KONDUL AND GREAT NICOBAR
The Anchorage--The Island--Villages--We leave Kondul--Great
Nicobar--Anchorage--Collecting--Up the Creek--A Bat Camp--
Young Bats--Traces of the Shom Pe[.n]--Bird Life--Fish--Ganges
Harbour--Land Subsidence--Tupais--We Explore the Harbour--A Jungle
Pig--"Jubilee" River--Chinese Navigation--Rainy Weather--Kondul
Boys--Coconuts--Chinese Rowing.
On the same day, we anchored as night fell, close to the island of
Kondul, having sailed down the west side of Little Nicobar--a coast of
sand-beaches and steep jungle-covered hills--and crossed the St George's
Channel, which divides the latter island from Great Nicobar.
Kondul is 2 miles in length, and half a mile wide, and, while running
N.N.E. and S.S.W., lies too far from the larger island to form a
harbour, although sheltered water is nearly always to be found on its
lee-side.
We dropped anchor in 7 fathoms, opposite a little beach and some coconut
palms on the western shore, and next morning rowed to the village on the
other side, meeting on the way a strong tide-rip, off the south-east
point, that for long kept us from making any progress.
The island is about 400 feet high, and its grey cliffs of slate and
sandstone rise steep and bare until they meet the dense jungle with
which the upper part is covered. Only on the east is there any flat
land, and there, on a stretch of coral soil, are situated the houses and
gardens of the natives, who now number some 38 individuals.
We landed behind a projection of the reef which afforded shelter from
the swell, and were met by the headman "Dang," who brought with him the
shipping register.
Some of the buildings were round, others rectangular in shape, and
supported by leaning-posts in addition to the piles; and here and there
were erected a few slightly carved and painted stumps, draped with
bunches of palm leaves.
The headman's house contained small figures of a man, woman, and child,
and some painted nuts, also a large mirror in a gilt frame--a useless
object probably obtained from the Chinese in return for some thousands
of coconuts. We learned that there were many Shom Pe[.n] on the
neighbouring coast, but that they were very nomadic, and badly disposed
towards strangers.
Our talk over, we left the house and rambled about, behind the village,
in a plantation of coco palms, bananas, and limes growing in rich
alluvial soil; and then, proceeding along the shore, crossed a little
stream, and making a detour round a mass of broken rocks, reached a
further village of three houses. Here the people were rather nervous at
first, especially when asked to stand for their photographs, and needed
much reassuring before we got on satisfactory terms; but _Jangan takot,
kita orang baik_ (Don't be afraid, we are good men), and similar
expressions, before long brought about more friendly relations.
After purchasing a supply of coconuts, limes, and as many chickens as
could be obtained, we returned to the schooner and sailed for the north
coast of Great Nicobar, known to the natives as "Sambelong," or
"Lo-oeng."
With the wind ahead, it was once more evening before we reached the
little bay where we had decided to stop. Anchoring, at first
temporarily, at the mouth, in 5 fathoms, the dinghy went off to sound,
and ascertain whether we might enter. The bottom was sand and coral, and
shoaled rapidly, until at the mouth we found a sandbar that almost dried
at low tide. Of a village which we expected to see, since it was marked
on the chart, there was no trace.
On the morning following our arrival, we set to work, on the right shore
of the bay, to cut a path up the steep hills which rise immediately from
the water. This caused so much noise, however, that nearly every animal
and bird was scared from the neighbourhood; and since we could only
proceed along the summit of the hills, where such specimens as were shot
were in danger of rolling down the steep sides and being lost, after
setting a number of traps, we returned to the boat and set out to
explore the bay.
The little basin at its head was surrounded by steep hills, but on the
right a stream flowed through a gap in the latter. Beyond this the land
sank, and opened out into a seemingly interminable mangrove swamp,
through which the river wound deviously.
From the mangroves overhanging the stream we obtained several nests of a
sunbird (_Arachnechthra_, sp. nov.). These in shape were something like
an old-fashioned net purse, covered with lichen, and were suspended from
the ends of branches. The entrance was in the side, and in each we found
two pale-brown eggs mottled with a darker pigment.
Half-an-hour's row brought us to the end of navigation, and at that
point we met with a vast colony of fruit-bats (_Pteropus nicobaricus_),
occupying the mangroves on either side of the river.
At a small computation, several thousand animals must have been hanging
head downwards from the branches, and the surrounding atmosphere was
impregnated with the musty odour of their bodies. When we disturbed
them, they gave vent to a continuous "skirling" noise, somewhat like the
song of cicadas, but less shrill in tone.
By nature they are very fearless, and the majority merely stared
inquisitively; a few spread their great wings and flapped heavily away
for a short distance, and others crawled actively along the branches
back downwards.
All the females carried, clinging to the breast, a young one of about
one-third full growth; these the mothers hugged to themselves with a
folded wing, but when unsupported, the young found no difficulty in
maintaining its position, by means of its excessively sharp claws and
its suction grip on the parent's teat. When the latter crawled about,
the baby was supported in the membrane of the wing, which bagged
slightly with the weight. I should imagine that it is not thoroughly
weaned until the birth of a fresh offspring.
The action of these bats when climbing a vertical branch, is similar to
a man's in shinning up a pole. The wings are first raised and a tight
grip taken with the claw on the thumb, then the feet are drawn up, and,
after they obtain a hold, the wings are once more lifted. When taking to
flight, they swing to and fro once or twice, and then let go in a
backward direction.
Several were obtained for specimens, and amongst them were two old
females, which were shot without damage to the accompanying young. These
latter I afterwards attempted to rear. At first they made no effort to
escape, but clung tightly to the mother's teat. When they arrived on
board, I put them into a box, fitted with a perch, from which they could
suspend themselves, but I found they had barely strength to sustain
their position by means of the hind feet only.
For food I gave them bananas mashed into a pulp, and a weak solution of
condensed milk. The former, after masticating and extracting the juice,
they would eject, but the milk was readily lapped up, or sucked from my
finger tip.
The two did not agree well, but remained during the day in opposite
corners of the box. At night they were very restless and noisy,
continually uttering shrill cries, and often fighting. When I had owned
them a few days, they escaped one night from their rough cage, and at
daybreak were found high in the rigging. Later they escaped again and
disappeared; reaching, I believe, the adjacent shore.
After exploring the neighbourhood, we found a good patch of flat jungle
on the east shore of the bay, and near the sandbar across the mouth
discovered a faint path leading inward. Following this across some damp
ground, we saw numerous tracks of men and dogs, which certainly pointed
to the presence of Shom Pe[.n], as the Nicobarese said they themselves
never went inland; but although we searched the locality thoroughly, we
failed to obtain more pronounced signs of occupation.
The forest abounded in life. Nearly every morning--generally the first
bird obtained, and only seen thus early--a beautiful pitta was shot.
Nicobar pigeons, sometimes in large flocks, every now and then rose with
loud flight from the ground, where they were busy searching for food;
for, unlike the big grey fruit-pigeons, with green-bronze back and wings
(_Carpophaga insularis_), these birds are ground-feeders. The little
brown _Rhinomyias_ was very plentiful, as was the tiny kingfisher, _Ceyx
tridactyla_, a most gorgeous bird, with coral-red feet and bill, and
plumage of brilliant yellow, orange, blue, and lilac.
In a deep rocky ravine (that in the wet season must be filled with
running water), arched over with tall jungle trees, and containing
beautiful tree ferns, whose waving heads rose above the edge, I shot our
first full-plumaged specimen of the Nicobar fly-catcher. Though not of
brilliant colouration--for the slightly-crested head is of steely
blue-black hue, and the remaining plumage of a silky-white (saving the
large feathers of the wings, which are delicately pencilled with black,
and the quills and edges of the tail feathers, the two central being
several inches long, which are marked with the same colour), with blue
bill and feet--this bird is to me perhaps the most beautiful of all the
Nicobar avifauna; and while there are many of far more gorgeous plumage,
none can approach it in delicacy, and the quiet beauty of its colouring.
Tracks of pig were very numerous in the low ground, and we often met
with herds of monkeys making their way through the jungle; no rats,
however, were trapped in this place, although crabs were scarcer than
usual.
Water we obtained on the east side of the basin, just within the
sandbar, but we had some difficulty in discovering it. The skipper,
while engaged in the search, reported having found a number of spiked
stakes planted in the jungle, similar to the _ranjows_ of the Dyaks.
An old man, named Barawang, arrived one day in a canoe. He spoke
English fairly, and said he was headman for the west coast, producing a
Port Register in support of his statement. He formerly lived at Pulo
Pet, but fled thence with his family to Kondul to escape a raiding party
of Shom Pe[.n].
The waters of the bay swarmed with shoals of little fish, which were
much preyed upon by the _ikan parang_,[76] a long, thin, sabre-shaped
fish with a formidable set of teeth; it is often seen darting along
above the surface of the water, which it just flicks with its tail. Of
the small fry we caught immense quantities with a casting-net, and
obtained larger varieties with the seine, by fixing it on stakes across
the mouth of the creek at high water; by the time the tide had fallen,
several fish had invariably become entangled in the meshes.
On the 10th we made sail, and proceeded a little further along the coast
to Ganges Harbour, anchoring just within its eastern point. If the chart
is correct, changes have taken place on the coast since the last survey.
We lay opposite a small stretch of flat land, and where the plan gives
the coast-line nearly straight, a little bay now exists, where stand
stumps of dead trees, about which the low tides expose a broad expanse
of black mud.
After wading through the mud to reach the shore, we found that much of
the low-lying ground was merely swamp. Part however, was covered with
tall, open jungle, in which were numbers of pigeon and parrots. There
were no monkeys, but tupais (_Tupaia nicobarica_) were plentiful. These
appear to be entirely arboreal in habits, and are quite as active as
squirrels in running along branches, or climbing about amongst smaller
twigs in search of insects. Their cry is a sort of trilling squeak,
which is easily confounded with the call of a bird.
In crossing to the further side we found plentiful traces of Shom
Pe[.n]--a faint path, a ruined hut, heaps of shells, and split
seed-cases of the _Barringtonia speciosa_. The edge of the land was
rapidly being eroded, and many tall casuarina trees, with roots
undermined by the water, lying prostrate in the sea. At either end,
this disappearing beach was hemmed in by rising ground and rocks, which
at its eastern termination contained a little stream and basin of good
water.
On the 12th we rowed about the shores of the harbour, landing every now
and then to search for the aborigines. The only signs of man's presence
discovered, however, were rows of stakes set up across the creeks in the
mangroves. One of these rows we utilised to hang our own net on, and
obtained there such an abundant catch of small fish that we returned the
greater part to the sea.
The shore-line is much more indented than the outline given on the
chart, and in the shallow water and mud of a little bay, rows of tree
trunks still stood, two or three hundred yards from the land. This
subsidence, however, is local in its occurrence, for everywhere else in
the Archipelago signs of elevation are markedly present, and it is to be
attributed to seismic agency--earthquakes having several times been
experienced in the group--and not to a general depression of the land.
The following day we went still farther afield, and crossed the harbour
to a beach where stood a grove of coconut trees and a small hut. The
trees were without fruit, and the house, though deserted, contained a
number of bundles of split rattan, such as a small section of the Shom
Pe[.n] trade in with the coast people. The plantation was surrounded by
hilly country, covered with tall, open jungle: birds were scarce, and a
hawk and a megapode were all we obtained in the way of feathered booty;
but, immediately on landing, Abbott caught sight of a couple of pigs,
and knocked over the boar with a bullet. Though very similar to the
Andamanese pig in size and appearance, it had patches of white on the
feet. From it a new species has been described, under the name of _Sus
nicobaricus_.
While rowing back to the _Terrapin_, we were overtaken by a blinding
squall of wind and rain, which half-filled the boat and made the men
(who sat with their feet on the thwarts) very uneasy, lest they should
be polluted by contact with the blood and water that swished about in
the bottom.
Next day we extended our search still farther, and ascended a little
river, to which the name of "Jubilee" has been given by the surveyors.
We rowed up several arms of this stream that wound to and fro in the
mangroves, but only found a small fishing weir constructed of rattans.
The muddy shores swarmed with water-birds--herons, whimbrel, redshanks,
and others--and we surprised a monstrous crocodile, little less than 20
feet long, who rushed into the stream long before our guns were ready.
Returning to the mouth, we landed and walked for a couple of miles along
the beach; but the shore was everywhere covered with dense tangled
scrub, behind which lay the swamps of the river.
On the last day of our stay, a junk arrived from Dring, where it had
taken in a cargo of coconuts. It was handled very clumsily, and nearly
ran on the reef before the anchor was down, eventually having to make
sail again and beat up to a more suitable place. Considering the
happy-go-lucky manner in which these junks are navigated, it must be
admitted that they have good fortune--they have a compass, indeed, but
all those we met were totally unprovided with charts.
Our mornings in this place were spent in searching for Shom Pe[.n]; the
afternoons were passed in adding to the collections. The traps produced
a couple of rats only; but we obtained several specimens of the
storkbilled kingfisher, which was common about the shores of the bay.
Several turtle were observed on the sea, but the harpoon never being at
hand when requisite, they always escaped unmolested.
Possibly because of the proximity of high land--for Mount Thuillier,
2100 feet, the highest point of the Nicobars, rises near the northern
end of the island--a good deal of rain fell every day, and somewhat
spoiled the enjoyment of wandering in the jungle. At night when we lay
in Ganges Harbour, it was nearly always calm, and many mosquitoes came
from shore to plague us.
Traps were set on the shore throughout our stay, and we thus obtained a
specimen of a new shrew (_Crocidura nicobarica_), the largest known
Oriental member of the sub-genus; while two rats--all that were
caught--were both undescribed varieties, and have been named _Mus
pulliventer_, and _Mus burrescens_.
Having filled up with water--obtained from a little stream trickling
down a cool rocky ravine at the inner corner of the bay--we made sail
early on the 16th, and returned to Kondul.
Two hours' run before the wind brought the schooner to our former
anchorage, where we were immediately joined by a junk from the north,
and shortly afterwards by our companion of Ganges Harbour. After
breakfast we reached the village, subsequent to a hard pull in the
whaleboat against wind and tide, and found the junks' crews busily
loading their boats with bundles of rattan; and by a chat with one of
the skippers, supplemented the scanty information of the _Sailing
Directory_ anent the west coast of Great Nicobar.
Very few people were about, and the headman, suffering from an attack of
inflammation of the eyes, had wisely confined himself to the shade of
his house. Four jolly little boys, however, bestirred themselves to get
us a supply of coconuts. One, after putting a loop of fibre round his
ankles, climbed a palm tree and hacked off all the fruit, and then we
all set to and carried the plunder down to the boat--a very awkward
task, unless one knows the correct method, for the coconut is both heavy
and bulky. With a _dao_ a notch is made in the husk and a strip of fibre
pulled out, with which the nuts are tied together two by two, and slung
across a pole, to be comfortably balanced on the shoulders. To the owner
of the tree we gave a bucket of rice, and to our juvenile assistants a
length of bright cotton, which one, a bald-headed youngster, immediately
annexed and wrapped round his shaven pate.
Towards evening they came to the schooner with an old man, bringing some
more nuts and a few fowls; they joined the crew at the evening meal, but
were very nervous, and one boy, whom the men wickedly pressed to stay,
eventually took refuge in his canoe.
That night quite a small fleet--the two junks and ourselves--lay in the
quiet anchorage. The cook and boy, smartly attired in black oiled
calico, went off in the dinghy to visit their compatriots. The style of
their garments must be held to excuse the absence of that quality in
their rowing, for each man's stroke was a thing to itself, as he
painstakingly illustrated the famous maxim of Mr Charles Bouncer, "Dig
your oar in deep, and pull it out with a jerk!" Perseverance and a
devious course brought them to their goal; but we retired to sleep with
dubious opinions as to their safe return.