Another Tibetan encampment--Uncontrollable animals--A big
stream--Washed away--In dreadful suspense--Rescuing the
yak--Diving at great altitudes and its effects--How my two
followers got across--A precarious outlook and a little comfort.
[Illustration: CONTRIVANCE FOR CARRYING LOADS]
APPARENTLY my yaks knew this part of the country well; and I noticed
that, whenever I lost the track, all I had to do was to follow them, and
they would bring me back to it again. Even when I drove them away from
the track, they showed a great disinclination to move, whereas they
proceeded willingly enough while we were on the high road, which, mark
you, is no road at all, for no track is visible except here and there,
where the footprints of the last nomads with their sheep, ponies and yaks
have destroyed the grass.
Half a mile on the other side of the river was an encampment of some
fifty or sixty tents, with hundreds of yaks and sheep grazing near it.
At this point my two yaks, which I noticed had been marching with more
than usual smartness, bolted while I was ordering Chanden Sing and
Mansing to take down the loads, and went straight into the water.
In attempting to make them turn back, Mansing threw a stone at them,
which, however, only sent them on all the faster. The current was so
strong, and the bottom of the river so soft, that they both sank, and
when they reappeared on the surface it was only to float rapidly away
down stream. We watched them with ever-increasing anxiety, for they
seemed quite helpless. We ran panting along the river bank, urging them
on with shouts to drive them to the other side. Alas, in their desperate
struggle to keep afloat, and powerless against the current, the two yaks
collided violently in mid-stream, and the bump caused the pack-saddle and
loads of the smaller yak to turn over. The animal, thus overbalanced and
hampered, sank and reappeared two or three times, struggling for air and
life. It was, indeed, a terrible moment. I threw off my clothes and
jumped into the water. I swam fast to the animal, and, with no small
exertion, pulled him on shore, some two hundred yards farther down the
stream. We were both safe, though breathless, but, alas! the ropes that
held the baggage had given way, and saddle and loads had disappeared.
This loss was a dreadful blow to us. I tried hard, by repeatedly diving
into the river, until I was almost frozen, to recover my goods, but
failed to find them or even to locate them. Where I suspected them to be
the water was over twenty feet deep, and the bottom of the river was of
soft mud; so that the weight of the loads would have caused them to sink
and be covered over with it.
[Illustration: RESCUING A YAK]
Diving at such very great elevations gave one a peculiar and unpleasant
sensation. The moment I was entirely under water, I felt as if I were
compressed under an appalling weight which seemed to crush me. Had the
liquid above and around me been a mass of lead instead of water, it
could not have felt heavier. The sensation was especially noticeable in
my head, which felt as if my skull were being screwed into a vice. The
beating at my temples was so strong that, though in ordinary
circumstances I can remain under water for over a minute, I could there
never bold out for longer than fifteen or twenty seconds. Each time that
I emerged from below, gasping for air, my heart beat alarmingly hard, and
my lungs seemed as if about to burst.
I was so exhausted that I did not feel equal to conveying across my two
men, so I unloaded the stronger yak, and then, with endless fatigue, I
drove him and his mate again into the water. Unhampered, and good
swimmers as they are, they floated away with the current and reached the
other side. Chanden Sing and Mansing, with their clothes and mine tied
into a bundle over their shoulders, got on the animals and, after a
somewhat anxious passage, they arrived safely on my side, where we
camped, my men mourning all night over the lost property. The next
morning I made fresh attempts to recover the loads, but in vain!
Unhappily they contained all my tinned provisions, and what little other
food I had, and they had in them besides eight hundred rupees in silver,
the greater part of my ammunition, changes of clothing and three pairs of
shoes, my copper hurricane lantern, and sundry knives and razors.
The only thing we recovered was the pack-saddle, which was washed ashore
some six hundred yards farther down. Our situation can be summed up in a
few words. We were now in the centre of Tibet, with no food of any kind,
no clothes to speak of, and no boots or shoes, except those we wore,
which were falling to pieces. What little ammunition I had left could not
be relied upon, owing to its having been in the water on several
occasions; and round us we had nothing but enemies--insignificant enemies
if you like, yet enemies for all that.
I got what comfort I could out of the knowledge that at least the
water-tight cases with my scientific instruments, notes, sketches and
maps were saved, and as far as I was concerned, I valued them more than
anything else I possessed.