THREATS OF DEATH
An officer of high rank was sitting cross-legged at the farther end of
the tent. He wore a handsome dark-red tunic trimmed with gold and
leopard skin, and was shod in tall black-and-red leather boots of
Chinese shape. A beautiful sword with a solid silver sheath inlaid with
large pieces of coral and malachite was passed through his belt.
This man, apparently between fifty and sixty years of age, had an
intelligent, refined, honest, good-natured face. I felt that he would be
a friend. Indeed, whereas the soldiers and Lamas treated me with
brutality and were indescribably mean, this officer alone showed some
civility to me. He made room by his side, and asked me to sit there.
"I am a soldier," said he, in a dignified tone, "not a Lama. I have come
from Lhassa with my men to arrest you. You are now our prisoner. You
have shown no fear, and I respect you."
So saying, he inclined his head and laid his forehead touching mine, and
put out his tongue. Then he made a gesture which meant that, though he
wished to say more, he could not, owing to the presence of the soldiers.
Later on we entered into a friendly conversation, in the course of
which he said he was a Rupun (a rank below a general). I tried to
explain to him all about English soldiers and weapons. He displayed the
keenest interest in all I told him. In return he gave me interesting
information about the soldiers of Tibet. Every man in Tibet is
considered a soldier in time of war or when required to do duty. For the
regular army all lads strong and healthy can enlist from the age of
seventeen. Good horsemanship is one of the qualities most appreciated in
the Tibetan soldier, and, after that, unbounded obedience. The Rupun
swore by Tibetan matchlocks, which he believed to be the most
serviceable weapons on earth. According to him, as long as you had
powder enough, you could use anything as a projectile. Pebbles, earth,
or nails did as good work as any lead bullet.
He told me that large quantities of these weapons were manufactured at
Lhassa and Sigatz (_Shigatze_). The majority of Tibetan men outside the
towns possessed matchlocks. Gunpowder was made in the country with
saltpetre and sulphur.
The Rupun, seeing how quick I was at picking up Tibetan words, took a
special delight in teaching me, as one would a child, the names of the
several grades in the Tibetan army. The _Tchu-pun_ was the lowest grade,
and only had ten men under him; then came the _Kiatsamba-pun_ or
_Kia-pun_, or officer in command of one hundred soldiers; and the
_Tung-pun_, or head of one thousand. These officers, however, were
seldom allowed the full number of soldiers. Often the "commander of one
thousand" had only under him three or four hundred men at the most.
Above the _Tung-pun_ came the _Rupun_, a kind of adjutant-general; then
the _Dah-pun_, or great officer; and highest of all, the _Mag-pun_ (or
_Magbun_, as it is usually pronounced), the general-in-chief.
The acquaintance of one of these generals I had already made at Gyanema.
Though my informant said that officers were elected for their bravery in
war and for their strength and aptitude in the saddle and with their
weapons, I knew well enough that such was not the case. The posts were
mainly given to whoever could afford to pay for them, among men of
families under special protection of the Lamas. In many cases they were
actually sold by auction.
The Rupun had a keen sense of humor. I told him how fast the Tibetan
soldiers had run away on previous occasions when I had met them and had
my rifle with me. He was quite equal to the situation, and exclaimed:
"Yes, I know that they ran, but it was not through fear. It was because
they did not wish to hurt you." Upon which I answered that, if that were
the case, they need not have run so fast.
The Rupun was amused, and laughed at my sarcasm. He patted me on the
back, and said I was right. He professed to be grieved to see me tied
up. He had received strict orders not to give me food or unloose my
bonds.
The soldiers, who had been harsh and rough, listened open-mouthed to the
friendly talk between the Rupun and myself, a practice not common in
Tibet between captor and prisoner. Following their chief's example
they, too, became quite kind and respectful. They placed a cushion under
me and tried to make me a little more comfortable.
Toward the evening the Rupun was summoned before the Pombo. The guard
was relieved by a fresh lot of men. This was a change for the worse. The
new-comers were extremely rough. They dragged me away from the dignified
seat I had occupied in the place of honor in the tent, and knocked me
violently down on a heap of dung which was there to be used as fuel.
"That is the place for _Plenkis!_" shouted one of the men, "not in the
best part of the tent."
They pounced upon me, and though I made no resistance whatever, they
again tied my feet together. An additional rope was fastened round my
knees. The ends of these ropes were left long, and each was given in
charge of a soldier.
No part of a Tibetan tent was ever clean. The spot where I was to rest
for the night was the dirtiest. Bound so tightly that the ropes cut
grooves in my flesh, it was out of the question to sleep. Worse than
this was the disgusting fact that I soon got covered with vermin, which
swarmed in the tent. From this time till the end of my captivity, or
twenty-five days later, I suffered unspeakable tortures from this pest.
The soldiers, with their swords drawn, were all round me inside the
tent. More soldiers were posted outside.
The night was full of strange events. Shouts could be heard at intervals
from a distance outside, and were answered by some one of the guard
inside the tent. They were to keep the men awake and make sure that I
was still there.
In the middle of the night the Rupun returned. I noticed that he seemed
much upset. He sat by my side. By the light of the flickering fire and a
wick burning in a brass bowl filled with butter, I could see on his face
an expression of great anxiety. I felt, by the kind way in which he
looked at me, that he had grave news to give me. I was not mistaken. He
moved me from the dirty place where I had been thrown down helpless by
the soldiers, and laid me in a more comfortable and cleaner part of the
tent. Then he ordered a soldier to bring me a blanket. Next, to my
astonishment, he became very severe, and said he must examine my bonds.
He turned quite angry, scolding the soldiers for leaving me so
insecurely tied, and proceeded to make the knots firmer, a thing which I
felt was impossible. Though he pretended to use all his strength in
doing this, I found, much to my amazement, that my bonds were really
becoming loosened. He then quickly covered me up with the heavy blanket.
The soldiers were at the other end of the large tent arguing loudly over
some paltry matter. The Rupun, stooping low, and making pretence to tuck
in the blanket, whispered:
"Your head is to be cut off to-morrow. Escape to-night. There are no
soldiers outside."
The good man was actually preparing everything for my flight. He put out
the light, and came to sleep by my side. It would have been
comparatively easy, when all the men had fallen asleep, to slip from
under the tent and steal away. I had got my hands easily out of the
ropes, and should have had no difficulty in undoing all my other bonds;
but the thought that I should be leaving my two men at the mercy of the
Tibetans prevented my carrying the escape into effect. The Rupun, having
risen to see that the guard were asleep, lay down again close to me and
murmured:
"_Nelon, nelon; palado_" (They are asleep; go).
Well meant and tempting as the offer was, I told him I must stay with my
men.
Having my hands free, I managed to sleep a little during the night. When
morning came I slipped my hands again inside the ropes, as I feared they
might accuse the Rupun of unloosing my hands, and he might be punished
on my account.
The Rupun, who seemed much disappointed, tied the ropes round my wrists
firmly again. Though he appeared vexed at my not availing myself of the
chance of flight he had given me, he treated me with ever-increasing
respect and deference. He even produced his wooden bowl, which he filled
with steaming tea from the _raksang_, and lifted it up to my mouth for
me to drink.
On perceiving how thirsty and hungry I was, not only did this good man
refill the cup time after time until my thirst was quenched, but he
mixed with it _tsamba_ and lumps of butter, which he then stuffed into
my mouth with his fingers.
It was really touching to see how, moved to kindness, the soldiers
imitated his example, and, one after the other, produced handfuls of
_tsamba_ and _chura_, and deposited them in my mouth. Their hands were
not over-clean, but on such occasions it does not do to be too
particular. I was so hungry that the food they gave me seemed delicious.
I had been for two nights and one day without food, and, what with the
exertion of the fight and my various exciting experiences during that
time, my appetite was very keen.
The great politeness and consideration with which not only the Rupun,
but even the soldiers, now treated me made me suspect that my end was
near. I was grieved not to be able to obtain news of Chanden Sing and
Mansing. The soldiers' reticence in answering questions regarding them
made me fear that something terrible had happened. Nevertheless, though
my jailers were friendly, I did not betray anxiety, but pretended to
take all that came as a matter of course. I spent the first portion of
the day in a lively conversation with the soldiers, partly to divert my
thoughts and partly to improve my knowledge of Tibetan.