A Tibetan guard's encampment--Nattoo volunteers to be a
guide--Treachery and punishment of the Shokas--All ways forward
barred to me--Evading the soldiers by another perilous march at
night--Mansing again lost--A marvellous phenomenon--Sufferings of
my men--Severe cold.
ON my last scouting journey up the hill above the camp, I had espied, by
the aid of my telescope, the encampment of a guard of Tibetans, about
three miles north of us, and I informed my followers of this fact.
In the morning, when we again dug up the main part of our baggage and
made ready to start, one of the men, the Kutial Nattoo, came forward and
professed to be able to guide us directly to the Mansarowar Lake. He
seemed very anxious to undertake this task, saying that there would be no
chance of detection by the route he knew, and consequently we might march
during the daytime.
We started up the creek, led by this man, and I was astonished at the
willingness with which the Shokas agreed to proceed. In a little time I
felt convinced that he was deliberately taking us to the spot I most
wished to avoid. On my remonstrating and stopping further progress in
that direction, the Shokas mutinied and, depositing their loads, tried to
escape, but my bearer quickly barred their way ahead in the narrow creek
and I prevented their escape from the opposite side, so they had to
surrender. Painful as it was to me, I had to severely punish them all,
and while I took care that no one should bolt, Chanden Sing took special
pleasure in knocking them about until they were brought back to their
senses. On being closely cross-examined, they openly confessed that they
had made a plot to hand me over to the Tibetan guard, in order to escape
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
whom I had just been more than lenient towards, was too much for me, and
I used a stick, which Chanden Sing handed me, very freely on their backs
and legs, Nattoo the Kutial receiving the largest share of blows, because
he was undoubtedly the head of the conspiracy.
On climbing to a point of vantage, I now further discovered that, besides
the guard we had to the north of us, both east and west our way was
barred by Tibetan soldiers, and although it was not possible to get on
during the day without being seen, I absolutely refused to go back south.
I held a palaver with my men, who were apparently resigned, and they
agreed to accompany me as far as the Maium Pass (on the road to Lhassa),
which we reckoned to be some fifteen or eighteen marches. They further
agreed to endeavour 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, and when night came, aided by my luminous compass, 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, and we encountered much difficulty in our
journey forward owing to the slippery ground, alternated with the ever
troublesome loose _débris_ and shifting rocks. We could not see far
ahead, and 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 peculiarly luminous streak far, far down below--undoubtedly the
river.
I could not explain this luminosity of the water, which did not seem to
come from reflection of the light of stars or the moon, because the sky
was very cloudy at the time. Moreover, the river had a curious greenish
tint quite peculiar to itself, and closely resembling the light produced
by an electric spark. In the more dangerous spots we had to proceed for
long distances on all-fours, and even then we felt hardly safe, for we
could hear the rattling of the stones rolling down the steep slope, and
by this sound we could judge that we were proceeding over a precipice of
extraordinary height. So difficult and painful was the walking, that it
took us four hours to go about three miles; and we felt so exhausted,
that from time to time we had to lie down and rest, shivering with cold,
and our hands bleeding from cuts caused by the sharp stones. I mustered
my men. Poor Mansing the leper was missing. When we last saw 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.
The faithful Chanden Sing and the Shoka Dola were then despatched, as I
would not abandon the poor wretch if by any means he could be saved.
After another hour of anxiety, the two returned, bringing the unfortunate
coolie with them. The poor fellow's hands and feet were badly cut, and
the pain in the latter was so great that he could not stand erect. He had
fallen fainting from exhaustion, and it was by a mere stroke of luck that
in the darkness Chanden Sing stumbled against his senseless body. Apart
from his life, his loss would have been a very serious matter for me, as
he carried my bedding and photographic cameras.
Sleet and rain commenced to fall, and 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, and were sheltered from the
piercing wind which had been hitherto driving the sleet hard into our
faces. We slowly covered some three miles more, and during that time the
storm passed away, leaving the atmosphere beautifully clear. When we
reached the pass (over 17,000 feet), 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 the first thing that struck me was that something had gone
wrong with my vision, but my companions saw the same phenomenon: another
curious thing was that the stars nearer the horizon disappeared and
reappeared 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 these, however, were very much more rapid,
especially at certain moments, when the star itself could no more be
discerned, and a continuous line of light appeared on the deep blue
background of the sky. This strange optical illusion, which began soon
after the storm had entirely cleared away, lasted some time; then the
vibrations gradually became less violent, and stars and planets
eventually resumed their normal steadiness, and shone with great
brilliancy and beauty. We crossed the pass, and halted directly on the
northern side of it, for my men's feet were in such a condition that they
could bear the pain no longer. The minimum temperature was but 12°, and
as we had no tent there was only a blanket between us and heaven. When we
woke in the morning, we found the thermometer had risen to 30°, but we
were enveloped in a thick mist which chilled us to our very marrow. I had
icicles hanging down my moustache, eyelashes and hair, and my cheeks and
nose were covered with a thin layer of ice caused by the respiration
settling and congealing on my face.