With amazing alacrity the crew tied us up to the door-post, and prepared
to go into winter quarters.
This did not suit us at all, and
"The harmless storm being ended,"
we ruthlessly broke away from our haven of refuge, and safely arrived at
Alsu.
_Friday, May_ 19.--An ominous stillness and repose at 3 o'clock this
morning sent me forth to see why the windlass was not being manned. A
thing like a big grey bat flapping about, proved, on inspection, to be
that rascal the Lord High Admiral Satarah. He said he could not start, as
the hired coolies from Kunis had been so terrified by the horrors of
yesterday that they had departed in the night, sacrificing their pay
rather than run any more risks with such daredevils as the mem-sahib and
me. This was vexatious and entirely unexpected, as I had never before
known a coolie to bolt before pay-day. Sabz Ali and Satarah were promptly
despatched on a pressgang foray, while I put to sea with the
first-lieutenant to show that I meant business. A crew was found in a
surprisingly short time, and a frenzied dart was made for the mouth of the
Jhelum.
All day we poled round the shore of the lake, over flooded fields where
the mustard had spread its cloth of gold a short week ago, over the very
hedges we had scrambled through when duck-shooting in April, until in the
evening we entered the river just below Sumbal.
The towing-path was almost, in many places quite, under water, and the
whole country looked most forlorn and melancholy as the sun went down--a
pale yellow ball in a pale yellow haze.
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