| 254. Lama with Prayer-Drum. |
| 255. Lama before the Temple Door in Tugu-gompa. Sketches by the Author. |
We have only a few minutes more. With the help of Shukkur Ali I manage to get out of my heavy soaked boots, and have scarcely done so when the boat is pitched violently into the breakers on the shore. Here the water is as brown as oatmeal, and the undertow sucks out the boat again. Now Tundup Sonam wishes to jump out of the boat but I advise him to try first with the oar if he can reach the bottom; he feels no ground and has to wait patiently. The boat receives a blow from behind and threatens to capsize; the oarsmen work as if they were possessed to fight against the undertow, and before I am aware Tundup has jumped out, and, up to his breast in water, draws the boat shorewards with all his might. Now we two follow his example, and with our united strength succeed at last in drawing the boat up the beach before the raging surf can dash it to pieces. One more hard pull and we have drawn it up over the mud embankment into the lagoon, which the waves cannot reach.
Now we had had enough, and we threw ourselves down on the sand, quite tired out. The fearful excitement and tension of body and mind during an hour and a half was followed by stupor and weariness; we had nothing to say to one another, and I gave no orders for the night. We were shipwrecked men, and had every reason to be pleased and thankful that we had firm ground under our feet again, and had escaped safely from the green graves which had yawned below us, threatening to engulf us if we had not been on the alert in critical moments.
We had only dozed a few minutes when two monks and three young novices came gently over the sand and approached us cautiously, as if they were not quite certain whether we were alive or dead. When we got up they greeted us kindly, and inquired how we were and whether we needed help. They were deeply interested, and told us how they had seen from their balcony the boat tossing on the waves, and had been convinced that it must founder in the unusually violent storm that had swept over the lake. They had been frightened to death, and said that it was fearful to see the boat sink in the trough of the waves, and every moment they expected that it would not appear again. On landing we were immediately below them, and the sight was too terrible. Were we hurt at all, and would we come up into the monastery and spend the night in their warm rooms? But I thanked them for their kind offers and preferred to sleep as usual in the open air. If they could get us fuel and food we should be much obliged.
They bowed and disappeared in their maze of staircases, and presently came back with sacks full of dung, brushwood, and billets, and soon a grand fire was burning on the terrace. They kindled it themselves, for our matches and tinder were quite useless. Then they went off to fetch some eatables, for the contents of our packet of provisions were turned into paste by the water.
Meanwhile we made ourselves comfortable on the narrow strip of ground below the monastery. Two large caves opened into the terrace, their vaults black with smoke, for pilgrims and herdsmen spend the night in them. They would have sheltered us from the wind, but they were so dirty that we preferred to pitch our camp at the edge of the bank. It was wet with rain, but we scraped out dry sand with our hands. The boat was taken to pieces and emptied—it was half full of water—and then it was set up by the fire as a screen.
When the fire had burned up and was glowing hot, we stripped ourselves stark naked, wrung out one garment after another, and crouched by the fire to dry our under-clothing and ourselves. Each had to look after himself, for we were all in the same plight. I spread out my things as near as possible to the fire and hung them over the oars and life-buoys to expose them to the wind and heat. Meanwhile I dried my woollen vest bit by bit, turned it inside out, held it to the fire on this side and that, out and inside, and when it was quite dry put it on again. Then came the turn of my unmentionables, then of my stockings, and so on. Nothing could be done with the leather waistcoat and the fur coat; they would not be dry by night, but what did it matter? It was at any rate better here than in the crystal halls of the lake king.
It is still broad daylight, but the storm rages, Gurla Mandatta and all the country to the south has disappeared, for the gale is passing off in that direction. There is fine close rain again. Falcons scream in the holes of the pebbly slopes—dangerous neighbours for the bluish-grey pigeons cooing on the rocks.
The monks came down again with sweet and sour milk and tsamba, tea we had ourselves, and the simple dinner tasted delicious. Then we sat a couple of hours by the fire while the storm continued. I dried my diary and entered the notes which form the contents of this chapter. Between whiles Shukkur Ali entertained me with stories of his adventures during his travels in the service of Younghusband and Wellby. Now that he had escaped death by the skin of his teeth, the past returned more vividly to his memory, and when once he was started on his reminiscences he could not be stopped, good old Shukkur Ali. I listened with one ear and wrote with the other—I had almost said—not to appear uninterested; and, after all, the chief thing to Shukkur Ali was that he could prattle.
At last the northern sky becomes clear, and all the mountains are white with snow; before only Kailas and its next neighbours were distinguished by white caps, but now all is white. We are certainly past the early days of August, but is it possible that autumn is already beginning? The summer has been so short that we have hardly had time to get accustomed to it.