PONSEE CAMP.
Desertion of the muleteers--Our encampment--Visit of hill
chiefs--Sala’s demands--A mountain excursion--Messengers
from Momien--Shans refuse presents--Stoppage of
supplies--Ill-feeling--Tsawbwa of Seray--St. Patrick’s Day--Retreat
of Sala--The pawmines of Ponsee--A burial-ground--Visit to the
Tapeng--The silver mines--Approach of the rains--Hostility of
Ponsee--Threatened attack--Reconciliation--A false start--Letters from
Momien--A hailstorm--Circular to the members of the mission--Beads and
belles--Friendly relations with Kakhyens--Their importance.
On the first night of our sojourn at Ponsee, we were roused from our
beds in the open air by a violent thunderstorm, which threatened a
drenching, but fortunately let us off with only a few heavy drops. One
of the party drew his bed under a small thatched shed close by, and
slept soundly, to awake in the morning and find that he had shared
his shelter with a deceased Kakhyen, on whose grave he had been
reposing. At an early hour, Sala came to inform Sladen that a small
army of Shans and Kakhyens had collected to oppose our progress, but
that two thousand rupees might purchase their goodwill. When informed
that the disposable funds would not admit of such costly travelling,
he significantly remarked that the Panthays were rich, and would be
glad to assist us. This obstacle might be imaginary, but a most real
difficulty left us no time to reflect on it, for instead of preparing
for a start, the muleteers, without a word of complaint, or indeed
any communication with us, proceeded to unpack their loads, flinging
all the baggage on the ground. I went to look after my boxes, but was
warned off by a Kakhyen, who flourished his dah, and worked himself up
into such a fury that retreat appeared the wisest course. In a short
time the mules and drivers marched away, taking the road to Manwyne,
leaving us and our baggage destitute of any means of transit. A few
beasts remained, belonging to Ponline, but too few to be taken into
account. Here was an unexpected dilemma, such as would have delighted
Sir Samuel Baker, who says he “finds pleasure in a downright fix.”
Sladen set off to find out, if possible, the meaning of it all from
Sala, who was seated comfortably drunk in the chief’s house. He
declared that the muleteers had been influenced by messages from the
Shan tsawbwas of Sanda and Muangla, threatening them with death if they
brought us on. He advised threats of exclusion of the Shans from the
Burmese fairs by way of reprisals, but Sladen indignantly told him that
he came to promote peace, and not dissension, and that he would write
conciliatory letters, explaining the object of the expedition to those
chiefs who had been misled. Thereupon Sala grew confidential, and
let out what certainly seemed the truth, _in vino veritas_, about our
missing interpreter Moung Shuay Yah, who had been last seen or heard of
at Ponline. It appeared that this half Chinese scoundrel had finally
endeavoured to persuade Sala, and on his refusal the Talone tsawbwa, to
murder Sladen and plunder the cash-chest. Thwarted in his villainous
projects, he had returned to Bhamô, of which latter fact confirmation
was afforded a few days later. Matters looked unpromising; it was
whispered that the muleteers had become aware that our detention at
Ponsee was certain, and were unwilling to hazard a delay, the profits
of which would go into the greedy pockets of the Ponline chief. Besides
the dark aspect of affairs, the natural atmosphere was overcast, heavy
clouds presaging storm, and to be prepared against all consequences,
we removed our quarters to the plateau vacated by the muleteers, where
the three sepoy palls, or small tents, accommodated the Europeans,
while the sepoys and followers set to work to construct bamboo tents,
thatched with leaves and grass for their protection, and speedily a
regular camp was established in a favourable position. Sala showed
himself in a new light, later on in the day, when he came down very
drunk, and dressed in a yellow silk cloth which he had stolen from
Sladen’s servant. He was at first inconveniently affectionate, and,
seizing Sladen by both hands, vowed eternal friendship; he then grew
inquisitive about our rifles and revolvers, and required Sladen to
show his marksmanship by splitting a bamboo forty yards off. A refusal
to gratify him changed him at once into a violent savage, pouring out
a flood of the foulest abuse in Burmese. With tact and patience, he
was restrained from violence, but the real treacherous nature of the
animal had shown itself unmistakably. He finally assured Sladen that
he might make up his mind not to quit Ponsee until he had paid two
bushels of rupees. More agreeable visitors arrived, in the persons
of the Kakhyen chiefs of Nyoungen, Wacheoon, and Ponwah, small hill
districts on the road to Manwyne. These tsawbwas all brought presents
of fowls and rice, for which they received cloth as a return. The chief
of Ponwah was a wiry little highlander, with oblique eyes, and strongly
marked features of a Tartar type, adorned with two scanty tufts by way
of moustache, and a sparse beard carefully restricted to the front of
his chin. His dress was different from that of the other tsawbwas, and
argued a higher social condition. It consisted of a blue turban, blue
padded woollen jacket, a kilt of the same material and colour, with a
red and blue border, finished off with richly embroidered leggings,
and short blue woollen hose with thick soles. A leopard’s fang adorned
his dah, and a cloth bag contained his metal pipe and bamboo flask of
samshu, which frequently found its way to his thirsty lips; before each
draught he dipped his finger into the liquor, and poured a few drops on
the ground as a libation to the earth nats. The mother of the young
Ponsee tsawbwa also came down, attended by a number of girls, bringing
_sheroo_, or beer, cooked rice, eggs, and vegetables. Beads were
distributed, but they begged for rupees; and a few four-anna pieces
hardly contented them. One of us gallantly presented an importunate
damsel with a pretty little bottle of perfume, and to make her
appreciate it, poured a little on her hand, and signed to her to rub it
on her face, but having done so, she evinced her disgust by wry faces,
spitting at and abusing the donor, as though he had insulted her, to
his extreme confusion.
[Illustration: OUR CAMP AT PONSEE.]
The day of anxiety was followed by a night of rain and storm. Heavy
gusts of wind, sweeping down the lofty shoulder of the mountain,
threatened to carry away the light tents, and it required all our
efforts to prevent this catastrophe by holding stoutly on to the
tent poles. The interior was of course inundated, and beds and
bedding saturated with water, but some of the followers were worse
off, having no shelter of any sort. Our troubles, however, were only
beginning. The Nanlyaw tamone,[21] who had been ordered to accompany
us as interpreter, and had failed to do so, arrived with orders from
the Woon of Bhamô to the tsawbwas of Ponsee and Ponline to repair at
once to Bhamô, and assist in an inquiry about reopening the silver
mines. The message and the messenger were both suspicious, and some
obstructive influence speedily showed itself. A demand was set up for
three hundred rupees, compensation for five houses said to have been
destroyed by a jungle fire, originating in the embers of our camp-fire
at Lakong. Sala evidently thought that any demands would be complied
with to prevent his deserting us, and talked much about the imperative
orders of the governor. By way of relief from the discussion, we made
an excursion up the mountain to a height about six hundred feet above
our camp, whence a splendid panorama unrolled itself of the Burmese
plain as far as Bhamô, and the junction of the Tapeng with the majestic
Irawady. We passed numerous oaks, and a grove of trees bearing nuts
exactly like our own hazels. At the highest point reached, a Kakhyen
village was found, snugly nestled in a beautifully cool hollow, with a
small stream flowing down the hillside.
Our appearance startled three women, proceeding to fill the bamboos,
which serve as water pitchers, carried in a wicker basket at the back;
they darted into a hollow below the road, and, turning their backs to
us, waited till we had passed by. A thousand feet below us, a deep
ravine resounded with the cry of hoolock monkeys, howling at the full
pitch of their voices. Shooting, either for sport or purposes of
science, was rendered extremely difficult by the dense jungle and the
steep sides of the deep gorges, where the birds are mostly found, for
a bird, when shot, dropped down a steep declivity, into long grass or
tangled shrub, where search was useless.
On our return, a cock and hen partridge, of a new species, belonging
to the genus Bambusicola, were shot in the cleared ground, and in
the woods the cry of an oriole was often heard, but the birds were
invisible. Descending by another route, passing the rice clearings,
where wild strawberries carpeted the ground with flowers and fruit,
and two sorts of violets and various brambles were also in flower, we
reached the camp, and were soon plunged again into debate with Sala.
The fellow was sulky and angry, demanding six hundred rupees blackmail,
and three hundred as compensation for the village fire, threatening
as an alternative to leave us to “be lost in the hills and never more
heard of.” Sladen temperately refused to submit to such extortionate
demands, but, to prove his friendly intentions, offered to compensate
for any actual damage, and to send presents to the chiefs _en route_.
His arguments had such an effect on Sala that he was content to ask for
one hundred rupees to settle the “fire.”
At this stage of the interview all were surprised by the sudden
appearance on the scene of three strangers, dressed in gorgeous Chinese
costume, and attended by half a dozen others; two of their faces were
familiar, and they saluted Sladen with an air of recognition, but Sala
and he were at first equally puzzled as to their identity. The two
foremost were arrayed in blue satin skull-caps embroidered with gold,
padded and embroidered jackets of fine blue cloth, and wide trousers
of yellow silk. They wore new broad cane hats and gold embroidered
Chinese shoes. The hilts of their dahs were each enriched with half
the lower jaw of a leopard, and suspended from their button-holes was
a decoration consisting of a pink and blue square of cloth, with a
cipher embroidered in the corner. This was full dress Panthay uniform,
which one of them proceeded to divest himself of, and exhibited his
ragged Kakhyen garb underneath, and then Sladen recognised Lawloo,
the scout despatched by him from Bhamô to the governor of Momien.
He produced, carefully rolled up, a packet addressed in Arabic on a
strip of red paper, which contained an envelope stamped with Chinese
hieroglyphics in red, and a letter written in Arabic, and stamped with
Chinese devices in red and blue; attached to this was another letter in
Chinese. The latter no one could read, and a combined attempt made by
the native doctor and the jemadar to decipher the former also failed,
but Lawloo assured us that the governor of Momien was most friendly.
He had received the messengers with all respect, and had equipped them
in the gorgeous dresses which had disguised them from our recognition.
He had also sent with them Shatoodoo, an officer in the Mahommedan
service, a tall, fair-skinned, well-built man, dressed in blue
uniform, with a fine intelligent face and the quiet self-possession
of a well-bred gentleman. Our couriers, men belonging to the Cowlie
tribe, bore their new honours with great composure; they completely
ignored the presence of the Ponline tsawbwa, while they told of
their kindly reception, and explained the purport of the letters. The
governor had expected us by the “ambassadors’” route, which leads from
Bhamô into Hotha, where he had arranged to meet us. They said we were
not to advance at present via Manwyne, unless we were strong enough
to fight our way past Mawphoo fort, the stronghold of Li-sieh-tai.
The messengers, on their return, though conspicuous by their Panthay
uniform, had travelled openly and unmolested through the Shan states,
which had been declared to be hostile to our advance. The immediate
effect was to cause Sala and the pawmines to withdraw from our tents,
which was a great relief, as they had infested them, squatting on the
beds for hours together, smoking, and chewing tobacco and betel, while
any remonstrance was at once replied to with an angry scowl and a
flourish of the naked dah. But the peace did not last long. The tsawbwa
soon recommenced his demands, and day after day the fire question was
discussed, and terms of settlement agreed upon, only to be insolently
repudiated on the first occasion.
The next day more practical preparations for opening the route were
made by the despatch of letters and presents to the Kakhyen chief of
Seray, and to the Shan chiefs or headmen of Manwyne and Manhleo. Two
of the Ponline pawmines and the interpreter Moung Mo, the tamone of
Hentha village, whose services and goodwill we had secured, went in
charge of the presents, and Sladen’s Burmese writer was also sent,
by way of check on the pawmines. They returned in a few days with the
presents, which the chiefs had declined to accept, as the tsawbwa of
Sanda had refused his consent to our passage, and the Manwyne people,
though favourably disposed, were afraid of the _poogain_, or headman,
of Manhleo, a town situated on the south bank of the Tapeng, opposite
Manwyne. This official was an inveterate enemy of the Panthays,
and a few years before had massacred a Panthay caravan of peaceful
merchants. The character and intentions of the expedition had been so
misrepresented by the Chinese traders at Bhamô that the Shans were
naturally indisposed to run any risks from our presence among them.
The refusal of the presents caused Sala to raise his demands; “all
the people, Burmese, Chinese, and Shans,” he declared, were leagued
against us, and if we did not secure his protection, we should have our
heads cut off. This was his usual argument, illustrated by holding an
imaginary head with his left hand, and making the motion of sawing at
the supposed neck with his right.
A more practical result of the secret opposition was the stoppage of
supplies. Soon after our arrival the Shans from the Manwyne district
had discovered that there was a sure market for their provisions, and
a regular bazaar had been established in our lines. Kakhyen villagers
as well as Shans brought in fowls, rice, salt, vegetables, &c., and
competition had kept prices down; empty beer bottles were found to be
highly prized, and one bottle was worth twelve measures of rice. Among
other things, the Manwyne Shans brought in sugar candy, and preserved
milk in the form of thin cakes of paste like a film of coagulated
cream, which placed in a cup of water over night supplied a cup of
excellent milk in the morning. The method of preparation we could not
learn, but the result was undeniably successful. The attendance of
Shans, however, fell off, owing to the ill-usage received by many of
them from the Kakhyens, who helped themselves to their goods, and paid
them with abuse and blows. Hence supplies fell short, and prices rose
accordingly, and it became unsafe moreover to wander for any distance
from the camp. On one occasion one of us was tempted to indulge in a
bath in the small stream which flowed immediately below. There was
a most perfect douche, where the water leapt over a huge boulder,
embowered in gigantic bamboos and splendid ferns, as though contrived
for the secret bath of a Kakhyen sylvan nymph: but the unhappy European
invader was scarcely in full enjoyment of the refreshing douche than
he was saluted with a shower of stones and broken branches from some
villagers who had watched him. This was a ludicrous side of popular
hostility, but as the “fire” question continued to be discussed, almost
daily warnings were brought to us that ill-disposed Kakhyens were
collected on the heights above, intending to attack the camp under
cover of night.
A slight change in affairs was effected by the arrival of the tsawbwa
of Seray, a village four miles distant, who made his appearance on the
13th, attended by his pawmines and a numerous retinue. He was a rather
short stout man of about forty-five, dressed in blue from turban to
shoes; his manner was serious and respectful, and his remarks sensible,
but evincing great curiosity about all the novelties that presented
themselves. When he found leisure to discuss business matters, he
asked us the particulars of the fire question, saying that if it were
settled, he would undertake to guide us by a hill route to Momien, so
as to avoid the necessity of passing through Sanda. Sladen explained
to him that though the fire question had been settled three times,
he would now submit it finally to his arbitration, and the demand,
which had risen to five hundred rupees, was by his award satisfied by
a promise of two hundred and sixty. Notwithstanding this settlement,
that evening both the tsawbwas came down to request us to keep fires
burning, and maintain a careful watch all night, as over a hundred
men had collected on the hillside commanding the camp, intending to
try their chance in a night attack, according to their usual tactics.
Sala had endeavoured, he said, to dissuade them, and had finally told
them he would look on while they were shot down by our men. The night,
however, passed off more quietly than the days, which were occupied
in ceaseless discussions; the question of mule hire being again in
debate. Sala brought forward the preposterous demand of twenty rupees
a piece for one hundred and sixty mules, those, namely, whose owners
had deserted at this place. This demand was supported by fictitious
tallies, and his disgust at finding we had kept an accurate account
was great, while his fury at the laughter with which his attempts at
extortion were met found vent in the usual pantomimic prophecy of our
decapitation. The party of tsawbwas was increased by the arrival of the
chief of Wacheoon, who brought a present of rice and sheroo; the object
of his visit being to make the pertinent inquiry as to what still
detained us at Ponsee.
On St. Patrick’s Day, matters came to a crisis. All the morning the
tsawbwas and pawmines were assembled in our tent, arguing about the
mule hire; even the respectable chief of Seray had caught the infection
of covetousness, and demanded twenty rupees a mule for a journey of
a few hours. The Seray chief was attended by a Chinaman who had been
in his employment from his youth, and now acted as his chief trader.
He had interpreted the Momien letters, and seemed to desire to be
useful, but it was plain that he regarded the expedition as a military
one, designed to assist the Panthays. He declared that the Sanda
people were willing to receive us, but were restrained by fear of
Li-sieh-tai. Sladen offered five hundred rupees, in addition to the
money already paid, for sufficient carriage to Manwyne, where he would
await the answer to his letters despatched the day before by the former
messengers to Momien and to the tsawbwa of Sanda, as he was determined
not to advance without the full consent of all the Shan chiefs. He
then, by a happy thought, recounted to the assembled tsawbwas the sums
of money and presents that the arch robber Sala had received from him
for distribution. At this startling revelation, the chief of Ponsee was
evidently exasperated, and a storm was brewing, when suddenly a shot
was fired from a house on the hill above us, and a bullet, or slug,
whizzed over the tent in which we were sitting, and presently another
struck the head of a camp cot inside. All were naturally startled, but
no one believed the first shot to have been intentionally aimed until
the second was fired after the lapse of a few minutes. Sala and the
pawmines sprang out, and vociferated frantically to the people in the
village above. The chief of Seray sat silent, and presently announced
that he should return to his own home, and the meeting was forthwith
dissolved.
True to his word, the Seray chief departed the next day, leaving the
message that he would return as soon as we were rid of Ponline; and the
next news was that the Ponsee chief had threatened Sala with instant
vengeance, and that our friend and protector had decamped to his own
village, taking with him all the presents entrusted to him for the
officials of Manwyne, &c., and forcibly carrying off our Burmese
interpreter Moung Mo.
The tsawbwa and pawmines of Ponsee, who now came to the front, as
self-appointed arbiters of our destinies, so far as progress was
concerned, have not yet been introduced.
The tsawbwa was a youth of eighteen, who possessed no influence. What
natural intelligence he might possess was obscured by his habits of
continual intoxication and debauchery, in company with a number of
“fast” young Kakhyens. He had hitherto preserved a sort of sullen
neutrality, occasionally, however, conveying to us useful warnings,
but acting neither for nor against us. The real power seemed to be
exercised by his pawmines, four brothers who had generally shown
themselves friendly. The eldest was a good-for-nothing merry-andrew,
in a chronic state of intoxication. The next in age was a quiet,
sensible man, who seemed fully to appreciate the advantages that would
accrue to his people from the reopening of the trade between Yunnan
and Burma, and he frequently declared that he was ready to give us all
the help in his power. He was nicknamed by us the “Red Pawmine;” and
his next brother and constant companion, a little spare man, with high
cheek-bones, deeply sunken eyes, and features sharpened and worn by
bad health, was appropriately styled “Death’s Head.” He was by far the
ablest, but his quick, nervous temperament and violent temper rendered
him a difficult man to deal with. The youngest, as excitable, but far
less intelligent, was regarded with jealous eyes by his three elder
brothers.
The young tsawbwa for about a week subsequent to Sala’s departure
professed himself our friend, and a few days of tranquil and almost
patient expectation ensued, during which we endeavoured to extend our
acquaintance with the hill country about us, of which we had as yet
been able to see no more than the outskirts of our camp or rather
prison.
Accordingly, Stewart and I started on our ponies to ascend the
mountain, taking Deen Mahomed as interpreter and a native boy to act
as guide. No sooner had the party passed the tsawbwa’s house than a
hue and cry was raised by one of the pawmines, who shouted orders to
the lad to return at once. Disregarding the outcry, we pushed on along
a narrow bridle-path, but were delayed by the obstinacy of a pony who
declined to face a difficult bit of road, and the villagers overtaking
us, the guide was dragged away by the pawmine. The tsawbwa was appealed
to, but he declared that it was not safe to go up, as there was a
village of “bad Kakhyens” on the mountain, and Deen Mahomed was warned
with gesture symbolical of throat-cutting of what would happen to him
if he got another guide. We consoled ourselves for this failure by a
visit to a burial-ground, on the top of a thickly wooded height, which
lay to the east of the camp. The path leading to it was sprinkled at
intervals with ground rice, as an offering to the nats, and on two of
the graves, which were quite recent, lay a little tobacco and a small
cylindrical box containing chillies, while outside the surrounding
trench the skull of a pig, with some more tobacco, had been placed. The
conical roof of bamboos and grass was decorated with a finial of wood
cut into two flag-like arms, painted with rosettes in black and red,
which ridiculously resembled guide-posts.
The tsawbwa proved more obliging a day or two afterwards, when a
request was sent to him for a guide to conduct us to the Tapeng
river. The path led along the saddle of the long spurs running down
to the valley, and the climate as we descended changed from temperate
to tropical; the upper forest consisted of oaks, cherry, apple, and
peach trees, especially in a magnificently wooded glen, while a large
mountain stream made its way over a rocky channel, forming at one
place a splendid waterfall over a perpendicular cliff of gneiss. Along
the tops of the fruit trees a large troop of monkeys _(Presbytis
albocinereus_) were leisurely wandering.
In descending we could only keep our footing by clutching at the
overhanging branches, as our feet slipped on the fallen leaves and
bamboo spathes which lay heaped in the steep and narrow path. The
roots which projected every now and then were another and even worse
impediment. Where, as often happened, the path turned a sharp angle on
the crests of the precipitous spurs, great caution was needful, for if
one had lost his equilibrium in such a place, he would have certainly
sent all in front of him down the almost perpendicular declivity. As
the lower level was reached, the trees became essentially tropical,
intermixed with musæ, bamboos, ratans, and splendid ferns, while huge
cable-like creepers intertwined their leafy cordage, and orchids of
various and novel species displayed their fantastic beauties, and
loaded the air with perfume.
After a long scramble down, we climbed over a secondary spur, and at
its foot reached a sandy strand shaded by a magnificent banyan covered
with the fragrant blossoms of a large yellow orchid (_Dendrobium
andersoni_, Scott). Before us the roaring Tapeng rushed in a torrent
forty yards wide, over a rocky bed, in a succession of foaming rapids
and deep smooth reaches. At this point its bed was about thirteen
to fourteen hundred feet above the plains at Tsitkaw, twenty miles
distant, so that its descent is nearly seventy feet in the mile, the
water mark indicating the highest rise of the flood to be twelve feet
above its present level.
The only birds visible were two water wagtails flitting from boulder
to boulder in the middle of the torrent. The rocks in position were
gneiss, with veins and large embedded oblong pieces of quartzite; the
quartz often standing out in bold relief where the gneiss surface had
been worn away by the action of the water. Huge boulders of the same
rock and pure white crystalline marble were strewn along the river
bed. Along the bank a footpath led to a spot where a raft lay ready,
in the deep smooth water above a rapid, to ferry over passengers to
the silver mines. The raft was attached by a loop to a bark rope,
stretched across the river. Our guide expressed his readiness “for a
consideration” to conduct us across, but not “that day;” so we made
our way back again, and if the descent had been difficult, it may be
imagined how much more so was the return journey, which, however, was
safely accomplished.
A few days after this trip, we started, accompanied by two of the
Ponsee pawmines, for a visit to the silver mines. We reached the river
by the next spur, to the west of the path followed on the former
excursion, and, leaving the servants to prepare breakfast under the
banyan tree, made for the raft. The guide rope was fastened to a fallen
tree, six feet above the river on the opposite bank, while on our side
it was carried over forked branches, firmly fixed in the ground and
secured to a huge boulder. The raft proved to be on the other side,
and one of the Burmese followers caught hold of the rope, and hand
over hand succeeded in making his way across the strong current. He
was followed by one of the pawmines, who evinced a careful dexterity
which argued him to be well accustomed to what seemed a dangerous task.
The raft was then brought across, one man in front running the loop
along the rope, and the other sitting behind with a paddle to keep it
stemming the stream. It was a simple wedge-shaped platform of bamboos
lashed together, presenting a sort of prow which is kept against the
rush of the stream. Bamboos at each side supported seats of split
bamboo, and when the raft, which carried six persons, was loaded, the
“deck” was a couple of inches under water.
Arrived at the other side, we were struck by the prevalence of white
marble, and the extraordinary contorted folds of an abrupt cliff of
blue crystalline quartzite rock, about fifty feet high, overlooking
the ferry. A narrow footpath to the north-east of this cliff led to a
ridge of pure white crystalline marble, of the same structure as the
marble of the Tsagain hills. The ridge, which was destitute of trees,
was about six hundred feet above the level of the river, running almost
parallel with its course for about a mile. A small watercourse dividing
the ridge from a rounded hill covered with waterworn boulders of the
quartzite rock marked the limits of the marble, which terminated so
abruptly as to be at once noticeable, and the pawmine said there was no
silver beyond this limit. We walked along the almost level top of the
treeless ridge, and found at the eastern side a pleasant valley, where
the cultivated terraces showed signs of the neighbourhood of a village,
and a Bauhinia in full bloom of white flowers with violet centre
occurred in great profusion.
The mines consisted of a series of galleries about four feet in
diameter, run horizontally into the slope of the ridge facing the
river. Our conductors led us along the steep hillside, strewn with
large masses of iron pyrites, and overgrown with grass and low jungle,
so thick that each man had to cut his way with a dah. We passed about
thirty of these adits, which penetrated the hillside for two or three
hundred feet, sloping slightly downwards, and with passages opening at
right angles. I crawled into one of them, preceded by a guide with a
lantern, and made my way for a considerable distance along the tunnel,
the sides of which showed red earth mixed with masses of marble and
quartzite, but my progress was stopped by finding the passage blocked
by the fallen roof, the bamboo props used when the mine was worked
having given way. No detailed information regarding the productiveness
of these mines could be obtained, and since the outbreak of the civil
war in Yunnan they had not been worked, save to a very small and
intermittent extent by the Kakhyens. The heaps of slag in the glen
near the small watercourses, where all smelting operations had been
conducted, showed that a very considerable quantity of ore used to be
raised. Specimens of the ore assayed by Professor Oldham have been
found to contain 0·191 per cent. of silver in the galena. The mines are
of easy access, and from their close proximity to the borders of China,
little or no difficulty would be experienced in finding labourers to
work them. Silver is also said to be found on the right bank of the
river, at a great elevation on the hillsides to the west of Ponsee;
and gold is asserted to occur near the same locality, and specimens
were shown to me at Bhamô in grains some of which were as large as
small peas.
From the mines we returned across the river, and breakfasted on the
bank of the Tapeng, treating our Kakhyen companions to some of the
eatables, their approval of which was indicated by jerking their fists
with the thumb extended, which emphatically signifies that anything is
very good. The forefinger is held straight to indicate that a man is
good, and crooked to denote one who is not to be trusted.
So we returned to Ponsee, where we must again take up the tangled
thread of events bearing on our progress. A month had passed since our
arrival, and the advance of the season was marked by the call of the
cuckoo, which was often heard in the eastern woods. The jungle had
all been felled in the new clearings, and nightly fires illuminated
the opposite hills, caused by the burning of the jungle over acres of
ground. Heavy thunder showers almost every night did not add to our
comfort, and heralded the speedy setting in of the south-west monsoon.
But we were apparently as far off from any extrication from our
detention as ever.
The Seray tsawbwa had on March 22nd returned with news that a Panthay
official had arrived at Sanda, and that the country so far was open. He
also produced a letter addressed to himself by the governor of Momien,
requesting him to give us all the help in his power, and promising to
reimburse any expense he might be put to in our service. The chief
seemed fully disposed to help, and started for his own village to
procure mules, with which he promised to return in two days, leaving
his Chinese clerk to help us as an interpreter.
This was pleasant, and the improved temper of the people was shown
by the arrival of messengers from the widow of a tsawbwa ruling a
district on the road to Manwyne, with a present of fowls, eggs, and an
uninviting compound of flour and chillies; accompanied by a message
that she and her people would come and escort us to Manwyne. The
dowager of the late chief of that town also sent Sladen the gift of
two Kakhyen bags, and a curious implement forming a toothbrush and
tongue-scraper combined.
The Seray chief, however, did not show according to promise, and a week
after his departure news came that two Chinamen had arrived from Bhamô,
with a party of fifty armed Burmese. These men gave out that they had
been sent to recommence mining operations at the silver mines. The
immediate result was that the Seray chief, first by a messenger, and
then in person, repudiated his engagement to procure mules, alleging
that the Ponsee chief had threatened to kill him if he assisted us to
quit the Ponsee territory. Argument and expostulation were useless,
and he nodded assent when Sladen attributed his change of purpose to
private instructions received from Bhamô. He departed, after warning
us to be on our guard against the Ponsee chief, who had resolved to
attack the camp.
The hostility of the Ponsee chief was soon shown, for the day after
the arrival of the Burmese his Kakhyens drove off all the Shans from
our little bazaar; the chief himself came down with his dah drawn, and
cut down one of the traders, which act of violence made him liable to
pay an indemnity to the Manwyne people. His pawmines came next with
the intelligence that he had summoned two neighbouring tsawbwas to
his assistance, that two buffaloes had been slaughtered, and a grand
sacrificial feast was to be held that night, after which the nats
would be consulted as to our fate, when, if the oracle commended it,
the Kakhyens, drunk with sheroo and samshu, would attack the camp. One
of the buffaloes had been supplied by the Burmese, and the symbolic
present of a pound of flesh, the acceptance of which signified consent,
had been offered to and accepted by the _tsare-daw-gyee_, or Burmese
royal secretary, in charge of the party. The pound of flesh had been
also sent to the pawmines, but rejected by them, and they loudly
denounced their chief as an uncontrollable madman.
A wholesome fear of the European strangers had gradually grown up; they
were believed to possess supernatural powers. Breech-loading rifles
and revolvers, and “Bryant and May’s matches,” which ignited only on
the box, and defied wind and rain, argued a close alliance with the
nats of the elements; while the photographic apparatus appeared in
Kakhyen eyes to be the instruments of conjurers, who could control the
sun himself. Hence but few of the Kakhyens would join the chief, whom
they considered bent on his own destruction. While the conspirators
were revelling and consulting, our police escort was drawn out and
exercised, and the ominous sound of three volleys from fifty guns,
which to their universal astonishment and awe all went off at once,
terrified them, and gave a significant hint that assailants would meet
a warm reception. The pawmines prayed that they and their houses might
be spared in the general destruction that must overtake our enemies,
and the news soon reached us that the meetway, who was secretly in our
pay, had announced that the nats disapproved of the conspiracy.
The pawmines then requested permission to introduce the two hostile
tsawbwas, who accordingly arrived; their naturally villainous faces
were not improved by an expression of sheepish fear, but they lightened
up when Sladen received them kindly, and without upbraiding them
explained the advantages that would arise to all if our plans should
be carried out. A present of an empty biscuit tin and a beer bottle
quite won their hearts, and converted them into fast friends. The
pawmines then represented that the young chief, with whom, on his
repentance, they had made friends, desired to be forgiven and received
into favour. It was argued that he felt very sore at Ponline having
defrauded him of his rightful gains, and it was agreed that by way
of making up for all neglect he should receive one hundred rupees!
He swore eternal friendship, and vowed that henceforth we were his
relations. Sladen asked him why he had omitted his relations in the
late distribution of beef, at which he grinned, and went off awkwardly
enough, but still in good humour.
During the first few days of April, the situation was hopeful
and exciting, but the tsawbwa and his pawmines, though outwardly
reconciled, soon made it evident that their respective interests
clashed too much for united action. The chief volunteered to go and
procure mules, the pawmines offered to supply any number of coolies.
The amount to be paid on our arrival at Manwyne was fixed at five
hundred rupees, and this was eagerly coveted by the rivals; each
in turn denounced the other as entertaining designs of looting the
baggage, and the pawmines declared that the chief dared not show his
face in Manwyne on account of a private feud.
Sladen refused to accept the separate services of either the chief or
his subordinates, and this straightforward policy compelled a seeming
reconciliation. The Seray tsawbwa sent his pawmines with sixty men and
six mules, far too few for the baggage of the party; his men, however,
declared they could carry it all, and facetiously advised us to build
houses for permanent residence at Ponsee, as the latter chief would
never be able to procure mules.
An amusing interlude was afforded by the arrival of a half-caste,
professing to be one of the chief men of the _tsawbwa-gadaw_, or
dowager chieftainess, of Manwyne. He came in a breathless state of
excitement, and announced that he had succeeded in hiring two hundred
mules, but that the caravan had been detained by the Kakhyen chiefs
on the road, who had sent him to say that they would allow them to
pass for one hundred rupees, and as a pledge of their sincerity had
entrusted him with an amber chain worth that sum. The fellow must have
had a high opinion of our credulity, for the chain, when produced, was
valued at about eight annas, and he was summarily dismissed.
At last, terms were arranged; the pawmines were to supply coolies,
while the tsawbwa was to find carriage for forty mule-loads, and the
7th of April was appointed for the start. We were up with daylight,
tents were speedily struck, and baggage packed for the march. The
coolies soon assembled, and the area of our little camp was covered
with wild-looking Kakhyens armed to the teeth with matchlocks, spears,
and dahs, looking much more like a horde of banditti than peaceful
porters. Their demeanour was in keeping with their appearance, and
their dishonest purpose was evidenced by the bare-faced rivalry
displayed by the different parties in seizing upon the packages which
seemed most valuable, irrespective of size or weight. The precaution
had been taken of telling off the escort into parties, with strict
orders to prevent the exit of any baggage until all were in readiness
for a start. The crisis was brought on by Sladen’s japanned tin cases.
The youngest pawmine, who was first on the field, had appropriated
them for his coolies, but when his brother, “Death’s Head,” appeared,
very much excited, early as it was, with drink, he claimed them for
his men. On his brother’s refusal to give them up, he lost all command
over himself. After a violent outburst of passion, he made a dash at
the gold sword which the king had presented to Sladen, and snatched
it from the Burmese servant in charge. This attempt was frustrated by
Williams, who with a vigorous wrench rescued the sword from “Death’s
Head’s” grasp. Thus foiled, he attacked the Burmese clerk, who was
taking down the names of the coolies, and threatened to cut him down. A
general hubbub ensued, during which he rushed off to a camp fire, lit
his slow-match, and advanced priming his matchlock, till he was close
to Sladen, when he fired off his piece in the air. The consternation
which ensued reached its climax when an assistant surveyor in a foolish
panic fired his revolver. The Kakhyens showed that they had no relish
for a fight, and, throwing down their loads, bolted in all directions.
We of course remained quiet, while the tsawbwa showed more sense than
could have been expected, calling upon the Kakhyens not to fly, and
after a time order was restored. One of us followed “Death’s Head,”
who had sat down at the end of the camp to reload his gun, and by a
little persuasion got him to send his gun up to the village, and return
to his duties. The loads were all arranged, and the escort had been
so distributed that each set of coolies could be under surveillance,
with a chain of communication between the van and rear-guard, while
the coolies carrying the japanned tin cases were placed under the
immediate supervision of armed followers, so that they could not “bolt”
without creating an alarm. It was high noon before all was ready, and
then the tsawbwa and pawmines, perhaps disgusted with these salutary
precautions, announced that, as Manwyne could not be reached that day,
our departure must be postponed till the morrow. This was pleasant
after toiling six hours under a broiling sun, but we had nothing
to oppose to native caprice save patience, strongly tempered with
misgivings, which proved to be correct. The next morning no coolies
appeared, and the pawmines came down to say that they could not fulfil
their promise, as the tsawbwa had refused his co-operation. The chief
himself soon afterwards arrived to lay the onus of the failure on the
pawmines. A probable instigator of the whole scheme was the Nanlyaw
tamone, who, after a long absence, suddenly presented himself in our
camp, and whom Sladen, having had repeated proofs of his machinations,
at once arrested as a spy; but at the urgent intercession of his
friends, the pawmines, he was dismissed with a strong caution not to
show himself again in our vicinity.
At this juncture, when all hope of extrication from our Ponsee prison
seemed to have vanished, letters arrived from the governor of Momien,
informing Sladen that he was about to take the field in person, with a
strong force, to attack Li-sieh-tai, and drive him from his stronghold
of Mawphoo. The letters further recommended us not to attempt to
advance beyond Manwyne until advices should reach us of the defeat
of the Chinese partisan. A second letter was a circular addressed to
the Kakhyen chiefs, exhorting them to give all possible aid to the
expedition. This at once gave a vantage ground, from which to deal
with our highland friends, and it was improved by Sladen. Kakhyens,
Burmese, and Shans had alike conceived extravagant ideas of the value
of our baggage, and showed beyond doubt that the hope of getting
possession of all, or a part of it, was a strong motive of their action
or inaction. The leader therefore began to proclaim on all sides that
though we had cheerfully endured privations and delays, in the hope
of thoroughly conciliating the natives, they were not to imagine our
patience to be inexhaustible. If we should be compelled to abandon all
or any part of our baggage, it would be piled up and burned before
our departure; thus they would lose their expected plunder, and incur
the risk of future reprisals, or demands for compensation, and, above
all, certainly alienate those who sought to be their friends. To this
the chiefs replied in substance as follows: “Do not blame us for your
misfortunes; we have been always in doubt how to act, on account of the
many warnings we have received against aiding your progress. _Now_ we
know you. You have always been kind to us, and are a powerful people.”
Vexatious and harassing as had been our detention at Ponsee, it is
certain that it would have been before this period quite impossible
to proceed beyond Manwyne, and our residence among these semi-savage
tribes served to convert their first suspicions into confidence, and
to impress them with the value of our friendship. The uniform kindness
with which all just services were requited, as contrasted with the
treatment to which they had hitherto been subjected in their dealings
with other races, especially with the Burmese, gradually worked its
effect.
At this time letters were received through Burmese agency, from no less
a person than Moung Shuay Yah, who since his treacherous desertion
had never been heard of. Now all of a sudden his name was mentioned
_ad nauseam_ by the Burmese followers, and two Kakhyens arrived with
letters purporting to have been written at some halting-place in the
Shan country; but the bearers contradicted each other, and could not
tell when, or from whom, they had received the letters. Next day,
another letter was brought by one of the silver mining party, which, he
said, Moung Shuay Yah had given him fourteen days before, but which he
had _forgotten_ to deliver. The fact was the interpreter had started
for Momien, having heard of the change of our prospects, and our
probable advance to that city. As it was needful, if possible, to save
appearances, Moung Shuay Yah in his letter declared that he had been
obliged to fly to save his life from the anger of Sala. Fortunately
his place was by this time well supplied by Moung Mo, whom, it may be
remembered, Sala had carried off with him, but who had returned and
placed himself at Sladen’s disposal. He amply corroborated all that had
been before told us of the efforts of the Bhamô people to obstruct our
progress. Orders had been received from Mandalay, conveying the king’s
displeasure at our detention at Ponsee, and authorising Sala to take us
to Manwyne, but he had replied that after being induced by the Burmese
of Bhamô to compromise himself with us, he would have nothing further
to do with it.
It was supposed by our leader that the express object of stationing the
armed miners at Ponsee was to deter the Kakhyens from helping us. Moung
Mo, in addition, assured us that he had ascertained that Li-sieh-tai
had sworn to oppose any attempt on our part to penetrate the Shan
states, and he advised us on no account to proceed to Manwyne without
an intimation from the Panthays that the road was open. An important
circumstance occurred at this time in the arrival of messengers and a
Chinese interpreter from Momien. They brought no letters, but were
charged by the Tah-sa-kon[22] to make personal inquiries into the real
objects of the mission and our circumstances at Ponsee. It transpired
that letters from Bhamô had informed the governor that we represented
a powerful nation in alliance with the Chinese, and foes to the
Mahommedans all over the world, and that our real object was to destroy
the Panthay dominion in Yunnan.
Sladen thoroughly dispelled these suspicions, and sent away the envoys
completely satisfied as to the genuineness of our pacific intentions.
The probabilities of an advance were, however, still remote and
uncertain, and the wet season had fairly set in, marked by a constant
succession of thunder and heavy rains. Dense masses of mist rolled
up the valley like vast advancing curtains, shrouding the mountains
in their gigantic folds, and producing an artificial twilight, and
torrents of rain descended for three or four hours incessantly, soaking
the tents; our waterproof blankets alone saving the inmates from
complete saturation, but not from the utter discomfort of living in a
puddle.
One storm deserves accurate description. Up to 4 P.M. of April 12th,
the wind had been blowing in fitful cool gusts from the south-west,
but at that hour there was a sudden lull; distant thunder was heard
echoing among the mountains, and heavy black clouds came rolling up;
a few drops of rain gave, as it were, the signal for a discharge of
hailstones, or rather flakes of ice. The wind blew in violent gusts,
and thunder rumbled over head, but the flashes of lightning were very
faint. The hailstones were circular discs about the size of a shilling,
flat on one side, and convex on the other. A white nucleus two-eighths
of an inch in diameter, and in many cases with a prominent boss of
clear ice on the convex side, formed the centre of a pellucid zone
surrounded by an opaque one, in its turn encased in clear ice; the
inner margin of this external zone was filled with a dark substance,
resembling mud combined with delicate ice crystals; the whole disc
strongly resembling a glass eye; when fractured, the nucleus separated
itself as a small short column, flat at one end, and convex at the
other.
During the storm, which lasted for twenty minutes, the aneroid rose
from 26·62 to 26·65, and the attached thermometer registered 67°, the
maximum heat during the day having been 84°.
It was evident that the season was closed for purposes of engineering
survey and exploration, and this, combined with the reduced state
of the exchequer, induced the leader of the expedition to address a
circular to the members of the party, placing before them the facts,
and suggesting that it would be for the interests of the public service
that the numbers should be reduced in order to curtail the future
expense of transport. It was necessary in fact to lighten the ship, and
each was invited to consider how far he could assist in this needful
work. Sladen had determined to remain, _if necessary_, for some months,
until the opportunity should arrive to visit Momien, and at all hazards
personally communicate with the Panthays; but he felt that he ought to
place it in the power of the other members of the expedition to return,
especially as the work which some of them had been despatched to effect
could not be performed. This circular was sent round on the 17th, and
the news of the fall of Mawphoo and the utter defeat of Li-sieh-tai
reached us on the 18th of April, and was afterwards fully confirmed by
despatches from the Tah-sa-kon, announcing his victory and writing to
us to advance under the protection of all the chiefs _en route_. Our
friends the tsawbwa and his pawmines, who had been day by day “making
believe,” as children say, to discuss plans for procuring mules, were
evidently much influenced by this; but they could not help showing
their greed for rupees, and their continual demand was that three
hundred should be paid before starting.
It was only later on that we learned that all these Kakhyens,
especially Sala, had always been steady adherents of Li-sieh-tai, and
that his utter defeat made them thoroughly anxious to conciliate the
victorious Panthays.
The tsawbwa presented himself in a very penitent mood, and, confessing
all his past misconduct, averred his determination to give up drink and
debauchery and do his duty as a chief. Linking his fingers together
with an expressive shake, he vowed leal service to his English friends,
and then started off in company with his head pawmine on the road to
Manwyne, where he expected to meet the Seray chief, and arrange means
for our transport.
As if a new order of things had set in, our camp now was daily crowded
by Kakhyens, all in the highest good humour. The women of the village
came down _en masse_, bringing presents of fowls, eggs, sheroo, and
rice, but the fair ones had an eye to business; beads, looking-glasses,
bright new silver coins, and what they seemed most to prize, red
cloth, were in great demand. A brisk trade was driven in the various
ornaments, and they stripped off their bead necklaces and ratan girdles
and leggings with great glee, and even a bell-girdle, the distinctive
ornament of Kakhyen aristocracy, which hitherto even rupees had failed
to secure, was now acquired in return for red cloth; indeed, it seemed
quite possible to purchase a Kakhyen _belle_, ornaments, and all,
for a few yards of the much prized material; and they returned home
with great glee, shorn of their decorations, but rich in beads and
cloth. Some came to solicit medical aid; cases of severe ulcerations,
caused probably by their labour in the jungle, and aggravated by
dirt, being common. The gratitude evinced for the relief given was
touchingly shown by the presents, deposited with a fearful humility
that showed the donor’s belief in the intimate connection between
the doctor and the nats. Every day both chiefs and people from the
more distant villages flocked in, and none came empty-handed. Gifts
of rice, vegetables, tobacco, and sheroo, were brought not merely in
the hope of return presents, but evidently as signs of amity. There
could be no mistaking their feeling, that strangers who behaved with
kindness and justice were welcome. These poor hill people had hardly
ever known what it was to be treated with confidence; on either side,
Burmese and Chinese had wronged and oppressed them. Monsig. Bigandet
states that they had formerly been characterised by a genial kindliness
and ready hospitality to strangers, but that the cruel treatment they
experienced in Burmese towns, and the fraudulent evasion of payment for
their services, had rendered them suspicious, greedy, and treacherous.
It is not to be wondered at if the presence among them of strangers
of an unknown race, escorted by an armed force, should at first have
been regarded by them with fear and dislike, and it is with a modest
pride that we recall the kindly confidence in the strangers which had
sprung up towards the end of our long detention at Ponsee. The people
from the distant villages continually asked, “Why did you not come our
way? we should have then had some of the good things that you have
brought for the Ponsee people.” The camp was perpetually full; the men,
after curiously inspecting the many wonders that presented themselves,
chatted and smoked with our followers; and the women, old and young,
eagerly petitioned for small hand glasses, and black or green beads,
the latter being most valued, and straightway converted their prizes
into personal decorations. The young women formed in lines, each
clasping her neighbour in a coquettish embrace, their shyness had
vanished, they chatted and flirted freely, and did not even flinch from
being photographed.
The friendly intercourse with these visitors gave us most welcome
opportunities of inquiry into their customs, their national and social
life. There was no backwardness in answering any questions, and the
record of delays and difficulties may be well interrupted by a few
pages devoted to these mountaineers. Those of whom we saw the most were
all dwellers to the north of the Tapeng, but some of the visitors came
from the southern hills, and the general characteristics distinguish
both these and the clans visited by us on the return journey, who seem
to be more civilised than their northern congeners. It is right here
to acknowledge that the following account of this people has been
rendered fuller and more accurate by the use of some notes furnished
by Major Sladen from accounts given by natives, and by the use of
a valuable memoir on the territories written by the learned and
indefatigable missionary, Bishop Bigandet, whose warmest sympathies
have been called out for these poor mountaineers, of whom he said, “It
is of the utmost importance to know them, their character and habits,
and to be prepared to secure their good will, whenever the thought of
opening communications with Western China shall have been seriously
entertained.”
[Illustration: KAKHYEN MEN.]
[Illustration: KAKHYEN MATRONS.]
[21] _Tamone_, a Burmese headman of a village.
[22] _Tah-sa-kon_, a civil title equivalent to Commissioner or
Administrator.