them very lusty; and further on, six more. They were very different in
appearance from what the natives of the Great Andaman are represented to
be,—that is, of a puny race. The whole party was completely naked, with
the exception of one,—a stout man nearly six feet in height, who was
standing up along with two or three women in the rear. He wore on his
head a red cloth with white spots.
“They were the most ferocious and wild-looking beings I ever beheld.
Those parts of their bodies that were not besmeared with mud, were of a
sooty black color. Their faces seemed to be painted with a red ochre.”
Notwithstanding the difference in stature and other respects,—the result
no doubt of a better condition of existence,—the inhabitants of both
islands, Great and Little Andaman, are the same race of people; and in
the portrait, the faces of both may be considered as one and the same.
This brings us to the strangest fact in whole history of the Andaman
islander. Instead of a Hindoo face, or a Chinese Mongolian face, or that
of a Malay,—any of which we might reasonably expect to find in an
aboriginal of the Bay of Bengal,—we trace in the Andaman islander the
true physiognomy of a negro. Not only have we the flat nose and thick
lips, but the curly hair, the sooty complexion, and all the other negro
characteristics. And the most ill-favored variety at that; for, in
addition to the ungraceful features already mentioned, we find a head
large beyond all proportion, and a pair of small, red eyes deeply sunken
in their sockets. Truly the Andaman islander has few pretensions to
being a beauty!
Wretched, however, as the Andaman islander may appear, and of little
importance as he certainly is in the great social family of the human
race, he is, ethnologically speaking, one of its most interesting
varieties. From the earliest times he has been a subject of speculation,
or rather his presence in that particular part of the world where he is
now found: for, since it is the general belief that he is entirely
isolated from the two acknowledged negro races, and surrounded by other
types of the human family, far different from either, the wonder is how
he came to be there.
Perhaps no other two thousand people on earth—for that is about the
number of Andaman islanders—have been honored with a greater amount of
speculation in regard to their origin. Some ethnologists assign to them
an African origin, and account for their presence upon the Andaman
Islands by a singular story: that a Portuguese ship laden with African
slaves, and proceeding to the Indian colonies, was wrecked in the Bay of
Bengal, and, of course, off the coast of the Andamans that the crew were
murdered by the slaves; who, set free by this circumstance, became the
inhabitants of the island. This story is supported by the argument, that
the hostility which the natives now so notoriously exhibit, had its
origin in a spirit of revenge: that still remembering the cruel
treatment received on the “middle passage” at the hands of their
Portuguese masters, they have resolved never to be enslaved again; but
to retaliate upon the white man, whenever he may fall into their power!
Certainly the circumstances would seem to give some color to the tale,
if it had any foundation; but it has none. Were we to credit it, it
would be necessary to throw Ptolemy and the Arab merchants overboard,
and Marco Polo to boot. All these have recorded the existence of the
Andaman islanders, long before ever a Portuguese keel cleft the waters
of the Indian Ocean,—long even before Di Gama doubled the Cape!
But without either the aid of Ptolemy or the testimony of the Arabian
explorers, it can be established that the Andaman Islands were inhabited
before the era of the Portuguese in India; and by the same race of
savages as now dwell upon them.
Another theory is: that it was an _Arabian_ slave-ship that was wrecked,
and not a Portuguese; and this would place the peopling of the islands
at a much earlier period. There is no positive fact, however, to support
this theory,—which, like the other, rests only on mere speculation.
The error of these hypotheses lies in their mistaken _data_; for,
although we have stated that the Andaman islanders are undoubtedly a
negro race, they are not that negro race to which the speculation
points,—in other words, they are not _African_ negroes. Beyond certain
marked features, as the flat nose and thick lips, they have nothing in
common with these last. Their hair is more of the kind called “frizzly,”
than of the “woolly” texture of that of the Ethiopian negro; and in this
respect they assimilate closely to the “Papuan,” or New Guinea
“negrillo,” which every one knows is a very different being from the
_African_ negro.
Their moral characteristics—such as there has been an opportunity of
observing among them—are also an additional proof that they are not of
African origin; while these point unmistakably to a kinship with the
other side of the Indian Ocean. Even some of their fashions, as we shall
presently have occasion to notice, have a like tendency to confirm the
belief that the Andaman is a “negrillo,” and not a “negro.” The only
obstacle to this belief has hitherto been the fact of their isolated
situation: since it is alleged—rather hastily as we shall see—that the
whole of the opposite continent of the Burmese and other empires, is
peopled by races entirely distinct: that none of the adjacent
islands—the Nicobars and Sumatra—have any negro or negrillo inhabitants:
and that the Andamaners are thus cut off, as it were, from any possible
line of migration which they could have followed in entering the Bay of
Bengal. Ethnologists, however, seem to have overlooked the circumstance
that this allegation is not strictly true. The _Samangs_—a tribe
inhabiting the mountainous parts of the Maylayan peninsula—are also a
negro or negrillo race; a fact which at once establishes a link in the
chain of a supposed migration from the great Indian archipelago.
This lets the Andaman islander into the Great China Sea; or rather,
coming from that sea, it forms the stepping-stone to his present
residence in the Bay of Bengal. Who can say that he was not at one time
the owner of the Maylayan peninsula? How can we account for the strange
fact, that figures of Boodh—the Guadma of the Burmese and Siamese—are
often seen in India beyond the Ganges, delineated with the curly hair
and other characteristic features of the negro?
The theory that the Samang and Andaman islander once ruled the Malay
peninsula; that they themselves came from eastward,—from the great
islands of the Melanesian group, the centre and source of the negrillo
race,—will in some measure account for this singular monumental
testimony. The probability, moreover, is always in favor of a migration
_westward within the tropics_. Beyond the tropics, the rule is sometimes
reversed.
A coincidence of personal habit, between the Andaman islander and the
Melanesian, is also observed. The former dyes his head of a brown or
reddish color,—the very fashion of the Feegee!
Suppose, then, that the Samang and Andaman islander came down the
trades, at a period too remote for even tradition to deal with it:
suppose they occupied the Malay peninsula, no matter how long; and that
at a much more recent period, they were pushed out of place,—the one
returning to the Andaman Islands, the other to the mountains of the
Quedah: suppose also that the party pushing them off were Malays,—who
had themselves been drifted for hundreds of years down the trades from
the far shores of America (for this is _our_ “speculation”): suppose all
these circumstances to have taken place, and you will be able to account
for two facts that have for a long time puzzled the ethnologist. One is
the presence of negroes on the islands of Andaman,—and the other of
Malays in the southeastern corner of Asia. We might bring forward many
arguments to uphold the probability of these hypotheses, had we space
and time. Both, however, compel us to return to the more particular
subject of our sketch; and we shall do so after having made a remark,
promised above, and which relates to the _probability_ of the Andaman
islander being a cannibal. This, then, _would lie in the fact of his
being a Papuan negro_. And yet, again, it is only a seeming; for it
might be shown that with the Papuan cannibalism is not a natural
instinct. It is only where he has reached a high degree of
_civilization_, as in the case of the Feegee islander. Call the latter a
monster if you will; but, as may be learnt from our account of him, he
is anything but a _savage_, in the usual acceptation of the term. In
fact, language has no epithet sufficiently vile to characterize such an
anomalous animal as he.
I have endeavored to clear the Andaman islander of the charge of this
guilt; and, since appearances are so much against him, he ought to feel
grateful. It is doubtful whether he would, should this fall into his
hands, and he be able to read it. The portrait of his face without that
stain upon it, he might regard as ugly enough; and that of his habits,
which now follows, is not much more flattering.
His house is little better than the den of a wild beast, and far
inferior in ingenuity of construction to those which beavers build. A
few poles stuck in the ground are leant towards each other, and tied
together at the top. Over these a wattle of reeds and rattan-leaves
forms the roof; and on the floor a “shake-down” of withered leaves makes
his bed, or, perhaps it should rather be called his “lair.” This, it
will be perceived, is just the house built by Diggers, Bushmen, and
Fuegians. There are no culinary utensils,—only a drinking-cup of the
_nautilus_ shell; but implements of war and the chase in plenty: for
such are found even amongst the lowest of savages. They consist of bows,
arrows, and a species of javelin or dart. The bows are very long, and
made of the bamboo cane,—as are also the darts. The arrows are usually
pointed with the tusks of the small wild hogs which inhabit the islands.
These they occasionally capture in the chase, hanging up the skulls in
their huts as trophies and ornaments. With strings of the hog’s teeth
also they sometimes ornament their bodies; but they are not very vain in
this respect. Sometimes pieces of iron are found among them,—nails
flattened to form the blades of knives, or to make an edge for their
adzes, the heads of which are of hard wood. These pieces of iron they
have no doubt obtained from wrecked vessels, or in the occasional
intercourse which they have had with the convict establishment; but
there is no regular commerce with them,—in fact, no commerce
whatever,—as even the Malay traders, that go everywhere, do not visit
the Andamaners, from dread of their well-known Ishmaelitish character.
Some of the communities, more forward in civilization, possess articles
of more ingenious construction,—such as baskets to hold fruits and
shell-fish, well-made bows, and arrows with several heads, for shooting
fish. The only other article they possess of their own manufacture, is a
rude kind of canoe, hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, by means of
fire and their poor adze. A bamboo raft, of still ruder structure,
enables them to cross the narrow bays and creeks by which their coast is
indented.
Their habitual dwelling-place is upon the shore. They rarely penetrate
the thick forests of the interior, where there is nothing to tempt them:
for the wild hog, to which they sometimes give chase, is found only
along the coasts where the forest is thinner and more straggling, or
among the mangrove-bushes,—on the fruits of which these animals feed.
Strange to say, the forest, though luxuriant in species, affords but few
trees that bear edible fruits. The cocoa-palm—abundant in all other
parts of the East-Indian territories, and even upon the Cocos Islands,
that lie a little north of the Andamans—does not grow upon these
mountain islands. Since the savages know nothing of cultivation, of
course their dependence upon a vegetable diet would be exceedingly
precarious. A few fruits and roots are eaten by them. The pandanus,
above mentioned, bears a fine cone-shaped fruit, often weighing between
thirty and forty pounds; and this, under the name of _mellori_, or
“Nicobar bread-fruit,” forms part of their food. But it requires a
process of cooking, which, being quite unknown to the Andamaners, must
make it to them a “bitter fruit” even when roasted in the ashes of their
fires, which is their mode of preparing it. They eat also the fruit of
the mangrove, and of some other trees, but these are not obtainable at
all seasons, or in such quantity as to afford them a subsistence. They
depend principally upon fish, which they broil in a primitive manner
over a gridiron of bamboos, sometimes not waiting till they are half
done. They especially subsist upon shell-fish, several kinds abounding
on their coasts, which they obtain among the rocks after the tide has
gone out. To gather these is the work of the women, while the men employ
themselves in fishing or in the chase of the wild hog. The species of
shell-fish most common are the _murex tribulus_, _trochus telescopium_,
_cypræa caurica_, and muscles. They are dexterous in capturing other
fish with their darts, which they strike down upon the finny prey,
either from their rafts, or by wading up to their knees in the water.
They also take fish by torchlight,—that is, by kindling dry grass, the
blaze of which attracts certain species into the shallow water, where
the fishers stand in wait for them.
When the fishery fails them, and the oysters and muscles become scarce,
they are often driven to sad extremities, and will then eat anything
that will sustain life,—lizards, insects, worms,—perhaps even _human
flesh_. They are not unfrequently in such straits; and instances are
recorded, where they have been found lying upon the shore in the last
stages of starvation.
An instance of this kind is related in connection with the convict
settlement of 1793. A coasting-party one day discovered two Andamaners
lying upon the beach. They were at first believed to be dead, but as it
proved, they were only debilitated from hunger: being then in the very
last stages of famine. They were an old man and a boy; and having been
carried at once to the fort, every means that humanity could suggest was
used to recover them. With the boy this result was accomplished; but the
old man could not be restored: his strength was too far gone; and he
died, shortly after being brought to the settlement.
Two women or young girls were also found far gone with hunger; so far,
that a piece of fish held out was sufficient to allure them into the
presence of a boat’s crew that had landed on the shore. They were taken
on board the ship, and treated with the utmost humanity. In a short time
they got rid of all fears of violence being offered them; but seemed, at
the same time, to be sensible of modesty to a great degree. They had a
small apartment allotted to them; and though they could hardly have had
any real cause for apprehension, yet it was remarked that the two never
went to sleep at the same time: one always kept watch while the other
slept! When time made them more familiar with the good intentions
towards them, they became exceedingly cheerful, chattered with freedom,
and were amused above all things at the sight of their own persons in a
mirror. They allowed clothes to be put on them; but took them off again,
whenever they thought they were not watched, and threw them away as a
useless encumbrance! They were fond of singing; sometimes in a
melancholy recitative, and sometimes in a lively key; and they often
gave exhibitions of dancing around the deck, in the fashion peculiar to
the Andamans. They would not drink either wine or any spirituous liquor;
but were immoderately fond of fish and sugar. They also ate rice when it
was offered to them. They remained, or rather were retained, several
weeks on board the ship and had become so smooth and plump, under the
liberal diet they indulged in, that they were scarce recognizable as the
half-starved creatures that had been brought aboard so recently. It was
evident, however, that they were not contented. Liberty, even with
starvation allied to it, appeared sweeter to them than captivity in the
midst of luxury and ease. The result proved that this sentiment was no
stranger to them: for one night, when all but the watchman were asleep,
they stole silently through the captain’s cabin, jumped out of the stern
windows into the sea, and swam to an island full half a mile distant
from the ship! It was thought idle to pursue them; but, indeed, there
was no intention of doing so. The object was to retain them by kindness,
and try what effect might thus be produced on their wild companions,
when they should return to them. Strange to say, this mode of dealing
with the Andaman islanders has been made repeatedly, and always with the
same fruitless result. Whatever may have been the original cause that
interrupted their intercourse with the rest of mankind, they seem
determined that this intercourse shall never be renewed.
When plenty reigns among them, and there has been a good take of fish,
they act like other starved wretches and yield themselves up to feasting
and gorging, till not a morsel remains. At such times they give way to
excessive mirth,—dancing for hours together, and chattering all the
while like as many apes.
They are extremely fond of “tripping it on the light fantastic toe;” and
their dance is peculiar. It is carried on by the dancers forming a ring,
and leaping about, each at intervals saluting his own posteriors with a
slap from his foot,—a feat which both the men and women perform with
great dexterity. Not unfrequently this mode of salutation is passed from
one to the other, around the whole ring,—causing unbounded merriment
among the spectators.
Their fashion of dress is, perhaps, the most peculiar of all known
costumes. As to clothing, they care nothing about it,—the females only
wearing a sort of narrow fringe around the waist,—not from motives of
modesty, but simply as an ornament; and in this scant garment we have a
resemblance to the _liku_ of the Feegeeans. It can hardly be said,
however, that either men or women go entirely naked; for each morning,
after rising from his couch of leaves, the Andamaner plasters the whole
of his body with a thick coat of mud, which he wears throughout the day.
Wherever this cracks from getting dry by the sun, the place is patched
or mended up with a fresh layer. The black mop upon his head is not
permitted to wear its natural hue; but, as already mentioned, is colored
by means of a red ochreous earth, which is found in plenty upon the
islands. This reddening of his poll is the only attempt which the
Andamaner makes at personal adornment; for his livery of mud is assumed
for a purpose of utility,—to protect his body from the numerous
mosquitoes, and other biting insects, whose myriads infest the lowland
coast upon which he dwells.
A startling peculiarity of these islanders is the unmitigated hostility
which they exhibit, and have always exhibited, towards every people with
whom they have come in contact. It is not the white man alone whom they
hate and harass; but they also murder the Malay, whose skin is almost as
dark as their own. This would seem to contradict the hypothesis of a
tradition of hostility preserved amongst them, and directed against
white men who enslaved their ancestors; but, indeed, that story has been
sufficiently refuted. A far more probable cause of their universal
hatred is, that, at some period of their history, they have been grossly
abused; so much so as to render suspicion and treachery almost an
instinct of their nature.
In these very characteristic moral features we find another of those
striking analogies that would seem to connect them with the negrillo
races of the Eastern Archipelago; but, whether they are or are not
connected with them, their appearance upon the Andamans is no greater
mystery, than the solitary “fox-wolf” on the Falkland Islands, or the
smallest wingless insect in some lone islet of the Ocean?
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THE PATAGONIAN GIANTS.
Who has not heard of the _giants_ of Patagonia? From the days of
Magellan, when they were first seen, many a tale has been told, and many
a speculation indulged in about these colossal men: some representing
them as very Titans, of twelve feet in height, and stout in proportion:
that, when standing a little astride, an ordinary-sized man could pass
between their legs without even stooping his head! So talked the early
navigators of the Great South Sea.
Since the time when these people were first seen by Europeans, up to the
present hour,—in all, three hundred and thirty years ago,—it is
astonishing how little has been added to our knowledge of them; the more
so, that almost every voyager who has since passed through the Straits
of Magellan, has had some intercourse with them;—the more so, that
Spanish people have had settlements on the confines of their country;
and one—an unsuccessful one, however—in the very heart of it! But these
Spanish settlements have all decayed, or are fast decaying; and when the
Spanish race disappears from America,—which sooner or later it will most
certainly do,—it will leave behind it a greater paucity of monumental
record, than perhaps any civilized nation ever before transmitted to
posterity.
Little, however, as we have learnt about the customs of the Patagonian
people, we have at least obtained a more definite idea of their height.
_They have been measured._ The twelve-feet giants can no longer be
found; they never existed, except in the fertile imaginations of some of
the old _navigators_,—whose embodied testimony, nevertheless, it is
difficult to disbelieve. Other and more reliable witnesses have done
away with the Titans; but still we are unable to reduce the stature of
the Patagonians to that of ordinary men. If not actual _giants_, they
are, at all events, very tall men,—many of them standing seven feet in
their boots of guanaco-leather, few less than six, and a like few rising
nearly to eight! These measurements are definite and certain; and
although the whole number of the Indians that inhabit the plains of
Patagonia may not reach the above standard there are tribes of smaller
men called by the common name Patagonians,—yet many individuals
certainly exist who come up to it.
If not positive giants, then, it is safe enough to consider the
Patagonians as among the “tallest” of human beings,—perhaps the very
tallest that exist, or ever existed, upon the face of the earth; and for
this reason, if for no other, they are entitled to be regarded as an
“odd people.” But they have other claims to this distinction; for their
habits and customs, although in general corresponding to those of other
tribes of American Indians, present us with many points that are
peculiar.
It may be remarked that the Patagonian women, although not so tall as
their men, are in the usual proportion observable between the sexes.
Many of them are more corpulent than the men; and if the latter be
called _giants_, the former have every claim to the appellation of
_giantesses_!