On the 21st of May we set sail from Bukkur, having exchanged our boats for another description of vessel, called “zohruk,” not in use in Lower Sinde. They are of an oblong square shape, rounded fore and aft, and built of the talee tree, clamped with pieces of iron instead of nails, an operation which is performed with great neatness. Some of the vessels exceed eighty feet in length, and twenty in breadth. They are flat-bottomed, and pass quicker through the water than the doondee, though they have but one mast. By the description of boats in which Alexander transported his cavalry, I understand the “zohruk,” which is well suited for the transport of troops. Arrian describes it “as of a round form,” and says that they received no injury on leaving the Hydaspes, when the long vessels were wrecked. Their peculiar build has doubtless arisen from the occurrence of such rapids as the Macedonians experienced at the junction of the Acesines and Hydaspes.

The curiosity of the people on the banks of the Indus was intense. One man in the crowd demanded that we should stop and show ourselves, since there had never been a white-face in this country before, and we were bound to exhibit, from the welcome which we had received: he had seen Shah Shooja, he said (the ex-king of Cabool), but never an Englishman. Need I say we gratified him and the crowd, of which he was the spokesman? “Bismilla,” “in the name of God,” was their usual exclamation when we appeared, and we daily heard ourselves styled kings and princes. The ladies were more curious than their husbands. They wear ear-rings of large dimensions, with turquoises suspended or fixed to them; for these stones are of little value in the vicinity of Khorasan. Among the women, I should note the Syudanees, or Bebees, the female descendants of Mahommed: they go about veiled, or rather with a long white robe thrown over their entire body, having netted orifices before the eyes and mouth. They are all beggars, and very vociferous in their demands for alms: one set of them, (for they go about in troops,) when they found I did not readily meet their demands, produced a written paper from the shrine of Lal Shah Baz, at Sehwun, to hasten my charity! Father Manrique, in his journey by the Indus some centuries ago, complains “of the frail fair ones” who molested him by the way. In the present age, the dress of the courtezans, who are to be met in every place of size in the country, would give a favourable idea of the wealth of Sinde; and it is one of the few, if not the only, amusements of the inhabitants to listen to the lascivious songs of these people. They are a remarkably handsome race, and carry along with them a spirit of enthusiasm in their performance unknown to the ladies of Hindoostan.

Three days after quitting Bukkur, we came in sight of the mountains of Cutch Gundava, distant about a hundred miles from the right bank of the Indus; the most remarkable peak was named Gendaree. We here entered a country inhabited by various Beloochee tribes, long addicted to piracy and plunder; but their spirit has been destroyed by the growing power of the Khyrpoor chiefs. They offered no opposition or insult; and many came to pay us a friendly visit. Their manner of saluting each other, which indeed prevails among all the Beloochees, is somewhat peculiar. On approaching, they seize the stranger’s hand, and touch the right breast with the right shoulder, and the left with the left, and follow up the words “welcome” with half a dozen such sentences as, “Are you happy? Is every thing right? Are all well, great and small, children and horses? You are welcome.”

A very few days brought us beyond the reach of these Beloochees, and the dominions of Sinde; for we anchored thirty miles north of Subzulcote, the frontier town, on the evening of the 26th, on the line of boundary between the Khan of the Daoodpootras and the Ameers of Sinde. Our progress had been exceedingly rapid; for we had a favourable breeze, and often followed the lesser branches of the Indus to escape the violence of the stream. The boats sailed with celerity; for we came one hundred and twenty miles by the course of the river in six days against the stream. We here had a farewell feast from the Khyrpoor Ameer and Meer Nusseer Khan, the son of the principal Ameer, who had shown us marked civility throughout the journey. After the people had fared sumptuously, our boats were crowded like sheepfolds. I addressed valedictory letters to both the Ameers and their chief ministers, besides several replies to other persons; for the “cacoethes scribendi” seemed to have beset the nobles of the land; and I had received, in one day, no less than six letters. These productions were full of metaphor and over-strained expressions of anxiety for our health and safety, with trite sayings about the advantages of friendship, and a letter being half an interview. There is no difference between the manners of Europe and Asia so striking as in correspondence. The natives of the East commit the writing and diction of their compositions to a native secretary, simply telling him to write a letter of friendship, congratulation, or whatever may be the subject, to which he affixes his seal, sometimes without a perusal. If the signet is not legible, one may often try in vain to find out his correspondent; for he never names himself in his letter. In my epistles, I told the Khyrpoor chief that his friendship and kindness had brought us without an accident, and with unprecedented speed, against the mighty stream of the Indus; and I thought it as well, for the edification of the Hydrabad Ameer, to add, that the Indus was a navigable river from the ocean, and had abundance of water every where! I did not quit Sinde favourably impressed, either with his character or policy; but we should not try such a man by an European standard, and he doubtless opposed our choice of the route by the Indus on sufficiently good grounds. I parted from our Khyrpoor friends really with reluctance; for their hospitality and kindness had been great, and it was with difficulty that I was permitted to reward the boatmen. The Mihmandar said that he had been ordered to prohibit it; and his master only desired to please the British Government. This person was very inferior to our former companion the Syud; but, if less learned and intelligent, he had the more sterling qualities of sincerity and honesty: his name was Inayut Khan Ghoree.

We here dismissed, and with regret, our Sindian escort, which had followed us from the mouths of the Indus. They seemed to have become attached to us, and followed us in our walks and rides with unusual alacrity; as we were leaving, they accompanied us to the water’s edge, with loud cries of thanks for our kindness and prayers for our welfare. They consisted of twenty-four men; twelve of whom were Beloochees and the rest Jokeeas, a tribe of mountaineers near Curachee. We had not, I am sure, done much to deserve such gratitude; for they had only received an additional month’s pay (eight rupees each) to take them back to their country, a distance of three hundred and fifty miles. Some of them begged to accompany us to Lahore; but, on the same principle that they had been hired in Sinde, it would be proper to enlist natives of the new country we were entering, and I civilly declined their request. These men used to kill game for us; and were ever ready to anticipate our wishes. Their honesty we found unimpeachable; and we never lost any thing in our progress through a strange country, protected by strangers on whom we had no tie, and who had been brought from the fields to enter our service.

The natives of the neighbouring countries, and the higher class of people in Sinde, have a singular notion regarding the fish diet of the inhabitants. They believe it prostrates the understanding; and, in palliation of ignorance in any one, often plead that “he is but a fish-eater.” The lower order of the Sindians live entirely on fish and rice; and the prevailing belief must be of an old date, as they tell an anecdote of one of the Emperors of Delhi who addressed a stranger in his court with the question from whence he came; he replied, from Tatta, and the king turned away his head. The stranger, recollecting the prejudice against his country, immediately rejoined, that he was not a “fish-eater.” I am not prepared to state how far a fish diet may affect the intellect of the Sindian, but I certainly remarked the prolific nature of the food in the number of children on the banks of the Indus. Manners, &c. Costume. The greatest fault which an European would find with the people of Sinde is their filthy habits. They always wear dark-coloured garments from religious motives; but the ablutions of the Prophet are little attended to. People must be in easy circumstances, I believe, or cease to feel want before they adopt habits of cleanliness. The change of costume in the people, announced already a change of country. Since leaving Bukkur, we had met many Afghans and natives of the kingdom of Cabool. The boots of some of these strangers, made of variegated leather, ribbed, in some instances, not unlike the skin of the tiger, formed an extraordinary dress for a long-bearded old man.

In the evening of the 27th we quitted Sinde, and ascended the river for a few miles, where we were met by Gholam Kadir Khan, a Nuwab and person of high rank, who had been sent to welcome us by Bhawul Khan, the chief of the Daoodpootras, in whose country we had now arrived. He was a little, pot-bellied old man, with a happy expression of countenance; and he said that he was sent to communicate the delight with which his master hailed our approach. He brought a most kind message—that a fleet of fifteen boats had been collected, and was now in readiness to convey us through the Daoodpootra country, while the Khan had fitted up a boat expressly for our accommodation. He brought likewise a purse of a hundred rupees, which he said he had been desired to send me daily: this I declined, saying, that money was useless where every necessary and luxury of life was furnished by his master’s hospitality. We soon got on easy terms with our new hosts, and weighed anchor next evening for the frontier village, where we halted. Many Daoodpootras came to see us; they differ in appearance from the Sindians, and wear turbans formed of tight and round folds of cloths.

On the 30th of May our fleet, now swelled to eighteen boats, quitted the Indus at Mittuncote, where it receives the united waters of the Punjab rivers; and, as if to remind us of its magnitude, the stream was here wider than in any other part of its course, and exceeded 2000 yards. We took a last farewell of its waters, and entered the Chenab or Acesines of the Greeks. Alexander sailed down this river to the Indus; but no tradition of that event is preserved on its banks. The Sindians point to Cabool as the theatre of his exploits, where Sikunder the Persian achieved many memorable deeds. In the East, as in the West, there have not been wanting ages of darkness to draw a mist over truth, and substitute, in poetical language, the fables of an Eastern country for one of the most authentic facts in ancient history—the voyage of Alexander on the Indus. Mittun is a small town, about a mile distant from the Indus, and occupies, I imagine, the site of one of the Grecian cities, since the advantage of its position for commerce attracted the attention of Alexander.

In Lower Sinde the pastoral tribes live in reed houses, and rove from one place to another. In these parts of the Indus they dwell in habitations elevated eight or ten feet from the ground, to avoid the damp and the insects occasioned by it. These are also built of reeds, and entered by a ladder. They are small neat cottages, and occupied by wandering tribes, who frequent the banks of the river till the season of inundation. Herodotus mentions that the Egyptians slept in turrets during the rise of the Nile. Effects of the Indus on the climate. The inhabitants have strange notions regarding the influence of the Indus on the climate. They believe that it gives out a perpetual breeze; and they, therefore, seek a habitation near it, for the heat of Sinde is most oppressive. The father of history expressed his belief that such also was the case with the Nile; and it is curious that a similar opinion should be entertained by the people of Sinde. I can readily understand that a vast volume of running water would cool the banks of a river: the heat is said to increase on receding from the Indus.

We reached Ooch, where the joint streams of the Sutlege and Beas, here called the Garra, fall into the Chenab. The name of Punjnud, or Five Rivers, is unknown to the natives; and we now navigated the Chenab or Acesines of the Greeks, the name of the five rivers being lost in that of the greater stream. It is curious to observe that this fact is expressly mentioned by Arrian:—“The Acesines retains its name till it falls at last into the Indus, after it has received three other rivers.” The Sutlege, or Hesudrus, is not mentioned by Alexander’s historians. These united rivers form a noble stream; and the banks of the Chenab are free from the thick tamarisk jungles of the Indus. They were studded with innumerable hamlets, particularly towards the Indus; for the rich pasture attracts the shepherd.

Our arrival at Ooch had been so much earlier than was anticipated as to give rise to an incident which might have proved serious. The troops of Bhawul Khan were encamped on the banks of the river, and in a dusky day our numerous fleet was mistaken for the Seik army, which had been threatening to invade his territories. A discharge of a cannon and some musquetry arrested the progress of our advanced boat. The mistake was readily discovered, and the chagrin and vexation that followed afforded us some amusement. I thought that apologies and regrets would never have ceased.

The town of Ooch stands on a fertile plain at a distance of four miles from the Acesines, beautifully shaded by trees. It is formed of three distinct towns, a few hundred yards apart from each other, and each has been encompassed by a wall of brick, now in ruins. The population amounts to 20,000. The streets are narrow, and covered with mats as a protection from the sun; but it is a mean place. We were accommodated in a garden well stocked with fruit trees and flowers, which was an agreeable change from our confined boats. Arrival of Bhawul Khan. When preparing for a journey to visit the Khan,—who was absent at Dirawul, in the desert,—we were surprised by the arrival of a messenger, with the information that he had reached Ooch from a distance of sixty miles, that he might save us the trouble of coming to him, and evince his respect for the British Government. The messenger brought us a deer, which the Khan had shot, and of which he begged our acceptance, with forty vessels of sherbet, and as many of sweetmeats and preserves; also a bag containing 200 rupees, which he requested I would distribute in charity, to mark the joyful event of our arrival.

On the morning of the 3d of June we visited Bhawul Khan, who had alighted at a large house outside the town, a mile distant: he sent an escort of his regular troops, with horses, palankeens, and various other conveyances,—one of which deserves description. It was a sort of chair, covered with a red canopy of cloth, supported by two horses, one in front and the other behind, and the most awkward vehicle that can be imagined; for it could be turned with difficulty, and the horses did not incline to such a burden. We passed a line of soldiers, about 600 in number, dressed in uniforms of red, blue, white, and yellow; and then entered the court yard, under a salute of eighty guns. The passages were lined with officers and chiefs; and we found the Khan seated in an area spread with carpets, attended only by about ten persons: he rose and embraced us. He made particular enquiries regarding Mr. Elphinstone, who, he said, had been the means of raising up a sincere and lasting friendship between his family and the British Government.

Bhawul Khan is a handsome man, about thirty years of age, somewhat grave in his demeanour, though most affable and gentlemanlike; during the interview he held a rosary in his hand, but the telling of the beads did not interrupt his conversation. He dilated at length on the honour which Runjeet Sing had had conferred upon him in receiving presents from the King of Great Britain; nor did he, in any way, betray his feelings towards the Lahore chief, though they are far from friendly. The Khan, unlike most natives, seemed to avoid all political subjects. He produced his matchlock, and explained to us his manner of hunting deer, his favourite sport; and expressed a strong wish that we should accompany him to his residence in the desert. We left him quite charmed with his kindness, and the sincere manner in which he had shown it. In the evening the Khan sent for our perusal the testimonials that had been given to his grandfather by Mr. Elphinstone, which are preserved with great pride and care in the archives of his government. For my own part, I felt equal satisfaction to find the English character stand so high in this remote corner of India, and the just appreciation of the high-minded individual who had been the means of fixing it.

During our stay at Ooch, we were visited by some of the principal merchants of Bhawulpoor, who had followed the Khan. The intelligence of these people, and extent of their travels, surprised me. Most of them had traversed the kingdom of Cabool, and visited Balkh and Bokhara: some had been as far as Astracan; and they used the names of these towns with a familiarity as if they had been in India. They had met Russian merchants at Bokhara, but assured me that they never came to the eastward of that city. The intervening countries they represented as perfectly safe, and bestowed the highest commendations on Dost Mahommed, of Cabool, and the Uzbeks, who encouraged commercial communication. These merchants are chiefly Hindoos, whose disposition peculiarly adapts them for the patient and painstaking vocation of a foreign merchant. Some of them are Jews, who retain the marks of their nation in all countries and places.[10]

We continued at Ooch for a week. The place is ancient, and highly celebrated in the surrounding countries from the tombs of two saints of Bokhara and Bagdad. The Ghorian emperors expelled the Hindoo Rajas of Ooch, and consigned the surrounding lands to pious Mahommedans. The tombs of the two worthies I have named are handsome, and held in much reverence by the people; they are about five hundred years old, and tradition is silent regarding the history of the place beyond that period. The posterity of these saints enjoy both spiritual and temporal power to the present day; but, instead of ministering to the wants of the inhabitants, who are needy and poor, they waste their fortunes in the chase, and retain hounds and horses for their amusement. An inundation of the Acesines, some years back, swept away one half of the principal tomb, with a part of the town; and, though the return of the river to its original bed is attributed to the miraculous interference of the deceased saint, the people have, as yet, failed to testify their gratitude by repairing his tomb. The town of Ooch stands on a mound of earth or clay, like the city of Tatta, which I judge to have been formed by the ruins of houses. The Chenab has swept away a portion of the mound; and the section of it which has been thus exposed seems to support the conjecture which I have stated.

On the 5th of June we had a visit from Bhawul Khan. He insisted on coming in person to see us; and sent a large tent to be pitched by our garden, in which we received him. He sat for about an hour; and put numerous questions regarding the manufactures of Europe. The chief is of a mechanical turn of mind; he produced a detonating gun, which had been made under his directions from an European pattern, and certainly did credit to the artificer; he had also manufactured the necessary caps and fulminating powder. He expressed, at this interview, much satisfaction with the presents which we had sent him; they consisted of a brace of pistols, a watch, and some other articles. The Khan came in an open sort of chair, to which we conducted him on his departure. He was attended by about a thousand persons; and I observed that he distributed money as he passed along. After the visit, our Mihmandar brought us presents from the Khan; they consisted of two horses richly caparisoned with silver and enamel trappings, a hawk, with shawls and trays of the fabrics made at Bhawulpoor, some of which were very rich; to these were added a purse of 2000 rupees, and a sum of 200 for the servants; and, last of all, a beautiful matchlock, which had its value doubled by the manner in which it was presented. “The Khan,” said the messenger, “has killed many a deer with this gun; and he begs you will accept it from him, and, when you use it, remember that Bhawul Khan is your friend.”

In the evening we had a parting interview with Bhawul Khan. I gave him a handsome percussion gun; and assured him, what I felt most sincerely, that we should long remember his kindness and hospitality. He embraced us on our leaving him; and intreated us to write to him and command his services. The courtiers and people were as polite as their chief.

We left Ooch on the following morning, and pitched our camp at the junction of the Chenab with the Garra, or united streams of the Beas and Sutlege.

The country about Ooch is flat and exceedingly rich; there are many signs of inundation between the town and the river. The dust was most intolerable; but it always cleared up towards evening, and we saw the sun set in splendour behind the mountains of Sooliman across the Indus, eighty miles distant. They did not appear high, and were not distinguished by any remarkable peaks. It is a little below the latitude of Ooch that they assume a direction parallel to the Indus, which they afterwards preserve. We lost sight of the range on our voyage to Mooltan the day after leaving Ooch.

On the morning of the 7th we passed the mouth of the Sutlege, and continued our voyage on the Chenab to the frontiers of Bhawul Khan, which we reached on the evening of the 8th. The Chenab receives the Sutlege without turmoil, and appears quite as large above as below the conflux. The waters of either river are to be distinguished some miles below the junction by their colour: that of the Chenab is reddish; and, when joined by the Sutlege, the waters of which are pale, the contrast is remarkable. For some distance the one river keeps the right, and the other the left, bank; the line of demarcation between the two being most decided. The nature of the soil through which the Chenab flows, no doubt, tinges its waters. This peculiarity is well known to the natives, who speak of the “red water,” but none of the ancient authors allude to the circumstance. The nature of the country between Ooch and the Indus has been mistaken, as it is never flooded. Several decayed canals, if cleared, would yet lead the water of the Chenab to the Indus, and may account for Major Rennell’s conducting that river into the great stream, so many miles above the true point of union, until the geographical error was rectified by the mission to Cabool.

We parted with our Mihmandar, Gholam Cadir Khan, before passing into the Seik territory. We had seen a great deal of him, and found him well informed on all such subjects as he could be supposed to know. He carried four or five historical works with him, among which was the Chuchnamu, or History of Sinde, to which I have alluded, one or two books on medicine, and some volumes of poetry: yet he made a most particular request, at our last interview, that I would tell him the secret of magic, which he was certain we possessed. I assured him of the error under which he laboured: “But,” said he, “how is it that you have had a favourable wind ever since I met you, and performed a twenty days’ voyage in five, when a breath of air does not sometimes stir in this country for months?” I told him that such was the good fortune of the English. When the Nawaub found me wanting in the black art, he whispered that he himself was a dealer in spells and magic; but very sensibly added, that he had no faith in his own incantations, high as they stood in the opinion of others; though it was not his part to say so. He begged I would give him some medicine to prevent him growing fatter; but neither regular exercise, nor vinegar, which I prescribed, seemed to suit his taste. What a whimsical creature man is. In Sinde, every person of rank seeks for rotundity to support his dignity; and but a few miles from that country, the “martyr to obesity” is considered unfortunate.

There is little cordiality subsisting between the Seiks and Bhawul Khan; and it was with the utmost difficulty that I prevailed on the Nawaub to let us proceed to the Seik camp, a distance of six miles, in the boats belonging to his master. “The Seiks,” he said, “are my master’s enemies, and no boat of ours shall cross their frontier.” He at last assented, on my becoming answerable for the return of the vessels.

A few hours’ sail brought us to the place of rendezvous late at night, and the fires of the soldiers blazing in the darkness only increased our anxiety to meet our new friends. It was the camp of the party which had been sent from Lahore to await our arrival, and had long expected us. Immediately on landing, we were received by Sirdar Lenu Sing, who came with considerable state on an elephant, and was attended by a large retinue. The Sirdar was richly dressed, and had a necklace of emeralds, and armlets studded with diamonds. In one hand he held a bow, and in the other two Persian letters in silken bags. He congratulated us, in the name of Maharajah Runjeet Sing, on our arrival, and had been desired by his Highness to communicate that he was deeply sensible of the honour conferred upon him by the King of England, and that his army had been for some time in readiness on the frontier, to chastise the barbarians of Sinde, who had so long arrested our progress. He then delivered to me the letters which appointed himself as our Mihmandar, in conjunction with two other persons; presenting at the same time a bow, according to the custom of the Seiks. On the ceremony being terminated, the Sirdar and several others placed bags of money at my feet, amounting to about 1400 rupees, and then withdrew.

The first intercourse with a new people can never be destitute of interest, and the present was far from being so.

These Seiks are tall and bony men, with a very martial carriage: the most peculiar part of their dress is a small flat turban, which becomes them well; they wear long hair, and from the knee downwards do not cover the leg. When the deputation had withdrawn, an escort of regular troops attended to receive orders, and sentries were planted round our camp. It was novel to hear the words of command given in the French language.

No sooner had the day broke, than the Maharajah’s people evinced much anxiety to view the dray horses, and we had them landed for exhibition. Their surprize was extreme; for they were little elephants, said they, and not horses. Their manes and tails seemed to please, from their resemblance to the hair of the cow of Thibet; and their colour, a dappled grey, was considered a great beauty. It was not without difficulty that I replied to the numerous questions regarding them; for they believed that the presents of the King of England must be extraordinary in every way; and for the first time, a dray horse was expected to gallop, canter, and perform all the evolutions of the most agile animal. Their astonishment reached its height when the feet of the horses were examined; and a particular request was made of me to permit the despatch of one of the shoes to Lahore, as it was found to weigh 100 rupees, or as much as the four shoes of a horse in this country. The curiosity was forthwith despatched by express, and accompanied by the most minute measurement of each of the animals, for Runjeet Sing’s special information. The manner in which this rarity was prized, will be afterwards seen, when it is gravely recorded, that the new moon turned pale with envy on seeing it!

Our own comforts were not forgotten among their wonder and admiration, for the attentions of the people were of the most marked description. Our Mihmandar said that he had the strictest injunctions regarding our reception; and he rigidly acted up to the spirit of the following document, which will best show the distinguished and kind manner we were treated in the territories of Maharajah Runjeet Sing.

Copy of the Maharajah’s “Purwanu,” or Command to his Officers.

There is at all times much display and hyperbole in affairs of this description throughout the East; but in the present instance it will be observed, that the Maharajah not only evinced his liberality in other matters, but in throwing open to our inspection the strong holds of his country, which can be duly appreciated by those only who have experienced the extreme jealousy of most Indian governments. The Seik Sirdars in attendance on us were likewise most communicative; and this is the more remarkable, as it could not have escaped the Maharajah, that in taking the unfrequented tract we had followed on the Indus we were seeking for new information, after the spirit of our country.