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

"February 8.—About nine o'clock this morning, taking with us a supply of liquid—half water, half rum—we landed at the village, and were received with a cordiality which doubtless owed its warmth partly to the presence of the bottles. In the banqueting-house we found dancing still in progress, that, judging from the noise made, had lasted throughout the night. All the cottons had been taken down, but the stand of spoons still remained in the centre of the floor. Every one still on his legs was very hilarious; we were shown large jars which last evening were full of toddy. Lying about the sides of the floor people were sleeping, some from sheer weariness, some from intoxication. All were gaily dressed; bright cottons hung from the shoulders like a cloak, round the neck were strings of beads and collars of frilled banana-leaf, now faded; many wore ear-stretchers of red and white cotton made into rosettes, and the men were crowned with chaplets of twisted print: we saw several handsome belts, made of silver wire and rupees (almost the only use to which money is put), and some wore armlets of silver not unlike those brass-wire ornaments affected by Dyak women.

"In dancing, the people—men, women, and children—form a circle, or portion of a circle, round the spoons, and, with arms intertwined and hands on each others' shoulders, move slowly towards the right, with measured step, to the accompaniment of general chanting—to me it sounded like 'ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,' ad infinitum, only varied in tone and rhythm.[48] The regularity of the movement is broken at intervals by a step or two in the opposite direction, or a pause with a pirouette on one leg, and now and then a heavy stamp on the floor. One old woman, who danced most perseveringly, was so intoxicated, that, whenever her neighbours took away the support of their arms, she fell over, and was too helpless to rise unaided.

"Seated on boxes we watched the performance, and the doctor, presiding over the rum bottles, repeatedly filled a small glass, from which each imbibed, turn and turn about. At our feet squatted a number of half-drunken people, gabbling away in a mixture of Nicobarese, Malay, and English; not all so stupid, however, that some could not detect the water in the tipple.

"Tanamara, who was fairly clear-headed at first, received the finishing touch from the rum, and before we left embraced Abbott with fervent gratitude: 'You good man, I love you; you make us all nice and drunk. Oh, I feel so nice!'

"The dancing was very monotonous, and before long we were glad to get out to the open air: the hut was ventilated by a small doorway only, and the vitiated atmosphere in which people had been moving for the last twelve hours was by no means pleasant. Children and boys were present, but no young women; in fact, at all times we only caught sight of the latter as they bolted into the houses on our approach, and none were forthcoming for the camera."

"February 9.—Everything is quiet on shore to-day after the dissipation which left off yesterday. Tanamara came on board with a headache; he was sure it could be cured with rum, but got a heavy dose of Eno instead. We gave him a few ducks he was very anxious to possess. It is to be hoped there is a drake among them—a point that was somewhat doubtful—for then we shall have benefited the community to the extent at least of introducing a new domestic animal to the islands."

"February 10.—Gave Tanamara a watch this afternoon, to spur him to further efforts in collecting curiosities. His wife, whom he calls 'my Mary,'[49] desires to visit the schooner this evening; but although she is uninvited, and comes by her own wish, she has bargained for two fathoms of red cotton in payment for the honour done us.

"We met a man on shore who was for a time at the school formerly kept for natives at Port Blair. He lays claim to the name of William Brown, and speaks English very well; his education otherwise has resulted in giving him a contempt for the native superstitions, of which he speaks with sneers, and meanwhile has replaced them by no other tenets. The train of events that brings such a condition of things about seems somewhat injudicious. A knowledge—a small knowledge—of the 'three R's' is of very little use to a native who has sooner or later to return to his national mode of existence. His experience may unsettle him, and is no suitable training for his future life, while it must leave him at a disadvantage among his countrymen, who have been bred to the conditions under which their existence will be passed."

"February 11.—Tanamara came on board last evening with his brother-in-law (Hamól) and nephew (Térrok). He was half-drunk with toddy, and brought—it was quite a family party—his wife (Helpak) and mother (Mert). A canoe-load of dishes, spears, and charms, which accompanied them, we purchased with old clothes, wire, and rice. The headman is as great a beggar as the others, perhaps more so, by virtue of his position and his English. Our conversation was continually interrupted by demands for one thing or another as he remembered them: things for his father, mother, wife, each request insinuatingly prefaced by the words 'my friend.' 'My friend, you give me—; My friend, I want—.' But for this fault, he is a fairly favourable specimen of a Nicobarese, and is certainly more intelligent than the rank and file; but, like many that we met, he is somewhat spoilt by contact with more civilised conditions.

"We had on board a quantity of American cigarettes, packed in cardboard boxes, each containing a dozen, and a coloured picture of a young woman in an evening gown! These packets were very useful as small presents, or as an answer to a request for a smoke. 'Oh, my dear!' exclaimed Tanamara, as he lovingly gazed at the picture from his packet. But he soon became dissatisfied, for she was a blonde and he likes brunettes, while what he was most anxious to obtain was the portrait of a Malay woman.

"Our small supply of spirits coming to an end, Abbott manufactured a new kind of cocktail from the medical stores—tincture of cardamoms, essence of ginger, sugar, and water, with a few spoonsful of rum to give the mixture a bouquet. This fiery liquid was received with some suspicion at first; but when I told them it was the favourite tipple of the C.C. at Port Blair (may I be forgiven), Tanamara and his brother—it was too stiff for the others—drank it down, although the tears stood in their eyes."

Of the fauna, we obtained from day to day little of interest: the jungle was without paths, and too thick even to see much in. No rats were trapped, but one specimen was brought us in a bottle by a native, and this has proved to be Mus alexandrinus, totally unrecorded until now from the Andamans or Nicobars. Pigeons were common, but megapodes scarce, and the only one obtained was caught in a trap. The vicinity of the harbour, though a somewhat unproductive hunting-ground for the ornithologist, for those interested in the natives, is, like Kar Nicobar, a most satisfactory locality.

Nankauri is a heart-shaped island, with an area of 19 square miles, and a maximum height of 534 feet. The bed rock consists of serpentinous magnesian, which is exposed in places. It is covered by a plastic white or yellowish clay and clay marl, with intervening beds of quartz sandstone, formed, like the clay, by the disintegration of the plutonic rock. The clay beds are similar to those which cover most of the northern islands, and contain silica, alumina, magnesia, and iron, but usually no lime, except in the form of gypsum, found in crevices. Portions of the clay cliffs exposed to the sun are covered with a fine efflorescence of sulphate of magnesia (Epsom salts). Professor Ehrenberg found in 1850, on examining specimens sent him by Dr Rink (Galathea Expedition), that this formation is a polycistina clay similar to that of Barbadoes.

About one-third of the island is covered with grass: a belt of forest runs all round the coast, but in the interior is restricted to the valleys and more sheltered slopes. The most useful species are: Garcinias, Calophyllums, Myristica irya, which yields good timber; Sterculia campanulata and Terminalia procera, which grow to immense sizes. The Nicobar and many other palms occur in numbers, and a wild species of cinnamon is common, as also is Amomum fenzlii, the leaves of which are used for cigarette wrappings, and the fruit much eaten by the natives.

But little fruit is grown about the villages: limes, guavas, and soursops are commonest. In the way of supplies, coconuts, pigs, and a few fowls might be obtained from the natives, and beef by shooting the wild cattle. Water in the harbour is very bad, and scarce.[50]

By a comparison of the census returns (1886 and 1901), the population would seem to have been stationary for many years: it now consists of 224 individuals.

The central group of islands was once notorious for the frequent disasters occurring to vessels calling there. It was for long thought that the numerous total losses that occurred in the Bengal Sea were due to storms and cyclones; but at length the discovery was made, that, from the beginning of the century until the British occupation, the vicinity of Nankauri Harbour was the habitat of a band of pirates, who cut off and murdered the crews of many vessels calling to trade and supply themselves with water or provisions. The headquarters of the band appear to have been in Expedition Harbour, and from there, whenever a vessel anchored at the islands, they sallied out, and either getting on board under the guise of peaceful natives, took the crews by surprise with a sudden attack, or else cut up landing-parties, and then captured the weakened vessel.

In this way, always by treachery and never in open warfare, they succeeded in capturing ship after ship.

There is some ground for belief that, for a time, the piratical goings-on were carried out under the leadership of an Englishman named William Worthington. The dates given in the various accounts of him are contradictory; but it appears that, about 1808, Worthington deserted at Nankauri from the frigate Bucephalus, and that for some years subsequently the pirates were directed by a man who gave that name as his.

In 1814, the Ceres was boarded by an Englishman, who stated that he had been left behind by a man-of-war. After inspecting the vessel, he left, and next day, as the anchor was being hove up, he arrived at the head of about thirty canoes, and made a futile attack on the ship.

A short time after, the brig Hope was cut off. An Englishman, who had previously stated he was Worthington, deserter from the Bucephalus, murdered the captain and mate, and the natives despatched the crew, with the exception of two or three, who escaped in a boat and in some way arrived at Rangoon.

At length Worthington was either expelled from the harbour, or left with some home-going Bompokans; but be that as it may, a man of that name lived for some years on Teressa and Bompoka, where several captains met with, or received letters from, him. Their opinions of his character differed. He was last seen in December 1820, when he reported that a ship from Bengal had been cut off and massacred at Nankauri, with several others previously, by natives led by Kafirs. He stated that after he deserted at Nankauri, he was unable to leave until he had paid a ransom to the natives. His death took place the same year, and the natives with whom he lived afterwards gave him the best of characters: that "John," as they called him, had long dwelt quietly and amicably amongst them. His seems to have thus been a case of "devil turned monk," and his career amongst the natives akin to the records of the better-known "beach-combers" of the early days in the Pacific.[51]

In a paper contributed to the Journal of the Indian Archipelago, 1847, the missionary, Chopard, says that silver had a peculiar attraction for the natives, and was the chief article which induced them to butcher, by treachery always, crews of vessels calling at the harbour. He knew a Kamortan, thirty-five years of age, who recollected eight vessels which had been cut off there in that manner.

In 1833, a Cholia vessel was cut off in the false harbour of Nankauri (Expedition Harbour) and everyone murdered. In 1844, Captain Ignatius Ventura, from Moulmein, commanding the Mary, anchored on the north side of Teressa at two o'clock, and an hour later he and his crew were murdered. In the same year, Captain Law met the same fate on Kamorta. In 1845, a vessel, having taken in part of her cargo at Kachal, sailed to the false harbour at Nankauri to complete, and all hands were murdered.[52]

"While I was at Kar Nicobar," Captain Gardner writes in 1857,[53] "two vessels were cut off at Nankauri, the crews massacred, and the ships plundered and scuttled." In 1840, the Pilot, South Sea whaler, was cut off there, and the captain, mates, and twenty-five men murdered; the third mate, surgeon, and seven men escaped to sea in a boat.[54] In 1844, the cutter Emilia visited Nankauri, and her captain was murdered within an hour of landing, but the boat escaped.

Piracy in the Nicobars came to an end with the occupation of Nankauri Harbour by the Indian Government in 1869; but two years previous to that it had been necessary to send there a British punitive expedition, on account of the atrocities committed by the natives. A notification of the event was made by Captain N. B. Bedingfield, who commanded the expedition, in the first of the Port Registers entrusted to the Nankauri natives.

Nor was this the only case of the kind, for although most of the vessels disposed of were native, the total included not a few European. There is another instance on record, in which a European woman was taken ashore and so brutally abused by the band of pirates that she died next day.

It is believed that the origination of these practices cannot be traced to the natives, but is due to the settlement of a body of Malays, who attracted a number of the inhabitants to themselves, and then formed a gang to plunder all vessels calling at the harbour, consequent upon a successful massacre of the crew.

CHAPTER IX

KAMORTA

The Old Settlement—The Cemetery—F. A. de Röepstorff—Mortality—Birds—The Harbour—Appearance of Kamorta—Dring Harbour—Olta-möit—Buffalo—Spirit Traffic—Cookery—Ceremonial Dress—A Visit from Tanamara—Geology—Flora—Topography—Population—Hamilton's Description.

On several occasions we crossed the harbour and visited the locality of the convict settlement formerly established on Kamorta, but given up in 1888, when the buildings were dismantled, and sepoys and prisoners withdrawn to Port Blair.

The jetty on which one lands is more than a hundred yards long, and although solidly constructed of coral blocks, is now in need of partial repair. To the right is a long sea-wall, and on the other hand a small boat harbour, both built of coral. Beyond the agent's house at the foot of the jetty, one walks along a grass-grown road shaded by an avenue of tall casuarinas, and passes several large wells of strong brickwork, and a large tank for rain water, with various other traces of past occupation, till on the hill-top one comes on the remains of the Government bungalow, of which only the foundations are now to be seen. A little farther on is the only building now standing—the old powder store—"where nothing's here that's worth defence, they leave a magazine!"

On another hill close by—from which are to be seen the whole stretch of the beautiful harbour, the distant forest-clad slopes of Kachal and the grassy interior of Kamorta—lies the little cemetery with its two occupants—Nicolas Shimmings, chief engineer of the R.I.M.S. Kwangtung, and Frederick Adolph de Röepstorff, a Dane by nationality, and for some time superintendent of the settlement. Tanamara told us of his death, which occurred in 1883. Complaint had been made that one of the sepoys of the small force stationed here was in the habit of stealing the natives' coconuts; him the superintendent reprimanded, and threatened to send to Port Blair for punishment. Next day the sepoy shot at and wounded de Röepstorff while the latter was in the act of mounting a horse. The injured man despatched a letter to the Andamans by a Burmese trader, but died before the arrival of a steamer, five days later. He was nursed and buried by the Nicobarese, who would not allow the Indian servants to approach him.[55] "He was," said Tanamara, "a good man, a very good man." He took much interest in all that surrounded him, and besides contributing accounts of the Andamans and Nicobars to the journals of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, he made large collections of lepidoptera for the Calcutta Museum, and compiled vocabularies of several of the local languages.[56]

Nowadays, all that marks our possession of these islands is the Colonial Jack, presided over by a Hindu; all that shows our past occupation, fallen brickwork, grass-grown roads and graves: these things, and the result of our contact with the native inhabitants. In the north, some knowledge of the English speech, and the beginning of education; here the suppression of piracy.

The agent told us that in the group people were dying almost day by day; the cause, from his description, ague and malaria.[57] Beyond two or three slight cases of elephantiasis, we ourselves noticed no symptoms of disease amongst the adults, but the children nearly all seemed to be suffering from yaws.

The country around the settlement is very undulating, and covered with long grass growing on a sterile clay. It was almost lifeless, for we saw little more than wagtails, pipits, and an occasional button-quail (Turnix albiventris and Excalfactoria, sp. nov.); but in one of the numerous gullies between the hills we found a little jheel where formerly paddy had been grown, and floating on its surface was a small flock of whistling teal (Dendrocygna javanica). A couple were dropped before they flew out of range, and next day we met in the same place a larger number, which all got off scot free; but a falcon (F. peregrinus), that like ourselves had just made an unsuccessful attack, was soon reposing in a game-bag, in company with a chestnut heron (A. cinnomomea), and a redshank.

On February 11th, when we left our anchorage, the breeze was very light, and bore the schooner slowly through the calm waters of the harbour as we steered for the western exit.

All around, the shores sloped downward, covered with dense forest, but now and again the inland hills rose grass-clad above the tree-tops; on either hand we passed small villages, Itoë (six houses), and Pachoak (five houses), placed just above the edge of the water.

The western opening is bold and rocky, but very narrow; and among the boulders of the shore are several blow-holes, from which, when the sea rolls on the beach, spouts of water fly upwards and break into showers of spray.

Outside, the wind was still light, and we tacked along the coast for some hours before it strengthened. Much of this side of Kamorta consists of low broken hills with pointed summits looking like volcanic cones—a grassy country, varied by occasional small patches of forest—while along the shore low bluffs and stretches of coco palms succeed each other.

Soon we passed the entrance of Expedition Harbour, a deep, land-locked bight, separated from Nankauri Harbour by a narrow strip of land; this was the reputed headquarters of the band of piratical savages who formerly committed so many depredations in this neighbourhood. Near by, Mount Edgecombe, of a very volcanic appearance, rises about 400 feet.

This shore seems but little inhabited, for until we reached our destination at 4 P.M., we saw only one small village of four or five houses.

The wind was off the land when we arrived at Dring Harbour, and since the entrance was narrowed by rocks and reefs projecting from either side, we lowered all sail and warped in.

The bay is about half a mile square, and the head, which is slightly wider than the mouth, is bordered by a long sandy beach, backed by a belt of scrub and palm trees, from a quarter to half a mile in depth. The other shores are partially formed by small cliffs, with a thin fringe of jungle, bounding grassy hills and downs.

The village of Olta-möit (fifteen to twenty houses), "Captain John," headman, lies along the beach, which abuts at the southern end upon a fair-sized creek leading to a mangrove swamp at the back of the houses. Several natives came on board at once, in expectation of a feed; none spoke English, but all understood Malay.

The patch of jungle about the village is rather small, and to reach more necessitated a walk of some miles; we succeeded, however, in adding to our collection a diminutive serpent-eagle (Spilornis minimus), and caught sight in the denser jungle of a fresh variety of a little forest hawk. Specimens were also obtained of a small bat which has since been named Pipistrellus camortæ.

The neighbourhood of the harbour has for long been frequented by descendants of buffaloes, turned loose by the Danes when they abandoned their settlement at Nankauri. Formerly it is said that large herds were to be met with in the neighbourhood; but we learnt, both from the inhabitants and from the Port Register, that the animals are now becoming very scarce, and only a few have recently been killed by visitors from the station gunboat.

I was out after them on two consecutive days. Both had been preceded by nights of rain, through which tracking was much facilitated. The country round is very undulating, often broken by deep gullies, and covered here and there with small patches of jungle, while everywhere are scattered pandanus trees, either in clumps or singly. On both occasions I picked up fresh tracks in the red clayey soil when some distance from the village, and after following them for several miles lost them in distant jungle. There seemed to be only two animals in the neighbourhood—one very large indeed, and the other of much smaller size. This decline in numbers is not due to the natives, who, with their spears only, could cause little destruction, and who evince no eagerness to pursue.

Tracks of pig were innumerable, and every now and then a bunch of little quail whirled away from beneath my feet. Although out by 5 A.M., I was not early enough; at three o'clock on a moonlight night one would probably be more fortunate.

In 1870, chital and sambhar were turned out on Kamorta, but nothing is now seen of them, except by the natives, who state that from time to time a few have been perceived here, and at Trinkat, which they reached by swimming the narrow channel intervening.

One afternoon was devoted to the exploration of the creek, which is rather deep at the mouth, and navigable by boat for several miles; all this distance it is bordered by the usual wearisome mangrove forest, in which, however, we saw numbers of parrots, whimbrel, and pigeons.

The proportion of old men among the people of the village seemed even greater than was the case at Malacca. On the headman, John, we met with the only case of tattooing found in the islands—probably the work of some Burmese trader, for neither Nicobarese nor Shom Peṅ tattoo or scarify themselves.

A second junk joined that already in the harbour the day after our arrival, and everybody on shore was soon drunk. The inference is obvious. The authorities at Port Blair prohibit the supply of intoxicants to the natives, and whenever they are found on board trading vessels, spirits are confiscated, and a small fine levied, in cash or articles of barter to the value of about a hundred dollars. This, however, is not always a sufficient deterrent, and on a second conviction, the Chinese skipper is awarded six months' rigorous imprisonment in the jail at Viper Island, Port Blair. The spirit is invaluable to the traders in their dealings with the natives, and is so inexpensive, that they can afford to risk its loss, since the chance of discovery is about one in a hundred.

A small feast was held during our visit, for which a number of pigs were prepared. Torches, made by binding immense palm leaves together, were set fire to, and the bristles singed off by fanning the flame on to the animals as they lay on the ground.

"Captain John" was resplendent for the occasion in a neng and dress-coat, and a friend of his looked very imposing in an officer's frogged and braided tunic.

The day before we left we were surprised by the appearance of Tanamara, who arrived with one companion in a small canoe. He had declined to come up in the schooner, on the excuse that fever-devils and other evil spirits were very active in this locality. He was, he assured us, very sorry for us alone up here, and had had a dream which resulted in his setting out. (I am uncharitable enough to think that that dream had something to do with rum!) He did not wish to be seen by the shore people, of whom he seemed afraid, for he stayed aboard all day, and in the evening, when some of them came off to the ship, left for a time in his canoe. Next morning he departed at daybreak, that he might not be observed from the village.

We ourselves made sail a few hours later, with the intention of visiting Teressa. We took in water at Dring, but the only supplies obtained were coconuts.

Kamorta is 15 miles long, and of a general width of 4 miles: it attains in the extreme south-west a height of 735 feet, and in the centre rises 435 feet, but the average elevation is about 200 feet. It is of the same geological structure as Nankauri, but is covered with far less forest, and its extensive grassy downs are dotted with patches of scrub, bracken, and pandani. The presence of casuarinas high up in the middle of the island is peculiar. This species as a rule is found only on the coasts, but here they were planted by the Settlement authorities at the Government cattle-stations (between 1869-88), as it was found that this tree delights in the polycistina clay. The neighbourhood of Dring Harbour is extremely well watered, as nearly each one of the many gullies has either a stream or pond in it. A stratum of a sandy nature underlies the surface clay of this district, and by washing away, causes the latter to fall in, with the result that a number of curious hollows are formed on the tops of the rolling hills. This tendency leads to parts of the downs becoming terraced as if by artificial agency. Some thirty villages are scattered along its coasts, and the population, according to the census, has increased, principally by immigration from Chaura and other islands, from 359 in 1886 to 488 at the present day.

Of the central group of islands, Hamilton writes:—

CHAPTER X

KACHAL AND OTHER ISLANDS

Heavy Surf—Teressa—Bompoka—A Native Legend—Hamilton—Chaura—Wizardry—Pottery—Kachal Typical of the Tropics—Nicobarese Dress—West Bay—Lagoon—Mangroves—Whimbrel—Formation of Kachal—Birds—Visitors to the Schooner—Fever—Chinese Junks—Thatch—Relics—The Reef—Megapodes—Monkeys—Full-dressed Natives—Medicine—A Death Ceremony—Talismans—Fish and Fishing—Geology.

For some hours after we left Dring the breeze was very faint, but at midday a heavy squall with rain overtook us and carried us onward, so that we were soon sailing along the southern shore of Teressa.

The island of Bompoka, which lies but a short distance from its south-east end, is high, with a central tableland, whence the ground slopes gently downwards in every direction, and is covered with forest and grass.

Seen from a distance, Teressa looks like two islands, for it is elevated at either end: the northern part is covered with forest; the southern end is all grass-land, save for a fringe of scrub and large coco-palm groves along the coast. This portion of the shore is very rocky in places, and numerous points of off-lying reefs project from the water.

A heavy swell was running from the south-west, and rank on rank of breakers—10 feet or so in height—were rolling shorewards, throwing up clouds of smoke-like foam. It would have been impossible to land without danger of losing guns, camera, etc., so we decided not to make the attempt, and therefore put about for Kachal, with the less regret in that the locality did not seem to hold out much promise as a collecting ground.

There is no harbour on its coasts, for the shores of the island, which is crescent-shaped, are almost unbroken. We afterwards heard that, two or three months previously, a Chinese junk, whose crew all reached the shore, had been wrecked on the reefs fronting this part of the island.

In their customs, style of architecture, and in the more general absence of talismans and demon-exorcising regalia, the people of Teressa and Bompoka are said to resemble those of Kar Nicobar, but their language possesses great dialectical variation.

Teressa is 34 square miles in area, and rises in the north to nearly 900 feet. The bed rock is serpentine, covered with sandstone, and there is a fringe of recent coralline alluvium round the shore, while beds of coral on the high land of the interior indicate upheaval since the formation of the older alluvium.

The soil of the grass-lands is of an igneous clay formation—magnesian clay, formed by disintegration of the plutonic rocks, whose upheaval in two successive stages brought the Nicobars into existence. Overlying it in many places are the beds of coral, and to these formations the grassy downs of the island are confined—lallang, with occasional screw-pines, a bracken-like fern (Gleichenia dichotoma), delicate ground orchids, and various scrubby plants (Kydia calycina), which point to the occurrence of annual fires. The transition from grass-land to high forest, which appears on the sandstone, is very sudden.

The graceful Nicobar palm (Ptychoraphis augusta) is common in the jungle. Whole groves of this beautiful tree fill the moister ravines, and give a characteristic appearance to the forest. Nearly equally conspicuous are large numbers of Sterculia campanulata.

Fruit and vegetables are the same as are found on Kar Nicobar, with the addition of tobacco, of which several small fields have been raised from seed imported from the west coast of India.

The census returns of 1901 give the population of Teressa as 624, making the number of inhabitants 50 more than in 1886.

Bompoka, having the appearance of a truncated cone, and 634 feet high, is an oblong-shaped island, about 4 square miles in area, separated from Teressa by a channel 50 fathoms in depth, and scarcely more than 2 miles wide. Its inhabitants, who number less than a hundred, and the people of Teressa, have an interesting legend to account for the formation of the island. Once upon a time a vessel, having a prince for its captain, visited Teressa, where he, on landing, was murdered by the inhabitants. His wife was taken on shore and treated with the greatest respect; but, since the spot on which her husband's blood was shed was always before her eyes, she was very miserable. One night, however, she was advised in a dream, by her mother, to remove the bloody spot from Teressa if she would be happy. This she did, and Bompoka was thus separated from that island.[59]

The geological formation and the vegetation are similar to those of Teressa. The inhabitants have good plantations of fruit-trees—papaya, plantains, and limes—neatly fenced to keep out the pigs. At Poahat, on the west coast, good water is to be obtained from a stream at the back of the village.

These two islands, with perhaps Chaura, seem those referred to by Hamilton as the Somerera Islands, so called because "on the south end of the largest island is a hill that resembles the top of an umbrella or somerera. They are fine champaign ground, and, all but one, well inhabited. The island Somerera lies about 8 leagues to the northward of Ning and Goury (the Nankauri group), and is well inhabited for the number of villages that show themselves as we sail along the shores. The people, like those of Ning and Goury, are very courteous, and bring the product of their island aboard of ships to exchange for commodities. Silver nor gold they neither have nor care for, so the root of all evil can never send out branches of misery, or bear fruit to poison their happiness! The men's clothing is a bit of string round the middle, and about 1½ feet of cloth, 6 inches broad, tucked before and behind, within that line. The women have a petticoat from the navel to the knee, and their hair close shaved; but the men have their hair left on the upper part of the head and below the crown, but cut so short that it hardly comes to their ears."

Chaura, which lies 7 miles north-westward of Teressa, has an area of about 3 square miles only. It is generally low, and the only jungle it possesses is a little at the south end, where it rises almost perpendicularly in a rocky pinnacle to a height of about 350 feet, having the appearance, with the contiguous low portion, of a broad-brimmed hat. It was on this account termed Sombrero by the Portuguese navigators of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, who were probably the first Europeans to have any commercial dealings with the Nicobarese.

The people are very well off, on account of their trade in canoes and pottery: but to obtain the articles imported by the traders, canoe voyages are made to other islands, as the anchorage at Chaura is exceedingly precarious, and after the native requirements are provided for there are but few nuts to spare for trade, so that vessels are hardly ever known to call. The island is the best cultivated in the group, and besides abounding in oranges, limes, and other fruit, is covered with coconuts; and toddy being common, drunkenness is fairly prevalent. One of the institutions of the place is the door mat; for a large flat sponge, which is found in numbers on the reefs, is placed at the bottom of every house-ladder, for the natives to wipe their feet on!

Although the smallest, it is at the same time the most densely populated of the islands, for, in spite of decreasing numbers, which may perhaps be due to emigration, the people of Chaura number (January 1901) some 522 in all; in 1886 the population fell only a few short of 700. We were told that they are taller, more powerful, and darker-skinned than the other Nicobarese, and also dolichocephalic.

Through an exaggerated reputation for magic, they are greatly feared throughout the group, and have for this reason developed a most independent and overbearing demeanour. Various circumstances assist the cultivation of these traits—the value in which their canoes[60] are held throughout the Archipelago, for one; but the most important of all is the monopoly[61] which the island of Chaura possesses in the manufacture of pottery.

Throughout the Nicobars there is an inherent belief that should anyone—other than a native of Chaura in Chaura—attempt to make a vessel of clay, he is doomed to almost immediate destruction. This fate was formerly supposed to follow the act of even eating food cooked in any pottery other than manufactured on the island, but this part of the superstition is now losing force, and the Nicobarese freely provide themselves with pots made at Port Blair.

The women of Chaura—for the men take no part in the construction of the pots—cleanse and prepare the clay, by washing out the rougher particles and kneading it with fine sand. The operator seats herself on the ground by a slab of wood, on which she lays a ring of coco-palm pinnæ neatly bound together. Upon this ring she sets a shallow dish, neatly lined with a circular piece of plantain leaf. With a lump of clay, the bottom of the vessel to be constructed is moulded in the dish, and upon this basis, by means of ropes of clay, the work is built up, the operator turning the pot round and round, and shaping it with her eye and hand. The vessel is set aside on a platform under the hut for a day or so, to dry: only the smallest kind can be prepared for the kiln without an interval of waiting.

The pot when dry is scraped with a shell, and then reversed, and all superfluous material removed by means of a fine strip of bamboo moistened with water, while the fingers, also wet, are gently passed over the inner and outer surfaces in order to smooth them. The pot is then replaced on the platform for ten days more.

The kiln is prepared by sticking bits of broken pottery in the ground, a few inches apart, and on these the pot is set upside down. In the space beneath it, a layer of fine wood ash, and a quantity of coconut-shells and scraps of firewood, are heaped. A wheel-like object, larger in circumference than the pot, is placed on its upturned base, and against this rest sticks of firewood stood on end. When the fire is kindled, two or three women fan the flame, and with wooden pokers prop up and replace the fuel. When the vessel is baked, it is removed with the same implement and placed on dry sand.

Coloured stripes are laid on by means of strips of unripe coconut husk pressed against the vessel while hot—the acid juice turning black the moment it touches the heated surface. Finally a handful of moist husk is passed over the inner and outer sides, imparting a light-copper colour to the parts not stained by the deeper dye, and the vessels are stored for a time to season.[62]

The pots vary in size, from a capacity of half a pint to five gallons or more, and also in shape, some having a perfectly straight plain lip, while in others the edge is turned out or rounded, but all are alike in having a more or less rounded base.

After leaving Teressa, we encountered fresh breezes and squally weather until we anchored in darkness near the shore of Kachal. At daybreak next morning we weighed, and again started—with scarce a breath of wind—for the bay on the west coast where we intended to stay.

With Kachal we returned again to the tropical island of common type in these seas, for it is entirely jungle-covered, with no traces of grass-land visible.

On account of their geological structure, the Nicobars fall botanically into two divisions—the northern islands, including perhaps Nankauri, are largely covered with grass, with coco palms and pandani growing in the interior; while the southern group, consisting of Kachal, with Great and Little Nicobar, are entirely forest-covered. Tilanchong, although belonging to the others by position, should nevertheless be classed with the latter islands.

Several canoes from a small village on the north-west coast came off to inspect the schooner as we slowly drifted along. Their occupants seemed less prepossessing than those people we had just left, for they looked somewhat dirty in person and were dressed in discarded old clothes, or the cheap cottons and loose trousers supplied by the Chinese. The Nicobarese are not so partial to water as the Malays, and they by no means improve matters by unnecessarily clothing their bodies with cast-off garments and once gaudy cottons, which they never, or rarely, dream of washing.

We reached West Bay by midday, and anchored in 2½ fathoms. A junk was lying farther in, the fourth we had seen. From the southern shore, coral-reefs project for some distance, both into the bay and seaward, and at low tide the swell breaks upon them heavily; while, at the same time, two rocks project above water inside the harbour, near the north beach, and must be borne in mind when choosing an anchorage. Fifteen or sixteen houses, surrounded by coconuts, are scattered along half a mile of beach, and at its head the bay narrows and then extends inland among mangroves and their attendant swamps.

Our first expedition was up the bay, which we found opened out into a shallow lagoon nowhere more than 2 or 3 feet deep. The dinghy grounded often, and we were unable to reach firm land anywhere, so thick was the belt of mangroves. Rowing up some of the small creeks winding among them, we saw several flocks of herons (Sumatranus javanica), while sandpipers, curlew and whimbrel were common on the mud-banks, and pigeons and parrots in the taller trees.

In several places occur those stretches of dead mangroves only seen when the trees are large, and which are infallible evidence of the growth of land; for when such trees first took root, a certain amount of salt water must have been present, while, when they are found dead, the roots are nearly always silted up with solid matter, which first causes the water to become stagnant, and finally replaces it. Having served their purpose, they die, and stand white and gaunt until brought down by the wind or gradual decay.

At sunset, large flocks of whimbrel, travelling seaward down the mouth of the lagoon, afforded some fair shooting, for they were very wild, and flew past us at an amazing pace as we fired at them from the boat hidden in the mangroves.

On the northern side of the bay, where much of our collecting was done, we found, behind the houses, a number of paths leading among coconut and pandanus palms, tangled grass, and bushes. Beyond this scrub, in which gaudy-leaved crotons were not uncommon,[63] was the jungle, fairly open, but without any large trees.

The land in the neighbourhood of this coast, and probably as far as the hills inland and on the eastern side, which rise 800 feet, is of very recent formation, and consists of almost undecayed coral débris mixed with sand and vegetable loam, a compound scarcely sufficiently fertile to support a heavy forest at present.

Pigeons and glossy starlings were common, and we obtained specimens of a small forest hawk which had not been met with on the more open island (Astur, sp. nov.): we shot also a new chestnut myna (Sturnia, sp. nov.), somewhat similar to that met with on Kar Nicobar. Grackles (Eulabes intermedia), of which only one specimen on Nankauri had yet been seen, were fairly numerous, and the presence of a drongo, the first of its kind observed since leaving the Andamans, was recorded.

Numbers of Blyth's dove (Macropygia rufipennis) frequented the scrub near the village. We were astonished to find the crops of all those shot completely filled with large red chillies only. It is almost impossible to conceive anything more pungent than a red pepper, and the bird must have an extraordinary interior to patronise such a diet exclusively. This unusual food had no effect on the flesh, for its flavour in no way differed from more rationally feeding members of the same species.

Now and again we would have visitors on the schooner, for in the evening people often came on board to watch us as we sat preparing specimens, and although on these occasions we generally obtained information from the natives concerning the locality and their customs, they were, as a rule, more bent on satisfying their own curiosity than our desire for knowledge.

One man showed us a ring, about 1½ inches in diameter, of a bone-like substance, and related a story about it of some large jungle-dwelling animal, from whose eye, or eye-socket, it was made. "This animal," he said, "was bigger than a pig, and very scarce"; further than that he was not intelligent enough to give a description!

Another native, "Yassan" by name, brought a letter originally belonging to his father, and written by de Röepstorff, who is now almost forgotten. Yassan was more intelligent than his companions, and we made arrangements with him to obtain for us a collection of charms and curiosities.

He was a man of some standing locally, was thrice-wedded, kept each of his "better-halves" in a separate house, and was at the time blessed with three children, all the offspring of one proud mother. Our conversation was carried on in Malay; but on one occasion, when we were at fault as to his meaning, he was asked to explain himself in Hindustani. He smiled rather wickedly, and immediately surpassed a Kling in volubility. Thereafter we stuck to the easier language, and guessed what we did not understand. These natives undoubtedly include some wonderful linguists among their number.

Once or twice the chinchews[64] of the junks brought for treatment Chinese suffering from malaria; the crews, they said, always contracted fever when visiting the Nicobars, and even if they do not suffer from it on the spot, it invariably occurs before reaching Penang. These particular vessels had been only a month at Great Nicobar, and a fortnight at this place, obtaining copra and rattan, but already several members of the crews were incapacitated from hard work.

Those junks trading at the Nicobars—where they remain during the greater portion of the north-east monsoon—that come immediately from Singapore, but originally from China, make the voyage and return between the last-named two places in the other (south-west) monsoon, which is the bad weather season in these waters, but the contrary in the China Sea.

The houses in the village were very similar in appearance to those we had just left, but were roofed with attaps of pandanus leaf. The process of thatching cannot be an enjoyable occupation, for either edge of the pandanus leaf is armed with a row of thorns, while the lower side of the mid-rib is provided with a third row set in the reverse direction; thus in brushing against a clump of young pandanus one is not only pricked when approaching, but scratched while getting away.[65]

Behind the village we found a fairly recent grave, around which the possessions of the deceased had been deposited—a wooden chest with the lid wrenched off, clothing, spoons, forks, tools, axes, dáos, and other things, forming a miscellaneous collection that was rapidly rotting away. There they would stay until destroyed by the exposure, for no one would venture to help himself, however valuable or useful the articles might be.

In front of one house was a solitary example of kanaia, set up on land, however, instead of in the water: possibly the south-west monsoon blows too strongly on this coast for their general erection. The name of this village is Ol-kolo-kwák.

To reach land on the southern side of the bay we had to cross a broad reef of coral and coral sand, thickly overgrown with grass and corallines, and dotted with various species of holothurians. The forest on shore came right down to the water; and once inside it, we found ourselves in very truth in the home of the megapode.

No sooner were we under the trees than we immediately saw the birds—for the jungle is very open—running about, singly or in parties of twos or threes. From all round came their cries, perhaps best described as loud, ringing calls ending in a rapid cackle, to the sound of which the following syllables bear some resemblance—"ūrr-rak, ūrr-rak, ur-r-rak, rak, rak, rak, rak!" The megapode hardly ever takes to flight when startled, but runs quickly away among the bushes; the only occasion on which I ever saw these birds use their wings was when once I suddenly walked into a party of four, scratching at the foot of a large tree. Two ran off, but the others rose clumsily in the air, and after flying a short distance, attempted to settle on a low branch, on which they alighted very awkwardly, and immediately lost their balance and fell off. The feet, although very large and strong, are not adapted for grasping, and the tail is far too short to be of any use as a balance.

Several birds seem to occur somewhat locally: it was on this side of the bay only that we obtained Spilornis minimus, while the little forest hawk seemed confined to the northern shore.

We were unable to reach the hills in the centre of the island from the harbour, as the swamp at its head stretches out long arms to right and left, cutting off the land bordering the coast from the interior.

Kachal is the most northerly of the Nicobars in which monkeys are present, and, taking into account the scarcity of other mammalian fauna and the absence of this genus from the Andamans, it seems certain that they have been introduced. Their non-occurrence in Tilanchong—an island eminently suited to their requirements—goes to bear out this statement; for, so far as we know, it has never been permanently inhabited, and thus, unlike the other islands, offers no reason for monkeys being brought there.

The people of Ol-kolo-kwák told us these animals were very numerous in the jungle round the village, but several days passed before we met with them. On the first occasion, we each obtained a specimen from the same herd. They turned out to be macaques—one was a fine old male, weighing 21 lbs., an unusually large size—with fur so dark as to be almost black, but greyish-white on the under parts. Having regard to the colour, the species has since been named Macacus umbrosus.

We saw them only once again, and then I found myself within a few yards of an immense male who was on the ground. My cartridge missed fire, and, immediately the click of the falling hammer caught his ear, he bolted. This proved to be our last chance of obtaining another example from Kachal. That one always loses the best specimens, is proverbial: this monkey was the biggest macaque I had ever seen.

Such mishaps during one's earlier opportunities are always most vexatious; later we found monkeys very numerous in the other islands.

On 22nd February a Chinese junk passed northward, and the same day another arrived, and anchored in the harbour; that night there was carousal in the village and the noise of much singing.

Visitors to the Terrapin were fairly continuous during our stay here, and the appearance of some of them was as ludicrous as it was striking.

One man, who wore a battered "billycock" on his head, had encased his feet and legs in a pair of rubber jackboots; between these extremities he sported a sailor's jersey, and the usual T bandage.

But, impressive as was this man's apparel, it was quite put out of the running by the grande parure of a fellow-dandy who arrived later. A top-hat worn sideways, and draped with a spotted cotton handkerchief where a mourning band might be, a gunner's jacket, thickly laced with yellow braid, and a light-blue pair of Chinese breeches, combined harmoniously (!) with heavy bead necklaces, and a face profusely bedaubed with red oil-paint. This gentleman's idea of refreshment was brandy, and to obtain it he had furnished himself with a supply of fowls, with which he was prepared to purchase it at the rate of a chicken a drink.

When not arrayed in these exotic costumes, everyone wore merely the neng, and perhaps a fillet of twisted cotton about the head.

A man who came to be doctored was treated with a glass of Eno, and an aloes pill, which he slowly sucked! This latter is the sort of medicine natives like, and as the awful bitterness of the drug became evident to his palate, the fellow doubtless thought it very effective treatment indeed. Give a native 10 grains of quinine in sugar-coated tabloids, and he probably holds you a very poor sort of doctor; but dissolve that same quinine in a large glass of water, and make him drink the solution slowly—he will perchance recover on the spot! Faith and imagination, both in savagedom and civilisation, have a lot to do with these matters.

The women of the village were very shy and timid, but we now and again saw one or two going about their daily business; the children, however, could not get used to us, and fled screaming whenever we appeared.

A few days before we arrived at the village a woman had died there, and during our stay a performance for ridding the place of the ghost was gone through.

A large catamaran was constructed and rigged like a schooner, with sails made of green coco-palm leaves. The local doctor or bobo[66] then went through certain ceremonies, at which we were not present, and finally seized the ghost or devil and threw it into the boat, which was pushed off, and drifting away, was carried out to sea, where it disappeared.

The Malays have an almost similar custom to this, in the employment of the kapal hantu (ghost ship). This they use during times of pestilence, or in cases of individual sickness; but instead of forcing the evil spirits into it, they are attracted by a show of coloured rice, etc. Once they are cajoled on board, the vessel is pushed off, and carries the illness to whatever fresh locality it may reach.[67]

The day before we left, Yassan, who had promised to collect, brought in a number of charms—figures of crocodiles, birds, women, men, and some fever pictures, called here déūshi (derived from the Portuguese for God, and is applied to the representations of the Deity in the pictures on boards and spathes). The people had but few scruples with regard to parting with such things. After being paid, he asked for a chit and a bottle of rum, "to use, mixed with eggs, as a medicine for his stomach!"

In the waters of the bay we caught quantities of small fish, which, although easily obtained by us with the seine, cannot be a staple of diet in the case of the natives, who have no nets. I once observed a native in a canoe following a shoal, and making casts with a many-pronged fish-spear; he continually threw his weapon, but during the ten minutes I watched him, he caught nothing at all.

There is no good water here, and to fill our tanks we dug holes just above high-water mark; the liquid that filtered in was slightly brackish, and gave a heavy deposit of earthy matter.

Any quantity of coconuts may be obtained, with a few chickens and perhaps a pig or two.

Kachal is about 62 square miles in area, and reaches a height of 835 feet on the eastern side, which is composed of hills of calcareous sandstone and marbly slate, formed in deep seas during the Tertiary period. The western side, which is of very recent formation, consists of a flat shore plain of coralline alluvium, mixed with decayed vegetable matter and loam brought down from the hill. It is covered with dense forest throughout. The population is stated to be 281—an increase of 100 in the last fifteen years.

CHAPTER XI

LITTLE NICOBAR AND PULO MILO

A Tide-rip—Islets—A Cetacean—Pulo Milo—Timidity of the Natives—Little Nicobar—Geology—Flora—Population—Site for a Colony—Jungle Life—Banian Trees—The Houses and their Peculiarity—The Natives—Practices and Beliefs—The Shom Peṅ—The Harbour—We ascend a River—Kingfishers—Water—Caves—Bats and Swallows—Nests—A Jungle Path—Menchál Island—Collections—Monkeys—Crabs.

Sailing across the Sombrero Channel, some 30 miles wide, between Kachal and Little Nicobar, we passed the islet of Meroë. It is low-lying, and about 1 mile in length. A yellow beach separates the dark crown of jungle and coconuts from the sea, except at the southern end, which is slightly elevated and rocky.

On its western side, a tide-rip—to which the chart ascribes a strength of 5 knots an hour at times—caught us, and we were in some danger of being carried inshore, but that the breeze was just strong enough to bear the schooner safely past. The tides in the channel set strongly, and are said to attain in parts a velocity of as much as 5 knots at springs.

South of Meroë are the islets of Trak and Treis, and from the deck the red sandstone cliffs of the latter could be seen with much distinctness. Little Nicobar, rising 1400 feet, showed broken and hilly, completely covered with dense jungle, and beyond it Great Nicobar loomed faintly above the horizon.

During the afternoon, when in the vicinity of Meroë, we were somewhat excited by a glimpse at what was perchance a specimen of the killer whale (Orca gladiator). The first hint we obtained of the presence of such an animal, was conveyed by the sight of a long black fin showing above the water immediately in the course of the schooner.

As we sailed over the spot where it had been, we perceived, while looking over the side, a stout, rotund body of a deep black colour, marked with large patches of a yellowish hue about the head and the posterior portion of the back. Only a momentary glance was obtained before it faded from sight in deep water, but we judged it to be some 15 feet in length.

The dorsal fin distinctly differed in shape from that figured in descriptions of the killer; instead of being more or less triangular, it was sabre-like, long, narrow, and curved.[68]

We were all day journeying from Kachal to Little Nicobar, and had to anchor for the night somewhere west of Pulo Milo. As it became dark, immense flocks of pigeons left the forests of Little Nicobar for Trak and Treis, where they roosted for the night, and when day dawned we saw them passing back again. That morning, however, we made sail again, and reached our anchorage in a very short time.

The harbour is a fairly good one, and is formed by the coast of the island here bending to form a right angle, and by the island of Milo, which forms a protection on the west. Good shelter is afforded during the south-west monsoon—the most important consideration; and at other times only strong northerly winds need be feared.

We found 7 fathoms sand in the centre of the channel where we rounded to; and soon after the sails were down, three wild-looking fellows in black Chinese jackets came alongside, followed presently by a couple of old men clothed in red cotton.

For some unexplained reason, they seemed much afraid, and were with difficulty induced to believe that our intentions were nothing but good. From answers to questions, we learned that the people of Little Nicobar have nearly all died—a piece of information that one seems to obtain everywhere but in Kar Nicobar and Chaura. The name of the island they gave as Pulo Panjang (Malay=Long Island); it is called "Ong" in their own language; among themselves the Nicobarese do not employ the names familiar to us.[69]

Little Nicobar, the second largest island of the Archipelago, has an area of 58 square miles. It is broken up into hilly ranges, the highest summits being Mount Deoban, 1428 feet, near the centre of the island, and Empress Peak, 1420 feet, at the north-east corner.

The bed rock is a calcareous sandstone, easily disintegrated, and overlaid by a deep soil capable of sustaining a rich and varied vegetation. The hills are thickly wooded from base to summit, and there are no grassy spaces like those found on the northern islands.

The nature of the forest varies according to position and soil. In the beach forest, Pandanus larum and P. odoratissimus, Hibiscus tiliaceus, Barringtonia speciosa, Terminalia catappa, and Calophyllum inophyllum, are extremely plentiful; in the littoral forest of the level inlets, Mimusops littoralis, Calophyllum spectabile (canoe wood), and Eugenias, are the best represented species; while palms (Ptychoraphis augusta and Areca catechu) and cane-brakes are common in the moister parts. The high forest of the hills contains fine specimens of Terminalia procera, C. spectabile, Myristica irya, Artocarpus lakoocha, and Garcinia speciosa. No Dipterocarpus trees occur.

The population of Little Nicobar and Pulo Milo is 67: in fact, with the exception of Kondul, the inhabitants are fewer than those of any other island of the group. Its people speak, with some variations, the dialect of Nankauri: only for certain objects, and these, singular to say, of first necessity—coconuts, palms, pandanus, etc.—do they employ different expressions.[70] The same language is spoken by the people of Great Nicobar. According to Hamilton, they all partook, two hundred years ago, of the unpolished nature of their mountainous islands, and were more uncivil and surly than those of the northward!

Should the group again receive a European settlement, I know of no spot more suited to the purpose than this: in accommodation for shipping only is it excelled by the splendid harbour at Nankauri; in all else it is far superior—in the formation and greater area of ground, in fertility of soil, and in the presence of water.

We landed first on Little Nicobar near some ruined huts which once formed the village of Makachiaṅ, deserted since 1898, when the few remaining people either died or removed elsewhere; and after passing through a belt of coco palms, found ourselves in the jungle.

Much of the surface was level; but here and there little chains of sandstone hills, rising two or three hundred feet, wound about. The trees were of immense height, and in many places beneath them one moved about as freely as in an English forest.

Although this open vegetation is much more pleasant to traverse, it is not half so satisfactory for collecting purposes as the denser jungle, for it contains far less, both in variety and numbers, of birds and animals.

Megapodes, singly, in pairs, or in little flocks, ran about and sought busily for food, calling to each other meanwhile, until, alarmed by the sight of such unwonted intruders as white men, they scurried swiftly away. Overhead, so high as to be almost out of shot, pigeons, grackles, and parrots fluttered and cried, while, running up and down the branches, we saw, for the first time, the Nicobar tupai or tree-shrew, a little insectivorous animal, which, at a casual glance, might be taken for a squirrel. They were very common; but, unlike their representatives in the Malay Peninsula, etc., which are ground animals, we saw them only in the trees.[71]

It was soon evident that we had no cause to regret not having obtained more monkeys at Kachal, for here they abounded; and after discovering how common they were we would cold-bloodedly arrange every morning as to who should murder the specimen for the day.

Here a new bird was added to the islands' fauna (and to science) in the shape of a little Rhinomyias, quietly clothed in dull-brown plumage, which frequented the undergrowth of dense jungle and possessed a rather sweet note.

A momentary glance of a pitta gave for a few days (until we obtained a series of specimens) a fresh zest to collecting; this bird also was hitherto unrecorded from the locality, and proved to be a new species, although closely resembling P. cucullata.

A short distance from the shore, some immense banian trees grew so high that the pigeons and parrots which swarmed in their branches for the fruit were often completely beyond reach of the gun. The trees possessed, moreover, some wonderful aëreal roots (70 feet high), and, standing on the edge of an open space within the jungle, offered an opportunity for photography too good to be passed by. While the plate was being exposed—an operation of some minutes—a diminutive pig, bearing a striking resemblance to the Andaman species, trotted out from the surrounding foliage and leisurely inspected the camera. It was the first of the kind we had seen, and I had to reproach myself with leaving my gun at the boat.