Some miles farther on another surprise awaited me. A new trail was
being cut along the rock to shorten the ups and downs of the old
“Nerpani”—the “waterless trail”—or, rather, some of the worst parts of
the old trail were being modified and straightened. The new trail was
just as narrow and dangerous as the old one, in some places only a
couple of feet or so wide, or even less, with a deep precipice beneath,
and many parts, as with the older trail, were supported on crowbars
thrust into the rock, some slabs of stone placed upon them making the
path.
But one thing the new trail certainly did. It did away with some of the
interminable flights of steps which were one of the most trying
features of the old Nerpani. So that both the Government and the Shokas
who subscribed most of the money for the work, may be congratulated on
the decided improvement of that highway into Tibet.
In former days it was almost impossible to take pack-animals across,
except sheep,—and many of these always perished on each journey,—but by
the new trail, when finished, this is feasible, although not easy.
For certain reasons of my own, and knowing the difficulty of obtaining
ponies in Tibet itself, I decided to bring my pony across at all costs.
It was certainly a job which gave me a great many hours of hard work
and anxiety. The trail, blasted into the rock or in narrow flights of
steps along the high cliffs, was wet and slippery, and in many places
hardly broad enough for the animal’s body to pass without losing its
balance. Still, with a sling or two, and one man holding the beast by
the head and another by the tail, we managed, with occasional
precipitous slides, to get along pretty well. In one place the pony
slipped and fell sideways on the wet slabs, and kicked fragments of the
unsteady road (in that portion laid on crowbars) flying into the river,
down, down below, some 600 or 700 feet sheer drop. In other places,
where rough scaffolding, supported on ropes, had been erected along the
vertical rock in order to cut holes for the crowbars, the work of
conveying the pony across was by no means easy. The scaffolding was
generally made of a couple of trees tied together horizontally and an
occasional plank.
Perhaps the illustration representing one of these passages may give a
better idea of the situation than a long description. It was impossible
for the pony to walk on the scaffolding, so that we had to push him
over and convey him across, suspended, as far as where the trail began
again. This we did by means of several rope slings round his body. Then
one man held the pony’s head, while I held him by the tail—being the
easiest to let go in case of misadventure.
As the weight of a pony is considerable, the men wound the ropes
several times round their wrists; and at one moment, when we were all
in the centre of the scaffolding, it creaked so, and a plank on which a
man stood showed such elasticity when a good deal of the weight was
centered on it, that I really thought we should all be precipitated
down into the stream. As luck would have it—and we did sweat over the
undertaking, although the day was intensely cold—we got safely on the
other side.
Perhaps I may mention that never in my experience have I seen an animal
more terrified than that pony was on that occasion. When we stood him
again upon terra firma his legs quivered so that it was quite painful
to witness, and he neighed and neighed convulsively, and made the sound
echo all down the valley. I may also add that from that same
scaffolding, that same morning, one of the workmen had fallen over, and
his body was dashed into an unrecognisable mass on some rocks in the
foaming stream below.
I had heard most peculiar rumours from the natives that the Tibetans
had come in great force on to British territory at Garbyang, and with
great pomp and much beating of drums were proclaiming that the British
Government were afraid of coming to Tibet, and that the entire Bias and
Chaudas had now been ceded to Tibet.
It may be remembered that as early as 1898, after the return from my
first journey to Tibet, I pointed out to the Government the abuses of
Tibetan officials who came over to our side of the frontier, claimed
Sah-tal or Land Revenue from British subjects, and even tortured
unprotected natives on our side of the frontier if they refused to pay.
Some prominence was given in the House of Commons to questions on this
subject, and the Governor of the North-West Provinces had to
acknowledge that such was the case, but declared that steps would be
taken to stop the abuses. That the Sah-tal was paid was admitted, but
it was stated to be a trade tax, which was untrue, and possibly uttered
in ignorance of facts. It was agreed that the payment of the Sah-tal by
British subjects should, nevertheless, be stopped, and it was actually
suspended.
Apart from the fact that the words Sah-tal in themselves mean “land
revenue,” and that it is paid on the amount of land possessed by Shokas
on British soil, a further proof that it is a land tax is provided by
the case of Darma Shokas, who pay the Sah-tal on their land to the Jong
Pen of Taklakot, and who do no trading with that particular part of
Tibet.
Furthermore, the Jong Pen of Taklakot receives the amount with the
distinct understanding that it is a land tax, and not a trade tax, and
as such it appears in Government reports by the few British officials
who had been to the frontier, such as Mr. Sturt, Mr. Larkin, and other
deputy commissioners and collectors, and the Political Agent on the
spot. In Darma the Sah-tal was collected direct by Jong Pen’s
emissaries, but in Bias and Chaudas the Political Agent was made to act
as a servant to the Tibetans, and after collecting the revenue handed
it over to the Jong Pen’s officials at Gungi and at Garbyang, two
villages conveniently situated for the purpose.
Chaudas, being the most distant from the Tibet border, only paid a
nominal sum of 11 rupees in cash, and some 14 rolls of rough cloth; but
Garbyang, for instance (besides a real trade tax jointly with Chaudas
of 370 boxes of grain, each containing some 24 lbs., and 14 boxes of
coarse cloth), paid for Sah-tal the following items:—
86 (three anna bits).
Oats 1230 lbs.
Saluk (right of pasture) 2 Tibetan rupees.
Ghur (sweet paste) 4 balls.
Coarse cloth 3 entire rolls.
Shoka liquor 55 jars.
Timber 30 huge logs.
Iron 4 lbs.
Cakes, sattoo, charcoal, and liquor for collecting party.
The village of Kuti also paid a heavy Sah-tal.
Rupees 17
Oats 1210 lbs.
Saluk 2 rupees.
Garah cloth 40 yards.
Haunches of mutton 12
Jars of chökti (wine) 50
Ghur 28 balls.
Iron 2 lbs.
and charcoal, cakes, meat, liquor, etc.
Darma paid some 150 balls of ghur, which had a local value of about 75
rupees.
Notwithstanding that the Government of the North-West Provinces could
not or would not see matters in the right light, it was a great
gratification to me to think that, on my giving publicity to such an
injustice, the Government had at last deemed it right to discontinue
the payment of the land revenue to Tibetans by our frontier subjects.
It came, therefore, as a very great surprise to me, on approaching
Garbyang, to hear that the Tibetans had come over to that place in
great force,—with the sanction of the British Government,—and that
several officials, including a Nerba, some Dhats in red and black
tunics and long swords, four jimidars, two drummers, and a number of
soldiers were parading the streets, proclaiming the annexation of the
district to Tibet, and ill-using the natives who differed. They were
gorging themselves at the expense of the natives, and having a fine
time all round.
At the request of a deputation of Shokas, I hastened on to Garbyang;
but the Tibetans, believing that I was coming up with a large and
well-armed expedition to take a revenge upon them for former misdeeds,
deemed it advisable to pack up their chattels, pocket their pride, and
decamp over the frontier.
I met with a most enthusiastic reception from the Garbyalis, who wished
me to remain in their village until the passes were closed up by snow
so as to keep their compulsory guests away. The Shokas seemed depressed
and disgusted at what they rightly believed unwarrantable treachery on
the part of the Government of India. They had always been faithful—even
under trying circumstances—to the British, and such undeserved
treatment led them to the one conclusion, preached by full-powered
Tibetan lungs, that England must indeed be weak, or at least afraid of
Tibet.
Undoubtedly these sad and unchecked occurrences all along our Tibetan
frontier—you see, it is so uncomfortable for Anglo-Indian officials to
go up to the snows to make inquiries and so on—have been the chief
cause of Tibetan aggressiveness. There is no man so brave as the one
who believes his opponent is not going to fight; and perhaps now, after
the much-trumpeted, enigmatical expedition to Lhassa and the unexpected
sudden retreat from that city, they will be no better than before.
I was unable to accede to the request of the natives to remain to
protect their village, as I intended going farther; and, moreover, the
Government of India having become alarmed at my proceeding a second
time towards Tibet, behaved with a considerable amount of amusing
childishness. Government chaprassis were arriving in quick succession
with secret orders to prevent natives selling me provisions, to induce
my men treacherously to abandon me, steal my weapons and food, and
place every possible obstacle in my way.
Some native friends, who, according to custom, had presented me with a
ball of ghur and two handfuls of rice, were arrested and prosecuted,
being brought down to Almora, some 145 miles, for the purpose. Others
met with considerable annoyance, accusations of all kinds being
showered upon innocent people—even such gross nonsense as accusations
of hiding quick-firing guns and pieces of ordnance!
Both the Governor and the Commissioner at Naini-Tal, and the Deputy
Commissioner of Almora, seemed quite hysterical over the affair, and
some absurd threatening letters were written to me. My mails were
invariably tampered with, and all letters opened. Among the most
amusing requests may be noted one that I should show a Chinese passport
if I wanted to traverse Bhot (British territory), which made it seem as
if the cession of that territory to Tibet had really been
accomplished—although even then, as I unfortunately experienced before,
a Chinese Imperial passport has as much effect upon Tibetan officials
as a piece of waste-paper would on the Prime Minister of Great Britain.
I was ordered to divulge my plans, which of course I refused to do,
principally because I had no plans to divulge; and, further, was told I
must stop and “wait for Government orders.” I replied that, being
nobody’s servant, I would receive no one’s orders. I had not asked nor
wished nor needed Government assistance, and I would go when and where
I liked.
I was very sorry that the Political frontier Agent—a most sensible
man—was subjected to much inconvenience and anxiety by constant orders
to stop my expedition by any means—a matter in which I also happened to
be concerned. He could not, as ordered, starve out my expedition,
because I had plenty of food of my own. Silly as the orders given him
were, he obediently did his utmost to check my movements, and,
moreover, behaved like a gentleman into the bargain.
Some spies whom I found in my camp came in for some severe punishment,
and two Government chaprassis, who had one night been despatched to
threaten my men and induce them to desert and capture my food and
ammunition, received a sound thrashing, were disarmed, and I took them
prisoners and brought them along with me to do some mountaineering! At
the same time I sent word to those in authority that, when it should
suit me, on my return, I would personally hand over the two prisoners.
Further orders arrived that any one selling or giving food or showing
friendship to me should be arrested and sent down to Almora for
punishment. All this seemed very useless, as I possessed all I needed;
but, in order to prevent further persecution to some of my friends, I
decided to cross the boundary at once—the Kali River—and enter the
Nepal kingdom—a country also closed to foreigners, as everybody knows.