KASHMIR VALLEYS 121 



by breakfast time, and I made up my mind to risk 

 moving rather than waste another day amid such 

 uninteresting surroundings, and ordered my men to 

 start. This they were most loth to do. The Kashmiris 

 are proverbially the most cowardly watermen in the 

 world, the want of keels to their boats increasing their 

 sense of insecurity in the always uncertain weathers 

 on their lakes. For some time they refused to stir, and 

 it was only my threat of sending a telegram to Srinagar 

 to order another boat to convey me and my belongings 

 that brought them to their senses, and at last, the men 

 having securely fastened all loose gear, tied firmly the 

 chuppars, and taking two extra men on board, we com- 

 menced our slow progress down. The all-enveloping, 

 vapoury mist, as if torn from its parent cloud, left 

 floating overhead by the stern power of the wind, 

 moved on with us, cutting us off from all the world. I 

 could scarcely see the men towing on the bank; I was 

 a pilgrim in the land of shadows, ferried by an invisible 

 Charon ! When we reached the Anchar Lake the 

 weather had improved, the sky was brighter, and the sun 

 was reasserting its sway, dragging up to his court again 

 the mass of cloud that had been an unwilling visitor 

 of our cold climes, and though I knew the men were 

 nervous by the desperately brisk way they threw them- 

 selves on to the paddles, I did not fear any further storm 

 for the time being. However, I was glad of the spur to 

 their energies, and the quick motion was soothing as I lay 

 back noting the countless flowers that ornamented this 

 pretty marshy swamp. White water lilies, like queens at 

 their ease, floated amid their dark foliage, a host of tall 

 forget-me-nots waited, courtier-wise, upon them, while 

 pretty white arrowheads, always a little anxious and 



