An Explorer's Adventures in Tibet Part 7

He would try to buy from him sufficient provisions to enable us to go on a few days longer.

Disguised as pilgrims, a disguise not difficult to a.s.sume, for their clothes were falling to pieces owing to the rough marching we had done of late, the men started and were away the whole day. When they returned late at night they had an amusing tale to tell. Meeting a tribe of Dogpas, they had boldly entered their camp, asking to purchase food.

Unfortunately the Dogpas had not sufficient for themselves, and could not spare any. Incidentally my men were informed that _Lando Plenki_ (the name the Tibetans had given me) had taken a large army of men into Tibet. Great excitement prevailed at Taklakot as well as at other places, owing to the fact that the Englishman had the strange power of making himself invisible when the Tibetan soldiers were near him. He had been heard of in many places in Tibet. Soldiers had been sent in all directions to capture him. His tracks had several times been discovered and followed. Yet he could never be found. Messengers had been hastily sent out from Taklakot to Lha.s.sa (sixteen days' journey), and to Gartok, a great market in West Tibet, asking for soldiers to a.s.sist in the capture of this strange invader, who was also said to have the power of walking on water when crossing rivers and of flying over mountains when he chose.

When I recalled our struggles and sufferings in climbing over the mountains and in crossing the streams on our journey, this account of myself given by the Tibetans, and now repeated to me, struck me as almost cruelly ironical. I was pleased that the Tibetans credited me with such supernatural powers, for it would keep them from getting too close to us.

Three more long days were spent in painful anxiety regarding the fate of our messengers. We feared that they had been captured and beheaded. We had retired in despair to our fortress. It was 10 P.M. We were worn out and ready to turn in. Our fire at the bottom of the creek was slowly dying out. Nature around us was as still and silent as death. I suddenly heard sounds of approaching steps. We listened, peeping through the narrow openings in our wall. Were these Tibetans trying to surprise us in our sleep or were they my men returning at last?

We closely watched the gorge from which the sounds came--yes, faint sounds of voices and of footsteps. At last four staggering figures crawled cautiously into camp. We could not even then discern in the dim light whether they were our messengers or not.

"_Kuan hai?_" (Who is there?) I shouted.

"Dola!" replied a voice. We gave them a joyful and hearty greeting, but our happiness was not to last long. The men did not respond. They seemed quite exhausted and terrified. I asked them to explain the cause of their distress. Sobbing and embracing my feet, they at first declined to tell me. Grave, indeed, was the news they brought.

"Your days are numbered, sir!" at last cried Dola. "It is impossible for you to get out of this country alive!... They will kill you! The Jong Pen of Taklakot says he must have your head at any cost."

"Do not look so far ahead, Dola," I replied, trying to console him.

"Tell me, first, how you reached Taklakot?"

"Oh, sahib, we followed your plan. We suffered much on the road. The marches were long and severe, and we had little food. We walked day and night for two days, keeping away from the track, and hiding whenever we saw any one. When we got near the Tibetan fort we saw, at the foot of the hill, a few tents of Shokas from Nepal. None of the Shokas from British Territory had been allowed to enter Tibet. A guard kept a sharp lookout day and night in order to arrest anybody entering the country from that side. Two fakirs, who were on a pilgrimage to the sacred Mansarowar Lake, unaware of the danger, had crossed over the Lippu Pa.s.s, and had proceeded down to Taklakot. They were immediately seized and accused of being you, sir, in disguise. As the Tibetans were not quite certain as to which of the two was the disguised Englishman, they severely punished both, beating them almost to death. What became of them we were unable to learn. The Tibetans afterward found out that you had entered Tibet by another pa.s.s, and soldiers have been sent in every direction to look for you.

"No sooner did we appear at Taklakot," sobbed Dola, "than we were pounced upon, knocked about, and arrested. They cross-examined us closely. We professed to be Johari traders who had run short of food, and had made for Taklakot to buy provisions. They beat us and treated us badly, until your friend Zeniram, the head village man of Chongur (in Nepal), came to our rescue and gave thirty rupees surety for us. We were then allowed to remain in his tent, guarded by Tibetan soldiers. We secretly purchased from him and packed the provisions. At night Zeniram succeeded in decoying the soldiers who were guarding us into his tent, and gave them _chokti_ to drink until they became intoxicated. One by one we four succeeded in escaping with our loads. For three nights we marched steadily back, hiding during the day. Now we have returned to you, sir."

Dola paused for a minute or two.

"Sir," he continued, "we were told in Taklakot that over a thousand soldiers are searching for you everywhere. More are expected from Lha.s.sa and Sigatz,[5] whither the Jong Pen has hastily sent messengers. They fear you, sir, but they have orders from Lha.s.sa to capture you at any cost. They say that you can make yourself invisible when you wish.

Exorcisms are made and prayers offered daily, so that in future you may be seen and arrested. Once caught, they will have no pity on you. You will be beheaded. The Jong Pen is angry with you, owing to the defiant messages you sent him from Garbyang. He has given orders to the soldiers to bring you back dead or alive. Whoever brings your head will receive a reward of five hundred rupees."

"I had no idea my head was so valuable!" I could not help exclaiming. "I shall take great care of it in the future."

In Tibet five hundred rupees represent a large fortune. The man possessing such a sum is a rich man.

My men looked upon the whole affair as very serious.

I gave a handsome reward to the four men who had brought the provisions, but that did not prevent all my Shokas declaring that the danger was so great that they must leave me there and then. Appeals are useless on such occasions. I simply said that I should shoot any man attempting to leave camp. Having now provisions for ten days, I informed my men that we must at sunrise push on.

Sulky and grumbling, the Shokas left the fortified corner and went below to the creek. They said they preferred sleeping down there. I suspected them. I sat up watching them and listening instead of sleeping. My Indian servant rolled himself up in his blanket, and, as usual, was soon asleep. The Shokas lighted a fire, sat around it, and with their heads close together held an excited council in a half-whisper. In the heated discussion some spoke louder than they imagined. The night being particularly still, and the place well adapted for carrying sound, I overheard words which put me on the alert. I soon convinced myself that they were arranging to sell my head ... yes ... and to divide the money!

The men got closer together, and spoke so faintly that I could hear no more. Then they each in turn placed one hand above the other along a stick, until the end of it was reached; each man then pa.s.sed it to his neighbor, who went through the same performance; a queer kind of drawing lots, common among the Shokas. Eventually the man selected by fate drew from a load a large Gourkha knife, and removed its scabbard. I well remember the moment when the men, with their faces lighted by the small flame of the flickering fire, all looked up toward my aerie. Seen from the fissure in the wall behind which I knelt, their countenances seemed distorted and ghastly. They listened to hear if we were asleep. Then all but one rolled themselves in their blankets, completely covering their heads and bodies. The one figure I could now see sat up by the fire for some time, as if thinking hard. Every now and then he turned his head up toward my fortress and listened. At last he got up and, with his feet, smothered the fire. It was a lovely night, and as soon as the reddish flame was put out the stars shone like diamonds in the deep-blue sky.

I rested the barrel of my rifle on the wall, my eyes being fixed on the black figure down below. Stooping low, the traitor crawled step by step the few yards up to my abode, pausing to listen each time a rolling stone caused a noise. He was now only two or three yards away. He seemed to hesitate. Drawing back, and ready to spring up, I kept my eyes fixed on the top of the wall. I waited some time, but the man was in no hurry.

I grew impatient.

I slowly got up, rifle in hand, and as I raised my head above the wall I found myself face to face with the man on the other side. I lost no time in placing the muzzle of my Mannlicher rifle close to his face. The surprised Shoka, dropping his knife, went down on his knees and begged my pardon. He received a good pounding with the b.u.t.t of my rifle. I felt I had better ascertain that no further disturbance took place during the night. Two men attempted to crawl out of camp and desert, but I discovered them and stopped them in time. At last the sun rose, and the night ended with all its troubles and anxieties.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: Usually called "Shigatze" on English maps.]

CHAPTER X

AMONG ENEMIES AND ROBBERS

On my last scouting journey up the hill above Terror Camp I had seen, by the aid of my telescope, the encampment of a guard of Tibetans about three miles north of us.

In the morning we dug up the main part of the baggage we had buried, and made ready to start. One of my men, named Nattoo, came forward and professed to be able to guide me directly to the Mansarowar Lake. He seemed anxious to undertake this task, saying that there would be no chance of being seen by Tibetans by the route he knew, and therefore we might march during the daytime.

Led by this man, we started up the creek. I was astonished at the willingness with which the Shokas agreed to proceed. In a short time I felt convinced that Nattoo was deliberately taking us to the spot I most wished to avoid. On my remonstrating and stopping farther progress in that direction, the Shokas mutinied, and, laying down their loads, tried to escape. Chanden Sing quickly barred their way ahead in the narrow creek. I prevented their escape from the opposite side. They had to surrender. They were all severely punished there and then. On being closely cross-examined, they confessed that they had made a plot to hand me over to the Tibetan guard, in order to escape themselves the horrors of torture by the Tibetans. This last act of treachery, coming after what had happened during the night, and from the very men to whom I had been so kind, was too much for me. I used a stick, which Chanden Sing handed me, freely on their backs and legs--Nattoo receiving the largest share of blows, because he was undoubtedly the leader of the conspiracy.

On climbing to a high point of vantage I made another discovery. Besides the guard we had to the north of us, both east and west our way was barred by Tibetan soldiers. It was not possible to get on during the day without being seen. I absolutely refused to go back south. I held a council with my men, now apparently resigned to their fate. They agreed to accompany me as far as the Maium Pa.s.s (on the road to Lha.s.sa), which we reckoned we could reach in fifteen to eighteen marches. They further agreed to endeavor to obtain yaks and food for me, and I was then to dismiss them.

From the summit of the hill I had climbed I had taken careful bearings.

At night, aided by my luminous compa.s.s, I led my men high up along the mountain range at an average elevation of 1500 feet above the Gyanema-Taklakot track.

The night was dark and stormy. We encountered much difficulty on our journey forward, owing to the slippery ground. Where it was not slippery we trod over troublesome loose stones. We could not see far ahead.

Though we well knew from the angle of the slope that we were travelling along a precipice, we could not distinguish anything under us except a very bright streak far, far down below--undoubtedly the river.

I could not explain the luminosity of the water. It did not seem to come from reflection of the light of stars or the moon, because the sky was cloudy at the time. The river had a curious greenish tint, closely resembling the light produced by an electric discharge. In the more dangerous spots we had to proceed for long distances on all-fours. Even then we felt hardly safe, for we could hear the sound of the stones rolling down the steep slope, and by the length of time they took to reach the bottom we knew that we were proceeding over a precipice of extraordinary height. So difficult and painful was the walking that it took us about four hours to go some three miles. We felt so exhausted that from time to time we had to lie down and rest, shivering with cold.

Our hands were bleeding from cuts caused by the sharp stones. I mustered my men. Poor Mansing, the leper, was missing. When we last spoke to him he was moaning under his load, and he constantly stumbled and fell. Two men were sent in search, but after an hour's absence they failed to discover him. Faithful Chanden Sing and the Shoka Dola were then despatched to his rescue. After another hour of anxiety the two returned, bringing the unfortunate coolie with them. The poor fellow's hands and feet were badly cut. The pain in the latter was so great that he could no more stand erect. He had fallen in a faint from exhaustion, and it was by a mere chance that in the darkness Chanden Sing stumbled against his senseless body. Apart from his life, his loss would have been a serious matter to me, as he carried my bedding and photographic cameras.

Sleet and rain commenced to fall. The cold was intense. We continued to climb steadily, Chanden Sing and I helping the poor leper along. The march soon became less difficult, as we were following a depression formed by the action of melting snows. We were sheltered from the piercing wind, which had been driving the sleet hard into our faces. We slowly covered some three more miles. During that time the storm pa.s.sed away, leaving the atmosphere beautifully clear. When we reached the pa.s.s (over 17,000 feet high) a curious optical phenomenon astonished us all.

The larger stars and planets, of a dazzling brilliancy, such as I had never in my life seen before, seemed to swing to and fro in the sky with rapid and sudden jerks, describing short arcs of a circle, and returning each time to their normal position. The effect was so weird that I at first believed something had gone wrong with my vision, but my companions saw the same phenomenon. More curious still was the illusion of the stars nearer the horizon disappearing and reappearing behind the mountain range. The oscillations of the heavenly bodies nearer the horizon were less rapid, but the angle of the arc described measured almost double that traced by the stars directly above our heads. The oscillations of the latter were, especially at certain moments, so rapid that the star itself, instead of having its normal appearance, formed a continuous streak of light on the deep-blue background of the sky. This strange optical illusion, which began soon after the storm had cleared away, lasted some time. Gradually the oscillations became less violent, and stars and planets eventually resumed their normal steadiness, shining with great brilliancy and beauty.

We crossed the pa.s.s, and halted directly on the northern side of it. My followers suffered intense pain. Their feet were in a terrible condition. The minimum temperature was 12 Fahrenheit. We did not pitch our tent, and when we went to sleep there was only a blanket between us and heaven. When we woke in the morning we found the thermometer had risen to 30. We were enveloped in thick mist, which chilled us to the marrow of our bones. I had icicles hanging from my mustache, eyelashes, and hair. My cheeks and nose were covered with a thin layer of ice, caused by the breath settling and congealing on my face.

During our night marches up and down mountain ranges of great height we naturally had many adventures and escapes. In constant storms of grit and snow we crossed range after range, travelling at night and hiding during the day, always camping at great elevations. We underwent considerable privations. I steered my men toward the Rakastal, or Devil's Lake. One day, having risen to 17,550 feet, we obtained a magnificent view of the two great sheets of water, the Lafan-cho and Mafan-cho, more commonly known to non-Tibetans under the names of Rakastal and Mansarowar lakes.

To the north of the lakes stood the magnificent Tize, the sacred Kelas Mountain, overtopping by some 2000 feet all the other snowy peaks of the Gangri chain. This chain extended roughly from north-west to south-east. From this spot we could see more distinctly than from Lama Chokten the band round the base of the mountain, which, according to legend, was formed by the rope of the Rakas (devil) trying to tear down this throne of Siva.

Tize, the great sacred peak, was of fascinating interest, owing to its peculiar shape. It resembled the giant roof of a temple.

Perhaps it lacked the gracefulness of sweeping curves. Tize was angular--uncomfortably angular. Its height, the vivid color of its base, and the ma.s.ses of snow that covered its slopes certainly gave it a peculiar attraction. Otherwise it struck me as being intensely unpicturesque--at least from the point from which I saw it and from which the entire face of it was visible. When clouds toned down and modified its shape, Tize appeared at its best from a painter's point of view. Under these conditions, I have thought it beautiful, especially at sunrise, with one side tinted red and yellow, and its exposed rocky ma.s.s standing majestic against a background of shiny gold. With my telescope I could plainly distinguish, especially on the east side, the defile along which the worshippers make the circuit at the base of the mountain. I was told that some pilgrims actually march round it on the snowy ledge directly over the base, just above the darker band of rock described before. On the south-west side could be seen, on the top of a lower peak, a gigantic _obo_ (a pyramid of stone).

The journey round Tize usually takes three days. Some accomplish it in two days, and under favorable circ.u.mstances it has even been done in one day. It is usual for the pilgrims to say certain prayers and make sacrifices as they proceed. The more fanatical perform the journey serpentwise, lying flat on the ground at each step. Others do it on their hands and knees, and others walking backward.

Tize, or Kelas, has an elevation of 21,830 feet, and Nandiphu, west of it, 19,440 feet. North-west of the sacred mountain are visible other summits 20,460 feet, 19,970 feet, and 20,280 feet high.

While I was sketching this panorama a snow leopard bounded gracefully before us. Animal life seemed to abound. I had a shot or two at a _thar_ (mountain goat), and we saw any number of _kiang_ (wild horse). We found rhubarb, which seemed to be thriving at so high an elevation as 17,000 feet, and quant.i.ties of yellow flowers in the same locality and at the same elevation. At 19,000 feet I netted two couples of small white-and-black b.u.t.terflies. They seemed to have great difficulty in flying.

On nearing the lakes the atmosphere seemed saturated with moisture. No sooner had the sun gone down than there was a heavy dew, which soaked our blankets and clothes. We were at 16,550 feet in a narrow, marshy creek in which we had descended precipitously from the last mountain range. From the summit of the range we had seen many columns of smoke rising from the neighborhood of the Devil's Lake. We judged that we must again proceed with great caution.

We cooked our food. In the middle of the night, for greater safety, we shifted our camp in a north-easterly direction on the summit of the plateau. We continued our journey in the morning high above the magnificent blue sheet of the Devil's Lake with its pretty islands.

"Sir, do you see that island?" exclaimed Nattoo, pointing at a barren rock in the lake. "On it," he continued, "lives a hermit Lama, a saintly man. He has been there alone for many years, and he is held in great veneration by the Tibetans. He exists almost entirely on fish and occasional swan's eggs. Only in winter, when the lake is frozen, is communication established with the sh.o.r.e, and supplies of _tsamba_ are brought to him. There are no boats on the Devil's Lake, nor any way of constructing rafts, owing to the absence of wood. The hermit sleeps in a cave, but generally comes out in the open to pray to Buddha."