A Holiday in the Happy Valley with Pen and Pencil Part 13

Perhaps the most noticeable objects in the Lolab are the walnut trees; they are now just coming into full leaf, and their great trunks, h.o.a.ry with age and softly velveted with dark green moss, form the n.o.ble columns of many a lovely camping-ground. We pitched our tents at Lalpura in a grove of giants, the majesty of which formed an exquisite contrast to the white foam of a cl.u.s.ter of apple trees in bloom.

It has been so hot to-day that we have stayed quietly in camp, reading, sketching, and enjoying the _dolce far niente_ of an idle life.

_Sunday, May_ 14.--On Thursday we left Lalpura and marched to Kulgam, a short distance of some eight or ten miles. Mr. Blunt, the forest officer,[1] had most kindly placed the forest bungalows of the Lolab at our disposal; but, as they all lie on the other side of the valley, we are obliged to camp every night. We have been working along the north side of the Lolab, as the shikari is full of bear "khubbar," and as long as the weather remains fair we really do not much care where we go! Skirting the foot of the wooded ridge on our right, and with the flat and populous levels of the valley on our left, we marched along a good path shaded in many places by the magnificent walnuts and snowy fruit-trees for which the Lolab is justly famed, until, crossing the Pohru by a rickety bridge, and toiling up a hot, bare slope, we reached Kulgam, nestling at the foot of the hills.

After tiffin and a short rest we set forth up the nullah behind the village to look for (need I say?) a bear. The gradient was stiff, as usual, and the path none too good. Feeling that our laborious climb deserved to be rewarded by, at any rate, the sight of game, and Ahmed Bot having sent a special message to the Lumbadhar at Kulgam directing him to keep the nullah quiet, we were justly incensed when, having toiled up some couple of thousand weary feet, we met a gay party of the _elite_ of Kulgam prancing down the hill with blankets stuffed with wild leeks, or some such delicacy.

Ahmed Bot showed reckless courage. Having overwhelmed the enemy with a vituperative broadside, he fell upon them single-handed, tore from them their cherished blankets, and spilt the leeks to the four winds.

I expected nothing less than to be promptly hurled down the khud, with Jill after me, by the six enraged burghers of Kulgam. But no. They simply sat down together on a rock, and blubbered loud and long; we sat down opposite them on another rock and laughed, and laughed--tableau!

On Friday I went for a delightful walk through the pine and deodar forests, the ostensible objective being, of course, a bear. Putting aside all ideas of sport, I gave myself up to the simple joy of mere existence in such a land; noting a handsome iris with broad red lilac blooms, which I had not seen before; listening to the intermittent voice of the cuckoo, and pausing every here and there to gaze over the fair valley, backed by its encircling ranges of sunlit mountains.

The chota shikari is a youth of great activity, both mental and physical.

He almost wept with excitement on observing the mark of a bear's paw on a dusty bit of path. He said it was a bear which had left that paw-mark, so I believed him. Late in the dusk of the afternoon he _saw_ a bear sitting looking out of a cave. I could only make out a black hole, but he saw its ears move. I regarded the spot with a powerful telescope, but only saw more hole; still, I cannot doubt the chota shikari. The burra shikari saw it too, but was of opinion that it was too late to go and bag it. I think he was right, so we went back to camp without further adventure.

Yesterday we left Kulgam, and followed up a track to a small village which lies at the foot of the track leading over to Gurais and the Tilail country. Here we camped in a grove of walnuts, which stood by an icy spring. Jane and I went for a stroll, watched a couple of small woodp.e.c.k.e.rs hunting the trunk of a young fir within a few feet of us, but retreated hurriedly to camp on the approach of a heavy thunderstorm. This was but the prelude to a bad break in the weather; all to-day it has rained in torrents, and everything is sopping and soaked. The little stream which yesterday trickled by the camp is become a young river, and it is a perfect mystery how Sabz Ali manages to cook our food over a fire guarded from the full force of the rain by blankets propped up with sticks, and how, having cooked it, he can bring it, still hot, across the twenty yards of rain-swept s.p.a.ce which intervenes between the cook-house and our tent.

_Monday, May_ 15.--The deluge continued all night, and only at about ten o'clock this forenoon did the heavy curtain of rain break up into ragged swirls of cloud, which, torn by the serrated ridges of the gloomy pines, rolled dense and dark up the gorges, resonant now with the roar of full-fed torrents.

The men are all beginning to complain of fever, and have eaten up a great quant.i.ty of quinine. Considering the dismal conditions under which they have been living for the last couple of days, this is not surprising; so, with the first promise of an improvement in the weather, we struck camp, determined to make for the forest bungalow at Doras and obtain the shelter of a solid roof. Many showers, but no serious downpour, enlivened our march, and we arrived at the snug little wooden house just in time to escape a particularly fine specimen of a thunderstorm. The Doras bungalow seemed a very palace of luxury, with its dry, airy rooms and wide verandah, all of sweet-smelling deodar wood. The men, too, were thankful to have a good roof over their heads, and we heard no more of fever.

_Wednesday, May_ 17.--Yesterday it rained without ceasing, until the valley in front of us took the appearance of a lake--A party of terns, white above and with black b.r.e.a.s.t.s, skirled and wrangled over the "casual"

water. It was still very wet this morning, but as it cleared somewhat after breakfast, we made up our minds to quit the Lolab and get back to our boat.

Doras has sad memories for Jane, for here died the "chota murghi," a black chicken endowed with the most affectionate disposition. It was permitted to sit on the lady's knee, and scratch its yellow beak with its little yellow claw; but I never cared to let it remain long upon my shoulder--a perch it ardently affected. Well! it is dead, poor dear, and whether from shock (the pony which carried its basket having fallen down with it _en route_ from "Walnut Camp"), or from a surfeit of caterpillars which were washed in myriads off the trees there, we cannot tell. Sabz Ali brought the little corpse along, holding it by one pathetic leg to show the horrified Jane, before giving it to the kites and crows. He has many "murghis" left; baskets full, as he says, for they are cheap in the Lolab, but we shall never love another so dearly.

We had a shocking time while climbing to the pa.s.s which leads over to Rampur, the road being deep in slimy mud, and so slippery that the unfortunate baggage ponies could hardly get along. Jane, who is in splendid condition now, toiled n.o.bly up a track which would have been delightful had the weather been a little less hideous.

Reaching the ridge which divides the Lolab from the Pohru Valley, we turned to the left, along the edge, instead of descending forthwith, as we had hoped and expected to do. It was raw and cold, with flying wreaths of damp mist shutting out the view, and we were glad of a comforting tiffin, swallowed somewhat hurriedly, under a forlorn and stunted specimen of a blue pine. Then on along a rough and slippery catwalk that made us wonder if the baggage ponies would achieve a safe arrival at Rampur.

Crossing a steep, rock-strewn ridge, covered with crown imperial in full flower, we began a sharp descent through a wood of deodars; and now the thunder, which had been grumbling and rumbling in the distance, came upon us, and a deafening peal sent us scurrying down the hill at our best pace; the lightning-blasted trunks stretching skywards their blackened and tempest-torn limbs in ghastly witness of what had been and what might be again.

At last we cleared the wood, and, plunging across a perfect slough of deep mud, crawled on to the verandah of the Rampur forest-house, where we sat anxiously watching the hillside until we saw our faithful ponies safely sliding down the hill.

_Thursday, May_ 18.--The changes of weather in this country are sudden and surprising. This morning we woke to a perfect day--the sun bathing the warm hillsides, the picturesque brown village, and the brilliant ma.s.ses of snowy blossoming fruit-trees with a radiant smile. And, but for the tell-tale riot of the streams and the sponginess of the compound, there was nothing to betray the past misdeeds of the clerk of the weather.

At noon we set out to cover the short distance that lay between us and Kunis, where we had made tryst with Satarah. The country was like a series of English woodland glades--watered by many purling streams, and bright with ma.s.ses of apple blossom; the turf around the trees all white and pink with petals torn from the branches by the recent storms. Clumps of fir clothed the hills with sombre green--a perfect background to a perfect picture.

The flowers all along our path to-day were much in evidence after the rain.

Little p.r.i.c.kly rose-bushes (_R. Webbiana_) were covered with pink blossoms just bursting into full glory; bushes of white may, yellow berberis, Daphne (_Oleoides?_), and many another flowering shrub grew in tangled profusion, while pimpernel (red and blue), a small androsace (_rotundifolia_), hawks-bit, stork's bill, wild geranium, a tiny mallow, eye-bright, forget-me-not, a little yellow oxalis, a speedwell, and many another, to me unknown, blossom starred the roadside. In the fields round Kunis the poppies flared, and the iris bordered the fields with a ribbon of royal purple.

We reached Kunis at two o'clock, and found the village half submerged, the water being up and over the low sh.o.r.es from the recent rain. Our boats were moored in a clump of willows, whose feet stood so deeply in the water that we had to embark on pony-back! After lunch came the usual difference of opinion with the Admiral, who seems to have great difficulty in grasping the fact that our will is law as to times and seasons for sailing.

He always a.s.sumes the role of pa.s.sive resister, and is always defeated with ignominy. He insisted that it was too late to think of reaching Bandipur, but we maintained that we could get at any rate part of the way; so he cast off from his willow-tree, and sulkily poked and poled out into the Wular, taking uncommon good care to hug the sh.o.r.e with fervour.

Here and there a group of willows standing far out into the lake, or a half-drowned village, drove us out into the open water, and once when, like a latter-day Vasco de Gama, the Admiral was striving to double the dreadful promontory of a water-logged fence, a puff of wind fell upon us, lashing the smooth water into ripples, whereupon the crew lost their wits with fright, and the lady mariners in the cook-boat set up a dismal howling; the ark, taking charge, crashed through the fence, her way carrying us to the very door of a frontier villa of an amphibious village.

With amazing alacrity the crew tied us up to the door-post, and prepared to go into winter quarters.

This did not suit us at all, and

"The harmless storm being ended,"

we ruthlessly broke away from our haven of refuge, and safely arrived at Alsu.

_Friday, May_ 19.--An ominous stillness and repose at 3 o'clock this morning sent me forth to see why the windla.s.s was not being manned. A thing like a big grey bat flapping about, proved, on inspection, to be that rascal the Lord High Admiral Satarah. He said he could not start, as the hired coolies from Kunis had been so terrified by the horrors of yesterday that they had departed in the night, sacrificing their pay rather than run any more risks with such daredevils as the mem-sahib and me. This was vexatious and entirely unexpected, as I had never before known a coolie to bolt before pay-day. Sabz Ali and Satarah were promptly despatched on a pressgang foray, while I put to sea with the first-lieutenant to show that I meant business. A crew was found in a surprisingly short time, and a frenzied dart was made for the mouth of the Jhelum.

All day we poled round the sh.o.r.e of the lake, over flooded fields where the mustard had spread its cloth of gold a short week ago, over the very hedges we had scrambled through when duck-shooting in April, until in the evening we entered the river just below Sumbal.

The towing-path was almost, in many places quite, under water, and the whole country looked most forlorn and melancholy as the sun went down--a pale yellow ball in a pale yellow haze.

_Sunday, May_ 21.--All yesterday we towed up the river against a current which ran swift and strong.

The pa.s.sage of the bridge at Surahal gave us some trouble, as the flooded river brought our upper works within a narrow distance of the highest point of the span, but we finally sc.r.a.ped through with the loss of a portion of the railing which decorated our upper deck.

The strain of towing was severe, so, when a brisk squall and threatening thunder-shower overtook us at the mouth of the Sind River, we decided to tie up there for the night.

This morning we started at four o'clock, but only reached our berth at Srinagar at two, having spent no less than six hours in forcing the boats by pole and rope for the last three miles through the town! An incredible amount of panting, pushing, yelling, and hauling, with frantic invocations to "Jampaws" and other saints, was required to enable us to crawl inch by inch against the racing water which met us in the narrow ca.n.a.l below the Palace.

All's well that ends well, and here we are once more in Srinagar, after a trip which has been really delightful, albeit the weather latterly has not been by any means all that could have been desired, and we have slain no bears![2]

[1] Commonly called the "Jungly-sahib."

[2] Can it be that Bernier was right? "Il ne s'y trouve ni serpens, ni tigres, ni ours, ni lions, si ce n'est tres rarement."--_Voyage de Kachemire_.

CHAPTER IX

SRINAGAR AGAIN

We have spent the last three weeks or so quietly in Srinagar, our boats forming links in the long chain that, during the "season," extends for miles along both banks of the river. A large contingent of amphibians dwells in the ca.n.a.l leading to the Dal gates, and the Chenar Bagh, sacred to the bachelor, shows not a spare inch along its shady length.

Not being either professional globe-trotters or Athenians, we have not felt obliged to be perpetually in high-strung pursuit of some new thing; and to the seeker after mild and modest enjoyment there is much to be said in favour of a sojourn at Srinagar.

Polo, gymkhanas, lawn-tennis, picnics, and golf are everyday occurrences, followed by a rendezvous at the club, where every one congregates for a smoke and chat, until the sun goes down behind the poplars, and the swift shikaras come darting over the stream like water-beetles to carry off the sahibs to their boats, to dress, dine, and rea.s.semble for "bridge," or perhaps a dance at Nedou's Hotel, or at that most hospitable hub of Srinagar, the Residency.

Polo is, naturally, practically restricted to the man who brings up his ponies from the Punjab, but golf is for all, and the nine-hole course, although flat, is not stale, and need not be unprofitable, unless you are fallen upon--as I was--by two stalwart Sappers, sons of Canada and potent wielders of the cleek, who gave me enough to do to keep my rupees in my pocket and the honour of the mother country upheld!

On May 26th we took shikara and paddled across the Dal Lake to see something of the Mohammedan festival, consisting in a pilgrimage to the Mosque of Hasrat Bal, where a hair of the prophet's beard is the special object of adoration.

As we neared the goal the plot thickened. Hundreds of boats--from enormous doungas containing the noisy inhabitants of, I should suppose, a whole village, down to the tiniest shikara, whose pa.s.senger was perched with careful balance to retain a margin of safety to his two inches of freeboard--converged upon the crowded bank, above which rose the mosque.

How can I best attempt to describe the din, the crush, the light, the colour? Was it like Henley? Well, perhaps it might be considered as a mad, fantastic Henley. Replace the fair ladies and the startling "blazers" with veiled houris and their lords clad in all colours of the rainbow; for one immortal "Squash" put hundreds of "squashes," all playing upon weird instruments, or singing in "a singular minor key"; let the smell of outlandish cookery be wafted to you from the "family" boats and from the bivouacs on the sh.o.r.e; let a constant uproar fall upon your ears as when the Hall defeats Third Trinity by half a length; and, finally, for the flat banks of Father Thames and the trim lawns of Phyllis Court, you must subst.i.tute the Nasim Bagh crowned with its huge chenars, and Mahadco looking down upon you from his thirteen thousand feet of precipice and snow.

Half-an-hour of this kaleidoscopic whirl of gaiety satisfied us. The sun, in spite of an awning, was a little trying, so we sought the quiet and shade of the Nasim Bagh for lunch and repose.

Returning towards Srinagar about sundown, we stopped to visit the ancient Mosque of Ha.s.sanabad, which stands on a narrow inlet or creek of the Dal Lake, shaded by chenars and willows in all their fresh spring green. A little lawn of softest turf slopes up gently to the ruined mosque, of which a portion of an apse and vaulted dome alone stand sentinel over its fallen greatness. Around lie the tombs of princes, whose bones have mouldered for eight hundred years under the irises, which wave their green sabres crowned with royal purple in the whispering twilight.