Through Unknown Tibet

by M. S. Wellby

On leaving Camp 74 on August 3rd, we had to cross an arm of the lake, or rather to make our way round it, for the rain had made the sand too soft to admit of our venturing on it. After marching for some considerable time, we therefore found ourselves just opposite our camp of the previous night, separated only by a narrow strip of treacherous ground. When we had gone thus far we noticed something or other moving on the crest of the high ground above our old camp, and on closer examination, by means of our field glasses, discovered that these moving objects were no other than the reappearance of the deserters. Soon afterwards another one came into sight, and then another. It struck us as highly probable that there had been some disagreement in the party, and that they were already beginning to taste the fruits of their crime.

We pretended to take no notice of them whatever, but rather increased the rate of our marching, keeping the animals close and compact, so that they might see for themselves how easy it was for us to manage without them. We could see them steering for our last night's encampment, where they no doubt stopped to regale themselves over a meal with the flour they had taken away, and to inspect and take whatever they fancied of the things we had left behind.

In order to save ourselves the trouble of searching for roots for our fire and vegetables on arrival at camp, we used each of us to pick up whatever we could during the march, putting the droppings of wild animals and roots into one bag, and the vegetables into another, which were hung on the back of one of the spare mules.

During our march of sixteen miles we saw nothing more of the deserters. We came to the conclusion that they must either have spent a considerable time over cooking their flour, and would catch us up again afterwards, or else we thought it just possible that having seen us marching along apparently without any difficulty, and having found their big cooking pot at the camp, they had concluded that it would be a hopeless task to pursue us any further, and had decided to steer a course of their own for Lhassa.

After passing over undulating grassy country, we halted on the south side of a salt-water lake, Camp 75, hidden in a secluded nook amidst the hills which rose from the water's edge. On the north side, some four or five miles off, ran a range of hills topped with snow peaks.

We found, by choosing a spot like this, that the muleteers could not have discovered our whereabouts from any high ground they would cross, and that to do so they would have to come right up to us. Our march had taken us over seven hours, so that as soon as camp had been pitched and water brought, it was time to collect and picket the mules for the night between our two tents, and begin our night watches.

During these lonely night watches, the absolute silence that reigned in this uninhabited country can never be described. The slightest movement of man or beast was so easily heard that it would have been impossible for a stranger to approach unnoticed. One's thoughts on these solitary occasions would wander far, far back, to others who slept peacefully amidst a scene of luxury and comfort. In order to keep ourselves awake and warm, we used to keep a pot of water in the red-hot ashes of our fire, and brew ourselves a cup of cocoa. I remember every step I took, or anything I laid hold of, seemed to make such a noise, that every moment I expected every one to awake, forgetting that sleep was sounder then than at other times.

The night passed off quietly, and at 4 o'clock we were all five of us busily engaged packing and loading up for another long march. So intent were we upon our work that at first we failed to notice that the deserters had actually reappeared, and were standing in doleful plight some little way off, without venturing to come up to us. Thereupon Malcolm and I approached them, chiefly with the object of searching the bundles they were carrying, to see whether they had any flour left, or anything else that would be useful to us. Strange to say, one of them, and the greediest, Mahomed Rahim, had brought on his shoulder the huge cooking pot in which the tea and soup used to be cooked for all the men. It was evident that he, at any rate, had hopes of our taking them into our service again, in which case he must have thought of the praise he would get from the other men for having thus exerted himself.

It was far from our intentions to take them on again as our servants, and how could we have been expected to? Had we felt that they would have served us faithfully, we should have unhesitatingly forgotten and forgiven their folly, but we instinctively felt that the only chance we had of accomplishing our journey without mishap was to throw off for good and for all these most ungrateful, unreliable men, who were bringing their own destruction upon themselves.

We made a single exception, in taking again into our service one man, by name Shukr Ali. We had a liking for him, and knew he was blessed with a family. He came under the condition that if he worked well and honestly, he would be entirely forgiven his misconduct, and would receive his entire wages, like the two men who had remained faithful. From what Shukr Ali told our two men, it was quite certain that our decision with regard to the remainder was not ill-judged.