Arrival of a high official--The Barca Tarjum--A tedious
palaver--The Tarjum's anxiety--Permission to proceed--A
traitor--Entreated to retrace our steps--Thirty armed horsemen--A
pretty speech.
QUITE early the next morning we were roused by the distant sound of
tinkling horse-bells. On looking out of the tent, I saw a long row of
pack-ponies heavily laden, escorted by a number of mounted soldiers with
matchlocks and spears. It was evident that some high official was coming.
This advance detachment consisted of his subalterns and his baggage. They
took a long sweep far away from our tent and dismounted by the Gyanema
fort. Other soldiers and messengers were constantly arriving in groups
from all directions. The leader of one party, with a considerable escort
of soldiers, was received with profuse salaams and I concluded that he
must be an important personage.
After some time a message was sent to us that this new comer, the Barca
Tarjum, practically a potentate equal in rank to a king under a
protectorate, wished to have the honour of seeing us. We replied that we
were having our breakfast and that we would send for him when we wished
to speak to him. Our experience had taught us that it was advisable to
treat Tibetan officials as inferiors, as they were then more subdued, and
easier to deal with. At eleven we despatched a messenger to the fort to
say we should be pleased to receive the Tarjum. He came immediately with
a large following, a picturesque figure dressed in a long coat of green
silk of Chinese shape, with large sleeves turned up, showing his arms up
to the elbow; he had a cap similar to those worn by Chinese officials,
and was shod with heavy long black boots, with large nails under the
soles. His long, pale, angular face was remarkable in many ways; it was
interestingly stolid, and though somewhat effeminate, had rather fine
features; unmistakable signs of depravity indicated his low class of mind
and morals. Long hair fell in loose curls down to his shoulders, and
hanging from his left ear was an earring of large dimensions, with
malachite ornaments and a pendant. In his nervous fingers he held a small
roll of Tibetan material, which he used with both hands as a handkerchief
to blow his nose inconsequently every time that he was at a loss to
answer a question. The Tarjum and his men were profuse in their bows, and
there was, as usual, a great display of tongues. These were, I noticed,
of an unhealthy whitish colour, caused throughout Tibet by excessive
tea-drinking, a practice which ruins the digestion, and furs their
tongues. We had rugs placed outside our principal tent, and the doctor
and I sat on one, asking the Tarjum to sit on the one facing us. His
followers squatted around him. It is a well-known fact that in Tibet, if
you are a "somebody," or if you wish people to recognise your importance,
you must have an umbrella spread over your head. Fortunately, the
ever-provident doctor had two in his possession; which two of our men
held over our respective heads. The Tarjum himself was shaded by a
parasol of colossal dimensions, held in position by his secretary.
In spite of the extravagant terms of friendship which fell from the
Tarjum's lips, I was convinced, by close observation of the man's face,
that his words were insincere and that it would be unsafe to trust him.
He never looked us straight in the face; his eyes were fixed on the
ground all the time, and he spoke in a despicably affected manner. I did
not like the man from the very first, and, friend or no friend, I kept my
loaded rifle on my lap.
[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS]
After endless ponderous speeches, clumsy compliments, and tender
inquiries after all relations they could possibly think of; after tiring
parabolic sentences with fine sounds but no meaning; after repeated
blowing of the nose and loud coughing, which always came on opportunely
when we asked whether they had yet come to a conclusion as to what we
should be allowed to do, at last, when my patience was nearly exhausted,
our negotiations of the previous day were reopened. We argued for hours.
We asked to be allowed to go on. They were still uncertain whether they
would let us or not. To simplify matters, and hasten their decision
before other reinforcements arrived, the doctor applied for permission to
let only eight of us proceed to Mansarowar. He (the doctor) himself would
remain at Gyanema with the remainder of the party as a guarantee of
good faith. But even this offer they rejected, not directly, but with
hypocritical excuses and delays, for they thought we would not find our
way, and that if we did, we should find it very rough, and the climate
too severe; that the brigands might attack us, and so on, and so on. All
this was very tiresome, and there were signs even of a nasty side to
their attitude. I decided to know what I was about.
Still holding the rifle cocked at safety on my lap, I turned the muzzle
of it towards the Tarjum, and purposely let my hand slide down to the
trigger. He became uncomfortable and his face showed signs of wild
terror. His eyes, until now fixed upon the ground, became first unsteady,
and then settled fixedly, and with a look of distress, on the muzzle of
my rifle. At the same time he tried to dodge the aim right or left by
moving his head, but I made the weapon follow all his movements. The
Tarjum's servants fully shared their master's fear. Without doubt the
poor fellow was in agony; his tone of voice, a moment before boisterous
and aggressive, now dwindled into the humblest intonations imaginable.
With much meekness he expressed himself ready to please us in every way.
"I see that you are good people," said he in a faint whisper, accompanied
by a deep bow. "I cannot give, as I would like to do, my official
sanction to your journey forward, but you can go if you wish. I cannot
say more. Eight of you can proceed to the sacred Mansarowar Lake. The
others will remain here."
Before giving his final decision he said that he would prefer to have
another consultation with his officers.
We accorded this readily.
The Tarjum then presented the doctor with a roll of Tibetan cloth.
[Illustration: THE BARCA TARJUM AND HIS OFFICERS]
I had bathed as usual in the morning, and my Turkish towel was spread
outside the tent to dry. The Tarjum, who showed great interest in all our
things, took a particular fancy to its knotty fabric. He sent for his
child to see this wonderful material, and when he arrived the towel was
placed on the youth's back as if it were a shawl. I at once offered it to
him as a present if he would accept it. There were no bounds to his
delight, and our relations, somewhat strained a few minutes earlier,
became now of the friendliest character. We invited the party inside our
tent, and they examined everything with curiosity, asking endless
questions. They were now quite jovial and pleasant, and even occasionally
amusing. Tibetans have a craving for alcohol at all times and they soon
asked me if I had any to give them; there was nothing they would like
more. As I never carry any when travelling, I could not offer them any
recognised drink, but not wishing to disappoint them, I produced a bottle
of methylated spirits (which I used for my hypsometrical apparatus). This
they readily drank, apparently appreciating its throat-burning qualities,
and asked for more. The Tarjum complained of an ailment from which he had
suffered for some time, and the doctor was able to give him a suitable
remedy, and all the other officers received small presents when they
departed.
In the afternoon a messenger came from the Barca Tarjum. He had good news
for us. The Tarjum wished us to understand that "as we had been so kind
to him and his followers, he regarded us as his personal friends; and as
we were so anxious to visit the Mansarowar Lake and the great Kelas
Mount, and had already experienced many difficulties and great expense in
coming so far, he agreed to eight of our party proceeding to the sacred
spots. It was impossible for him to give an official consent, but he
repeated again that we could go if we wished."
This news naturally delighted me. Once at Kelas, I felt sure I could
easily find some means of going farther.
On the same evening, a traitor in our camp sneaked from under the tent in
which my men were sleeping, and paid a visit to the Tarjum. There is no
doubt that he told him I was not the doctor's brother, nor a Hindoo
pilgrim. He disclosed that I was a sahib, and that I was on my way to
Lhassa. From what I heard afterwards, it seemed that the Tarjum did not
quite believe his informant; but fresh doubts arising in his mind, he
sent a message during the night, entreating us to return the way we came.
"If there is really a sahib in your party, whom you have kept concealed
from me, and I let you go on, my head will be cut off by the Lhassa
people. You are now my friends, and you will not allow this."
"Tell the Tarjum," I replied to the messenger, "that he is my friend, and
I will treat him as a friend."
In the morning, we found thirty horsemen fully armed posted some hundred
yards from our tent. To proceed with the demoralised crowd under me, and
be followed by this company, would certainly prove disastrous and I felt
again that some ruse was a necessity.
Much to the astonishment and terror of the armed force and their
superiors, the doctor, Chanden Sing and I, rifles in hand, walked firmly
towards the contingent of sepoys. After us came the trembling coolies.
The Magbun and the Tarjum's officers could hardly believe their eyes. The
soldiers quickly dismounted, and laid their arms down to show that they
had no intention of fighting. We passed them without any notice. The
Magbun ran after me. He begged me to stop one moment. Dola was summoned
to interpret his elaborate speech. A pair of prettily embroidered
cloth-boots were produced from the loose folds of the official's coat,
and he offered them with the following words:
"Though your face is sunburnt and black, and your eyes are sore (they
were not, as a matter of fact, but I wore snow-spectacles), your features
tell me that you are of a good family, therefore, you must be a high
officer in your country. Your noble feelings also show that you would not
have us punished for your sake, and now our hearts are glad to see you
retrace your steps. Let me offer you these boots, so that your feet may
not get sore on the long and difficult journey back to your native land."
It was neatly put, though the mode of reasoning was peculiar. It was not
to my interest to disillusionise the Tibetan as to my purpose, so I
accepted the boots. The Magbun and his guard salaamed to the ground.
Without further parleying, we left the Magbun, and retracing our steps,
proceeded in a W.S.W. direction as though we had decided to turn back,
and leave the country.