We decided to see for ourselves, so set forth about
eleven, and soon came to the first bridge, the Amira Kadal, which carries
the main tonga road into Srinagar, tying up just above it, amid the
clamour and jabber of an idle crowd.
The Admiral solemnly measured the clear space between the top of the arch
and the water with a long pole, consulted noisily with the crowd, yelled
his ideas to the crew, and decided to attempt the passage.
Hen-coops, chairs, half-a-dozen flower-pots containing sickly specimens of
plants, and all other movables being cleared from the upper deck, we set
sail, and shot the bridge very neatly, only having a few inches of
daylight between the upper deck and the wooden beams upon which the
roadway rests.
_Ce nest que, le premier "pont" que coute_.
The other bridges were all easier than the first, and we shot them gaily,
spending the rest of the day in floating quietly down the river, and
finally anchoring--or rather mooring, for anchors are, like boat-hooks,
masts, sails, rudders, and rigging, alike unknown to the "jollye mariners"
of the Jhelum--some two or three miles above the entrance to the dreaded
Wular Lake.
This awful stretch of water, so feared by the Kashmiri that his eyes
goggle when he even thinks of it, is an innocent enough looking lake,
generally occupied in reflectively reproducing its surroundings upside
down, but occasionally its calm surface is ruffled by a little breeze, and
it is reported that wild and horrible squalls sweep down the nullahs of
Haramok at times, and destroy the unwary.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124