PEKIN.
PEKIN.
BACK TO INDIA—DISILLUSIONMENT OF OUR FOLLOWERS WITH REGARD TO SOME OF THE BLESSINGS OF CIVILIZATION—MILITARY HOSPITALITY—RETURN TO CALCUTTA.
We had just got into our fresh quarters when our carters turned up. They had received a severe beating for their carelessness, and had then been released. We paid them both off, and were not sorry at the thought of having seen the last of the Chinese muleteer.
At dinner that night we met a Mr. Denbigh, who is engaged in large business transactions in Saghalien, Vladivostock, and Japan, and who was now supplying sleepers for the new railway to Pekin. He made a most tempting offer, which we could not accept, namely, that we should accompany him in a ship he had chartered, run over in her to Japan, and then either go on in her to Canton, or change into one of the regular liners to Shanghai and Hong Kong. Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, we went with Mr. Denbigh to try and fit ourselves out with some new clothes, but we did not succeed in getting much beyond stockings and shoes. We then went to the office of Messrs. Forbes & Co., and presented our letters, showing the amount we had drawn from their various agents, and settled the account in English money.
In the afternoon we met Mr. W. H. Forbes, an Edinburgh man, who told us that our quickest route would be to go by a steamer belonging to Messrs. Butterfield and Swire, calledtheNanchang, one of the very few running direct to Hong Kong. This would save several days, but would not allow of our seeing Shanghai; but time outweighed all other considerations, and we practically decided at once to adopt this course. In the evening we dined with Surgeon-Major Henston and the mess of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Company, being treated on all hands with the greatest possible kindness.
Next morning we finally decided to go by theNanchangdirect to Hong Kong, and, with a view to this, we went round to Messrs. Butterfield and Swire's office. Here we learnt that, by taking the midday train to Tong Ku, we should get on board comfortably before dark. This sounded simple enough, but we still had something to learn with regard to Chinese travelling.
From Tientsin to Tong Ku is about thirty miles, and two trains run daily each way. Ships can come up the river as far as Tientsin, but, at this time of year, they seldom care to run the risk of being frozen in. We arrived at the railway station in good time, and there found a scene of the most horrible confusion. As soon as the train came alongside the platform, there was a general rush for the carriages, and every seat was taken. Not being accustomed to this sort of thing, we got left, but by the kindness of a Dr. Irwin, and a very nice Chinese official, we managed to put our servants and our baggage into an open waggon, while we ourselves travelled in the brake van.[21]
There was a bitterly cold wind blowing, fortunately at our backs, so we kept the brake door open for fresh air only having to shut it when the train stopped. Had the wind been against us, our servants would have had a very poor time. We found, however, that we had a great pull overpeople in the carriages, for we had a stove on which we roasted chestnuts the whole way to Tong Ku.
The Chinese gentleman to whom we were indebted for our seat in the train had been educated in America and spoke English fluently; he was a very go-ahead man, and was very anxious that the management of the railway should be put into the hands of foreigners, as the Chinese officials were quite helpless. But, with all his admiration for foreign products, he said that there was one thing he could get in China to suit him, and nowhere else, that was "spectacles." He certainly wore a splendid pair, for which he had given Ts.80—a very heavy price, but the glasses were extraordinarily good.
This was the first railway Esau and Lassoo had ever seen. They had long been looking forward to it, and had asked us many questions as to how the train moved, etc., but I am afraid their first experience was not an encouraging one.
On our arrival at Tong Ku, we heard that theNanchanghad gone outside the bar to complete her cargo, but no one could tell us how to get out to her. After walking for about a mile we came to the end of the wharf, and, by pure good luck, found a tug just on the point of leaving. "Where is theNanchang?" we shouted. "I'm going to take a lighter out there at once; look sharp, if you're coming on board," was the reply. The tug began to move, but our repeated shouts brought it to a standstill. The pilot was an impatient man, and our coolies who carried our goods were tardy men, so that we just, and only just, managed to tumble our things and ourselves on board before the tug was in motion again.
As soon as our pilot had tugged us out alongside the lighter, he advised us to go aboard it with our luggage, and as we knew theNanchang'scargo was on board also, we felt we could not be left behind. The pilot, too, promisedthat if he could not get us alongside theNanchangthat night, he would take us ashore to the hotel at Taku. It was bitterly cold as we scrambled from the tug into the lighter, and whilst our servants barricaded themselves from the cruel blast with our boxes and rugs, Malcolm and I gladly stepped below and partook of the small space available, and of the rough though kind hospitality of the uncouth Chinese crew. As we felt ourselves being tugged out to sea it grew colder and colder. At length, soon after nightfall, to our dismay, the pilot faithlessly deserted us. Visions of beds at the Taku Hotel vanished, to be replaced by the flow of wrath we would let the pilot have on the morrow. The only course left to us was to make the best of our situation. As we had made no provision for food, we asked our rough hosts, by signs, what they could give us for dinner. This finally was served up, consisting of tea and monkey-nuts. We smiled at one another as we did ample justice to our last Chinese meal, and prayed that we might never fare worse.
I don't know how long I had slept, but suddenly I awoke. There was considerable hubbub aloft, and somehow I felt that we were dragging our anchor and drifting out to sea. Rushing up on deck, I found the wind was blowing so hard that, instead of an anchor, we were using a bit of a sail, and that after all I had needlessly left the warmth below. Soon after daybreak we saw a tug coming towards us, but, alas! were unable to vent our wrath on our last night's pilot, for this one proved to be another tug. This quickly brought us alongside theNanchang, where we were at first pointed out as being two Russians, but further acquaintance with the hardy and kind-hearted skipper and hospitable officers soon dissolved their first opinion. TheNanchanghad comfortable quarters for two passengers, with a liberal table. The cargo consisted of Chinese wine, nuts and bones, which latter are utilised for some process in refiningsugar. We ourselves never approved of the process, for on a roughish day the odours from these bones were not always welcome.
The following morning, the 6th December, we rose to find ourselves almost blocked in with white drifting masses of ice—quite a Nansenic scene. It seemed as though we could have walked for miles over the sea. Our weather-beaten skipper far from cheered us when he began to narrate how, a year or two ago, he had been caught by the winter just in the same way, and his ship had been blocked for some months. He graphically told us how they used to walk to shore, and of the jolly parties they had at the Taku Hotel! Our heads, however, were turned in a different direction; we were bound to return to India with the least possible delay, and we shuddered to think of our fate. Providentially the weather changed, our last cargo of bones was brought on board, as well as a third and welcome passenger, Mr. Carville, of the Consulate Service. By 5p.m.we were once more under weigh, steaming some ten knots an hour.
Here, again, Esau and Lassoo began to enjoy a new experience, for they had never seen a big boat. Shahzad Mir had certainly seen one, though he had never made a voyage. Amongst other topics, on cold, still nights, on that vast expanse of unknown land, we had told them of the big ships, and their faces had brightened up as they pictured the leisure, comfort, and ample supply of everything that was in store for them. But, alas! the next morning, with a beam sea on, the three men lay prone, miserable, and unable to eat, while around lay the box of cigars we had provided them with. Poor fellows! they wished they were back again on the Chang, even along the shore of one of those dreary salt lakes. Though smiling at their unfortunate plight, we sincerely pitied them, and felt that it was but a poor return, after all the troubles andprivations they had undergone for us. We were heartily glad to find the beam sea was of but short duration, and with its abatement our three men revived sufficiently to enjoy the remainder of the voyage to Hong Kong.
LASSOO AND ESAU.
LASSOO AND ESAU.
Landing at Quarry Bay at daybreak on the 12th of December, we then embarked on a small steamer, which speedily carried us up the beautiful harbour to one of the wharfs. From thence we made our way to the Hong Kong Hotel, and learnt there was a boat, theSuisang, leaving for Calcutta that very day at noon.All thoughts of visiting Canton were put aside—before even we had managed to fit ourselves out for this last stage of our travels, we had embarked on board this fine boat; but whatever requirement we had been unable to procure during so short a time our generous skipper, Captain Galsworthy, was only too anxious to provide. Our voyage was as pleasant as it is possible for a voyage at sea to be.
On the 18th of December we touched at Singapore, where we thoroughly enjoyed the ever-ready hospitality of the 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade, who were quartered there. A dinner at mess, a stroll afterwards in the magnificent gardens, as we listened meanwhile to the music of their fine band, told us only too surely that our journey was drawing to a close.
On the 21st we touched at Penang, of well-known beauty, where the hospitality of the detachment of the Rifle Brigade quartered there was only equalled by that we had enjoyed at Singapore.
On Sunday, the 27th December, about 8a.m., we were waiting for a pilot to come and take us safely up the Hoogly. As we gingerly glided up this changeable river we passed several boats outward bound. From each we endeavoured, by shouting, to learn the latest news, namely, who had won the Viceroy's Cup. Finally, a sportsman from some cargo boat, determined that we should know, shouted out as few men can, for we just heard "Patiala's Sprightly." At evening we had come to anchor, and early the next morning were once more back in India.
It was no small pleasure to Malcolm and me to see the delight of our three faithful followers, as they proudly tramped through the busy streets of Calcutta with money in their pockets to buy whatever their minds should fancy—they were, indeed, a conspicuous little party, with their weather-worn faces, and apparel made up from bits boughtat all the places we had been to; with the astonishment, too, depicted on the faces of Esau and Lassoo, and the well-earned swagger that our Duffadar wore, as he explained this and that to his two bewildered companions.
But, apart from their outward appearance, which made them so conspicuous amongst the Calcutta citizens, still greater notice would have been taken of them had it been known how willingly and faithfully they had served us under circumstances and at times which must have been far more trying to them than to ourselves. Like our predecessor, Bower, we found the hardest task of our journey was to part with these three followers. Good fellows, how glad they were to be allowed to keep the enamelled plates which we had carried for so many miles, not so much to eat from as for digging holes in our continual search for water!
Duffadar Shahzad Mir, who all through had worked with unrivalled determination, joined his regiment, the 11th Bengal Lancers, at Nowshera, while Esau and Lassoo returned to their homes in Leh. Wherever they may be, they will at any rate have two friends in the world who can never forget them.
Botanical Specimens collected in Tibet byCAPTAIN WELLBY and LIEUT. MALCOLM.
ANALYSIS OF THE JOURNEY, WITH READINGS OF BAROMETER AND THERMOMETER.
SOME CONDENSED METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.
There were fourteen fine days; five with snow or sleet.
A north wind prevailed during the first half of the month; a west or south-west wind during the latter half.
The coldest night was on the 15th (Camp 5), when 22° Fahr. of frost were registered by the minimum thermometers.
Camps 16 to 42.
There were twenty-six fine days.
Snow fell on four days in the first week.
There was no prevailing wind, variable throughout. On some days there was no wind at all, on others there was haze.
The coldest night was on the 16th (Camp 30), with 25° of frost.
The warmest night was on the 24th (Camp 37), with temperature 33° Fahr.
On an average there were 14° of frost.
On the 21st June (Camp 34), the maximum thermometer registered 110° in the sun.
And on the 22nd June (Camp 35), 78° in the tent.
Camps 42 to 72.
There were twenty-one fine days and ten stormy or cloudy.
Snow, sleet, or rain fell on ten days or nights.
The prevailing wind was north or north-west.
As a rule there was no wind in the early morning; it generally rose about nine o'clock.
Sometimes dropped again during the early part of the afternoon, and nearly always blew hard again in the evening, only to drop again after dark.
The coldest night was on the 10th July (Camp 51), with 26° of frost.
The warmest night was on the 29th July (Camp 70), with 1° of frost.
On the average there were 11° of frost at night.
Camps 72 to 102.
There were eleven fine days and eighteen with rain or snow, the greater portion of which fell during the night. The wind was variable. During the latter part of the month there were several severe storms, and many others passed by north and south of us. These storms generally burst over us in the afternoon or evening, coming up against the wind, from the west.
The coldest night was on the 18th August (Camp 90), with 14° of frost.
The warmest night, 25th August (Camp 96), registered 40° Fahr.
The average temperature at night time was 34° Fahr.
Camps 102 to 127.
There were ten fine days and ten days cloudy, with snow or rain, and the last ten days were very fine.
The prevailing wind was west.
The coldest night was on the 11th (Camp 113), when 25° of frost were registered.
The warmest night was on the 5th (Camp 107), when the temperature was 35° Fahr.
The average amount of frost during the night was 12° of frost.
The temperature at 7p.m.was as high as 64° Fahr. on the 27th (Camp 127).
Camps 127 to 141 to SHAPOHTSI.
There were twenty-seven fine days, two cloudy days, two days with snow.
The prevailing wind was east, often chopping round to west in the evening.
The coldest night was the 10th (Camp 137), when 27° of frost were registered.
The warmest night was the 13th (Camp 140), when 2° of frost were registered.
The average amount of frost at night was 10° of frost.
During November and December we experienced a continuation of bright clear weather with frosty nights.