The Shrieks Of The
Poor Woman Having Summoned The Neighbours, He Was Seized, Bound, And
Led Before The Khan, Who At Once Sentenced Him To Death.
The execution
was fixed for sunrise the following day.
At midnight, however,
a messenger appeared at the gates of the Mir with a canvas bag
containing two thousand rupees. "Tell him he is free," said the ruler
of Kelat. "And if he sends in another thousand, I will _order_ the
younger sister to marry him." The money was paid, and the poor child
handed over to the tender mercies of the human devil who had so
ruthlessly butchered her sister.
I have mentioned that Azim Khan showed me a sword of beautiful
workmanship. It had, the very morning of my visit to the palace, cut
down and hacked to pieces a waiting-maid, not sixteen years old, in
the Khan's harem. I myself saw the corpse of the poor girl the same
evening, as it was being carried outside the walls for interment. [C]
This, then, is the state of things existing at Kelat, not a hundred
miles from the British outposts; this the enlightened sovereign who
has been made "Companion of the Star of India," an order which, among
his own people, he affects to look upon with the greatest contempt.
The few women I saw at Kelat were distinctly good looking, far more so
than those further south. Most of them have an Italian type of face,
olive complexion, and large dark eyes, with sweeping lashes. But very
few wore the hideous nose-rings so common at Beila and Sonmiani.
Morality is at a discount in the capital, and prostitution common.
The Wazir sent me a bag of dates the morning of my departure, with
a short note, written in English, begging that I would send him in
return the best gold watch and rifle "that could be bought for gold"
in London. The note ended jocosely, "Exchange is no robbery!" The old
man seemed well _au fait_ with Central Asian affairs. On my mentioning
the day before that I had intended entering India _via_ Cabul, he at
once said, "Ah! I supposed Alikhanoff stopped you. He is very shy of
strangers."
We left Kelat at 6 a.m. on the 12th of April. The camels and heavy
baggage had been sent on four or five hours previously to Mangachar,
the first station. Our caravan now consisted of only eight camels,
which we found reduced to seven on arrival. Just before daylight a
couple of panthers had appeared close to the caravan and caused a
regular stampede, the beasts flying right and left. On order being
restored, two were found to be missing, one laden with the only small
remaining tent and some native luggage, the other with a couple of
cases of whisky (nearly empty) and my camp-stool. The former was
traced and brought in after a search of over two hours, but the latter
is still, for aught I know, careering over the boundless desert, an
unconscious advertiser of "Jameson and Co." I afterwards heard that
this plain is noted for panther and wolf, also an animal called the
"peshkori," somewhat larger than a cat, with a reddish-coloured hide.
It moves about the country in packs, carrying off deer and sheep. Its
method of descending precipices and steep hillsides is curious, each
animal fixing its teeth in the tail of another, thus forming a kind of
chain.
The plain of Mangachar is situated nearly 6000 feet above sea-level,
and is well cultivated with wheat, lucerne, and tobacco. The
village itself is neatly laid out, and contains about three hundred
inhabitants. The different aspects of the country north and south of
Kelat are striking. We had now done with deserts for good, for at
night lights were seen twinkling all over the plain, while in the
daytime large tracts of well-cultivated land continually met the eye.
Between Mangachar and Mastung a hot wind arose, which made the eyes
smart, and dried up the skin like a blast from a furnace. One's hair
felt as it does in the hottest room of a Turkish bath, with the
unpleasant addition of being filled with fine gritty sand. "I hope
this may not end in a juloh," said Kamoo, anxiously. This, my
interpreter proceeded to explain, is a hot poisonous wind peculiar to
these districts, and perhaps the greatest danger run by travellers in
Baluchistan. The warm breeze, as Kamoo called it, that we experienced
was, though almost unbearable, not dangerous, while the dreaded juloh
has slain its hundreds of victims. Cook, the traveller, who has given
this subject much attention, has come to the conclusion that it is
caused by the generation in the atmosphere of a highly concentrated
form of ozone, by some intensely marked electrical condition. As
evidence of its effect in destroying every green thing on its course,
and in being frequently fatal to human life, he cites the following
well-authenticated cases, which, not having encountered the
death-dealing blast myself, I place before the reader: -
(1) In the year 1851, during one of the hot months, certain officers
of the Sind Horse were sleeping at night on the roof of General
Jacob's house at Jacobabad. They were awakened by a sensation of
suffocation and an exceedingly hot and oppressive feeling in the air,
while at the same time a very powerful smell of sulphur was noticed.
On the following morning a number of trees in the garden were found to
be withered in a very remarkable manner. It looked as if a current of
fire, about two yards in breadth, had passed through the garden in a
perfectly straight line, singeing and destroying every green thing in
its course. Entering on one side, and passing out at the other, its
tract was as clearly defined as the course of a river.
(2) At the close of 1856 a party of five men were crossing the desert
of Shikarpur, being on their way from Kandahar to that city, when
the blast crossed their path, killing three of them instantly and
seriously disabling the other two.
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