CHAPTER IV
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 [[33]]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, [[34]]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.
A Moment of Suspense
Perhaps I may mention that never in my experience have I seen an animal more terrified than that [[35]]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 [[36]]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 [[37]]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. | ||
[[38]]
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 [[39]]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 [[40]]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), [[41]]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 [[42]]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. [[43]]