THE WAR IN BOOTAN

During 1865 another border war occurred in India; not as usual on the north-west frontier, but with Bootan, an almost unknown country away in the far East, and north of the great river Brahmapootra. The causes were of the usual character—incessant depredations in our districts of Assam and Cooch-Behar. The territory of Bootan, with a length of about 250 miles, lies amidst the southern slopes of the highest ranges of the Himalayas, the eternal snows forming its frontier towards Thibet. It is, in fact, a country of stupendous mountains, intersected by narrow, precipitous valleys and rapid streams. The rainfall is excessive;[69] and all along its southern border, in the low grounds at the foot of the mountains, are dense forests and marshy jungles, almost impenetrable and choked with vegetation. The whole of the lower district is very unhealthy, and is the home of wild elephants, rhinoceros, and tigers—natural zoological gardens, in short, free of charge. The people of Bootan have little or no organised military force, and such fighting men as exist are only armed with knives, bows and arrows, and a few matchlocks; so that in a military sense they are not at all formidable. The inaccessible nature of the country is its best, and indeed almost its only, defence. The people are Chinese in type, and nominally Buddhists in religion; but, though brave and hardy, are almost entirely uncivilised, and the ruling authorities are weak and treacherous. The government of Bootan appears to be of a duplicate character; one rajah being a kind of spiritual head of the State without power, whilst another has all the power but apparently no head. The result, as might be expected, is frequent anarchy, whilst the subordinate rulers along the frontier district tyrannise over the people and plunder their neighbours at discretion. For a century past, indeed, the people, instigated by their chiefs, had incessantly committed depredations in our territories in the plains: carrying off men and women as slaves, and also elephants, buffaloes, and property of all kinds. Remonstrances had been made time out of mind, and missions sent to try and bring them to reason; but all our efforts were met by incivility, almost amounting to insult, and by evasion. The rulers of the country, no doubt, relied in a great measure on its inaccessibility; and, ignorant more or less of our power, were defiant and treacherous accordingly.

In 1864 the Government of India decided on sending a mission, under the Honourable Ashley Eden, to Poonaka, the capital. His instructions were to demand the release of all captives, and to endeavour to arrange for peaceful commercial intercourse in the future. Leaving Darjeeling in January, he crossed the river Teesta, the western boundary of Bootan; but throughout his long and difficult journey to the interior, although he succeeded in reaching Poonaka, and although the poor villagers appeared well-disposed, he was met with evasion and constant delay from those in authority; and, when he arrived at length at the capital, the conduct of the Government was so threatening and grossly insulting that he only got away with difficulty, having under compulsion signed an obnoxious treaty, which, on his return to India in April, was immediately disavowed and repudiated.

It was quite evident that, unless we were content to submit to violence and insult, the time had fully arrived for a recourse to arms. An expedition was arranged accordingly, and our troops entered Bootan from the plains in three separate, widely detached columns, of no great strength.[70] The one in the East marched a few miles up a gorge to Dewanghiri, and took it; but subsequently, on being attacked, abandoned the position, and fell back with the loss of two guns. The temporary defeat was, however, speedily avenged by a force under the command of the late General Tombs, of which the 55th Regiment under Colonel Hume[71] formed part, and the place was re-taken and held. The centre column also advanced into the hills and established itself at Buxa; whilst the third assaulted and captured Dalimkote, an old fort on a mountain ridge in the western ranges, and about 5,000 feet above the sea.

Dalimkote, a few miles from the plains, was only formidable owing to its almost inaccessible position; and our troops engaged in its capture had to climb the steep sides of the mountain, by tortuous and narrow paths, and through thick jungles. In fact, the whole neighbourhood was a mass of dense forest and luxurious undergrowth. The officers and men of a battery of artillery had managed with difficulty to carry a small mortar up the hill-side with a view to a short bombardment, preceding assault. Hardly had it been brought into action near the entrance gate than by some unfortunate accident a barrel of gunpowder exploded, killing Captain Griffin, R.A.,[72] both his lieutenants, and six gunners, besides wounding several others. The small garrison, however, did not wait for an assault, but bolted, and the fort fell into our hands.

Our columns had not penetrated for any great distance into the country, still the occupation of three important passes not only prevented the Booteas from plundering, but also put a stop to their commerce, which, though comparatively trifling in amount, proved a great blow to these isolated mountaineers; so that, after many attempts at evasion, towards the end of 1865 they were prepared to come to terms. Being desirous of visiting a part of the country so little known, and of so much interest at the time, I left Calcutta in January, made a rapid journey of about 400 miles due north to Darjeeling, and from that hill station started on an expedition for a fortnight along the Bootan frontier, returning by a voyage down the river Brahmapootra. The first part of the journey from Calcutta to the Ganges was by rail; and having crossed the river to Caragola, I was then carried by coolies in a palanquin, a sort of elongated bandbox, for 120 miles to the foot of the mountains, not meeting a single Englishman during the journey. The country was perfectly flat, and at night a native walked in front with a lighted torch, in order, so it was stated, to scare away the tigers. The coolies as they carried me along sometimes broke out into a low monotonous chant, occasionally varied by a dismal moaning chorus. I tried to ascertain the burden of their song, and found that it was myself, and that the coolie refrain was somewhat as follows: 'This is a heavy man. Oh! what a fat man,' and so on. Colonel Bourchier, R.A.,[73] joined me in the 'Terai,' a narrow belt of marshy forest lying at the foot of the slopes; and then, on a couple of mules, we ascended the Himalayas to Darjeeling. Not being encumbered with any baggage to speak of, our arrangements for the expedition were simple. Leaving Darjeeling, we rode due East for about twenty miles, and by a gradual descent reached the banks of the Teesta, a rapid river about 100 yards wide, remaining for the night in the hut of a young officer who, with a picket of native troops, was in charge of this corner of the frontier. The scenery was charming, and we met occasional parties of Booteas carrying fruit to the Darjeeling market.

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SKETCH MAP TO ILLUSTRATE TOUR IN BOOTAN, JANUARY 1866

The passage across the Teesta was by means of a cane bridge; and, considering that the inhabitants are ignorant and uncivilised, was a wonderful specimen of ingenuity and skill. These bridges, of which there are several in different parts of the country, are on the suspension principle, and made entirely of bamboo canes fastened together. There is not a nail or a single piece of rope used in the whole construction. They swing about in an uneasy way in passing over them; and as the canes soon become rotten, the whole structure gradually perishes and falls into the river, and has to be renewed. Indeed, as I understood, they require re-building annually. Our mules were pushed into the rapid torrent and pulled across by a long line, also made of flexible bamboos and devoid of string. Altogether it was a curious experience; and we felt much sympathy for the young officer who had to pass months on guard in this secluded valley, without a fellow-countryman to speak to. After crossing the Teesta, we entered Bootan territory, began a long ascent, and at the top of a mountain found another officer with a picket in a solitary stockaded fort. The scenery all round was magnificent. Dense forests filled the deep valleys, and far away to the north stood the snowy crest of Kinchinjunga, 28,000 feet high, standing out clear in the horizon.

Proceeding along over the mountains, we passed an old monastery at Tasigimpoo, and in the evening reached a deserted Bootea stockade, where we remained for the night. The country seemed to be thinly inhabited, but the few people we met were good-natured and friendly. I had been warned not to sleep in the jungle, as we should be devoured by leeches; so, what with possible tigers on the one hand, and hungry leeches on the other, caution was necessary. However, I escaped, except that on one occasion a superfluous leech—not a tiger—attacked my leg during the night. Otherwise all went well, and the following evening, passing through glades of oak, we came in sight of the picturesque old walled fort of Dalimkote, overlooking the plains of Bengal, and surrounded with feathery woods of bamboo.

Although the war was supposed to be virtually at an end, I had been informed by Sir John Lawrence before leaving Calcutta that their chief warrior Tongso Penlow was still at large and defiant, and sure enough on arrival at Dalimkote it was found impossible to advance further into the country. Consequently, in order to reach the next column at Buxa we were compelled to return to the plains, and after a ride of fifty miles reached Julpigoree on the Teesta. During the night horses were placed along the road eastwards to Cooch Behar; and, sending on our baggage with a native servant on an elephant, we started early the following morning, galloped for sixty miles over the plains, and, crossing several rivers on rafts, reached Cooch Behar in the afternoon. There was no time to spare, so after a few hours' rest we turned our faces again northwards, and after another long ride reached the centre column at Buxa. The hostility of Tongso Penlow had thus compelled us to make a detour of about 150 miles; but leaving Buxa, pushing on over the mountains, and then down to the deep secluded valley of the Chin-chu, we at length reached our most advanced post at the small village of Tapsee, and were rewarded by a view of the magnificent scenery of a country hitherto unknown and unexplored. Our pioneers had for some months past been engaged in constructing a road towards the interior, cutting through forests, blowing up rocks, and constructing temporary bridges over precipitous gorges and mountain torrents. We were, in short, advancing steadily through a remarkable and very difficult country towards Poonaka; and the perception of this fact no doubt compelled the Bootan Government at length to sue for peace, and caused even the warlike Tongso to cease his opposition. Hurrying back by forced marches, I took leave of Colonel Bourchier at Cooch Behar; and then finally, after a long solitary gallop, reached Dobree, on the Brahmapootra, just in time to get on board a steamer on its return voyage. Although several hundred miles from its mouth, the river at Dobree resembled a great inland sea. Its navigation, owing to numerous sandbanks, is somewhat dangerous, so that we could only move during daylight, passing numerous picturesque native boats and occasional alligators, lying like logs of grey wood along its banks. After a few days we arrived at Kooshtea, near the junction of the Ganges and Brahmapootra, and then reached Calcutta by railway. The expedition was hurriedly carried out; still it was most interesting in its variety, and in giving a glimpse, at all events, of a country so peculiar and hitherto so little known.

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WAR IN BOOTAN, 1866. OUTPOST IN VALLEY OF THE CHINCHU