Travels into Bokhara E-Book

Alexander Burnes

• Herausgeber: Eland Publishing
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

At the age of only twenty six, Alexander Burnes proved himself to be one of the most effective intelligence agents of his time. Making two dangerous journeys beyond the frontiers of the Indian Empire, he reported back via the East India Company to Downing Street on the geography and politics of the kingdoms that lay to the northwest as far as fabled Bokhara. He travelled simply, disguised as a local, but with his rapier-like mind, an ear for languages and an infectious charm and curiosity, he had a formidable arsenal of talents at his command. In 1835, the publication of Burnes's Travels into Bokhara made him a celebrity in London, where he lectured to packed halls and was even given an audience by the King. This brand new edition brings the heady sense of excitement, risk and zeal bursting from the pages.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title Page

Editor’s Note

Introduction

Preface to the First Edition

PART ONE THE NARRATIVE OF A VOYAGE ON THE INDUS

Introduction

I Voyage from Cutch to Tatta

II Tatta to Hydrabad

III Voyage to Bukkur

IV The Country of Bhawul Khan

V Voyage in the Country of the Seiks

VI Lahore

VII Upper India – Delhi

PART TWO AN ACCOUNT OF A JOURNEY FROM INDIA TO CABOOL, TARTARY AND PERSIA

I Lahore

II Across the Punjab to the Indus

III Peshawur

IV Journey to Cabool

V Cabool

VI Journey over the Hindoo Koosh, or Snowy Mountains

VII Serious Difficulties – a Journey to Koondooz

VIII Balkh – and Continuation of the Journey to Bokhara

IX Bokhara

X Bokhara

XI Detention in the Kingdom of Bokhara

XII Journey in the Desert of the Toorkmuns

XIII Continuation of the Journey in the Toorkmun Desert

XIV Meshed and Khorasan

Letter to Lieutenant Alexander Burnes from Lord William Bentinck

Epilogue

Copyright

EDITOR’S NOTE

Burnes’s book was originally published in three volumes and I have, inevitably, had to condense some passages and omit others altogether, but this single-volume version is still very much Burnes’s work. I have only intruded my own comments where something – perhaps obvious at the time – may need to be explained to a modern reader, and I believe his good spirits, and irrepressible interest in everything he encountered, still come across today, in spite of the more ponderous style of writing of the 1830s. Spellings of proper names may at first seem bizarre, for there was no standard transliteration in Burnes’s day, and he evidently tried to render them as phonetically as possible. (For instance, ‘Daoodpootra’ would usually now be spelt ‘Daudputra’.) But I have kept the original spellings, because in some cases there is no easily found modern equivalent. Where there is, I have put it in square brackets the first time the word is encountered.

For anyone wanting to read more on the subjects covered in this book, I would suggest John Keay’s India for the historical background to the Indus voyage and India’s highly complicated history in general, and Peter Hopkirk’s The Great Game for the Central Asian journey and the political contest between Russia and British India. I found them both invaluable.

INTRODUCTION

In the Spring of 1831, Sindhi villagers taking a morning walk along the banks of the Indus might have stumbled across a rather unusual sight: five huge dapple-grey Suffolk dray horses being punted peacefully upriver, in the company of a gilt velvet-lined state carriage. Floating past the crumbling remains of the former riverside camps of Alexander the Great, Hindu temples, Sufi shrines and Mughal fortresses, the five Suffolk drays munched their way up the Indus until they reached Lahore, the capital of the Sikh leader Ranjit Singh to whom the horses and carriage were being sent as diplomatic gifts. On the way, ‘the little English elephants’ caused a sensation among the horse-obsessed Punjabis who had never seen their like before: ‘For the first time,’ wrote their minder Alexander Burnes, a young Scottish officer in the service of the East India Company, ‘a dray horse was expected to gallop, canter and perform all the evolutions of the most agile animal.’

In the days that followed, the Suffolk drays and their minder were given a state reception. A guard of cavalry and a regiment of infantry were sent to meet them. ‘The coach, which was a handsome vehicle, headed the procession,’ wrote Burnes, ‘and in the rear of the dray horses we ourselves followed on elephants, with the officers of the maharajah. We passed close under the city walls and entered Lahore by the palace gate. The streets were lined with cavalry, artillery and infantry, all of which saluted as we passed. The concourse of people was immense; they had principally seated themselves on the balconies of houses, and preserved a most respectful silence.’

The British party was led across the courtyard of the old Mughal fort, and into the entrance of the great arcaded marble reception room, the Diwan-i-Khas. ‘Whilst stooping to remove my shoes,’ Burnes continued, ‘I suddenly found myself in the tight embrace of a diminutive, old-looking man.’ This was none other than Ranjit Singh, the Lion of the Punjab himself. Taking Burnes by the hand, he brought him into the court where ‘all of us were seated on silver chairs, in front of his Highness.’

The journey of Alexander Burnes up the Indus to Lahore, and then on to the then almost completely unknown Muslim emirates of Kabul and Bukhara, was one of the celebrated feats of Victorian travel and exploration, and later became the subject of one of the most famous travel books of the era – Burnes’s Travels into Bokhara. It was also one of the defining opening moves of the Great Game. For Burnes was not really travelling as a diplomat, or for pleasure, or even out of scholarly curiosity. He had been sent by the Governor General of India, who himself was acting on orders from Downing Street, as an East India Company spy. Burnes was in fact one the most effective intelligence agents of his generation.

Alexander Burnes was an energetic, ambitious and resourceful young Highland Scot, the son of the Provost of Montrose. He was fluent in Persian, Arabic and Hindustani, and had an enviably clear and lively prose style. Like many others who would play the Great Game after him, it was Burnes’s intelligence and above all his skill in languages that got him his promotion, and despite coming from a relatively modest background in a remote part of Eastern Scotland, he rose faster in the ranks than any of his richer and better-connected contemporaries. A small, broad-faced man, he had a high forehead, deeply inset eyes and a quizzical set to his mouth which hinted at both his enquiring nature and his sense of humour, something he shared with his cousin, the poet Robbie Burns.

His journey was part of a British plan to map the Indus and the passes of the Hindu Kush, and so gather intelligence on an increasingly crucial area of the world. Since seeing off Napoleon in 1812, the Russians had moved their frontier south and eastwards almost as fast as the East India Company had moved theirs north and westwards, and it was becoming increasingly evident that the two empires would at some point come into collision. British imperial strategists were beginning to fear that the armies of the Russian Empire were primed to march south through Central Asia to capture Afghanistan, before moving in for the checkmate: to wrest India from Britain. Lord Ellenborough, the hawkish President of the Company’s Board of Control, who was also the minister with responsibility for India in the Duke of Wellington’s cabinet, was one of the first to turn this anxiety into policy: ‘Our policy in Asia must follow one course only,’ he wrote. ‘To limit the power of Russia.’

By authorising a major new programme of intelligence gathering in Central Asia, Ellenborough effectively gave birth to the Great Game, creating an Anglo-Russian rivalry in the Himalayas where none had existed before. From this point on a succession of young Indian army officers and political agents would be despatched to the Hindu Kush and the Pamirs, sometimes in disguise, sometimes on ‘shooting leave’, to learn the languages and tribal customs, to map the rivers and passes, and to assess the difficulty of crossing the mountains and deserts.

Burnes was the trailblazer. As the dray horses looked out over the green grass of the Indus floodplains, Burnes and his companions began this process by discreetly taking soundings and bearings, measuring the flow of the river, and preparing detailed maps and flow charts, proving that the river Indus was navigable as far as Lahore. From Afghanistan and Bukhara they again produced maps and detailed notes on the roads threading through the Hindu Kush.

None of this, however, prevented Burnes enjoying himself and writing one of the great accounts of the region in between his official duties. For two months, Ranjit laid on a round of entertainments for Burnes. Dancing girls danced, troops were manoeuvred, deer were hunted, monuments visited and banquets were eaten. Burnes even tried some of Ranjit’s home-made hell-brew, a fiery distillation of raw spirit, crushed pearls, musk, opium, gravy and spices, two glasses of which was normally enough to knock-out the most hardened British drinker, but which Ranjit recommended to Burnes as a cure for his dysentery. Burnes and Ranjit, the Scot and the Sikh, found themselves bonding over a shared taste for firewater.

At their final dinner, Ranjit agreed to show Burnes his most precious possession, the Koh-i-Nur: ‘Nothing,’ wrote Burnes, ‘can be imagined more superb than this stone; it is of the finest water, about half the size of an egg. Its weight amounts to 3½ rupees, and if such a jewel is to be valued, I am informed it is worth 3½ millions of money.’ Ranjit then presented Burnes with two richly carparisoned horses, dressed in costly Kashmiri shawls, with their necks adorned with necklaces of agate, and with herons plumes rising from between their ears. While Burnes thanked Ranjit for the present, one of the dray horses was paraded for a final inspection, now decked in cloth of gold and saddled with an elephant’s howdah.

Burnes clearly had immense charm and the normally watchful and suspicious Ranjit wrote to the Governor General the day of Burnes’ departure to say how much he had enjoyed meeting this ‘nightingale of the garden of eloquence, this bird of the winged words of sweet discourse.’ When Burnes continued his journey into Afghanistan, the Afghans were no less delighted by him: the first chieftain he came across as he set foot on the Afghan bank of the Indus told him that he and his friends could ‘feel as secure as eggs under a hen.’ Burnes duly repaid the affection: ‘I thought Peshawar a delightful place,’ he wrote to his mother in Montrose a month later, ‘until I came to Kabul: truly this is paradise … I tell them about steam ships, armies, ships, medicine, and all the wonders of Europe; and, in return, they enlighten me regarding the customs of their country, its history, state factions, trade &c …’

Burnes liked the place, liked its people, enjoyed its poetry and landscapes, and he admired its rulers. He went on to describe his warm reception by the Emir of Kabul, Dost Mohammad Khan, and described the sparkling intelligence of his conversation, as well as the beauties of the gardens and fruit trees of his palace, the Bala Hisar with its groves of ‘peaches, plums, apricots, mulberries, pomegranates and vines... There were also nightingales, blackbirds, thrushes and doves... and chattering magpies on almost every tree.’ If Burnes had charmed Dost Mohammad and his Afghans, they, in turn, had charmed him.

WILLIAM DALRYMPLE

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

In the year 1831 I was deputed in a political capacity to the Court of Lahore, charged with a letter from the King of England, and a present of some horses, to the ruler of that country. The principal object of my journey was to trace the course of the Indus, which had only been crossed at particular points by former travellers, and had never been surveyed but between Tatta and Hydrabad. My success in that undertaking, which was attended with many difficulties, and the sight of so many tribes hitherto little known, gave fresh strength to a desire that I had always felt to see new countries, and visit the conquests of Alexander. As the first European of modern times who had navigated the Indus, I now found myself stimulated to extend my journey beyond that river – the scene of romantic achievements which I had read of in early youth with the most intense interest.

The design received the most liberal encouragement from the Governor-General of India, Lord William Bentinck, whom I joined at Simla, in the Himalaya Mountains, after the termination of my mission to Lahore. His Lordship was of opinion that a knowledge of the general condition of the countries through which I was to travel, would be useful to the British Government, independent of other advantages which might be expected from such a journey.

The hazardous nature of the expedition, and the mode in which it could be best accomplished, required consideration. It would have been objectionable, and highly imprudent, to have entered the countries lying between India and Europe, as I had voyaged on the Indus, an accredited agent; and I was directed to appear (which I myself had suggested) as a private individual.

I was furnished with passports as a Captain in the British army returning to Europe, drawn out in French, English and Persian; and in such terms as would satisfy the people of my real character; and show, at the same time, that Government was interested in my good treatment.

Every other arrangement regarding the journey was left to myself; and I received the sanction of the Governor-General to associate with me Ensign John Leckie – a young officer of the most buoyant disposition, who had been the companion of my voyage up the Indus. On the eve of departure, my fellow-traveller was recalled by the Government of Bombay. Believing that his place might be well supplied by a medical gentleman, which I thought would facilitate our progress through such countries, I gave to Mr James Gerard, a Surgeon of the Bengal army, the option to accompany me. That gentleman had passed most of his life in India, in traversing the Himalaya regions; and possessed an ardent desire for travel. I was also attended by a native Surveyor, Mahommed Ali, a public servant, who had been educated in the Engineer Institution of Bombay, under Captain G. Jervis, of the Engineers; and who had entitled himself to my utmost confidence by faithful and devoted conduct on many trying occasions during the voyage to Lahore. I also took a Hindoo lad, of Cashmere family, named Mohun Lal, who had been educated at the English Institution at Delhi, as he would assist me in my Persian correspondence, the forms of which amount to a science in the East. His youth and his creed would, I believed, free me from all danger of his entering into intrigues with the people; and both he and the Surveyor proved themselves to be zealous and trustworthy men, devoted to our interests. Being natives, they could detach themselves from us; and, by reducing our retinue, preserve our character as poor people, which I ever considered our best safeguard. We discharged the whole of our Indian servants but one individual, Ghoolam Hoosn, who demands my lasting gratitude for the hardships which he underwent on my account, and who is yet my faithful servant.

From the time I made up my mind to traverse the countries that lie between India and the Caspian, I determined to retain the character of an European, accommodating myself in dress, habits, and customs, to those with whom I should mingle. The sequel has proved that the design had much to recommend it, though the character involved us in some difficulties. I adopted the resolution, however, in an utter hopelessness of supporting the disguise of a native; and from having observed that no European traveller has ever journeyed in such countries without suspicion, and seldom without discovery. From long intercourse with Asiatics, I had acquired some insight into their character, and possessed at the same time a fair colloquial knowledge of the Persian language, the lingua franca of the people I should meet. I did not, then, hesitate to appear among them in their own garb, and avow myself a foreigner. By all the accounts which I collected, it did not appear to me that there was any just cause for apprehending personal injury or danger; but I received little consolation from my friends in India, who referred to the fate of our predecessors, poor Moorcroft and his party, as our inevitable lot. [William Moorcroft, Superintendent of the East India Company’s stud, who roamed Central Asia looking for a supply of suitable horses, died in mysterious circumstances, together with all his companions, in 1825 after visiting Bokhara.] I trust, however, that the happy termination of this journey will give a more favourable impression of the Asiatic character, and stimulate others (which I shall consider a high reward) to view and visit these lands.

[Burnes concludes his preface to the First Edition with acknowledgments to all those who helped and encouraged him, and begs the reader to bear in mind that it had been written while he was in ‘constant employment’ in India, and put together for publication very hurriedly. This evidently did not inhibit sales, for nearly 900 copies sold in a single day. A second impression was speedily brought out by his publisher, John Murray of Albemarle Street, and a corrected and slightly amended Second Edition appeared the following year.]

London, June 6th, 1834.

PART ONE

The Narrative of a Voyage on the Indus

INTRODUCTION

I was employed as an officer of the Quartermaster-General’s department for several years, in the province of Cutch [Kutch]. In the course of inquiries into its geography and history, I visited the eastern mouth of the Indus, to which the country adjoins, as well as that singular tract called the ‘Run’ [Rann], into which that river flows. The extension of our knowledge in that quarter served only to excite further curiosity, in which I was stimulated by Lieut-General Sir Thomas Bradford, then Commander-in-chief of the Bombay army. That officer directed his views, in a most enlightened manner, to the acquisition of every information regarding a frontier so important to Britain as that of North-western India. Encouraged by such approbation, for which I am deeply grateful, I volunteered my services, in the year 1829, to traverse the deserts between India and the Indus, and finally endeavour to descend that river to the sea. Such a journey involved matters of political moment; but the government of Bombay was then held by an individual distinguished above all others by zeal in the cause of Asiatic geography and literature. Sir John Malcolm despatched me at once, in prosecution of the design, and was pleased to remove me to the political branch of the service, observing that I should be then invested ‘with influence with the rulers, through whose country I travelled, that would tend greatly to allay that jealousy and alarm which might impede, if they did not arrest, the progress of my enquiries’.

In the year 1830, I entered the desert, accompanied by Lieut. James Holland, of the Quartermaster-General’s department, an officer ably qualified. After reaching Jaysulmeer, we were overtaken by an express from the Supreme Government of India, desiring us to return, since at that time, ‘it was deemed inexpedient to incur the hazard of exciting the alarm and jealousy of the rulers of Sinde [Sindh], and other foreign states, by the prosecution of the design’. This disappointment, then most acutely felt, was dissipated in the following year, by the arrival of presents from the King of Great Britain for the ruler of Lahore, coupled, at the same time, with a desire that such an opportunity for acquiring correct information of the Indus should not be overlooked. This volume contains the narrative of the mission, which I conducted by the Indus to Lahore. My subsequent journey into Bokhara occupies the two last volumes of this work.

CHAPTER I

Voyage from Cutch to Tatta

In the year 1830, a ship arrived at Bombay with a present of five horses from the King of Great Britain to Maharaja Runjeet Sing [Ranjit Singh], the Seik [Sikh] chieftain at Lahore, accompanied by a letter of friendship from his majesty’s minister to that prince. At the recommendation of Major-General Sir John Malcolm, then governor of Bombay, I had the honour of being nominated by the Supreme Government of India to proceed on a mission to the Seik capital, with these presents, by way of the river Indus. I held at that time a political situation in Cutch, the only portion of the British dominions in India which borders on the Indus.

The authorities, both in England and India, contemplated that much information of a political and geographical nature might be acquired in such a journey. The knowledge which we possessed of the Indus was vague and unsatisfactory, and the only accounts of a great portion of its course were drawn from Arrian, Curtius, and the other historians of Alexander’s expedition. Sir John Malcolm thus minuted in the records of government, in August 1830:

The navigation of the Indus is important in every point of view; yet we have no information that can be depended upon on this subject, except of about seventy miles from Tatta to Hydrabad [Hyderabad]. Of the present state of the Delta we have native accounts, and the only facts which can be deduced are, that the different streams of the river below Tatta often change their channels, and that the sands of all are constantly shifting; but, notwithstanding these difficulties, boats of a small draft of water can always go up the principal of them. With regard to the Indus above Hydrabad, there can be no doubt of its being, as it has been for more than two thousand years, navigable far up.

In addition, therefore, to the complimentary mission on which I was to be employed, I had my attention most specially directed to the acquisition of full and complete information regarding the Indus. This was a matter of no easy accomplishment, as the Ameers, or rulers of Sinde, had ever evinced the utmost jealousy of Europeans, and none of the missions which visited the country had been permitted to proceed beyond their capital of Hydrabad. The river Indus, likewise, in its course to the ocean, traverses the territories of many lawless and barbarous tribes, from whom both opposition and insult might be dreaded. On these matters much valuable advice was derived from Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Pottinger, political resident in Cutch, and well known to the world for his adventurous travels in Beloochistan. [Henry Pottinger, then a lieutenant, carried out a daring and perilous survey of Beluchistan in 1810, and his book Travels in Beloochistan and Sinde was published in 1816.] He suggested that it might allay the fears of the Sinde government, if a large carriage were sent with the horses, since the size and bulk of it would render it obvious that the mission could then only proceed by water. This judicious proposal was immediately adopted by the government; nor was it in this case alone that the experience of Colonel Pottinger availed me, as it will be seen that he evinced the most unwearied zeal throughout the difficulties which presented themselves, and contributed, in a great degree, to the ultimate success of the undertaking.

That a better colour might also be given to my deputation by a route so unfrequented, I was made the bearer of presents to the Ameers of Sinde, and at the same time charged with communications of a political nature to them. These referred to some excesses committed by their subjects on the British frontier; but I was informed that neither that, nor any other negotiation, was to detain me in my way to Lahore. The authorities in England had desired that a suitable escort might accompany the party; but though the design was not free from some degree of danger, it was evident that no party of any moderate detail could afford the necessary protection. I preferred, therefore, the absence of any of our troops, and resolved to trust to the people of the country; believing that, through their means, I might form a link of communication with the inhabitants. Sir John Malcolm observed, in his letter to the Governor-General, that ‘the guard will be people of the country he visits, and those familiar with it. Lieut. Burnes prefers such, on the justest grounds, to any others; finding they facilitate his progress, while they disarm that jealousy which the appearance of any of our troops excites.’ Nor were my sentiments erroneous; since a guard of wild Belooches protected us in Sinde, and allayed suspicion.

When these preliminary arrangements had been completed, I received my final instructions in a secret letter from the chief secretary at Bombay. I was informed that ‘the depth of water in the Indus, the direction and breadth of the stream, its facilities for steam navigation, the supply of fuel on its banks, and the condition of the princes and people who possess the country bordering on it, are all points of the highest interest to government; but your own knowledge and reflection will suggest to you various other particulars, in which full information is highly desirable; and the slow progress of the boats up the Indus will, it is hoped, give you every opportunity to pursue your researches.’ I was supplied with all the requisite surveying instruments, and desired to draw bills on honour for my expenses. In a spirit also characteristic of the distinguished individual who then held the government, I received the thanks of Sir John Malcolm for my previous services; had my attention drawn to the confidence now reposed in me; and was informed that my knowledge of the neighbouring countries and the character of their inhabitants, with the local impressions by which I was certain to be aided, gave me advantages which no other individual enjoyed, and had led to my selection; nor could I not be stimulated by the manner in which Sir John Malcolm addressed the Governor-General of India: ‘I shall be very confident of any plan Lieut. Burnes undertakes in this quarter of India: provided a latitude is given him to act as circumstances may dictate, I dare pledge myself that the public interests will be promoted. Having had my attention much directed, and not without success, during more than thirty years, to the exploring and surveying countries in Asia, I have gained some experience, not only in the qualities and habits of the individuals by whom such enterprises can be undertaken, but of the pretexts and appearances necessary to give them success.’ A young, active, and intelligent officer, Ensign J. D. Leckie, of the 22nd Regiment N.I., was directed to accompany me; a surveyor, a native doctor, and suitable establishments of servants were likewise entertained.

We sailed from Mandivee [Mandvi] in Cutch with a fleet of five native boats, on the morning of the 21st of January, 1831. On the day succeeding our departure, we had cleared the Gulf of Cutch. The danger in navigating it has been exaggerated. The eddies and dirty appearance of the sea, which boils up and bubbles like an effervescing draught, present a frightful aspect to a stranger, but the natives traverse it at all seasons. It is tolerably free from rocks, and the Cutch shore is sandy with little surf, and presents inducements for vessels in distress to run in upon the land. We passed a boat of fifty tons, which had escaped shipwreck, with a very valuable cargo from Mozambique, the preceding year, by this expedient.

Among the timid navigators of the East, the mariner of Cutch is truly adventurous: he voyages to Arabia, the Red Sea, and the coast of Zanguebar [Zanzibar] in Africa, bravely stretching out on the ocean after quitting his native shore. The ‘moallim’ or pilot determines his position by an altitude at noon or by the stars at night, with a rude quadrant. Coarse charts depict to him the bearings of his destination, and, by long-tried seamanship, he weathers, in an undecked boat with a huge lateen sail, the dangers and tornadoes of the Indian Ocean. This use of the quadrant was taught by a native of Cutch, who made a voyage to Holland in the middle of last century, and returned, ‘in a green old age’, to enlighten his country with the arts and sciences of Europe. The most substantial advantages introduced by this improver of his country were the arts of navigating and naval architecture, in which the inhabitants of Cutch excel. For a trifling reward, a Cutch mariner will put to sea in the rainy season, and the adventurous feeling is encouraged by the Hindoo merchants of Mandivee, an enterprising and speculating body of men.

On the evening of the 24th we had cleared the Gulf of Cutch and anchored in the mouth of the Koree [Kori], the eastern, though forsaken, branch of the Indus, which separates Sinde from Cutch. The Koree leads to Lucput [Lakhpat], and is the largest of all the mouths of the river, having become a branch of the sea as the fresh water has been turned from its channel. There are many spots on its banks hallowed in the estimation of the people. Cotasir and Narainseer are places of pilgrimage to the Hindoo, and stand upon the western promontory of Cutch. Opposite them lies the cupola of Rao Kanoje, beneath which there rests a saint, revered by the Mahommedans. To defraud this personage of frankincense, grain, oil, and money, in navigating the Koree, would entail, it is superstitiously believed, certain shipwreck. In this reverence we recognise the dangers and fear of the mariner. There is a great contrast between the shores of Sinde and Cutch; the one is flat and depressed, nearly to a level with the sea, while the hills of Cutch rise in wild and volcanic cones, which meet the eye long after the coast has faded from the view. We gladly exchanged this grandeur for the dull monotony of the shores of Sinde, unvaried as it is, by any other signs of vegetation than stunted shrubs, whose domain is invaded by each succeeding tide.

We followed the Sinde coast for four or five days, passing all the mouths of the Indus, eleven in number, the principal of which we entered and examined, without even the observation of the inhabitants. There was little indication of our being near the estuary of so great a river, for the water was only fresh a mile off shore from the Gora, or largest mouth of the Indus; and the junction of the river water with that of the sea was formed without violence, and might be now and then discovered by a small streak of foam and a gentle ripple. The number and subdivision of the branches diminish, no doubt, the velocity as well as the volume of the Indus; but it would be supposed that so vast a river would exercise an influence in the sea far from its embouchure; and I believe this is really the case in the months of July and August, during the inundation. The waters of the Indus are so loaded with mud and clay as to discolour the sea for about three miles from the land. Opposite its different mouths numberless brown specks are to be seen, called ‘pit’ by the natives. I found them, on examination, to be round globules, filled with water, and easily burst. When placed on a plate, they were about the size of a shilling, and covered by a brown skin. These specks are considered by the pilots to denote the presence of fresh water among the salt; for they believe them to be detached from the sand banks, by the meeting of the sea and the river. They give a particularly dirty and oily appearance to the water.

At nightfall on the 28th, we cast anchor in the western mouth of the Indus, called the Pittee. The coast of Sinde is not distinguishable a league from the shore. There is not a tree to be seen, though the mirage sometimes magnifies the stunted shrubs of the Delta, and gives them a tall and verdant appearance; a delusion that vanishes with a nearer approach. From our anchorage, a white fortified tomb, in the Bay of Curachee [Karachi], was visible north-west of us; and beyond it lay a rocky range of black mountains, called Hala, the Irus of Nearchus. I here read from Arrian and Quintus Curtius the passages of this memorable scene in Alexander’s expedition, the mouth from which his admiral, Nearchus, took his departure from Sinde. The river did not exceed 500 yards in width, instead of the 200 stadia (furlongs) of Arrian, and the twelve miles which more modern accounts had assigned to it, on the authority of the natives. But there was still some resemblance to the Greek author; for the hills over Curachee form with the intervening country a semicircular bay, in which an island and some sand-banks might lead a stranger to believe, that the ocean was yet distant.

[Here Burnes quotes the Classical authors at length, as he does at intervals throughout his travels. Arrian – a Graeco-Roman soldier, philosopher and historian, who was also a Roman senator and friend of the emperor Hadrian – wrote his history of the campaigns of Alexander of Macedon in the early second century AD. Although this was nearly 400 years after Alexander’s exploits, Arrian had access to writings by Ptolemy and Nearchus, both of whom were among Alexander’s generals, and many of whose works have since been lost. Burnes, who had been fired by ‘the most intense interest’ in the ‘romantic achievements’ of Alexander the Great since his school-days, now – at the age of twenty-six – found himself following in the footsteps of his namesake and hero. With his well-thumbed editions of the ancient texts always close to hand, he was able to compare his own observations of the land, its people and monuments with those of Alexander’s officers during the conquest of Central Asia over 2,000 years previously. For reasons of space I have regretfully reduced or omitted many of these passages.]

I must not now dwell on these subjects, though eminently interesting; but, in the course of my narrative, I shall endeavour to identify the modern Indus with the features of remoter times. It is difficult to describe the enthusiasm which one feels on first beholding the scenes that have exercised the genius of Alexander.

The jealousy of the Sinde government had been often experienced, and it was therefore suggested that we should sail for the Indus, without giving any previous information. Immediately on anchoring, I despatched a communication to the agent of the Ameers at Darajee, signifying my plans; and, in the meanwhile, ascended the river with caution, anchoring in the fresh water on the second evening, thirty-five miles from the sea. Near the mouth of the river, we passed a rock stretching across the stream, which is particularly mentioned by Nearchus, who calls it ‘a dangerous rock’, and is the more remarkable, since there is not even a stone below Tatta in any other part of the Indus. We passed many villages, and had much to enliven and excite our attention, had we not purposely avoided all intercourse with the people till made acquainted with the fate of our intimation to the authorities at Darajee. A day passed in anxious suspense; but on the following morning, a body of armed men crowded round our boats, and the whole neighbourhood was in a state of the greatest excitement. The party stated themselves to be the soldiers of the Ameer, sent to number our party, and see the contents of all the boats, as well as every box that they contained. I gave a ready and immediate assent; and we were instantly boarded by about fifty armed men, who wrenched open everything, and prosecuted the most rigorous search for cannon and gunpowder. Mr Leckie and myself stood by in amazement, till it was at length demanded that the box containing the large carriage should be opened; for they pretended to view it as the Greeks had looked on the wooden horse, and believed that it would carry destruction into Sinde. A sight of it disappointed their hopes; and we must be conjurors, it was asserted, to have come without arms and ammunition.

When the search had been completed, I entered into conversation with the head man of the party, and had hoped to establish, by his means, a friendly connection with the authorities; but after a short pause this personage, who was a Reis of Lower Sinde, intimated that a report of the day’s transactions would be forthwith transmitted to Hydrabad; and that, in the meanwhile, it was incumbent on us to await the decision of the Ameer, at the mouth of the river. The request appeared reasonable; the more so, since the party agreed to furnish us with every supply while so situated. We therefore weighed anchor, and dropped down the river, but here our civilities ended. By the way we were met by several ‘dingies’ full of armed men, and at night were hailed by one of them, to know how many troops we had on board. We replied that we had not even a musket. ‘The evil is done,’ rejoined a rude Belooche soldier, ‘you have seen our country; but we have four thousand men ready for action!’ To this vainglorious observation succeeded torrents of abuse, and when we reached the mouth of the river, the party fired their matchlocks over us: but I dropped anchor and resolved, if possible, to repel these insults by personal remonstrance. It was useless: we were surrounded by ignorant barbarians, who shouted out, in reply to all I said, that they had been ordered to turn us out of the country. I protested against their conduct in the most forcible language; reminded them that I was the representative, however humble, of a great Government, charged with presents from Royalty; and added that, without a written document from their master, I should decline quitting Sinde. An hour’s delay served to convince me that personal violence would ensue if I persisted in such a resolution and, as it was not my object to risk the success of the enterprise by such collision, I sailed for the most eastern mouth of the Indus, from which I addressed the authorities in Sinde, as well as Colonel Pottinger, the Resident in Cutch.

I was willing to believe that the soldiers had exceeded the authority which had been granted them; and was speedily put in possession of a letter from the Ameer, couched in friendly terms, but narrating, at great length, the difficulty and impossibility of navigating the Indus. ‘The boats are so small,’ said his Highness, ‘that only four or five men can embark in one of them; their progress is likewise slow; they have neither masts nor sails; and the depth of the water in the Indus is likewise so variable as not to reach, in some places, the knee or waist of a man.’ But this formidable enumeration of physical obstacles was coupled with no refusal from the Ruler himself, and it seemed expedient, therefore, to make a second attempt, after replying to his Highness’s letter.

[The expedition made their second attempt on 10th February but were thwarted by a violent storm which buffeted them about for several days, splitting their sails and dismasting two of the vessels. Burnes sent a letter to the agents at Darajee protesting at their failure to honour their undertaking to keep the British party supplied while permission to proceed was being sorted out, but there was no reply. By now food and water were running low, and when Burnes sent a small boat to procure water, it was seized together with its occupants. There was no option now but to retreat from Sindh and return to Kutch, but on 22nd of February they were caught in an even worse storm in which all the flat-bottomed boats were engulfed by the racing tide. Miraculously they all survived and managed to limp back to Mandvi, with the carriage and dray horses unharmed.

Burnes was full of admiration for the zeal, bravery and loyalty of his crew, but he was forced to recognise that the Amir of Sindh was decidedly unfriendly and that a covert survey of the Indus was not going to be easy. The native agent who represented the interests of the British Government at Hyderabad confirmed with some amusement that the Amir feared that Burnes’s little flotilla was the precursor of a full-scale invasion, and also pointed out that his pride was now involved: having said in his letter that the river was totally unnavigable, how could he allow the British to proceed? It would soon be obvious to them that the Indus was in fact full of boats. This was why the Amir had not replied to the Lieutenant’s letter.

Finally, after an intervention by Colonel Pottinger in which he pointed out what an unfortunate impression the Amir’s unhelpful conduct would make on the King of England, whose royal presents were being conveyed, Burnes and his party set out again on their third attempt to sail up the Indus.]

On the 10th of March we once more set sail for the Indus, and reached the Hujamree, one of the central mouths of the river, after a prosperous voyage of seven days. We could hire no pilot to conduct us across the bar, and took the wrong and shallow mouth of the river, ploughing up the mud as we tacked in its narrow channel. The foremost vessel loosened her red ensign when she had fairly reached the deep water, and, with the others, we soon and joyfully anchored near her. We were now met by an officer of the Sinde Government, one of the favoured descendants of the Prophet, whose enormous corpulence bespoke his condition. This personage came to the mouth of the river, for we were yet refused all admittance to the fresh water. He produced a letter from the Ameer, and repeated the same refuted arguments of his master, which he seemed to think should receive credit from his high rank. It would be tiresome to follow the Sindians through the course of chicanery which they adopted, even in this stage of the proceedings. An embargo was laid on all the vessels in the Indus and we ourselves were confined to our boats, on a dangerous shore, and even denied fresh water. The officer urged the propriety of our taking a route by land and, as a last resource, I offered to accompany him to the capital, by way of Tatta, and converse with the Ameer in person, having previously landed the horses.

[Many frustrating days of stalemate ensued, in which the Sindhians did their utmost to persuade Burnes to travel to Lahore by land, but he knew that he must not give way or the primary object of the expedition would be defeated. After exchanges of letters which tested Burnes’s powers of diplomacy – and patience – to the full, he was finally given permission to proceed by water.]