An Explorer's Adventures in Tibet Part 21

The next day, amid repeated good-byes and professions of friendship on the part of our hosts and jailers, we departed toward Mansarowar. Late in the afternoon we reached Tucker Village and Gomba, where we put up at the same _serai_ in which we had slept on our way out. All our bonds were here removed, and we enjoyed comparative freedom, though four men walked by my side wherever I went, and an equal number looked after Chanden Sing and Mansing. Naturally we were not allowed to go far from the _serai_, but we could stroll about in the village. I took this opportunity to have a swim in the Mansarowar Lake. Chanden Sing and Mansing again paid fresh salaams to the G.o.ds, and also plunged into the sacred waters.

The local Lamas, who had been friendly during my former visit, were now extremely sulky and rude. Having witnessed our arrival, they withdrew into the monastery, slamming the gate after them. All the villagers, too, hastily retired to their respective houses. The place looked deserted with the exception of the soldiers round us.

Poor Mansing, who, worn out and in great pain, was sitting close by me, looking vaguely at the lake, had an extraordinary vision, the result, probably, of fever or exhaustion.

"Oh, sir," said he, as if in a dream, though he was quite awake, "look, look! Look at the crowd of people walking on the water! There must be more than a thousand men! Oh, how big they are getting!... And there is G.o.d!... No; they are Tibetans; they are coming to kill us; they are Lamas! Oh, come, sahib, they are near!... Oh, they are flying!..."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"They have all disappeared!" he exclaimed, as I placed my hand on his forehead and he woke from his trance.

I could see that the poor fellow was under an hallucination. His forehead was burning, and he had a high fever.

He seemed quite stupefied for a few moments. On my inquiring of him later whether he had seen the phantom crowd again, he could not remember ever having seen it at all.

The natives came to visit us in the _serai_ during the evening. We had great fun with them. The Tibetans were full of humor and had comical ways. Now that we were only two marches from Taklakot, it was but natural that our spirits were high. Only two more days of captivity, and then a prospect of freedom!

It was still dark when we were roused and ordered to start. The soldiers dragged us out of the _serai_. We entreated them to let us have another plunge in the sacred Mansarowar, and the three of us were eventually allowed to do so. The water was bitterly cold, and we had nothing to dry ourselves with.

It was about an hour before sunrise when we were placed on our yaks and, surrounded by some thirty soldiers, rode off.

When we had been marching for several hours our guard halted to have their tea. A trader named Suna, and his brother and son, whom I had met in Garbyang, halted near us. From them I heard that news had arrived in India that my two men and I had been beheaded, and that thereupon Doctor Wilson and the British Political Officer, Karak Sing, had crossed over the frontier to ascertain the facts, and to attempt to recover my baggage, etc. My joy was intense when I heard that they were still at Taklakot. I persuaded Suna to return as fast as he could to inform Wilson that I was a prisoner, and to tell him my whereabouts. I had barely given Suna this message when our guard seized the man and his brother and roughly dismissed them, preventing them from having any further communication with us.

As soon as we were on the march again, a horseman rode up to us with strict orders from the Jong Pen of Taklakot not to let us proceed any farther toward the frontier by the Lippu Pa.s.s, which we could now have reached in two days, but to take us instead by the distant Lumpiya Pa.s.s.

At that time of the year the Lumpiya would be impa.s.sable. We should have to make a further journey of at least fifteen or sixteen days, most of it over snow and ice, during which we, in our starved and weakened state, would inevitably die. We asked to be taken into Taklakot, but our guard refused. The Jong Pen of Taklakot had sent other messengers and soldiers to insure the fulfilment of his orders, and to prevent our further progress.

Our guard, now strengthened by the Taklakot men, compelled us to leave the Taklakot track, and we began our journey toward the cold Lumpiya.

This was murder. The Tibetans, well knowing it, calculated on telling the British authorities that we had died of a natural death on the snows.

We were informed that we should be left at the point where the perpetual snows began, that the Tibetans would give us no food, no clothes and no blankets, and that we should be abandoned to cross over the frontier as best we could. This, needless to say, meant sure death.

After travelling some two and a half miles westward of the Taklakot track we declined to proceed any farther in that direction. We said that, if they attempted to compel us, we were prepared to fight our guard. Whether we died by their swords and matchlocks, or froze to death on the Lumpiya, was quite immaterial to us.

The guard, perplexed, decided to let us halt there for the night, so as to have time to send a messenger to Taklakot to inform the Jong Pen, and ask for further instructions.

During the night the order came that we must proceed, so the next morning our guard prepared to start us again toward the Lumpiya. It was at that moment that we three semi-corpses collected what little strength remained in us, and suddenly, with what stones we could pick up, made an attack on the soldiers. Incredible as it may seem, our cowardly guard bolted! We went on in the direction of Taklakot, followed at a distance by these ruffians, who were entreating us to make no further resistance and to go with them where they wanted us to go. If we did not, they said, they would all have their heads cut off. We refused to listen, and kept them away by throwing stones at them.

We had gone but a few miles when we met with a large force of soldiers and Lamas, dispatched by the Jong Pen to prepare for our death. Unarmed, wounded, starved, and exhausted as we were, it was useless attempting to fight against such odds. As it was, when they saw we had regained our freedom, they made ready to fire on us.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WE ATTACKED OUR GUARD WITH STONES]

The Jong Pen's chief minister, a man called Lapsang, and the Jong Pen's private secretary, were at the head of this party. I went to shake hands with them. A long and stormy palaver followed, but they kept firm and insisted on our turning away from the frontier, now that we were within a short distance of it. We must perforce proceed by the high Lumpiya Pa.s.s. Those were the Jong Pen's orders, and they, as well as I, must obey them. They would not give us or sell us either animals or clothes, which even the small sum of money I had on me would have been sufficient to buy. They would not provide us with an ounce of food. We emphatically protested, and said we preferred to die where we were. We asked them to kill us there and then, for we would not budge an inch westward.

Lapsang and the Jong Pen's private secretary now cunningly suggested that I should give them in writing the names of the Shokas who had accompanied me to Tibet, probably with the object of confiscating the land and goods of these former followers of mine. As I said I could not write Tibetan or Hindustani, they requested me to do it in English. This I did, but subst.i.tuting for the names of my men and my signature sarcastic words, which must have caused the Tibetans surprise when they had the doc.u.ment translated.

The Tibetans refused to kill us there and then. Lapsang showed us great politeness, and asked us as a personal favor to him to go by the Lumpiya Pa.s.s. As I had no alternative I reluctantly decided to accept their terms rather than waste any more time talking.

Escorted by the large force of soldiers, we had nearly reached Kardam when a horseman came up at a full gallop and hailed our party. We stopped. The messenger overtook us and handed Lapsang a letter. It contained an order to bring us immediately into Taklakot.

We retraced our steps along the undulating plateau above the Gakkon River. Late at night we reached the village of Dogmar, a peculiar settlement in a valley between two high cliffs of clay. The natives lived in holes and chambers hollowed in the cliff.

Lapsang, the Jong Pen's private secretary, and the greater portion of the soldiers, having changed their ponies, went on to Taklakot. We were made to halt. Another letter came from the Jong Pen saying he had changed his mind, and we must, after all, go by the Lumpiya Pa.s.s!

CHAPTER XXIV

WITH FRIENDS AT LAST

In the night a large number of hors.e.m.e.n arrived. There was a great commotion in the place, the people running about shouting.

Tibet is farmed out to officials who have practically become small feudal kings, and who are constantly quarrelling with one another.

To royal jealousy, and to disputes over the rights of the road, was due the appearance of the new army. There were altogether some hundred and fifty men armed with matchlocks and swords. The chieftain of this band came to me with eight or ten other officers. He spoke so excitedly that I feared there was trouble in store for us. There was indeed. These new arrivals were officers and soldiers from the districts of Gyanema, Kardam, and Barca. They had come with strict orders from the Barca Tarjum that we were on no account to traverse his province or to cross into India by the Lumpiya Pa.s.s. This was both amusing and tantalizing, for we had now no way across the frontier open to us. Our guard and some of the Jong Pen's men who had remained behind, finding they were in the minority, thought it prudent to disappear. Anxious as I naturally was to get out of the country as quickly as possible, I approved of all the Gyanema men said, and urged them to fight in case the Jong Pen insisted on my going through the Tarjum's province. All ways out of the country were now barred to us, and unless we resorted to force, I felt we would never escape at all.

The Gyanema men asked me whether I would lead them in case of a fight with the Jong Pen's soldiers. Though not overconfident in their courage, I accepted the post of general-in-chief _pro tem._, Chanden Sing and Mansing being elected there and then as my aides-de-camp. We spent the greater part of the night in arranging our plan of attack on the Jong Pen's troops. When all was properly settled, the Tibetans, to show their grat.i.tude, brought me a leg of mutton, some _tsamba_, and two bricks of tea.

Morning came. I was given a beautiful pony to ride. Chanden Sing and Mansing were mounted on equally handsome animals. Then followed my Tibetan troops--a grand cavalcade. We started gayly toward Taklakot. We had been informed that the Jong Pen was concentrating his men at a certain point on the road, where he intended to bar our way. It was this point that we must force. My Tibetans said that they hated the Jong Pen's men, and swore they would slaughter them all if they dared to stand before us and prevent our pa.s.sage.

"But they are such cowards," declared one of the Tibetan officers, "they will run away."

All this talk suddenly stopped when we heard the distant tinkling of our enemies' horse-bells. I encouraged my men as best I could, but a panic began to spread among them. The Jong Pen's men came in sight. I witnessed the strange spectacle of two armies face to face, each in mortal terror of the other.

Notwithstanding my remonstrances, matchlocks and swords were deposited on the ground with anxious eagerness by both parties, in order to show that only peaceful intentions prevailed. Then a conference was held, in which everybody seemed ready to oblige everybody else except me.

While this was still proceeding, a horseman arrived with a message from the Jong Pen, and at last, to everybody's satisfaction, permission was granted for us to proceed into Taklakot.

My army retraced its steps toward the north-west. Deposed from the high military post, which I had occupied only for a few hours, I became again a private individual and a prisoner. A large escort took us along a rocky road following the course of the Gakkon River along barren cliffs.

We pa.s.sed hundreds of _choktens_, large and small, mostly painted red, and _mani_ walls. Then, having descended by a precipitous track on whitish clay-soil, we reached a thickly inhabited district, where stone houses were scattered all over the landscape. We saw on our left the large monastery of Delaling, and, a little way off, the Gomba of Sibling. Describing a sweeping curve among rocks and bowlders, we rounded the high, graceful cliff, on the top of which towered the fort and monasteries of Taklakot.

Such was our anxiety, when we reached this point, lest something should happen and we should be taken back again by another route, that as soon as we were across the wooden bridge over the Gakkon River, Chanden Sing and I, on perceiving the large Shoka encampment at the foot of the hill, lashed our ponies and ran away from our guard. Galloping our hardest along the high cliff, riddled with holes and pa.s.sages in which the natives live, we found ourselves at last among friends again. The Shokas, who had come over to this market to exchange their goods with the Tibetans, were astounded when they saw us. They recognized us with great difficulty.

We inquired at once for Doctor Wilson. When we found him the good man could hardly recognize us, so changed were we. He seemed deeply moved at our pitiable condition.

When the news of our arrival spread in camp, we met with the greatest kindness at the hands of everybody. In a corner of Wilson's tent was a large quant.i.ty of candied sugar--several pounds. So famished was I that I threw myself on it and quickly devoured the lot. Later, my Shoka friends brought in all kinds of presents in the shape of eatables, and Rubso, the doctor's cook, was set to prepare an elaborate meal.

The British Political Frontier Officer, Karak Sing, hurried to me with a change of clothes. Other garments were given me by Doctor Wilson. My own ragged attire was literally swarming with vermin. Our guard had not allowed us a single change of clothes, nor would they even hear of our washing daily. It was by a special favor, and merely on account of its sanct.i.ty, that we were allowed to plunge into the sacred Mansarowar Lake.

Later in the day my wounds and injuries were examined by Doctor Wilson, who sent official reports to the Government of India.

Tenderly nursed by Wilson and Karak Sing, and having partaken of plenty of good food, my spirits, which had fallen rather low, revived as by magic. After a few hours of happiness, I was already beginning to forget the hardships and sufferings I had endured. I remained three days at Taklakot, during which time part of my confiscated baggage was returned to me by the Tibetans. I was overjoyed to discover that among the things thus recovered were my diary, note-books, maps, and sketches. My firearms, most of my money, the gold ring credited with wonderful powers, several mathematical instruments, collections, over four hundred photographic negatives, and various other articles were still missing,[15] but I was glad to get back as much as I did.

To Doctor Wilson's tent came the Tokchim Tarjum, his private secretary, Nerba, whom the reader may remember as having played an important part in my tortures, the Jong Pen's secretary, and Lapsang in his handsome green velvet coat with ample sleeves. These Tibetan officials admitted before the Political Officer, Doctor Wilson, Pundit Gobaria, and many Shokas, and even professed to be proud of what they had done to me. They used expressions not at all flattering to the British Government, for which they seemed to entertain great contempt.

I nearly got the Political Officer and the doctor into a sc.r.a.pe. My blood, the little I had left, was boiling with rage at hearing the Tibetan insults. The climax came when Nerba refused to give back my mother's ring, which he had upon him. In a pa.s.sion I seized a knife that was lying by me, and leaped upon Nerba, the ruffian who had once fired at me, and had held me by the hair while my eyes were being injured, as well as during the preliminaries for my execution. Wilson and Karak Sing checked me, and took the knife out of my hand. There was a general stampede of the Tibetan officers, and our interview and negotiations were brought to an abrupt end.