Dimapur--A terrible storm--Cultivation--Aggression by Konoma--My
ultimatum--Konoma submits--Birth of a son--Forest flowers--A fever
patient--Proposed change of station--Leave Naga Hills--March
through the forest--Depredation by tigers--Calcutta--Return
to England.
Once more before the weather began to be unpleasantly hot, we went
down to Dimapur that I might inspect the road and a rest house being
built at Nowkatta. Dimapur though hot, was pleasant enough in the
evening, when I used to row my wife about on the large tank in a
canoe which just held us both. We could see a few feet below the
surface, the remains of the post set up when a tank is dedicated to
the deity. This post is usually many feet above the water, but here
it had rotted away from age. On a tree close to the rest house I shot
a chestnut coloured flying squirrel.
One sultry afternoon I rode out alone to Nowkatta. About half-way
I was stopped by a sudden storm, one of the most terrific I have
ever seen; the wind howled through the forest, and the trees swayed
to and fro literally like blades of grass. As the storm increased,
trees were torn up by the roots right and left, and some that were
very firmly rooted were shattered in pieces. Many of these trees
were 80 to 120 feet in height, and large in proportion, but the
wind was so high that I never heard the sound of the crash. I hardly
expected to escape being crushed by a falling tree, and nothing but
the extreme activity of my pony, a little Manipuri, saved me. I was
at length enabled to get on to Nowkatta, but as I returned, I had
much difficulty in making my way through the masses of fallen trees
which formed an obstacle often six feet in height, and I could only
pass them by penetrating the dense underwood, and riding round one end.
I returned to Dimapur later than I expected and drenched by the
soaking rain. Next day we went back to Samagudting very glad to
be again in a cooler atmosphere. We both paid for our visit to the
lowlands in a sharp attack of intermittent fever. Luckily, my wife
speedily recovered; but it told on my system, already saturated with
malaria and was the forerunner of constant attacks.
Except for its unhealthiness, Dimapur was a nice place, and, if
properly opened out, and cultivated, the country would be far more
salubrious. For this reason I advocated families being induced to
settle there as cultivators; and I had a scheme for establishing a
Police Militia Reserve in that district. I thought that a certain
number of the Naga Hills police might with advantage be discharged
every year and enlisted as reserve men, liable to serve when needed
in case of trouble; a reduced rate of pay to be given to each man,
and a grant of land to cultivate. I believe the system would have
worked well, but it was not sanctioned.
An incident occurred in the month of August which might have proved
serious. A native of a Kutcha Naga village within sight of Samagudting
came to complain that, while gathering wild tea-seed for sale, he
had been driven off by a Konoma Naga. Konoma, though not the most
populous village, had long been considered the most powerful and
warlike in the hills, and a threat from one of its members was almost a
sentence of death to a man from a weak village. The Merema clan also,
one of the worst in the hills for lawless deeds, had never made its
submission to Captain Butler, though it had on one occasion to his
predecessor. On hearing the man's complaint, I at once sent off a
message by a Naga calling upon the chiefs of Konoma to come in to me,
and also to cease molesting their neighbours; but the man returned,
saying that they refused to come in, and intended to do as they liked
with the tea-seed, as it was theirs. This was more than I could put up
with, and I selected a particularly trustworthy man, a naik (corporal)
in the police named Kurum Singh, [13] who knew the Naga language, and
would, I was convinced, speak out fearlessly, and deliver my message. I
sent him off at once to Konoma to call upon the head-men to come in
without delay, and make their humble submission to me within a day
and a half of receiving the summons, failing which I would attack and
destroy their village. Kurum Singh left, and I felt rather anxious,
as Konoma contained five times as many warriors as I had police all
told, and it occupied a strong position; however, I felt I had done
my duty. It was a great satisfaction when Kurum Singh returned,
saying that the chiefs were coming in, and they did so within the
stipulated time, and made their submission and presented me with a
large state spear as a token of it. They also humbly apologised and
promised never to molest that Kutcha Naga village again; and when I
spoke of the Queen, begged me to write to her and say, that she must
not believe any idle tales against the Konoma men, as they would be
her humble servants. It was a satisfactory ending to what might have
been a troublesome business. The state spear now ornaments my hall.
On the 23rd June, my wife presented me with a son, and he being the
first child of pure European parentage born in the hills, the Nagas
of Samagudting took great interest in the baby, and old Yatsole the
Peumah, said he should be their chief and named him "Naga Rajah." The
friendly women and girls from the village constantly came to see
him. We liked the hills and the people, and the work so much that we
both felt we could willingly have passed our lives among them. All
the same, our accommodation was really most wretched, and food was
bad and scarce, and water scarcer. As the rainy season advanced the
place grew more and more unhealthy, and having a baby to attend to,
my wife never left Samagudting. I continued to go down to Dimapur
occasionally, and sometimes rode out with my friend Needham to inspect
the path that was being cut to Mohung Deejood and a rest house being
built at a place in the forest on that road, called Borsali. It was
pleasant to have a companion during a long lonely ride. Needham was an
indefatigable worker, and always ready for a dash. He made a capital
frontier officer, and has since greatly distinguished himself on the
N.-E. Frontier.
Towards the end of August, the Vanda Caerulea orchids began to come
into flower. There was a magnificent plant of them in a large old tree
on the summit of the hill, indeed the most splendid specimen of their
kind that I ever saw; but wild flowers, many really beautiful, were
generally procurable, especially a small snow-white flower rather like
a periwinkle that grew in the jungle on a small ever-green bush. Ferns,
including maidenhair, were very plentiful, and we made collections
of them in our morning and evening walks. These walks often led us
past stray huts, and once my wife was asked to come into one and
prescribe for a sick Naga woman. We both entered it and finding that
the woman had fever, we told her husband to keep her cool and quiet,
and promised some medicine. When we again went to see her, the hut,
about nine feet by seven feet in size, was full of little fires on the
floor, over which several Nagas were drying strips of flesh from an
elephant that had been killed a few miles away. The temperature must
have been about 110 degrees, so little wonder that the poor woman was
no better. The husband said she would not take her medicine, and when
in our presence he attempted to give it she hit him on the head; yet he
wore the warrior's kilt, so had taken at least one life. When my wife
sat down by her and gave her the medicine she took it readily. Towards
the end of the rainy season many were laid low by fever. Natives of
other parts of India until thoroughly acclimatised, suffer greatly
from the diseases peculiar to jungle districts, and our servants were
not exceptions to the rule. Once acclimatised, a Hindoostani seems
able to stand anything. It used to be said in my regiment, the 1st
Assam Light Infantry Battalion, now 42nd, that Hindoostani recruits
spent their first three years' service in hospital! I am sure that
something of the same kind might have been said of those who came to
the Naga Hills before the headquarters were removed to Kohima.
Captain Butler, recognising the unsuitableness of Samagudting for
a station, had recommended the removal of the headquarters to Woka,
in the Lotah Naga country, and about sixty-three miles from Kohima. I
spoke to him on the subject, and pointed out the superior advantages of
Kohima as a central position, dominating the Angami Naga country. He
quite agreed with me, but said he had advocated Woka as being nearer
the plains, nearer water carriage, and altogether a more comfortable
situation, especially for the officers. I went into the whole subject
most carefully, and before leaving the Naga Hills I thought it right to
record my opinion in a memorandum to the Government of Assam. This I
did, pointing out as forcibly as I could the very superior advantages
of Kohima, and urging most strongly that it should be adopted as our
headquarters station in the Naga Hills. As I was only the officiating
agent, I could not expect my views to carry as much weight as Captain
Butler's, but convinced as I was, I was bound to state them. The
question was not settled for some years when Kohima was the site
selected, and it has ever since been the headquarters station.
I had never got over the attack of fever I had in April, and as
the rainy season advanced, and we were for days together enveloped
in mist, I had constant attacks, with other complications, and as
Captain Butler was coming out in November, and the doctor strongly
recommended me to go to England again, I determined to apply for
leave. My friend Needham had gone on leave to Shillong, so I could
not think of starting till he returned. He was due at Samagudting
early in November, and I prepared to leave then. It was with most
sincere regret that we made arrangements for starting. We had got
used to the discomforts of the place and had been very happy there
and liked the people, and felt that they liked us; the cold weather
too was just beginning and everything around us looked beautiful.
I had determined to march straight through the forest to Doboka, and
thence take boat down the Kullung river to Gowhatty. It was a dreadful
march to undertake, along a mere track untraversed by any European for
years, but my wife liked the idea of it, and it was shorter than the
route via Nigriting. On November 6th, we reluctantly said "good-bye"
to all our kind friends at Samagudting and marched to Dimapur, where
we halted next day to get all our things into order. Some of the
chiefs of Samagudting accompanied us so far on our way and bade us a
sorrowful adieu on the 7th. One old fellow took quite an affectionate
farewell of our baby Dick. When I saw him again in 1879, he was blind,
and one of his pretty little girls was dying.
We marched through dense forest on the 8th to Borsali, my wife
riding and carrying the baby in her arms, there being no other mode
of progression along such a bad road. On the 9th after seven hours'
actual marching, we reached Mohung Deejood, a place prettily situated
on the banks of the Jumoona river with the last speck of the Rengma
Hills standing out in high relief behind the village, but at some
distance from it. Next day we again had a tiring march of eleven hours,
including a halt for breakfast at a place called "Silbheta" where
there are splendid waterfalls, and did not reach our halting place,
Bokuleea, till 6 P.M. The last two marches had been through a country
devastated by tigers which had literally eaten up the population; each
day we passed deserted village sites. At Bokuleea we made rafts and
floated down the river to Doboka, which we reached on November 13th.
Doboka is situated close to the hill of the same name and was
a prominent object from Samagudting. There we took boats, and
travelled in them down the Kullung river. We reached the junction
with the Burrhampooter at daybreak on November 17th, and Gowhatty
at midday. I was most thankful to see my wife and child safe in the
Dak Bungalow after what was for delicate people a perilous journey,
though an interesting and enjoyable one, through a country hardly ever
traversed by European officials, and never by women and children. After
a few days at Gowhatty to rest ourselves, we departed by steamer for
Goalundo, arriving there early on November 29th, and immediately left
for Calcutta, which we reached the same evening and went to stay with
our kind friends the Rivers Thompsons, with whom we had travelled
out to India in 1873. Glad as we were to be in civilised quarters
once more after all our wanderings, we could not help regretting the
kindly genial people we had left, and the beautiful scenery of the
forest and mountain land, where we had lived so long and so happily.
On arrival in Calcutta, I went before the Medical Board, but not liking
to go to England again so soon, I applied for three months' leave
to visit the North-West Provinces for change of air, and we visited
Benares, Lucknow, Cawnpore, and other towns. I do not attempt to
describe them, as it has been often done by abler pens than mine. The
after symptoms of malaria increased, and it was vain to prolong my stay
in India in the hope of a cure. The Medical Board said my appearance
was sufficient without examination, so we left Calcutta by the next
steamer, going by "long sea" to avoid the fatiguing journey across
India to Bombay. After unusually rough weather in the Mediterranean
and off the coast of Spain, we landed at Southampton, on March 9th,
at 9 P.M., and went on to London next morning.