Some Heroes of Travel, or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise

A day or two later, Mr. Atkinson had an adventure with boars. Leaving four men to guard the camp, he had ridden out, with five followers, in search of sport. Plunging into a thick copse of long grass and low bushes, they started more than one boar from his lair, and tracing them by their motion in the herbage, galloped in hot pursuit. As they emerged into the open, they could see two large dark grizzly boars about a couple of hundred yards ahead, and spurred after them with might and main. Rapidly they gained upon the panting brutes, and when within about fifty yards, Mr. Atkinson and a Cossack sprang from their horses, fired, and wounded one of the boars. While they reloaded, the rest of the party galloped on, and presently other shots wore fired. The boars had separated: one, dashing across the valley, was followed up by two of the men; the other was pursued by Mr. Atkinson and his Cossack. After a splendid chase, they drew near enough to see the foam on his mouth, and his large tusks gnashing with rage. The Cossack fired; the ball hit him, but did not check his wild, impetuous course. Swiftly Mr. Atkinson urged on his horse, got abreast of the animal at about twenty paces distant, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. This stopped him, but it took two more shots to kill him. He proved to be a noble fellow, weighing nine poods, or about 324 lbs., with long, sharp tusks, which would have been formidable weapons in a close encounter.

Leaving the Cossack and a Kalmuck to dress the prize and convey it to the camp, Mr. Atkinson, after reloading his arms, hastened to join the rest of his party, who were in full chase on the other side of the river, at a distance of about three versts. He rode briskly forward, but the hunt was at an end before he reached the river. His followers, on joining him, announced that they had killed a large boar, though not the one first started. He had escaped, and while they were searching for his trail amid some reeds and bushes, a large boar sprang in among them, and charged at a Cossack’s horse. When within three or four paces of his intended victim he was stopped by a bullet from Tchuck-a-bir’s rifle; but he got away before a second shot could be fired, and an animated chase began. He received several balls, but they seemed to have no effect on his impenetrable hide. Rushing into the river, he swam across, at a point where it expanded into a deep broad pool; the men followed him, and a ball from one of the Kalmucks inflicted a severe wound. Furious with rage and pain, he dashed full at the man who had wounded him; the Kalmuck dexterously wheeled his horse aside, and a ball from Tchuck-a-bir laid the monster dead. With two large boars as the spoils of their prowess, Mr. Atkinson and his “merry men” returned to camp triumphant.

Mr. Atkinson next travelled in a southerly direction for two days; after which he turned to the west, and struck upon the river Ouremjour; his object being to enter the Gobi to the north of the great chain of the Thian-Chan, or, as he calls them, Syan-Shan Mountains. These are the highest in Central Asia, and amongst them rises that stupendous mass, Bogda Oöla, with the volcanoes Pe-shan and Hothaou, to see which was his leading purpose and aim. He gives an animated description of his approach to the Syan-Shan. A bright sun was rising behind the wayfarer, but its rays had not yet gilded the snowy peaks in his front. As he rode onward he watched for the first bright gleam that lighted up the ice and snow on Bogda Oöla; presently the great crest reddened with a magical glow, which gradually spread over the rugged sides, and as it descended, changed into yellow and then into silvery white. For many minutes Bogda Oöla was bathed in sunshine before the rays touched any of the lower peaks. But in due time summit after summit shot rapidly into the brave red light, and at last the whole chain shone in huge waves of molten silver, though a hazy gloom still clothed the inferior ranges. In these atmospheric effects we cannot but recognize a marvellous grandeur and impressiveness; there is something sublimely weird in the sudden changes they work among the stupendous mountain masses. Onward fared the traveller, obtaining a still finer view of Bogda Oöla, and of some of the other peaks to the west; but, as the day advanced, the clouds began to fold around its head, and the huge peak was soon clothed with thick surging wreaths of vapour. The lower range of the Syan-Shan is picturesque in the extreme; jagged peaks stand out in bold relief against the snow-shrouded masses, which tower up some eight to ten thousand feet above them, while the latter are clothed with a luminous purple mist that seems not to belong to this world. Mr. Atkinson continued his route in a north-westerly direction, towards one of the lower chains which run nearly parallel with the Syan-Shan. Thence he could see the Bogda Oöla in all its grand sublimity, and the volcanic peak Pe-shan, with black crags outlined against the snow, still further to the west; while beyond these a long line of snow-capped summits melted into the vaporous distance.

In the course of his wanderings in Chinese Tartary, our traveller saw much of the Kirghiz chiefs, the Sultans of the steppes. On one occasion, while riding in the sterile desert, he fell in with the aul of Sultan Ishonac Khan – a stoutly built man, with strong-marked Kalmuck features, who, in right of his descent from the famous Genghiz Khan, wore an owl’s feather suspended from the top of his cap. His costume was gallant and gay; Chinese silk, richly embroidered.

About fifty versts to the south of Sultan Ishonac’s aul, lie the Barluck Mountains, situated between the Tarbagatai and the Alatou Mountains, and eastward of the small rocky chain of the Ala-Kool, which extends some sixty versts from east to west, and measures about twenty-five in breadth. The highest summit is not more than three thousand feet above the plain. Vegetation thrives on the lower slopes, but the upper parts are gloomily bare. From Sultan Ishonac Khan Mr. Atkinson obtained a loan of fresh horses, and of eight of his Kirghiz to escort him to the Tarbagatai. A dreary ride it was, – over sandy hills, through sandy valleys, where not even a blade of grass was green. In many places the ground was thickly covered with a saline incrustation, which the horses’ feet churned up into a pungent dust, that filled every mouth and caused intolerable thirst. Welcome was the glimmer of a lake that relieved by its sparkle the dulness of the landscape; but when horse and man rushed forward to drink of its waters, to their intense disappointment they found them bitter as those of Marah. Not till the evening of the fifth day, when they reached the river Eremil, did they enjoy the luxury of fresh water.

Next day they reached the Tarbagatai, in the neighbourhood of the Chinese town of Tchoubuchack, and encamped for the night at the foot of a great tumulus or barrow, about one hundred and fifty feet high, which is surrounded by many smaller barrows. They are the last resting-places of a Kirghiz chief and his people, who belonged to a remote generation, and to a race of which these tumuli are the only memorials. Another day’s ride, and they arrived at the aul of Sultan Iamantuck, of whom and his family Mr. Atkinson speaks as by far the most intelligent people he met with in this part of Asia. The aul was pitched among high conical tombs of sun-burnt bricks, the cemetery of the Sultan’s ancestors; and it appears that once a year it was regularly visited by their pious descendant and representative. With another relay of horses and a fresh Kirghiz escort, Mr. Atkinson dashed onward, undeterred by the dreariness of the sandy level, where neither water nor grass was to be found, and the only living things were tarantulas and scorpions. His course lay direct for the Alatou (“Variegated Mountains”), and he could see the shining peaks of the Actou (“White Mountain”), which forms its highest crest, and raises its summits fourteen to fifteen thousand feet above the sea. After fording the broad deep stream of the Yeljen-sa-gash, he arrived on the shore of Lake Ala-kool, measuring about sixty-five versts in length by twenty in width, with a rocky island near the north shore, erroneously described by Humboldt as the site of a volcano. It has no outlet, yet it receives the tribute of eight rivers; the water is carried off by evaporation.

Here Mr. Atkinson struck westward to find the aul of Sultan Bak, the Rothschild of the steppes; a man who owns ten thousand horses, and a proportionate number of camels, sheep, and oxen. Wealthy men are not always well disposed towards stranger guests, and Sultan Bak evinced his dislike of intrusion by sending Mr. Atkinson a diseased sheep! This was immediately returned, with an intimation that Mr. Atkinson wanted neither his company nor his gifts; he was the first Sultan who had shown himself so discourteous, and though he had a large body, it was clear his heart was that of a mouse. It is not surprising that a message of this kind provoked him to wrath. He ordered the intruders to quit his aul; if they did not, his men should drive them into the lake. But when he found that they were well armed, that discretion which is the better part of valour enabled him to subdue his temper; he sent one of his finest sheep as a peace-offering, with an assurance that they might stay as long as they liked, and should have men and horses when they left. Evidently the Kirghiz patriarch knew how to make the best of a bad situation.

Accompanied by his poet, he paid a visit to Mr. Atkinson’s camp, supped heartily off his own mutton, and exchanged the warmest professions of friendship. The minstrel, at his master’s bidding, sang wild songs to wilder tunes in glorification of the prowess and freebooting expeditions of the Sultan and his ancestors, to the great edification of the listening Kirghiz. So the evening passed peacefully, and the Sultan and the white man parted on cordial terms. Next day, Mr. Atkinson was riding towards the Karatou, a mountainous chain of dark purple slate; and six days later he visited Sultan Boubania, on the river Lepson. In the neighbourhood were many large tumuli, the largest being the most ancient. One of these was built up of stone, and formed a circle of 364 feet in diameter, with a dome-like mound thirty-three feet in height. Tradition has not preserved the name of the dead honoured with so extraordinary a memorial; the Kirghiz attribute it to demons working under the direction of Shaitan. Another kind of tumulus, of more recent construction, was circular in plan, but carried up to the height of fifty-four feet, in the shape of “a blast furnace,” with an aperture at the top, and lateral opening two feet square and four feet from the ground. In the interior were two graves covered with large blocks of stone. According to the Kirghiz, these tombs were built by the people who inhabited the country before the Kalmucks. A third kind, of sunburnt bricks, and Mohammedan in design, are ascribed to Timour Khan and his race.

Through the rocky gorge of the Balïïtz, Mr. Atkinson commenced his ascent of the Alatou. His eye rested with pleasure on the richly coloured rocks that composed the cliffs on either side – deep red porphyry, flecked with veins of white; slate, jasper, and basalt. He explored several of the valleys that break up the lower mass of the mountain chain, and rode along many of its elevated ridges. Sometimes the roar of torrents filled his ears; sometimes bright streams and sources sparkled in the sunshine; sometimes he saw before him a fair mosaic of wild flowers; sometimes the landscape was ennobled by the conspicuous figures of white mountain peaks, relieved by a background of deep blue sky; sometimes the distant vapours hovered wraith-like above the calm surface of Lake Tengiz. From a plateau not far beneath the line of perpetual snow he obtained a noble view of the Actou, and, to the south, of the lofty and picturesque peaks of the Alatou; while, nearer at hand, the river Ara poured its thunderous waters into a gorge some thousand feet in depth. The plateau was covered with tumuli; one of which, measuring two hundred feet in diameter and forty feet in height, was enclosed within a trench, twelve feet wide and six feet deep. On the west side stood four masses of large stones in circles; the altars, perhaps, on which, long ago, victims were sacrificed to appease some sanguinary deity. It is a tradition of the Kirghiz that these antiquities belonged to a native who, for some unknown cause, determined on a great act of murder and self-destruction, and that they were constructed before the terrible work was begun. They say that the father killed his wife and all his children, excepting the eldest son, on whom devolved the duty of killing, first his father, and then himself.

Mr. Atkinson visited, near the river Kopal, the Arasan, or warm spring, which wells up in the centre Of a ravine formed of yellow and purple marbles. Its temperature, all round the year, is 29′ R. or 97° F. Here, in a remote past, the Kalmucks built a bath, which is still frequented by Tartars, Kirghiz, and Chinese. The waters, it is said, are wonderfully beneficial for scurvy and other cutaneous disorders.

Another route carried him to the Tamchi-Boulac, or “Dropping Spring,” at the foot of the Alatou. The water oozes out of columnar cliffs in myriads of tiny streams that glitter like showers of diamonds; while in some parts they seem changed to drops of liquid fire by the reflected colouring of the rocks, which vary in colour from a bright yellow to a deep red.

For one hundred and three days Mr. Atkinson wandered among the Alatou Mountains, exploring peak, precipice, valley, and ravine; surveying torrent and river and waterfall; now ascending far above the line of perpetual snow, now descending into warm and sheltered woods, where the greensward was enamelled with blossoms. From the eastern end of the Alatou, a seventeen days’ ride over hill and steppe brought him to the Russian frontier and the comforts of civilization at Semipalatinsk. But, almost as strongly possessed with the spirit of continuous motion as the Wandering Jew in the grim old legend, he next set forth on a journey across Siberia, from its western boundary on the Irtisch, to its Oriental capital, Irkutsk. In the course of his long journey he visited the Saian Mountains; ascended the valley of the Oka; explored a bed of lava and a volcanic crater in the valley of the Ojem-a-louk; rode across the rugged shoulder of Nouk-a-Daban; and descended the little river Koultouk to Lake Baikal, or, as the natives call it, the Holy Sea. Hiring a small boat, with a crew of seven men, he crossed the lake to the mouth of the river Angara. Baikal is the third largest lake in Asia – about four hundred miles in length, and varying in breadth from nineteen miles to seventy. Though fed by numerous streams, it has only one outlet, the Angara, a tributary of the Yenisei. Lying deep among the Baikal Mountains, an off-shoot of the Altai, it presents some vividly coloured and striking scenery. Its fisheries are valuable. In the great chain of communication between Russia and China it holds an important place, and of late years its navigation has been conducted by steamboats. The native peoples inhabiting its borders are the Buriats and Tungusians.

Mr. Atkinson spent eight and twenty days in exploring this Alpine sea, and afterwards proceeded to Irkutsk. 13

ALEXINA TINNÉ AND HER WANDERINGS IN THE SOUDAN

About 1862, letters from Khartûm, the capital of Nubia, stimulated the curiosity of European geographers by announcing that three courageous ladies had undertaken a journey into Central Africa, with the view of reaching those mysterious Sources of the Nile which, for generations, had been the object of Western research. At first the news was received with suspicion; many persons did not hesitate to speak of it as a hoax; but incredulity vanished as the information grew more copious and more precise, and it became known that the guiding spirit of the adventure was a certain Miss Alexandrina or Alexina Tinné, a lady of great personal charms and very wealthy. It was then unanimously agreed that she was one of those brave daughters of England who, in the Continental belief, will go anywhere and do anything that is hazardous or eccentric. And though of Dutch extraction she really did owe something to English influences. Her father was a Dutch merchant who, after acquiring an ample fortune in Demerara, was naturalised in England, and finally settled at Liverpool. He died while Alexina (born in October, 1835) was still a child, but the wealthy heiress was brought up by her mother as befitted her social position. What impelled her, in her young maidenhood, to plunge into the dangers of African exploration – whether her action was due to a love of adventure, a thirst after knowledge, a spirit rebelling against the conventionalisms of society, or to baffled hope and slighted affection – does not seem to be known. But it is certain that about 1859 she set out from the Hague, accompanied by her mother and aunt, and visited various parts of Egypt and Syria. For some months she resided at Beirut and Tripoli; next she repaired to Damascus; afterwards, to the ruins of Palmyra, haunted by the memory of Zenobia; and, finally, she dreamed of imitating the romantic career of Lady Hester Stanhope, and installing herself as Queen of the Lebanon. Her mood, however, changed suddenly; she returned to Europe, not to resume the monotonous habits of social life, but to make preparations for an expedition in search of the Sources of the Nile.

In this daring project she appears to have been encouraged partly by her own fearlessness of nature; partly by the example of Mrs. Petherick, wife of the English consul at Khartûm, whose fame had spread far and wide; and partly by the flattering thought that it might be reserved for her, a woman, to succeed where so many brave men had failed, and to be the first to solve the great enigma of the Nilotic sphynx. What immortality would be hers if she triumphed over every danger and difficulty, and stood, where no European as yet had stood, on the margin of the remote well-head, the long secret spring, whence issued the waters of Egypt’s historic river! It must be owned that in this ambitious hope there was nothing mean or unworthy, and that it could have been possible only to a high and courageous nature.

She set out in the month of July, 1861, still accompanied by her mother and her aunt, two ladies of mediocre character, who readily yielded to the influence of a stronger mind. A part of the winter was spent in a pleasant country house in one of the suburbs of Cairo – a kind of palace of white marble, situated in the midst of odorous gardens, and looking out upon the ample Nile and the giant forms of the Pyramids. There they made extensive preparations for the contemplated journey; while Alexina spent many thoughtful hours in studying the map of Africa, in tracing the sinuosities of the White Nile above its point of junction with the Blue, in laying down the route which should carry her and her companions into the regions of the great lakes.

It was on the 9th of January, 1862, that she and her companions directed their course towards Upper Egypt, voyaging in three boats, attended by a numerous train of guides, guards, and servants. In the largest and most commodious “dahabeeyah” were installed the three ladies, with four European servants and a Syrian cook. Alexina’s journal, it is said, preserves many curious details in unconscious illustration of the mixed character of the expedition, which might almost have been that of a new Cleopatra going to meet a new Mark Antony; we see the Beauty there as well as the Heroine – the handsome woman who is mindful of her toilette appliances, as well as the courageous explorer, who does not forget her rifle and cartridges.

Passing in safety the first cataract, Miss Tinné’s expedition duly arrived at Kousko; where she and her companions took a temporary leave of the Nile, tourists, and civilization, and struck across the sandy desert of Kousko to Abu-Hammed, in order to avoid the wide curve which the river there makes to the westward. The caravan, besides Miss Tinné’s domestics, included six guides and twenty-five armed men. Of camels loaded with baggage and provisions, and dromedaries which carried the members of her suite, there were a hundred and ten. The desert did not prove so dreary as it had been painted; sand and rock were often relieved by patches of blooming vegetation; the monotony of the plains was often broken by ridges of swelling hills. The camels every evening browsed contentedly on the herbage, and quenched their thirst in the basins of water that sparkled in the rocky hollows.

The time usually required for crossing the desert is eight to nine days; but as Alexina advanced very leisurely, by daily stages not exceeding seven or eight hours, she occupied nearly three weeks. In spite of this easy mode of travelling, her mother was so fatigued that, on arriving at Abu-Hammed, on the banks of the Nile, she insisted they should again take to the river. A dahabeeyah was accordingly hired, along with six stalwart boatmen, who swore on the Koran to keep pace with the swiftest dromedaries. So while the caravan tramped onwards through the burning, shifting sand, Alexina and her companions voyaged up the Nile; but the rowers soon proved false to their promises, slackened their oars, and allowed the caravan to outstrip them. When reproached with their lethargy, they excused themselves on the score of the arduousness of their work and the great heat of the sun.

Meanwhile, the caravan had made considerable progress, and at nightfall tents were pitched and fires lighted. As no dahabeeyah could be seen, men were sent in search of it; but in vain. No news of it was obtained until the following day, when it was ascertained that the Egyptian boatmen had at last laid down their oars in sullen indolence, and that Miss Tinné and her companions had been compelled to spend the night in a Nubian village. The misadventure taught them the lesson that in Eastern countries it is generally wiser to trust to brutes than to men; the boatmen were dismissed, and the travellers once more joined the caravan.

But the heat proved insupportable, driving them to make a second experiment of the river traject. A boat was again hired; again they embarked on the glittering Nile; and again an evil fortune attended them. Instead of reaching Berber, as they should have done, in four days, the voyage was extended to over a week; but it was some compensation for their fatigue when, at two hours’ march from the city, they were received by some thirty chiefs, mounted upon camels, and attended by janizaries in splendid attire, who, with much pomp and circumstance, escorted them to the gates of Berber. There they were received by the governor with every detail of Oriental etiquette, installed in pavilions in his gardens, and waited upon in a spirit of the most courteous hospitality. No longer in need of a complete caravan, Miss Tinné dismissed her camel-drivers; but, desirous of leaving upon their minds an enduring impression, she rewarded them with almost prodigal liberality. Her gold coins were so lavishly distributed, that the Arabs, in surprise and delight, broke out into unaccustomed salutations; and to this very day, remembering her largesses, they sing of her glory, as if she had revived the splendour of Palmyra.

There was a policy in this apparently thoughtless profusion. As a natural result, her reputation everywhere preceded her; hospitality was pressed upon her with an eagerness which may have been dictated by selfish motives, but was not the less acceptable to her and her companions. Women, gathering round her, prostrated themselves at her feet. The young girls danced merrily at her approach; they took her for a princess, or, at least, they saluted her as such.

After a residence of some weeks at Berber, the adventurous ladies hired three boats, and ascended the Nile to Khartûm, the capital of the Egyptian Soudan. Situated at the confluence of the White and Blue Nile, it is the centre of an important commerce, and the rendezvous of almost all the caravans of Nubia and the Upper Nile. Unfortunately, it is one of the world’s cloacinæ, a kind of moral cesspool, into which the filth and uncleanness of many nations pours – Italians, Germans, Frenchmen, Englishmen, whom their own countries have repudiated; political gamblers, who have played their best card and failed; fraudulent bankrupts, unscrupulous speculators, men who have nothing to hope, nothing to lose, and are too callous to fear. The great scourge of the place, down to a very recent date, was the cruel slave-traffic, at that time carried on with the connivance of the Egyptian Government. Recently the energetic measures of Colonel Gordon have done much towards the extirpation of this cancerous growth, and even the moral atmosphere of the town has been greatly purified. To Alexina Tinné the place was sufficiently loathsome; but a residence of some weeks’ duration, while preparations were made for the advance into Central Africa, was imperative. She did what she could to avoid coming into contact with the “society” of Khartûm, and exerted all her energies to stimulate the labours of her subordinates, so that she might depart at the earliest possible moment. At length, provisions were collected, and a supply of trinkets to be used as gifts or in barter; an escort of thirty-eight men, including ten soldiers fully armed, and all bearing a good character for trustworthiness, was engaged; and, finally, she hired for the heavy sum of ten thousand francs, a small steamboat, belonging to Prince Halim. With a glad heart she quitted Khartûm, and resumed the ascent of the White Nile, passing through a succession of landscapes fair and fertile. As for the river, its quiet beauty charmed her; and she compared it to Virginia Lake, the pretty basin of water that sparkles in the leafy shades of Windsor Forest. Its banks are richly clothed with trees, chiefly gumtrees, which frequently attain the dimensions of the oak. But the graceful tamarisk is also abundant, and myriads of shrubs furnish the blue ape with a refuge and a home. The air glitters with the many-coloured wings of swarms of birds. On the bright surface of the stream spread the broad leaves and white petals of colossal lilies, among which the hippopotamus and the crocodile pursue their unwieldy gambols.