The Summit of Mount McKinley. (From photographs by Mr. Belmore Browne. By permission of Messrs. Putnam's Sons.)The Summit of Mount McKinley.(From photographs by Mr. Belmore Browne.By permission of Messrs. Putnam's Sons.)
The sight of big avalanches on Mount McKinley warned the explorers that great risks had to be faced. On the 5th day of June they started out for their final attack. Unfortunately the weather became very bad, and soon they were enveloped in a heavy snowstorm. Mr. La Voy had hurt his knee hunting, and the ascent through the seracs was for him very arduous. The nervous strain, too, was great, for they had to be perpetually on the outlook for avalanches. They feared that one might have buried their cache, and it was an immense relief when they reached the 11,000-feet point and saw the top of their sled sticking out of the snow.
They now moved their supplies up to a camp on the col of the ridge at a height of 11,800 feet. On 19th June they made a reconnaissance, taking with them food for six days, and intending to climb up to the big basin between the two main peaks. They reached a height of 13,200 feet up a sensationalarête, when Mr. La Voy's knee gave out and they were compelled to return. Three days later they made a camp on the ridge at 13,600 feet. It was a wild and most laborious journey, with a drop of 5,000 feet on the left and of 2,000 on the right. It would take them two hours of hard work to make 500 feet. Apart from the handicap of Mr. La Voy's knee, Mr. Belmore Browne's eyes were very bad. They now realized that they could not reach the summit with their food supply of six days' rations, and they were forced to change their plans, and go back for more food.
They returned to the camp on the col and packed up ten days' rations. With tremendous difficulty they transported them up to a 15,000-feet camp on the ridge, where they were on the edge of the big glacier-filled basin between the two summits. All three found their health beginning to suffer. The pemmican proved to be impossible food, giving them all violent stomach pains, and they were forced to confine themselves to tea and hard-tack. The cold was intense, and inside the tent, with the alcohol stove burning and the warmth of three bodies, the temperature at 7.30 p.m. was five degrees below zero, and three hours later nineteen degrees below zero. "Despite elaborate precautions," says Mr. Belmore Browne, "I can say in all honesty that I did not have a single night's normal sleep above 15,000 feet on account of the cold." By this time their appearance was, as Mr. La Voy said, "sufficient to frighten children into the straight and narrow path." All were more or less snow-blind, burnt black, unshaven, with lips, noses, and hands swollen, cracked, and bleeding.
On 27th June the packs were carried in relays to just under the last serac, which was the highest point in the big basin. The altitude was 16,615 feet. Their one comfort was that a snow-field seemed to lead easily up to the sky-line of the central North-East ridge, and that from there they saw what appeared to be a reasonable gradient to the final summit. On 28th June they rested and prepared for their last effort. They were now convinced that nothing could stop them except storm. The night was fine, and the weather promised well for the morrow. The summit appeared to them to be nearly flat with a slight hummocky rise, which must be the highest point in North America.
On 29th June they left camp at 6 a.m., moving very quietly and steadily and conserving their strength. Mr. La Voy and Mr. Belmore Browne led alternately. Slowly they made their way up the snow slopes at the rate of about 400 feet an hour. At 18,500 feet they stopped and congratulated each other, for they had beaten the Duke of the Abruzzi's record on Mount St. Elias. Presently they were on the sky-line of the ridge, and looking down on the arena where they had struggled two years before. Now, for the first time, came a threat from the weather. The sky was clear to the north, but from the south a great sea of clouds rolled against the mountain like surf on a shore.
As they moved up the ridge breathing became more difficult. At 19,000 feet they had passed the last rock, and were looking at the summit. It rose as innocently as a snow-covered tennis court, but now the wind was rising and the southern sky darkening, and just at the base of the last lift the gale broke. In a fierce scurry of snow they crawled up the round dome, Mr. La Voy leading and hacking steps. Then came Mr. Belmore Browne's turn, and he realized that his hands were freezing, and that the bitter wind was cutting through his flesh. He dare not get dry mittens from his rucksack lest his hands should be frozen during the change. When his second turn was three-fourths finished, Professor Parker's barometer registered 20,000 feet, and they were within 300 feet of the top.
The rest was an evil dream. To each man the other two seemed to be lost in the ice mist, and the cold was freezing their marrow. The storm was growing fiercer, and as they topped a little rise its full fury burst upon them. The story must be given in Mr. Belmore Browne's own words:—
"The breath was driven from my body, and I held to my axe with stooped shoulders to stand against the gale; I could not go ahead. As I brushed the frost from my glasses and squinted upward through the stinging snow I saw a sight that will haunt me to my dying day.The slope above me was no longer steep! That was all I could see. What it meant I will never know for certain—all I can say is that we were close to the top!"
There was no going on in the teeth of that gale. The three chopped a seat in the ice, trying to find a shelter; but they were not huddled there a second before they discovered they were freezing. There was nothing for it but to return, for the snow was obliterating their back trail. Dead tired and sick at heart they began the journey back, and found that the steps they had cut had disappeared. It took them nearly two hours to go down an easy slope of 1,000 feet. They reached the base of the dome, guiding themselves only by the direction of the wind, and at last at 7.35 p.m. crawled into their upper camp. All their apparel down to their underclothes was filled with ice. They were beaten by the wind, and by the wind only. On a conservative estimate its pace was fifty-five miles an hour, and the temperature fifteen degrees below zero. Otherwise they suffered little from the altitude. Mr. Belmore Browne was able to roll and smoke a cigarette between 18,000 and 19,000 feet.
They spent a day in their tent, trying to thaw their clothes. Pemmican they could not touch, their chocolate was finished, and their food was tea, sugar, hardtack, and raisins. It was a cruel fate that they had lost ten days' rations in useless pemmican since leaving their 13,200-feet camp, and they had not only lost the food but carried useless weight.
They made one more attempt on the summit, and reached the base of the final dome; but there another storm assailed them, and, after waiting an hour, they went back. There was now a real risk of being caught with insufficient food in a blizzard which would destroy life, and they made haste down the mountain. They had spent seven days above 15,000 feet, six days above 16,000 feet, and four days above 16,650 feet.
As they descended their health improved, and at last they came off the glacier on to the moraine, and lay down on the bare earth. It was the first time for thirty days that they had lain on anything but snow and ice. They slept like logs till the afternoon, and when they awoke a warm wind was blowing up the pass, carrying with it the smell of grass and flowers. "Never can I forget," says Mr. Belmore Browne, "the flood of emotions that swept over me. Professor Parker and La Voy were equally affected by this first smell of the lowlands, and we were wet-eyed and chattered like children as we prepared our packs for the last stage of our journey."
How dangerous was the climatic condition of the mountain may be judged from what happened on the evening of 6th July. From their camp in the foothills they saw the sky suddenly turn a sickly green. There came a deep rumbling from the Alaskan range, and as they looked the mountains melted into mist and the earth began to heave and roll. In front of them a boulder weighing 200 lbs. broke loose from the earth and moved. The surface of the hills seemed to open and the cracks to spout liquid mud. The whole range was wrapped in dust, and as it cleared they saw the peaks spouting avalanches. Had this earthquake overtaken them on the high ground all must have perished.
III
The story has always seemed to me one of the boldest and most patient adventures in the history of mountaineering. Slowly the travellers fought their way to the discovery of the only practical route. Mount McKinley was conquered, though they had failed to cover the hundred or so feet which would have given them the actual summit. They had blazed the path to the top and solved its mysteries. Only that maleficent blizzard at the last moment robbed them of the full fruit of six years' pioneering.
Next year the actual summit was reached. The late Dr. Hudson Stuck, the Archdeacon of the Yukon, ever since he came to the country nine years before, had contemplated an attempt on the mountain. In the autumn of 1912 he sent on supplies by way of the Kantishna River to a point fifty miles from the base. In March, 1913, he and Mr. W. P. Karstens set out to reach the peak from the north. At their base camp, 4,000 feet up, they made a fresh supply of caribou pemmican which proved more satisfactory than that used by Professor Parker and Mr. Belmore Browne. The road taken was the same as that of their predecessors—up the Muldrow Glacier and then up the central North-East ridge. They found that the earthquake of 1912 had completely changed the character of that ridge, and instead of being a reasonable snow gradient, it had become a confused mass of rock and ice, most difficult to surmount. Bit by bit they forced their way up it till they reached the upper basin, and then, being favoured with clear, bright, still weather, they managed to attain the highest point, the southern summit. There had been a story of two miners, called McGonogall and Anderson, who had reached the top in 1910. Dr. Stuck discovered that the top they had reached was the lesser northern peak, for he saw the remains of their flagstaff.
With this ascent the story of the conquest of Mount McKinley is complete.*
* Dr. Stuck argued with much reason that the present name of the mountain is unsuitable, and that the Indian name "Denali"—which means "the Great One"—should be restored. It is to be feared that the suggestion comes too late in the day. Ever since the expedition of 1906 Mount McKinley has become too familiar a name in the Western Hemisphere to be readily changed for another. The story of the Parker-Browne expedition is contained inThe Conquest of Mount McKinley(New York, Putnams, 1913), and that of Dr. Stuck inThe Ascent of Denali(New York, Scribners, 1914).
THE HOLY CITIES OF ISLAM
(Map, p. 216.)
The "spell of far Arabia" has been a potent thing from the days when the Egyptians drew wealth from the spice-land of Punt, and Greek traders brought stories of the gums and jewels of Araby the Blessed. But ever since it became the Holy Land of Islam a veil of secrecy, other than that of its stern climate and inhospitable deserts, has descended upon it. It is one of the oldest of arenas of adventure, and it is still one of the least exploited; indeed, in its great Southern Desert it holds one of the few unriddled mysteries of the globe. Except for the semi-mythical Gregorio, who may be read of in Albuquerque's Commentaries, no one who did not profess the creed of Islam has entered its two Holy Cities and lived. But the greatest tale of Arabian exploration is not concerned with Mecca and Medina. It is to be found rather in the journeys of the English soldier Captain Sadlier in Nejd; of Sir Richard Burton in the land of Midian; of Wallin, who crossed the great Nafud sands; of William Gilford Palgrave, who may, or may not, have been an agent of Napoleon III.; and, above all, of Charles Montague Doughty, who, as an avowed Christian, explored the Northern Hedjaz, and in hisArabia Desertahas written one of the foremost classics of travel in the English tongue.
Compared with some of these wanderings, a visit to the Holy Cities was a simple matter, requiring only a firm nerve, a good knowledge of Arabic and of Mohammedan ritual, and a real or professed adherence to the creed of Islam. At the beginning of this century the list of Europeans who had entered Mecca and Medina was a long one. They were mostly renegades—French, English, Irish, Scottish, and Italian. In 1807 a certain Domingo Badia y Leblich of Cadiz, travelling as a Moslem prince called Ali Bey, and probably in the pay of Napoleon, entered Mecca in state; but he had become a genuine Mussulman. In 1815 one Thomas Keith, a deserter from the 72nd Highlanders, was Governor of Medina—surely one of the strangest posts ever held even by a Scot! The great European travellers like Burckhardt, Wallin, and Burton went to the Holy Cities in order that by attaining the rank and fame of a Hadji they might win an advantage for travelling in other Moslem lands. More than one of them has described minutely the interior of both Mecca and Medina and the ritual of the great ceremonies. The Holy Places, though few Western eyes had seen them, were sufficiently well known to the Western world. Their true unveiling may be said to have come about during the Great War, when Hussein, the Sherif of Mecca, fought as an ally with the British, and, as King of the Hedjaz, proclaimed his independence of Turkey.
Yet one journey was taken just before the Great War which must rank by itself. It told the world nothing that was not known before; but it had the merit of giving a picture of Mecca and Medina under the latest conditions—a picture drawn with such vigour and in such detail that it may fairly claim to have revealed the Holy Cities in a new light to the ordinary man.
Mr. A. J. B. Wavell greatly distinguished himself in command of Arab scouts in East Africa in the early part of the Great War, and was responsible for the brilliant affair at Gazi. In that campaign he gave his life for his country.* He had been at Winchester, and in 1908, when he made the plan for visiting Mecca, had been living for some time at Mombasa, where he had acquired Arabic and Swahili, and a considerable knowledge of Moslem customs. His motive was partly curiosity, partly, as he says, to accustom himself to Arab ways, with a view to further explorations in Arabia, and partly in order to obtain the useful prestige of a Hadji. He chose as his companions a certain Abdul Wahid, an Arab from Aleppo who was established in Berlin, and Masaudi, a Mombasa native. The three met at Marseilles on September 23, 1908. They started in good time, for though the pilgrimage was not to take place till the beginning of the following January, Mr. Wavell wanted to go first to Medina, and also to prepare himself by a preliminary discipline in Eastern life. He managed to secure a Turkish passport, which described him as one Ali bin Mohammed, aged twenty-five, a subject of Zanzibar on his way to Mecca.
* He fell on January 8, 1916.
The three found a vessel at Genoa which took them to Alexandria, where they managed, not without trouble, to get their medicine chest, pistols, and ammunition past the Customs. They then took passages on a Khedivial mail ship for Beyrout. Mr. Wavell had feared that the language difficulty would be serious, but he found it less formidable than he expected, since the dialects of Arabic are many. He explained to those who found imperfections in his accent that in Zanzibar the colloquial language was Swahili and that no one talked Arabic; and on the few occasions when he had to speak Swahili he inverted the story, announcing that, having been born in Muscat, his real language was Arabic. As Sir Richard Burton discovered in his own journey, it was rare indeed to find any one sufficiently well acquainted with both languages to find him out. Meantime he had changed at Alexandria into Arab clothes and shaved his head.
Wavell's Journey to Mecca.Wavell's Journey to Mecca.
They reached Beyrout safely, and proceeded at once by rail to Damascus. As they did not propose to start for Medina for some weeks, they took rooms and settled down, devoting great attention to the various Moslem ceremonies, and picking up the right kind of phrases and quotations and greetings. It is on such small things that the efficacy of a disguise depends. "There are nearly as many white men at Mecca," Mr. Wavell writes in his account of his adventures,* "as there are men black or brown in colour. Syrian 'Arabs' not infrequently have fair hair and blue eyes, as likewise have some of the natives of the Holy Cities themselves. I was once asked what colour I stained myself for this journey. The question reveals the curious ignorance that lies at the bottom of the so-called race prejudice, of which some people are so proud. You might as well black yourself all over to play Hamlet!"
*A Modern Pilgrim in Mecca, by A. J. B. Wavell (Constable, 1912).
Abdul Wahid had brought letters of introduction to a local merchant, who was most hospitable, and supervised the preparations for the journey. They passed safely through the period of Ramadan, and so complete was Mr. Wavell's get-up, and so stalwart his Moslem respectability, that it was with some difficulty that he prevented a middle-aged lady and her two daughters from joining his party for the pilgrimage. He bought the "Ihram," the white robes which are required when entering Mecca, a full camp equipment, and a certain number of stores, and deposited his money with his merchant friend, who gave him two cheques on his agents, one at Medina and one at Mecca. He proposed to travel to Medina by the Hedjaz railway, a very different method from those used by earlier adventurers when aiming at Mecca.
The third-class carriages were desperately crowded, and the train started to the accompaniment of gramophones—a modern invention which is very popular in the Hedjaz. On the way Mr. Wavell had a touch of malaria, and his fellow pilgrims showed him every kindness. Presently the train reached Medain Salih, the boundary of the Hedjaz, which no infidel is permitted to pass. On the fourth day the rocky hills opened, and through a gap appeared the minarets of the Prophet's mosque. They arrived at Medina in the middle of a battle, for the Turkish garrison had come to loggerheads with the neighbouring Bedawin, and the Holy City was more or less in a state of siege. The railway was spoiling trade for the neighbouring tribes, and they were demanding compensation, which Constantinople would not pay.
Medina lies in an open plain some 3,000 feet above sea-level. To the south the country is open, but on the north and west, between five and ten miles distant, rise rocky mountains. The city, which has a population of some 30,000, lives entirely on the pilgrims, as an English watering-place lives on summer visitors. The pilgrims are classified by their lands of origin, and there are official guides, called Mutowifs, attached to each group. The first trouble arose from these guides. If Mr. Wavell went about with the Zanzibar Mutowifs he was certain to meet some one who knew him in Mombasa, even if he were not caught out in the language. So it was arranged that Abdul Wahid should profess to come from Bagdad, while Mr. Wavell passed as "a Derweish," and Masaudi as his slave. A "Derweish," which denotes properly a member of certain monastic orders, is a title occasionally assumed by pilgrims who do not wish to be identified with any particular nationality.
Happily, at the station there were no Zanzibar guides, and the party were able to find rooms in a retired corner at the moderate rate of £2 a month. The landlord was an Abyssinian called Iman, a man of some private means, who had been captured as a child by Arab slavers and sold in Mecca. He proved a most useful friend to the party during their stay.
So began a curious life of endless religious observations. Apart from the sacred places, which few European eyes had beheld, there was a perpetual interest in the study of the pilgrims. "A large caravan came in from Yembu, bringing crowds of Indians, Javanese, and Chinamen. Every Eastern race might be identified in the motley crowd, and every variety of costume, till the whole resembled nothing so much as a fancy dress ball. In the same line of prayer stand European Turks, with their frock coats and stick-up collars; Anatolians, with enormous trousers and fantastic weapons; Arabs from the West, who look as if they were arrayed for burial; the Bedou (Bedawin), with their spears and scimitars; and Indians, who, in spite of their being the richest class there, managed, as usual, to look the most unkempt and the least clean. Then, besides, were the Persians, Chinese, Javanese, Japanese, Malayans, a dozen different African races, Egyptians, Afghans, Baluchies, Swahilis, and 'Arabs' of every description." Representatives of half the races of the globe may be picked out in the mosque any day during the month before the pilgrimage.
The behaviour of the pilgrims, who now saw with their own eyes the tomb of the Prophet, which from their childhood they had been taught to regard with awe, was a proof of the living reality of the Islamic faith. "Many burst into tears and frantically kissed the railings: I have seen Indians and Afghans fall down apparently unconscious. They seem to be much more affected here than before the Kaaba itself. At Mecca the feeling is of awe and reverence; here the personal element comes in. The onlooker might fancy that they were visiting the tomb of some dear friend, one whom they had actually known and been intimate with in his lifetime. With frantic interest they listen to their guides as they describe the surroundings. Here is the place where the Prophet prayed, the pulpit he preached from, the pillar against which he leant; there, looking to the mosque, is the window of Abu Bakar's house, where for long he stayed as a guest; and beyond is the little garden planted by his daughter Fatima." Moreover, there is no suggestion of infidel authority, the Moslem standards float over the town, Moslem cannon protect its gates, and no unbeliever may enter. But there are startling touches of modernity. In the shops you may buy European tinned goods and note advertisements of Cadbury's chocolates and Huntley and Palmer's biscuits!
The party had brought introductions from Damascus and Abdul Wahid had made various friends, so they saw a good deal of society. The time was just after the rising of the Young Turks and the grant of the Constitution. Mr. Wavell, who was a staunch Tory, found to his disgust that every one talked parliamentarianism and Liberal principles. England and the English were everywhere in high favour because of our attitude in the recent quarrel with Austria over the annexation of Bosnia. "I am afraid I managed to give the impression that Zanzibar is a sadly backward state, or that I myself am peculiarly stupid. Not to know a word of any European language is to be held very ignorant, even in Medina. Most people of the class with whom I associated had at any rate a smattering of French, and sometimes of English too. I was careful never to know anything."
Their stay in Medina was much enlivened by the Bedawin siege. Mr. Wavell tried to get enlisted in the defence force, and when that plan failed, succeeded in getting into a very warm corner just outside the gates. They visited like industrious tourists every possible place of interest, and few pilgrims can have spent a more enlightening three weeks. During the whole time they were never in real danger. They had, indeed, a scuffle with a Persian Mutowif, who would insist that Mr. Wavell was a Persian; but by vigorous bluffing they made him apologize, and afterwards employed him as a guide. Once only was there a hint of trouble. Masaudi, standing in the mosque one day before the noonday prayer, found himself face to face with five Mombasa Swahilis who knew him intimately, and, what was worse, knew Mr. Wavell. Masaudi showed remarkable gifts of mendacity. He said he had left Mr. Wavell in England, and having saved a little money thought the present was a good time to perform the pilgrimage. He was in Medina, he said, as a servant of some rich Egyptian pilgrims. As he walked back after prayer he dropped his string of beads. The Swahilis asked where his house was, and he promised to show it them; but half-way up the street he suddenly remembered the beads, bolted back, and lost himself in the crowd.
The incident convinced Mr. Wavell that he had better start without delay for Mecca. Their plan was to go to the coast at Yembu, for which a caravan was starting at once. They arranged for three camels, one to carry ashugduf, which is a cross between a pannier and a howdah, and the other two for luggage; and they bought the necessary food. They took with them a Persian called Jaffa as cook, and his brother Ibrahim as general servant. The luggage was carried down to the big square where the caravan was parked, and where the travellers had to pass the night. That evening there occurred an untoward event. Mr. Wavell was going to a shop for some small purchase, when he met two Mutowifs who demanded to know his nationality. The Mutowifs, being a strict trades union, were convinced that he was defrauding the brotherhood. He took a high line and showed his pistol, and, fortunately, his late landlord came down the street at the moment and took his side. What might have been an ugly experience ended in a minor street brawl.
View of Medina. (By permission of Messrs. Arch. Constable & Co., Ltd.)View of Medina.(By permission of Messrs. Arch. Constable & Co., Ltd.)
The journey to Yembu was little better than a nightmare. The fashionable road from Medina to Mecca is overland, or back to Damascus and so direct to Jiddah by the Suez Canal. Only poor people go by the Yembu route, which is supposed to be the most hazardous and the roughest in the Hedjaz. There were no escort or police arrangements, no daily market, and each traveller had to carry his own provisions and water. The Bedawin hired out the camels, which numbered about 5,000, and a Bedawi sheikh was in charge. The countryside was infested by robbers who constantly cut off stragglers. The ground, too, was difficult going, being a rough mountain-land, and, while the noons were scorching, the nights were bitterly cold. Every night an encampment was made, roughly circular in shape, into which the whole caravan was packed in the smallest possible space. "While I was trying to get warm a man stumbled against me and nearly knocked me into the fire. Turning round, I was shocked to see a figure, stained almost from head to foot with blood from a tremendous gash in the head, obviously a sword cut. He asked for water, and I went into the tent to get him some, but returning, found him gone. We heard the next day that no less than six men had been murdered that night and many others wounded; and so it went on till we reached Yembu. These unfortunates were mostly people who could not afford camels, and so had to perform the journey on foot. Straying from the main body in search of firewood they got picked up by the marauders hanging on the flanks, who seized every opportunity to plunder such stragglers of their miserable possessions, and killed unhesitatingly any who resisted."
It was in this country that Charles Doughty spent part of his time, and Mr. Wavell thinks that one reason of his success was that he carried nothing worth stealing. The fact that Doughty denied neither his religion nor his nationality seemed to him not the most remarkable fact about the achievement. "The Bedou themselves are not fanatical on these points, and he did not attempt to enter the forbidden cities. Of course, the fact of a stranger being a Christian is always a good excuse for knocking him on the head; but failing it they will soon find another if they want to do so, and will be quite uninfluenced by it if they don't."
They had one row with their camel man, Saad, who tried to extort bakhsheesh. Suddenly he quieted down, and became all politeness to the end of the journey. The reason for this was that that resourceful liar Ibrahim had told him that Mr. Wavell was a nephew of the Governor of Yembu. This story served the travellers well. It spread through the caravan, and many of the pilgrims who were being blackmailed by their camel-men came to him and begged his protection, and received it. At last, on the dawn of the sixth day, after trekking without a stop for the last twenty hours, they reached the gates of Yembu.
Here they were delayed some time, owing to the fact that the pilgrim ship to take them to Jiddah—an old Greek vessel chartered by a syndicate of Persians—would not start till its owners considered that sufficient pilgrims had arrived. Abdul Wahid now became the popular leader. At the head of a mob of passengers he seized the Persians and carried them off to the Governor. Mounted on a pile of sugar bags he delivered an impassioned address, concluding with "We had better be dealing with Christians than Moslems, who cheat their brethren in this fashion." "Murmurs of protest," says Mr. Wavell, "deprecated this revolting comparison. We all thought he was going a little too far." The Persians finally capitulated, and the ship got under way. But there came one lastcontretemps. A party of Megribi Arabs had passed the quarantine and were half-way out to the ship when one of them died. The shore authorities refused to let them land again and the Persians declined to take the corpse aboard. The Arabs could not throw it into the sea because there were certain ceremonial washings to be performed and certain prayers to be said. An Egyptian lawyer on board gave it as his opinion that the man, having taken his ticket, was entitled to his passage, dead or alive, there being no saving clause in the contract. Finally the Megribis got sick of arguing, swarmed over the bulwarks, and hoisted up their departed comrade. Their fierce faces and long knives settled the point of law.
At half-past four in the afternoon the syren blew to announce that the pilgrims were within that latitude where they must exchange their ordinary clothes for the Ihram—the garb which has to be worn by all travellers who attain a certain distance from Mecca. The costume consists of two white bath towels, one worn round the loins and the other over the shoulders. The head is unprotected, but deaths from sunstroke are singularly few. The costume is not becoming, especially in the case of a fat man. "A party of elderly European Turks close to us looked peculiarly ludicrous, their appearance suggesting members of the Athenæum Club suddenly evicted from a Turkish bath."
The party remained four days at Jiddah, visiting among other places the tomb of Eve, who apparently was about a quarter of a mile in height, so it was a tiring business to make the necessary perambulation of her sepulchre. Owing to their behaviour at Yembu they had acquired much kudos among the pilgrims and had no difficulties during their stay. The only anxiety was about the Mombasa Swahilis, and also about a certain Mombasa sheikh who knew Mr. Wavell and was proposing to go to Mecca that year. As neither sheikh nor Swahilis arrived, they decided to risk it and go on to Mecca, after Mr. Wavell had left a letter for the sheikh requesting him to hold his tongue. They found a Mutowif who was a local agent of one of the principal Mecca guides, to whom he wrote recommending them. They never intended to employ this guide, but the recommendation gave them an excuse to refuse to employ others. Having taken every precaution they could think of, they prepared for the last stage of the journey. "Abdul Wahid made a vow that if he returned safely he would present three dollars to the poor of Jiddah. We told him we thought he was asking the Almighty to do it too cheaply and that he had much better make it a sovereign. To our disgust, when he did get back, he utterly declined to disgorge the promised sum."
The journey from Jiddah to Mecca can be performed in a day, for it is only some forty miles. The road is protected by a line of blockhouses, every mile or so there is a restaurant or a booth for refreshment, and all day long during the pilgrimage season there is a continuous caravan. A strange silence broods over everything. There is no shouting or singing or firing of guns, and the camels move over the deep soft sand with scarcely a sound, for to the Moslem it is the approach to the holy of holies. "To him it is a place hardly belonging to this world, overshadowed like the Tabernacle of old by the almost tangible presence of the deity. Five times daily throughout his life has he turned his face towards this city, whose mysteries he is now about to view with his own eyes. Moreover, according to the common belief, pilgrimage brings certain responsibilities and even perils along with its manifold blessings. Good deeds in Mecca count many thousand times their value elsewhere, but sin that is committed there will reap its reward in hell." Mr. Wavell and his companions, decently but simply clad in their bath towels, approached the city repeating the ceremonial prayers. To one which began, "O Lord, Who hast brought me in safety to this place, do Thou bring me safely out again," he said a fervid "Amen."
Mecca lies in a deep-cut hollow of the hills, and is not visible till travellers are at its gates. Presently they found themselves in the great square which contains the Kaaba, the black covering of which is in startling contrast with the dazzling white marble of the pavement. The Kaaba itself is a cube about forty feet square, built of granite blocks, and let into the wall is a great black stone. This stone is believed to have fallen from heaven, which it probably did, as it is clearly a meteorite. Barefooted, the little party moved round it the requisite seven times, chanting the proper prayers. Then a small circular patch of hair was shaved from their heads, and the first part of the ceremony was over.
Mecca was then under the semi-independent rule of Sherif Hussein, and, on the whole, seemed to be well governed; but the problem of the municipal authorities in looking after the vast crowd of pilgrims was no easy one. As at Medina, every race on earth was represented there. Mr. Wavell was most struck by the Javanese, who were present in great numbers, for there was then a strong Islamic revival in the Far East. The party found comfortable lodgings in a quiet street, and, as at Medina, went much into society, owing to the wide acquaintance of Abdul Wahid. Mecca is one of the few places remaining where there is an open slave-market, and female slaves may be bought for prices ranging from £20 to £100, though Georgians and Circassians fetch more. Masaudi discovered an acquaintance in a boy called Kepi from Mombasa, whose father had died on the pilgrimage, and was now left destitute. Kepi was accordingly attached to the party. Mr. Wavell heard the good news that the Mombasa sheikh, whose coming he had been warned of, had now written saying that he would not arrive that year.
View of Mecca. (By permission of Messrs. Arch. Constable & Co., Ltd.)View of Mecca.(By permission of Messrs. Arch. Constable & Co., Ltd.)
The time passed pleasantly in sight-seeing and giving and receiving hospitality. Mr. Wavell gave one dinner to no less than twelve guests, which, since he had an excellent cook, was very successful. There are few more curious incidents in the literature of travel than this party given by a disguised Christian in the Moslem holy of holies to a company which included Arabs from Bussorah and Mecca, two Persian merchants, and a Turkish officer from the Bagdad Corps. Most Western luxuries can be obtained in Mecca, including ice cream, which, according to Mr. Wavell, is a frozen mixture of tinned milk, dirty water, and cholera germs! Alcoholic liquor can also be got if you know where to go for it.
The great festival was now approaching. A white linen band was fastened round the black covering of the Kaaba, which remained there till the great day, when the covering was changed. A new covering is brought every year from Egypt, made of dull black silk and cotton, embroidered with the name of God on every square foot. It is prepared in Constantinople, and is said to cost £3,600. The main ceremony of the festival is as follows: On a certain fixed day all adults must leave the city before nightfall, and go to a village called Mina, some five miles to the north. They pass the night there, and go nine miles farther on the next morning to Mount Arafat, where they remain till sunset. They then return, and sleep at Nimrah, half-way between Arafat and Mina. The third day they must be back at Mina in the morning, go through the ceremony of throwing stones at the Three Devils, proceed to Mecca for other ceremonies, and return to Mina for the night. The fourth day is spent at Mina, and at noon on the fifth day they return to Mecca. The bath towels of the Ihram are now relinquished, and the pilgrim dons the best new clothes which he can afford. He is then entitled to the name of Hadji, and thereafter through life can wear a special headgear, such as a green turban.
The exodus from the city to Mina was a strange sight. The different holy carpets were escorted by regiments and brass bands, that of Egypt marching to the tune of the "Barren Rocks of Aden." Sherif Hussein was there on horseback, accompanied by a crowd of spearmen and a squadron of racing camels. The ride to Mina beggared description. "The best idea of what it is like," Mr. Wavell wrote, "will be gained by considering that at least half a million people are traversing these nine miles of road between sunrise and ten o'clock this day; that about half of them are mounted, and that many of them possess baggage animals as well. The roar of this great column is like a breaking sea, and the dust spreads for miles over the surrounding country. When, passing through the second defile, we came in sight of Arafat itself, the spectacle was stranger still. The hill was literally black with people, and tents were springing up around it, hundreds to the minute, in an ever-widening circle. As we approached, the dull murmur caused by thousands of people shouting the formula, 'Lebéka, lebéka, Allahooma lebéka,' which had long been audible, became so loud that it dominated every other sound. In the distance it sounded rather ominous, suggestive of some deep disturbance of great power, like the rumble of an earthquake."
The hygienic conditions of the exodus were of course abominable. Tanks and springs were soon fouled by people bathing in them, and the condition of the hill-side was filthy beyond description. Often some infectious disease like cholera decimates the pilgrims, but our travellers were fortunate in escaping it. They went through all the proper ceremonies, and stoned the Three Devils at Mina with gusto. The Three Devils are three stone pillars, and, in a mob of many thousands of bad shots, a good many pilgrims are bound to suffer. They bought a sheep to sacrifice, like the others, and a mess of offal and blood was soon added to the attractions of the countryside. They then went back to Mecca, kissed the Black Stone, had another square inch of hair shaved from their temples, and were free to put off the bath towels. Now was the moment for the new clothes. Abdul Wahid appeared in a bilious yellow garment brought from Damascus; Masaudi in an obsolete regimental mess waistcoat; while Mr. Wavell was chastely arrayed in white cloth robes, a black jubba, and a gold sash with a dagger.
Thus attired they set out again for Mina for the last ceremonies. In the night a thief got into their tent, and carried off Masaudi's new turban, £5 in gold, and various oddments, including a couple of pistols. In the morning they went to salute the Sherif, and when they had returned and were sitting in their tent, passed through the most dangerous moment of the adventure. The wall of the tent was down, as is usual in the heat of the day, and they were squatting on the carpet, when suddenly they heard an exclamation from Masaudi. Looking round, they saw, standing within a few feet of them and looking straight into the tent, three of the Mombasa Swahilis whom they had met at Medina. It scarcely seemed possible that they could miss seeing Masaudi, and if they did they would certainly come into the tent to greet him, when Mr. Wavell was bound to be recognized. The morning sun, however, was shining right in their eyes, so they saw nothing, and passed on. As soon as they had turned their backs Mr. Wavell and Masaudi ran out of the tent on the other side and mingled with the crowd. They returned to Mecca, to be congratulated by their friends on the successfully accomplished pilgrimage, and Mr. Wavell was free to go into the world as Hadji Ali bin Mohammed.
It was now their business to get out of Mecca as soon as possible, especially as money was running low. They paid the necessary farewell visits, hired the transport, and started, intending to do the journey in one day. They were, however, held up by a sentry on the road, and had to spend a cold and comfortless night in the open, and did not enter Jiddah till sunrise. At Jiddah they separated; Masaudi went to Mombasa, Abdul Wahid to Persia, and Mr. Wavell to Egypt.
In summing up the expedition, Mr. Wavell was disposed to attribute his success not to any histrionic gifts of his own, but to the ignorance of the inhabitants of the Holy Cities, and their lack of interest in the outside world, even the Islamic world. "There are so many different sects in Islam, and its adherents are found in so many different countries, that I seriously believe that if some one invented for himself a country and a language that did not exist at all, and journeyed thus to Mecca, no one there would know enough geography to find him out. Yet with all, they are quick enough in their way, and if some Mutowif would take the trouble to write a book on ethnography in its relation to the Islam of to-day, and classify the different races that come to Mecca, such a deception as I practised would become impossible." They did, as a matter of fact, excite a certain suspicion, and their two servants, though they were Persians and knew little Arabic, must have had their own views. The great assets of the travellers were their knowledge of Arabic and Moslem ceremonial, and the fact that Mr. Wavell took up his disguise long before he approached the Hedjaz. He considered that Medina was much the more dangerous place of the two, and that no traveller should go there who was not thoroughly at home in his oriental character.
Whatever may be said, the journey is one of extreme danger and delicacy, and demands not only great knowledge, but perpetual vigilance. It must be remembered that a European is all the time in the midst of a fanatical and devout people, and that the highest merit would be acquired by any one who might discover and denounce the unbeliever. In spite of every precaution there must be an enormous element of luck, and Mr. Wavell's conclusion is that his escape was due rather to a series of happy chances than to his own good management.
THE EXPLORATION OF NEW GUINEA
(Map, p. 248.)
Almost every part of the globe has suffered some change in the past century. It may have altered its appearance by settlement and cultivation and the growth of cities; or, if it still remains a wilderness, there are routes of commerce through it which bring it to the knowledge of the world. But the great island of New Guinea is almost as little changed to-day by the advent of white adventurers as when, in the year 1527, Jorge de Meneses, the Portuguese Governor of the Spice Islands, first landed on its swampy shores. In 1545, eighteen years later, it received the name by which it is known to-day. The Portuguese Empire decayed, and during the seventeenth century the Dutch appeared. In the eighteenth century many famous voyagers, like Dampier, Carteret, and Captain Cook, touched the island, and in the last century the rapid opening up of the world by travellers and missionaries bore fruit even in those remote seas. The Dutch held the western end; in 1884 Germany laid claim to the north-eastern part; and that same year the south-eastern section, which had been formally taken over in 1883 by Queensland, was annexed to the British Crown. In 1899 the Dutch boundary was delimited, and Holland, with the assent of the Powers, assumed direct control of her share. The one change to-day in these arrangements is that the former German section is now administered under mandate by the Commonwealth of Australia.
The first decade of this century saw great exploring activity on the part of all three European masters. The Dutch especially did excellent work, and Dr. Lorentz was the first man to reach the snows of the inland mountains. But few of the secrets of the island—geographical, zoological, and botanical—have yet been unriddled. The place is so remote from Europe, its climate is so deadly, its inhabitants so treacherous, and its forests and swamps so impenetrable, that exploration there is in many ways a more desperate undertaking than anywhere else on the globe.
I have selected two expeditions as an example of what the pioneer must undergo. In 1910 the Ornithologists' Union sent out an expedition to investigate the New Guinea fauna and collect specimens. Captain Cecil Rawling, whose thirst for the unknown was unquenchable, accompanied it on the geographical side, and Mr. A. F. R. Wollaston as medical officer. There was no proper survey equipment, as the mission was primarily one of naturalists. Ten Gurkhas were enlisted from India, and the Dutch Government supplied a certain number of Javanese troops. Coolies also were recruited in Java, who turned out to be hopelessly unsuitable both in physique and character for any serious travel in the wilds. The majority were about sixteen years of age, and they appeared in the jungle decently dressed in black frock coats and bowler hats!
The part selected was the southern coast of the Dutch territory, and it was Captain Rawling's hope that they would be able to penetrate to that belt of snow mountains, at the head of the coastal rivers, running from the Nassau Range in the west to Wilhelmina Peak in the east, where Dr. Lorentz had been the pioneer. Obviously it was vital to find a river which would take them direct to the hills. But they had no previous information to go upon, and were compelled to select their stream at random. Had they gone farther east, and chosen the Utakwa, they would have found a current navigable for an ocean-going steamer for seventeen miles from its mouth, and for launches for many miles more—a river, moreover, running directly from the highest snows of Mount Carstensz. As it was, they hit upon a river called the Mimika, a small jungle-fed stream rising in the low foothills sixty miles to the west of Carstensz, and twenty miles or so short of the main range. The Mimika, too, was full of endless windings and liable to sudden and violent floodings. Hence it was of little use to the expedition in the way of transport. This was the more regrettable since transport was the essence of the problem. From the foothills of the mountains to the sea lies a belt of forest like a barbed-wire entanglement. This forest is so dense that the cutting of a road can only progress at the rate of 100 yards a day. It is swampy, and often, in flood-time, under water, and filled with every form of noxious insect life. Unless this nightmare land can be circumvented by the use of a broad river channel, it must take even a strong party many months before they reach the base of the hills.
This was what happened to Captain Rawling. On January 26, 1910, after a base camp had been established at Wakatimi, not far from the Mimika mouth, he set off to ascend the river. Here is his description of the country:—
"It is quite impossible for any one who has not visited these parts of New Guinea to realize the density of the forest growth. The vegetation, through which only the scantiest glimpses of the sky can be obtained, appears to form, as it were, two great horizontal strata. The first comprises the giant trees, whose topmost boughs are 150 feet or more above the ground; the other, the bushes, shrubs, and trees of lesser growth, which never attain a greater height than 30 to 40 feet. Such is the richness of the soil that not one square foot remains untenanted, and the never-ending struggle to reach upwards towards the longed-for light goes on silently and relentlessly. Creepers and parasites in endless variety cling to every stem, slowly but surely throttling their hosts. From tree to tree their tentacles stretch out, seizing on to the first projecting branch and limb, and forming such a close and tangled mass that the dead and dying giants of the forest are prevented from falling to the ground....
"The various devices recommended in the books of one's childhood, and, it may be added, in learned books as well, whereby the traveller is enabled to recover a lost trail or regain the right direction, are here of no avail. For instance, moss does not grow more on one side of a tree-trunk than on the other; trees do not lean away from the prevailing wind; nor is the position of the sun a guide, for it is seldom visible. In fact, the traveller has nothing to rely upon but the compass or a local guide, and even the latter is often at fault. Hopeless indeed does the outlook appear when the wanderer, hedged in by a wall of scrub and creeper which limits his vision to a distance of ten or twelve yards, realizes that he has lost his bearings; when the vastness of the forest seems to press upon him, and there is no sound to be heard but the drip, drip of the water-laden trees and the bubbling of the stinking bog underfoot. His only chance of escape is to find a stream, and follow it down till it joins a main river."
The first big episode was the discovery of the Pygmies who lived in the foothills, and were assiduously hunted by the forest tribes. The average height of these little men was 4 feet 7 inches, and Captain Rawling penetrated to their village in a clearing above the head waters of the Mimika. The Mimika source was reached, but led them nowhere, and they fared no better with another small stream to the west, called the Kapare. Then by accident a secret native path was discovered running eastward—a mere tunnel in the matted forest. By this route they were able to reach a parallel river, called the Tuaba, which was a tributary of the larger Kamura. From a village called Ibo as a centre, the expedition made various casts east and north, but found it impossible to get near the skirts of the hills.
Captain Rawling returned to the coast and made excursions along the eastern shore, but found no adjacent river mouth which promised better. By this time it was June, and the floods began with such vigour that practically the whole country between the mountains and the sea was under water. When the floods ebbed, a resolute attempt was made to push east from Ibo, and with a good deal of trouble another parallel stream was reached, called the Wataikwa. The party founded a camp there, and explored the upper waters of that stream. Travelling was extremely difficult, because the only decent road was the river bed, and this route was promptly made impossible by a new spate. The travellers had to face the fact that the farther they went eastward the greater became the labour of carrying supplies, for their base camp remained on the Mimika.
Still, an effort must be made unless the expedition was to admit failure. It was decided that the best plan was to try and cut a road through the forest to the next stream on the east, in the hope that it would lead them into the hills. This was done, and the Iwaka River was reached after much severe toil. They had entered a desperate country, strewn with moss-covered boulders and seamed with gullies covered with an impenetrable mass of timber. The density of this growth was unbelievable; through it no man could force a way unless with an axe in hand, and as most of the trees were of very hard wood—the stems varying from four to eight inches in diameter—and clothed from top to bottom with damp earth covered with moss, progress at times became impossible. An idea of the labour involved in the task of clearing a two-foot path through this forest may be judged by the fact that a stretch of five thousand yards required three weeks' constant work before a man could pass freely along. On one day two cutters achieved a length of two hundred and ten yards, and on another, when Captain Rawling was working by himself, all he could add was a piece of ninety yards in length. No wonder he asks, "Can this forest, with its horrible monotony and impregnability, be equalled by any other in the world?"
The Exploration of New GuineaThe Exploration of New Guinea
Down came the rain again, and in August the country was all under water. The advance was not renewed till the beginning of 1911, when fresh supplies had arrived from England, and the old motor-boat had been put in repair. So far, a year's hard labour had not taken the explorers within measurable distance of their goal. With the help of a launch, food supplies for eight weeks were stored at the head of the Mimika. One story may be quoted as a piece of comic relief in a very grim campaign. On 4th January two men quarrelled in camp and killed each other.
"The sergeant who, by the way, was a foreigner, took charge of the burial ceremonials, and was evidently quite determined that, for his part, nothing should be lacking which the importance of the occasion demanded. Drawing his sword, and placing himself between the graves, he harangued the spectators. 'Men,' he said, 'this day two servants of the Government have lost their lives at the hands of each other. Were they not both good men? hein.' 'One man very bad man,' chipped in an officious convict, but a glance from the offended sergeant made him wish that he had never spoken. 'Whether they will both go to heaven I cannot say,' exclaimed he, 'but I think Allah'—pointing upwards with his sword—'will first purge them with a fire. Take this as a lesson.' Then, drawing himself up to his full height as befitted the occasion, he returned his sword with a clank to the scabbard, and, as far as the public was concerned, the ceremony was at an end. The sergeant, however, had not yet finished. Returning to his hut, he refreshed himself with a few glasses of gin, and played on the mouth-organ the national anthems of the three flags under which he had served. This terminated the funeral obsequies, and with the exception of the official report and the entry in the accounts 'To one bottle gin for disinfecting corpse,' nothing remained to mark the sanguinary affair."
The Iwaka was safely reached, and the last stage began. At first the advance was up its right bank, but this only brought the travellers back to the upper glen of the Wataikwa, which they had already found impossible. It was clear that the Iwaka must be crossed and the ridges to the east ascended. Getting over that stream was an ugly business, and it was achieved only by the heroism of one of the Gurkhas, who managed to haul himself hand over hand along a thin rope. Captain Rawling records that it was "one of the best actions carried out in cold blood that I have ever had the good fortune to witness." A rough bridge was constructed, and on the morning of February 8, 1911, thirteen months after their first landing on the coast, the party had at last a road to the upper ridges. It was thick, misty weather, and of the farther mountains they only had occasional glimpses. Camp was pitched at an altitude of 5,400 feet, but not on solid ground, for all the climbing had been done on the top of live or dead timber. The following morning they hacked their way to a clear space on the ridge at a height of 5,600 feet, and there they were at last favoured with the view for which they had longed, and were able to fix the position of the main peaks.
Looking southward they saw the sea, and between it and them the dark green of the forest through which they had struggled for so many months. The gloom was broken at rare intervals by a streak of light, which was a river. Nearly five miles away stood Mount Godman, and beyond it the huge southern face of the range, a gigantic black cliff, eighty miles from east to west, with a clear drop of nearly a mile and three-quarters—by far the greatest precipice in the world. Behind this scarp rose the snow mountains—Mount Leonard Darwin, to the north-west, 13,882 feet; and to the north-east Mount Idenburg, 15,379 feet, and the glittering top of Carstensz, which is almost 16,000 feet. The great peaks seemed, below, a mass of wild, black precipices, cleft with fissures; but, above, a long, easy snow-field, curving gently to the summits. It was such a view as the old Portuguese adventurers might have had when, after struggling for months through the coastal jungles, they suddenly came in sight of Kenya or Kilimanjaro. But for Captain Rawling and his party it would be no more than a Pisgah-sight. Advance was impossible. The fatal choice of the Mimika route meant that they had taken the worst road conceivable to the great snows. The attainment of the peaks must be left to their successors. He who would understand the full difficulties and miseries of that expedition must read Captain Rawling's own narrative.*
*The Land of the New Guinea Pygmies, by Captain C. G. Rawling (Seeley, Service, and Co., 1913).
Rarely has a more thoroughly comfortless expedition been undertaken. To begin with, the food was bad and unsuitable, for they had the surplus stores from Shackleton's Antarctic expedition, and the joys of bully-beef, pea-soup, and pickles under an equatorial sky may be imagined. It was impossible to get good local assistance, for the natives were a preposterous race, treacherous and unreliable when they were not actively malevolent. They were subject to sudden panics, when they fled to the jungle, and to wild outbursts of sorrow, when they would weep and sob for hours. The imported Javanese were, if possible, more hopeless. Then there was every kind of noxious insect—mosquitoes without end, gigantic leeches dangling from every leaf which made a speciality of attacking the eyeballs, ticks, stinking caterpillars, immense blue-bottles which swarmed in clouds over any food left uncovered, crickets which ate a man's clothes up in a night, and a plague of minute bees which settled in myriads on the heated face of the traveller. Above all, there was the rain. The whole country was water-logged by the flooding rivers and the incessant deluge. In the dry season the average rainfall was about two and a half inches a day! Mr. Wollaston took the trouble to keep a meteorological diary, and found that during the first year rain fell on 330 days, and that on 295 days it was accompanied by thunder and lightning. Of the 400 men of all races employed during the first year, 12 per cent. died in the country from hardships, and 83 per cent. of the total force was invalided from New Guinea. Of the Europeans and natives who landed during that year, only eleven lasted out the whole fifteen months of the expedition. Of these eleven, four were Europeans, four Gurkhas, two Javanese soldiers, and one a convict. When it is remembered that eight months is the maximum period allowed by the Dutch authorities for continued service in New Guinea, the marvel is that these eleven escaped with their lives. It was with no regret that Captain Rawling said farewell to what must be by far the most unpleasant land on earth. "Wild shrieks had greeted us on our first arrival in the country, and wild shrieks echoed down the still reach of the river as the boats crept towards the sea."
New Guinea Canoes. [It was in such canoes that Mr. Staniforth Smith made part of his journey.] (By permission of Messrs. Seeley, Service, & Co.)New Guinea Canoes.[It was in such canoes that Mr. Staniforth Smith made part of his journey.](By permission of Messrs. Seeley, Service, & Co.)
Mount Carstensz still awaits its conqueror. Since the Rawling expedition much has been done in the exploration of the central mountains. In 1913 Mount Wilhelmina (15,580 feet), of which Dr. Lorentz had trodden the lower snows, was finally ascended by Captain Herderschee. In 1921 Captain Kremer reached the same summit from the north, and found a means of crossing the range at a height of 13,480 feet. A German expedition under Dr. Moszkowski, which was projected in 1913 to attempt Carstensz from the north, was stopped by the war. Meantime, in September, 1912, Mr. Wollaston, Captain Rawling's companion, had returned to New Guinea and ascended the Utakwa River. Its head waters led him direct to Carstensz, and by establishing a series of depots for food in the foothills, he was able to reach the main massif of the mountain. Above 8,000 feet he left the jungles behind; but the mountain proved very difficult, and the rain, as usual, fell without intermission. At 14,200 feet he reached the snow-line, and on February 1, 1913, from a camp above 12,000 feet, he climbed to 14,866 feet, a thousand feet or so below the summit. There he was stopped by an ice fall, and lack of provisions and the weakness of his party prevented him from finding a way to turn it. The top of the mountain is an ice cap which breaks down very sheer on the south side, and Mr. Wollaston is of opinion that the easiest ascent would be from the north. This closes for the present the history of the exploration of Carstensz.
For the second story we move east into British territory. There the general configuration is the same—swamps near the shore, then a tangled forest, then a range of inland mountains, though these are much less conspicuous than the ranges in Dutch territory, and scarcely rise above 6,000 feet. In 1911 the Hon. Miles Staniforth Smith, who had been Mayor of Kalgoorlie, and a senator representing West Australia in the Commonwealth Parliament, and was at the time Administrator of Papua, set out across the centre of the unexplored part of his province to investigate the sources of the rivers emptying into the Papuan Gulf. As the travelling was of the roughest, and the aim was exploration rather than scientific research, the party was kept very small—three white men, Mr. Staniforth Smith, Mr. Bell, the Chief Inspector of Native Affairs, and Mr. Pratt, a Staff Surveyor, together with eleven native police and seventeen carriers. They started from the head of the navigable waters of the Kikor or Aird River, meaning to push north to the top of Mount Murray, and then traverse to the west along the ridge. Mount Murray, which is some 6,000 feet high, was safely reached, and the explorers found themselves moving along a high limestone plateau, much fissured by streams and diversified by parallel ranges. They hoped ultimately to reach the Strickland River, which is a tributary of the great Fly River, and so complete the rest of their journey by rafts.
Presently they found such a river running in a deep gorge, and from certain rapids which had been noted by earlier explorers, they assumed it to be the Strickland. Now began their adventures. The stream seemed to be a series of wild rapids; but as the Strickland had already been descended in rafts, the risks appeared to be justifiable, and four rafts were built. Mr. Staniforth Smith started out first with three police and two carriers, and Mr. Bell and Mr. Pratt arranged to follow in quick succession with the rest. In two hundred yards the first raft was upset, but its occupants managed to hang on. Instead of the rapids disappearing they grew worse, and after four or five wild miles the party dashed into a timber block. One of the natives was so seriously injured that he died next morning. Mr. Staniforth Smith then started to go back along the river, in the hope of joining his companions, but found that he was on an island with swift streams on either side. Next morning the party tried to ford the river, and with some difficulty succeeded. As they were cutting a track up a bank they met two of the police, who had lost their rifles, and who informed them that Mr. Bell and Mr. Pratt were on the other bank of the river, and that several of the carriers had been drowned. The party had now been two days without food, so Mr. Staniforth Smith resolved to turn and travel down the stream in the hope of finding smoother water and a native village. They had no means of making a fire, and in any case there were no sago or bread-fruit trees in the neighbourhood.
New Guinea Pygmies contrasted with ordinary Natives. (By permission of Messrs. Seeley, Service, & Co.)New Guinea Pygmies contrasted with ordinary Natives.(By permission of Messrs. Seeley, Service, & Co.)
For five and a half days the explorers hacked their way downstream. During all that time they had no food of any kind, and no shelter from torrential rains except a few palm leaves. On the sixth day, after travelling twenty miles, they saw natives on the opposite bank. They built a rough raft and managed to cross. It was just in time, for they were now utterly exhausted; but the food which the natives gave them revived them. Curiously enough, as they were at their meal the party of Mr. Bell and Mr. Pratt came out of the jungle. They had, if possible, suffered even worse disasters. Both the white men, though powerful swimmers, had been nearly drowned, and seven of the carriers had lost their lives. They would certainly have perished had they not had the luck the day before to shoot a wild pig.
By this time it was clear that whatever stream they were on it was not the Strickland, for the Strickland flowed south-west, and this river ran nearly due east. The natives, who had never seen a white man before, took them to their village and treated them kindly. The good repute of the British official throughout the wilds now stood them in good stead. They hoped that the river would soon be clear of rapids; but to their consternation there was nothing but gorges and whirlpools for another hundred miles. The stream was the Kikor in its middle reaches, the same stream as they had ascended from the coast. It took them twenty-nine days to pass the hundred miles of gorges, and during that time they rarely had a full meal. On one occasion the whole party worked for seven days without getting anything to eat except a few handfuls of soup-powder and a few tins of cocoa, saved from the capsized rafts. They had no matches, so they had to keep a fire burning day and night. They slept in caves and under palm leaves, which made no pretence of keeping out the rain.
By the twenty-ninth day the river seemed smooth enough for rafts, and the explorers again embarked, and managed to cover fifty miles without any serious misadventure. But next day the rapids began again, and their two canoes, made of hollow logs, were upset. They descended the rapids for ten miles, hanging on to the upturned logs, before they could land. That night they spent in the rain, without food; and starting again at daybreak, they suddenly saw, to their immense relief, European tents, and were welcomed by an officer of the constabulary, who had been sent out to look for them. They had reached the exact spot from which they had struck north to Mount Murray at the beginning of their journey! When, two days later, they arrived at the coast, they had travelled in fifteen weeks approximately 524 miles through utterly unknown country—374 miles on foot and 150 by river.
Mr. Staniforth Smith encountered every misfortune that can meet the traveller except one—he had no trouble with the natives. Indeed, by his tact and patience he made friends everywhere with the bushmen, and the survivors of the party owed to them their lives. By some strange system of bush telegraphy the repute of the white men was spread from village to village. It was the one piece of good fortune that befell the explorers, and it was final in its effect, for it made the difference between life and death. I do not know any narrative of exploration which contains adventures more desperate than those whirling voyages on upturned rafts through black ravines; or that month when starving men hacked their way through the jungle along the torrent's bank in a perpetual tempest of rain.*
* For this journey Mr. Staniforth Smith received in 1923 the gold medal of the Royal Geographical Society.
MOUNT EVEREST
(Map, p. 272.)
I
The Himalaya not only contain the loftiest peaks on the globe, but can boast at least eighty summits loftier than those of any other range. The Andes come next, but their highest point, Aconcagua, is only 23,060 feet. In the huge mountain land which bounds India on the north, and which stretches as great a distance as from the English Channel to the Caspian, there are more than eighty peaks above 24,000 feet, some twenty above 26,000, and six above 27,000. Mount Everest, the highest, is, according to the latest measurements, 29,140 feet high. Its true character was not always recognized. At one time Chimborazo, in the Andes, was thought to "outsoar Himalay." In the middle of last century Kanchenjunga, which fills the eye of the traveller who looks north from Darjeeling, was believed to be the loftiest of the world's mountains. At that time officers of the Indian Government were conducting the great Trigonometrical Survey, during which they discovered a summit for which they could find no native name, and which they labelled Peak XV. In 1852, when the observations had been worked out, an official rushed breathlessly into the room of the Surveyor-General in Calcutta with the news that Peak XV. proved to be 29,002 feet high, and was therefore the chief mountain in the world. As its native name was unknown, it was called after Sir George Everest, who had been in charge of the survey. The name is beautiful in itself, and may well stand; though, had the circumstances been otherwise, there would have been much to be said for the Tibetan name, "Chomolungmo," which means "Goddess Mother of the Mountains."
The ascent of Everest was a project which only slowly entered into men's minds. When the great peak was first discovered mountaineering was still in its infancy, and for a generation afterwards climbers were preoccupied with the Alps. Then mountaineers began to look farther afield, and first the Caucasus and then the Andes were conquered, till some thirty years ago the ambitious began to turn their eyes to the Himalaya. Gradually the limit of achievement on high snows was extended. On Trisul, Dr. Longstaff in ten and a half hours ascended from 17,450 feet to the summit of 23,360 feet. On Kamet, Mr. Charles Meade took coolies up to a camp of 23,600 feet. The Duke of the Abruzzi, after his ascent of Ruwenzori, attacked, with a splendidly equipped party, K2, that icy lump in the Karakoram, the second highest of the world's mountains, and reached a height of 24,600 feet, which, till the year 1921, remained the world's record. In 1920 Dr. Kellas found that on reasonable snow he could ascend at a rate of 600 feet an hour above 21,000 feet. It was inevitable that, when the Great War was over, lovers of high places should fix their thoughts on Everest.
It had long been a dream of mountaineers. Lord Curzon, when Viceroy of India, had suggested the exploration of Everest to the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club. But there were political difficulties connected with the journey through Tibet or Nepal, and even a reconnaissance of the mountain proved impossible. Cecil Rawling (who fell at the Third Battle of Ypres as a Brigadier-General with the 21st Division), during his journey in 1904 to the head waters of the Brahmaputra, saw for the first time, from a distance of sixty miles, the north side of Everest, and believed that it might be climbed. I well remember how in the year before the war he and I planned an expedition which was to cover two seasons, and explore that northern side. In March, 1919, Captain Noel urged the Royal Geographical Society to undertake the work, and Sir Francis Younghusband, the President of the Society in the following year, in conjunction with the Alpine Club, entered into negotiations with the Government of India. Permission was obtained from the Tibetan authorities, and in January 1921 a Joint Committee of the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club proceeded to organize an expedition.
There were many to ask what was the use of such an enterprise, which would be costly, difficult, and certainly dangerous. The answer is that it was no earthly use, and that in that lay its supreme merit. The war had called forth the finest qualities of human nature, and with the advent of peace there seemed a risk of the world slipping back into a dull materialism. Men had begun to ask of everything its cash value, and to cherish, as if it were a virtue, a narrow utilitarian commonsense. To embark upon something which had no material value was a vindication of the essential idealism of the human spirit. In Sir Francis Younghusband's words, "The sight of climbers struggling upwards to the supreme pinnacle would have taught men to lift their eyes to the hills—to raise them off the ground and divert them, if only for a moment, to something pure and lofty and satisfying to that inner craving for the worthiest which all men have hidden in their souls. And when they see men thrown back at first, but returning again and again to the assault, till, with faltering footsteps and gasping breaths, they at last reach the summit, they will thrill with pride. They will no longer be obsessed with the thought of what mites they are in comparison with the mountains—how insignificant they are beside their material surroundings. They will have a proper pride in themselves, and a well-grounded faith in the capacity of spirit to dominate material."