The meetway now entered, and seated himself on a small stool, in one corner, which had been freshly sprinkled with water; he then blew through a small tube, and, throwing it from him with a deep groan, at once fell into an extraordinary state of tremor, every limb quivered, and his feet beat a literal “devil’s tattoo” on the bamboo flooring. He groaned as if in pain, tore his hair, passed his hands with maniacal gestures over his head and face, then broke into a short wild chant interrupted with sighs and groans, his features appearing distorted with madness or rage, while the tones of his voice changed to an expression of anger and fury. During this extraordinary scene, which realised all one had read of demoniacal possession, the tsawbwa and his pawmines occasionally addressed him in low tones, as if soothing him or deprecating the anger of the dominant spirit; and at last the tsawbwa informed Sladen that the nats must be appeased with an offering. Fifteen rupees and some cloth were produced. The silver, on a bamboo sprinkled with water, and the cloth, on a platter of plantain leaves, were humbly laid at the diviner’s feet; but with one convulsive jerk of the legs, rupees and cloth were instantly kicked away, and the medium by increased convulsions and groans intimated the dissatisfaction of the nats with the offering. The tsawbwa in vain supplicated for its acceptance, and then signified to Sladen that more rupees were required, and that the nats mentioned sixty as the propitiatory sum. Sladen tendered five more with an assurance that no more would be given. The amended offering was again, but more gently, pushed away, of which no notice was taken. After another quarter of an hour, during which the convulsions and groans gradually grew less violent, a dried leaf rolled into a cone, and filled with rice, was handed to the meetway. He raised it to his forehead several times, and then threw it on the floor; a dah, which had been carefully washed, was next handed to him and treated the same way, and after a few gentle sighs he rose from his seat, and, laughing, signed us to look at his legs and arms, which were very tired. The oracle was in our favour, and predictions of all manner of success were interpreted to us as the utterances of the inspired diviner.
It must not be supposed that this was a solemn farce, enacted to conjure rupees out of European pockets; the Kakhyens never undertake any business or journey without consulting the will of the nats as revealed by a meetway, under the influence of temporary frenzy, or, as they deem it, possession. The seer in ordinary life is nothing; the medium on whose word hung the possibility of our advance was a cooly, who carried one of our boxes on the march, but he was a duly qualified meetway, belonging to Ponsee village. When a youth shows signs of what spiritualists would call a “rapport” or connection with the spirit world, he has to undergo a sufficiently trying ordeal to test the reality of his powers. A ladder is prepared, the steps of which consist of sword blades, with the sharp edges turned upwards, and this is reared against a platform thickly set with sharp spikes. The barefooted novice ascends this perilous path to fame, and seats himself on the spikes without any apparent inconvenience; he then descends by the same ladder, and if, after having been carefully examined, he is pronounced free from any trace of injury, he is thenceforward accepted as a true diviner. Sala improved the occasion by warning Sladen that a powerful combination had been formed to oppose our advance, and that many evil reports had been circulated, but concluded by saying that a liberal expenditure of silver would remove many, if not all, obstacles. The practical application of this was made next morning. When all was ready for a start, the tsawbwa would not appear: Sladen paid him a visit, and was informed that six hundred rupees must be paid nominally as an advance for the mule-men, or else he had better go back. This extortionate demand was reduced after some debate to three hundred, which were paid, and then an additional sum of three hundred rupees was demanded for the carriage of the troublesome and tempting cash-chest. An offer of one rupee per diem each to twenty bearers was refused, and we then decided to divide the cash into parcels of three hundred rupees to be carried by the men of the escort. By this means the liability to continual “squeezes” on the part of the chiefs, or robbery by the porters, was avoided. At length we set out from Ponline, and, after proceeding a mile over an easy road along the high ground, commenced the descent to the gorge, down which, fifteen hundred feet below, the Nampoung flowed into the Tapeng, dividing the hills into two parallel ridges. The descent, at first easy, gradually became steeper, and at length precipitous; the path was cut into zigzags, but as slightly deviating from the straight line as the steepness of the declivity allowed. The weathered and disintegrated surface of metamorphic rock had been worn down by traffic and torrents, so that it often was a deep V shaped groove with but nine or ten inches of footway, and the loaded mules found it difficult to round the abrupt turns in these deep cuttings; huge boulders, stones, and sharp-pointed masses of exposed quartz, made the travelling still more hurtful and dangerous to man and beast. The beds of the streams were filled with fine granite, and in the largest watercourse crossed, a small section was observed, showing a mass of greyish micaceous schist, with large veins of quartz; it was tilted up vertically, and there were distinct indications of bedding in a nearly north and south direction. The Nampoung, whose source lies among the hills to the north-east, is the limit between the districts of Ponline and Ponsee, and was formerly, and must be considered still, the boundary between Burma and the Chinese province of Yunnan, the ruined frontier fort being pointed out on a height commanding the ford. We forded the Nampoung on our ponies, where the stream was a hundred feet wide, and three feet deep. The beasts could scarcely stem the rapid current, which in the event of a fall would have soon swept horse and rider into the foaming Tapeng. The road wound up the face of a precipice, below which the Tapeng rushed down a succession of rapids, with a deafening roar, and a force which nothing could resist, save the prodigious masses of granite which encumbered its bed, while others leaned from the banks as if ready to topple into the raging torrent.
The occasional glimpses of the distant landscape were glorious; on either hand hills towered up into mountains, and range succeeded range, till lost in the blue distance. Our enjoyment of the grandeur of the mountain scenery was, however, somewhat marred by the difficulty of the path, which compelled us frequently to dismount, and let the goat-like ponies scramble as best they could up the deep narrow cuttings. The road contoured the hillside, cut into the face of the rock for some ten feet, presenting every now and again turnings at a sharp angle. On the verge of a precipice of one thousand feet deep, the outer edge gave way under the hind hoofs of Williams’ pony, and he was only saved from destruction by the pony recovering itself with a vigorous effort. Kakhyen roads seem to be purposely designed with a view to reaching the highest points on the given route, and after leaving the river banks, we thus ascended and descended over a succession of lofty spurs abutting on the river from the main range; precipitous ridges, connecting them at right angles, presented tolerably level ground, but with a surface so confined that the traveller looked down into the deep gorges on both sides. Patches of rich loamy soil in the valleys, and on the slopes of the spurs, were cleared for paddy, and in each clearing a small thatched hut raised on poles served as a watch-tower. Near some of the villages perched on heights, limited efforts at terrace cultivation were visible, and in one place a small stream had been diverted for irrigation. Magnificent screw pines and large tree ferns displayed their exquisite foliage, relieved by the blossoms of various flowering trees.
By two o’clock the baggage mules were so jaded that, although we had not made more than eight or ten miles, it became necessary to halt in the jungle. Behind our bivouac towered an enormous shoulder of the mountains, rising four thousand feet above us, and called Lakong. The air was genial and temperate, the thermometer marking sixty-three at 9 P.M., and, with our lamps strung up on bamboos, our followers and servants surrounding the bivouac, we dined and slept comfortably and securely al fresco, while the drivers picketed their mules above and below. Close to our camp were some old Kakhyen burial-places on a rounded hill. Each consisted of a circular trench, thirty-eight feet in diameter, and about two feet deep, surrounding a low mound, containing only one body. The high conical thatched roof which covered newer graves, elsewhere observed, had disappeared, but some of the bamboo supports were still standing. The trenches of some other graves were built round with slabs of stone, the form of the grave and manner of interment reminding one involuntarily of the megalithic burial structures.
Before resuming our march to Ponsee, Sala intimated that caution would be required, as the Ponsee tsawbwa was very indignant at not having received the desired musket. The nats also had signified through the meetway that before starting the guard should fire a volley, and the tsawbwa added a recommendation to use double charges of powder, so that the nats might be doubly pleased. The road lay along tolerably easy ground, as we were now almost on a level with the origin of the main spurs, and by noon of March 6th we had reached the village of Ponsee, three thousand one hundred and eighty-seven feet above the sea-level, and forty-three miles from Bhamô. As the tsawbwa did not appear, and had made no preparation to house our party, the camp was pitched under a clump of bamboos, in a hollow below the village. Ponsee, with its twenty scattered houses, and terraced slopes of cultivated ground, occupied one side of a mountain clothed to its summit, two thousand feet above, with dense jungle and forest, save where clearings betokened the vicinity of other villages far above us.
Our muleteers dispersed themselves and their mules on the upper terrace of a tumulus-shaped knoll overlooking the road, and cultivated on one side in a succession of regular and equidistant terraces. In the afternoon we were visited by a pawmine, accompanied by his wife and several female relatives, who brought presents of sheroo and vegetables. One of the young ladies was inclined to be merry and communicative, in order to attract attention and secure a present of beads. Although she was a wife, her hair was cut straight across her forehead, and hung down behind in dishevelled locks, uncovered by the head-dress which Kakhyen wives wear. An offer of a puggery to supply the defect was received with a peal of laughter, at which the pawmine seemed startled and scandalised, and he reproved his fair cousin in a way that caused her to shrink into abashed silence. During the evening the dangerous temper of the Kakhyen was shown by an unprovoked attack made by one of the Ponsee tsawbwa’s followers upon a Burmese servant, but Sala promptly interfered to protect our man, and declared that he would resent an insult offered to any of our people as if offered to himself. Thus, as in other matters, he so far showed himself honest, though his constant demands for money began to make the leader think his friendship might be too dearly purchased.
CHAPTER IV.
PONSEE CAMP.
Desertion of the muleteers—Our encampment—Visit of hill chiefs—Sala’s demands—A mountain excursion—Messengers from Momien—Shans refuse presents—Stoppage of supplies—Ill-feeling—Tsawbwa of Seray—St. Patrick’s Day—Retreat of Sala—The pawmines of Ponsee—A burial-ground—Visit to the Tapeng—The silver mines—Approach of the rains—Hostility of Ponsee—Threatened attack—Reconciliation—A false start—Letters from Momien—A hailstorm—Circular to the members of the mission—Beads and belles—Friendly relations with Kakhyens—Their importance.
On the first night of our sojourn at Ponsee, we were roused from our beds in the open air by a violent thunderstorm, which threatened a drenching, but fortunately let us off with only a few heavy drops. One of the party drew his bed under a small thatched shed close by, and slept soundly, to awake in the morning and find that he had shared his shelter with a deceased Kakhyen, on whose grave he had been reposing. At an early hour, Sala came to inform Sladen that a small army of Shans and Kakhyens had collected to oppose our progress, but that two thousand rupees might purchase their goodwill. When informed that the disposable funds would not admit of such costly travelling, he significantly remarked that the Panthays were rich, and would be glad to assist us. This obstacle might be imaginary, but a most real difficulty left us no time to reflect on it, for instead of preparing for a start, the muleteers, without a word of complaint, or indeed any communication with us, proceeded to unpack their loads, flinging all the baggage on the ground. I went to look after my boxes, but was warned off by a Kakhyen, who flourished his dah, and worked himself up into such a fury that retreat appeared the wisest course. In a short time the mules and drivers marched away, taking the road to Manwyne, leaving us and our baggage destitute of any means of transit. A few beasts remained, belonging to Ponline, but too few to be taken into account. Here was an unexpected dilemma, such as would have delighted Sir Samuel Baker, who says he “finds pleasure in a downright fix.” Sladen set off to find out, if possible, the meaning of it all from Sala, who was seated comfortably drunk in the chief’s house. He declared that the muleteers had been influenced by messages from the Shan tsawbwas of Sanda and Muangla, threatening them with death if they brought us on. He advised threats of exclusion of the Shans from the Burmese fairs by way of reprisals, but Sladen indignantly told him that he came to promote peace, and not dissension, and that he would write conciliatory letters, explaining the object of the expedition to those chiefs who had been misled. Thereupon Sala grew confidential, and let out what certainly seemed the truth, in vino veritas, about our missing interpreter Moung Shuay Yah, who had been last seen or heard of at Ponline. It appeared that this half Chinese scoundrel had finally endeavoured to persuade Sala, and on his refusal the Talone tsawbwa, to murder Sladen and plunder the cash-chest. Thwarted in his villainous projects, he had returned to Bhamô, of which latter fact confirmation was afforded a few days later. Matters looked unpromising; it was whispered that the muleteers had become aware that our detention at Ponsee was certain, and were unwilling to hazard a delay, the profits of which would go into the greedy pockets of the Ponline chief. Besides the dark aspect of affairs, the natural atmosphere was overcast, heavy clouds presaging storm, and to be prepared against all consequences, we removed our quarters to the plateau vacated by the muleteers, where the three sepoy palls, or small tents, accommodated the Europeans, while the sepoys and followers set to work to construct bamboo tents, thatched with leaves and grass for their protection, and speedily a regular camp was established in a favourable position. Sala showed himself in a new light, later on in the day, when he came down very drunk, and dressed in a yellow silk cloth which he had stolen from Sladen’s servant. He was at first inconveniently affectionate, and, seizing Sladen by both hands, vowed eternal friendship; he then grew inquisitive about our rifles and revolvers, and required Sladen to show his marksmanship by splitting a bamboo forty yards off. A refusal to gratify him changed him at once into a violent savage, pouring out a flood of the foulest abuse in Burmese. With tact and patience, he was restrained from violence, but the real treacherous nature of the animal had shown itself unmistakably. He finally assured Sladen that he might make up his mind not to quit Ponsee until he had paid two bushels of rupees. More agreeable visitors arrived, in the persons of the Kakhyen chiefs of Nyoungen, Wacheoon, and Ponwah, small hill districts on the road to Manwyne. These tsawbwas all brought presents of fowls and rice, for which they received cloth as a return. The chief of Ponwah was a wiry little highlander, with oblique eyes, and strongly marked features of a Tartar type, adorned with two scanty tufts by way of moustache, and a sparse beard carefully restricted to the front of his chin. His dress was different from that of the other tsawbwas, and argued a higher social condition. It consisted of a blue turban, blue padded woollen jacket, a kilt of the same material and colour, with a red and blue border, finished off with richly embroidered leggings, and short blue woollen hose with thick soles. A leopard’s fang adorned his dah, and a cloth bag contained his metal pipe and bamboo flask of samshu, which frequently found its way to his thirsty lips; before each draught he dipped his finger into the liquor, and poured a few drops on the ground as a libation to the earth nats. The mother of the young Ponsee tsawbwa also came down, attended by a number of girls, bringing sheroo, or beer, cooked rice, eggs, and vegetables. Beads were distributed, but they begged for rupees; and a few four-anna pieces hardly contented them. One of us gallantly presented an importunate damsel with a pretty little bottle of perfume, and to make her appreciate it, poured a little on her hand, and signed to her to rub it on her face, but having done so, she evinced her disgust by wry faces, spitting at and abusing the donor, as though he had insulted her, to his extreme confusion.
