KAR NICOBAR
To the Nicobars--A Tide-Race--A Change of Scene--Sawi Bay--
Geological Formation--V. Solomon--M[=u]s Village--Living-Houses--
Kitchens--Fruit-Trees--The Natives--Headman Offandi--
"Town-Halls"--Death-House--Maternity Houses--Hospitals--Floods--
"Babies' Houses"--Birds--Oil Press--Canoes--Offandi--"Friend
of England"--"Frank Thompson"--"Little John"--Thirst for
Information--Natives' Nick-names--Mission School Boys' Work--
A Truant--The Advantage of Canoes--A Spill--Our Method of
Landing--Collecting Native Birds--A new Bat--Coconuts--
V. Solomon--The Nicobarese and Christianity--Water--Area of
Kar Nicobar--Geology--Flora--Supplies.
"_21st January 1901._--The American yacht _Terrapin_ anchored at Sawi
Bay about 7 P.M. I sent men to inquire about the vessel, and the
gentlemen on board informed me that they had come _via_ Port Blair, and
would land early next morning.
"_22nd January 1901._--Early this morning Dr Abbott and Mr Kloss landed
and came to 'Temple Villa,' and gave me to understand the object of
their visit. They remained here till the 27th inst., and I gave them
every possible help. They left the island well pleased with their visit.
Many Nicobarese came from other villages with articles in the hope of
purchasing rum, but they were sadly disappointed: as I had begged the
gentlemen not to encourage the people with spirits, and they complied
with my request."--_From the diary of Catechist V. Solomon._
The wind was fair, but light, as, on 20th January 1901, we left Bumila
Creek for the Nicobars, and we sailed slowly along the western coast of
Little Andaman with the shore in full view. A sandy beach ran all along,
with here and there a crop of rock breaking out, and behind it,
stretching right across the island, spread dense unbroken jungle.
At distant intervals along the shore stood several of the peculiar
conical huts, and as we proceeded southward the forest gradually assumed
the grey and twisted look due to the force of the south-west winds.
Now, however, all was calm and still, and the _Terrapin_ sailed on such
a steady upright keel, that photographs taken the day before were
developed without spilling any of the solution used from the shallow
dishes. Heavy rain, with which we filled the tanks, fell during the
night, and at noon next day we sighted the low island of Kar Nicobar,
lying some 22 miles away.
As we neared the north-west part, after an 80 miles' sail, a large
village of beehive huts on posts came into view, and the immense number
of coconut palms along the eastern shore was very striking.
West of the point, we sailed into a strong tide-race, the current
running against the wind at a rate of 4 to 5 knots, and knocking up a
heavy, broken sea, in which the schooner yawed and rolled about, taking
water on board from every direction. Although the wind was dead aft, it
was long before we made any way. With the fore-topsail down, we remained
stationary; with it up, we gradually moved ahead. After a time, however,
the tide slackened, and we sailed slowly into Sawi Bay, where we found a
Moulmein brig, the _Princess of Wales_, loaded to her bulwark rail with
coconuts, and passing close by we anchored inshore of her, in 7 fathoms,
just as night fell.[14]
An hour or two later, a large outrigger canoe brought alongside a party
of men--some of whom spoke English fairly--to ascertain what we were;
and by the rays of a lantern, we obtained our first glimpse of the
Nicobarese, who appeared, with yellow-brown skin, straightish hair, and
medium stature, to be somewhat akin to Malays.
Here was a change indeed, both in place and people. From islands densely
jungle-covered to open stretches of grass-land and groves of coco palms:
from a little, black-skinned, frizzly-haired race, in an exceedingly low
plane of existence, to a brown-complexioned, lank-haired people, of fair
height, who are almost semi-civilised, live in good dwellings, cultivate
food products, and possess domesticated animals.
The houses alone were typical of the change of race: those of the Negro
peoples--the stock to which the Andamanese belong--are built directly on
the ground, while here, among a group of (practically) the Malayan race,
the dwellings were universally raised on piles.[15]
We landed next morning by wading through the surf, for the sea, though
smooth off-shore, was breaking on the beach.
The shores of the bay rose precipitously from a beach of sand to an
average height of 30 feet, and showed plainly the island formation of
grey clay, sandstone, and overlying beds of upheaved coral. Here and
there, buttresses of sandstone stood out boldly from the softer cliff,
which had crumbled away between them. Above, the land ran inward in a
level, unbroken stretch.
We were met almost immediately by Mr V. Solomon, a Christian Madrassi,
who fills the positions of meteorological observer, port officer,
schoolmaster, and catechist, and acts unofficially as magistrate and
amateur doctor. When we had satisfied him that we were not the
proverbial filibustering American schooner--or still more heinous,
laden with a cargo of spirits--he offered every assistance in his power,
and put the schoolhouse at our disposal, should we care to live ashore.
A flight of broad stairs, built against the cliff, led to its top, and
then, after traversing two or three hundred yards of broad road, the
agent's bungalow--"Temple Villa"--and the schoolhouse, both standing on
an open piece of land purchased from the natives, were reached.
In the clearing were sheds for the meteorological instruments, a very
deep well, the only one in Kar Nicobar, and enclosures for several
Indian cows that were kept by the agent. The Nicobarese do not use milk,
and a herd of cattle given to them when the settlement at Nankauri was
abolished, are now roaming over Trinkat in a semi-wild state, very
occasionally losing one or two of their numbers by the spears of the
natives, to whom, at times, they afford a welcome supply of food. The
common pigeon was introduced into Kar Nicobar in 1898, and numbers of
them were to be seen in the vicinity of the bungalow.
The village lay just beyond, on the eastern shore, for this part of the
island is merely a narrow arm projecting from the main portion in a
northern direction.
M[=u]s has a population of 530, and covers about half a square mile of
ground, the various groups of houses being scattered irregularly about
in picturesque disorder amongst thickets of fruit-trees and fenced-in
gardens.
All the buildings stand on thick piles,[16] about 7 feet high, but vary
in architectural type. The living-houses (_pati_), roughly about 20 feet
in diameter, and 15-20 feet in height from floor to apex, are in shape
something between an inverted basin and a pie-dish, covered with a heavy
thatch of lallang grass. Without windows or visible entrance, the
interior is reached by a neatly-made ladder of bamboo, or notched pole,
through a trapdoor in the floor, which works on hinges and has an
alarum attached, so that any nocturnal intruder will make his presence
known.
The top of each pile is fitted with a large, circular, wooden disc, to
prevent the entry of rats and reptiles,[17] and beneath the house, in
the shade, there is generally a swing, and also a platform of springy
cane that serves the native for a lounge. Baskets, bag-shaped and
wide-meshed, hang from the piles, and in these the hens are put when it
is laying-time.
Inside, the walls are generally neatly lined with thin battens of areca
palm attached horizontally; up in the roof, a kind of attic is formed,
by means of a light shelving of areca or other palm wood, having a
square aperture left in the centre for entrance. On the floor, which is
also grated, are the wooden clothes-chests that contain the family
possessions, betel-boxes, the mats of areca palm leaf, and the wooden
head-rests which are used when sleeping; and from the walls hang
baskets, spears, crossbows, suspensory contrivances made from small
branches with part of the twigs left on, and also some tobacco,
coconuts, and a piece of pork--the offering to the spirits.
The other type of building (_kamun telika_) is used as a kitchen; it has
a ridged but curved roof, an oblong floor, rounded at the back and in
front, and a platform, and a semicircular projection of the roof to
shade the doorway.
At the further end the fireplace is situated. A flat block of wood is
hollowed out and covered with sand or clay, and huge clay pots--often
with a capacity of many gallons--stand above it, on pieces of stone,
raising them clear of the coconut husks which are the principal fuel.
Around lie pandanus fruit, the boards and shells with which it is
prepared for eating, and the thorn-armed leaf-stems of the rattan, which
the natives use for grating up coconut. Up in the roof, are stuck,
between the thatch and the rafters, hollowed-out wooden troughs, in
which the food of the pigs, dogs, and other animals is prepared; flat
wooden dishes, provision baskets, and fans for blowing up the fire, made
of the sheathing petiole of palm trees, while, across the beams, are
hung coconut shells--joined in pairs by a short rattan handle--which
contain the day's supply of water.
The thatch of the houses--generally of lallang grass, but sometimes of
palm leaf--is fastened to a framework, built with vertical rafters of
the mid-ribs of the coco palm, joined crossways by battens of areca
wood, of which material the grated floor is also made. Until recently,
the whole structure was held together by careful mortising and lashings
of cane, but now it is evident from the newer buildings that nails are
coming into use among the natives of this island for such work.
The houses stand in groups, on open sandy ground, and interspersed with
them are plantations (_ya_) of bananas, melons, and sweet
potatoes--protected from the numerous roving pigs by zigzag fences of
rails piled horizontally between double posts--and clumps of fruit-trees
of many varieties--coconut, orange, lime, shaddock, soursop, jack
champada, tamarind and papaya.
Sturdy brown-skinned natives, clad in the scantiest _kissats_[18] of red
cotton, and wearing picturesque chaplets of white palm leaf with long
projecting ends (_ta-choekla_), stared at us as we walked through the
village; children and women, with a piece of cotton cloth hitched round
the waist, disappeared in the houses as we approached. The teeth of all
were stained by constant betel-chewing, and, since the blacker the
colour the more beautiful is the owner according to local standard, to
produce this effect the teeth are never cleaned.
The dwelling-place of the headman (_mah_), who is named Offandi, in no
way differed from the others. We made our presence known from below.
"Wait," came a voice, "wait till I've got my clothes on," and soon after
the chief appeared in a rusty suit of black broadcloth, and a damaged,
bowler hat. He was a short but exceedingly strong-looking man, with a
thick neck and bullet head, and wore a very slight moustache. We shook
hands all round, and commenced asking each other questions in English as
we strolled through the village. Then, after ascertaining that we should
be pleased to see him on board later, and provide spirituous
refreshment, Offandi left us.
He was said to be very well off, possessing large numbers of coco palms,
but the other staple of wealth (pigs) he has to buy.
We presently reached, near the shore, a group of buildings known as
_Elpanam_ (The Place).[19] Principal among these were two buildings, in
which feasts and meetings take place. While of the same shape as the
living-houses, they were much larger in every way. The roof and floor
are built on the ground, and then, by the combined efforts of the whole
village, are raised to the supports on which they rest. They were
constructed inside of laths of areca, closely bound together, and
fastened horizontally to a framework covered with grass thatch, a foot
or more in thickness.
The floors were gratings of split palm wood, but a great portion was
planked, and on this solid part a large fireplace was built of clay.
In the centre hung a rack, from which the joints of pork are suspended
at feast-times, and beneath were placed boards to catch falling fat and
grease.
Strings of pigs' jaws were hung across the upper part of the roof, and
showed the number of animals consumed at the last feast--a ceremony that
sometimes lasts a month.
The pigs, which are killed for these occasions by being speared through
the heart, are doubtless an introduced species, for they attain immense
proportions and are of many colours:--black and white, brown, brown and
white, etc. The young, however, are all striped when born.
Adjacent to these "Town Halls"[20] are the stores of the Burmese
traders, some buildings which are equivalent to the hospital of
civilisation, and several maternity houses, where women take up their
residence shortly before confinement.[21]
The starting-point in life, and also the place of departure, is for the
Nicobarese of this village one and the same, for next to the house
appointed for his birth is another--the "House of Pollution"--to which
he is carried to die; and yet a few paces further is the burial-field,
with its group of grave-posts, where his body will be bestowed for a
time. Not for long will it rest even there, for in a few years the
skeleton will be disinterred and cast into the jungle--the skull alone,
if he has been a man of some importance in life, being allowed to find
in the grave an abiding place.
The shores of Kar Nicobar are in places very low, and during bad weather
the waves have been known to roll up the beach and flood _Elpanam_ a
foot in depth, carrying away canoes, etc. To subdue the sea on these
occasions, _tamiluanas_ (medicine-men) and their followers, adorned with
garlands, walk in procession along the beach, with devil-destroying rods
and leaves, with which they strike the water, and then surround
_Elpanam_ with palm leaves, and perform other ceremonies.
On the outskirts of the village, we saw here and there small huts called
_Talik n'gi_--the place of the baby. To these, mothers come from
_Elpanam_ with the newborn child, and spend several months in solitude,
attended only by their husbands, before returning to the village--a very
sensible proceeding, and one worthy of imitation in more civilised
communities. It seems only common justice that any unpleasantness caused
by ourselves in our earliest moments should be confined to those most
responsible for our appearance. So the Kar Nicobarese appear to think,
and have accordingly taken measures to prevent new arrivals becoming a
nuisance to their future companions, for many of the houses in the
village contained perhaps twenty inmates; doubtless, also, it is well
for babies not to be subjected to too much companionship and
attention.[22]
Again in the village we made the acquaintance of the oldest inhabitant,
yclept "Friend of England," who, judging from the number of his _chits_,
is a man of some note and many acquaintances.
Clothed at first in an infinitesimal native garment, he retired for a
few moments, and then appeared in white jacket, knickerbockers, and top
hat, carefully brushed in the wrong direction. He, too, would pay us a
visit on board, provided that liquid sustenance were afforded; and
having satisfied himself on this point, he intimated that we might count
on his appearance that afternoon.
Our attention was attracted by a somewhat rude mechanical contrivance,
beneath a tree, which we were told was a press for extracting oil from
coconuts. Two large blocks of wood, one above the other, were placed
closely against the trunk. In the upper surface of the topmost log a
shallow depression had been made, and from this a channel ran to one
edge, which ended in a kind of lip. In the trunk itself a hole had been
scooped, to receive the end of a long beam of wood.
A quantity of coconut kernel having been placed in the basin, the beam
is inserted in the tree, and a native standing on the outer end, by
jumping up and down exerts so much pressure on the coconut that the oil
oozes out, and running down the channel, drips from the lip into an
earthenware pot placed beneath.
Here and there about the houses stood a kind of bench-seat, that was
merely the limb of a tree with several of the branches left projecting,
and trimmed in such a way that the whole piece would balance firmly.
We obtained a number of birds in the trees about the village; one in
particular (_Ixora_, sp.?), whose leafless branches bore a quantity
of large red flowers, was frequented by flocks of white-eyes
(_Zosterops_(?), sp. nov.), munias, and sunbirds, (_Arachnechthra_(?),
sp. nov.), and by the chestnut-rumped myna (_Sturnia erythropygia_), a
bird only known from this island, although we later collected on Kachal
a new species that closely resembles it.
[Illustration: Oil Press (Kar Nicobar).]
The canoes (_ap_) belonging to the village were drawn up on the shore of
Sawi Bay, for the other beach is fully exposed to the monsoon, and also
fronted by an awkward reef. These vessels--all dug-outs--constructed
from a single trunk (_Calophyllum spectabile_),[23] are very narrow in
proportion to their length, and of graceful shape. After the canoe is
hollowed, it is somewhat spread out by cross-pieces of wood, which are
lashed from gunwale to gunwale, at intervals of about a foot. To give
the requisite stability, an outrigger is attached:--To two projecting
spars or wings lashed to the canoe, a log of very light wood
(_Sterculia alata_), about three-quarters the length of the hull, and
sharp at either end, is fastened, and the correct level of this float is
maintained by each wing being bound to, and resting in, the angle made
by three intersecting pairs of hardwood pegs, which are driven into the
outrigger. The vessels are further provided with ornamental projecting
stem- and stern-pieces (_C. inophyllum_), carved in a variety of
designs, and sometimes painted red. No paint or wood-oil is used on the
canoes, but the outer surface of the hull is charred all over, with the
idea of protecting it from the effects of the water.
The paddles are about 4 feet long, very light and thin, made of a hard
red-brown wood (_Garcinia speciosa_), with lancet-shaped blades, and
handles without any form of cross-piece, but flattened at the top.
In the afternoon, Offandi came on board, and after drinking a glass of
rum, begged for a bottleful to take ashore. As this request was not
complied with, he cried threateningly in a menacing tone, "What, you
refuse me then?" but calmed down on learning, that, although we were not
at liberty to supply him with spirits "for consumption off the
premises," he could have what he wanted whenever he liked to come
aboard. A bottle of Eno fully restored his good humour, and drew forth
expressions of friendship: "You good man, I love you; you do me good
turn, I make return." This reciprocity is the basis of Kar Nicobarese
relations with strangers--value for value, and no gifts; although
Offandi once presented us with an edible bird's-nest without asking for
an equivalent.
One man, "Sweet William" of Lapati, carried this trait so far, that he
wanted a steamer to take him to England, in order that he might there
build a house for himself, and occupy a piece of land in lieu of the
plot at M[=u]s that has been purchased by the Indian Government.
The headman was, for a Nicobarese, a very travelled individual, for he
had spent a month in Calcutta, ten days in Penang, and various periods
at Port Blair; and as a result, had a really working knowledge of
several languages. English, Hindustani, and Kamortan, he speaks well,
and has some acquaintance with Malay and Burmese.[24]
Visits to the _Terrapin_ occurred frequently during our stay, but none
were of long duration, for a growing squeamishness on the part of our
guests generally cut them short.
Although accustomed to travel in canoes, they could not withstand the
motion of the schooner. Indeed, for the whole time we lay in Sawi Bay,
the _Terrapin_, on account of the swell that set into the bay, so rocked
and rolled at her anchor that life on board was scarcely comfortable.
The fiddle was always on the table, the preparation of our specimens
went on under difficulties, and at night sleep was almost impossible
unless we wedged ourselves on our mattresses by means of extra cushions
and pillows. The vessel frequently took water over her sides, until at
times it almost seemed that she would roll her masts out. We generally
had to exercise the greatest care in leaving or boarding the ship,
and yet with it all the sea was quite unbroken save for the line
of surf along the beach. The bigger trading-vessels--brigs and
barquentines--anchored more off shore, and, because of their greater
size, were scarcely affected by the motion.
Whenever the tide was low, the reef-bordered portions of the coast were
always frequented by various parties of natives, busily occupied in
searching in the pools and under the coral boulders for fish, crabs, and
molluscs; at night, when the sea was calm, bright fires blazed on the
water and the shore, and marked where fish-spearing was going on from
sheltered ledges of rock or slowly-moving canoes.
Of all the people, "Friend of England" was perhaps the most amusing. He
was infected with the garrulity of old age, and made the most of his
opportunities by unblushing mendicancy.
As he came alongside, sitting--a very dignified figure in top-hat and
white knickerbockers--upright and motionless in his canoe, which was
manned by juvenile paddlers, he always, as he neared the schooner, took
from his pocket an old silk cravat and arranged it round his neck.
After a few coconuts or oranges had been handed up, the old man would
come below and shake hands all round. "I want smoke cigar, I want drink
rum," was followed by a prompt refusal of anything smaller than a
tumbler. Then would come the invariable preamble: "You my friend, I your
friend; we give presents and make return,"--with reference to the
coconuts; followed by demands for medicine, turpentine, camphor,
quinine, scent, and Eno; and as all his wants could not be satisfied, he
professed he could not understand why on earth we had come without these
things. When we came again we were to bring all of them, and we should
then be great friends. He desired that we would convey the following to
every one at home--foreigners he did not like:--"You go tell all
men--Come here, come here, come here. I Friend of England, I good man.
You bring much medicine, you give me--we be great friends, I make
return. I plenty good man; I speak true, I no lie!"
He carried a large number of _chits_ from officers of ships that had
called here during many years past, and was very anxious that we should
add to the number.[25]
Poor old "Friend of England"! his lines are no longer cast in pleasant
places. His last wife, the widow of a friend, became blind, and he can
no longer obtain another on account of his old age; he has become
estranged from his son because of his too amorous conduct towards the
latter's wife, and has had to pay several fines on account of similar
behaviour towards other neighbours.
Our last glimpse of him as he made for the shore, after having been
assisted to his canoe, generally caught him in the act of undoing his
cherished necktie and restoring it, carefully folded, to his pocket.
One day--when we had so far broken through our rule as to give him a
bottle of rum and water to take ashore "for medicine after we had
gone"--going a couple of hours later into the village, we found "Friend
of England" tottering up a path, and tried to take his portrait. But the
old scamp, who all his life had lived in the sun, refused on this
occasion to come out of the shade, and was so afflicted with involuntary
staggers, that the result of several exposures was a very qualified
success, and lost much of the impressiveness of the original, through
his unwillingness to don his necktie in the customary Byronic style.
One of our guides about the island was "Frank Thompson," one of Mr
Solomon's "most promising pupils, and a sincere Christian"--a rather
stupid-looking youth, who had spent some years at the Port Blair School.
I fear that we regarded him with some contempt, for he seemed to have
developed into nothing better than a hanger-on at the Agency, and
although he spoke English fairly well, and could doubtless read and
write a little, in the jungle he proved to be quite useless. Birds he
could scarcely ever see; he did not know the way about, and after a few
miles, he was blowing and panting, and groaning inquiries as to how much
farther he was to go. Thompson however could beg as well as the rest,
nor was he out of his element when the rum and cigars were being passed
round.
A very different character was my _shikari_ "Little John," native name
unknown. This man was perhaps, on the whole, the best specimen
physically of a Nicobarese that we came across. A handsome, rather
scornful, face, with aquiline nose, was only spoiled by the occurrence
of the Mongolian fold in the inner corner of the eyelids. His curly
black hair was worn long, in a thick bushy mass, as far as his
shoulders, where it was cut off straight across. Though only 5 feet 6
inches in height, he was splendidly built: was 40 inches round the
chest, 13-1/2 inches round the biceps, and 15 inches round the calf. The
natives admitted that he was about the strongest man in the village of
M[=u]s.[26]
He was awfully keen on collecting; could creep noiselessly through the
jungle, and saw birds that I took long to distinguish, even after he had
pointed them out. He was also a good "pot-shot," and nothing delighted
him more than to carry the gun, and after having it loaded with
cartridge suitable to the occasion, to fire at and bring down the
specimen, when he would hand the weapon to me and dash away amongst the
undergrowth to retrieve his booty, bringing it back with the greatest
care.
He was an unwearying hunter, and would often creep about for ten minutes
at a time, under some tree, in order to point out for my approval, and
get a clear shot at, some bird whose presence he had discovered in the
dense foliage.
He used to accompany us on board the schooner, and after having
breakfasted with the crew, would sit in the cabin with a cigar, watching
us as we worked at the skins, and improving his little English by
constant inquiries: "How you call dis? What you call dat?"
The desire of the Nicobarese to learn words, and acquire the name of
anything they do not know, is great, and their powers of memory are
astonishing. The exercise of these linguistic abilities is most marked
in the headmen, or "captains" as they love to be called--a title
inherited from the times when English skippers used to trade amongst
these islands, and bestow by request their own names (and others less
complimentary, but more pointed) on the natives they particularly
favoured in their commercial transactions.
Nor were these our only acquaintances. "Sweet William" (who had a mouth
and teeth like a shark's), W. L. Distant, Tom Noddy, Lady Clara, Sam
Weller, and many others, came to see us. There was, too, Mr Corney
Grain, who, many people may not be aware, is chief of a village in Sawi
Bay, and who dresses in two yards of pink ribbon.
In this way we were never at a loss for company, for when the above were
engaged, there was always a reserve in the persons of Jack Robinson, Tom
Tuson, Kingfisher, Young Edwin, James Snooks, Lorenzo, Lady-killer, and
others.
Mr Solomon's efforts in education have received little support from the
community; for by handing over their children to his discipline, the
parents lose their assistance in the routine of daily work, no small
portion of which falls to the younger generation, since almost all
special work is done by small boys. These are very helpful in climbing
the coco palms for the nuts required for barter, and they are of much
assistance to the foreign traders also, who, to induce the boys to aid
them, supply them with food, and give them presents of tobacco and other
things. However, some fifteen or twenty boys, from 8 to 14 years of age,
have now been given up to the mission school,[27] to receive a little
daily instruction and drill, on condition that the onus of feeding and
clothing them shall not fall upon the parents.
Out of school hours these boys make themselves generally useful by
fetching and carrying, preparing food, etc., and acting as crew of the
agent's canoe.
That such a life is not universally pleasing to the youngsters
themselves, is witnessed by the fact that a short time ago one of them
ran away to the jungle, where he remained, and was able to support
himself, until caught and brought back after a three months'
disappearance.
He was a mischievous-looking boy, who found it hard to refrain from
grinning while his portrait was being taken, for I secured his likeness
as affording a marked example of the features of prognathism and
epicanthus as occurring among the Nicobarese.
We found the services of these boys most welcome on several occasions.
Frequently the surf in the bay was sufficient to promise at the least a
thorough wetting when leaving shore for the schooner in our own boat. It
was, as a rule, simple enough to land, but the reverse proceeding was a
less simple matter. In such a case, we used one of the native canoes and
a crew of mission lads.
After loading the light hull with our impedimenta, it was an easy
business to place it at the water's edge, and, at a suitable
opportunity, run it out into waist-deep water, jump on the almost
uncapsizable hull, and with quickly-grasped paddles--no troublesome
operation of shipping lengthy oars in row-locks--force the slender craft
beyond the breakers. Arrived at the schooner, a biscuit apiece seemed to
be considered ample reward by our young friends (biscuits, stale bread,
and old crusts are in great request among the Nicobarese), who, after
disposing of them, would return to their canoe and disappear into the
darkness with cheery farewell cries: "Good-_night_; good-night, sar;
_go-o-od_-night."
Early in our visit, we one morning met with a mishap when landing in our
stumpy dinghy through some more than usually heavy surf. The
surroundings were scarcely such as one would connect our late Laureate
with, but at the moment of catastrophe, some lines of his flashed into
my mind:
"'Courage,' he said, and pointed to the land,
'This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon,'"
and indeed it did. A big breaker rose under the stern, and flung the
boat, its contents, and ourselves, far up the beach. Fortunately our
guns and cartridges were made up into bundles with waterproof canvas, so
no harm was done beyond losing a rowlock.
From the incident we learned a lesson, and thereafter, had the
proverbial New Zealander been on the beach in the early mornings, he
might have seen a little boat approach the shore, with a blue-clad,
brown-skinned Malay and a couple of white men _in puris naturalibus_.
Outside the belt of surf, the latter would jump overboard, and, seizing
favourable opportunities, wade to and fro with sundry bundles. Presently
the dinghy would return, with a solitary occupant, to a schooner in the
bay, while the others, after assuming a simple toilet and a peculiar
sporting equipment, would disappear from his view, leaving the
Antipodean observer alone on the shore. Although a little farther from
the village, the best landing-place when the sea is rough is on the
stretch of sand next to that adjacent to M[=u]s, and just to westward
and inside the rocky point that separates the two strips of beach.
Sometimes we shot in the scrub and plantations surrounding the village,
and sometimes we went a few miles along the bay towards Sawi, now
walking on the beach, now along the brow of the cliffs. The view from
these last was very beautiful: on the one hand a forest of palms,
pandanus and casuarina trees, on the other a line of waving grass; and
below, the blue sea breaking in snowy rollers on a golden beach.
At times we met parties of natives proceeding from village to village in
picturesque groups--the men carrying nothing but a _dao_, their
warm-brown stalwart figures relieved only by the red _kissat_ and white
chaplet of pandanus with which their hair was bound; and the women
draped in scarlet cotton, and adorned with chains of rupees and numerous
silver bangles.
All would stare stolidly, and pass in silence; for in the Nicobars,
where one man is as good as the next, and no degrees of rank are known,
there are no words of greeting or graceful salutes such as one would
meet with amongst strange Malays or natives of India.
The forest at Sawi was open, and although of a heavy description, grew
on land that seemed of very recent formation. It contained some of the
finest specimens of urostigma trees we had ever seen, whose many aereal
roots, springing from a wide expanse of ground, met far overhead in
support of immense masses of foliage.
In this heavy jungle we obtained specimens of _Astur butleri_, a little
forest hawk with back and wings of a beautiful dark grey, allied species
to which are found in several of the other islands. Here, too, we met
with _Carpophaga insularis_, a variety of a widely-spread fruit-pigeon,
_C. aenea_, from which it differs only in having a plumage slightly less
bright. We made acquaintance also with _Palaeornis erythrogenys_, an
exceedingly pretty parrot, and the only bird of its kind occurring in
the Nicobars until _P. caniceps_ is reached in the southern islands; but
of the mound-building megapodes we had expected to find, there was no
trace, although it was said they occurred in the middle of the island.
We obtained in the jungle one specimen of a hitherto unknown fruit-bat
(_Pteropus faunulus_); but of rats, although they are probably numerous,
one only was trapped (_Mus burrulus_, sp. nov.); crabs in nearly every
instance making off with the baits.
As a rendezvous after our collecting excursions, we generally chose
"Temple Villa," where we could sit and chat with the agent on the
manners and customs of the natives among whom he lived, and drink the
water of young coconuts freshly plucked from the trees surrounding the
bungalow.
The coconut of the Nicobars, although small, is nowhere excelled for
sweetness and flavour, and on reaching the schooner, drenched with
perspiration after a morning's wandering in the forest, and perhaps a
long row under the hot midday sun, we daily made appreciative trial of
them the moment we stepped on board.
The natives are very expert in opening them with the _dao_. Holding the
nut in the palm of the left hand, they slash off a portion of the husk,
toss it round and remove another slice, until, with three or four cuts,
the tender shell at the upper end is exposed, and only requires a slight
tap to be broken through and allow the delicious water inside to reveal
itself with a spurt.
The life of the Nicobarese is full of curious observances and
ceremonies, of which, perhaps, no man knows more than Mr Solomon, who
has spent five years among the people, and is engaged in the preparation
of a vocabulary of their language.
In his capacity as catechist, he has not succeeded in converting any of
his adult neighbours to Christianity, although one or two are
occasionally present at his Sunday services. We met with one proselyte
to Mohammedanism among them, but he, having been adopted by a trader
when a boy, was taken to the Maldives and spent some years there. The
natives as a body are still as averse to foreign influence on this point
as they have been in the past, when missionary endeavour--Moravian and
Jesuit--time after time met with complete failure. In the second quarter
of the last century they expelled two priests of the latter sect from
the island, and Captain Gardner, in 1851, gives an account of the same
fate befalling a pair of Moravians.[28] "Having converted a few natives,
disputes arose between these and their heathen countrymen. They were of
such a serious nature that it was determined to hold a general council
of delegates from every village to consider a remedy for the evil. They
came to the conclusion, that, as they had always lived in love and amity
with each other before the arrival of the missionaries, with their
strange story of the first woman stealing the orange, etc., the obvious
remedy was to send them away. Accordingly, the missionaries were waited
on, and told respectfully that they must leave at the first opportunity:
that the natives were not to be joked with, and must be obeyed. The
mission house was then burnt down, and a fence erected round the spot,
inside which no native will step. It is unholy ground, they say, where
the devil first landed; for, until the missionaries brought him with
them, he had never been in the island, or knew where it was. I was told
that a day is now set apart in the year when all the inhabitants
assemble to drive the devil out of the island."
On the fourth morning of our visit our sympathy was due to Mr Solomon on
the occasion of his wife's death--an event that occurred with some
suddenness as the result of an apoplectic fit. One sequel to this was,
that on the following night the entire village was engaged in expelling
the spirit of the deceased from the neighbourhood with much ceremony and
noise.
Kar Nicobar has an area of about 50 square miles, with a surface that is
exceedingly level, as the highest point it attains is barely 200 feet
above the sea-level; only in the north does the coast rise in low
cliffs, and all round the shore is a fringe of coral-reef.
The geological formation consists of a foundation of serpentine, on
which rest thick clay beds and layers of sandstone, exposed in parts,
and in some places overlaid by upheaved coral banks, the whole having
acquired a covering of sandy alluvium and drift, which was deposited
before upheaval, with an additional layer of vegetable _debris_ since
accumulated.
With the exception of an indigenous coco palm zone, where coralline
alluvium has formed, the beach forest of Casuarinas, Barringtonias,
Ficus, Pandani, Hibiscus, Calophyllums, and other characteristic
species, and irregular strips of inland forests, containing canebrake
and bamboo, with Terminalias and Sterculias, the whole island appears to
be covered with stretches of coarse lallang grass, dotted with tall
screw-pines (_Pandanus mellori_), bearing the large globular fruit that
supplies the inhabitants with their staple food; or with the natives'
plantations of coconuts, betel, plantains, and yams. The nature of the
forests depends entirely on the character of the soil and on the
composition of the underlying rock.
Although ranking only fourth or fifth in point of size, Kar Nicobar
contains nearly three-fifths of the total population of the group; the
number of its inhabitants has remained stationary for many years, and
has lately been ascertained to stand at a trifle under 3500.
"The people of Kar Nicobar ought to be among the most contented in the
world. Everyone lives on terms of perfect equality with his neighbours.
Beyond occasional illnesses, they have no cares or troubles, and there
is absolutely no struggle for existence, coconuts and pandanus, their
staple foods, being in such profusion that a child old enough to climb a
tree could support himself without exertion."[29]
Our sojourn at Kar Nicobar lasted from the 21st to 27th of January, and
was spent in making a collection of the fauna (which was not entirely
without result in the way of new species), and in obtaining as much
information as possible about the natives during the opportunities open
to us. Besides this, we secured, through the agent, a fairly
representative series of such articles as are used by the islanders in
their daily occupations and pursuits.
The well from which we filled our tanks was situated near the agent's
house: no good water was to be obtained elsewhere in the bay. In this
well the water rose and fell with the tides, the explanation of which
is, not that the sea-water is filtered by the coral sand, but that fresh
and salt water do not combine; the former rests on the latter, which is
of course heavier, and the close and porous coral rock prevents the
mixture of the two.
Having given all the time we could spare to Kar Nicobar, and found it a
most interesting locality and one worthy of far more protracted
attention, it was with feelings of regret that on the 26th we, as
Dampier would say, "refreshed ourselves very well with hens, coconuts,
and oranges, and the next day sailed from thence."