PARTING FROM LOBSAN—STARTING FOR LANCHEO—A RUINED SUBURB—GOOD DONE
BY MISSIONARIES—WE TAKE LEAVE OF MR. RIDLEY—OUR FIRST CHINESE
INN.
Next morning, the 19th of October, was decidedly a busy one; our throng
of friends had to be settled up with, and our fresh mules had to be
started off for Lancheo. In China, when travelling with pack mules,
one's baggage is first tied on to arched wooden frames, which, when
everything is ready, are simply lifted up and placed across the saddle,
and, if necessary, a man can ride on top of his baggage. This is an
excellent arrangement, as the mules are never kept standing with their
loads on, and, on arriving at one's inn at the end of a day's journey,
the frames are simply lifted off the saddles and carried, just as they
are, straight into one's room. Those things that are required can then
be undone, while the remainder are ready for loading again the following
morning; the only drawback is that, as the frames ride entirely by
balance, great care must be taken in making up the loads.
The weights these mules carried came rather as a revelation to us, the
regulation being 240 Chinese pounds, which is equivalent to 320 English
pounds, and if a man is to ride his weight is always reckoned as one
hundred Chinese pounds. In India some of the mountain-battery mules
carry loads as heavy, or even heavier, than these, but they are as a
rule far bigger mules, and are much better looked after; moreover they
are very rarely, if ever, called upon to do the marches that a mule does
in China, where the average stage is ninety li, or thirty miles, a day.
About 11 o'clock the baggage started in charge of our Duffadar, who
also took Esau and Shukr Ali with him, to assist in looking after the
muleteers; although neither of these men knew a word of Chinese, we had
no more anxiety in sending them off by themselves in the province of
Kansu, than we should have had in India; in many parts of the country it
might have been a somewhat risky proceeding, but away in the north-west
corner of the empire, the people are so much in the habit of mixing
with Tibetans, Mongols, and others, that they take comparatively little
notice of foreigners.
Meanwhile the Mongols had been getting the balance of pay due to
them, and, as they had done us good service, we gave them some extra
baksheesh, or "wine-money," as they call it, and also the old pony we
had bought from the Tibetan merchant. This put them all in high good
humour; they said that if we ever again came to their country they hoped
that we would employ them, Lobsan adding that his real name, by which he
could always be found, was "Dsun Choni Lama,"[13] by this he was known
to everybody, whereas Lobsan was only his nickname. As soon as they had
got their pay they went off into the town, where, I have no doubt, they
were very soon relieved of the greater part of it by the wily Chinese.
Our business indoors was now finished and we were able to accompany
Ridley round the town. First of all we went to see about hiring animals
to take us to Lancheo, but the replies we received were not encouraging.
We were told that there were a large number of soldiers leaving Sining,
and that it was very hard to procure carriage of any sort, in fact,
although quite civil, the officials, who could have helped us had they
wanted to, made it clear that they scarcely thought it worth while doing
so; they contented themselves with taking a copy of our passport, a very
lengthy and somewhat useless proceeding.
Another obstacle in the way of our departure was that the official
intimation of our having left Tankar had not arrived, for it is the
custom, whenever travellers of importance leave a Chinese town, with
carriage supplied by the yamen, for intimation to be sent to the next
place on their route, where this carriage will have to be changed. In
the present case notice had certainly been sent off from Tankar, but
had not reached Sining, at least, so we were told. After leaving the
yamen we wended our way through the city towards the eastern suburb,
meeting on our way numbers of mounted soldiers. They had escorted a
high military official, who had left Sining that morning, and were
now returning to the city. A very motley crew they were, mounted on
miserable little rats of ponies, and carrying numbers of banners, the
colour and device of which will, they believe, strike terror into the
hearts of the enemy; even the Japanese war seems to have been powerless
to disabuse them of this idea.
On our arrival at the eastern gate of the city we mounted the city
walls, and looked down upon the suburb, which had once been the home
of 10,000 Chinese Mohammedans. Not a roof was left; of a big mosque
which used to stand between the city wall and the outskirts of the
suburb scarcely a trace was visible—only a few pillars remained to mark
the spot where all those followers of the Prophet used to assemble for
worship. From looking down on this scene of desolation, one was able to
imagine what would have occurred had the rebels got the upper hand, and
been able to wreck the city. Had this happened, it is terrible to think
what the fate of our fellow-countrymen within the walls would have been.
It is just possible that, having remained neutral, their lives might
have been spared, but in the awful confusion there would have been, this
is more than doubtful.
[Illustration: RUINS OF THE E. SUBURB OF SINING.]
We spent some time on the wall, while Ridley showed us all the different
points of interest—the road by which the soldiers came in to relieve
the city, the path by which reinforcements and supplies used to reach
the rebels, the place where the defenders' only serviceable big gun
was mounted, and many spots where encounters had occurred. At one time
there had been an order that every man entering Sining had to bring in
a stone, and piles of these were lying on the ramparts, ready to be
hurled down on the heads of the insurgents. There were some soldiers
of the garrison lying about on the wall, where, also, their huts were.
Some of these were indebted to the missionaries for medical treatment
and nursing when wounded; they seemed glad to see Ridley, and to be
grateful for the kindness they had received. On our way back to the
mission-house, and on other occasions, we were able to ask Ridley how
the work of the mission was progressing.
There has been a mission-station at Sining for about ten years, but,
unfortunately, the work has not been continuous. On at least one
occasion the station has been given up, and from time to time breaks
have occurred. This has naturally militated very strongly against the
success of the mission, and the result has been that the number of
converts has been small, and, moreover, one or two of those who were
looked upon as firm believers have fallen away.
Thus the missionaries have met with considerable disappointment,
and it is no wonder that there should again be talk of giving up the
station. Mr. and Mrs. Ridley, as well as Mr. Hall, who has had a very
long experience of Sining, were, however, greatly opposed to this.
During the rebellion they had been able to do a great deal of good
among the townspeople. Numbers had been wounded, and knowing that they
would find friends in need, they had come to the mission-house for
treatment. In this, and in many other ways, they had been able to gain
the confidence of the people in a way they had never been able to do
before, and, as they all say, now, if ever, is the time we shall be
able to do good. Mr. Ridley, in October, 1896, had just been offered
a transfer to another station, where there was a church and a fairly
large congregation of Christians, but it was not hard to see that his
heart was set on staying at Sining, and I am glad to think that he got
his wish. Some people may be inclined to ask whether it is worth while
keeping up a mission-station when the results attained are so small, but
it is scarcely fair to judge merely from the returns of converts and
inquirers that are sent in annually. A great deal of good may be done
which does not come to the surface, and, whatever one's private opinion
and convictions may be, one cannot but admire the devotion of those who
give up everything for the cause they consider to be right.
On our return to the mission-house we found that in our absence Hall
and Rijnhart had been able to arrange for mules to take us to Lancheo
on the following morning, and as Ridley had business to settle at the
headquarters of the mission, he agreed to accompany us. We made every
preparation for an early start; Ridley gave us each a "mantsi," or
"priest's begging-bowl," as a memento of our visit, and Mrs. Ridley
filled our saddle-bags with cakes and other luxuries.
In spite of all our forethought, it was late before we had said our
last farewells to Mrs. Ridley and her children, and further delay was
caused by a doubt as to whether the ferry near the north gate of the
city was plying or not. No one was quite sure, so we decided to leave
by the west gate, where we knew for certain that we should find boats
to take us to the north bank of the Si Ho, along which runs the road,
though by doing so we added about three miles to the day's journey.
We had not gone far before a boy ran after us from the mission-house,
bringing the little terrier "Ruby," who had followed us so far; she
seemed to realize that there was more marching in store for her, and not
to appreciate leaving the quarters where she had been so comfortable,
for before long she again disappeared in the crowd. This time she was
not so easily recovered; first one of the muleteers and then Hall went
back to look for her. The former returned without any news, and I had
just given up hope of ever seeing her again when Hall rode up with her
in his arms, greatly to my delight I need scarcely say. Meanwhile Ridley
and Malcolm had crossed by the ferry and were some distance on their
way, so Rijnhart and I had to push on hard to overtake them.
[Illustration: A SEDAN CHAIR.]
Travelling on a road like this, any little landmarks mentioned by
other travellers are eagerly looked for, and on this day's march there
were two such landmarks, or more correctly speaking, there should have
been two; the first, thirty li from Sining, a bridge over the Si Ho,
mentioned by Mr. Littledale in his lecture before the Royal Geographical
Society on his return from Pekin; the second, another thirty li on, was
the "Peh Ma Ssï," or "White Horse Temple," mentioned by Mr. Rockhill in
both his books.[14] Unfortunately, these are now things of the past;
the bridge was swept away in a flood very soon after Mr. Littledale
saw it, and the White Horse Temple was utterly wrecked by the fanatical
Mohammedans.
Owing to our late start, we were only able to do eighty li, darkness
having overtaken us before we got to the stage, the name of which was
Chang Kia Tsai. This was our first experience of the Chinese inn, and we
had certainly struck a very poor sample of the article; like everything
in the neighbourhood, it had suffered heavily in the rebellion, and was
only just beginning to recover itself. There was, however, stabling
for the animals, and a room with four walls and parts of a roof for
ourselves, containing, of course, a k'ang, or stove-bed, without which
no Chinese room is complete. We were all ready for bed, and as we had
a long day before us, we had a hasty supper and then turned in.
The next morning, the 21st October, we were up long before daylight,
having made up our minds to get to Shang Tan (140 li) by night. We had
left our two remaining mules with Hall, at Sining, and were now very
glad that we had been able to do so, as looking after and feeding them
on the road would have been a great nuisance, and the further we took
them the less they would have been worth. Ridley and Rijnhart each rode
sturdy little country ponies of their own, excellent, sure-footed hacks
over the rough roads, but Malcolm and I were both rather uncomfortable,
and decidedly insecure, perched up on top of our blankets, on pack
saddles; Lassoo, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy, and, like
nearly all Asiatics, was quite content to sit all day on his mule, never
dismounting unless told to do so, or unless it were to get something to
eat.
All along the road we were able to buy most excellent bread, which
is made in various shapes, with beautifully white flour; the kinds we
appreciated most were the "Ko kuei," which is made in large round flat
loaves, weighing about three pounds apiece, and the "Huei huei," or,
Mohammedan bread, so called because only the Mohammedans make it in this
shape, which resembles that of the ordinary cake; these loaves weigh
about two pounds, and have a very nice crust. These larger loaves are
sold by the weight; rolls and smaller loaves are sold at so many cash
each. Bread was dear in 1896, costing thirty to forty cash a pound (1d.
to 1¼d.); in ordinary years it will not be more than half that price.
Ninety li (thirty miles) from Chang Kia Tsai, we got to Lou Ya. From
here there are two roads to Lancheo, the cart road going off to the
left by Ping-Fang, while the mule track, which is the shorter, follows
the river, and at this point enters the Ta Hsia, the "great gorges," so
called in contradistinction to the "Hsiao Hsia," or "little gorges,"
which are about ten miles east of "Sining." The sun was setting as we
entered these gorges, so we missed seeing some very beautiful scenery
at its best; we could, however, realise how difficult, not to say
dangerous, a journey Mrs. Ridley must have had along this track, when
she had come through in a mule litter a few months previously, being too
ill to travel any other way. For a man on foot, or for a pack animal,
the road was easy enough, even in the dark, but getting a litter and
two mules round some of the very sharp bends must have been a decidedly
risky proceeding.