Mr. Redslob Had
Engagements In Leh, And I Was Already Somewhat Late For The Passage
Of The Lofty Passes Between Tibet And British India Before The
Winter, So We Decided On Crossing With Every Precaution Which
Experience Could Suggest.
At Lagshung, the evening before, the Tibetans made prayers and
offerings for a day cloudy enough to keep the water down, but in the
morning from a cloudless sky a scintillating sun blazed down like a
magnesium light, and every glacier and snowfield sent its tribute
torrent to the Shayok.
In crossing a stretch of white sand the solar
heat was so fierce that our European skins were blistered through our
clothing. We halted at Lagshung, at the house of a friendly
zemindar, who pressed upon me the loan of a big Yarkand horse for the
ford, a kindness which nearly proved fatal; and then by shingle paths
through lacerating thickets of the horrid Hippophae rhamnoides, we
reached a chod-ten on the shingly bank of the river, where the
Tibetans renewed their prayers and offerings, and the final orders
for the crossing were issued. We had twelve horses, carrying only
quarter loads each, all led; the servants were mounted, 'water-
guides' with ten-foot poles sounded the river ahead, one led Mr.
Redslob's horse (the rider being bare-legged) in front of mine with a
long rope, and two more led mine, while the gopas of three villages
and the zemindar steadied my horse against the stream. The water-
guides only wore girdles, and with elf-locks and pig-tails streaming
from their heads, and their uncouth yells and wild gesticulations,
they looked true river-demons.
The Shayok presented an expanse of eight branches and a main stream,
divided by shallows and shingle banks, the whole a mile and a half in
width. On the brink the chupas made us all drink good draughts of
the turbid river water, 'to prevent giddiness,' they said, and they
added that I must not think them rude if they dashed water at my face
frequently with the same object. Hassan Khan, and Mando, who was
livid with fright, wore dark-green goggles, that they might not see
the rapids. In the second branch the water reached the horses'
bodies, and my animal tottered and swerved. There were bursts of
wild laughter, not merriment but excitement, accompanied by yells as
the streams grew fiercer, a loud chorus of Kabadar! Sharbaz!
('Caution!' 'Well done!') was yelled to encourage the horses, and the
boom and hiss of the Shayok made a wild accompaniment. Gyalpo, for
whose legs of steel I longed, frolicked as usual, making mirthful
lunges at his leader when the pair halted. Hassan Khan, in the
deepest branch, shakily said to me, 'I not afraid, Mem Sahib.'
During the hour spent in crossing the eight branches, I thought that
the risk had been exaggerated, and that giddiness was the chief
peril.
But when we halted, cold and dripping, on the shingle bank of the
main stream I changed my mind.
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