In the buying and selling of the larger canoes the natives of Chaura act as middlemen—seeming to possess a monoply of intermediation in this business as they do of pottery making.[214]
The canoes are not made at Chaura; there are no suitable trees on that small island to construct them from. The Chaura people obtain them—very cheaply—from the central groups (where many are made, and where others, obtained from the southern group, are also sold), and sell them again to the Kar Nicobarese, making four or five times in the transaction what they themselves pay.[215]
"As the Kar Nicobarese are timid, and allow themselves to be bullied by the natives of Chaura, who assume an overbearing manner towards them, as well as towards their southern neighbours—all of whom are dependent on them for pots, which cannot be made at any of the other islands—the feeling predominant among the Kar Nicobarese as regards the people of Chaura is one of fear, and they evince every desire to avoid incurring their ill-will and resentment,"[216] even to the point of submitting to be flagrantly cheated in their canoe barter! The extortionate price they have to pay may have something to do with the high value the Kar Nicobarese set on their large canoes.
The business of purchasing these is accompanied by its peculiar ceremonies. In an instance at Mūs, after busy bargaining for pots and a large canoe, the Chaura people, in the evening, feasted, each man in his friend's house, and then at midnight assembled at the Elpanam, with the chief men of Mūs, and amused themselves singing songs in turn, and partaking of betel-nut and toddy. There they got through the preliminaries to purchasing the canoe, and the articles intended as its price were exhibited. After the bargain was closed the Mūs people returned to the village, leaving the Chaura men at the house in Elpanam.
The articles agreed on were handed over.
Next evening a great feast was given to the people of Chaura by those of Mūs; in each house a young pig was killed for the purpose. At night all the people assembled in a house in Elpanam, and after dining, amused themselves singing songs by turns.
The Chaura people then left the island in the canoe they had sold, for it is the custom to do this, and bring the canoe back on a later occasion. They were provisioned for the voyage by the village of Mūs.
The dances of the Kar Nicobarese are always held at the open ground of Elpanam. With a mafai, a fire, or a trophy of spoons and forks as a centre, the people form large circles, or parts of circles, according to their number, and move slowly round to left and to right. The sexes dance separately, the one ring within the other, or join the ends of their chains to form one large circle, but form up very compactly, each person grasping his neighbour's shoulder with outstretched arms intertwined. The dance is somewhat monotonous, and consists of two or three steps sideways, and a pause, with a stamp with the foot or a swing of the body, and then the same movement in the reverse direction, and so on, over and over again, to the accompaniment of the performer's songs.[217]
The refreshments partaken of are coconuts, tobacco, and toddy. The latter is supplied in large quantities, and gives rise to much intoxication, which, however, only seems to result in increased friendliness and a drunken sleep.
When a quarrel takes place the participators often seek revenge in destroying each other's coconut trees, but in severe cases a man will probably burn his own house down. Possibly this is done on the supposition that the enemy will suffer more from self-reproach at having been the cause of the destruction than from any other form of punishment he could undergo. Or possibly it is a mild instance of a peculiar form of "amok," to a variation of which curious psychological state the Nicobarese are undoubtedly subject on occasions when they consider themselves injured. Several instances that have been recorded of kindred occurrences will perhaps best illustrate this conduct and idiosyncrasy.
1. A man named Kuhangta purchased some things from the traders on the responsibility of another named Tumilo. As the traders pressed Tumilo for immediate payment, he urged Kuhangta to settle the matter with coconuts forthwith. Kuhangta was enraged at this, and killed several of his own pigs, and also set fire to his own house. He threatened, in addition, to kill any one who approached, and kept a dáo in hand for that purpose. Lorenzo therefore went to the owner of a gun and begged that Kuhangta might be killed. This request was not granted, and, in the end, the headmen of various villages succeeded in reconciling the two, and obtained from Kuhangta a promise of good behaviour. Such cases, however, do not always end so tamely as in this instance.
2. "About noon, Offandi, the headman of Mūs, came to my hut with a paddle in his hand which he was trying to break, muttering at the same time, 'I am a very rich man. All this land and everything in it is mine. You were a very poor man, and I gave you land, gardens, houses, and many other things. You now call me a liar, and so I am angry, and am going to dig up a grave.' He repeated this over and over again, and would not say anything else. I was quite puzzled, and could not understand what he meant. I asked him if he was angry with me, and he said, 'Yes, I am angry, and there is another man.'
"While this was going on, his wife and a number of men and other women came running after him from the village. As soon as he saw the crowd, he hastily broke the paddle in my hut and ran off with the handle to the burial-ground, and began to dig at the grave of his late father.
"The crowd ran off to the burial-ground, caught hold of him, and tried to drag him out of the place. A regular struggle commenced, and the women began to cry out, some, 'We fear, we fear,' others, 'Don't pollute us.' The Burmese and other traders looked on from a distance with great surprise.
"As the matter began to grow serious, I went across and ordered Offandi in a commanding tone to leave the place and come away at once. He came away quietly enough to my hut, and the crowd with him. After some inquiry, he said that 'Friend of England' had insulted him, and, therefore, he wanted to open the grave of his (Offandi's) father and throw the bones into the sea, adding, 'This man was a very poor man once. My dead father patronised and gave him land, garden, and everything, but now he calls my father a liar, and so he must be punished.' I then sent word to all the chief men of the village, and told them to come over to my place that night.
"Accordingly, at about seven o'clock, all the people, including the parties of the dispute and the Kahokachan (village judge), assembled, and as this was a family quarrel, I asked the judge to investigate the case, and settle the matter according to their own customs. A good deal of argument then took place between Offandi and 'Friend of England,' the crowd, acting as jurors, gave their opinion, and at last the judge made a long speech, in which he pointed out the faults of both parties, and ended the case by ordering them to be reconciled. 'Friend of England' apologised to Offandi, admitting his bad language, and the latter forgave him, everybody departing quite satisfied.
"The origin of the affair was that Offandi and 'Friend of England,' with a few others, jointly cleared a spot in the jungle to make a garden. 'David Jones,' a cousin of the former's and a junior partner in the concern, wished to plant only coconut shoots, a plan to which 'Friend of England' raised an objection, as he wanted to grow only yams and other eatables. Offandi tried to intercede on behalf of 'David Jones,' on the plea that the land was given him by his deceased father, and therefore he was at liberty to plant what he liked in the allotment. Then it appeared that 'Friend of England' said, 'Your father was a liar.' Being enraged by this, Offandi rejoined, 'Shall I dig up the bones of my father and throw them into the sea?'—a very great indignity and bad omen to the party causing it. 'Friend of England' replied,'Yes, you had better,' and hence the trouble."[218]
The cases of "amok" that occur among the Malayan peoples are, as often as not, the outcome of ill-health and long-continued brooding over some imaginary or trifling insult. Similar occurrences happen from time to time among the Nicobarese, and as they are an almost exact parallel, they possibly afford material proof as to the Malayan affinities of these people.
Sam-tat-yon was always a loafer who obtained his food gratis from the traders at Malacca, and slept in any bazaar he could. At dawn one morning, Osman—an old man—a servant of Yusuf Hussain, got up from his bed and went to the beach, and while returning to his hut, saw Sam-tat-yon coming out of it with an axe in his hand.
Osman called out to Ali Hussain and Yusuf Hussain (both foreign traders) and told them what he had seen, and Sam-tat-yon, hearing this, dropped the axe, and with a small American knife, kept for husking coconuts, attempted to kill both Ali and Yusuf. They, however, got beneath the floor of the hut and made their escape, the former with a slight wound.
Sam-tat-yon then fell upon old Osman and slew him with the knife.
He next went up to some Burmans who were gambling, and dispersed them, after doing one of them some slight injury. Sam-tat-yon then ran off to the village of Perka.
At Perka, there were sleeping in a house his brother—a man named Kichyeti,—one Chestu Chulia, and some women and children.
Sam-tat-yon entered, closed the door, and stabbing his brother first in the chest and then in the abdomen, killed him. At the first cry of Kichyeti, Chestu Chulia and the others got up, and giving the alarm, tried to snatch away the knife. Some women from a neighbouring house then came and helped to arrest the murderer, whose own wife—one of those arriving to rescue Chestu Chulia—was wounded in the struggle.
The populace not unnaturally wanted to kill Sam-tat-yon on the spot, but they were prevailed upon to keep him for trial. Not being accustomed to guarding prisoners, and not liking to keep him in any of their houses, lest they should become polluted, they prepared a strong wooden cage, similar to those made for pigs that are to be slaughtered, and left the man in it with his hands tied.
(The Nicobarese fear the presence of a desperado, and are too ignorant to know how to guard him, and for these reasons they always kill the men of whom they entertain fear.)
After three or four days of the cage, Sam-tat-yon became quite subdued, and answered any inquiries about the occurrence. He fully admitted his behaviour, but attributed no cause to it. He simply said that he had been unwell for the last month, and could not take his meals properly, that he was unable to drink coconut milk, but lived upon warm water, and that he had not slept for several nights. In such a state of health he lost his senses, and therefore committed the crime. He stated that the Mussulman who was killed by him was not an enemy, but on the other hand, he and all the traders were his friends. Regarding his brother, he said that he had been kind to him.
The proceedings of a man who wishes to obtain a name as a wizard are rather curious. He will, for instance, frequent pig wallows, and, sitting in the mud, collect the bristles left there by the pigs when cooling themselves; or again, he visits the graveyard at night and disturbs the graves. He generally lives by himself in the jungle, doing no work, but stealing pigs, chickens, and coconuts from others. Having made a reputation for witchcraft, he is held in much fear by the community, but to balance this advantage, if they consider themselves injured by his practices, it is not impossible that they may some day combine and murder him.
Besides ridding themselves of an unpleasant neighbour, it would seem that they also hope by such an action to cause the destruction of an evilly-disposed spirit.
1. "Tham Koi, son of Katha, having beaten a countryman to death in Chaura, made the following statement: 'Kanunla, a menluana (medicine man) and sorcerer, is addicted to sodomy and theft. He bewitched my father, who became very ill. I sent for Kanunla to come and shampoo my father, who gradually got worse. I became enraged with the menluana, and waited until he got on the ladder of my hut, when I struck him on the left side of the neck, so that he fell down. I went down and struck him again thrice, and he died. I then went and told my neighbours Kamrang Piko, Okio, Cher, and Tachoi what I had done, and asked them to help me remove the corpse, which we took in a canoe and threw into the sea. Kanunla did not make a noise. No one knew of this at the time because it was in the evening, and very dark. The villagers knew of it on the following morning.'" —Diary of Mr Obed Elias.
2. Tekwa was the adopted son of Iskol's father, and was always living in Iskol's house. Eventually he became a thief, and robbed the people of their fowls and pigs, and he was supposed to be a "devil-man" or wizard.
It happened that a man named Sutro died after suffering a long time from dysentery and consumption, and it was supposed by Iskol and his friends that Tekwa was the cause of this death. Tekwa perceived this, and hid himself in a place called Hat-Own; but three days later, Iskol and his friends, Natla, Sundran, and Nawi, after consulting together, brought him thence to a place called Ranai, where, after giving him toddy, they killed him by strangling him with a rope, subsequent to breaking his joints at the knees and elbows.
The same night they buried the corpse in Kofenté (the place of pollution), near the graveyard, and a day or two later, killed a couple of pigs as a ransom or sacrifice.
The reason for these murders—or popular sentences,—when not because of witchcraft, seems to be somewhat obscure, but can possibly be found in a general dislike for the victim, or for some act or event with which he is associated.
A woman of Kenuaka had been shot to death with arrows by her fellow-villagers. She was suffering badly from secondary syphilis, and was very poorly off, but the reason given as the immediate cause of her death was the untimely delivery of a still-born child. The body was buried in the usual manner, and everybody contributed cloth to wrap the corpse in, according to custom.
A double murder took place in the village of Perka, whose headman was named Kan-nyána. The victims, who were detested by the village, were put to death because of their misconduct. Six men participated in the affair, but as there was no idea among the natives that they should be punished, no one could be brought to point them out to the Agent. The testimony of witnesses showed the light in which they were regarded. Tamikal, wife of one of the deceased, stated:—"On a certain night, while I was sitting at the entrance of my house, my husband was angry with me, and attempted to thrash me. I cried aloud. Then, suddenly, a lot of men, armed with sticks, came into the house and commenced to beat the dead man. I was afraid and ran away, and cannot say what happened further, nor could I recognise any of the assailants. I am glad, however, that the two men were killed, for they were wicked men."
Kokali, son of one of the deceased, seconded the statements of his mother, and said, "I am glad that they were killed; they were very bad men; the village now enjoys peace."
The culprits were finally apprehended, and one of them, Ringangmareng, grasping a stick, cried in great anger, "Why do you call me here? I am the man who killed those wicked villains with the very stick I have now in my hand. Do you wish to handcuff me and carry me to Port Blair? Do so if you like, but you must not take mah"—pointing to the chief Kan-nyána.
(The Nicobarese possess much affection for their chiefs, and also value their tamiluanas highly. When one of the latter was being taken to Port Blair because of misconduct, the headman of his village entreated that two other men might be substituted for the "doctor.")
Suicide is not recognised as an institution of Nicobarese life, but cases of it do occur somewhat occasionally.
Pin-re-ta was a good man, very rich, and had no wife nor any enemies, and therefore his fellow-villagers could show no cause for the occurrence. One day, his servant-boy, who was sleeping in the cookhouse, was aroused by a noise as of a pig being beaten. Going down the ladder to see what was happening, he noticed that the pig-sty was in flames, and that a pig had been killed, and then he saw Pin-re-ta, who, standing below the cookhouse, axe in hand, threatened to murder him. The boy ran off to the jungle, where people were making a garden; and they, returning with him, found that Pin-re-ta, after setting fire to both his houses, had thrown himself into the flames, and was burnt to death.
While the negotiations were going on for the plot of land on which the Schoolhouse and Agent's bungalow stand, it was found that in buying land in Kar Nicobar, the bargain must be made with the chief, as overlord of all the land in the village, but that he, on his part, is bound to share the proceeds with all who are interested in it.
The price fixed on for the piece in question (about 8¼ acres) was:—twelve black suits, one piece of red cloth, six bags rice, twenty packets Chinese tobacco, and twelve bottles rum.
These things were distributed amongst the people of the village by the headman, Offandi, who retained nothing for himself; but for some time subsequently he was in bad odour for having given up the land to the Government, and for a long period the Agency was looked on with much disfavour.
The Kar Nicobarese have a deeply rooted aversion to the settlement of strangers in their midst, and more than once have expelled from their island intruding missionaries. Nowadays, great discontent is caused by the traders leaving agents to carry on business during the south-west monsoon, when the weather is not suitable for vessels to remain amongst these islands.
The habit the natives have of using their crossbows in the immediate neighbourhood of the villages is sometimes productive of fatal accidents. Two men were shooting at Sáwi, and one of them having shot at a bird and missed, the arrow in falling pierced the chest of his friend, who had run forward to recover it. Several similar mischances have occurred recently in Mūs; in the latest, a lad named Sinkin shot at a bird, and his arrow, glancing from a tree, struck a man, Ka Noe, and entered his side, causing a serious, but not fatal, wound.
The not infrequent mishaps that occur on the annual canoe voyages undertaken by the Kar Nicobarese to Chaura have much to do with the stationary condition of the population of the island. Canoes containing thirty to forty men are regularly sent out by the villages of the island, and when they meet with bad weather a total loss is not an uncommon occurrence.
During the months of October, November, and December—the first half of the north-east monsoon—or fine season, the people of Kar Nicobar live a busy life.
At first they are engaged in husking the coconuts which are to be exported to Calcutta and Moulmein. The wages they obtain for this work are the value of 100 nuts for husking 1000 nuts. They are generally paid in cloth, or two-anna bits, which are utilised by manufacture into head—or neck—ornaments.
Next they are employed in landing the goods of the Burmese kopra-makers, and in carrying the same to their villages, for as no ships can anchor on the north-east coast during the season, everything has to be transported by the natives. The people of Mūs carry the things of those traders who own stores in their villages; in like manner the villagers of Malacca go to Sáwi Bay, and carry the goods of those Burmans who dwell amongst them. They are remunerated according to the following scale:—
For carrying a 3-maund bag of rice—
| China tobacco. | Rice. | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| (a) | From Hog Point (N.-W. | of Sávi Bay) | |||||
| to | Elpanam at Mūs | 2 | packets | and | 2 | lbs. | |
| (b) | Kenmai | 3 | " | " | 2 | " | |
| (c) | Lapáti | 4 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (d) | Tapoeming Chokchuácha Kenyúaka | 5 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (e) | Tamálu | 6 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (f) | Perka | 7 | " | " | 4 | " | |
| (g) | Malacca | 8 | " | " | 4 | " | |
It costs a trader about 30 rupees to transport one cartload of goods from Mūs to Malacca.
When this work is done, the Nicobarese are employed in erecting huts, to serve the traders as bazaars. Each hut is built by contract by one man with the help of friends, and on its completion the owner has to give the contractor 14 to 20 yards of red cloth, a Burmese betel-box and a dáo, and besides this, has to supply the men with food until the work is finished.
After the hut has been built, the natives proceed to make a fence round a small compound, in order to prevent pigs from destroying the stores of kopra. For this they are remunerated separately.
While some are thus engaged, others take passages in such of the trading vessels as go to Kamorta and other islands, in order to assist in husking coconuts and making kopra, work for which they receive one nut in ten. These opportunities are much desired by the natives, since they are at liberty to take home with them any number of Chaura pots, rattans, bamboos, paddles, and canoes; and masters of trading boats are glad to employ the Kar Nicobarese, for the people of the other islands are too indolent to collect and prepare the nuts, but sell them on the trees.
While the men are so occupied, the women and children are busy helping the traders to make kopra, and for this service they are fed twice daily, and receive presents at the termination of the work.
Careful accounts are kept by the Nicobarese of their transactions in coconuts, by means of a tally-stick (kenrāta kuk, Kar Nicobar), on which all the nuts that pass from them to the traders are registered by various kinds of notches.
A regular account is kept of the months, so that festivals may be held in proper season, and a daily account is kept of a child's age until the time arrives for piercing its ears, an operation taking place soon after the first year.
Note.—Since this chapter was printed, I have learned that the Anthropological Society has made use of V. Solomon's diaries in a paper appearing in their Journal for July 1902. It is perhaps well to say here that neither the Society nor myself was aware that the same material was about to be a subject for publication elsewhere.—C. B. K.
CHAPTER VII
FAUNA OF THE ANDAMANS AND NICOBARS
Previous to entering into any details of the fauna of the Andamans and Nicobars, a glance at the depths of the surrounding ocean is interesting, and to a great extent explanatory of the peculiarities occurring in both groups: it is well known that the soundings of the adjacent seas clearly indicate the extent of time during which masses of land have been isolated, and the facts of this case seem to fully explain the variation and numerous peculiarities of the local fauna.
Preparis Island is situated at the tail of a 100-fathom (to be more particular, 50-fathom) bank projecting from the Arakan Yoma Peninsula. It is continental in its fauna, and possesses monkeys and squirrels.
Between it and the Cocos Islands is a depth of 150 fathoms.
The Andaman group, from Cocos to Little Andaman (except the South Sentinel, which is isolated), all stand on a 100-fathom bank (actually 50 fathoms).
All these are connected by a 200-fathom line with the Arakan Yoma Peninsula.
Narkondam and Barren Island both rise from a sea approaching 1000 fathoms in depth.
The Andamans and Nicobars are separated by a channel with depths of 600 fathoms.
Soundings about the Nicobars are at present very incomplete, but the Archipelago seems capable of division into two groups, each standing on a 100-fathom bank.
The northern of these consists of the compactly-situated central islands, and possibly Kar Nicobar, and is separated from the southern (Great and Little Nicobar and the adjacent islets, all perhaps surrounded by a 50-fathom line) by a channel with approximate depths of 200 fathoms.
The Nicobars stand at the termination of a 1000-fathom bank, projecting from the Arakan Yoma Peninsula, and from thence also curving east and south towards Sumatra, thus enclosing a long tongue of deep sea, over 1000 fathoms deep, that is connected with the Indian Ocean by the channel separating them from Sumatra.
This deep sea that surrounds the islands everywhere but on the north, shows that, so far as need be taken into account for present purposes, they have never been connected with the Malay Peninsula or Sumatra—a condition that is further shown by the almost total absence of any members of the Malayan fauna—although they may at one time have been a prolongation of the Arakan Hills.
"It cannot, however, be asserted that this latter theory of connection derives, primâ facie, much support from a consideration of their fauna; and if they ever were in uninterrupted communication with the Arakan Hills it must apparently have been at an immensely distant period, for not only are all the most characteristic species of the Arakan Hills, as we now find them, absent from the islands, but the latter exhibit a great number of distinct and peculiar forms, constituting, where the ornis is concerned, considerably more than one-third the number known."—Hume, Stray Feathers, vol. ii.
From the above details, it is to be inferred that not only have the Nicobars—if ever in connection with the mainland—been longest separated, but that they have also been disconnected among themselves for a great extent of time. At a later period the Andamans were cut off from the continent, and the process by which they have been broken up into islands is—except in the cases of Narkondam and Barren Island—comparatively recent. This theory is fully borne out by the greatly localised nature of the fauna, nearly every island possessing its own peculiar species of terrestrial mammals.
Mammals.
The mammalian fauna of the Andamans and Nicobars is now known to consist of 35 positively identified species, 1 sub-species, and 4 others whose status is still doubtful.
Of this total of 40 animals, 19 are found in the former (if we leave out a dugong, which, though at present reported from the Andamans, will certainly be found to occur in the Nicobars), 22 in the latter. Only two species are common to both groups, and both these are bats—Pteropus nicobaricus, a wide-flying species found also in the Malay Peninsula and Java, and P. vampyrus—of which further knowledge will doubtless show that each group possesses its own variety.
To the Andamans 12 species are peculiar, the others being Mus musculus; Felis chaus, whose identification is doubtful; 4 bats; and a monkey, Macacus coininus, in all probability introduced.
The Nicobars possess 14 peculiar species and 1 sub-species, and the remaining members are Mus alexandrinus, and 6 bats.
Not only is the peculiarity marked among the terrestrial, but among the winged animals, which form so large a part of the fauna; also, of the 7 bats occurring in the Andamans, 3 are endemic, while the same is the case with 5 of the 11 in the Nicobars.
Thus it is to be noted that in the Andamans all the 11 terrestrial mammals—except M. musculus, M. coininus (introduced?) and the doubtful F. chaus—are peculiar, and also 3 out of 7 bats; while in the Nicobars, only 1 species—M. alexandrinus—of 10 terrestrial is other than endemic, and of the 11 bats 5 (nearly half) are peculiar. Remarkable as is the state of things with regard to the terrestrial, it is equally notable where the flying mammals are concerned.
The most noteworthy features of the fauna are the preponderance of bats (16 species) and rats (13 species)—which together constitute nearly three-fourths of the total number of mammals known to occur in the islands—and the absence of practically all representatives of the ungulates, squirrels, carnivores, and flying lemurs, which are characteristic of the surrounding regions and abound on other islands at equal distance from the mainland. From the Malayan islands where these occur they differ in that "they are surrounded by water of relatively great depth, while the others lie within the 50-fathom line. This paucity of mammalian life cannot be regarded as due to an unfavourable environment, since all the natural conditions on both Andamans and Nicobars are perfectly suited to the support of a rich and varied fauna"; yet so great is it that it appears safe to assume that these, "contrary to the case with the shallow-water islands, were isolated at a time when the mammals now characteristic of the mainland did not exist there." In fact, we are almost driven to conclude that they never were at any time a portion of the continent, but were formerly only far nearer to it, far larger and far more compactly situated—a hypothesis that is further supported by an investigation of the birds appertaining to them.
"As yet no species have been discovered whose origin may be referred to the remote period of a land connection: such mammals as are now known are evidently of very recent origin, as in scarcely an instance has their differentiation progressed further than in the case of members of the same genera found on islands lying in shallow water. The question at once arises, therefore, as to the means by which they have arrived where they now are. Flights from the mainland would readily account for the distribution of the bats; but the presence of the other mammals seems impossible to explain otherwise than through the agency of man. With the single exception of Tupai nicobarica,[219] all are types well known to be closely associated with man throughout the Malayan region. Moreover, the period of time necessary to the development of the peculiarities of the native Andamanese would undoubtedly be ample to allow the formation of any of the species known from either group of islands, since in a biologic sense it has been vastly longer to the smaller, more rapidly breeding, animals than to man. The introduction, intentional or otherwise, of a pig, a monkey, a palm-civet, two or three species of rats, a shrew, and perhaps also a tree-shrew, at about the time when the various islands were peopled by their present human inhabitants, would amply account for the existence of the present mammal fauna with its striking peculiarities."
The following tabular summary shows the distribution of the fauna among the islands. (The letter A indicates material obtained by Dr Abbott, the letter R a previous record; an asterisk denotes occurrence beyond the Andamans and Nicobars; doubtful species have a note of interrogation placed against them; and those in italics have been described as new from the collections made during the cruise of the Terrapin):—
Synopsis of the Mammalian Fauna of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.[220]
| Name. | Andaman Islands. | Nicobar Islands. | |||||||||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| South Andaman. | Rutland Island. | Little Andaman. | Henry Lawrence Island. | Little Jolly Boy. | Barren Island. | No island specified. | Kar Nicobar. | Tilanchong Island. | Trinkat Island. | Kamorta Island. | Nankauri Island. | Kachal Island. | Little Nicobar. | Great Nicobar. | No island specified. | ||
| *Dugong dugon | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Sus andamanensis | R | RA | |||||||||||||||
| Sus nicobaricus | A | R | |||||||||||||||
| *Mus musculus | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus palmarum | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus bowersi(?) | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus stoicus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus taciturnus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus flebilis | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus andamanensis | RA | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus pulliventer | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus atratus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus burrus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus burrulus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Mus burrescens | A | ||||||||||||||||
| *Mus alexandrinus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Paradoxurus tytleri | RA | ||||||||||||||||
| *Felis chaus(?) | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Tupaia nicobarica nicobarica | RA | ||||||||||||||||
| Tupaia nicobarica surda | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Crocidura nicobarica | A | ||||||||||||||||
| Crocidura andamanensis | A | ||||||||||||||||
| *Scotophelus temminchii | R | ||||||||||||||||
| *Tylonycteris pachypus | R | ||||||||||||||||
| *Pipistrellus tichelli | R | ||||||||||||||||
| *Pipistrellus tenuis(?) | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Pipistrellus camortæ | A | ||||||||||||||||
| *Miniopterus pusillus | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Rhinolophus andamanensis | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Hipposideros nicobaricus | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Hipposideros nicobarulæ | A | R | |||||||||||||||
| *Hipposideros murinus(?) | R | ||||||||||||||||
| *Pteropus nicobarus | R | R | R | A | A | R | |||||||||||
| Pteropus faunulus | A | ||||||||||||||||
| *Pteropus rampyrus | R | R | |||||||||||||||
| Cynopterus brachyotis | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Cynopterus brachysoma | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Cynopterus scherzeri | RA | ||||||||||||||||
| *Macacus coininus | R | ||||||||||||||||
| Macacus umbrosus | A | A | A | R | |||||||||||||
Birds.
The birds of the Andamans and Nicobars have always been better known than the mammals, particularly since Mr A. O. Hume, with a number of collectors, made a cruise round the islands in a steamer in 1873, which resulted in the discovery of many new species, and a careful analysis of the avifauna.
In spite of what is to be expected from their position, the islands derive the bulk of their species from the distant Indian region, while the Indo-Burmese and Indo-Malayan regions are represented to a far less degree.
One of the most striking features is the extreme paucity of rasorial birds—peafowl, junglefowl, pheasants, partridges, or any of the natural genera into which these divide, and which are all well represented in the Arakan Hills. The next point is the highly specialised character of the ornis, for, excluding waders and swimmers, more than a third of the species are peculiar to the islands; while still more remarkable is the extent to which it is localised in the several groups between which is nowhere a break of more than 80 miles. Even more noteworthy are the details: for instance, the Andaman Hypothymis, which, as a rule, is a very distinct form, is replaced in the Nicobars by one which, although not precisely identical with the Indian form, is far more closely allied to this than the Andaman Tytleri. Each group has its distinct harrier eagle, red-cheeked paroquet, oriole, sunbird, and bulbul. Two woodpeckers are peculiar to the Andamans, but neither extends to the Cocos or Nicobars. The latter group possesses three distinct but closely allied species of Astur, each confined to separate islands.
So far as the species not peculiar to the islands are concerned, the influence of the Indian sub-region has vastly predominated; and if we look to the genera the preponderance is still more marked, and thus it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that the ornis has altogether a very far stronger affinity with that of the Indian region than with those of either the Indo-Burmese or the Indo-Malayan. Yet this involves great difficulties, for if we take Port Blair as a centre we shall find that its average distance in all directions north and east from Tenasserim (where the Indo-Malayan fauna predominates), and north of this from the Indo-Burmese sub-region, is less than half its distance from the nearest point of the Indian sub-region.
That so many of the characteristic birds of the Arakan Hills, especially the Rasores, should be entirely wanting, we may partly account for by the supposition that the mountains and the chain of islands never were continuous, and that the same agency that raised the Arakan Hills only raised portions of their continuation above the sea-level, so that, therefore, the islands have never been connected with Pegu. If, however, the groups first appeared and have ever since remained as detached islands, it is inconceivable how the great bulk of the work of colonisation should have gone on from a region so distant while so little should have been done from others less than half as far away.
Colonisation in no ordinary sense, however, can explain these facts. But the case of Sumatra, which, although only 80 miles distant from Great Nicobar, and itself the first link of a great chain, teems right up to Acheen Head with species unknown to the Nicobars, is perfectly comprehensible in the light of our knowledge of the deep sea existing between it and these latter islands.[221]
If we conclude that the avifauna of the islands of the Bengal Sea is essentially Indian and not Indo-Burmese and Indo-Malayan, we must accept the fact with the qualification that we find it here in a most imperfect and mutilated form, lacking more or less entirely a large proportion of its characteristic genera, many of which are the strongest and most widely distributed, and to which the climate would appear in every way congenial.[222]
List of Birds occurring in the Andamans and Nicobars.[223]
(A. denotes occurrence in the Andamans, N. in the Nicobars.)