An Explorer's Adventures in Tibet Part 16

As I was led nearer I perceived that the front of the tent was wide open. Inside stood a great number of red Lamas, with shaven heads, and long woollen tunics. The soldiers stopped me when I was about twenty yards from the tent. Additional ropes were added to those already cutting into my wrists, elbows, and chest, and the others were made tighter. I perceived Chanden Sing led forward. Instead of taking me before the Lamas, they pushed me to the back of the mud house to prevent my seeing the scene that followed. I heard Chanden Sing being interrogated in a loud, angry tone of voice, and accused of having been my guide. Next I heard wild shouts from the crowd, then a dead silence.

A few instants later I was horrified. I listened--yes, it was the snapping noise of a lash, followed by hoa.r.s.e moans from my poor servant, to whom they were evidently applying it.

I counted the strokes, the sickening noise of which is still well impressed on my memory, as they regularly and steadily fell one after the other, to twenty, to thirty, forty, and fifty. Then there was a pause.

A number of soldiers now came for me. I was first led, then pushed violently before the tribunal.

On a high seat in the centre of the tent sat a man wearing ample trousers of gaudy yellow and a short yellow coat with flowing sleeves.

On his head he had a huge four-pointed hat, gilt all over, and with three great eyes painted on it. He was young-looking. His head was clean shaven, as he was a Lama of the highest order, a Grand Lama and a _Pombo_, or Governor of the province, with powers equivalent to those of a feudal king. On his right stood a stout, powerful red Lama who held a huge double-handed sword. Behind him, and at the sides, were a number of other Lamas, officers and soldiers. As I stood silent, and held my head high before him, two or three Lamas rushed at me and ordered me to kneel. They tried to compel me to do so by forcing me on my knees, but I succeeded in remaining standing.

The Pombo, who was furious at my declining to kneel before him, addressed me in words that sounded violent; but, as he spoke cla.s.sical Tibetan, and I only the colloquial language, I could not understand a word he said. I meekly asked him not to use such fine words, as they were unintelligible to me.

The great man was taken aback at this request. With a frown on his face, he pointed to me to look to my left. The soldiers and Lamas drew aside, and I beheld Chanden Sing lying flat on his face, stripped from the waist down, in front of a row of Lamas and military men. Two powerful Lamas, one on each side of him, began again to chastise him with knotted leather thongs weighted with lead, laying on their strokes with vigorous arms from his waist to his feet. He was bleeding all over. Each time that a lash fell on his wounded skin, so great was my sorrow that it gave me a pain more intense than if a dagger were stuck into my chest, but I never betrayed my feelings. I knew Orientals too well to show any pity for the man, as this would only have involved a more severe punishment for him. So I looked on at his torture as one would upon a thing of every-day occurrence. The Lamas near me shook their fists under my nose, and explained that my turn would come next. I smiled and repeated the usual "_Nikutza, nikutza_" (Very good, very good).

The Pombo and his officers were puzzled. I could see it plainly by their faces.

The Pombo, an effeminate, juvenile, handsome person, almost hysterical in manner, seemed a splendid subject for hypnotic experiments. I had a good reason to think this. As we shall see later, he had already often been under mesmeric influence. He remained with his eyes fixed upon mine, as if in a trance, for certainly over two minutes.

There was a wonderful and sudden change in the man. His voice, arrogant and angry a few moments before, was now soft and apparently kindly. The Lamas around him were evidently concerned at seeing their lord and master transformed from a foaming fury into the quietest of lambs. They seized me and brought me out of his sight to the spot where Chanden Sing was being chastised. Here again I could not be compelled to kneel, so at last I was allowed to squat down before the Pombo's officers.

Two Lamas produced my note-books and maps, and proceeded to question me closely, saying that, if I spoke the truth, I should be spared; otherwise I should be flogged and then beheaded.

I answered that I would speak the truth, whether they punished me or not.

Dressed in a gaudy red silk coat, with gold embroidery at the collar, one of the Lamas, a great big brute who had taken part in the flogging of Chanden Sing, told me I must say "that my servant had shown me the road across Tibet, and that he had drawn the maps and sketches." If I stated this, they were willing to release me and have me conveyed back to the frontier, promising to do me no further harm. They would cut my servant's head off, that was all, but no personal injury would be inflicted on me.

I explained clearly to the Lamas that I alone was responsible for the maps and sketches, and for finding my way so far into the Forbidden Land. I repeated several times, slowly and distinctly, that my servant was innocent, and that therefore there was no reason to punish him. He had only obeyed my orders in following me to Tibet, and I alone, not my two servants, was to be punished if anybody was punishable.

The Lamas were angry at this. One of them struck me violently on the head with the b.u.t.t-end of his riding-crop. I pretended not to notice it, though it made my scalp ache to quite an appreciable extent.

"Then we shall beat you and your man until you say what we want!" the Lama exclaimed, angrily.

"You can beat us if you like," I replied, with a.s.surance, "but if you punish us unjustly it will go against yourselves. You can tear our skin off, you can make us bleed to death, but you cannot make us feel pain."

Ando, the traitor, who spoke Hindustani fluently, acted as interpreter whenever there was a hitch in our conversation. With what I knew of the Tibetan language, and with this man's help, everything was explained as clearly as possible to the Tibetans. Notwithstanding this, they continued to lash mercilessly my poor servant. In his agony he was biting the ground as each blow fell on him tearing away patches of skin and flesh. Chanden Sing behaved heroically. Not a word of complaint nor a prayer for mercy came from his lips. He said that he had spoken the truth, and had nothing more to say. Watched intently by all the Lamas and soldiers, I sat with affected calm before this scene of cruelty, until, angry at my indifference, order was given to the soldiers that I should be dragged away. Again they led me behind the mud house, from where I could distinctly hear the angry cries of the Lamas cross-examining Chanden Sing and those dreadful sounds of the lash still being administered on my poor servant.

It began to rain heavily. This was lucky for us, for in Tibet, as in China, a shower has a great effect upon the people. Even ma.s.sacres have been known to be postponed until the rain stopped.

Such was the case that day. The moment the first drops fell, the soldiers and Lamas rushed here, there, and everywhere inside the tents.

I was hastily dragged to the most distant tent of the settlement, which became packed with the soldiers in whose charge I had been given.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHANDEN SING BEING FLOGGED]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: The Lamas stated afterward that this was the number.]

[Footnote 11: Counting Lamas, villagers, and soldiers.]

CHAPTER XIX

THREATS OF DEATH

An officer of high rank was sitting cross-legged at the farther end of the tent. He wore a handsome dark-red tunic trimmed with gold and leopard skin, and was shod in tall black-and-red leather boots of Chinese shape. A beautiful sword with a solid silver sheath inlaid with large pieces of coral and malachite was pa.s.sed through his belt.

This man, apparently between fifty and sixty years of age, had an intelligent, refined, honest, good-natured face. I felt that he would be a friend. Indeed, whereas the soldiers and Lamas treated me with brutality and were indescribably mean, this officer alone showed some civility to me. He made room by his side, and asked me to sit there.

"I am a soldier," said he, in a dignified tone, "not a Lama. I have come from Lha.s.sa with my men to arrest you. You are now our prisoner. You have shown no fear, and I respect you."

So saying, he inclined his head and laid his forehead touching mine, and put out his tongue. Then he made a gesture which meant that, though he wished to say more, he could not, owing to the presence of the soldiers.

Later on we entered into a friendly conversation, in the course of which he said he was a Rupun (a rank below a general). I tried to explain to him all about English soldiers and weapons. He displayed the keenest interest in all I told him. In return he gave me interesting information about the soldiers of Tibet. Every man in Tibet is considered a soldier in time of war or when required to do duty. For the regular army all lads strong and healthy can enlist from the age of seventeen. Good horsemanship is one of the qualities most appreciated in the Tibetan soldier, and, after that, unbounded obedience. The Rupun swore by Tibetan matchlocks, which he believed to be the most serviceable weapons on earth. According to him, as long as you had powder enough, you could use anything as a projectile. Pebbles, earth, or nails did as good work as any lead bullet.

He told me that large quant.i.ties of these weapons were manufactured at Lha.s.sa and Sigatz (_Shigatze_). The majority of Tibetan men outside the towns possessed matchlocks. Gunpowder was made in the country with saltpetre and sulphur.

The Rupun, seeing how quick I was at picking up Tibetan words, took a special delight in teaching me, as one would a child, the names of the several grades in the Tibetan army. The _Tchu-pun_ was the lowest grade, and only had ten men under him; then came the _Kiatsamba-pun_ or _Kia-pun_, or officer in command of one hundred soldiers; and the _Tung-pun_, or head of one thousand. These officers, however, were seldom allowed the full number of soldiers. Often the "commander of one thousand" had only under him three or four hundred men at the most.

Above the _Tung-pun_ came the _Rupun_, a kind of adjutant-general; then the _Dah-pun_, or great officer; and highest of all, the _Mag-pun_ (or _Magbun_, as it is usually p.r.o.nounced), the general-in-chief.

The acquaintance of one of these generals I had already made at Gyanema.

Though my informant said that officers were elected for their bravery in war and for their strength and apt.i.tude in the saddle and with their weapons, I knew well enough that such was not the case. The posts were mainly given to whoever could afford to pay for them, among men of families under special protection of the Lamas. In many cases they were actually sold by auction.

The Rupun had a keen sense of humor. I told him how fast the Tibetan soldiers had run away on previous occasions when I had met them and had my rifle with me. He was quite equal to the situation, and exclaimed: "Yes, I know that they ran, but it was not through fear. It was because they did not wish to hurt you." Upon which I answered that, if that were the case, they need not have run so fast.

The Rupun was amused, and laughed at my sarcasm. He patted me on the back, and said I was right. He professed to be grieved to see me tied up. He had received strict orders not to give me food or unloose my bonds.

The soldiers, who had been harsh and rough, listened open-mouthed to the friendly talk between the Rupun and myself, a practice not common in Tibet between captor and prisoner. Following their chief's example they, too, became quite kind and respectful. They placed a cushion under me and tried to make me a little more comfortable.

Toward the evening the Rupun was summoned before the Pombo. The guard was relieved by a fresh lot of men. This was a change for the worse. The new-comers were extremely rough. They dragged me away from the dignified seat I had occupied in the place of honor in the tent, and knocked me violently down on a heap of dung which was there to be used as fuel.

"That is the place for _Plenkis!_" shouted one of the men, "not in the best part of the tent."

They pounced upon me, and though I made no resistance whatever, they again tied my feet together. An additional rope was fastened round my knees. The ends of these ropes were left long, and each was given in charge of a soldier.

No part of a Tibetan tent was ever clean. The spot where I was to rest for the night was the dirtiest. Bound so tightly that the ropes cut grooves in my flesh, it was out of the question to sleep. Worse than this was the disgusting fact that I soon got covered with vermin, which swarmed in the tent. From this time till the end of my captivity, or twenty-five days later, I suffered unspeakable tortures from this pest.

The soldiers, with their swords drawn, were all round me inside the tent. More soldiers were posted outside.

The night was full of strange events. Shouts could be heard at intervals from a distance outside, and were answered by some one of the guard inside the tent. They were to keep the men awake and make sure that I was still there.

In the middle of the night the Rupun returned. I noticed that he seemed much upset. He sat by my side. By the light of the flickering fire and a wick burning in a bra.s.s bowl filled with b.u.t.ter, I could see on his face an expression of great anxiety. I felt, by the kind way in which he looked at me, that he had grave news to give me. I was not mistaken. He moved me from the dirty place where I had been thrown down helpless by the soldiers, and laid me in a more comfortable and cleaner part of the tent. Then he ordered a soldier to bring me a blanket. Next, to my astonishment, he became very severe, and said he must examine my bonds.

He turned quite angry, scolding the soldiers for leaving me so insecurely tied, and proceeded to make the knots firmer, a thing which I felt was impossible. Though he pretended to use all his strength in doing this, I found, much to my amazement, that my bonds were really becoming loosened. He then quickly covered me up with the heavy blanket.

The soldiers were at the other end of the large tent arguing loudly over some paltry matter. The Rupun, stooping low, and making pretence to tuck in the blanket, whispered:

"Your head is to be cut off to-morrow. Escape to-night. There are no soldiers outside."