Himalayan Journals, vol 2, J. D. Hooker [small books to read txt] 📗

country, who, to a man, repudiated the proceedings, and refused to attend. Our captors were extremely anxious to induce us to write letters to Dorjiling, and

sent spies of all kinds to offer us facilities for secret

correspondence. The simplicity and clumsiness with which these

artifices were attempted would have been ludicrous under other

circumstances; while the threat of murdering Campbell only alarmed

us, inasmuch as it came from people too stupid to be trusted. We made out that all Sikkim people were excluded from Dorjiling, and the

Amlah consequently could not conceal their anxiety to know what had befallen their letters to government.

Meanwhile we were but scantily fed, and our imprisoned coolies got

nothing at all. Our guards, were supplied with a handful of rice or meal as the day's allowance; they were consequently grumbling,* [The Rajah has no standing army; not even a body-guard, and these men were summoned to Tumloong before our arrival: they had no arms and

received no pay, but were fed when called out on duty. There is no

store for grain, no bazaar or market, in any part of the country,

each family growing little enough for its own wants and no more;

consequently Sikkim could not stand on the defensive for a week.

The Rajah receives his supply of grain in annual contributions from the peasantry, who thus pay a rent in kind, which varies from little to nothing, according to the year, etc. He had also property of his own in the Terai, but the slender proceeds only enabled him to trade with Tibet for tea, etc.] and were daily reduced in number.

The supplies of rice from the Terai, beyond Dorjiling, were cut off by the interruption of communication, and the authorities evidently could not hold us long at this rate: we sent up complaints, but of

course received no answer.

The Dewan arrived in the afternoon in great state; carried in an

English chair given him by Campbell some years before, habited in a blue silk cloak lined with lambskin, and wearing an enormous straw

hat with a red tassel, and black velvet butterflies on the flapping brim. He was accompanied by a household of women, who were laden with ornaments, and wore boots, and sat astride on ponies; many Lamas were also with him, one of whom wore a broad Chinese-like hat covered with polished copper foil. Half a dozen Sepoys with matchlocks preceded

him, and on approaching Tumloong, bawled out his titles, dignities, etc., as was formerly the custom in England.

Illustration--RAJAH'S RESIDENCE, AND THE HUT ASSIGNED TO US. ARRIVAL

OF THE DEWAN.

At Dorjiling our seizure was still unknown: our letters were brought to us, but we were not allowed to answer them. Now that the Dewan had arrived, we hoped to come to a speedy explanation with him, but he

shammed sickness, and sent no answer to our messages; if indeed he

received them. Our guards were reduced to one Sepoy with a knife, who was friendly; and a dirty, cross-eyed fellow named Thoba-sing, who, with the exception of Tchebu Lama, was the only Bhoteea about the

Durbar who could speak Hindostanee, and who did it very imperfectly: he was our attendant and spy, the most barefaced liar I ever met

with, even in the east; and as cringing and obsequious when alone

with us, as he was to his masters on other occasions, when he never failed to show off his authority over us in an offensive manner.

Though he was the most disagreeable fellow we were ever thrown in

contact with, I do not think that he was therefore selected, but

solely from his possessing a few words of Hindostanee, and his

presumed capability of playing the spy.

The weather was generally drizzling or rainy, and we were getting

very tired of our captivity; but I beguiled the time by carefully

keeping my meteorological register,* [During the thirty days spent at Tumloong, the temperature was mild and equable, with much cloud and drizzle, but little hard rain; and we experienced violent

thunder-storms, followed by transient sunshine. Unlike 1848, the

rains did not cease this year before the middle of December; nor had there been one fine month since April. The mean temperature, computed from 150 observations, was 50.2 degrees, and from the maximum and

minimum thermometer 49.6 degrees, which is a fair approximation to

the theoretical temperature calculated for the elevation and month, and allows a fall of 1 degree for 320 feet of ascent. The temperature during the spring (from 50 observations) varied during the day from 2.4 degrees to 5.8 degrees higher than that of the air, the greatest differences occurring morning and evening. The barometric tide

amounted to 0.091 between 9.50 a.m. and 4 p.m., which is less than at the level of the plains of India, and more than at any greater

elevation than Tumloong. The air was always damp, nearly saturated at night, and the mean amount of humidity for ninety-eight observations taken during the day was only 0.850, corresponding to a dew-point of 49.6 degrees, or 5.2 degrees below that of the air.] and by reducing many of my previous observations. Each morning we were awakened at

daybreak by the prolonged echos of the conchs, trumpets, and cymbals, beaten by the priests before the many temples in the valley: wild and pleasing sounds, often followed by their choral chants. After dark we sat over the fire, generally in company with a little Lepcha girl, who was appointed to keep us in fire-wood, and who sat watching our movements with childish curiosity. Dolly, as we christened her, was a quick child and a kind one, intolerably dirty, but very entertaining from her powers of mimicry. She was fond of hearing me whistle airs, and procured me a Tibetan Jews'-harp,* [This instrument (which is

common in Tibet) is identical with the European, except that the

tongue is produced behind the bow, in a strong steel spike, by which the instrument is held firmer to the mouth.] with which, and coarse tobacco, which I smoked out of a Tibetan brass pipe, I wiled away the dark evenings, whilst my cheerful companion amused himself with an

old harmonicon, to the enchantment of Dolly and our guards

and neighbours.

Illustration--TIBET PIPE, AND TINDER-POUCH WITH STEEL ATTACHED.

The messengers from Dorjiling were kept in utter ignorance of our

confinement till their arrival at Tumloong, when they were

cross-questioned, and finally sent to us. They gradually became too numerous, there being only one apartment for ourselves, and such of our servants as were not imprisoned elsewhere. Some of them were

frightened out of their senses, and the state of abject fear and

trembling in which one Limboo arrived, and continued for nearly a

week, was quite distressing* [It amounted to a complete prostration of bodily and mental powers: the man trembled and started when spoken to, or at any noise, a cold sweat constantly bedewed his forehead,

and he continued in this state for eight days. No kindness on

Campbell's part could rouse him to give any intelligible account of his fears or their cause. His companions said he had lost his goroo, i.e., his charm, which the priest gives him while yet a child, and which he renews or gets re-sanctified as occasion requires. To us the circumstance was extremely painful.] to every one except Dolly, who mimicked him in a manner that was irresistibly ludicrous. Whether he had been beaten or threatened we could not make out, nor whether he had heard of some dark fate impending over ourselves--a suspicion

which would force itself on our minds; especially as Thoba-sing had coolly suggested to the Amlah the dispatching of Campbell, as the

shortest way of getting out of the scrape! We were also ignorant

whether any steps were being taken at Dorjiling for our release,

which we felt satisfied must follow any active measures against these bullying cowards, though they themselves frequently warned us that we should be thrown into the Teesta if any such were pursued.

So long as our money lasted, we bought food, for the Durbar had none to give; and latterly my ever charitable companion fed our guards,

including Dolly and Thoba-sing, in pity to their pinched condition.

Several families sent us small presents, especially that of the late estimable Dewan, Ilam-sing, whose widow and daughters lived close by, and never failed to express in secret their sympathy and good feeling.

Tchebu Lama's and Meepo's families were equally forward in their

desire to serve us; but they were marked men, and could only

communicate by stealth.

Our coolies were released on the 18th, more than half starved, but

the Sirdars were still kept in chains or the stocks: some were sent back to Dorjiling, and the British subjects billetted off amongst the villagers, and variously employed by the Dewan: my lad, Cheytoong,

was set to collect the long leaves of a Tupistra, called

"Purphiok," which yield a sweet juice, and were chopped up and mixed with tobacco for the Dewan's hookah.

November 20th.--The Dewan, we heard this day, ignored all the late proceedings, professing to be enraged with his brother and the Amlah, and refusing to meddle in the matter. This was no doubt a pretence: we had sent repeatedly for an explanation with himself or the Rajah, from which he excused himself on the plea of ill-health, till this

day, when he apprized us that he would meet Campbell, and a cotton

tent was pitched for the purpose.

We went about noon, and were received with great politeness and

shaking of hands by the Dewan, the young Gangtok Kajee, and the old monk who had been present at my examination at Phadong. Tchebu Lama's brother was also there, as a member of the Amlah, lately taken into favour; while Tchebu himself acted as interpreter, the Dewan speaking only Tibetan. They all sat cross-legged on a bamboo bench on one

side, and we on chairs opposite them: walnuts and sweetmeats were

brought us, and a small present in the Rajah's name, consisting of

rice, flour, and butter.

The Dewan opened the conversation both in this and another

conference, which took place on the 22nd, by requesting Campbell to state his reasons for having desired these interviews. Neither he nor the Amlah seemed to have the smallest idea of the nature and

consequences of the acts they had committed, and they therefore

anxiously sought information as to the view that would be taken of them by the British Government. They could not see why Campbell

should not transact business with them in his present condition, and wanted him to be the medium of communication between themselves and Calcutta. The latter confined himself to pointing out his own views of the following subjects:--1. The seizing and imprisoning of the

agent of a friendly power, travelling unarmed and without escort,

under the formal protection of the Rajah, and with the authority of his own government. 2. The aggravation of this act of the Amlah, by our present detention under the Dewan's authority. 3. The chance of collision, and the disastrous consequences of a war, for which they had no preparation of any kind. 4. The impossibility of the supreme government paying any attention to their letters so long as we were illegally detained.

All this sank deep into the Dewan's heart: he answered, "You have

spoken truth, and I will submit it all to the Rajah;" but at the same time he urged that there was nothing dishonourable in the

imprisonment, and that the original violence being all a mistake, it should be overlooked by both parties. We parted on good terms, and

heard shortly after the second conference that our release was

promised and arranged: when a communication* [I need scarcely say

that every step was taken at Dorjiling for our release, that the most anxious solicitude for our safety could suggest.