A Pretended Dervish in Turkestan, Parts I-III [pp. 198-215]

A Pretended Dervish in Turkestan.
The nomads who inhabit this district
came in crowds to visit the caravan,
and for some hours the encampment
had the appearance of a bazaar. The
merchants and drovers who accompanied the kervanbashi concluded important bargains with the natives, mostly
on credit; but Vambdry was surprised to see the debtor, instead of giving
the note as a guarantee to the creditor, tranquilly put it in his own pocket. Our European could not refrain
from speaking of this, and he received
from one of the merchants this answer
of a patriarchal simplicity: "What
should I do with the paper? it would
not do me any good; but the debtor
requires it in order to remind him of
the amount of the debt and of the
time when it is to be paid."
Two days after a dark blue cloud
appeared in the horizon toward the
north; this was Petit-Balkan, the
elevation, the picturesque landscapes,
and the rich mineral resources of
which are celebrated in all Turkoman
poetry. The travellers passed along
the chain of mountains, perceiving
here and there green and fertile prairies, and yet the profound solitude of
these beautiful valleys filled the soul
with a vague sadness. Beyond commences the Great Desert, where the
traveller marches for many weeks
without finding a drop of water to
quench his thirst, or a tree to shelter
him from the rays of the sun. In
winter the cold is intense, in summer
the heat; but the two seasons present
an equal danger, and frequent tempests swallow up whole caravans under drifts of snow or whirlwinds of
sand.
"In proportion," says Vamb6ry,
"as the outlines of Balkan disappear
from the horizon, the limitless desert
shows itself, terrible and majestic.
I had often thought that imagination
and enthusiasm enter largely into the
profound impression produced by the
sight of these immense solitudes. I
deceived myself. In my own beloved country I have often seen vast
plains of sand; in Persia I have
VOL. III. 14
crossed the salt desert; but how differ ent were my feelings to-day! It is
not imagination, it is nature herself
who lights the sacred torch of inspira tion. The interminable hills of sand,
the utter absence of life, the frightful
calm of death, the p)urple tints of the
sun at his rising and setting, all warn
us that we are in the Great Desert,
all fill our souls with an inexpressible
emotion."
After travelling many days, the
provision of water beginning to be
exhausted, Yanmb6ry knew for the
first time the horrible tortures of
thirst. "Alas 1" he thought, "saving,
and blessed water, the most precious
of all the elements, how little have I
known your value! what would I not
give at this moment for a few drops
of your divine substance 1" The unfortunate traveller had lost his appetite, he experienced an excessive
prostration, a devouring fire consumed his veins, he sank upon the ground
in a state of complete exhaustion.
Suddenly he heard resound the magic
words, "' Water! water!" He looked
up and saw the kervanbashi distribute
to each of his companions two glasses
of the precious liquid. The good
Turkoman had the habit whenever
he crossed the desert of hiding a
certain quantity of water, which he
distributed to the members of his caravan when their sufferings became intolerable. This unexpected succor
revived the strength of Vamb6ry, and
he acknowledged the justice of the
Tartar proverb: "The drop of water
given in the desert to the traveller
dying of thirst, effaces a hundred
years of sin."
The next day numerous tracks of
gazelles and wild asses announced to
the travellers that springs were to be
found in the neighborhood; thither
they hastened to fill their bottles, and,
relieved now firom all anxiety lest
water should fail them before their
arrival at Khiva, they gave themselves)
up to transports of joyful enthusiasm. Toward evening they reached
the table-land of Kaflankir, an island
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