CHAPTER III.
REV. D. WEBSTER’S PARTY DETAINED—SIAMESE OFFICIALS EXPECT BRIBES—PHOTOGRAPHIC PLATES ALL SPOILT—VISIT FROM KARENS—JOINED BY THE B.B. PARTY—SIAMESE POLICE POST—GORGES IN THE THOUNGYEEN AND MEH NIUM—RAPIDS STOP NAVIGATION—FORESTS AND ELEPHANTS—DWARF RACES—KAMOOK AND KAMAIT SLAVES HIRED BY OUR FORESTERS—MIGRATION OF LAOS FROM TONQUIN—THE KHAS OF LUANG PRABANG—SACRIFICES TO DEMONS—DRINKING THE HEALTH OF STRANGERS—KING OF SIAM ALLOWS SLAVE-HUNTING—MISSIONARIES REQUIRED IN THE MEH KONG VALLEY—LEAVE THE GUARD-HOUSE—CROSSING THE WATER-PARTING—WILD TEA—KAREN VILLAGES BUILT DISTANT FROM ROAD—COUNTRY FORMERLY LACUSTRINE—SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT—HEAVY RAIN—A SHOWER-BATH IN BED—ELEPHANTS CROSSING STEEP HILLS—WILD ANIMALS—REACH THE MEH NIUM—KAREN PIGS—REMAINS OF A LAKE-BOTTOM—THE MAING LOONGYEE PLAIN—EPIDEMIC OF SMALLPOX—VILLAGES TABOOED—ARRIVE AT MAING LOONGYEE—MOUNG HMOON TAW’S HOUSE—A TIMBER PRINCE AND THE MONEY-LENDERS.
The sala, or traveller’s rest-house, we found occupied by the Rev. David Webster, who with his wife and pretty little golden-haired daughter was on his way to Zimmé by a route to the south of that we intended taking. Mr Webster is a missionary of the American Baptist Mission, which together with the American Presbyterian Mission has been highly successful in civilising and converting the Karens in Burmah. He was now on his way to the Siamese Shan States, as he had heard from some of his converts that there were many Karens in Central Indo-China.
In Burmah he had only been able to hire elephants to carry them as far as the frontier, and was therefore at the mercy of the Siamese official in charge of the guard. He had omitted on principle to grease this petty potentate’s palms, with the result that he had been detained waiting for thirteen days. Having lost patience, he had endeavoured to hire the elephants direct from the Karens instead of waiting for the Jack-in-office to take action, but found the Karens were afraid to let them on hire to him for fear of rousing their tyrant’s anger, or having to part with a portion of the hire.
I stopped over the next day to allow the Bombay Burmah party to join us, which they did in the afternoon. In the morning I unpacked my photographic apparatus, and took views of the country, guard-station, and Mr Webster’s party, which included several Karen girls who were attached to their schools. When unpacking the dry plates, I was dismayed to find many adhering to the tissue-paper covers, and all of them spotted by damp. As I opened packet after packet on my journey, I found them all in the same plight, and before I reached Zimmé ceased photographing, and sent the views—some fifty in number—that I had taken, to Mr Klier, the photographer in Rangoon, who had kindly promised to develop them for me.
In the afternoon a Karen man with his little boy and girl came to visit our camp. The children were greatly pleased with the bead necklaces which I gave them. Messrs Bryce and Boss, who had with them ten elephants and eleven ponies and mules—the latter purchased from the Chinese caravan which had passed us when halting on the Hlineboay river—arrived towards dusk, and camped near us.
The Siamese frontier post consists of five buildings, enclosed by a bamboo stockade. The officer in charge of the Laos or Shan police did not inquire for our passports, and allowed Mr Bryce’s large treasure-guard to march by unquestioned. He had no hope of squeezing anything out of the party, and therefore paid no attention to it.
Our intention had been to proceed from the guard-station down the Thoungyeen to its junction with the Meh Nium, and up the latter river to Maing Loongyee; but on inquiry we learnt that such a route was utterly impracticable. The numerous rapids in both rivers rendered them impassable for boats, and even for canoes. Neither elephants nor men could follow the banks, as the rivers passed through great gorges—the cliffs from both sides rising from their beds. We had therefore to turn eastwards, and following branch valleys and spurs, cross the Karroway Toung, or Parrot’s Hill, into the valley of the Meh Ngor, which enters the Meh Nium above the defiles, through which it escapes from the hills.
A large amount of teak timber has for many years been taken from the forests in the Thoungyeen valley. The Siamese had lately raised the tax from five to six rupees a log: their revenue in 1884 from this source amounted to upwards of two lakhs of rupees. Two hundred and sixty elephants were at work in the forests, which, like other forests in Siam, Karenni, and the Shan States, are worked by our Maulmain Burmese foresters. There is a large sale amongst the foresters of tinned milk, salmon, sardines, butter, and biscuits—all coming from Maulmain.
The Kamooks and Kamaits, who attend to the elephants and fell the timber, belong to the dwarf races of Indo-China, and are brought by their masters from their homes in the neighbourhood of Luang Prabang, and hired to our foresters at from sixty to a hundred rupees a year; each master keeping twenty-five rupees or more out of each year’s salary, and the foresters find the men with food.
The Khas, who include the Kamooks and Kamaits, are doubtless the aborigines of the country lying between the Meh Kong or Cambodia river, and the Annam and Tonquin seaboard. They are supposed to have been ousted from the plains and driven into the hills by hordes of Laos, an eastern branch of the Shans, migrating from Tonquin when it was conquered by the Chinese about B.C. 110.
According to the American missionaries who have visited Luang Prabang, the Khas are harmless and honest but ignorant, and despised by their Laos masters. Their villages are erected within stockades, on the summits of the mountains. The majority, however, live in isolated houses, which with their clearings stand out in bold relief against the sky. They cultivate rice, cotton, tobacco, vegetables, fruit, and betel-nut trees; collect stick-lac from the pouk and zi trees, and gold from the torrent-beds; and prepare cutch for chewing with the leaf of the seri vine, betel-nut, and lime. They are likewise great cattle-breeders, and many of the fine buffaloes met with in Burmah have been brought from Luang Prabang.
The Kha villages form the wealth of the Laos, who reside in the valley of the Meh Kong, to the east of the river. The Khas are known to the Siamese as Kha Chays, or slaves, and are treated as such. According to the Laos chief of Luang Prabang, the seven tribes of Khas in his territory are four times as numerous as his Laos subjects. Dr Neis, who has traversed a great part of his State, believes this opinion to be within the mark. Each Kha has to pay a tribute to his Laos or Siamese master. Without the Khas, their lazy, pleasure-loving, opium-smoking masters would have to work, or die of hunger. The extortion practised upon these kindly-dispositioned people has frequently driven them into revolt. In 1879 they joined the Chinese marauders in their attack upon the Laos; and also in 1887, when they sacked and destroyed Luang Prabang, the chief town and capital of the Shan State of that name.
The Khas, like all the hill tribes in Indo-China, offer sacrifices to evil spirits, who, according to them, are the cause of all the ills that man is heir to. In a single case of sickness as many as ten or twelve buffaloes, or other animals, are at times offered up.
They do honour to their guests and distinguished visitors by calling together the young men of the neighbourhood to drink their health in rice-spirit. Those whom I met were happy, cheery, hard-working men with pleasant faces, which, although flat, were not Mongolian, but, I think, Dravidian in type. Their expression betokened freedom from care, frankness, and good-nature. Those measured by me averaged four feet and nine inches in height, and, like the Negritos of the Andaman Isles, few exceed five feet. Their limbs were symmetrically formed, and altogether the Khas looked vigorous, pliant, and active little men. The Kamooks whom I saw, dressed in jackets and trousers dyed blue similar to those worn by the Burmese Shans, and wore their long hair drawn back from their forehead and fastened in a knot at the back of the head.
As long as the King of Siam allows the harmless hill tribes to the east of the Meh Kong to be hunted down, and held and sold as slaves by his subjects, so long should he be abhorred and placed in the same category as the ferocious monsters who have been and are the ruling curses of Africa. The sooner missionaries, American and English, are sent to Luang Prabang, and other places in the valley of the Meh Kong, the sooner will the King of Siam be shamed into putting a stop to the proceedings of the slave-dealers, who, according to French travellers up the Meh Kong, are fast depopulating the hills. There can be little doubt that the Khas, being spirit-worshippers like the Karens, and not Buddhists, would flock into the Christian fold in the same manner that the Karens have done.
During our stay near the guard-house, the temperature in the shade varied between 46° and 81°, the extreme cold being at daybreak, and the greatest heat at two o’clock in the afternoon.
On the morning of the 31st of January we left early, and following the Meh Tha Wah, and its northern branch the Meh Plor, and crossing two spurs for the sake of shortness, reached the summit of the pass over the great spur that separates the drainage of the Meh Tha Wah from that of the Meh Too, which enters the Thoungyeen two or three miles below the guard-house—the crest of the pass being 46 miles distant from Hlineboay, and 2060 feet above sea-level. The spur can easily be avoided by following the valley of the Meh Too.
Leaving the pass, we descended along the Tsin-sway, or Elephant-tusk, stream to the Meh Too, dropping 300 feet in the mile and a half. Proceeding up the Meh Too, we camped for the night at the forty-ninth mile.
The next morning we left early. A mile on, the stream forked, and we followed the intervening spur, which gradually flattened out and spread until we reached the foot of the pass over the Karroway Toung. A short climb of 400 feet past an outcrop of limestone, led us to the crest, 2817 feet above the sea, and 52 miles from Hlineboay, from whence we had a magnificent view of the country to the west. Here Mr Bryce’s party passed us, and we did not see it again until we reached Maing Loongyee.
Having taken some photographs, we followed a rivulet and descended 260 feet in a mile to the Oo-caw, a small stream which flows eastwards into the Meh Ngor, where we halted for breakfast. During the descent from the pass the Shans brought me branches of the tea-plant, which was growing wild in the hills. Its long narrow leaves reminded me of the willow. The men told me that it was likewise found on the route from Maulmain to Raheng, as well as in the ranges to the north of the pass right up to China. Some of the plants were fully 15 feet in height.
From the Oo-caw we should have descended to the Meh Ngor, and followed the stream to the Meh Nium, as Dr Richardson had done on his journey to Zimmé in 1829; but the elephant-drivers said that the route was overgrown, the Karens preferring to keep open the hill-path, along which, owing to the shallowness of the streams, they could proceed throughout the year. Since leaving the Thoungyeen we had met a few parties of Karens, but had not seen any of their villages, as they build them away from the main tracks.
From the Oo-caw the road passes over a series of great spurs, separated by narrow steep-sided valleys, often merely a dip to the stream-bed. From the crests of the main spurs, which were occasionally higher than the summit of the pass, we had magnificent views of the country, which has the appearance of the desiccated remains of a great rolling plateau, the crest of the spurs following the wave-line across the main valley of the Meh Ngor.
There can be no doubt that the hill-bounded plateaux and valleys in the Shan States were at one time lakes, which were subsequently drained—some by subterranean channels, the stream reappearing on the other side of the hills, and others by great rifts made across the hills by earthquake action. The numerous mineral and hot springs we passed, and the earthquakes which still occur at times in the country, bespeak the continuance of unrest near the surface.
After scrambling over six great spurs, we halted for the night near a small mountain-stream. The strata seen since leaving the Thoungyeen had been limestone, sandstone, and shales, each appearing at various times. Many fine tree-ferns were noticed during the day.
The next day rain commenced at half-past three in the morning, and the showers continued until noon. Our howdahs were without covers during this stage of the journey, so we could not creep into them to escape from the storms which occasionally happen in the hills. Our shelter for the night consisted of a few lopped branches of trees, stuck in the ground, serving as rafters and wall-plates for our covering of waterproof sheets, while plaids hanging from the wall-plates formed the walls. This was amply sufficient to keep off the heavy dewfall, but enough care had not been spent on it to secure us from rain. I had turned in much fatigued, having stayed up late inking over the pencil notes in my field-book and writing up my journals, and had slept through the first shower, when I was awakened at half-past five by Dr Cushing, who told me I had better turn out as it was raining in torrents. I merely replied “All right,” and went to sleep again. Soon the water gathering on the waterproofs, which we had rigged up as a shelter, weighed them down and came pouring on to my mosquito-curtains, and, soaking through them, effectually brought me out of dreamland; but I got no compassion from my companion, who absolutely roared with laughter at my being ducked. A change of clothes and a peg of whisky were at hand, and having lit a cigar, I was ready to crouch out the storm cheerfully.
Rain again commenced to pour down at seven o’clock, but we could not afford to delay, so struck our camp and departed. After crossing four spurs, we halted for breakfast at eleven near two deserted houses. The path, owing to the rain, was rendered so slippery, and was so steep, that the elephants at times had to slide down on their bellies, with their legs stretching out behind and before them. To see these great clumsy-looking brutes constantly kneeling down, crouching on their haunches, and then rising again, as they ascended and descended the hillsides, in order to keep their equilibrium and reduce the leverage; never making a false step; putting one foot surely and firmly down before lifting another, and moving them in no fixed rotation, but as if their hind and fore quarters belonged to two independent bipeds; every movement calculated with the greatest nicety and judgment,—forced one to admire the sagacity and strength of the animals, and the wonderful manner in which their joints are adapted to their work.
As soon as breakfast was over we resumed our march, and crossing two more spurs, descended from the last one to the Meh Ngor, a stream 100 feet broad with banks 18 feet high. After following this stream for a mile, we camped for the night. Limestone and sandstone, with occasional shales, were the only rocks previously noticed: here trap cropped up for the first time, and teak-trees again appeared in the forest. We were now 66 miles from Hlineboay, and 396 feet above the sea.
Elephants, rhinoceroses, tigers, wild cattle larger than buffaloes, elk-deer, pigs, and other wild animals, are said to abound in these hills. We had heard tigers and deer round our camp nearly every night since we left Teh-dau-Sakan. The boys were at first frightened, and used to borrow my gun to scare the tigers away, but now had become accustomed to the peril, and ceased bothering me. Pea-fowl were plentiful, as we frequently heard them screeching in the morning.
Next morning, starting a little after seven, and skirting the stream for four miles, we crossed the Meh Ngor not far from its junction with the Meh Nium, and soon after entered the teak-clad Huay Ma Kok hills, which separate the Meh Ngor from the Meh Laik. Up and down again we went over hill and valley, instead of following the level path along the Meh Nium; past the Huay Ma Kok, which is a circular subsidence or depression 150 feet wide and 20 feet deep, on the top of a spur, until we came to and crossed the Meh Laik, by which we camped near a cliff of blue slate rock. The rocks exposed in the latter part of the journey were indurated clays and sandstones, both veined with quartz and shales and conglomerates.
The following morning a two miles’ march over a hill in a dense mist brought us to Meh Ka Tone, a good-sized house on the banks of the Meh Nium. The river is here about 150 feet broad, with banks 12 feet high, and water 3 feet deep. Meh Ka Tone lies 76 miles from Hlineboay, and 451 feet above sea-level.
The house belonged to a forester who was absent, having left a Kamook slave in charge. Two Karen pigs, small, hairy, slate-coloured creatures, with dark bristling manes, were tied up by perpendicular strings under the house, so that they could neither lie down nor walk until the strings were slackened. As we had been feeding on tinned meat for the last two days, some of our fowls having been quietly appropriated by the Karens, we tried hard to persuade the man to sell us one of the pigs and a few of the fowls that were scuttling about, but all in vain,—they were his master’s property, and he dared not part with them at any price without his consent.
Resuming the march and proceeding up the valley, now and then crossing hill-spurs and river-bends for the sake of shortness, at the eighty-third mile we again entered cultivated land, near the deserted village of Meh Kok, the site of which is now only marked by cocoa-nut and mango trees. The crests of the main spurs of the ranges of hills on either side appeared to be three miles distant; but on the west, a curious parallel range or formation, rising some 500 or 600 feet above the plain, lies between the main range and the river. On visiting these hills from Maing Loongyee we found them a perfect maze of equal elevation, looking like a gigantic Chinese puzzle, composed solely of friable earth, and rapidly frittering away,—there could be no doubt that we were looking at the remains of an old lake-bottom.
The plain, which is adorned with a great variety of flowering trees and shrubs, like the rest of the country we had passed through, containing much valuable timber besides teak, gradually increased in breadth as we proceeded, and is a mile and a half wide at Maing Loongyee. Several Karen and Lawa, and a few Shan, villages are dotted about it, but the cultivation is insufficient for the wants of the people, most of whom are engaged in forest operations. Rice has therefore to be imported from Zimmé.
Many of the villages in the plain were placed under taboo, owing to an outbreak of smallpox, a disease much dreaded by the hill tribes. The paths leading to such villages are stopped by a branch of a tree being thrown across them, and magical formulæ are stuck up in order to keep the evil spirits who propagate the disease from the village. No stranger dare enter a village so guarded. Should he do so, and death or illness subsequently happen, he would be held responsible. Life, or the price of life, for life, is exacted in such cases.
We halted for the night on the bank of the river, and starting early, reached Maing Loongyee the next morning. Finding that the zayat, or rest-house, was occupied by the Bombay Burmah Company, we despatched a messenger to Moung Kin, a relation of the celebrated Moulmain forester Moung Hmoon Taw, who works the Maing Loongyee teak-forests, and he at once hospitably placed the best part of his premises at our disposal. This arrangement proved very fortunate, as I was thus enabled to procure the most reliable information about the country.
The dwelling-house consisted of three separate buildings, built of teak and shingle-roofed, erected on a large square platform raised eight feet from the ground on posts. The house was situated in a compound enclosed by a stockade, separated from the river by a broad cattle-path, and surrounded on two sides by an orchard fringed with a fine hedge of roses eight feet in height. Two of the buildings on opposite sides of the platform, separated from each other by a broad passage, served as residences for the family. One of these, consisting of three rooms, was handed over for our use. The third building was situated near the north end of the platform, and served as a cook-house and servants’ quarters. We felt quite in clover after our spell of camp life.
Moung Hmoon Taw, to whom the house belonged, was one of the kings of the teak trade. During the last three years, owing to scarcity of rain, he had been unable to float his timber out of the forests, and was therefore unable to repay the loans he had received from the Chetties, or Native of India Bankers. By no means alarmed at his position, he had lately astonished the bankers by sending them a letter through his solicitor demanding a further loan, and stating that unless he received it at once, he would be unable to pay them the sums they had advanced him. There was small doubt that the bankers would be compliant, as they could not afford to lose the 25 lakhs of rupees (£200,000) that was then due from him. The crash was, however, only put off for a time, as last year he became bankrupt. Poor Moung Hmoon Taw! poor bankers! I know who suffered most—not Moung Hmoon Taw. The bankruptcy proceedings were subsequently withdrawn.