In the Andamans and Nicobars: The Narrative of a Cruise in the Schooner "Terrapin"

Although ranking only fourth or fifth in point of size, Kar Nicobar contains nearly three-fifths of the total population of the group; the number of its inhabitants has remained stationary for many years, and has lately been ascertained to stand at a trifle under 3500.

"The people of Kar Nicobar ought to be among the most contented in the world. Everyone lives on terms of perfect equality with his neighbours. Beyond occasional illnesses, they have no cares or troubles, and there is absolutely no struggle for existence, coconuts and pandanus, their staple foods, being in such profusion that a child old enough to climb a tree could support himself without exertion."[29]

Our sojourn at Kar Nicobar lasted from the 21st to 27th of January, and was spent in making a collection of the fauna (which was not entirely without result in the way of new species), and in obtaining as much information as possible about the natives during the opportunities open to us. Besides this, we secured, through the agent, a fairly representative series of such articles as are used by the islanders in their daily occupations and pursuits.

The well from which we filled our tanks was situated near the agent's house: no good water was to be obtained elsewhere in the bay. In this well the water rose and fell with the tides, the explanation of which is, not that the sea-water is filtered by the coral sand, but that fresh and salt water do not combine; the former rests on the latter, which is of course heavier, and the close and porous coral rock prevents the mixture of the two.

Having given all the time we could spare to Kar Nicobar, and found it a most interesting locality and one worthy of far more protracted attention, it was with feelings of regret that on the 26th we, as Dampier would say, "refreshed ourselves very well with hens, coconuts, and oranges, and the next day sailed from thence."

CHAPTER VI

TILANCHONG

Batti Malv—Tilanchong—Novara Bay—Terrapin Bay—Form and Area of Tilanchong—Birds—Megapodes—A Swamp—Crocodile—Megapode Mound—Wreck and Death of Captain Owen, 1708—We leave Tilanchong—Foul Ground—Kamorta.

On our course to Tilanchong, we passed, after leaving the south end of Kar Nicobar, within a few miles of the little island of Batti Malv. It is scarcely more than a mile in length, and except towards the N.W., where it is somewhat flattened, falls steeply to the sea from a height of 150 feet. It is uninhabited, but the low jungle with which it is covered is the abode of countless numbers of pigeons—principally of the Nicobar variety—which are said to be so tame and fearless that they can be killed with sticks.

A little later Teressa hove in sight, a grey cloud on the horizon, and soon after we caught sight of our destination right ahead. It was midnight before the island was reached, and not caring to find an anchorage in the dark, we drifted gently northward under jib and mainsail, until at daybreak we were opposite the extreme point, where we turned and ran slowly south, keeping close inshore.

All the way along until the centre is reached, the island, 500 feet high and nowhere more than a mile and a half broad, rises in almost precipitous cliffs of serpentine, with deep water at their feet, while the principal vegetation consists of thickets of pandanus in the gullies, and here and there, in spite of the rocky ground, patches of luxuriant forest. We passed three small beaches, above which grew a few coco palms, and then came to Novara Bay, about 3 miles from the north end of the island, where the Austrian frigate anchored in 1858. It was, however, on account of the steepness of the land, an impracticable place for collecting. South of this point the island is everywhere covered with dense jungle, and for the next 4 miles expands to a breadth of more than a mile, attaining in the centre its greatest elevation in Maharani Peak, a little over 1000 feet in height. A short distance further on, and opposite two rocky islets, each about 80 feet high, we found a good anchorage, which, being unnamed on the chart, was promptly christened "Terrapin Bay." It affords fair protection in the north-east monsoon, and shoals gradually from 12 fathoms to the beach. The latter is about three-quarters of a mile long, and is divided by a huge mass of rocks covered with casuarina trees, behind which is a small stream of brackish water. Numerous coco palms shade the beach, and beyond them is a stretch of flat, jungle-covered land. Good water may be obtained at a little sandy spot beyond the rocks forming the northern point of the bay. There is also an anchorage on the other side of the island in Castle Bay.

Tilanchong is 9 miles long and 1¼ miles broad at its widest point, and has an area of about 7 square miles. It is rocky, and everywhere covered with jungle, except in the north, and in shape resembles a flying bird with the north and south extremities as wings, and the broader part in the centre, head, and body.

Our landing at midday was a pleasant contrast to the experiences of Kar Nicobar; the sea was fairly calm, and damage to guns and ammunition was no longer to be feared. On entering the jungle, which at first was somewhat thin, we were immediately struck by the extreme fearlessness of the birds, and the immense number of lizards, of a species peculiar to this island (Gonyocephalus humeii), which abounded everywhere. Every tree-trunk in the forest was the resting-place of two or three of the latter, and as one moved along it was to an accompaniment of scurrying reptiles that dropped from the adjacent branches and darted off to a less immediate neighbourhood. Especially did they swarm in the jungle growing on the dry coral sand above the beach. Besides this small species we found a Varanus lizard, 5 to 6 feet long—very common. We frequently saw them, or heard their noisy rush through the bushes, as, disturbed by our approach, they galloped out of danger. Of the birds, the splendid fruit-pigeons (Carpophaga insularis), generally so wary and unapproachable, denizens of the highest tree-tops, were so unsuspicious that time after time we knocked them over with a pinch of dust shot, and parrots and Nicobar pigeons were obtained with almost equal ease. The latter, whose range extends from these islands eastward to the Solomons, are extremely beautiful birds. The feet are plum-coloured, and the stumpy tail, which is almost hidden by the wings, is snow-white. The head and neck are a delicate grey, while the long, flowing hackles and the rest of the plumage are of a glorious metallic green, iridescent in the sunlight, with shining tints of gold, purple, and blue.

We had not long separated before I caught sight of two megapodes scuttling through the bushes—dull-brown birds about the size of a six-months'-old chicken. They disappeared before I could shoot, but, close by to where they had been, I found one of their laying-places, a mound of fresh earth about 4 feet high and 12 feet in diameter, disturbed by recent working.

For a few hundred yards beyond the beach the soil is very light and friable, a mixture of vegetable loam and disintegrated coral; but behind this it becomes swampy, supporting a densely-matted growth, and while collecting amongst this, I lost my bearings and spent a warm half-hour cutting a way back to the more open forest in the vicinity of the boat.

"January 30.—This morning got my first megapode. Soon after landing, I saw a Nicobar pigeon on the ground, and while stalking it to get a close shot, noticed near by three birds, of much the same size, dancing about amongst some bushes. They were out of sight most of the time, but I 'browned' the place with a heavy charge, and running up found a cock megapode lying dead. In appearance the bird is not unlike a partridge, though larger, and it has the same drooping tail; the feet, however, are out of all proportion, and are remarkable for their extraordinary strength and size; the plumage is olive-brown in colour, except on the head, which is thinly covered with pale greyish feathers, while the cheeks are naked and of a bright vermilion.

"Going further south than yesterday, I found beyond the rock, in the middle of the beach, what was probably once a fair-sized lagoon, but is now an open swamp nearly overgrown with grass and nipah palms. Several small water-birds and a couple of herons were flying about, and of the latter I obtained a white variety.

"We spent about an hour on shore in the afternoon and saw some more megapodes, but failed to get a shot at them: they frequent the open jungle directly bordering the shore, where the soil is so light that they can build their mounds with ease."

"January 31.—On leaving the jheel this morning, as I walked over the rise of ground that separates it from the sea, I saw a crocodile lying half-in and half-out of the water, but before I could get near enough for a shot-cartridge to take effect he turned and swam off; as he rose and fell with the waves, he looked like a log of wood, but all the while made steadily seaward; he was about 10 feet long, and brilliantly marked with yellow.

"In the afternoon I took the camera ashore to get photos of a nest-mound. Just as I was entering the jungle by the mound, I noticed that earth was being thrown in a continuous shower from the top. Soon a bird ran out from a depression there; I shot it, and at the noise another jumped out for a moment and then went on digging, but appearing again a few seconds later, I got it also. It was about to lay, but the shot had unfortunately broken the egg: there is no external difference in the appearance of the sexes, but these were a pair, and it is therefore evident that when the hen is about to deposit the egg, the male assists in excavating the hole in which it is to be buried for incubation. The mound on which they were busy was between 7 and 8 feet high, and rather more than 100 feet in circumference, and had a large coco palm growing through the centre. It would certainly be the work of a number of birds, and must have taken many years to build."

We got four more megapodes on February 1, one of them containing an unbroken egg of a size remarkable for so small a bird; it measured 3⅜ inches by 2³⁄₁₆ inches.[30] The shell is very thick, and when new of a pinkish colour, which changes in the earth to a dirty buff. The temperature of a nest-mound, which we dug into without success in a search for eggs, rapidly increased towards the centre: it was composed of light sandy soil, with apparently no addition of leaves or grass other than that lying about on the earth employed by the birds; the species does not seem purposely to include vegetable matter for causing heat by fermentation.

We failed, whilst here, to obtain a single specimen of a rat; the island is much cut up with holes, high and low, but they are those of crabs, who here also—as on Barren Island and in Kar Nicobar—made off with our baits, leaving behind in some of the traps a quarry we did not at all desire. The only mammal obtained was a large fruit-bat (Pteropus nicobaricus), of which Abbott found a camp up the stream and shot several for specimens. Tracks of pig were seen.

The island is uninhabited, and seems to have been in the same state for some time. In Hamilton's Voyages some account is given of the adventures of a shipwrecked crew, whose vessel, commanded by a Captain Owen, was lost there in 1708. They found the place unpeopled, and, making fires in the night, were taken off by several canoes that came across from the Nankauri group.

Their further adventures, although more properly appertaining to the history of the central islands of the Nicobars, may as well, for the sake of continuity, be given here.

People from Kamorta, from which it can be seen, and who own the plantations on it, come to the island from time to time for the sake of the coconuts, of which there are a fair quantity, and we found traces of visitors in the remains of two tumble-down huts and a liberal scattering of pigs' skulls.

We weighed anchor at 10 a.m., but it was an hour and a half later before we passed the two off-lying islets, for, every few seconds, flaws of wind, coming over the high land, so changed in force and direction that we could get no steerage way, but helplessly boxed the compass all over the bay before we caught a steady breeze. We found deep water between the islets close to the southernmost; everywhere else the ground seemed foul. With a 3-knot breeze we sailed along the western shore, which at this end is much lower than the north, and densely wooded, presenting to view several white beaches and groves of coco palms, while not far from shore are numerous off-lying rocks that continue in a south-easterly direction for about 3 miles from the end of Tilanchong and terminate in a fair-sized islet, named Isle of Man.[31]

The island of Kamorta lies some 12 miles to the south, the adjacent part rising in low grass-covered hills, with occasional trees dotted about: along the coast runs a fringe of vegetation and coconut trees, while in the centre, where the island is about 450 feet high, it is more thickly covered with forest. Trinkat, closely adjoining it on the east, is very low, and from the sea, seems overgrown with jungle. Darkness had fallen before we reached the southern entrance of Beresford Channel, that runs between it and Kamorta, and proceeding inwards for a short distance, we anchored at 9.45 p.m.

CHAPTER VII

TRINKAT

Beresford Channel—A Deserted Village—Jheel—Bird Life—Wild Cattle—Scenery—Photographs—Port Registers—Tanamara—Population—Customs—The Shom Peṅ—The Sequel to a Death—Interior of the Houses.

Trinkat is a low, flat island about five miles long and one wide, separated from Kamorta by the narrow strait in which we anchored. This is much choked with coral-reefs, on which every now and then the sea breaks unexpectedly in low waves which run along their edges throwing up clouds of spray. Several villages, fronted by rows of streamer-decorated poles, were in sight on the western shores, and further up the channel a junk from Penang was anchored, the first we had seen. The island is nowhere higher than 80 or 90 feet, and is superficially of limestone formation—raised coral: the shores are fringed with jungle and coco palms, while the latter are frequent also in the patches of jungle occurring in the interior,[32] which, however, consists mainly of open undulating grassy land.

We landed, after crossing the reef, near a couple of huts, built of palm leaves and rough planks, that seemed deserted. A great number of pigs were roaming about in company with dogs, fowls, and a cat. The huts were surrounded for some distance by palm trees growing in thick scrub undergrowth. A little way along a path we arrived at a small jheel, on which were a diver and several whistling teal. Birds were numerous amongst the trees, where parrots (P. erythrogenys) and pigeons dwelt in flocks, and on the ground megapodes ran about calling to each other, but were too well concealed, by the tall grass and bushes that grew everywhere, for successful collecting. We got here the Nicobar fly-catcher, in plumage of dark chestnut, with steely-black head, and Geocichla albigularis, a pretty grey, olive and cinnamon thrush, a shy bird that kept down on the ground or hid itself in low bushes. Out in the open, amongst the grass, we found numbers of small warblers (Cisticola cisticola), an occasional snipe or two, and flocks of little button-quail (Excalfactoria(?), sp. nov.), while a herd of about fifty semi-wild cattle roamed about, most of them descendants of a number turned out here in '88, when the settlement at Nankauri was given up. They suffer but little loss in numbers at the hands of the natives, for the Government allows no guns in the islands, and it is only very occasionally that a number of men will combine and slaughter a beast with spears.

From the interior the scene was very beautiful; rolling grassy downs were dotted with numerous dwarf pandanus trees (P. furcatus), amongst which the cattle, black, white, and brown, moved slowly. All around was thick jungle, through breaks in which the sea was visible on either hand, and in the west, the sun, shining from behind a dark cloud, painted the hills and harbour of Nankauri in tones of grey and gold. The photographs which I took of this scenery were spoilt, thanks to a liberty taken by the too inquisitive Chinese "boy," who privately satisfied his curiosity as to the appearance of the plates before they had been removed from the slides and developed.

In the evening the Government Agent, who is a native of India, came across from the harbour and brought the Port Register, in which we entered our arrival. These registers, bound in heavy brown leather, stamped with the arms of the Indian Government, we were often to meet with in future; one is in the possession of nearly every coast village except those of Great Nicobar, and some of the remarks in them are very interesting; others are equally amusing, as when some Nakodah, vain of his proficiency in English, tries to express himself in that language, to the utter bepuzzlement of any one who may come after and see what has been written.

In crossing the island next day, I stampeded the cattle, who are rather shy of any moving object, although later I was able to crawl to within five or six yards of the herd, thus learning how simple a matter it would be for the natives to exterminate it. In the interior there are several deep ditches of running water leading into small swamps where the cattle drink. The shore on the eastern side is formed in places by small bluffs of clay marl, above which can be traced the overlying beds of coral.

That afternoon, while preparing specimens, we received a visit from a swarthy gentleman in a suit of white drill—the trousers "a world too long," gracefully falling in concertina-like folds about his naked ankles. He saluted us gravely, and tendered a small pocket-book. "What is your name?" said we. "You will find it," said our dignified visitor, "in the book." So the book was referred to, and he stood revealed as Captain Tanamara, Headman of Malacca, recommended by Mr E. H. Man,[33] as intelligent and willing to be useful to whoever should stop at Nankauri Harbour. He is certainly more ingenious than the majority of the natives, and speaks English, Hindustani, a little Burmese, Kar Nicobarese, and Malay, which last indeed is known by most of the people from here southwards.

The population, he told us, was decreasing: formerly each house was occupied by a number of people, as is still the condition of things in Kar Nicobar, but now there are at most three or four to a hut.[34] He and many other men have no children, the usual number of which is but one or two in each family. Occasional polygamy and easy arrangements for divorce prevail here, and the custom of the husband residing at his wife's house is also in vogue, but in the case of an influential man, or a headman, it is otherwise. He was much interested in a kingfisher (H. occiputalis) that was being skinned, and begged for the eyes, which, he said, formed a valuable specific in cases of sleeplessness!

One of the most attractive features of the Nicobars is the existence of a wild inland tribe—the Shom Peṅ[35]—in the interior of the southern island. These people are known by reputation all over the group, and seem to fill the part of a national "bogey man." From Tanamara, who has visited Great Nicobar in the station steamer, we obtained a few details. He had never seen them, and owned with much candour that he was "plenty 'fraid," and for that reason did not go on shore. He told us, however, that they are similar in appearance to the Nicobarese, but wear garments of rattan and bark only. They are friendly until they see any article belonging to the coast people which they may covet, and then a raid is made, and murder generally ensues in getting possession of it.[36]

The abandoned condition of the houses near which we landed was caused by a death which took place in one of them a short time previously. This was followed by immediate desertion, which, however, is only temporary. Everything going on seemed to have suddenly stopped; dáos were lying on the floor, clothes hung from pegs in the walls, food, half-cooked, still stood in the pots. The animals wandered about uncared-for, cats and dogs in a very famished condition.

Inside this house was quite a small museum: there were large figures, daubed with red and black paint, of men and women with eyes of pearl shell, Polynesian fashion, and drapings of palm leaf and cotton; smaller images and various grotesque heads, sharks, birds, and crocodiles, all carefully carved, and painted in red and blue; painted turtle skulls by the dozen. Spears, cross-bows, and water-vessels hung from the walls, with boards on which were human figures, pigs, fish, fowls, and palm trees, all very well drawn, and not conventionalised in design. On a shelf above the fireplace were piles of wooden plates, dishes, and food-baskets, and below them the big Chaura pots were standing on blocks of stone above the ashes.[37]

We only obtained one megapode on Trinkat, and it was found in a trap. They are probably numerous, for we saw several, and heard frequent calls. The undergrowth is very thick, and the ground covered with tall grass, and although to move about is easy, it is not easy to see these birds until one is almost upon them, when they disappear before one can get a shot. A few rats (Mus burrus, sp. nov.) were caught in the traps, and we shot a few additional specimens, and this is the only island we visited in the Nicobars where they seemed other than extremely scarce.

CHAPTER VIII

NANKAURI

The Harbour Shores—A Village—Kanaia—Canoe—Feeding the Animals—Collecting-ground—Mangrove Creeks—Preparations for a Festival—Burial Customs—Malacca Village—Houses—Visit Tanamara—Furniture—Talismans and "Scare-devils"—Beliefs—Festivities—A Dance—An Educated Native—Tanamara and his Relations—Cigarettes—Refreshments—The Collections—Geology—Flora—Population—Piracy.

On the morning of the 5th we weighed anchor, and proceeded to Nankauri harbour. The entrance is about a quarter of a mile wide, and its northern coast, once the site of the Government settlement, is the only open grassy portion of the harbour shores. Just within the point stands the flag-staff, and above it, on the crest of a low hill, a little graveyard lies within the shade of casuarinas. A long jetty of coral blocks runs out from the shore, and near by is the house of the agent. Opposite, on either side of Mayo Point, are the villages of Malacca and Inúanga, and behind them the forest-clad slopes stretch to grassy uplands.

We sailed into Spiteful Bay, which lies just behind the southern point of the harbour entrance, and anchored in 12 fathoms, mud and sand, close to a little village of a dozen houses standing above the beach.[38] In front of these and planted in shallow water, rose a number of tall poles, each made of several spars bound end to end with rattan, and ornamented at intervals with bunches of palm leaves. These the natives call kanaia: they have, we were told repeatedly, no superstitious significance; one is put up for each inhabited house in the village, and renewed periodically.[39]

Landing at the village (matai) is easy, for below the water-level the sandy shore slopes downwards at an angle of 45°, a condition made possible by the tranquility of the harbour water. The houses, (n'gi) are less solidly built than those of Kar Nicobar, possess a small side-wall about 4 feet high, of boards, and a pointed finial crowning the conical roof; but do not have the protective discs on the supports: the door, too, and a number of small windows open in the sides, and the latter are all supplied with shutters that swing freely on a wooden hinge.

A new and very large canoe was lying on the beach, the dug-out portion, without additions, measuring 42 feet long by 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep. The hull was charred, and decorated by grooved bands running at short intervals from gunwale to gunwale round the outside. Canoes are fitted, according to size, with from one to four short bamboo masts, each supported by four wide-spreading stays of rattan, and on these are hoisted lateen sails with a short tack of about 12 inches, made of cotton or pandanus leaves. The masts are never stepped on the floor of the canoe, but always on one of the crossbars or thwarts.

The people about the village were feeding their dogs and pigs with a kind of gruel in wooden troughs, and as the animals were judged to have enough, each was smacked on the head and sent off; no greediness nor crowding was allowed, and the pigs were far better behaved than the generality of their species.

We found the jungle near the houses quite impracticable, both from its tangled nature and the steepness of the ground it covered. A walk along the shore produced only a whimbrel (Numenius phœopus), which, although not bad for the pot, is too wide-spread a species to be of much value ornithologically.

Experiences next day on the opposite side of the bay were little more encouraging. Scrambling up a steep hill, we found a small stretch of flat land on the top, where ran one or two faint paths, along which the traps were placed. Birds were very scarce, and as it began to rain, we returned to the dinghy, and rowed round the bay, looking for kingfishers. The boat was paddled up all the creeks in the thick belt of mangroves that fringe the shores, but there was no sign of the bird we were after—the large stork-billed Pelargopsis—and we had to be content with whimbrels. The creeks, which in many cases are only just broad enough to row in, often wind for long distances among the mangroves, and on a dull day are depressing places, with but little life in them. In the bay itself we saw many beautiful branching corals of kinds far too delicate to grow in the more disturbed water of the sea; much of the growth which spreads all over the bottom was, however, killed by the mud and fresh water that comes down through the mangroves.

Our arrival in the harbour was coincident with the beginning of a feast, which was to continue for a week or so. Two new canoes, decked with most gorgeous banners, flags, and streamers flying from small poles,[40] were launched on the first day, and, to an accompaniment of singing, rowed across to the northern shore to obtain young coconuts for the coming festivity. These joyous occasions the natives call, in imitation of our English custom, "making Christmas"; and over the door of those houses where the gatherings are held they fasten a number of branches.[41] We entered one of the houses thus decorated. Outside were large heaps of green coconuts, and inside other refreshment in the shape of several big jars of toddy; the interior was prepared for dancing. Immense quantities of cotton print, of every pattern and colour imaginable, were hung from rattans crossing the upper portion of the roof to within about 7 feet from the floor; the upper part was a nearly solid mass of cotton. On a framework in the centre of the floor, covered with alternate strips of red and white cotton, so that it seemed to be made of barbers' poles, were suspended a large number of spoons, forks, and soup-ladles. Everything else in the house was pushed back against the walls in order that the floor might be clear, and as the place was rather dark, it was illuminated by a lamp made from half a coconut-shell, containing melted pigs' fat and a strip of rag. The spoons and forks, in which the natives invest nearly all they obtain by the sale of their coconuts, are purchased from the Burmese and Indian traders. For soup-ladles they give 20 rupees; table-spoons 10 rupees, and smaller sizes 5 rupees. They are of electro-plate and German metal, but the people apparently think them silver, and did not seem to believe us when we told them otherwise, so we did not press the point. Considering the large number they possess, the knowledge might be painful, and since they are destroyed at the owner's death, it perhaps does not matter much. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," and the traders ought to do very well at such prices.

The large public dances of the northern island are not held here, but two or three private houses are prepared for the occasion as above described.

The people of these islands employ in everyday life far more clothing than the Kar Nicobarese, and a great proportion of them wear some other garment—trousers or jacket—in addition to their national apparel. Formerly, they wore the white palm-leaf head-dress, but it was given up when imported garments became common.

A custom of partially exhuming the bodies of the dead exists here, and whenever celebrated is the occasion of a special feast (Koruâk). In the Northern Islands the entire remains are disinterred, carefully cleaned, wrapped up once more, and reburied; here, the skull and jawbone only are retained.

The local population greatly deprecates the method of their northern countrymen.

It would appear, by the way, that the present custom is no degradation of the past, for more than a century ago the head only was disinterred and cleansed.

A few hundred yards from the houses in the bay, and on the seaward side of the same point, is situated the larger village where the headman resides; the path connecting the two crosses the site of one of the old Moravian mission establishments, where the brick foundations of some of the buildings once standing there may yet be seen.[43]

This larger village[44] contains fifteen to twenty houses closely packed together, and fronted by a tall row of kanaia standing in the water. Bamboo posts, too, split at the upper end and spread out fanwise, are planted at intervals along the beach; they are put up yearly by every man in the village, to keep fever and devils (iwi) away; and several grotesque figures of crocodiles (yéo), placed in little shelters, raised on poles, prevent their living counterparts from attacking the villagers when they enter the water.

The houses are of two kinds, round and rectangular; the latter are used as kitchens and storerooms, but there is a fireplace in the others, where much of the cooking is done. The conical roofs are made of attaps of nipah palm, neatly fastened to a framework of thick rattan by lashings of cane, the sides and floor are generally of roughly-hewn boards; inside, about 3 feet from the wall, a circle of posts helps to support the roof, which, in some cases, is entirely lined with horizontal laths of wood. The apex is crowned outside by a high, carved finial. Access is obtained by means of a notched pole, and to permit the entrance of domestic animals, a tree trunk, split and hollowed out to form a trough, slopes gently up from the ground to door or window. Beneath the houses are platforms on which the natives keep their store of pandanus and coconuts, their spare pots and baskets, and peculiar bundles of wood. This latter is neatly cut into billets about 1 foot long, and packed into circular bundles, 2 or 3 feet in diameter, by means of a tight lashing of cane.[45]

One afternoon we paid a visit to Tanamara. He and his wife have no children, but have adopted a little girl from Chaura, whose parents are dead. This custom of adoption is, he says, not at all uncommon. Tanamara's father and mother live with him; the former, "England" by name, is an old, white-headed man, who is nearly eighty; he professes to know nothing about the piratical atrocities which formerly occurred in this group of islands, although many of them happened at a period sufficiently late in his life for him to have fully comprehended such events.

The interior and contents of the house were very similar to what we had already seen in Trinkat. Opposite the door stood the fireplace—a bed of clay on the floor—above which was a mantle-shelf or rack, where are kept pots, baskets, trays, etc. A grated floor formed a small chamber immediately under the roof, where baskets and odds-and-ends are stowed away. Several boxes, packed with the family possessions of cotton and spoons, stood against the walls, on which hung various charms—small figures (kareau), carved scrolls, tassels of palm leaf, and pigs' skulls—all for scaring away devils. Hanging in the centre was a grass string, with a few small coconuts attached: these are for the purpose of feeding the house, and are periodically renewed: the object so nourished does not seem possessed of much acumen, however, for small green nuts, which have been blown down or have fallen from disease, seem quite good enough to sustain it. The house also contained some almost life-sized human figures (odiau), carved from wood, painted and clothed. These were not at all badly shaped, and show an appreciation of anatomical detail unusual among uncivilised people. The shape of the Nicobarese head, and the peculiar angle at which the teeth are set, were well noticed: the swelling muscles, the toes and fingers, even the sharpness of the shin-bone in front of the leg, and the form of the knee-cap, were faithfully copied. They were all supplied with a piece of rancid pork hung from the neck or placed in the mouth.[46]

Several pictures (hentá) drawn on slabs of wood were placed against the walls. These originate from an attack of fever. They are drawn by the village artist by order of the doctor (menlúana), who tells him what he should make. The latter is paid in kind for his work. Of frequent occurrence are pigs, crocodiles and coconut trees, whilst almost always there appears a scene of men seated at a table and drinking rum from large glasses. If the patient make a good recovery, the picture is kept as a potent charm, since it has been successful in scaring away the spirits of illness; otherwise, it is thrown away. A bird (kaláng)[47] commonly made during fever will also produce recovery.

We could not persuade the people to part with any of these, neither would they sell one of the large figures. Tanamara has a life-sized statue, painted black, with a white face, and although he was offered in exchange a dress-suit and a white sun-helmet, which he much coveted, he would not part with his double: its price was far above rupees. I was, however, permitted to photograph both pictures and figure; although, while the latter was being moved from the house to the beach, he was in an agony of apprehension, for he believes that if any accident should happen to it, illness on his part would follow, while, had we broken it or taken it away, he himself would certainly die. The object of these figures is to keep devils from working harm to their owners. Some people have none, while others sometimes possess two or more.

"February 7.—The people are far too occupied with their feasting to take much notice of our presence: on shore I found them so busy and excited that the photographs I had hoped for could not be obtained. Every day four large canoes go across to the other side of the harbour for coconuts, of which very few grow about the village: all the vessels are gaily decorated, and the paddlers are in holiday attire—collars of split banana leaf (fūm), beads, new cottons, and red paint on their noses.

"Tanamara came on board to tell us that the dance, at which by arrangement we are to be spectators, will be ready to-morrow morning; but that, to give a proper dance, the performers require to be jolly, and to be jolly needs a bottle of rum, which under the circumstances it was our duty to supply. He only stopped to beg for a glass of spirits, and then returned to the amusements on shore. Laughter, cheers, and singing have been going on in the village all the evening."