"Terror Camp"--Two more messengers leave camp--A tribe of
Dogpas--A strange sahib--Our messengers return from Taklakot--The
account and adventures of their mission--In great distress--Two
fakirs who suffered through me--Five hundred rupees offered for
my head--The Shokas want to abandon me--A plot--How it failed.
WE named this spot "Terror Camp," for many and horrible were the
experiences that befell us here. Another weary day dragged slowly to its
close, and there was still no sign of the messengers' return. Two men
volunteered to go into Kardam, a settlement some miles off, and try to
obtain food from the Tibetans. One of them had a friend at this place,
and he thought he could get from him sufficient provisions to enable us
to go on a few days longer.
They started, disguised as pilgrims, a disguise not difficult to assume,
for their clothes were falling to pieces owing to the rough marching we
had done of late. They were away the whole day, and only returned late at
night, having 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, and that
great excitement prevailed at Taklakot as well as at other places, owing
to the fact that the sahib had the extraordinary power of making himself
invisible when the Tibetan soldiers were in his vicinity. He had been
reported as having been seen in many places in Tibet: soldiers had been
despatched in all directions to capture him. His tracks had several times
been discovered and followed, and yet he could never be found.
Messengers had been hastily sent out from Taklakot to Lhassa (sixteen
days' journey), and to Gartok, a great bazaar in West Tibet, asking for
soldiers to assist in the capture of this strange invader, who was also
said to have the power of walking on the water when crossing the 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. Anyhow, I was
pleased that the Tibetans credited me with such supernatural powers, for
it could hardly fail to be an advantage in keeping them from getting to
too close quarters with us.
Three more days had to be spent in a state of painful uncertainty and
anxiety regarding the fate of our messengers to Taklakot. On the night of
the 3rd we had retired to our fortress in despair, fearing that they had
been captured and probably beheaded. It was 10 P.M., and we were worn out
and ready to turn in; our fire down below at the bottom of the creek was
slowly dying out, and nature around us was still and silent, when I
suddenly heard sounds of approaching steps. We listened, peeping through
the fissures in our wall. Were these Tibetans trying to surprise us in
our sleep, or could they be our men returning at last?
We closely watched the gorge from which the sounds came, faint sounds of
voices and of footsteps. Silent as we were, there were not wanting signs
of the nervous excitement of my men. At last four staggering figures
crawled cautiously into camp, and we could not even then discern in the
dim light whether these were our messengers or not.
"_Kuan hai?_" ("Who is there?") I shouted.
"Dola!" replied a voice, and instantly 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 apparently terrified. I asked
them to explain the cause of their distress, but, sobbing and embracing
my feet, they showed great disinclination to tell me. Grave, indeed, was
the news they brought, presaging much trouble in store.
"Your days are numbered, sahib," at last cried Dola. "It is impossible
for you to get out of this country alive ... they will kill you, and the
Jong Pen of Taklakot says that he must have your head at all costs."
"Do not look so far ahead, Dola," I replied, trying to calm him, "but
tell me first how you reached Taklakot."
"Oh, sahib, we followed your plan. We suffered much on the road, as the
marches were long and severe, and we had very 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 the Tinker and Chongur Shokas from Nepal. None of
the Biassi or Chaudassi Shokas had been allowed to enter Tibet owing to
the Jong Pen's anger with them regarding his claims for land revenue.
There was a guard day and night at the river, and a sharp look-out was
kept to stop and arrest anybody entering the country. Two fakirs, who
were on a pilgrimage to the sacred Mansarowar, unaware of the danger, had
crossed over the Lippu Pass, and had proceeded down to Taklakot, where
they were immediately seized and accused of being you, sahib, in
disguise. As the Tibetans were not quite certain as to which of the two
was the real sahib, they severely punished both, beating them almost to
death. What became of them afterwards we were unable to learn. Anyhow,
the Tibetans subsequently found out that you had entered Tibet by another
pass, 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, and at night Zeniram succeeded in
decoying the soldiers that were guarding us into his tent, and gave them
_chökti_ to drink until they became intoxicated. One by one we four
succeeded in escaping with our loads. For three nights we marched
steadily back, concealing ourselves during the day for the sake of
safety. Now we have returned to you, sahib."
Dola paused for a minute or two.
"Sahib," he continued, "we were told in Taklakot that over a thousand
soldiers are searching for you everywhere, and more are expected from
Lhassa and Sigatz,[20] whither the Jong Pen has hastily sent messengers.
They fear you, sahib, but they have orders from Lhassa to capture you at
all costs. They say that you can make yourself invisible when you like,
and 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, and
you will be beheaded, for 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, and whoever brings your head
will receive a reward of 500 rupees."
"I had no idea that my head was so valuable," I could not help
exclaiming. "I shall take great care of it in the future."
As a matter of fact 500 rupees in Tibet represents a fortune, and the man
possessing it is a very rich man.
But my men were not in a laughing mood and they looked upon the whole
affair as very serious.
I gave a handsome backshish to the four men who had brought the
provisions, but that did not prevent all the Shokas declaring that the
danger was so great that they must leave me there and then. Appeals are
useless on such occasions, and so I simply stated that I should shoot any
man attempting to leave camp. Having now provisions for ten days, I
informed them that we must at once push on.
Sulky and grumbling they left our fortified corner and went below to the
creek. They said they preferred sleeping down there. I suspected them,
however, and I sat up watching them and listening instead of sleeping. My
bearer rolled himself up in his blanket and, as usual, was soon asleep.
The Shokas lighted a fire, sat round it, and with their heads close
together, held an excited council in semi-whispers. In the heated
discussion some spoke louder than they imagined, and the night being
particularly still and the place well adapted for carrying sound, I
overheard words which put me on the alert, for 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 passed it to his
neighbour, who went through the same form; a complicated manner of
drawing lots, common among the Shokas. Eventually the man selected by
fate drew from a load a large Gourkha _kukri_, and removed its scabbard.
A strange, almost fantastic impression remains on my mind of the moment
when the men, with their faces lighted by the small flame of the
flickering fire, all looked up towards my eyrie. The culminating point of
their treachery had come, and their countenances seemed ghastly and
distorted, as seen from the fissure in the wall behind which I knelt.
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
absorbed in thought. Every now and then he turned his head up towards 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 again like diamonds in the small patch of deep blue
sky visible above my head.
I rested the barrel of my rifle on the wall, my eyes being fixed on the
black figure down below. I watched as, stooping low, it crawled step by
step the few yards up to my abode, pausing to listen each time that a
rolling stone caused a noise. It was now only two or three yards away,
and 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, and 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 close to his face, and the
perplexed Shoka, dropping his _kukri_, went down on his knees to implore
my pardon. After giving him a good pounding with the butt of my rifle, I
sent him about his business. The man lacked the qualities of a murderer,
but I felt I had better see that no other disturbance took place during
the night. It is true that two men attempted to crawl out of camp and
desert, but I discovered this and stopped them in time. At last the sun
rose, and the night ended with all its troubles and anxieties.
[20] Sigatz, usually called "Shigatze" by English people.