The river at first ran through a forest of young, but lofty, mangroves (_Bruguiera gymnorhiza_), whose straight stems, leaning towards each other across the stream, bore a certain resemblance to an a.s.semblage of scaffold-poles. At length, when the land became less swampy, they gave place to a fringe of nipah or attap palms, the fruit of which looks like an exaggerated pine cone, and is sometimes eaten by Malays, while from the tender inner shoot, the same people obtain a wrapper for their cigarettes.[74]

Finally, where the banks became dry and solid, they were overgrown by luxuriant jungle--a mixture of forest trees, bamboos, palms and rattans, with here and there bordering the stream, a many-footed, white-skinned panda.n.u.s, and often a beautiful tree fern (_Alsophila albasetecea_), that immediately brought to my mind the blue hills and equally lovely valleys of New Zealand.

The stream, although maintaining a depth of 5 to 10 feet, at length became very narrow, and we were compelled, in order to proceed, to chop away the network of vegetation that overhung the water. Now and again it ran through open s.p.a.ces covered with tall and matted gra.s.s, and then between banks a dozen feet high; but when we were forced to stop, unable to proceed further, the water was still brackish, although we had almost reached the hills in which it takes its source. The banks were frequented by herons, redshanks and other waders, and kingfishers (both _P. leucocephala_, with sandy head and body and blue wings, and the tiny _bengalensis_, the counterpart of our English bird). Several beautiful b.u.t.terflies were seen, a rather common species, with velvety black wings, blotched with turquoise, constantly flitting up and down the course of the stream.

We obtained good water in the harbour; slightly to the west of the little bay, a rocky hill makes an angle with a little beach of bright sand, and at the point of junction a path leads to the spring a few yards inland, where, in the jungle, the trickling water runs down a face of black rock, and collects in a stony basin. By forming a slight dam at the foot of the rock, any quant.i.ty can be collected.

In the rocky hill just mentioned, we discovered several caves, which run inwards from mouths situated at the water's level. These are the homes of thousands of tiny leaf-nosed bats (_Hipposideros nicobarulae_, sp.

nov.), and immense numbers of the bird's-nest swift (_Collocalia linchii_).

The largest of these caves is about 50 feet deep, and 20 feet high at the entrance; but at the back the acc.u.mulation of guano is so great that there is barely room to stand. As we entered with a lantern, our feet sinking ankle-deep into the soft chocolate-coloured floor, there was a continual rush of little bats and birds overhead as they sought to escape, and with a leafy branch we knocked over a number of each kind before going to the end.

The rock at the back was covered with countless numbers of the shallow cup-shaped nests of saliva-gummed moss: so closely were they built, that in many cases one could not place a fingertip on the rock between them, and often they were constructed one on the side of the other. Nearly every one contained two comparatively large, white eggs, or ugly, unfledged nestlings. Fortunately for the birds, they are builders of the green variety of nest; for had these been white, they would not long have remained undisturbed by the Chinese.

Swifts and bats--the one as graceful as the other is hideous--would seem queer neighbours, although there is a certain affinity between the two, for both enjoy the same food--flies and other insects--and obtain it on the wing without mutual interference; for the first hunt by day, and the others are nocturnal. In the cave, the swallows breed at the inner end, while the bats congregate near the mouth.

Another small cave was inhabited by bats only, and so thickly were they suspended from the walls, that one could kill a dozen at one blow. For long after we left the spot, clouds of swifts whirled about the entrance; but the bats, when disturbed, immediately disappeared in the jungle above.

The only path on Little Nicobar runs across its northern peninsula. It starts near a couple of dilapidated huts opposite Pulo Milo, and, running first through a belt of tangled scrub, crosses the little range of hills near the western coast, and then, traversing a stretch of rich flat soil, covered with splendid open forest, and great numbers of the Nicobar palm (_P. augusta_), finally comes out on the east coast opposite the small island of Menchal, which lies a mile or so distant, and is only half a square mile in area. It is covered with forest, containing many coco palms and tree ferns, and also clumps of two species of giant bamboo (_Bambusa brandisii_ and _Gigantochloa macrostachya_). It is of sandstone formation, covered with deep soil or sharply-worn coral. Somewhat farther down the coast is a small village, and the path has been made to connect this with Pulo Milo.

The forest through which the path ran was our favourite collecting ground. We met there for the first time the beautiful little sunbird _Aethopyga nicobarica_, with crown and tail dark shining blue, throat and breast scarlet, through which ran two moustachial streaks of brilliant blue, the remaining plumage olive grey, but further ornamented by patches of bright yellow beneath the wing and on the back.

This is the male, for the hen bird, as in all sunbirds, is of very inconspicuous plumage. This species is very local in distribution, and does not occur in the northern islands.

_Astur soloensis_, the forest hawk, was not uncommon, but took pains to obtain, for it was very wary. Before beginning to call, one had to hide in a bush, or behind a tree trunk, and the chances were that when the bird did arrive it would perch behind you, and then, since its swooping flight is perfectly noiseless, one remained in ignorance of its proximity. Then, too, it might rest five yards away or fifty: in the former case, if you were not prepared with a suitable cartridge, the bird was lost, for there would be no time to reload; in the latter event, it was better to knock it over straightway than run risks in bringing it closer. Once they become frightened, or see what is making the call, they are off, not to return, "charm you never so wisely."

A parrot--_Palaeornis caniceps_--restricted entirely to the two southern islands of the Nicobars, was very common about here, where its screams and chattering often broke the prevailing silence of the jungle. For such a bird, it was clad in sober colours; for, saving a grey head, across the front of which--like a pair of spectacles--there ran a patch of black feathers, the plumage was of green only. The whole scheme was somewhat relieved in the male by an upper mandible of scarlet.

Monkeys abounded, and on some days we might see as many as fifty or a hundred. They are so numerous that in both Little and Great Nicobar the coco palms, except in the neighbourhood of villages, are altogether unproductive, and this, according to the natives, is because the monkeys screw off every nut the moment it begins to form.[75]

They, too, are very timid in some ways, but one is able to get at them through their intense curiosity. The attempt to stalk a herd of these animals is often a futile proceeding; but if, when you have seen them, you keep quite still, and attract their attention by some unusual noise, such as a continued tapping on your gun-barrel, you will generally have them all round you in a very short time.

The effect, on the monkey, of man's appearance, is most interesting. The expression of their emotions is certainly almost human, as they sit and stare at him, coughing and snarling with anger and contempt, drawing back their heads and throwing the hand before the face with a gesture of abhorrence, and other movements indicative of shocked and outraged feelings. But predominant is the expression of absolute horror, which, coming from those we consider our still degraded cousins, is to our superiority very aggravating.

A troop of monkeys travelling through the forest and feeding as they move, is also worth watching. Their presence is plainly indicated, even when some distance off, by the crashing noise made as they leap from tree to tree. Having reached the extremity of one branch, the monkey, with a swing and a flying leap, conveys himself to another, not alighting as a rule on a bough of any size, but generally coming down on all fours amongst the small twigs, a bunch of which is immediately embraced.

In their manner of feeding they show a perpetual craving for change, the most fruitful tree not detaining them for many moments; while for each fruit from which a single bite is taken, half a dozen are plucked and thrown down.

Crabs swarmed nearly everywhere: scarlet hermits, that dragged about their variously-shaped domiciles in which they shut themselves up and lay inert when disturbed; and the hideous, purplish land-crabs, that scrambled away waving threatening claws at sight of a stranger. So numerous and rapacious were all these, that a week's a.s.siduous trapping for mammals only produced one specimen, since the baits were always immediately discovered and devoured by the unwelcome and valueless crustacean.

Before we left, a number of men from Great Nicobar arrived in a large canoe: they were proceeding to Nankauri on one of the expeditions undertaken by the Nicobarese when they desire to obtain the pottery manufactured only by the women of Chaura.

We weighed anchor at sunrise on March 4th, having added a pitta, an owl, and the _Rhinomyias_--all new species--to the avifauna of the islands during a most satisfactory visit of seven days.

CHAPTER XII

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 anch.o.r.ed 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e, crossed a little stream, and making a detour round a ma.s.s 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 rea.s.suring 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-ong."

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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e.

After exploring the neighbourhood, we found a good patch of flat jungle on the east sh.o.r.e 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 p.r.o.nounced 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.