Dacoits--No nonsense allowed--A much-frequented region--A
plateau--The Gyanema-Taklakot track--A dangerous spot--Soldiers
waiting for us--Burying our baggage--Out of provisions--A fall
into the Gakkon River--A bright idea--Nettles our only diet.
IN front of us, to the N.E., was a high mountain, then farther towards
the East, a narrow valley between two hill ranges, while at 238° (b.m.) a
river passed through a picturesque gorge in the direction of the Mangshan
Mountain.
It was necessary for me to proceed along the valley to the east, as we
should thus save ourselves much trouble, time and exertion, though there
would be some risk of our meeting Tibetans, especially bands of dacoits,
with whom this part of Nari Khorsum[18] is infested. We had, therefore,
to proceed cautiously, especially as my Shokas seemed no less timid and
afraid of these folks. We had hardly gone half a mile over the undulating
country, and I had stopped behind my men to take some observations with
my prismatic compass, when my carriers suddenly threw themselves flat on
the ground and began to retreat, crawling on hands and knees.
"_Dakus, Dakus!_" ("Brigands, brigands!") they whispered, as I got near
them.
It was too late. We had been seen, and a number of dacoits, armed with
matchlocks and swords, came rapidly towards us. It has always been my
experience that, in such cases, the worst thing to do is to run away, for
nothing encourages a man more than to see that his opponent is afraid of
him. I therefore loaded my Mannlicher, and my bearer did likewise with
the Martini-Henry. I gave orders to the Shokas to squat down by their
respective loads and not stir an inch. We two strolled towards the fast
approaching band, now less than a hundred yards distant. I shouted to
them to stop, and Chanden Sing signalled that they must go back; but they
took no notice of our warnings, and came on all the faster towards us.
Undoubtedly they thought that we were only Shoka traders, and looked,
from experience, to find an easy prey. Making ready to rush us as soon as
they got near enough, they separated with the obvious intention of taking
us on all sides.
[Illustration: SHEEP CARRYING LOAD]
"_Dushu! Dushu!_" ("Go back!") I cried angrily at them, raising my rifle
to my shoulder and taking a steady aim at the leader. Chanden Sing
followed suit with one of the others, and this seemed to have a salutary
effect on them, for they immediately made a comical salaam and took to
their heels, Chanden Sing and I pursuing them for some distance so as to
get them well out of our way. Having occupied a prominent position on a
small mound, we discovered that a short way off they had a number of
mates and some three thousand sheep, presumably their last loot. We
signalled that they must get away from our course, and eventually,
driving their booty before them, they scurried off in the direction I
indicated. When they were well clear of us, and my Shokas, who thought
their last hour had come, had partly recovered from their fright, we
proceeded on our journey, entering the narrow valley between the two hill
ranges. That we were now in a much-frequented region could be plainly
seen from the numerous encamping-grounds alongside the stream. But our
success of the morning had raised our spirits, and we stepped out
cheerily, keeping to the left bank. A steepish climb brought us to a
plateau at an altitude of 16,400 feet, from which we obtained a fine view
of the snow range running from East to West from the Mangshan Mountain to
the Lippu Pass, and beyond to the N.E. the four lofty peaks of Nimo
Nangil, 25,360 feet, 22,200 feet, 22,850 feet, 22,670 feet. The highest
peaks were at 84°, 92°, 117° (b.m.). This plateau sloped gently, and was
broken by many deep crevasses, conveying the water-flow down into the
Gakkon River.
On the lower portion of this plateau, and then along the course of the
river, a track ran from Gyanema to Taklakot _viâ_ Kardam and Dogmar, and
another seldom-frequented track to Mangshan, S.S.W. of this place. The
edge of the plateau was 15,800 feet above sea-level, and the river 550
feet lower.
This was for us a very dangerous spot, since, no doubt, by this time the
Tibetans must be aware that I had escaped and was well on my way into
their country. I knew that soldiers and spies must be guarding all the
tracks and searching for us. This thoroughfare, being more frequented
than the others, was all the more insecure, and we had to display great
caution in order to avoid detection. In Tibet, I may here note, the
atmosphere is so clear that moving objects can be plainly seen at
exceptionally long distances. I scoured the country with my telescope,
but I could see no one, so we went on. However, my men considered it
safer to descend into one of the numerous creeks, where we should be less
exposed, but we had hardly reached the border of it when we heard noises
rising from the valley below.
[Illustration: DACOITS WITH A BOOTY OF SHEEP]
Crawling on our stomachs, my bearer and I peeped over the edge of the
plateau. Some five hundred feet below was a Tibetan encampment, with a
number of yaks and ponies grazing. Unnoticed, I watched them for some
time. There were several soldiers, most probably posted there on the
look-out for me. With my glass I recognised some of the Gyanema men. We
deemed it advisable to find a spot where we could hide until night came.
Then, making a détour, we descended to the river, 15,250 feet, scrambled
across in the dark, and made our way up a narrow gorge between high
cliffs until we came to a well-hidden spot, where I called a halt.
Followed by my men, I climbed up from rock to rock on the cliff to our
left, and found a small natural platform, sheltered by a huge boulder
projecting over it. This seemed a safe enough spot for us to stop. We
dared not put up a tent, and we took the precaution of burying all our
baggage in case of a surprise during the night. Unhampered, we should at
any moment be able to hide ourselves away from our pursuers or run before
them, and we could always come back afterwards for our things if an
opportunity offered itself.
And now, just as everything seemed to be running smoothly, I made a
terrible discovery. At this stage of the journey, when it was important
for me to move very rapidly, I found that we were out of provisions. This
was indeed an unpleasant surprise, for before leaving the larger body of
my expedition I had given orders to my men to take food for ten days. The
doctor, who had been deputed to see to this, had assured me that the
loads contained quite enough to last us over that length of time, and now
for some unaccountable reason we had only sufficient food for one meagre
meal. Moreover, I discovered that we had only a few grains of salt left.
"What have you done with it?" I inquired angrily, as it immediately
flashed across my mind that there had been foul play among my carriers. I
had ordered each man to take half seer (1 lb.) of salt.
"Yes, sahib, but we forgot to take it," said the men in a chorus.
After the terrible hardships and fatigue we had gone through, and the
anxiety and difficulty of carrying on my surveying, photography,
sketching, writing, collecting, &c., under conditions of unusual
discomfort and risk, it was, indeed, a hard blow to me to see all my
plans thus unexpectedly frustrated, for we were still three or four days'
journey from Mansarowar, where I relied on getting fresh supplies. Having
come thus far, should I be compelled now to go back or give in, and be
captured by the Tibetan soldiers whom I had so successfully evaded?
Though not usually much affected by physical pain, I unfortunately suffer
greatly under any mental stress. I felt quite ill and depressed, and, to
add bodily discomfort to my moral sufferings, came the fact that I had
slipped, while jumping in semi-darkness from stone to stone across the
Gakkon River, and had fallen flat into about four feet of water. The wind
was very high at the time, and the thermometer down to 26°, so that,
sitting in my wet clothes to discuss our present situation with my men, I
suddenly became so cold, shivery and exhausted, that I thought I was
about to collapse altogether. My usual good spirits, which had done much
towards carrying me so far, seemed extinguished; my strength failed me
entirely, and a high fever set in, increasing in violence so fast that,
notwithstanding my desperate struggle not to give in, I became almost
delirious. With my teeth chattering and my temperature at its highest, I
saw all my troubles assume an exaggerated form, and failure seemed
inevitable. The more I ransacked my brain the more hopeless seemed our
position, until, when I was almost in despair, an expedient suddenly
flashed across my mind; an idea more adapted for romance perhaps than
real life, yet not, I hoped, impossible to be carried into execution.
Four of my men should go disguised, two as traders and two as beggars,
into the Takla[19] fort, and purchase food from my enemies. We remaining
in camp would, in the meantime, keep well hidden until they returned. I
spoke to my followers, and after some easily conceivable reluctance, four
Shokas undertook to perform, the daring duty. Discovery would mean to
them the loss of their heads, probably preceded by cruel tortures of all
kinds; so, though they eventually betrayed me, I cannot help giving them
credit for the pluck and fidelity they displayed in the present
emergency.
During the night my men were extremely good to me. We did not sleep for
fear of being surprised by the Tibetan soldiers, and we passed hour after
hour listening to Shoka stories of brigands and Tibetan tortures,
terrible enough not only to keep us awake, but to make every hair on our
heads stand on end. Early in the morning, when it grew light, we gathered
a quantity of nettles, which were to be found in profusion at this camp,
and having boiled them in different fashions, we made of them a hearty if
not an appetising meal. They did not seem very unpalatable at the time,
only it was unfortunate that we had no more salt, for that would have
added to the digestibility of our prickly diet. We supplied the
deficiency by mixing with them a double quantity of pepper, and it was a
relief to know that, while nettles existed near our camp, we should at
least not die of starvation.
[18] Nari Khorsum--name of that province.
[19] Takla-khar or Taklak t = _Takla_ fort.