7th February.--To-day a young soldier and an artist conclude that they
both had their fill of exercise yesterday.
We started at break of day and didn't get home till after sunset and
then had to dine at the old Fort and witness a Kachin Pwe in the
moonlight till the small hours.
I confess I was tired after the day's shoot, but so was Carter and he
was in the pink of condition, which consoled me. It was a memorable day
amongst my sporting days, because of the novelty of surroundings, not on
account of the bag of snipe.
We turned out before daybreak, which was neither novel nor pleasant; it
was cold and very uncomfortable getting from warm blankets into the
chilly morning in the draughty bungalow, and reminded me of the way we
are turned out in winter starts for Black Game, and woodcock in
Morven--being routed out half awake in the dark by a certain energetic
sportsman, hurricane lamp in hand.
I had to meet Carter at the Fort where we were to take canoes, and an
elephant, across the Irrawaddy to a jheel, five miles through jungle.
The sun came up splendidly, hot and yellow over China, and warmed me
comfortably as I drove to the Fort, and the mist off the plain rose and
became sunlit cumuli to lie for the rest of the day on the shoulders of
the Kachin Highlands.
Carter, I found in the midst of impedimenta; servants, Burmese, Kachins
and natives, lunch boxes, cartridges, guns and a Mauser rifle; for
though we were going for snipe the country we were to go through holds
all sorts of big game, though the chance of our seeing any was remote
as the jungle is dense and covers great areas.
[Illustration]
A quarter of a mile across the exposed sand of the river bed brought us
to the canoes in which we were to cross. Our elephant swam, or waded,
across higher up. We divided our party into two, and we crossed in the
dugouts. These are graceful long canoes, cut from a teak tree trunk,
with a fine smooth surface and with a suggestion about them of being
easy to roll over; bamboos lashed alongside steadied them, and allowed
our Kachin and Burman to walk along the side when poling. We made use of
a slack water on our side, and another behind a sandy reed-covered
island half-way across to make up our leeway. Silvery fish were jumping,
pursued by some larger fish, and C. and I laid plans to try harling for
them after the Shannon or Namsen fashion. On the far side we got all our
baggage made fast to the sides of the pad--a sort of mattress on the
elephant's back--as it knelt on the shore, and on the top of the pad we
stretched ourselves and held on to the ropes as the elephant heaved up.
Quite a string of men tailed out behind us over the sands with cartridge
bags, and gun cases on their shoulders. On the bank we found a Burman
guide at a little village beside a small white pagoda. There were
yellow-robed priests walking in the groves of trees and palms, and they
noticed us I daresay, but made no sign that to their way of thinking we
were doing harm to ourselves by going to kill snipe--the Phoungyi does
not judge.
We then entered the kaing grass of which we had seen so much from the
steamer and realised the difficulty of getting at game in this country.
For miles we rode along a narrow path and these reeds were high over our
heads, and as we sat we were about ten or eleven feet from the
ground![33] Tiger, gaur, deer, elephant and many other kinds of big game
were all in this jungly country which extends for miles, so getting a
shot at any of them is a good deal a matter of luck, or time. I expect
it was lucky that we did not see anything but the tracks of these
beasts, for I think my companion would have tried his small bore at
anything. We had a certain anxiety about Gaur, miscalled Bison, for our
steed had been badly gored by one--its hind quarters showed the
scars--and it was warranted to bolt when it winded them, in which event
we would probably have got left, as the reeds and branches would have
cleared us off the pad. For five miles we followed the lane in the
grass, and passed two Burmans, midway, carrying fruit; they dodged into
the reed stems and let us pass and laughingly admitted they were afraid.
Here and there we came to a place where we could see over the top of the
savannah for a mile or two and expected to spot deer or elephant in the
park-like scenery, till we remembered the depth of the grass.
[33] Col. Pollock says the grass of these savannahs runs from ten to
thirty feet high--"Wild Sports of Burmah and Assam."
The slow action of our steed made me think we were getting only slowly
over the ground, but I noticed the men behind had pretty hard walking to
keep up with us. After an hour or so, we turned off the path and trod
down a road for ourselves through the reeds, and came to jungle of trees
and undergrowth, with heavy foliaged creepers growing up the trees and
from branch to branch, and air roots hanging from aloft, straight as
bell ropes--up and down--into creeks, below undergrowth and out into the
open again; the elephant being judge of where the ground would bear us,
gingerly putting out its great tender feet, sinking deep into mud,
making us cling on to the back stays of the pad, then dragging its feet
out of the soft mud with a loud sucking sound, leaving great holes
slowly filling up with black water. When a tree stump came in our path
he would very deliberately crush it down with a rending sound, or if a
big branch barred our way, up came the great trunk and slowly folded
round it, and down it came with a crash, and was bent under foot.
Sometimes a branch was too thick and strong: then the mahout drew his
dah, gave three or four chops within the width of an inch--the elephant
waiting meantime--when up would come the trunk again, and down went the
timber. These Kachin dahs must be well tempered[34] and have a fine
edge, for our mahout cut filmy creepers hanging lightly as a hair, as
easily as thick branches.
[34] I noticed later they were not ground to an edge, but shaved with
steel spoke-shave.
About ten we got to the jheel; a swamp in an open space of about sixty
acres, of water and grass; of a fresh green, surrounded by low woods.
Fresh tracks of sambhur and other deer were round it and signs of tiger;
so much big game had passed that there were deeply worn paths. I've no
doubt that by waiting there, one could have had a shot at big game
before long. It made me wish, with all my heart, for time and my 450
cordite express, and I half decided to send for it to Rangoon. Snipe was
our hope in the meantime, so we got off some clothes and plunged into
the marsh and up got snipe at our first step, and we brought down three,
and thought we were in for a great bag. But there was rather too much
water; as we went on it came well over our knees, and every now and then
up the tops of our thighs so there was too little holding ground for us
or snipe. We walked in line, laboriously, halting every now and then to
wait for one or the other to flounder out of a deep place; and when the
sun got up the glare from the water made me think of sunstroke; however,
we persevered and managed to get fourteen couple before lunch time, and
I found my American five-shooter the very thing for the work.
How I wish I had known of there being such good snipe shooting at
Mandalay, I would certainly have had a go at it there: I think 120
couple was a recent bag to one gun in twenty-four hours.
It was very odd having the elephant walking after us, it seemed so much
at home; with his length and number of legs, it could walk slowly but
comfortably where we bipeds had to struggle. As it went it twisted its
trunk round bunches of the water grass, tore them out of the water and
swished the mud off the roots by beating it to and fro across its
forelegs till it was clean, and then she stowed it down her mouth, bunch
after bunch--what an enormous quantity of food they must swallow! The
mahout on its back was in a good place to mark down dead birds; if it
had been taught to point and retrieve, it would have been even more
useful.
[Illustration]
The walking was very tiring, one leg on firm ground and the other up to
the top of the thigh in mud and water for one second, and vice versa the
next; and the trees kept any breeze there was off the jheel, so we
streamed from the tops of our heads. I don't think I ever in my life
felt so hot when shooting--or a bottle of lager at lunch so
delicious!--even the rough native cheroot came in as a pure joy!
The elephant stood beside us as we lunched, under the trees, flapping
its ears in the shade, and occasionally adding a branch of a tree to its
morning meal. The sunlight and patches of shadow on its grey skin made
its great bulk blend into the background of stems and deep shadows, so
that I understood what hunters say about the difficulty of seeing them
in heavy jungle: it was as hard to see as an elk in pines. I wondered
why it did not join its wild companions in the neighbourhood; for it was
once wild, and there was nothing to prevent it going off if it pleased.
After lunch we decided to try for duck; that turned out a failure, but
not for anything would I have missed the experience of wandering through
jungle, where, without an elephant, we could not have moved. I am glad I
am not yet very keen about orchids, or how my teeth would have watered!
for they clothed the branches above us; they seemed generally to grow on
branches about twenty or thirty feet from the ground, towards the light
and air; some trees were literally covered with them at that height.
Our men we had to leave behind, as there was no track, and the Burman
guide climbed up the crupper beside us, and we wandered away to some
pools he knew, where there might be duck. I think we dozed a little--it
was so hot and silent in the forest. There was a feeling of being lost,
for there were no landmarks in the interminable beauty of tall trees and
undergrowth. It was a puzzle for the mahout and elephant to find
openings wide enough to take us and the side boxes on the pad through
the tangle. Often a wrong direction was taken, and a circuit had to be
made to get round a tree, a mass of creepers, or a deep pool. Both the
Burman and the elephant seemed to calculate, to a hair's breadth, the
height and width of all it carried. I think the corner of one box only
once touched a branch, and when we lay low no branches touched our
heads; either the Burman's dah or the elephant's trunk cleared them off
us.
The first pool was lit by a golden shaft of light through the greenery,
rising fish were breaking its smooth weedy surface, but duck there were
none; so we plunged on in the silence in another direction, came out
into the kaing grass again, left the comparatively open forest behind
us, and entered a trackless sea of reeds, which closed round us thickly
on all sides.
[Illustration]
The elephant surged through this steadily, waving its trunk in front,
then pressing the reeds to right and left, or raising it high, and
pulling down masses that threatened to sweep us off the pad. The dust
and the heat of the sun overhead, and the monotony of the surging sound
was a little oppressive.--It reminded me of moments long ago, in smaller
reeds, and a small boy hunting duck round a loch in Perthshire; the
stuffy, closed-in feeling, the crashing of the reeds, and the silence
when you stopped to listen. Here we paused too, now and again, and the
Burman stood up on the pad and tried to get our bearings. We got pretty
well lost, I believe. Then on we went, the huge beast crushing through
the endless savannahs, as at home in its reeds as a liner surging
through pathless seas. The motion and sound kept going all night in my
dreams, the slow rolling of vast bones and muscles under the pad, and
the crash of the reeds giving way, and the swish as they closed behind
us. Here, as in the jungle, pretty blue convolvuli twisted up dead reeds
nearly to our level, and peeped up at the sun. When we finally struck
the long-sought for pools there were no duck, leastwise, but two, and
some snake-birds, as they call a cormorant here that has a neck like an
S. Round the edges the grass had been regularly grazed, so I'd bet on a
shot there for one who could wait, but, apart from the shot, what would
one not give for the pleasure of watching some of Burmah's beasts in
their natural state. We were both a little tired by the time we got back
in the afternoon to the path to the river, and an hour or two after,
when we crossed the sands, and slid off our elephant's back at the
river's edge, we had to take kinks out of our lower extremities, and
even our elephant seemed very exhausted as it stood in the shallows, and
slowly lifted water in its trunk and squirted it into its mouth. She and
her mahout lodged the night on the far side.
As we crossed the river in our canoes, the sun was setting, and Carter
said, "Isn't this like the West Highlands?" I had been thinking the
same, almost admitting to myself that this country is perhaps as
beautiful--certainly to the sportsman who neither rents nor owns lands
at home, it must be out and away better. The view from his window in the
Fort to the west was splendid. The Military Police Bungalow is on the
top of the river bank, and beneath us stretched the sands, and the river
reflecting violet and gold from the after-glow; then the rolling woods
and the distant Chin hills, in purple and red, against the sunset, with
one tall rain-column, very slowly passing across the yellow sky. Swing a
branch of a heavy-leaved tree across the top of the wide window in
Japanesque arrangement, put two men, two pipes, and two pegs in the
foreground, the rising bubbles sparkling yellow in the level sunset
rays, and the pipe's incense ascending in blue perpendiculars, and you
have a suggestion of the perfect peace and entire absence of bustle
which we associate with a certain Valley of Pong.
[Illustration]
It made "trop de chose," to quote the great Carolus, to go out to dinner
after such a full day, but the occasion was somewhat important; General
Macleod and Mrs Macleod and his staff were to be entertained at the
Military Police Mess.
The dinner was beautifully done, flowers and menu could not have
possibly been better, though the party was not large, only our two hosts
of the Military Police, the General and his wife, and his aide-de-camp,
and G. and myself. I learned afterwards the A.D.C. had charmed G. with
tales of the dangers of crossing into China without escort and permits.
We had a great entertainment or Pwe after. We took out cigars and chairs
outside, and sat in a half circle in moonlight and shadow. In front of
us was a space of silvery grey sand, the stage we will call it; at the
back of the scene was a sentinel's box on the stage right, to the left
the lower part of a tree, and, between these, a low breastwork of earth,
all in shadow against a moonlit distance of mist, and woods and
mountains. Enter left (spectators right), the supers from shade of
trees, carrying lamps, they are Indian soldiers, Sikhs possibly, in
mufti, you cannot distinguish them easily, they sit in shadow, two deep
round the back of the stage on the ground and low breastwork, the lamps
at intervals on the ground throw up a little warm light on their faces:
the hubble-bubble is lit, and goes round from hand to hand, and the
smoke of the tobacco hangs a little.
Enter left, dancers and musicians slowly, with shuffling steps. The
quiet is broken by a note on a gong, struck softly, and there is an
almost inaudible flute melody on reeds, and liquid notes struck on empty
bamboos. These dusky figures are Kachin men, with red turbans, and
short, white, very loose kilts and bolero jackets. Some of the reflected
light from the sand shows their curious, serious, boyish faces. They are
short, but well-knit; they dance in a slow figure in a line, hand in
hand, the bare feet shuffling with a little sound in the dust. The music
is very faint, but you long to be able to remember the uncommon air that
seems to have caught the quiet of the hills, and the depths of the
bamboo woods.
These Kachin players are natives of the mountains here, and to the
north. They are being brought into order, and indeed, a number are
enlisting in the Military Police. Till recently, they were free, wild
mountaineers, doing a little farming and raiding and vendetta business.
They went off, and came back from the deep shadows of the trees with
glittering swords and more strident music, and louder beating on gongs,
and harsher notes on chanters, and a loud booming sound on a narrow,
six-foot-six drum with bell-shaped mouth; and the figures danced
quickly, going backwards, in circles, and breaking into groups, the
swords whirling and flickering beautifully in the moonlight, and the
audience clapped hands gently in time, and there was an occasional
heugh! as used to be the way in our Highland Reel, before the invention
of the--lowlander, the screaming "eightsome."
I wish I remembered more of the Pwe--how I wish I could see it over and
over again, till I could remember part of one of these quiet reedy
tunes, so that I could recall this scene and the charm of Burmah
whenever I pleased--for me, not even a scent, or colour, or form, can
recall past scenes so vividly as a few notes of an air, the rhythm of
some folk-song--a few minor notes, an Alla--Allah, and you breathe the
hot air of desert, and feel the monotony of black men, and sand, and
sun--Thrum--thrum--thrum, and you are in the soft, busy night, in Spain,
and again a few minor notes, strung together, perhaps, by Greig, in the
Saeter, and you feel the scent of the pines in the valley rising to the
snow--a concertina takes me back to warm golden sunsets in the dog
watches in the Doldrums!--guess, I am fortunate receiving sweet
suggestions from a concertina!
8th February.--Up in the morning very early, and went with the Algys to
witness the Review of Captain Kirke's Kachin and Native Military Police
before the General. Mrs Algy looked on from the Fort, and General
Macleod and Captain Kirke stood at the saluting base, Mrs Macleod on a
white pony behind, and Mr Algy of the Civil Police, and myself
represented the B.P. The newly-recruited Kachins' marching and drill was
perfection. Their rifles and bayonets they handled with precision, and
as if they loved them. They are small men, but well shaped, not quite so
bombe, but even more lithe-looking than Ghurkas, Captain K. says they
are as good for hill-work; in fact, if it is possible, they are better!
They stormed a village after the march past, which was a charming sight
to see. The people in the village used black powder, so you could tell
from what parts of the brown, sun-dried cane houses the shots came from.
They took cover wonderfully, considering it was only sham fight, ran in
in sections, generally aimed at something, and fired without flinching,
though they wore boots, which must have been a new and painful
experience. I felt quite martial myself, and felt how excellent it must
be to go fighting with some hundreds or thousands of lives to stake on
an issue, and, so reflecting, my admiration increased for those private
gentlemen at home, and in the Colonies, who went with only their own
lives to Africa, for somebody else to stake.
In the evening the Officers came to the D.-C. Bungalow, and we had
music, and drank to the health of our unknown host who is still in the
hills, and Captain Kirke pencilled a route map for our ride into China.