his sledge. He not only travels from place to place, in a circuit of
twenty miles,—round the little solitary church which the Swedish
missionary has built for him,—but he makes an occasional journey to the
distant coast.
In his sledge, or even afoot, a hundred miles are to him as nothing: for
the frozen snow enables him to perform such a distance in an incredibly
short time. On his “skies,” or snow-skates he could do a hundred miles
in a couple of days; even though the paths led him over hills,
mountains, lakes, and rivers. All are now alike,—all concealed under the
common covering of a deep snow. The lakes and rivers are frozen and
bridged for him; and the mountain declivities are rendered smooth and
easily traversed,—either by the sledge or the “skies.” With the former
he would think little of a hundred miles in a single day; and if the
occasion were a “killing” one, and relays could be had upon the route,
twice that enormous distance he could easily accomplish.
The mode of sleigh-travelling by the Reindeer Laplander, as also his
snow-skimming, or skating, have been both often and elaborately
described. I have only space here to present the more salient points of
the picture.
This sleigh or sledge is termed by him “pulka;” but he has three
varieties of this article,—two for travelling, and the third for
carrying luggage. The two first kinds are nearly alike; and, in fact,
differ only in a little extra “furniture,” which one of them has upon
it,—that is, a covering over the top, to keep more comfortable the feet
and legs of the traveller. In other respects it is only the common pulk,
being similar to the latter in shape, size, _atelage_, and everything.
To get an idea of the Laplander’s sledge, you must fancy a little boat,
about six feet long, and sixteen inches in breadth of beam. This is the
width at the stern, where it is broadest; but from the stern it narrows
all the way forward, until, on reaching the stem, it has tapered almost
to a point. Its sides are exactly like those of a boat; and it rests
upon a “keel” of about four inches breadth, which keel is the one and
only “runner.” A strong board boxes up the stern end, in front of which
is the seat; and the board itself serves to support the back of the
rider. His legs and feet are stretched out longitudinally; filling up
the space between the quarter-deck and the “for’ard” part of the little
craft; and, thus fixed, the Laplander is ready for the road.
In the best class of “pulk”—that used by the Russ and Swedish traders
and travellers—the forward part is covered with a sort of half-deck of
skins or leather; but the Laplander does not often fancy this. It gives
him too much trouble to get out and in; as he is often compelled to do
to look after his train of deer. His pulk, therefore, is open from stem
to stern; and his deer-skin coverings keep his legs warm enough.
Only one deer is used; and the mode of harnessing is of primitive
simplicity. A band of skin acts as a collar round the neck of the
animal; and from the lowest point of this a piece falls downwards below
the animal’s breast,—striking in on the counter like the pendants of a
martingale. To this piece is attached the trace,—there is but
one,—which, passing between the forelegs, and afterwards the hind ones,
is looped into an iron ring upon the stem of the sledge. Upon this
trace, which is a strong strap of raw hide or leather, the whole
draught-power is exerted. A broad surcingle—usually of cloth, neatly
stitched and ornamented—passes round the deer’s body. Its use is to hold
up the trace underneath the belly, and prevent it from dragging the
ground, or getting among the animal’s feet. A similar band of cloth
passes round its neck, giving a fine appearance to the noble creature. A
single rein attached to the left horn, or fixed halter-fashion around
the deer’s head, is all that is necessary to guide it along; the
movements of this, aided by the accents of its master’s voice, are
understood by this well-trained animal.
For all that, the deer does not _always_ travel kindly. Frequently he
takes a fit of obstinacy or anger; and will then turn upon his
trainer,—presenting his antlered front in an attitude of attack. On such
occasions the Lap takes shelter behind his “pulk,” raising it in his
arms, and holding it as a shield wherewith to defend himself; until he
can pacify, or otherwise subdue, the irritated buck.
The tumbling of the sledge, and consequent spilling of its load, is a
thing of frequent occurrence, owing to the narrow base upon which the
vehicle is supported, but the Laplander thinks nothing of a trifling
mishap of this nature. In a trice the “snow-boat” is righted, the
voyager in his seat again, and off over the frozen snow with the speed
of lightning.
The reindeer can travel nearly twenty English miles an hour! This rate
of speed has been proved and tested; and with fresh relays along the
route, over four hundred miles might be made in a day. But the same
thing could be done with horses,—that is, upon a desperate emergency.
The luggage “pulk” of the Laplander differs only from the other kinds of
sledges in being longer, broader, deeper, and consequently of more
capacity to carry goods. It is used for transporting the skins and other
merchantable commodities, from the interior to the trading depots on the
coast.
The _skies_ or snow-skates require very little description. They are on
the same principle as the snow-shoes in use among the North-American
Indians, though from these they differ materially in construction. They
are merely two long pieces of smooth board, a few inches in breadth, and
slightly turned up at the ends. One is full six feet,—the right one; the
left is about twelve inches shorter. Near the middle they are lashed
firmly to the feet by strong pieces of hide; and by means of these
curious appendages, when the snow is crusted over, the Laplander can
skim over its surface with great rapidity. He uses a long pole to guide
and assist him in his movements; and this pole has a piece of circular
board, or a round ball, near its point,—to prevent it from sinking too
deeply in the snow. Going _up hill_ upon the skies is not so easy; but
the practised skater can ascend even the steep acclivities of the
mountains with less difficulty than might be imagined. This is
accomplished in zigzag lines,—each leading to a higher elevation. Down
hill, the course upon _skies_ is rapid almost as the flight of an arrow;
and, by means of the long pole, rocks, ravines, and precipices, are
shunned with a dexterity that is quite surprising. Altogether a
Laplander, either in his reindeer sledge, or upon his long wooden
“skies,” is as interesting a sight as may be seen anywhere.
After all that has been said, it will appear pretty clearly, that the
Laplander, though dwelling so very near to civilized lands, is still
very far distant from _true civilization_.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ANDAMANERS, OR MUD-BEDAUBERS.
On the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal lies a cluster, or archipelago,
of islands known as the “Andamans.” They form a long string running
nearly northward and southward; and with the Nicobar group, still
further to the south, they appear like a series of stepping-stones
connecting Cape Negrais, in the Burmese country, with the island of
Sumatra. Independent of the Nicobar Islands, the Andamans themselves
have an extent of several hundred miles in length; while their breadth
is nowhere over about twenty miles. Until of late the greater portion of
the group was supposed to form only one island,—known as the “Great
Andaman;” but, in the year 1792, this was discovered to have a channel
across it that divided it into two distinct parts.
The discovery of this channel was accidental; and the accident was
attended with melancholy consequences. A vessel from Madras had entered
between the Great Andaman, and the opposite coast of Burmah. This vessel
was laden with provisions, intended for the supply of Port Cornwallis,—a
convict settlement, which the British had formed the preceding year on
the eastern side of the island. The master of the vessel, not knowing
the position of Port Cornwallis, sent a boat to explore an opening which
he saw in the land,—fancying that it might be the entrance to the
harbor. It was not this, however; but the mouth of the channel above
mentioned. The crew of the boat consisted of two Europeans and six
Lascars. It was late in the afternoon when they stood into the entrance;
and, as it soon fell dark upon them, they lost their way, and found
themselves carried along by a rapid current that set towards the Bay of
Bengal. The northeast monsoon was blowing at the time with great
violence; and this, together with the rapid current, soon carried the
boat through the channel; and, in spite of their efforts, they were
driven out into the Indian Ocean, far beyond sight of land. Here for
eighteen days the unfortunate crew were buffeted about; until they were
picked up by a French ship, almost under the equinoctial line, many
hundreds of miles from the channel they had thus involuntarily
discovered! The sad part of the story remains to be told. When relieved
by the French vessel, the two Europeans and three of the Lascars were
still living; the other three Lascars had disappeared. Shocking to
relate, they had been killed and eaten by their companions!
The convict settlement above mentioned was carried on only for a few
years, and then abandoned,—in consequence of the unhealthiness of the
climate, by which the Sepoy guards of the establishment perished in
great numbers.
Notwithstanding this, the Andaman Islands present a very attractive
aspect. A ridge of mountains runs nearly throughout their whole extent,
rising in some places to a height of between two and three thousand
feet. These mountains are covered to their tops by dense forests, that
might be called primeval,—since no trace of clearing or cultivation is
to be found on the whole surface of the islands; nor has any ever
existed within the memory of man, excepting that of the convict
settlement referred to. Some of the forest trees are of great size and
height; and numerous species are intermixed. Mangroves line the shores;
and prickly ferns and wild rattans form an impenetrable brake on the
sides of the hills; bamboos are also common, and the “gambier” or
“cutch” tree (_Agathis_), from which is extracted the Terra Japonica of
commerce. There are others that yield dyes, and a curious species of
screw-pine (_pandanus_),—known as the “Nicobar bread-fruit.”
Notwithstanding their favorable situation, the zoölogy of these islands
is extremely limited in species. The only quadrupeds known to exist upon
them are wild hogs, dogs, and rats; and a variety of the monkey tribe
inhabits the forests of the interior. The land-birds are few,—consisting
of pigeons, doves, small parrots, and the Indian crow; while hawks are
seen occasionally hovering over the trees; and a species of humming-bird
flies about at night, uttering a soft cry that resembles the cooing of
doves. There are owls of several species; and the cliffs that front the
coast are frequented by a singular swallow,—the _hirundo esculenta_,
whose nests are eaten by the wealthy mandarins of China. Along the
shores there are gulls, kingfishers, and other aquatic birds. A large
lizard of the _guana_ species is common, with several others; and a
green snake, of the most venomous description, renders it dangerous to
penetrate the jungle thickets that cover the whole surface of the
country.
In all these matters there is not much that is remarkable,—if we accept
the extreme paucity of the zoölogy; and this is really a
peculiarity,—considering that the Andaman Islands lie within less than
eighty leagues of the Burman territory, a country so rich in mammalia;
considering, too, that they are covered with immense forests, almost
impenetrable to human beings, on account of their thick intertwining of
underwood and parasitical plants,—the very home, one would suppose for
wild beasts of many kinds! And withal we find only three species of
quadrupeds, and these small ones, thinly distributed along the skirts of
the forest. In truth, the Andaman Islands and their _fauna_ have long
been a puzzle to the zoölogist.
But longer still, and to a far greater extent, have their human
inhabitants perplexed the ethnologist; and here we arrive at the true
peculiarity of the Andaman Islands,—that is to say, the _people_ who
inhabit them. With perhaps no exception, these people are the most truly
savage of any on the face of the globe; and this has been their
character from the earliest times: for they have been known to the
ancients as far back as the time of Ptolemy. Ptolemy mentions them under
the title of _anthropophagi_ (man-eaters); and the Arabs of the ninth
century, who navigated the Indian Ocean, have given a similar account of
them. Marco Polo adopts this statement, and what is still more
surprising, one of the most noted ethnologists of our own time—Dr.
Latham—has given way to a like credulity, and puts the poor Andamaners
down as “pagan cannibals.” It is an error; they are not cannibals in any
sense of the word; and if they have ever eaten human flesh,—of which
there is no proof,—it has been when impelled by famine. Under like
circumstances, some of every nation on earth have done the
same,—Englishmen, Germans, Frenchmen, Americans,—of late years
frequently,—in the mountains of New Mexico and California.
The charge of cannibalism against these miserable beings rests on no
other foundation than the allegations of Chinese sailors, and the vague
statements of Ptolemy and the Arabs above mentioned.
The Chinese have occasion now and then to visit the Andaman Islands in
their junks, to collect the edible nests of the swallow (_hirundo
esculenta_),—which birds have extensive breeding-places on the cliffs
that overhang the coast of the Great Andaman. The “trepang,” or
sea-slug, is also found in large quantities upon the rocks near the
shore; and this is equally an object of commerce, and esteemed an
article of the greatest luxury, among the mandarins, and other rich
celestials who can afford to indulge in it.
Now and then, a junk has been wrecked among these rocks; and its
miserable crew have fallen a victim to the hostility of the natives:
just as they might have done on more civilized coasts, where no
cannibalism was ever suspected to exist. Crews of junks have been
totally destroyed,—murdered, if you please,—but it would not be
difficult to show, that this was done more from motives of revenge than
from a mere sanguinary instinct or disposition; but there is no proof
whatever of even a single case, of true cannibalism. Indeed, there are
strong reasons for our disbelief in this horrid, custom,—so far as
regards the poor savages of the Andamans. An incident, that seems to
give a flat contradiction to it occurred during the occupancy of the
island by the East-India Company in the year 1793; and other proofs of
non-cannibalism have been obtained at a still more recent period, to
which we shall presently allude.
The incident of 1793 was as follows: A party of fishers belonging to the
settlement enticed an Andaman woman to come near, by holding out
presents of food. The woman was made captive by these treacherous men;
who, instead of relieving her hunger, proceeded to behave to her in the
most brutal and unfeeling manner. The cries of the poor creature brought
a numerous troop of her people to the spot; who, rushing out of the
thickets from every side, collected around the fishermen; and, having
attacked them with spears and arrows, succeeded in killing two of their
number. The rest with difficulty escaped to the settlement; and, having
obtained assistance, a large party set out to search for the bodies of
their companions. There was but little expectation that these would be
recovered: as all were under the belief that the savages must have
carried them away for the purpose of making a cannibal feast upon them.
There had been ample time for the removing of them: since the scene of
the struggle was at a considerable distance from the fort.
The searchers, therefore, were somewhat astonished it finding both
bodies on the spot where they had fall in, and the enemy entirely gone
from the ground! The bodies were disfigured in the most shocking manner.
The flesh was pierced in every part,—by spears, no doubt,—and the bones
had been pounded with heavy stones, until they were mashed into
fragments; but not a bit of flesh was removed, not even an arm or limb
had been severed!
The other instance to which we have promised to allude occurred at a
much more recent period,—so late, in fact, as the period of the King of
Delhi’s imprisonment. It will be fresh in the memory of my readers, that
his Hindoo majesty was carried to the island of Great Andaman, along
with a number of “Sepoy” rebels, who had been taken prisoners during the
late Indian revolt. The convict settlement was restored, especially for
this purpose; and a detachment of “East-India Company’s troops” was sent
along with the rebel sepoys to guard them. It was supposed that the
troops would have great difficulty in the performance of their duty:
since the number of their prisoners was larger than could be fairly
looked after; and, it was well known, that, if a prisoner could once get
clear of the walls of the fort, it would be altogether idle to pursue
him. The chase after a fugitive through the tangled forests of the
Andamans would be emphatically a “wild-goose” chase; and there would be
ten chances to one against his being recaptured.
Such, in reality, did it appear, for the first week or two, after the
settlement was re-established. Numerous prisoners escaped into the
woods, and as it was deemed idle to follow them, they were given up as
“lost birds.”
In the end, however, it proved that they were not all lost,—though some
of them were. After a week or two had expired, they began to straggle
back to the fort, and voluntarily deliver themselves up to their old
guards,—now one, now another, or two or three at a time,—but all of them
in the most forlorn and deplorable condition. They had enjoyed a little
liberty on the Andaman isles; but a taste of it had proved sufficient to
satisfy them that captivity in a well-rationed guard-house was ever
preferable to freedom with a hungry stomach, added to the risk which
they ran every hour of the day of being impaled upon the spears of the
savages. Many of them actually met with this fate; and others only
escaped half dead from the hostile treatment they had received at the
hands of the islanders. There was no account, however, that any of them
had been _eaten_,—no evidence that their implacable enemies were
cannibals.
Such are a few arguments that seem to controvert the accusation of
Ptolemy and the two Arab merchants,—in whose travels the statement is
found, and afterwards copied by the famous Marco Polo. Probably the
Arabs obtained their idea from Ptolemy, Marco Polo from the Arabs, and
Dr. Latham from Marco Polo. Indeed, it is by no means certain that
Ptolemy meant the Andaman Islands by his _Islæ bonæ Fortunæ_, or
“Good-luck Isles,”—certainly a most inappropriate appellation. He may
have referred to Sumatra and its Battas,—who _are_ cannibals beyond a
doubt. And, after all, what could Ptolemy know about the matter except
from vague report, or, more likely still, more vague _speculation_,—a
process of reasoning practised in Ptolemy’s time, just as at the present
day. We are too ready to adopt the errors of the ancient writers,—as if
men were more infallible then than they are now; and, on the other hand,
we are equally prone to incredulity,—often rejecting their testimony
when it would conduct to truth.
I believe there is no historic testimony—ancient or modern—before us, to
prove that the Andaman islanders are cannibals; and yet, with all the
testimony to the contrary, there is one fact, or rather a hypothesis,
which shall be presently adduced, that would point to the _probability_
of their being so.
If they are not cannibals, however, they are not the less unmitigated
_savages_, of the very lowest grade and degree. They are unacquainted
with almost the very humblest arts of social life; and are not even so
far advanced in the scale as to have an organization. In this respect
they are upon a par with the Bushmen of Africa and the Diggers of North
America: still more do they resemble the wretched starvelings of Tierra
del Fuego. They have no tribal tie; but dwell in scattered groups or
gangs,—just as monkeys or other animals of a gregarious nature.
In person, the Andaman is one of the very “ugliest” of known savages. He
is of short stature, attaining to the height of only five feet; and his
wife is a head shorter than himself. Both are as black as pitch, could
their natural color be discovered; but the skin is usually hidden under
a mask of rare material, which we shall presently have occasion to
describe.
The upper half of the Andamaner’s body is strongly and compactly built,
and his arms are muscular enough. It is below, in the limbs, where he is
most lacking in development. His legs are osseous and thin; and, only
when he is in fine condition, is there the slightest swell on them that
would indicate the presence of a calf. His feet are of monstrous length,
and without any symmetry,—the heel projecting far backwards, in the
fashion usually styled “lark-heeled.” It is just possible that a good
deal of practice, by running over mud-banks and quicksands in search of
his shell-fish subsistence, may have added to the natural development of
his pedal extremities; for there can be no longer any doubt, that like
effects have been produced by such causes,—effects that are indeed,
after all, more _natural_ than _artificial_.
The Andamaner exhibits the protuberance of belly noticed among other
savages, who lead a starving life; and his countenance is usually marked
with an expression that betrays a mixture of ferocity and famine.
It is worthy of remark, however, that though these stunted proportions
are generally observable among the natives of the Andaman Islands, they
do not appear to be universal. It is chiefly on the island of the Great
Andaman that the most wretched of these savages are found. The Little
Andaman seems to produce a better breed: since parties have been met
with on this last-named island, in which many individuals were observed
nearly six feet in height, and stout in proportion. One of these
parties, and the incident of meeting with it, are thus described by an
officer who was present:—
“We had not gone far, when, at an angle of the jungle, which covers the
island to within a few yards of the water’s edge, we came suddenly upon
a party of the natives, lying upon their bellies behind the bushes,
armed with spears, arrows, and long-bows, which they bent at us in a
threatening manner. Our Lascars, as soon as they saw them, fell back in
great consternation, levelling their muskets and running into the sea
towards the boats. It was with great difficulty we could prevent our
cowardly rascals from firing; the tyndal was the only one who stood by
the chief mate and myself. We advanced within a few paces of the
natives, and made signs of drinking, to intimate the purpose of our
visit. The tyndal salaamed to them, according to the different oriental
modes of salutation,—he spoke to them in Malay, and other languages; but
they returned no answer, and continued in their crouching attitude,
pointing their weapons at us whenever we turned. I held out my
handkerchief, but they would not come from behind the bushes to take it.
I placed it upon the ground; and we returned, in order to allow them an
opportunity of picking it up: still they would not move.