From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People — Sec 7 Eastern Turkestan (1895)

THE TAKLA-MAKAN DESERT

We are now on the high road between India and Eastern Turkestan, the most elevated caravan route in the world.

Innumerable skeletons of transport animals lie there, marking where the road passes through snow.

After a month's journey over the cold, lofty mountains we come to the town of Yarkand, in the spacious, flat, bowl-shaped hollow, surrounded on all sides except the east by mountains, which is called Eastern Turkestan.

To the south stand the immense highlands of Tibet, where the great rivers of India and China take their rise.

On the west is the Pamir, the "Roof of the World," where the two great rivers of the Sea of Aral begin their course.

On the north lie the Tien-shan, or Mountains of Heaven, which are continued farther north-eastwards by the Altai and several other mountain systems, among which the gigantic rivers of Siberia have their origin.

Within this ring of mountains, at the very heart of the great continent of Asia, lies this lowland of Eastern Turkestan, like a Tibetan sheepfold enclosed by enormous walls of rock.

In its northern part a river called the Tarim flows from west to east.

It is formed by the Yarkand-darya and the Khotan-darya on the south, and receives other affluents along its course, for water streams down from the snowfields and glaciers of the wreath of mountains enclosing Eastern Turkestan.

The head-waters of the Tarim leap merrily down through narrow valleys among the mountains, but the great river is doomed never to reach the sea.

It terminates and is lost in a desert lake named Lop-nor.

Trees grow along this river, mostly small, stunted poplars, but the wooded belts along the banks are very narrow; soon the trees thin out and come to an end, steppe shrubs and tamarisks take their place, and only a mile or two from the river there is nothing but deep sand without a sign of vegetation.

The greater part of Eastern Turkestan is occupied by the desert called Takla-makan, the most terrible and dangerous in the world.

[Illustration: MAP OF EASTERN TURKESTAN, SHOWING JOURNEYS DESCRIBED ON pp. 89-110. ] A belt of desert runs through the whole of Asia and Africa, like a dried-up river bed.

This belt includes the Gobi, which extends over most of Mongolia, the Takla-makan, the "Red Sand" and the "Black Sand" in Russian Turkestan, the Kevir and other deserts in Persia, the deserts of Arabia, and lastly the Sahara.

In this succession of deserts extending over the Old World from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic the Takla-makan is, then, a link.

ACROSS A SEA OF SAND

In the beginning of April, 1895, I had reached the Yarkand-darya and had encamped at a village, Merket, on its eastern bank.

My plan was to cross the Takla-makan desert, which stretches away to the eastward, and to reach the river Khotan-darya, which flows northwards, the distance being 180 miles.

My caravan consisted of four servants and eight camels;

and we took provisions for two months--for we intended afterwards to travel on to Tibet--and water for twenty-five days in four iron cisterns.

We started on April 10. A white camel was led in front by a man we called the guide, because every one said that he had often been in the desert seeking for treasure.

My riding camel was led by a white-bearded man named Muhamed Shah.

Kasim came at the end of the file, and the faithful Islam Bay, who superintended the whole, was my confidential servant.

We had also two dogs, Yolldash and Hamra, three sheep, ten hens, and a cock.

The last did not like riding on a camel.

He was always working his way out through the bars of his cage, and fluttering down to the ground with a loud crow.

For the first few days all went on quietly and satisfactorily.

At night we could always obtain water for the camels and other animals by digging, and thus we saved the fresh river-water in our tanks.

But the sand became gradually higher and forced us to diverge to the north-east.

On April 18 we came to a morass surrounded by wood so thick that we had to clear a way with the axe.

Next day we encamped on the shore of a lake of beautiful blue water where ducks and geese were swimming about, and my tent was set up under a couple of poplars.

Another day's march led us along the shore of a long lake with bare banks.

We encamped at its southern extremity and rested a day, for here nothing could be seen towards the south and west but yellow sand.

The guide asserted that it was four days' journey eastwards to the river Khotan-darya, and this statement agreed approximately with existing maps, but I took the precaution of ordering the men to take water for ten days.

On April 23 we left the last bay of the last lake to plunge into the high sand.

All vegetation came to an end, and only in some hollow a solitary tamarisk was still to be seen.

The sandhills became ever higher, rising to as much as 100 feet.

The next day we marched on in a violent storm.

The sand swept down in clouds from the crests of the dunes, penetrating into our mouths, noses, and eyes.

Islam Bay led our train and looked for the easiest way for the camels.

We noticed, however, that they were already beginning to get tired.

Sometimes they fell in the sand, and their loads had to be taken off before they could get up again.

When the tent was set up we had made only eight miles.

Now there was not a sign of life, not a moth fluttered round my candle, not a wind-borne leaf was seen in the boundless yellow sand.

On the morning of the 25th I made a terrible discovery: two cisterns were empty and the other two contained only enough water for two days.

Henceforth Islam Bay was put in charge of the cisterns.

The water was treasured like gold and served out in driblets.

I travelled on foot to spare my riding camel and encourage the men.

The caravan moved more slowly through the murderous sands.

One camel, called Old Man, lagged behind.

We waited an hour, and gave him a mouthful of water and a handful of hay from his own pack-saddle.

When we went on, he was led slowly after us by Muhamed Shah.

With Islam I measured out the last drops of water on the night of the 26th.

There were about two small cups daily for each of us for three days.

The next day we plunged again into terrible sand, the dunes being 200 feet high.

In the evening we saw dense rain-clouds in the west, and hoped that Heaven would have compassion on us.

The clouds spread out and came still nearer.

All our vessels were made ready, and the tent was stretched on the ground to collect the sweet water which was to save us.

We waited in vain, for the clouds dispersed and yielded us not a drop.

The two tired-out camels had been abandoned at the beginning of the day, and we had thrown away a stove, a carpet, my tent-bed, and two empty water cisterns.

On April 28 we were awakened by a north-easterly storm, one of those "black storms" which stir up the drift-sand in dense clouds and turn day into night.

All the camp was buried in sand.

Only the nearest camels could be seen, and their track was immediately obliterated.

We had to keep all together lest we should lose one another.

It was quite possible to lose the caravan at a distance of a few paces, and that meant death.

We were almost suffocated by the volumes of sand which whirled about us, and had to rest frequently to get our breath.

The camels lay down with their heads to leeward, and we thrust our faces under them that we might not be choked with sand.

Then we went on with faltering steps.

A camel fell and I sent two men after him.

They came back directly, saying that the track was smoothed out by the wind and that they dared not lose sight of us.

That was the third victim.

At the evening camp everything not absolutely indispensable was sorted out to be left behind, and a stick was set up on the nearest dune with a newspaper wrapped round it so that we might find the place again if we obtained water soon.

There was still a little water left in the two cans, but next morning Islam came and told me that one of them was empty.

There can be little doubt that the guide was the thief who had robbed us all.

With failing steps we struggled on all day among the high sand dunes.

On the morning of the 30th there was less than two-thirds of a pint of water left in the last can.

While the others were engaged in loading the camels, Islam surprised the guide as he stood with the can to his mouth.

Islam fell upon him furiously, threw him to the ground, and would have killed him if I had not come up in time.

Only one-third of a pint was now left.

At mid-day I moistened the men's lips with the corner of a handkerchief dipped in water.

In the evening the last drops were to be distributed, but when the time came the can was found to be absolutely empty.

Kasim and Muhamed, who led the camels, had drunk it all.

THE END OF THE CARAVAN

The night was cold, but the sun had not long risen on May 1 before the heat spread over the dunes.

The men drank the last of some rancid vegetable oil which had been intended for the camels.

I was tortured with thirst, as I had not drunk a drop of water the day before, and before that only a few mouthfuls.

Thirst is a fearful thing, driving one to despair, and almost depriving one of reason.

As the body dries up, the desire for water leaves one no peace.

We had a flask of Chinese spirits which were intended for a cooking stove.

I now drank about a tumblerful of it to give my body a little moisture, and then I threw the flask away and let its dangerous contents run out into the sand.

The insidious liquor undermined my strength.

When the caravan toiled on through the dunes I could not follow it.

I crept and staggered in its track.

The bells rang out clearly in the quiet air, but the sound became fainter, and at length died away in the distance.

The silent desert lay around me--sand, sand, sand in all directions.

Following slowly in the footsteps of the others, I came at last to the crest of a dune, where I saw that the camels of the caravan had laid themselves down.

Muhamed Shah was on his knees imploring help from Allah.

Kasim was sitting with his face in his hands, weeping and laughing alternately.

Islam, who had been exploring in front, came back and proposed that we should look for a place where we could dig for water (Plate IX.

).

I therefore mounted the white camel, after his load--ammunition boxes, two European saddles, and a number of other articles--had been thrown away, but the animal would not get up.

We then decided to stay where we were and wait for the cool of evening, and the tent was set up to afford us shade.

Even Yolldash and the sheep came in.

At mid-day a gentle breeze sprang up, and the air felt pleasant and refreshing.

We killed the cock and drank its blood.

Then Islam turned the head of the sheep towards Mecca, cut off its head, and collected the blood in a pail, but it was thick and smelt offensively, and not even the dog Yolldash would touch it.

We now sorted out all our belongings, taking with us only what was absolutely necessary at the moment, and leaving everything else behind in the tent.

The guide had lost his reason and filled his mouth with sand, thinking it was water.

He and old Muhamed Shah, who was also dying, had to be left behind.

At seven o'clock I mounted the white camel.

Islam led the train and Kasim urged the animals on.

The funeral bells, now rang for the last time.

From a high sandy crest I turned a farewell glance at the death camp.

The tent marked out a dark triangle against the lighter background, and then vanished behind the sand.

The night descended sadly and silently over the earth.

We tramped through loose sand, up and down, without seeing where we were going.

I

jumped down from my camel, lighted the lantern, and walked on in front to see where it was easiest for the camels to follow.

Then Islam reeled up to me and whispered that he could go no farther.

I

bade him farewell, cheered him up, told him to rest and then follow in my track, abandoning everything.

The camels were lying half-dead with necks stretched out.

Kasim alone was fit to accompany me farther.

He took a spade and a pail and the paunch of the sheep.

I had only my watch, compass, a penknife, a pen, and a scrap of paper, two small tins of lobster and chocolate, a small box, matches and ten cigarettes.

But the food gave us little satisfaction, for when the mouth, palate, and throat are as dry as the outer skin it is impossible to swallow.

[Illustration: PLATE IX.

DIGGING FOR WATER IN THE TAKLA-MAKAN.

] It was exactly twelve o'clock.

We had been shipwrecked in the midst of the desert sea, and were now trying to reach a coast.

The lantern stood burning beside Islam Bay, but the light was soon hidden by the dunes.

We were clad as lightly as possible.

Kasim had a thin jacket, wide trousers, and boots, but he had forgotten his cap, so I lent him my pocket handkerchief to wind round his head.

I wore a white Russian cap, stiff Swedish shoes, woollen underclothing, and a white suit of thin cotton cloth.

I had changed my clothes at the death camp that I might have a neat clean shroud if I died.

We pushed on with the energy of despair, but after two hours we were so sleepy that we had to rest a while.

The coolness of the night woke us up at four o'clock, and we kept on the march till nine.

Then we rested again and walked on farther till twelve o'clock, when we were again overcome by weariness and the burning heat of the day.

In a sandy slope facing northwards Kasim digged out cool sand in which we burrowed stark naked with only our heads out.

To protect ourselves from sunstroke we made a screen by hanging up clothes on the spade.

At six o'clock we got up again and walked for seven hours.

Our strength was giving way, and we had to rest more frequently.

At one o'clock we were slumbering on a dune.

There we lay quite three hours, and then went on eastwards.

I always held the compass in my hand.

The next day had dawned, May 3, when Kasim stopped, caught hold of my shoulder, and pointed eastwards without saying a word.

A small dark speck was seen in the distance; it was a green tamarisk!

Its roots must go down to the water below the surface, or it could not live in the desert sea.

We thanked God when we came up to it.

We had now some hope of safety, and we chewed the soft needles of the tamarisks like beasts.

We tarried a while under its slight shadow, and then walked till half-past nine, when we fell down with faintness at another bush.

We again undressed and buried ourselves in sand, lying without speaking a word for quite nine hours.

At dusk we dragged ourselves on again with halting steps.

After three hours of march Kasim again stopped suddenly.

Something dark peeped out from among the dunes--three fine poplars with sappy foliage.

The leaves were too bitter to eat, but we rubbed them on the skin until it became moist.

Here we tried to dig a well, but the spade fell out of our powerless hands.

We then lay down and scraped with our hands, but could not do much.

Instead we collected all the dry branches we could find and made a blazing fire as a beacon for Islam, and to attract attention from the east, for we knew that a caravan road ran along the Khotan river.

At four o'clock on May 4 we moved on again, but after five hours we were utterly exhausted.

We threw ourselves heedlessly on the sand, for Kasim was unable to dig the usual burrow.

I wriggled naked into the cool dune and lay there ten hours without closing an eye.

When at last the shadows spread over the earth and I was ready to set out, Kasim murmured that he could go no farther.

I did not even remember to bid him farewell when I went on my way alone through the darkness and sand.

Just after midnight I sank down by a tamarisk.

The stars twinkled as usual, and not a sound was audible.

Only the beat of my heart and the ticking of my watch broke the awful silence.

Then I heard a rustling sound in the sand.

"Is that you, Kasim?"

I asked.

"Yes, sir," he whispered back.

"Let us go a little farther," I said, and he followed me with trembling legs.

We were not troubled now so much by thirst, for our bodies had become as dry as parchment and seemed to have lost all feeling; but our strength was at an end.

We crawled for a long distance on our hands and feet, dazed and indifferent, as if we were walking in our sleep.

But soon we waked up into full consciousness.

Dumb with astonishment we stopped before the trail of men.

Shepherds from the river must have seen our fire the day before and have come to look for us.

We followed the trail up a high dune where the sand was closely packed and the marks were more distinct.

"It is our own trail," said Kasim in a despairing voice.

We had gone round in a circle, and now we could do no more for a while.

Sad and worn out, we fell down in the track.

It was May 5. We had slept half an hour.

It was four o'clock, and a vague light heralding the ruddy dawn rose up above the eastern horizon.

Kasim looked dreadfully ill; his tongue was swollen, white and dry, his lips bluish.

He complained of a spasmodic hiccough that shook his whole body, a sign of the approach of death.

The thick blood flowed sluggishly in his veins.

Even the eyes and joints were dry.

We had struggled bravely, but now the end was near.

But when the sun rose we saw a dark line on the eastern horizon.

The sight filled us with thankfulness, for we knew that it must be the wood on the bank of the Khotan river.

Now we exerted ourselves to the uttermost, for we must reach it before we sank with thirst and exhaustion.

A number of poplars grew in a hollow.

"Let us dig here; it is a long distance to the woods"; but the spade again slipped out of our hands, and we could only stumble and crawl on eastwards.

At last we were there.

I seemed to be roused from a fearful dream, a terrible nightmare.

Green and luxuriant stood the trees in front of us, and between them grew grass and weeds where numerous spoors of wild animals were visible--tigers, wolves, foxes, stags, antelopes, gazelles, and hares.

The birds were singing their morning song and insects buzzed in the air.

Life and joyousness reigned everywhere.

It could not now be far to the river.

We tried to pass through the wood, but were stopped by impenetrable brushwood and fallen trunks.

Then we came to a path with plain traces of men and horses.

We decided to follow it, for surely it would lead to the bank, but not even the hope of a speedy deliverance could enable us to keep on our feet.

At nine o'clock, when the day was already burning hot, we tumbled down in the shade of a couple of poplars.

Kasim could not last much longer.

His senses were clouded.

He gasped for breath and stared with vacant eyes at the sky.

He made no answer even when I shook him.

I took off my clothes and crept down into a hole between the tree roots.

Scorpions inhabited the dry trees and their marks were visible everywhere, but the poisonous reptiles left me in peace.

WATER AT LAST

I lay for ten hours wide awake.

At seven o'clock I took the wooden haft of the spade and went alone through the wood, for Kasim could not move.

I dropped down again and again on fallen trunks to rest; a few more staggering steps and again a rest on a stump.

When I could not hold myself up, I crawled inch by inch through the brushwood, tearing my hands and clothes.

It grew dusk and then dark in the wood.

I felt sleep gradually creeping over me to rob me of life.

For if I had fallen asleep now, I should never have awakened again.

My last struggle was, then, against drowsiness.

Then the wood suddenly came to an end and the bed of the Khotan river lay before me.

But the bottom was dry, as dry as the sand in the desert!

I was at the summer margin of the river, where water only flows when the snow melts on the mountains to the south.

But I was not going to die on the bank; I would cross the whole bed before I gave myself up for lost.

The bed was a mile and a quarter broad, a terrible distance for my strength.

I walked slowly with the spade-handle for a stick, crawling for long distances and often resting and exerting all the force of my will to resist sleep.

Hitherto we had been always making eastwards, but this night I walked involuntarily south-east.

It was as though I were guided by an unseen hand.

The crescent moon threw a pale light over the dry riverbed.

I went towards the middle and expected to see a silvery streak glisten on a sheet of water.

After an interval, which seemed endless, I descried the line of wood on the eastern bank.

It became more distinct.

A fallen poplar lay projecting over a hollow in the river-bed and on the bank were close thickets of bushes and reeds.

I rested once more.

Was it possible that the whole bed was dry?

I felt that all my remaining strength would be needed to reach the bank.

Was I to die of thirst in the middle of a river-bed?

I rose painfully to walk the last bit, but I had not taken many steps before I stopped short.

A duck rose on whirring wings, I heard the plashing sound of water, and the next moment I stood at the edge of a fresh, cool, beautiful pool.

I fell on my knees and thanked God for my marvellous escape.

Then I took out my watch and felt my feeble pulse, which beat forty-nine.

Then I drank, slowly at first and then more freely.

A deal of water was needed to slake such a thirst; I drank and drank until at length I was satisfied.

Then I sat down to rest and felt that I was reviving quickly.

After a few minutes my pulse had risen to fifty-six.

My hands, which had just been withered and hard as wood, softened, the blood flowed more easily through my veins and my forehead became moist.

Life seemed more desirable and delightful than ever.

Then I drank again, and thought of my wonderful deliverance.

If I had passed fifty steps to the right or left of the pool, I should probably never have found it, or if I had crawled on in the wrong direction, I should have had to walk six miles to the next pool, which I could not have done before sleep with the death trance in its train came and carried me off.

Now my thoughts flew to the dying Kasim.

He needed help at once, if his life was to be saved.

Dipping my waterproof boots in the pool I filled them to the top, passed the straps over the ends of the spade shaft, and with this over my shoulder retraced my steps.

It was pitch-dark in the wood and it was impossible to see the track.

I called out "Kasim" with all the force of my lungs, but heard no answer.

Then I sought out a dense clump of dried branches and brushwood and set it on fire.

The flame shot up immediately, the pile of dry twigs crackled, burst and frizzled, the dried herbage was scorched by the draught from below, tongues of flame licked the poplar trunks, and it became as light as in the middle of the day, a yellowish red gleam illuminating the dark recesses of the wood.

Kasim could not be far off, and must see the fire.

Again I looked for the trail, but as I only got confused in the wood I stayed by the fire, propped the boots against a root, laid myself down where the flames could not reach me, but where I was safe from tigers and other wild beasts, and slept soundly.

When day broke I found the trail.

Kasim was lying where I left him.

"I am dying," he whispered in a scarcely audible voice; but when I raised one of the boots to his lips, he roused himself up and drank, and emptied the other one also.

Then we agreed to go together to the pool.

It was impossible to turn back into the desert, for we had not eaten for a week, and now that our thirst was quenched we were attacked by hunger.

Besides, we felt quite sure that the other men were dead some days ago.

Kasim was so exhausted that he could not go with me.

As he was at any rate on the right track, and it was now most important to find something to eat, I went alone to the pool, drank, bathed, and rested, and then walked southwards.

At nine o'clock a violent westerly storm arose, driving clouds of sand along the ground.

After wandering three hours it occurred to me that it was not wise to leave the beneficent pool.

I

therefore turned back, but after half an hour only found instead a very small pool with indifferent water.

It was no use wandering about in such a storm, for I could not see where I was going; the wind roared and whistled through the wood, and I was half dead with fatigue and hunger.

I therefore crept into a small thicket close to this pool, where I was out of reach of the storm, and making a pillow of my boots and cap, slept soundly and heavily.

Since May 1 I had had no proper sleep.

When I woke it was already dark, and the storm still howled through the wood.

I

was now so tortured by hunger that I began to eat grass, flowers, and reed shoots.

There were numbers of young frogs in the pool.

They were bitter, but I pinched their necks and swallowed them whole.

After eating my supper I collected a store of branches to keep up a fire during the night, and then I crept into my lair in the thicket and gazed into the fire for a couple of hours while the storm raged outside.

Then I went to sleep again.

At dawn on May 7 I crept out of the thicket and decided to march southwards until I met with human beings.

This time I took water with me in my boots, but after a few hours my feet were so sore and blistered that I had to bind them up in long strips of my shirt.

At length to my delight I found a sheepfold on the bank; it had evidently not been used for a long time, but it showed that shepherds must live in the woods somewhere.

At noon heat and fatigue drove me into the wood again, where I ate a breakfast of grass and reeds.

After a rest I wandered on again hour after hour towards the south, but at eight o'clock I could go no farther, and before it became quite dark I tried to make myself comfortable on a small space sheltered by poplars and bushes, and there as usual I lighted my camp fire.

I had nothing else to do but lie and stare into the flames and listen to the curious mournful sounds in the wood.

Sometimes I heard tapping steps and dry twigs cracking.

It might be tigers, but I trusted that they would not venture to attack me just when I had been saved in such a remarkable manner.

I rose on May 8 while it was still dark, and sought for a path in the wood, but I had not gone far before the trees became scattered and came to an end, and the dismal yellow desert lay before me.

I knew it only too well, and made haste back to the river-bed.

I rested during the hot hours of the day in the shadow of a poplar and then set off again.

I now followed the right bank of the river, and shortly before sunset stopped dead before a remarkable sight--the fresh track of two barefooted men who had driven four asses northwards.

It was hopeless to try and overtake these wayfarers, and therefore I followed their track in the opposite direction.

I travelled more quickly than usual, the evening was calm and still, twilight fell over the wood.

At a jutting point of the bank I seemed to hear an unusual sound, and held my breath to listen.

But the wood was still sad and dreary.

"Perhaps it was a warbler or a thrush," I thought, and walked on.

A

little later I pulled up again.

This time I heard quite plainly a man's voice and the low of a cow.