Patrick O’Brian 3-Book Adventure Collection: The Road to Samarcand, The Golden Ocean, The Unknown Shore. Patrick O’Brian

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СКАЧАТЬ throughout the night, although they were so tired that they could hardly stand: but in spite of all their care, on the third day they saw dust on the horizon behind them, and by noon through the binoculars they could see that below the dust rode a troop of Kazaks. It was that same evening that on the southern sky there appeared a long, low cloud that never moved. It was the Kunlun mountains, and as the sun set they could see the snow of the distant peaks glow red.

      Day after day they travelled swiftly to the south, keeping to the edge of the desert for the rare wells and the grass for their horses; and day after day the Kazaks followed them. It was hard on the men, but it was harder on the horses: they carried very little corn, and the grass the horses could find was not enough to keep even those hardy beasts going at that killing pace. The mares that they brought with them for their milk dried up, and then one horse after another dropped behind. Fortunately they had many spare horses, in the Tartar fashion, and they hoped that under the mountains they would find better pasture.

      When they first appeared, the Kazaks were more numerous than the flying expedition, but Hulagu had hopes of reducing their numbers: not only had they fewer spare horses, being so far from home, but they did not know the springs so well, and every night, once it was certain that they were discovered, the Kokonor men fired the grass so that there would be none for the pursuers, for during the first ten days of their flight the wind was in their faces, and the fire, when it spread, ran back towards the Kazaks.

      Hulagu was right. In time the Kazaks dwindled in number to such a degree that the expedition was no longer hopelessly outnumbered, and after they had made sure of that by repeated counts, they slowed their pace to a speed that would not kill their horses – a speed that they could keep up for a month on end. The Kazaks did the same: by pressing hard they could now have caught up with the expedition, but they hung back, waiting like wolves for some disaster, some well that would fail, or for some one of the hundred mischances that could befall to happen and deliver their prey to them unarmed.

      The column no longer rode in a compact line: there were the baggage horses in the centre, with the poorest riders; then a rear-guard of the Kokonor Mongols, with either Ross or Sullivan; and far in front three or four of the best horses. Chingiz and Derrick were usually sent out in front, being the lightest of the party, and the least likely to tire their horses; and all day as they rode they scanned the horizon to the north and west.

      Every day as they rode south the Kunlun range rose higher in the sky, a vast series of mountains like a wall, rising abruptly from the plain: from less than half-way up they were covered with snow, and innumerable higher, more snowy peaks showed behind them. Behind that monstrous wall was Tibet, but it seemed impossible that any man should get up there, or live if he ever succeeded in his climb.

      At last they began to turn right-handed to the west. The sun set in their eyes now, and now they were in the more fertile tract of country that led between the desert and the great rampart of mountains that floated above the clouds on their left, a long, thin stretch of country that would lead them to safety in the Kirghiz land.

      They were in the foothills now, high, rolling, down-like slopes with grass that gave their horses heart and strength, and they were so near the mountains that they filled half the sky, towering up and up so that they had to lean back to see the tops. The days went by, so many of them that Derrick lost count of the days of the week, and they came at last to the place called Tchirek Chagu. Several of the Mongols had been here, for it was a meeting-place for those who had come down through the desert to the southern trail, and here sometimes in the earlier part of the year a few Tibetans would come down and trade. They rode with redoubled caution here, looking out far ahead; but when it was passed even Ross, who was the most cautious in saying hopeful words, said that he thought there was no longer any danger from the north. Several times they thought of turning to deal with the danger from the east, but whenever they stopped, the Kazaks stopped too. It would need several days to bring them to action, so the expedition went on, more slowly now, and almost at their ease.

      They were riding along the most spectacular part of the southern trail, with the edge of the Takla Makan in sight on their right, and on their left the mountain wall rising sheer and black in the noblest precipice in the world, when one of the Mongols who had been there before pointed out the Gingbadze pass and the lamasery.

      It seemed impossible that the small downward nick in the towering heights should be a pass, but as Derrick followed the pointing finger he could make out a minute square object just under it.

      ‘That,’ said the Mongol, ‘is the lamasery of Gingbadze, and the lamas who lived there made those steps that lead up to the pass.’ Derrick looked harder still, and he made out a thin line running up the precipice, a continuous line of steps cut out of the living rock.

      ‘So that is Gingbadze,’ said the Professor. ‘I have often heard of it, but I never expected to see it.’

      ‘Why did they cut the steps, sir?’ asked Derrick.

      ‘For the pilgrims,’ replied the Professor. ‘They used to go up there in great numbers to the shrine of Sidhartha’s tooth in the days before the Red-Hats ruined the monastery.’

      ‘Red-Hats, sir?’

      ‘Another sort of lama – Tibetan monks, you know. A vicious, war-like set of men, from all I hear, whatever their theories may be. I should very much like to go up there. Sullivan, do you think we could go up to Gingbadze? The Kazaks were not seen today, I believe – and even if they are still behind us, they do not seem inclined to molest us any more.’

      ‘No, they do seem to be falling back now: but consider, Professor, we should have to leave the horses at the foot of the pass, and if the Kazaks were to come up, where should we be then?’

      ‘You are quite right, of course. How foolish of me. Still, on a happier occasion, it would be very agreeable to go up.’

      They rode on, and that evening they camped in long grass, the most comfortable beds they had had for weeks: the grass was already in seed, and the horses ate themselves fat. In the morning they rode out at their leisure. There was still no sign of the Kazaks behind, but wishing to see farther back Derrick and Chingiz went up a knoll that gave them a clear view for a full day’s march and more behind them. The morning air was clear and sharp, but for a long while they saw nothing on their trail.

      ‘There they are,’ cried Chingiz, suddenly. He pointed, and Derrick saw a movement in the distance, far away, but still much nearer than he had been looking.

      ‘Yes, they are still there,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. He was just about to go down again when the cry of a bird along the mountain-side made him look round. He could not see the bird, but as he searched for it his eye caught a gleam from far away, something that sent back the rays of the rising sun. The gleam winked, twinkled, and was gone: yet he thought he could make out something moving far down there, between the desert and the hill. He called Chingiz, and they stared together. ‘It may be a mirage,’ said Derrick – they had seen plenty, in the Gobi and in the Takla Makan – but Chingiz shook his head. ‘We cannot risk its being a mirage,’ he said, and they hurried back to Sullivan. Sullivan looked doubtful. ‘It hardly can be anything,’ he said, ‘but you had better take the glasses and look again. Keep well out of sight.’

      They rode quickly to the knoll again, and raising only their heads above the skyline they searched the country with the glasses. Derrick caught the gleam again, a little line of flashes, and focused the glasses nearer. For a moment he could not make it out: the reflection seemed to be attached to nothing. Then the distant horseman topped the rise, and Derrick understood. All he had seen before was the row of lance-heads winking in the sun: the Kazaks had been hidden by the rising ground. The first came over the brow and into full view, then the second, then the third. He counted СКАЧАТЬ