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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Through
deserts and oases of central Asia
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Through deserts and oases of central Asia

Author: Ella Sykes

Sir Percy Sykes

Release date: February 9, 2024 [eBook #72916]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Macmillan, 1920

Credits: Alan, Peter Becker and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file
was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH

DESERTS AND OASES OF CENTRAL ASIA ***
THROUGH DESERTS AND OASES
OF CENTRAL ASIA

Strike me dead, the track has vanished.

Well, what now? We’ve lost the way,
Demons have bewitched our horses,
Led us in the wilds astray.
Pushkin.
A YA-YIEH OR YAMEN RUNNER.
Frontispiece.
 THROUGH DESERTS AND
OASES OF CENTRAL ASIA

BY

Miss ELLA SYKES

F.R.G.S.
AUTHOR OF
“THROUGH PERSIA ON A SIDE-SADDLE” AND “A HOME HELP IN CANADA”

AND

Brigadier-General Sir PERCY SYKES

K.C.I.E., C.B., C.M.G.
GOLD MEDALLIST OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY
AUTHOR OF
“A HISTORY OF PERSIA” AND “THE GLORY OF THE SHIA WORLD”

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED

ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON
1920
 MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO

COPYRIGHT
 PREFACE
Few works dealing with Chinese Turkestan and the Pamirs have
been published of late years, although the Heart of Asia, where the
empires of Great Britain, Russia and China meet, can never fail to
excite our interest. Furthermore, the great trade route which ran from
China to the Roman Empire lay across Chinese Turkestan, from
which remote land silk was introduced into Europe.
The present book has been written in two parts. The chapters
composing Part I., which describe the nine months’ journey in
deserts and oases, in mountains and plains, have been written by
my sister, while I am responsible for those dealing with the
geography, history, customs and other subjects.
We are indebted to Mr. Bohlin of the Swedish Mission in Chinese
Turkestan, and to Khan Sahib, Iftikhar Ahmad of the British
Consulate-General, Kashgar, for much assistance; and also to Dr. F.
W. Thomas, of the India Office, who has read through the historical
sketch.
A good deal of new material will be found in the various chapters,
and as far as possible the subjects so ably and exhaustively dealt
with by Sir Aurel Stein have been avoided.
To my sister belongs the honour of being the first Englishwoman to
cross the dangerous passes leading to and from the Pamirs and,
with the exception of Mrs. Littledale, to visit Khotan.
We greatly enjoyed the nine months we spent in Chinese Turkestan
and on the “Roof of the World,” and if we succeed in arousing the
interest of our readers in this old-world backwater of Asia, and at the
same time convey something of its distinctive charm, our ambitions
will be fulfilled.
P. M. SYKES.
 CONTENTS
PART I
CHAPTER I
PAGE

Across the Russian Empire in War Time 3

CHAPTER II
Beyond the Tian Shan to Kashgar 18

CHAPTER III
Life at Kashgar 39

CHAPTER IV
Round about Kashgar 66

CHAPTER V
Olla Podrida 86

CHAPTER VI
On the Way to the Russian Pamirs 103

CHAPTER VII
The Roof of the World 129

CHAPTER VIII
The Aryans of Sarikol 148

CHAPTER IX
The Ancient City of Yarkand 175

CHAPTER X
Through the Desert to Khotan 191
 CHAPTER XI
Khotan the Kingdom of Jade 209

PART II
CHAPTER XII
The Geography, Government and Commerce of Chinese
Turkestan 235

CHAPTER XIII
An Historical Sketch of Chinese Turkestan: The Early
Period 248

CHAPTER XIV
An Historical Sketch of Chinese Turkestan: The
Mediaeval and Later Periods 263

CHAPTER XV
An Historical Sketch of Chinese Turkestan: The
Modern Period 275

CHAPTER XVI
A Kashgar Farmer 300

CHAPTER XVII
Manners and Customs in Chinese Turkestan 308

CHAPTER XVIII
Stalking the Great Sheep of Marco Polo 324

INDEX 333
 ILLUSTRATIONS
Note.—The illustrations, with one exception, are from reproductions of
photographs taken by the authors.

FACE PAGE

A Ya-Yieh or Yamen Runner Frontispiece

Cart used in the Osh District 26
Daoud and Sattur 41
Watering Horses in the Tuman Su 56
Kashgar Women and Children 58
Water-Carriers at Kashgar 60
Shoeing in the Kashgar Bazar 62
A Kashgar Grandmother 64
Priest at the Temple of Pan Chao 67
Kashgar City (showing the city wall and Tuman
68
Su)
Women at the Shrine of Hazrat Apak 69
Chinese Soldiers at the Kashgar Yamen 74
Jafar Bai displaying the Visiting Card 77
Study of Kashgar Women 82
Ruins of the Buddhist Tim, Kashgar 85
The Shrine of Bibi Anna 93
Fording the Gez River 109
Kirghiz Women in Gala Dress 118
Loading up the Yaks 124
Bringing in an Ovis Poli (Nadir with rifle) 146
(a) The Game of Baigu—the Mêlée 150
(b) The Game of Baigu—the Pick-up 150
(c) The Game of Baigu—the Victor 150
Nasir Ali Khan, a Muki of Sarikol 156
Sarikoli Dancers 158
Muztagh Ata—The Snout of a Glacier 162
A Kirghiz and his Daughter 164
Kashgar Musicians 170
Our Arabas on the Yarkand Road 176
A Hunting Eagle 182
Ferry on the Yarkand River 192
The Pigeon Shrine 206
Beggars at the Gate 212
A Dulani Shaykh 222
Dulani Musicians 224
A Dulani Woman and her Son 226
The Tian Shan or Celestial Mountains 236
The Tungani Commander of the Troops at
Khotan 242
Tamerlane 268
A Load of Clover from Isa Haji’s Farm 302
The Sons of Isa Haji ploughing 304
A Magician and his Disciple 314
A Kashgar School 316
A Woman throwing Mud to effect a Cure 320
Ovis Poli—the 51-inch head 328
Hunting-Dogs with Kirghiz owner 330

MAPS
Supplementary Sketch Map showing Country to
the East of Route Map 275
Map to illustrate Authors’ Routes (In pocket at end
of volume)

ERRATUM
Page 134, line 22, for “there was no sign of a division” read
“it was broken up into islands.”
PART I
 CHAPTER I
ACROSS THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE IN WAR TIME
The cities are called Taskent[1] and Caskayre,[1] and the people that warre
against Taskent are called Cassaks[1] of the law of Mahomet, and they
which warre with the said countrey of Caskayre are called Kirghiz,
Gentiles and idolaters.—Anthony Jenkinson.

On March 5, 1915, my brother and I started off on our long journey

to Kashgar, the capital of Chinese Turkestan, where he was to act for
Sir George Macartney, the well-known Consul-General, who was
taking leave.
Owing to the War, we were obliged, as the first stage of our journey,
to travel to Petrograd by the circuitous route through Norway,
Sweden and Finland. The small Norwegian steamer, the Iris, in
which we embarked at Newcastle, made its way up the coast of
Scotland to a point opposite Peterhead in order to avoid mines and
submarines, after which it crossed to Bergen. We passed two
choppy nights in stuffy cabins with the portholes tightly screwed up,
and I was too prostrate with sea-sickness to care when the engines
of our steamer stopped dead during the first afternoon. My brother
rushed up on deck to see if we were held up by a German
submarine, which might mean the unpleasant experience of
internment for him, but after a couple of hours we went on again, and
no explanation of the delay was given us.
Some three months later this same vessel was attacked in reality,
two torpedoes being fired at her, and only the zigzag course skilfully
pursued by the captain saved her from destruction. Amundsen, the
discoverer of the South Pole, was on board, and wrote to the papers
describing the incident, and strongly reprobated Germany’s policy
towards neutral shipping, which, he declared, had converted him to
the side of the Allies.
To return to our journey, we finally steamed in safety up a long fiord,
and Bergen stood up picturesquely against its background of snow-
covered hills. We thought that the pleasant-mannered Norwegians
were decidedly Scotch in appearance, and a sturdy youth, quite of
the type of a Highland gillie, soon guided us to the Hospidset Hotel,
which had originally belonged to the Hanseatic League in Bergen. In
old days the apprentices lived in this house, being locked up safely
at night, and though the building has undergone considerable
restoration, it is still a characteristic piece of architecture.
Next morning we tramped round Bergen in our snow-boots, finding
the steep roads very slippery with frozen snow, even the inhabitants
falling headlong now and again. Here and there children were merrily
tobogganing, dashing recklessly across the main street through
which the trams were running, and hurling themselves down steep
inclines on the other side in a way that made me shudder. They were
all sensibly clad in woollen garments, their rosy faces peering out
from fur caps or fur-trimmed hoods, and it did one good to see them.
A graver note was struck as a funeral passed by, with all the
mourners on foot; and the pastor, in a stiff ruff with muslin frills at his
wrists, seemed to have returned from the sixteenth century, and
might have posed for a portrait of Calvin. Sleighs were everywhere,
drawn by sturdy little ponies that raced along at a great pace with
jingling bells and kept their feet wonderfully.
We left by the night train for the twenty-seven hours’ run to
Stockholm, changing at Christiania, and next day were speeding
through a land of snow and pine inhabited by a hardy-looking, fur-
clad race. Fish seemed a staple article of food, and we were offered
salted prawns, herring-salad, raw sardines and anchovies; veal, ham
and tongue, with pickles or cold fried bacon, forming the meat
course. There were no sweets or fruit, but for compensation we had
delicious coffee and cream. In the restaurant car the bread and rolls
were fastened up in grease-proof paper, sugar in tiny packets, and
biscuits in sealed bags, in order to prevent unnecessary handling.
It was night when we steamed into the “Venice of the North,” a city
which must be lovely in the summer, as it rises from its waters; but at
the time of our visit the river was covered with floating blocks of grey
ice, and all the world was skating or ski-ing.
The people were not unfriendly to us, but from more than one source
we learnt that, owing to their hereditary fear of Russia, the Swedes
were generally partisans of Germany, in contradistinction to the
Norwegians, who, as a nation, were warmly in favour of the Allies.
We had a five o’clock dinner (three to five o’clock being the usual
time, reminding one of early Victorian customs), and then settled
ourselves into the comfortable sleeping coupés which we were to
inhabit for two nights as far as Karungi, the direct route across the
Gulf of Bothnia being inadvisable for obvious reasons. There were
four racks for light luggage in each compartment, a convenient
washing apparatus and a table, and we could open our windows,
whereas in Russia we found the windows screwed up until the
spring.
But there was one thing in which the Russian trains, with their three
bells rung for departure, compared favourably with those of
Scandinavia, and that was that the latter gave no real warning when
they were about to start. The engine whistled and moved off
immediately, with the result that I was always nervous about walking
up and down the platform, for the iron steps leading up to the
carriages were so slippery with frozen ice that I feared to risk a fall if
I scaled them in a hurry.
A Russian girl travelling in the carriage next to ours had given her
ticket to the care of a French lady, a complete stranger to her, and,
strolling along the platform with a fur collar round her neck but no fur
coat, was unluckily left behind. The railway officials sent her ticket
back to her and took care of her belongings, and I trust that some
good Samaritan aided her, but she must have had a most
unpleasant experience. I asked a Swede who talked to me why the
trains gave practically no signal when they started, and he said that
there was some reason which he had forgotten.
The country lay deeper in snow the farther north we advanced, and
on either side, as far as eye could reach, the undulating ground was
covered with vast forests of fir and pine. At intervals we passed little
towns and villages, the small wooden houses, painted in many
colours, giving the impression of toy-dwellings. The brightly clad fur-
capped little girls with long fair plaits of hair seemed as if they had
come to life from the fairy books of my childhood, and one could
almost credit the existence of gnomes and trolls in those limitless
uninhabited tracts of pine. Soldiers in blue-grey or navy-blue
uniforms, with white sheepskin caps or picturesque three-cornered
cloth hats, stood about on the platforms up and down which we
tramped in our snow-boots whenever the train halted. As there was
no restaurant car we obtained our meals at the station buffets, halts
of about half an hour being made at 10 a.m., 3 p.m. and 10 p.m. In the
absence of waiters the hungry crowd of passengers helped
themselves, selecting from a tray laid out with different kinds of fish,
cheese, pickles, etc., or piling their plates with hot pork or veal. I
made invariably for the big cauldron of excellent soup with
vegetables, and there was always coffee and milk, bread and cakes
in abundance, and no pushing or hustling on the part of those
travelling.
At last we reached Karungi, the frontier between Sweden and
Russia, and scores of sleighs were in waiting at the station to convey
the passengers the short distance to the Russian Karungi. The fine-
looking Russian Consul, clad in a splendid fur coat and cap to
match, was most obliging, and cheered us greatly with the news—
alas, quite inaccurate, as we found out later—that the Allied fleets
had silenced all the forts in the Dardanelles! My brother went off to
pass our heavy luggage through the Swedish Customs, and I had
some difficulty in collecting our small possessions on to one sleigh,
because half a dozen men and boys, clad in nondescript garments of
fur and leather, hurled themselves upon hold-alls and dressing-cases
and bore them off in all directions, utterly regardless of my
remonstrances. The only thing I could do was to follow the most
responsible-looking of my self-constituted porters, and when he
deposited his burden on a sleigh I induced him to accompany me in
a hunt among the lines of shaggy little ponies, finding the tea-basket
in one place, a hat-box or a bundle of sticks and umbrellas mixed up
with another passenger’s luggage, and so on. The Consul told me to
come and drink coffee in the buffet, exclaiming reassuringly, “You
can leave everything safely, for in this part of the world the people do
not know how to steal.”
At last we drove off in the keen air across a level waste of snow,
traversing a frozen river which forms the actual boundary, and in half
an hour, with many a bump and jolt, we reached a gate through
which, after we had shown our passports, we were admitted into
Finland.
We had now a wait of some six hours, which we spent in walking on
the crisp snow or sitting in the little station buffet, where I observed
that coffee had given way to tea, the Russian national beverage,
drunk in glasses with a slice of lemon and much sugar. From now
onwards the pièce de résistance of our chief meals was sturgeon. I
liked it fairly well when stewed or fried, but it was usually tough when
served cold. Some of these enormous fish are said to weigh two or
three tons.
When the train made a tardy appearance it could not accommodate
all the passengers, and many were perforce left behind to follow the
next day. The first halt was at Tornea, to which point travellers used
to drive until the extension of the line to Karungi after the outbreak of
the War, and, though we were in the Arctic Circle and it was early in
March, the air seemed quite mild as we rushed across Finland, our
wood-fed engine belching forth immense whorls of smoke. At Vyborg
we entered Russia, and at midnight of the second day reached
Petrograd.
In the Astoria Hotel it was remarkable to see every one drinking
kvass, a somewhat mawkish beverage made from bread or from
cranberries, in lieu of wine or spirits. In Finland alcoholic
refreshments were obtainable in the restaurant car, but now we
found ourselves in a country which the will of an autocrat had made
so strictly teetotal that we were unable even to purchase methylated
spirit for our tea-basket!
Some of our Russian acquaintances spoke with enthusiasm of the
beneficial effect of the Tsar’s edict, one competent observer pointing
out that the Russian women were just beginning to take to drink,
which would have meant the ruin of many thousands of homes. On