On 27th February, towards evening, after a stay of seven days on the north side of Kar-Nicobar, which had been spent in scientific operations of the most varied nature, we again set sail, and next morning cast anchor on the south side of the same island, close to the village of Komios. The current, which at this point sets to the E.S.E., runs about three miles an hour, so long as the flood-tide continues, but as soon as the ebb-tide sets in, it chops round, and runs with greatly diminished velocity. The landings on the south side, which, on leaving the northern promontory, shows a much richer vegetation, are somewhat difficult to discover, since at almost all points reefs and coral banks project from the shore far into the sea, so that after doubling the cape it is necessary to stop short a pretty considerable distance from the land.

While we were coasting along the eastern shore we could perceive through the telescope, at the village of Lapáte, consisting of some eight or ten huts, a great number of women and children, who were rushing to and fro among the huts in the utmost confusion, till suddenly all disappeared in the forest. These were evidently fugitives from the north side, who were now once more betaking themselves to the forest, accompanied by the native females of the east and south sides, when they saw the dreaded floating giant approaching them. A beach of dazzling white coral sand, sprinkled over with thousands of living mussels, low melancholy-looking mangrove swamps, and a superb forest of trees with lofty stems, through which lay a beaten footpath, was all that the flat shore offered to our view. The Frenchman already mentioned had indeed apprized the inhabitants of our arrival, and had endeavoured to explain to them our friendly intention, but it was in vain,—the greater portion of the population had taken to flight, and only dogs and armed men were left behind. Here also we could not see a single woman. However, we were informed by M. Tigard, who lived several weeks in the village of Kankéna, and had been treated by the natives as one of themselves, that the Nicobar women have their hair cut quite short, and simply wind round their dusky bodies, all smeared with oil, a piece of white or red calico at the loins. They are generally ugly, but strictly virtuous, and regard the Europeans as an inferior race, as compared with their native lords.

As we were making for the land in what is called Komios Bay, near the village of the same name (situate according to our observations in 9° 37′ 32″ N. Lat. and 92° 43′ 42″ E. Long.), a number of stalwart natives approached us from the forest, one of whom, who called himself Captain Wilkinson, proved to be the most intelligent and graceful of their number. He was extremely eager to give us a lot of information respecting the more southerly islands of the Nicobar Archipelago, with which the inhabitants of the southern coast appear to carry on more extensive commerce than those on the northern shore. During the N.E. monsoons, canoes occasionally start hence for the islands of Teressa, Bampoka, and Chowry. Wilkinson himself once visited these islands in the barque Cecilia of Moulmein, with the view of fetching cocoa-nuts. The natives of Teressa, however, showed such determined hostility to the captain of the vessel, that Wilkinson advised him to abandon the island without further delay, ere the intended shipment of cocoa-nuts was completed.

Another English captain, named Iselwood, seems once to have carried over some natives of Teressa to Kar-Nicobar, and afterwards taken them back again. There does not exist, however, any regular commercial intercourse between Kar-Nicobar and the remaining islands of the Archipelago. The boats of the natives are much too small, and unsuitable to admit of their undertaking voyages to any distance, unless for some very important purpose, such, for instance, as bringing pottery ware from the island of Chowry, or Chowra, where alone in the Archipelago that manufacture is carried on.

The Frenchman, Tigard, affirmed that the natives constantly spoke of another race of men inhabiting the interior, who have but one eye in the middle of the forehead, who possess no fixed habitation, but pass the night among the trees like wild beasts, and subsist upon fruits and roots dug up in the forest. This superstition meets with the more ready acceptance among the natives, as not one of them has ever penetrated into the interior. All their villages lie along the shore, as far as the tract of coral sand reaches and the cocoa-nut is thriving. Here the frugal native finds all that is necessary to satisfy his very limited requirements. The cocoa-palm and the screw-pine (Pandanus odoratissima), whose fruit forms his chief article of food, as also the betel shrub and the Areca palm, which furnish their cherished masticatory, grow here, and the coral sand, which can be worked into the most excellent lime for building purposes, is only used by them for the purpose of obtaining that ingredient so prejudicial to the teeth, which serves to impart to the betel the proper relish.

From a passing observation of Wilkinson's we gathered that occasionally, during the S.W. monsoons, earthquakes are experienced at Kar-Nicobar, and this volcanic indication is yet more strongly marked on the adjoining island of Bampoka. Despite the almost stifling heat, which raised the column of mercury to 99° in the shade, some of the members of the expedition endeavoured to penetrate, with indescribable toil, into the swampy forest tract along the shore, and eventually succeeded in bringing back several objects which, though few in number, were of the utmost importance, and well repaid their labour. Among the animals knocked over, there was a gigantic bat, or flying Maki (Pterops), the native name of which is Daiahm.

A foot-track led direct through the forest, cutting off the southern corner of the island towards the western side. The natives had in vain endeavoured, with their customary importunities, to deter us from following this path, assuring us that we should land ourselves in the thick of the jungle, which was full of poisonous serpents. However, nothing would serve us but to penetrate for once a little deeper into the forest. A youthful native, of the most elegant and symmetrical proportions, followed us at a long interval, but disappeared finally in the woods. We wandered along in deep shadow between lofty colossal banyan trees with hundreds of stems, and trunks interlaced with enormous branches of ivy, from whose summits hung down lianas of all sizes and dimensions, by which one might have clambered to the top as though by a rope, between trees with smooth and glossy, or scarred and rugged, bark, which were thickly overgrown with parasitical plants. Enormous crabs, with fiery red claws, and bodies of the most lovely blue-black, fled before us to their lurking-places in the depth of the forest. On right and left amid the parched foliage was heard the rustling of lizards, and from the summits of the imposing forest trees resounded the musical hum of swarms of cicadæ, while green and rose-coloured parrots flew shrieking from branch to branch, and from the boughs and tendrils was heard the call of the Mania, or the cooing, murmuring love-note of the great Nicobar wood-pigeon. Gradually the noise of the surf became once more audible, like distant thunder, just where a few cocoa-nut palms and screw-pines mingled with the laurel trees around. We had reached the beach again.

The same day, towards 4 P.M., the frigate quitted the south coast of Kar-Nicobar, and steered in a S.S.E. direction towards the little island of Batte-Malve, about twenty-one miles distant, in the neighbourhood of which we kept beating about the whole of the following day, without being able, in consequence of a stiff breeze and strong contrary current, to approach it sufficiently near for a boat to get to land, and thus enable us to make a more complete examination. Batte-Malve is a small, entirely uninhabited island, some two miles in length, and seems to be of a quadrangular form; the upper portion is thickly wooded; the highest elevation being from 150 to 200 feet. Towards the N.W. the island becomes somewhat flattened when approaching the coast, whereas on the west side, as also on the S. and S.E. shores, the rocks descend perpendicularly into the sea. According to our observations, instituted on the spot, there is in the longitude, as we ascertained it, when compared with that assigned by the officers of the Galatea, a discrepancy of ten nautical miles.

Early on the morning of the 3rd of March, while still to the N.W. of Batte-Malve, but steering a S.E. course, the islands of Teressa, Chowry, and Bampoka became visible at a distance of from eight to ten nautical miles. From the main-mast-head we could also descry further to the eastward the island of Tillangschong, to which we were now proceeding.

Next morning we found ourselves close in with its N.E. promontory. Both wind and weather were highly favourable, the look-out man was stationed upon the fore-top, the lead line on being hove overboard with forty fathoms found no bottom, and the water had the deep blue colour of the open ocean. We were therefore able to approach the shore fearlessly, and accordingly stood in till we were barely 100 feet distant from the steep octagonal-shaped cliff, which rises like a bastion at the north extremity of the island. We now edged off with the frigate and ran under the lee of the land, coasting along the west side from north to south, never above 150 or 200 feet distant from the shore; so close, in short, that, standing on the deck, it seemed almost possible to stretch out the hand and touch the beetling shore-cliffs, every stone and shrub being perfectly distinguishable. Only a narrow rocky belt overhanging the surf appeared barren of vegetation, the entire island with that exception being covered with dense forest to the very summits, from 400 to 600 feet in height, of the steep, projecting, knob-like eminences. It was a delightful, never-to-be-forgotten sail along this rock-bound coast, the romantic beauties of which passed before us like green dissolving views. The sea was so smooth and peaceful that we seemed to be sailing on a mill-pond. At last we opened a small sandy cove, in which we perceived a few cocoa-nut palms directly opposite. Here the lead promised us good holding ground, and the anchor was accordingly let go.

One of the side-boats conveyed to land the officers entrusted with the astronomical operations, as also the naturalists. Only with the utmost difficulty was it possible to make way through the surf, and get under the lee of a reef, whence it was requisite to make a spring to get ashore. At the spot at which we landed (named by us Morrock's Cove, and according to observation in 8° 32′ 30″ N. and 93° 34′ 10″ E.) the island was almost exclusively clothed with trees and brushwood. Only close to the shore did any cocoa-nut palms present themselves to the view. Although quite uninhabited at the period of our visit, it was evident, by the traces of abandoned fire-places, split cocoa-nuts, and so forth, that human beings occasionally make this island their abode, albeit the assertion repeated by several writers, that Tillangschong is the Siberia of Nicobar criminals, can only be set down to travellers' tales, or some utter misapprehension of the meaning of the natives. It would seem that the residents in Chowra and Bampoka come to this island from time to time, for the purpose of collecting cocoa-nuts, and the fruit of the pandanus. By dint of strenuous exertion we made our way along river-courses, which during the rainy season must rush down as most violent torrents, through a thick plantation of screw-pines, into the forest proper, which was overgrown with the most majestic representatives of tropical vegetation. To the botanist presented itself a great variety of interesting plants and timber; to the lovers of sport numerous descriptions of birds, and more especially pigeons, in such quantities that the various messes on board ship were amply provided with them.

Sundown saw us returned on board, when the anchor was once more weighed. During the night we got so close in with the north side of the island that, on the following morning, a boat well-manned and carefully equipped was detached with one of the officers, who was instructed to round the northernmost promontory, in order to examine the northern and eastern sides of the island, and rejoin us on its southern shore. One of the zoologists, conceiving this minor expedition would furnish him with an excellent opportunity for examining some of the lower orders of marine life, attached himself to it. The frigate now put about, and coasted down the west side southwards. Seen from a distance the vegetation seemed quite of a European character. The eminences varied in elevation from 250 to 300 feet. Judging from the direction of the foliage on the trees, the S.W. monsoon seems to commit great ravages. Everywhere along the coast, but more especially on the south side, serpentine cropped out—giving little promise of fertility. At many spots the cocoa-palms disappeared entirely; a circumstance which must ever interfere materially with the settlement of this island by a people to whom the most profuse natural treasures are worthless and unknown, beyond wealth in cocoa-nuts.

Near the southern point we were suddenly alarmed at noticing an alteration in the colour of the sea, which led us to suspect the proximity of a sand-bank. Nevertheless a boat, lowered to try for soundings, found no bottom at 45 fathoms. In fact, the water was found to be transfused with an enormous mass of crustaceæ, and small brownish filaments of ¹⁄₄₈ to ¹⁄₁₂ of an inch in length, occasionally collected into a knot, which rendered it cloudy and muddy, and at once explained a phenomenon at first sight so unexpected. Towards 5 P.M. we passed the southern point of the island, and somewhat later discovered a well-sheltered anchorage on the S.E. side of the island.

Considerable anxiety was felt as the sun went down, since the boat that had been dispatched not only had not rejoined us but was not yet even visible. As soon as darkness had fairly set in, blue lights were burnt on board the frigate, of which the third was at last responded to by the crew of the boat, which had been provided with port-fires for such a contingency. It seemed to be steering for the frigate. Hour after hour, however, flew by without its approaching us, and the rest of our signals remained unanswered. Thus morning broke, and still no boat was visible.

At length, about 7.30 A.M., the anxiously expected little wanderer hove in sight at a little distance, and half an hour later she came alongside all safe. The projected operations had been only partially successful, owing to the extreme difficulty in making a landing. Surprised by nightfall, it was no longer practicable to make out the ten nautical miles at least they were still distant from the frigate, and the scanty crew consequently saw nothing for it but to anchor close in with the shore, and await the light of dawn in the boat. The cause of our later blue lights not being answered, was partly the want of a sufficient supply of signal lights, part having been already expended, and the rest having got damp.

We now steered for Nangkauri harbour. Full in view lay the north shore of the island of Kamorta, and, as we glided smoothly thither over the glassy sea, it loomed gradually nearer; an island of flat-topped hills, which, despite its rank vegetation, had a park-like aspect, consequent on the alternations of forest and grass-slopes with the white coral beach, crowned with cocoa-palms. Gradually the island of Tringkut came into view, singularly level, and abounding in cocoa-palms and edible sea-slugs (Trepang), lying directly facing the entrance of the harbour-like channel, between Kamorta and Nangkauri. Our course, on which we were being propelled on a beautiful evening by a gentle soft wind which wafted us slowly but surely forwards, was indeed entrancingly delicious. Directly ahead lay the low strand of Tringkut, shimmering whitely under the dark green canopy of foliage, while the long swell, breaking on the coral reefs like glancing walls of foam, sunk away in the distance into the smooth mirror-like sea, which rose and fell almost imperceptibly, as though peacefully breathing. On the left lay Nangkauri, with its forests. On both sides of Kamorta and Nangkauri, huts and villages were visible sprinkled along the shore, from which numerous natives put off in their canoes to the frigate, but presently lay on their oars at a respectful distance, and followed us like a sort of squadron of observation. On the right was visible in mid-channel between Tringkut and Kamorta the solitary rocky island of Tillangschong; the shores of all these islands, and indeed the whole horizon, being lit up with a gorgeous Fata Morgana. The extreme southernmost cliffs of Tillangschong seemed to be suspended entirely in the air. The corners, at which jutted out the coast-lines of Tringkut and Kamorta, seen along the horizon of the ocean resembled wedge-shaped incisions into the domain of the atmosphere; while the tips of the waves, lashed into foam as they broke upon them, seemed as if dancing in the air. The canoes of the natives were reflected upside down, till the figures seated in them were so enormously lengthened that one could almost fancy they were gigantic 'genii' disporting on the surface of the sea.

As we were sailing along in front of the village of Malacca into the splendid harbour, and just as the lead had almost a moment before marked 23 fathoms, the look-out man suddenly descried a shoal. Notwithstanding the manœuvres that were at once put in execution, it was found impossible to get entirely clear, and the frigate grounded forward of the beam on the port-side. Although it was ebb-tide, yet deep water was observable both ahead and astern, and accordingly an effort was made, by running out the guns and laying out a spring for the frigate to haul upon, to get the ship once more afloat, which accordingly speedily proved successful, so that by sundown we were enabled to anchor in good holding ground, opposite the village of Itoe, in the island of Nangkauri.

Here we lay in a calm, tranquil sheet of water, such as we had not fallen in with throughout our voyage hitherto, surrounded by dense forest, from which were heard distinctly, on board ship, the disagreeable shrill sound of innumerable crickets, and the deep coo of the great Nicobar wood-pigeon. Except for these, the most profound stillness reigned. There was not the smallest movement either in sea or sky. Although on our excursion to Kar-Nicobar we had to endure great heat, it was here that for the first time we experienced in all its discomfort the oppressive, relaxing sultriness of the tropical atmosphere, when saturated with vapour. The thermometer stood pretty regularly at 84° to 86° Fahr., nor was it possible to find any relief by plunging into the water, which was if anything even warmer than the air. Hemmed in on all sides, and with the welcome beneficent sea-breeze frequently ceasing to blow for a week together, it was speedily pronounced a riddle, impossible to be solved, how this harbour came to be once and again selected by German and Danish Missionaries for the purposes of colonization, unless the key to the mystery be found in its secure situation, the exquisite beauty of the mountain landscape, and the numerous clear spots around.

The very morning after our arrival we set out on a small reconnoitring excursion to examine the ground, in order to decide, among so many objects claiming our attention at once, what, considering the brief time at our disposal, we might hope to undertake successfully, and what must once for all be abandoned. Our first visit was to the village of Itoe, which lay directly opposite our frigate's anchorage. The natives had all fled into the forest, only their dogs having remained behind, who saluted us with a tremendous howl. The huts, six or eight in number, had a poor, miserable appearance, and were built close to a cocoa forest, so that there was not the slightest space to move about in between the huts, the forest, and the luxuriant underwood, so that free circulation of air was entirely prevented. In front of the village a number of Bamboo poles, with large bunches of ribbons waving about from their upper end, were stuck into the water, for the purpose of frightening away the evil spirit or Eewee, and driving him into the sea! In the interior of these few huts built of stakes, and of much inferior construction to those in Kar-Nicobar, was a large number of rudely cut figures of all possible sizes, and every variety of position, suspended by strings, and supplying the most unmistakeable evidence of the superstitions of the natives. We had never seen these kinds of charms against the evil spirit at Kar-Nicobar, nor had even heard them spoken of. Quite close to the huts was the place of interment. At one grave, apparently quite lately used, a large pole was erected, which was adorned with innumerable white and blue stripes waving in the wind, and from which had also been suspended axes, piles, bars, nails, and other tools and implements of labour of the deceased, so that the whole scene much more resembled a rag-shop than a grave heap.

From Itoe we proceeded to the peak of Monghata, on the island of Kamorta, lying just opposite Nangkauri. It was here that, in 1831, Pastor Rosen wished to found the projected settlement. He could hardly have selected a more unsuitable site, since all around is either dense forest or mangrove swamp. The spots that had been cleared are now overgrown with Saccharum Konigii (Lalang grass), of the height of a man, which usually follows here upon spots that have been once cultivated and are afterwards abandoned, and which, if once taken root, can only with the utmost difficulty be eradicated. From this peak, barely 200 feet in height, it is practicable to descend by a small footpath to the cove of Ulàla, whose shores are entirely overrun with dense impassable mangrove swamp, and accordingly present a most dreary, gloomy aspect.

Our next excursion was to the village of Enuang or Enong, where lay at anchor, under the British flag, two Malay prahus from Pulo Penang, manned by Malay crews, and taking in cargoes of ripe cocoa-nuts, edible birds' nests, and sea-slugs, or Trepang. The captain of one of these prahus and the greater number of the crew were laid up with fever. The supercargo, a Chinese named Owi-Bing-Hong, spoke English fluently, and was of the utmost service to us in our communications with the natives. Enuang is larger than Itoe, and has about a dozen huts, but these are one and all half-ruinous, very filthy, and utterly neglected. In all the huts we found numbers of figures, cut in white wood in the very rudest style in various postures, mostly with a threatening, combative expression, intended to drive away the evil spirit, of whom the natives seem to stand in great dread; for it is the universal practice of these islanders to ascribe whatever happens to them to the influence of an evil spirit, and probably also the appearance of the Novara in the harbour of Nangkauri was laid to the account of the ill intentions of an Eewee. One constantly sees fruit, tobacco, or betel-leaves, prepared with pearl-lime, strewed in small portions at various spots in the interiors of the huts, or suspended on the bamboo ladders by which they are entered, the object being to propitiate the Eewee in the event of his being hungry on his arrival! In one of the abandoned huts we discovered a figure resembling a cat, rudely carved in wood, before which the natives had placed tobacco and cocoa-nuts; almost all these figures were besmeared with soot, and daubed with some red pigment, and their abdomens hung with long pendent dried palm-leaves.

Not one of the natives at Enuang understood English. Only a couple of old men spoke a few words of Portuguese, of which they were not a little conceited. The Portuguese, in the 17th and 18th centuries, seem to have been the first European nations that had any commercial dealings with the Nicobar islanders. A number of words of their language, all referring to objects of civilization, and but little corrupted from the Portuguese, such for instance as "pang" (for pan, the Portuguese for bread), "zapato" (shoe), "cuchillo" (knife), and so forth, are evidences of this. The natives here seemed to us yet more hideous than those of Kar-Nicobar, especially as the everlasting betel-chewing had disfigured their mouths in the most shocking manner. It is however incorrect to allege, as has been the case hitherto, that they avail themselves of a particular substance with which to discolour the teeth, and which it was supposed induced this frightful distortion of the mouth; it is unquestionably only the abuse of the betel (consisting of Areca-nut, betel-leaves, and coral chalk) which causes these disgusting disfigurements. At this settlement also the women and children had disappeared. Only one native woman, married to a Malay from Pulo Penang, who was at the moment officiating as cook on board one of the prahus lying at anchor in the bay, had the courage to present herself before us. She was, according to the custom of the Malays, dressed in silk, but bore on her body all the disagreeable traces of her Nicobar origin. She showed no reluctance to talk with us, and, in her somewhat scanty toilette, was the one solitary native woman with whom we found an opportunity of communicating during our entire stay at the various islands.

From Enuang we visited the first settlement of the Moravian Brothers, lying on the small neck of land between Enuang and Malacca, where apparently the amiable Father Hänsel seems to have lived, for whose interesting memoir, narrating his many years' residence upon the Nicobar Islands, we were indebted to the kindness of Dr. Rosen of the Moravian Mission at Genaadendal in South Africa.[13] At present all is once more thick majestic forest; a marvellous leafy dome, like a green pantheon, encircles and overshadows the scene of the once benevolent activity of the devoted missionary. Only a ruined well and a few brick fragments of what was the oven, lying about, remain to show that a dwelling once stood here. At the well there were a variety of beautiful flowers growing between the stones. The place is still called, as then, Tripjet, or the "Habitation of the Friends." Here in quick succession most of the Brethren died, (no fewer than eleven out of the thirteen,) upon which the mission was transferred to the opposite island of Kamorta, first of all to the clearing at Kalaha, and ultimately to Kamút. But all these sites were as ill-selected as the first. An abode located between swamp and forest, of which latter only a space of barely 1000 feet in circumference was cleared, could not but prove fatal in a very short space of time to the unfortunate colonists. At the village of Enuang too it would seem to be that the last attempt at founding a settlement was made in 1835 by the two French missionaries; at least we were informed by several natives, who seemed to be at present about 34 to 36 years of age, that they were themselves but boys when the last missionaries lived at Nangkauri. They also further recollected that the gigantic cocoa-palms, which at present skirt the forest, were at that time quite small saplings, and the only vegetation between the beach and the mission house. At present enormous roots are stretching over the foundations of the earlier settlement. The natives who accompanied us spoke with warm feeling of the missionaries, and seemed to regret their departure. Many professed themselves with much earnestness to be Christians, but they were so only in name. According to what they reported, many natives must at that period have been baptized in the islands of Chowra and Bampoka.

During this visit to Enuang and Malacca, it had been one of the objects aimed at by the members of the Expedition to draw up a small vocabulary of the language of the natives, when it speedily appeared that, despite the proximity of the two islands, the dialects used by the inhabitants were entirely different. Even for trees and plants, for the feathered inhabitants of the forests, as well as domestic animals, the inhabitants of the central groups of islands have different names. The cocoa-palm and its noble fruit, the betel and its ingredients, are here known by entirely different names. The accurate transcription of each individual word into German as pronounced by the native was hard work. It took us two days to make a vocabulary of one hundred words! And even this slight success would have been impossible but for our serviceable Chinese friend, Bing-Hong, who had gone to school for two years at Pulo Penang, and could read and write English with tolerable readiness and accuracy. The distortion of their mouths is one main reason why the natives pronounce the greater number of their words almost unintelligibly; it is more a lisping mutter than a language. Hence, apparently, their ability to follow out the concatenation of ideas is so slightly developed, that it is only with much difficulty they can be made to comprehend the particular subject respecting which the information was wanted. For example, if it was wished to know the word in their language which expressed "blue," and in order to make more intelligible what was required, a variety of objects of a blue colour were pointed out, they almost invariably named the object itself, and not the colour. Or again, one wanted to know what they called "leaf" in their language, and indicated the leaf of a tree standing near; the native, however, replies by giving the name of the tree itself, instead of the word expressing leaf. It seems to us not unimportant to call attention to this circumstance, in order more completely to lay before the reader the great and manifold obstacles which present themselves in drawing up vocabularies of the languages of half-savage races, and thus more readily secure indulgence for the discrepancies which are frequently to be met with in such works.[14]

Bing-Hong invited us to pay him a visit on board his vessel, which had already been lying for several months at anchor in Nangkauri harbour, taking in a cargo of ripe cocoa-nuts, of which a Picul, or 133 ¹⁄₃ pounds, is worth in the Pulo Penang market 5 ¹⁄₂ American dollars (£1 3s. sterling). This hospitable Chinese informed us it was at the period of our visit the least unhealthy season in Nangkauri harbour: that as soon as the S.W. monsoon sets in, all foreign ships hurry away, through dread of the illnesses that follow in its track. However, feverish attacks are of daily occurrence throughout the year. Of the thirteen men who formed the crew of the barque, ten were laid up with fever. The disorderly habits of life, however, of foreign visitors are much more to blame for these frequent attacks of disease than the unhealthiness of the climate. Constantly they are guilty of excesses in diet and general negligence of health, bathing during the utmost heat of the day without any covering to the head, exposing themselves to the burning rays of the noonday sun, drinking for the most part nothing but the fluid contents of the unripe cocoa-nut, eating quantities of juicy fruits, the constant use of which acts injuriously on the systems of strangers, and sleeping on the damp soil under the open air, exposed to all the noxious influences of the atmosphere of a tropical forest without the slightest shelter. Bing-Hong showed us the dried edible nests of the Hirundo esculenta (in Malay Salang, in Nicobar Hegái), and presented us with a small packet of about thirty nests. When properly dried, seventy-two of these tiny nests weigh one catty, or 1 ¹⁄₄ lb., and they are sold at two rupees (4s.) for three of the inferior sort. The best quality is far more expensive. We caused some of these Chinese dainties to be prepared exactly as prescribed by Bing-Hong, that is to say, they were boiled for one hour in hot water, but we found the gelatinous mass quite tasteless, and, in fact, resembling dissolved gum. The swallow which constructs these edible nests does not however seem to be a regular visitant of the Nicobar Islands, and the profits on this article of commerce, which is of such importance in Java and the rest of the Sunda Islands, are here scarcely worth naming.

It has been long disputed whence this industrious little warbler obtains the material for his nest, and it was in all probability the circumstance that it was generally believed to consist of particles of sea-weed, fish-roe, and marine animalculæ of the medusa class, which secured for these nests such a celebrity among Chinese gourmands. A German naturalist, Professor Troschel of Bonn, affirms however, on the strength of an analysis of these nests, that the notion hitherto prevalent as to the component parts of these nests is entirely erroneous, as they consist of nothing else than a thick, glutinous slime, secreted from the salivary glands, which, at the period when the Indian swallow builds its nest, swell out into large whitish masses. This slime, which is susceptible of being drawn out in long filaments from the bill of the animal, is quite analogous to gum Arabic. Whenever the bird is desirous of constructing its nest, it causes this salivary substance, which at that period is copiously secreted, to adhere to the crags, till its elegant nest is finished.

One of the days during which the frigate lay in Nangkauri harbour, the geologist of the Expedition made an excursion in a native canoe along the coasts of Kamorta and Tringkut, as these islands at the points where the shores are precipitous furnish the only possible geognostic facilities, the forest or the thick covering of vegetation in the interior of the island quite concealing the geological conformation. Our Chinese friend Bing-Hong aforesaid accompanied him in the capacity of interpreter. When the geologist had got some distance from the frigate, he found that the natives had not abandoned their villages, and to this one alone of our fellow-travellers, manned and rowed along by natives, did some of the women become visible. They were as tall as the men, and quite as loathsome in appearance, the mouth similarly disfigured by betel-chewing, but the hair cut short. Around the body they wore a petticoat of red or blue cloth, reaching from the loins to the knee.

Another excursion was made to Ulàla Cove, distant about four nautical miles from our anchorage on the W. side of the island of Kamorta, on which occasion our Venetian gondola, specially constructed for similar expeditions, was pressed into the service. The entrance to the cove is about ³⁄₄ of a mile in breadth, after which it expands in an easterly direction with varying width, at the same time sending off arms in every direction. The vegetation is exceedingly luxuriant and plentiful, and along the swampy shore consists mainly of mangrove bushes, which at most points make it almost impracticable to disembark, and impart to the entire bay a dreary, desolate appearance. At the few villages scattered along the shore, most of the natives had taken to flight. On this occasion, however, it was not child-like terror that had driven them away, but an evil conscience, for among the other inhabitants this bay enjoys the sad reputation of having on various occasions massacred the crews of small vessels, after having plundered them of everything. So strong is this feeling that the natives of the rest of the Nicobar group, according to their own report, refuse to have anything to do with this ferocious set, and could not by any means be induced to accompany us in their canoes as far as Ulàla Cove.

The frigate lay five days in Nangkauri harbour, until the soundings and general survey of this large bay with its numerous branches had been completed, when, on the morning of the 11th March, she sailed, with a fresh breeze from N.W., through the western entrance, which is scarcely a hundred fathoms wide, by fourteen in depth, and is marked by two rocky pinnacles. Directly opposite lies the island of Katchal, thickly wooded to the water-edge, and stretching out long and low, without any marked elevation above sea-level. We now sailed in between these islands of Katchal and Kamorta in a northerly direction towards the islands of Teressa and Bampoka. On the W. side of Kamorta a number of villages were visible; on the N.W. we perceived at several spots natural meadows, while hereabouts the land gradually culminated into the highest point of the island,—a conical hill, rising not very far from the shore, almost entirely without trees, except where near the summit a number of bushes and shrubs nestled in a sort of hollow. Three days were now lost in unsuccessful attempts to make head-way against wind and tide, so that for four mortal days we were tossed about in full view of Bampoka, Teressa, and Chowra, never indeed above twenty miles distant, yet utterly unable to make any one of them. As the time at our disposal for visiting these was exhausted in consequence of this unexpected difficulty, we were, very much to our regret, compelled to forego the satisfaction of setting foot on either of these islands, which, especially Chowra, would have presented a rare opportunity of examining the effect upon tropical races of men of an excess of population. That rather barren island possesses, it seems, more inhabitants than it has the means of subsisting, and appears to be the only spot of the entire Nicobar group where the natives follow industrial avocations. All manner of pottery ware comes from Chowra, so that it would almost seem as though the lamentable spectacle of a superabundant population had given the natives the first impulse towards active industry.

In the island of Teressa the Austrian Expedition had a more special interest, in so far as it is by no means improbable that the adventurous Bolts, who in 1778 visited the Nicobar Archipelago in the Austrian ship Joseph and Theresa, named this island, as he already had done in the case of a fort on the coast of Africa, after the renowned Austrian Empress, which, corrupted by the native dialect, had been gradually transformed into Teressa or Terassa.

At sunrise on the 17th March there loomed on the horizon in a S.E. direction, first the island of Meroe, then the two small islands of Treis and Track, and lastly the long mountain-chain of Little Nicobar, with the beautiful island of Pulo Milù. The breeze was light, and a current of a velocity of five miles an hour, which ran rushing and seething like a mill-race through the calm sea, so completely checked our progress that the anchor had to be let go. This procured us the very unexpected pleasure of visiting these two small wooded islands. Owing to the heavy surf, we only succeeded in effecting a landing by the assistance of some natives, whom we happened to fall in with in their canoes off these all but uninhabited islets. Treis is a veritable pigeon island, full of the most various and beautiful species of that bird; nevertheless we could only procure a single specimen of the exceedingly elegant Nicobar dove. Here too it was that the geologist found the first traces of brown coal, which however did not present itself in layers suitable for domestic use.

The same afternoon, with the turn of the tide the current set in our favour, and towards 10 P.M. we reached the roadstead protected to the eastward by the northernmost point of Little Nicobar, to the westward by the island of Pulo Milù, and southward by the mainland of Little Nicobar itself. It is not very large, but it has excellent holding ground, and would be available at all seasons as a harbour of refuge for vessels. As most of the villages of Little Nicobar lie on the N.W. and S. sides of the island, and were with difficulty accessible from our anchorage, it was thought preferable to select the small but beautiful island of Pulo Milù for our visit. Already, while we were lying at anchor in front of the island of Treis, a few natives had come on board the frigate, and had shown much confidence. They possessed all the characteristics of the residents of Nangkauri, and they also spoke, with but slight variations, the same idiom. Only for certain objects, and those, singular to say, articles of the very first necessity, such as cocoa-nut trees, palms, screw-pines, and the like, did they employ different expressions.

The island of Pulo Milù, with its variety of forest-vegetation, and its charming woodland-scenery, displays all the beauty and all the marvels of the tropics. The screw-pine (of the family of Pandaneæ), that peculiar tree which imparts to the forests of Asia a character so different from those of America, is seen here in exceptional size and majesty. Nowhere have we met with this marvellous tree growing in such luxuriance as on Pulo Milù, where it appears in such quantities as to resemble a forest, and leaves an impression of such lonely wildness as makes one almost imagine it a remnant of some earlier period of our earth. Wondering at the capricious vagaries of nature, the traveller contemplates these extraordinary trees, which have leaves arranged in spiral order like the dragon trees, trunks like those of palms, boughs like those trees presenting the ordinary characteristics of foliage, fruit-cones like the coniferœ, and yet have nothing in common with all these plants, so that they form a family by themselves. On Pulo Milù we saw some of these trees with slim smooth stems 40 or 50 feet in height, which are nourished by and supported upon a pile of roots of 10 to 12 feet high, resembling a neatly-finished conical piece of wicker-work, composed of spindle-shaped staves. Many of these roots do not reach the soil, and in this undeveloped state these atmospheric roots assume the most peculiar shapes. Higher up the same formation is repeated among the branches, from which depend beautiful massy fruit-cones, a foot and a half in length, by one in thickness, which, when ripe, are of a splendid orange hue.

The screw-pine is not cultivated in the Nicobar Islands; it grows wild in the utmost luxuriance, and, after the cocoa-nut, is for the natives the most important plant that furnishes them with subsistence. The immense fruit-cones borne by this tree consist of several single wedge-shaped fruits, which when raw are uneatable, but boiled in water, and subjected to pressure, give out a sort of mealy mass, the "Melori" of the Portuguese, and called by the natives "Laróhm," which is also occasionally used with the fleshy interior of the ripe fruit, and forms the daily bread of the islanders. The flavour of the mass thus prepared strongly resembles that of apple-marmalade, and is by no means unpalatable to Europeans. The woody, brush-like fibres of the fruit which remain behind, after the mealy contents have been squeezed out, are made use of by the natives as natural brooms and brushes, while the dried leaves of the Pandanus serve instead of paper to surround their cigarettes.

At Pulo Milù, as is yet more markedly the case among the southernmost islands, the cocoa-palm does not grow so luxuriantly as on Kar-Nicobar, and to this circumstance may be chiefly ascribed the fact that the natives are not so liberal as at the last-named island. The Swedish naturalist, Dr. Rink, who has so largely and valuably added to our stock of information respecting the Nicobar group, resided here for a considerable time with some forty Chinese labourers, and, with a view to ultimate colonization, had caused to be cut through the forest several paths, by means of which this island has been rendered much more permeable than any other in the Archipelago. The selection was an extremely happy one, and had the projected colonization of the island been carried into effect, very different results would have been obtained than those of poor Dr. Rosen in Nangkauri Harbour. Next to Kar-Nicobar, it has been clearly decided that Pulo Milù is the most suitable spot for a first settlement, in the event of any European power or any capitalist undertaking to solve the problem of colonizing this Archipelago.

In the cove at which we landed five huts stand upon the beach, much similar to those at Nangkauri, and like them having before them a number of lofty singularly ornamented poles emerging from the water, called by the natives Handschúop, and intended to keep Davy Jones at a respectful distance from the village,—not unlike the scarecrow with which we at home seek to frighten from the ripening corn the rapacious troop of feathered epicures. These banners for scaring away the Eewees are erected within the sea limit by the Manluéna, or exorcist, who in these islands, like the medicine-man of the Red Indian of America, or the Ach-Itz of the Indian races among the highlands of Guatemala, exercises the utmost influence over all the affairs of life. Here, as elsewhere, most of the natives had disappeared on our approach. We found but five men, who were all at least partially clad; some wore shirts, trowsers, and caps; another had enveloped his person in an immense, and by no means over-clean, piece of linen. One of this number, who acted as our guide through the island, and called himself "John Bull," was not a regular resident in Pulo Milù, but in Lesser-Nicobar, and had only come over to the island for the purpose of constructing canoes of trunks of trees hollowed out. He spoke English with tolerable fluency, and displayed quite child-like satisfaction, as often as any English word, no matter what, was recalled to his recollection, which had slipped his memory from want of practice. John Bull soon became very insinuating, and expressed a wish to accompany us to Great Nicobar, where, as he assured us, at Hinkvala, one of the villages on the southern shore, he had several relatives, among others one named "London," who could be of the utmost service to us. For his kind offices we promised him a present, upon which he asked with the most naïve simplicity: "You not talk lie?" from which we may conjecture that not every promise made to him by a stranger was duly fulfilled. The huts of the natives were constructed of beams, exactly like those in the central island; and the internal arrangements were precisely identical. Here also are figures sculptured in wood, Eewee-charms, which especially are found in the interiors of the houses in such numbers and in such quaint costumes, that one is almost tempted to imagine the inhabitants of these huts must be proprietors of some Marionette-theatre. We also found here various objects carved in soft wood, among others a large serpent, a tortoise, and several droll figures, as also a seven-holed flute of bamboo-reed, the model for which had evidently been supplied by some of the Malay sailors from Pulo Penang.

The same evening we weighed anchor, and shaped our course along the eastern shore of Lesser-Nicobar, which is thickly covered with swamp and forest. On the morning of 19th March, we were abreast of the island of Montial in St. George's Channel, and by evening had anchored on the northern side of Great Nicobar, S.E. of the island of Kondul, which also lies in the Channel. Already before sunrise the boats were lowered and everything got in readiness for a visit to the small but delightful island of Kondul, which, though on the N.W. side so lofty and rocky as to be almost inaccessible, presents on its E. side a tolerably secure landing-place, situated according to our observations in 7° 12′ 17″ N. and 93° 39′ 57″ E. Here we found a number of huts, but not one single native was visible. We now endeavoured, by following up a torrent bed, to climb to the highest point of the island, which has an elevation of 350 to 400 feet. In this we only succeeded after most severe exertion, occasionally having to avail ourselves at the steepest parts of the ascent of the gigantic roots of trees, or of the climbing plants that hung suspended like natural ropes, by means of which we swung ourselves among the huge blocks of rock, till we could gain a secure footing. Instead, however, of finding, as we had hoped, a small plateau at the summit, or at all events discovering some less difficult path by which to descend, we were sorely disconcerted, on arriving thoroughly exhausted on the top, at finding the rock descended so sheer and precipitous on the other side that it was impossible to make one step further. However, we found here a delicious refreshing breeze. With pleasure indescribable, our gaze wandered to the island of Great Nicobar and the islet of Cabra, lying immediately opposite us, their green luxuriant shores bathed on all sides by the azure ripple of the ocean. Although no rain had fallen for more than six months, the vegetation was on the whole wonderfully fresh and abundant, the forest lovely and majestic as on "the first day of Creation!"

We found ourselves compelled to retrace our steps by the same break-neck path by which we had ascended the peak. On the shore we encountered some of the natives, whose curiosity had got the better of their apprehensions, and who now slunk out of the forest, to discover what was our peculiar object in landing on the island. Among their number was a native doctor, and Eewee exorciser; he was however in no way distinguishable from the rest of his brethren, unless by the inordinate length of his hair, which flowed down far below his shoulders. One of the members of the Commission, desirous of getting at the treatment pursued by these sly knaves when they go to work with their poor credulous dupes of patients, promised this dusky disciple of Æsculapius a present, if he would cure him by his own method, and affected to have an intolerably severe pain in the left arm. The Manluéna displayed his treatment with a vengeance; he laid hold of the supposed sufferer by the arm, which he pinched and punched, till there was not a spot that had not received his attentions, while during the entire process he now screamed aloud, now whistled, now blew vigorously upon the bare skin, as though endeavouring to expel the Evil Spirit. According to the belief of these poor people, every bodily pain is nothing other than a demon magically introduced into the system through the evil influence of an Eewee. The Manluéna commenced to pinch the arm from above, performing this anything but agreeable manipulation with his hands lubricated with cocoa-nut oil, from above downwards, the object being to drive out the Eewee from the arm by the finger points! Although the doctor had not used his patient very tenderly, he nevertheless in the opinion of the natives had not appeared to put forth all his powers, and had made use of far fewer noises and contortions than had been usual with him when one of themselves was undergoing treatment. Moreover his original confidence seemed to fail him in his anxiety lest some mischance should befall him in case this attempt at a cure should miscarry, and accordingly he speedily made off, after he had been complimented with a few threepenny bits for his trouble, nor did he again make his appearance the whole day.

Some of the members of the Expedition had resolved to ramble quite round the island; the circumference of which is little if at all more than eight English miles. At early morning they had started with their guns and botanical boxes on their shoulders full of the most buoyant expectation of securing an ample store of curiosities, starting from the east coast and thence to the north side of the island; and towards sunset they made their appearance at the south side, foot-sore and nearly exhausted. In the ardour of the chase and of collecting "specimens," they had plunged so deep into the forest, thereby losing all trace of the direction by which they had entered, that as the sun was already beginning to descend, they had no alternative but to hew a path with their hatchets through the thickest of the forest, so as to reach the beach once more. At times hanging by creepers, at others swimming at various spots where the rocks dipped perpendicularly into the sea, they at length arrived at the spot where we were re-embarking, hungry, thirsty, and in a state of such extreme exhaustion that we at first were really apprehensive for their lives. Singularly enough these severe hardships were followed by no evil consequences to any one of the party, though the recollection of them will surely not fade out of their memory for the rest of their lives.

The 21st March, being a Sunday, was duly observed, and was kept as a much-needed day of rest, no boat going to shore. Towards noon a pretty smart shower of rain fell, the first for six months. Several of the natives came off in their canoes, and brought fowls, eggs, cocoa-nuts, and various other fruits, as also monkeys and parrots. Rupees, English shillings and sixpences, were evidently not unknown to them, as they greatly preferred these in exchange to mere toys and showy articles.

On the 22nd we made an excursion to a bay on the island of Great Nicobar or Sambelong. All that portion of the coast lying opposite our anchorage was quite uninhabited, evidently in consequence of the entire absence at this point of the cocoa-palm, whereas on the west coast there are several good-sized villages. Unfortunately, however, these lay at far too great a distance from the frigate to permit of an excursion being made thither. As our boat, after an hour's rowing, approached the little bay, we perceived at the mouth of a small creek the singular spectacle of a dead mangrove forest. Some great storm had apparently thrown up a sand-drive here, so as to cut off the supply of sea-water even at full tide. As the mangrove only flourishes in salt or brackish water, it had thus been deprived of its vital element, and the trees had accordingly perished in the fresh water. But the lofty stems still stood, withered and blighted, a ghastly garden of death amidst delicious green peaks covered with forest. As the sun rose, a white vapour lay like a winding-sheet over the dead swamp: one felt the uncomfortable sensation of being in a place where miasmata were poisoning the air, while the soil was generating death. The rigid skeletons of these trees recall to the recollection of the stranger, who stands marvelling at the all-powerful energies of Nature to create and destroy in these regions, how many corpses of his fellow-Europeans are mouldering beneath the damp soil of this island! Fortunately the river has once more broken through the bar, and given access to the sea-water, so that beneath the dead forest a fresh green vegetation was fast springing up.

The crew of a Malay prahu from Penang had selected this dull spot for a regular settlement, in order to collect ripe cocoa-nuts, and Trepang, the edible sea-slug (Holothuria) already mentioned, the latter for the Chinese market. These people occupied a large wooden shed, and were provisioned for a somewhat long stay. Except this shed there was not one single hut here, all around being nothing but dense forest and swamp; but some natives of the island of Kondul came over in their canoes to trade hens and eggs with us. The Malay vessels which visit these islands almost all come hither from Penang, about the beginning of the N.E. monsoon, and remain during the whole of the dry season, so as to take in a full cargo of the various natural produce of the island. They bring for barter fine Chinese tobacco, calico, knives, axes, hatchets, cutlasses, clothes, and black round hats. In former years they also imported the betel shrub into Great Nicobar for propagation; where, in fact, it has been planted, and has since then increased to such an extent that its importation is no longer remunerative. With the commencement of the S.W. monsoons and the rainy season, the Malay traders with their profitable cargoes make their way back to Penang, and the other places along the coast of the peninsula of Malacca. Thanks to the presence of these people, the members of the Expedition were enabled to compare the Nicobar idiom with that of the Malays, and could thus ascertain the exceeding discrepancies between these two languages.[15] These merchants ordinarily bring with them a few individuals who have a slight knowledge of the Nicobar language, as the Malay tongue is not understood anywhere in this archipelago.

One of the Malay seamen, named Tschingi, from Penang, whose caste was indicated by the long stripes of a bluish green colour painted upon his dark brown forehead, peculiar to the Hindu god Siva, told us that he recollected being employed as a boy in the service of Pastor Rosen on the island of Kamorta, with whom he remained till his return to Europe. He spoke with much admiration of that estimable and thoroughly deserving gentleman, and remarked that many Chinese and other settlers had accompanied him to Kamorta, all of whom speedily succumbed to the fever.

The native known as John Bull, who had followed us hither from Pulo Milù, made his appearance at the bay, accompanied by some of his kindred, and brought us some provisions. He seemed firmly to believe that in the interior of the island of Sambelong, in its southern part, there existed some wild inhabitants of a different race, Baju-oal-Tschùa (or junglemen, as he called them), who lived entirely in the woods, in small huts erected upon the banks of the streams, and were so timid that they took to flight so soon as any one endeavoured to approach them. He also told us that in the S. and S.W. sides of Sambelong there were eleven villages: viz. Hinkóata, Changanhéi, Hinháha, Haenganglóeh, Kanálla, Taéingha, Dayák, Kanchingtong, Dagoák, Hinláwua, and Kalémma.

In the course of the day, not only was a highly successful onslaught made on the denizens of the woodland, but even the fishes in bay were not exempted from our attentions;—a net, which was flung over the side and retained there barely half an hour, being hauled ashore with upwards of a hundred weight of small fish. Of this the entire ship's company partook, and sufficient was left over for the next day. Our quarry in the swamps and forest consisted of snipes, of a splendidly plumed Maina bird (Gracula Indica), eagles, and apes; unfortunately a number of the animals shot were lost by their retreating into the thicket, where they could not be recovered.

On the morning of the 23rd of March the frigate again made sail and steered along the west coast of Great Nicobar, while two boats' crews were despatched with the requisite instruments to examine this quite unexplored coast. This plan, however, proved only half successful. The tremendous surf, into which the long swell setting in from the S.W. is broken hereabouts, hurled the larger boat upon the beach with such violence that it was capsized, by which a great portion of her freight was utterly lost, and her crew could only escape to shore by swimming. The smaller, or jolly-boat, returned to the ship with two of her crew to fetch assistance for these woe-begone wights. One of the latter, who coolly spoke of the accident as a "piccola disgrazietta,"[16] with the same breath informed us that almost all the instruments, note-books, and implements of the chase which had been taken on board, were irretrievably gone. Another quarter-boat was despatched to bring off our shipwrecked companions, who meanwhile remained on the shore in anything but enviable plight, soaked to the skin, hungry and thirsty, and busily employed in fishing up some few of the articles that had been overturned into the water. At last both boats got safely back in company about midnight, but under such circumstances that it was out of the question to think of prosecuting the examination that had been commenced. We now lay a course for the southern bay of Great Nicobar, where, shortly after 9 P.M. of the 24th March, we cast anchor near the little stream called "Galatea" by the Danish expedition. The midshipman intrusted with the commission of selecting the most suitable spot to disembark, returned after several hours' absence, with the little consolatory intelligence, that along the entire reach of coast which he had examined, there was but one solitary spot at which it was possible to land without danger from a boat of European construction. In the course of the day we received numbers of natives on board; among the rest, one man still young, with immense spectacles, which undoubtedly were worn much more for personal adornment than for use. They brought off for sale a few apes, parrots, hens, swine, cocoa-nuts, as also some rosin, tortoise-shell, amber, and a few large eggs of a species of wood-pigeon, called by the natives Mekéni, of which unfortunately we did not succeed in seeing a single specimen, despite our utmost exertions.

The following morning, 26th March, amid occasional premonitory symptoms of the approach of the rainy season, the naturalists and some officers endeavoured to effect a landing at a place where alone it seemed possible for the broad, clumsy boats of our western waters. In this we succeeded. Again we were able, although drenched to the skin, to set foot on Nicobar soil. It was for the last time we did so. Not a single vestige could be discerned along the beach of any human habitations:—all was thick tropical forest, fringed with enormous Barringtoniœ Giganteœ, which in all their primeval weirdness flung their branches over the water, interlaced in wild confusion. After half an hour's wandering along the hot beach, we came unexpectedly, at a point somewhat south of our point of disembarkation, upon a couple of wretched disconsolate-looking huts. Not a human being was visible,—only a pair of hens and a pig, which were parading about untended; the bamboo poles, which usually figure in front of the native huts, had been carried away. However, in their absence it did not cost us much trouble to penetrate into the interior. A few weapons of war or the chase, a number of hollowed-out perfumed cocoa-nut shells suspended above the fire-place, a pair of elegantly plaited baskets, a boat's sail made of pandanus leaves, some straw mats, and a couple of marvellously finished figures, formed the very miscellaneous inventory of this Nicobar household. The figures (cut in wood) and a very neatly-executed basket attracted to themselves our special attention as interesting specimens of the industry and taste of the natives of Nicobar. We could not resist possessing ourselves of these, at the same time leaving in recompense a quantity of shining six-penny pieces, fully twenty times the utmost possible value of what had been taken away, depositing them in one of the baskets which was suspended in a conspicuous position in the middle of the hut.

Adjoining this hamlet was a forest of cocoa-palms. We penetrated into it, and suddenly found ourselves, to our great astonishment, on the track of a well-worn footpath, which was probably, with the exception of the paths in Great Nicobar and Pulo Milù, in better condition than any other we had hitherto encountered in the Nicobar Islands. What more natural than to suppose that a path so well worn must necessarily lead to an important settlement? It passed first through an extensive and splendid palm-plantation, and afterwards through a very beautiful clump of leafy trees, fringing a little brook, whose channel, it being then the end of the dry season, was quite dried up. Frequently we were obliged to clamber over steep blocks of rock, with footsteps hewn in them by the hand of man, for facilitating the passage, and at last, after a scramble of several hours, highly interesting, but exceedingly fatiguing, we reached a cleared spot on the sea-beach, but without being able to discern the remotest trace of any human habitations. On the contrary, it seemed to admit of no doubt that this path, as also some spots that had been cleared, were nothing but the preparations for an intended settlement, which can only be successfully carried out here where the cocoa-palm and screw-pine have first struck root. Some of the sailors, who accompanied us as porters and escort, went forward as far as the extreme point of the bay, but there also they found no trace of any human abode. After a brief rest we returned by the same track, to the spot at which we had disembarked, where we were joined by some of the officers, who, more fortunate than ourselves, had encountered some of the natives, and had even seen them in their dwellings. They spoke of the interiors of the huts they visited as being quite as wretched as those on the other islands, only the inhabitants did not seem so shy or timorous. Far from this, they had regaled our lucky companions with palm-wine, and had accompanied them till they fell in with us. With this visit ended the thirty-second day of our stay in the Nicobar Archipelago, only one half of that period having been spent on land, the rest having been occupied in beating about against unfavourable winds.

Before, however, we take our departure from this most interesting group of islands, en route for the Sunda Islands and China, we shall be excused for briefly recapitulating the main results of our observations and investigations, while referring the reader for a more detailed specification of our labours to the various special divisions yet to appear.

The Nicobar Islands, situated right in the most important highway of commerce, which is destined to acquire yet greater importance, so soon as the projected opening of the Suez Canal has been carried out, and extending in their general direction from S.S.E. to N.N.W., seem like an extension of the main central mountain-chain of Sumatra, which is prolonged yet further to the northward through the Andaman group, and in its crescent-shaped arrangement, with the convexity towards the westward, corresponds with Cape Negrais in the peninsula of Malacca. If from this Archipelago, as a centre, a circle be described of about 1200 nautical miles of radius, it will include the most important commercial cities of India, as well as Ceylon, the majority of the Sunda Islands, and Cochin China. The winds usually prevalent here greatly facilitate the passage of vessels from the adjoining islands and coasts of terra firma, and proportionately enhance the importance of this Archipelago.

With but few exceptions, the shores of the whole group of islands consist of coral sand, or are fringed with coral banks, which latter extend seaward to a depth of thirty fathoms. In like manner almost all the bays seem to be edged with coral reefs, if indeed they are not actually studded with them. The promontories frequently present cliffs both above and below the level of the ocean, extending a couple of miles into the sea, which, what with the occasional rapid currents and light breezes, are not always very easily weathered. The prevailing winds are the two monsoons, the N.E. in the months of November, December, January, February, and March, the S.W. in May, June, July, August, and September. During the months of April and October, there are variable winds and calms, extending more or less into the adjoining months. The currents vary in direction with the passages between the islands, and depend upon the ebb and flow of the tide, varying in force and direction with the tidal phenomena. Ordinarily these make themselves felt during the making of the tide from S.W. to N.E., and in a contrary direction during the ebb.

Due south of Kar-Nicobar, we found while lying at anchor a current running 3 ¹⁄₂ miles an hour, two days after the full moon; north of Little Nicobar, near the small island of Treis, where the current compelled us to anchor, its velocity, as we experienced two days after new moon, is as high as 4 ¹⁄₂ miles an hour. These observations refer to a period when the velocity of the current was at its maximum. In light winds, and when near the coast, one must always let go the anchor, or at least lay out a kedge, the latter however being barely sufficient at several spots immediately after the full or the new moon. According to observations made during five days about the period of full moon, the course of tide at Kar-Nicobar may be assumed at 9h. 40m., and the difference in height between ebb and flood at five feet.

In these waters, and in a still more marked degree in the latitude of Sumatra, occurs a belt within which the wave-currents form what is known to English navigators as "The Ripples." The sea here is ranged zone-fashion, so to speak, as though in fact in a state of ebullition, and makes a considerable noise, yet without there being anything to indicate an increased strength of current; since, on the contrary, we found when reaching these tracts, that the velocity of current was if anything rather diminished. We conceive this phenomenon may be attributed to the agitation caused by partial tidal currents, crossing each others' course, and occasionally even running counter to each other, as also to certain special conditions of ocean temperature at varying depths. The changes of the tides at points of the coast, proportionally speaking so near each other, are so widely different in point of time, and the height reached by the waves is so little uniform, that any such phenomenon as the above must naturally make itself perceptible at the surface in the open sea.

While the change of tide at Kar-Nicobar takes place every 9h. 40m., that of Cape Diamond in Sumatra is laid down in the English chart at 12h., and on the sand-banks in the Straits of Malacca at only 5h. 30m. The difference in elevation assigned exhibits a similar discrepancy in the estimates; that for Kar-Nicobar being stated at five feet, that for Cape Diamond at 10 feet, and on the sand-banks already mentioned at 15 feet. The hurricanes of the Bay of Bengal never visit the Nicobars; they seem to originate part in or about the Andaman Islands, part from the west coast of Sumatra, proceeding in the former case towards the northern portions of the gulf, and in the latter towards the Coromandel coast and Ceylon.

During the S.W. monsoon, in which occurs the rainy season, frequent thunder-storms and even gales of wind occur, especially in the vicinity of Great Nicobar. The dry N.E. monsoon again brings fine weather, but sometimes blows with considerable strength.

Kar-Nicobar has no regular harbour, but presents on its north side a spacious land-locked bay nearly rectangular, the holding ground of which is a coral sand of from 10 to 16 fathoms, and is thoroughly sheltered to the S.W. and N.E. During the N.E. monsoon it is advisable to lie somewhat closer in with the northern promontory of the island. At this season it is difficult to find any spot at which small boats can disembark. However, near the northern point it is possible to reach the shore in a small cove, the western boundary of which presents an open space of coral sand, where it is possible to lie to in deep water with even a good-sized boat. The village of Sáoui, which gives its name to the roadstead, is not readily accessible during the N.E. monsoon in consequence of the surf, but the very next indentation of the coast facing eastwards, which is protected seaward by a coral reef, offers a well-sheltered point of disembarkation, where the boats can be beached on the smooth coral sand, and thereafter drawn up high and dry.

During the N.E. monsoon it is also practicable to avail oneself of the bay on the S. side of Kar-Nicobar, or to anchor anywhere along the W. side of the island, but such anchorages possess no other protection than is afforded by long points of land projecting far into the ocean, and usually protracted by coral reefs.

Both in the bay of Sáoui, and on the south side of Kar-Nicobar, are found small brooks, which run with water even during the dry season. It is difficult however to water hereabouts, because these rivulets are blocked up with sand-bars, not to speak of the obstacles interposed to the landing of boats, by the tremendous surf and the low swampy shore at most periods of the year. In cases of extreme necessity, however, the little rivulet called the Areca might with some difficulty be made available.