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.

Sunday, May 21.—­All yesterday we towed up the river against a current which ran swift and strong.

The passage of the bridge at Surahal gave us some trouble, as the flooded river brought our upper works within a narrow distance of the highest point of the span, but we finally scraped through with the loss of a portion of the railing which decorated our upper deck.

The strain of towing was severe, so, when a brisk squall and threatening thunder-shower overtook us at the mouth of the Sind River, we decided to tie up there for the night.

This morning we started at four o’clock, but only reached our berth at Srinagar at two, having spent no less than six hours in forcing the boats by pole and rope for the last three miles through the town!  An incredible amount of panting, pushing, yelling, and hauling, with frantic invocations to “Jampaws” and other saints, was required to enable us to crawl inch by inch against the racing water which met us in the narrow canal below the Palace.

All’s well that ends well, and here we are once more in Srinagar, after a trip which has been really delightful, albeit the weather latterly has not been by any means all that could have been desired, and we have slain no bears![2]

[1] Commonly called the “Jungly-sahib.”

[2] Can it be that Bernier was right?  “Il ne s’y trouve ni serpens, ni
    tigres, ni ours, ni lions, si ce n’est tres rarement.”—­Voyage de
    Kachemire.