mares and foals were quietly grazing, past sedgy pools, where numerous herons arosebefore us. They had no fear, these royal birds, protected by the Maharajah, as a heron’s plume is a token of nobility.
‘When day had hid his sultry flameBehind the palms of Baramoule,’[4]
‘When day had hid his sultry flameBehind the palms of Baramoule,’[4]
‘When day had hid his sultry flameBehind the palms of Baramoule,’[4]
‘When day had hid his sultry flame
Behind the palms of Baramoule,’[4]
we reached the town of Sopoor, which is built on both sides of the river, and joined together by a bridge resting on wooden pillars. Innumerable wild ducks skimmed past us, and the large mahseer rose to the flies which hovered over the mirror-like water during the still evening hour.
Before sunrise next day, we had left our moorings at Sopoor, and, shortly after, entered the Walloor Lake. It is the largest lake in Cashmere, and the Jhellum flows through it. The boatmen are very superstitious about crossing the lake. Offer them any amount of backsheesh, they will not attempt to enter it after the sun has set. The Walloor is often visited by storms and sudden squalls, and the flat-bottomed boats, with their heavy top-hamper, are not suitable for a gale of wind. So we entered the lake after sunrise. The mosquitoes were innumerable. I satout on the prow of our boat to get a shot at the wild fowl, which crossed and recrossed before our gondola, and the mosquitoes covered my hands with white lumps and blood; for they are easily killed, and are powerful blood-suckers.
The lake is choked up in many places by reeds and morass. Where the boats pass on their passage to Srinagur the whole surface of the water is covered with water-lilies. The scene was fairy-like. High towering around us were mountains tipped with snow, while green pastures encircled the lake. In the far distance, in our front, the fort of Srinagur rose proudly on the horizon, like the Acropolis of Athens, while on our left the heights above Manisbul Lake marked the entrance to that lovely spot, and in the hazy distance on our right, could just be seen the glaciers which show where Gulmurg, the ‘Field of Flowers,’ nestles, a green valley among the snow-clad hills. In the evening, we entered Shadipore, ‘The Place of Marriage,’ where the Scind river effects a junction with the Jhellum.
A Hindoo temple on a solid block of masonry is shaded by a chenár. Tradition says that this tree, which is situated in the middle of the river,never grows. The boatmen drew up our squadron to leeward of a large barge not laden with violets, so we insisted on being taken to some other place. We were accordingly moved to a fine open space, and moored to a post sunk deep in the mud.
My wife’s favourite pug jumped out of M’Kay’s boat at the first place where we halted, and now was nowhere to be seen. A great hunt ensued, and we were beginning to despair of her recovery when the little black-faced beauty made her appearance quite unconcerned. My wife was very fond of this troublesome pet, which had most endearing ways, but, like all her breed, was very selfish and exacting, her mistress often being compelled to sacrifice her own comfort to that of her favourite ‘Polly,’ a name bestowed on her in remembrance of the very kind donor, who was wife of the Commissioner of Peshawur.
One day at Peshawur, a tall, fine-looking Afghan made his appearance at our bungalow, and, having been admitted, entered the drawing-room, and saluting, produced a little black-nosed animal, which was Pug. The armed warrior again saluted, and retired, leaving Polly distracted under a chair,attached to a long chain. She was soon coaxed from her retreat, and took at once to her new mistress, for whom she ever afterwards showed a sort of selfish affection.
The tall Afghan was a retainer of the commissioner. His gentle care of his sahib’s children was very remarkable. He was often in attendance on them when they went out to ride or drive; a kindly, gentle warrior he seemed to be. But these Kybaries have strange customs, and one is the ‘blood feud.’ Like the Corsican vendetta, it descends from father to son. This man was one day in the city of Peshawur, where he saw a member of a family with whom he had a blood feud. Perhaps he regretted having come across his enemy, but the very honesty of the bold soldier may have made him feel bound to pursue his foe. Anyway, he followed the man, and on the road to Jumrood overtook him and slew him. Had he waited but a short time, he would have been out of British territory; but the deed had been done in our queen’s dominions, where blood feuds are not recognised by the law. He was imprisoned and tried for murder, the punishment for which is death. Deep regret wasfelt for the faithful retainer, who, however, was not condemned to die, but to undergo imprisonment for life in the Andaman Islands. Alas! for this mountain warrior, imprisonment was far worse to him than death. Death he despised—but imprisonment! We must look at his position in his own light. We must remember that he was brought up in the faith of blood feuds. We must bring to bear all in his favournow, for soon we shall loathe his name. This Afghan mountaineer, this man who was the gentle attendant on children, who carried Pug so carefully into our bungalow at Peshawur, was the murderer of Lord Mayo!
In the evening it looked like rain, but we did not much mind. We settled ourselves in our tent-like cabin and laughed at the mosquitoes which howled outside our curtains, when all of a sudden everyone on board seemed demented. I jumped up and found the dress of a Highlander quite unsuited to a gale of wind. My wife also sadly deplored her scanty costume. The usually quiet going gondola was flying in a most distracted manner before the wind; our gray, red, and white curtains flew out like long, dishevelledlocks; our mosquito-nets jumped up and down in extraordinary fits; our boatmen’s family announced their numbers with great loudness, for in the back part of our vessel the voices of male and female old age joined in fiendish clamour with those of youth and babyhood, and our dogs barked incessantly! On flew our dissipated and ill-behaved, flat-bottomed barge, which had broken loose from the bonds that bound it to the muddy bank, and had started off on a lark, when the sudden squall had rushed down from the mountains and shouted ‘Come!’ How we were ever stopped, I know not; but, after half an hour of great anxiety, the unwieldy and reckless, flat-bottomed barge was made fast to the muddy bank, and we were left in peace to repair damages.