On the 19th of June we started very early, as the tremendous Oonnye
pass rising to the height of 11,400 feet lay before us, and we had a
full ten miles march ere we could reach our proposed halting place at
the village of Uart. We soon entered the mouth of the pass, which was
girt on either side by magnificent precipices; the road was narrow and
slippery--of course without even an apology for a parapet--running
along a natural ledge on the verge of a perpendicular cliff, and so
_sheer_ was the side, that from a horse's back you might
sometimes have dropped a stone into the apparently bottomless
ravine--bottomless, for the rays of a noon-day sun have never broken
the eternal darkness of the awful chasm beneath. Had horse, camel,
or man missed their footing whilst scrambling up the steep and stony
pathway, nothing could have saved them from being dashed to pieces.
Frequently, when rounding some projecting crag, the small treasure-box
fastened on the camel literally overhung the abyss, and I held my
breath and the pulsations of my heart increased as I watched horse
after horse and camel after camel weather the critical point.
Before we reached Uart a poor woman of the Huzareh tribe (the most
persecuted and enslaved throughout these regions) came and complained
to us that her child had been seized by a band of plunderers, as she
supposed, to be sold into slavery. Sturt immediately despatched a
couple of the guard to recover her child if possible, and the poor
woman went off with the two soldiers in the full confidence that her
escort would be successful. I own that I myself was not so sanguine,
but I had yet to learn how much even in these wild mountains the
British name was respected. The mother's hopes were realized, and in
the course of the day the child was recovered, having been instantly
surrendered on the requisition being made; but I was surprised to see
instead of a helpless child a fine handsome well-knit young man. The
gratitude of the poor woman was sincere; she had nothing, she said, to
offer in return, but prayed that every blessing might descend upon us
and our most distant relations; that we might all become great kings;
and that finally we might be successful in conquering the country we
were proceeding to invade: vain were our endeavours to set before her
in their true light the object of our expedition.
We arrived rather late at Uart after a hard day's work, and were not
much gratified by the aspect of our camp, which was disagreeable, from
its great elevation and its situation on a bleak table-land, thinly
covered with a short grass, with the strong winds of the Hindoo Khoosh
sweeping across it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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