All were now welcomed into my service, and I expressed the hope that they would perform their duty as faithfully as their predecessors, promised them an extra donation of 50 rupees each if I were contented with them, and told them that I would pay the expenses of their return home from the point where our journey ended, just as I had done before. When it was known in Leh that I wanted fresh servants for the journey to Khotan, Guffaru and all the men I had sent home from Tokchen presented themselves and begged earnestly to be restored to my service. But the old Hajji had received strict directions from his son. Not one of my old servants might accompany me this time, for it would increase the danger if we met Tibetans with whom we were already acquainted.
The new horses seemed fine and strong, and stood, eating hay and barley, in a long row along a wall, beside the mules and the veterans from Leh. They were to be well fed, for the days of feasting would soon be over, and it would be well if they put on flesh, on which they could fall back in evil days. All the goods ordered were of the best quality, and packed in new strong boxes covered with leather (Illust. 287).
On the morning of November 29, 1907, three Tibetans came from Rudok-dzong and set up their tents on our left wing. There, I thought, now espionage is beginning. An hour later we heard the sound of bells up in the valley. The noise became louder and louder between the cliffs, and a great din was raised as thirty-four fine little mules with loads of salt passed by my tent. All had a chain of small bells round their necks, most of them were adorned with red and blue ribands, and some had large red tassels hanging at their chests, which almost touched the ground and swung about at every step. It was a bright and lively scene, and the jingle of bells allured me out to fresh adventures in distant regions. In the twinkling of an eye the animals were relieved of their loads and driven up the valley like a herd of wild asses, to graze on the scanty grass among the granite. The owners must then be traders. They afterwards came into my tent, took tea and cigarettes, and asked Abdul Kerim whither we were travelling. He answered without lying, “To Khotan.” It was I who lied. But had I told the truth, I should have been stopped in fourteen days, and might as well have gone home at once.
We had three new tents. The two larger accommodated my eleven servants; the smallest, which was so small that one could only stand upright under the ridge-pole, and could only hold a bed and two boxes, was mine. I wished to have one as small as possible that it might more easily be kept warm. All my baggage was re-packed. I gave some superfluous articles to Robert and to the Rev. Mr. Peter in Leh. There was a very thorough sorting out, and only what was absolutely indispensable was packed, filling two boxes, one of which chiefly contained Swedish and English books, sent by my sister Alma and Colonel Dunlop Smith. As soon as they were read, they would be offered to the winds. When I moved at night into my new tent and laid myself to rest in the large sleeping-bag lined with sheep’s wool, and covered myself, I was as warm and comfortable as in a bed at home.
| 290. Lobsang; 291. Gulam; 292. Kutus—My Last Trusty Followers. |
Gulam Razul’s son, Abdul Hai, visited me, and our business matters were transacted with him. Robert remained responsible for my heavy baggage until he had deposited it in the house of the Hajji Nazer Shah. It consisted of ten regulation horse-loads. In my leisure hours I wrote a heap of letters, which Robert was to hand in at the post-office in Leh.
We had now 21 mules and 19 horses, the brown puppy, and a large yellow dog from Gartok. All the mules and horses, except mine and Abdul Kerim’s saddle-horses, carried loads (Illusts. 296, 297, 298). I rode my little white Ladaki, which had grown marvellously strong again, and was as spirited as one of the new horses. He and two others were the survivors of the large caravan which had, on the former occasion, set out from Leh. In order to make sure that Abdul Kerim took sufficient provender, I told him he must not think that I would follow the direct road like ordinary caravans. I might make excursions right and left, and often remain stationary for a week at a time. He must, therefore, provide barley for the animals for two-and-a-half months, and he must take care that the provender we took with us lasted out. But it is stupid to trust to others. All the heavy baggage from Simla, the silver money, and the tinned provisions made four loads; Gulam’s chests of kitchen utensils, two; the tent, the bedding, and the belongings of the men made several loads; all the other animals were to be laden with rice, barley, and tsamba. We also took 25 sheep from Tankse.
In the night of December 3 the thermometer fell to −10.1°. Next morning all the baggage was packed up and carried down the valley to Shyok by coolies. Two fellows, as strong as bears, carried my two tent-boxes. The animals carried only their new saddles. One group after another marched off, and at last I remained alone. Then I shook hands with my faithful companion, Robert, thanked him for his invaluable services, his honesty, his courage, and his patience; asked him to greet for me the missionaries, Dr. Neve, and warm India; took leave also of honest Rub Das and all the others; mounted into my new Ladak saddle on my trusty white, and rode down to the Shyok valley with Anmar Ju. I was the last remaining of the original caravan, and was surrounded by men who were complete strangers to me. But I was also strange to them, and they had no suspicion of the foolhardy adventures I intended to lead them into. The wind, however, was the same, and the same stars would twinkle in the sky during the cold silent nights in Tibet. So I should not be quite alone.
It is little more than 6 miles to Shyok, and yet this short distance took almost eight hours. We had to cross the river six times, which just below the village of Drugub has cut a deep narrow passage between rocks of granite and gneiss. The first crossing was easy, for there the river had been frozen over in the night, and though the ice cracked, we passed over by a path strewn with sand. At the second passage the river was open, but broad and shallow, and the ice belts on both sides had been strewn with sand. The third, where we had to cross over again to the right bank, was very awkward, because ice belts suddenly ending in the middle were flooded in consequence of a damming up of the ice lower down. They could not therefore be strewn with sand, and we had to be careful lest we should fall out of the saddle when the horses set their feet down in the water 3 feet deep. It is little more agreeable when he jumps up on the opposite edge, and his hoofs slide about before he can get a firm foothold on the smooth ice.