CHAPTER VIII
NANKAURI
The Harbour Shores—A Village—Kanaia—Canoe—Feeding the Animals—Collecting-ground—Mangrove Creeks—Preparations for a Festival—Burial Customs—Malacca Village—Houses—Visit Tanamara—Furniture—Talismans and "Scare-devils"—Beliefs—Festivities—A Dance—An Educated Native—Tanamara and his Relations—Cigarettes—Refreshments—The Collections—Geology—Flora—Population—Piracy.
On the morning of the 5th we weighed anchor, and proceeded to Nankauri harbour. The entrance is about a quarter of a mile wide, and its northern coast, once the site of the Government settlement, is the only open grassy portion of the harbour shores. Just within the point stands the flag-staff, and above it, on the crest of a low hill, a little graveyard lies within the shade of casuarinas. A long jetty of coral blocks runs out from the shore, and near by is the house of the agent. Opposite, on either side of Mayo Point, are the villages of Malacca and Inúanga, and behind them the forest-clad slopes stretch to grassy uplands.
INÚANGA VILLAGE, NANKAURI HARBOUR.
We sailed into Spiteful Bay, which lies just behind the southern point of the harbour entrance, and anchored in 12 fathoms, mud and sand, close to a little village of a dozen houses standing above the beach.[38] In front of these and planted in shallow water, rose a number of tall poles, each made of several spars bound end to end with rattan, and ornamented at intervals with bunches of palm leaves. These the natives call kanaia: they have, we were told repeatedly, no superstitious significance; one is put up for each inhabited house in the village, and renewed periodically.[39]
Landing at the village (matai) is easy, for below the water-level the sandy shore slopes downwards at an angle of 45°, a condition made possible by the tranquility of the harbour water. The houses, (n'gi) are less solidly built than those of Kar Nicobar, possess a small side-wall about 4 feet high, of boards, and a pointed finial crowning the conical roof; but do not have the protective discs on the supports: the door, too, and a number of small windows open in the sides, and the latter are all supplied with shutters that swing freely on a wooden hinge.
A new and very large canoe was lying on the beach, the dug-out portion, without additions, measuring 42 feet long by 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep. The hull was charred, and decorated by grooved bands running at short intervals from gunwale to gunwale round the outside. Canoes are fitted, according to size, with from one to four short bamboo masts, each supported by four wide-spreading stays of rattan, and on these are hoisted lateen sails with a short tack of about 12 inches, made of cotton or pandanus leaves. The masts are never stepped on the floor of the canoe, but always on one of the crossbars or thwarts.
The people about the village were feeding their dogs and pigs with a kind of gruel in wooden troughs, and as the animals were judged to have enough, each was smacked on the head and sent off; no greediness nor crowding was allowed, and the pigs were far better behaved than the generality of their species.
We found the jungle near the houses quite impracticable, both from its tangled nature and the steepness of the ground it covered. A walk along the shore produced only a whimbrel (Numenius phœopus), which, although not bad for the pot, is too wide-spread a species to be of much value ornithologically.
Experiences next day on the opposite side of the bay were little more encouraging. Scrambling up a steep hill, we found a small stretch of flat land on the top, where ran one or two faint paths, along which the traps were placed. Birds were very scarce, and as it began to rain, we returned to the dinghy, and rowed round the bay, looking for kingfishers. The boat was paddled up all the creeks in the thick belt of mangroves that fringe the shores, but there was no sign of the bird we were after—the large stork-billed Pelargopsis—and we had to be content with whimbrels. The creeks, which in many cases are only just broad enough to row in, often wind for long distances among the mangroves, and on a dull day are depressing places, with but little life in them. In the bay itself we saw many beautiful branching corals of kinds far too delicate to grow in the more disturbed water of the sea; much of the growth which spreads all over the bottom was, however, killed by the mud and fresh water that comes down through the mangroves.
NANKAURI CANOE, WITH FESTIVAL DECORATIONS.
Our arrival in the harbour was coincident with the beginning of a feast, which was to continue for a week or so. Two new canoes, decked with most gorgeous banners, flags, and streamers flying from small poles,[40] were launched on the first day, and, to an accompaniment of singing, rowed across to the northern shore to obtain young coconuts for the coming festivity. These joyous occasions the natives call, in imitation of our English custom, "making Christmas"; and over the door of those houses where the gatherings are held they fasten a number of branches.[41] We entered one of the houses thus decorated. Outside were large heaps of green coconuts, and inside other refreshment in the shape of several big jars of toddy; the interior was prepared for dancing. Immense quantities of cotton print, of every pattern and colour imaginable, were hung from rattans crossing the upper portion of the roof to within about 7 feet from the floor; the upper part was a nearly solid mass of cotton. On a framework in the centre of the floor, covered with alternate strips of red and white cotton, so that it seemed to be made of barbers' poles, were suspended a large number of spoons, forks, and soup-ladles. Everything else in the house was pushed back against the walls in order that the floor might be clear, and as the place was rather dark, it was illuminated by a lamp made from half a coconut-shell, containing melted pigs' fat and a strip of rag. The spoons and forks, in which the natives invest nearly all they obtain by the sale of their coconuts, are purchased from the Burmese and Indian traders. For soup-ladles they give 20 rupees; table-spoons 10 rupees, and smaller sizes 5 rupees. They are of electro-plate and German metal, but the people apparently think them silver, and did not seem to believe us when we told them otherwise, so we did not press the point. Considering the large number they possess, the knowledge might be painful, and since they are destroyed at the owner's death, it perhaps does not matter much. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," and the traders ought to do very well at such prices.
The large public dances of the northern island are not held here, but two or three private houses are prepared for the occasion as above described.
The people of these islands employ in everyday life far more clothing than the Kar Nicobarese, and a great proportion of them wear some other garment—trousers or jacket—in addition to their national apparel. Formerly, they wore the white palm-leaf head-dress, but it was given up when imported garments became common.
A custom of partially exhuming the bodies of the dead exists here, and whenever celebrated is the occasion of a special feast (Koruâk). In the Northern Islands the entire remains are disinterred, carefully cleaned, wrapped up once more, and reburied; here, the skull and jawbone only are retained.
The local population greatly deprecates the method of their northern countrymen.
It would appear, by the way, that the present custom is no degradation of the past, for more than a century ago the head only was disinterred and cleansed.
KITCHEN AND DWELLING-HOUSE, WITH FESTIVAL TREE, NANKAURI.
"On the anniversary of the festival—if it can be so called—their houses are decorated with garlands of flowers, fruit, and branches of trees. The people of each village assemble, dressed in their best attire, at the principal house in the place, where they spend the day in a convivial manner. The men sitting apart from the women, smoke tobacco and intoxicate themselves, while the latter are nursing the children, and employed in preparation for the mournful business of the night. At a certain hour of the afternoon, announced by striking the goung (an instrument of brass somewhat like the gurry of Bengal—it sounds more hollow), the women set up the most dismal howls and lamentations, which they continue without intermission till about sunset, when the whole party gets up and walks in procession to the burying-ground. Arrived at the place, they form a circle round one of the graves, when a stake, planted exactly over the head of a corpse, is pulled up. The woman who is nearest of kin to the deceased steps out from the crowd, digs up the skull and draws it up in her hands. (The office is always performed by the women, whichever sex the skull belongs to. A man in a fantastic garb officiates as priest.) At sight of the bones her strength seems to fail her; she shrieks, she sobs, and tears of anguish abundantly fall on the mouldering object of her pious care. She cleans it from the earth, scrapes off the festering flesh, and laves it plentifully with the milk of fresh coconuts, supplied by the bystanders; after which, she rubs it over with an infusion of saffron, and wraps it carefully up in a piece of new cloth. It is then deposited in the earth, and covered up; the stake is replanted, and hung with the various trappings and implements belonging to the deceased. They proceed then to the other graves; and the whole night is spent in repetitions of these dismal and disgustful rites.
"On the morning following, the ceremony is concluded by an offering of many fat swine, when the sacrifice made to the dead affords an ample feast to the living: they besmear themselves with the blood of the slaughtered hogs; and some, more voracious than others, eat the flesh raw."[42]
A few hundred yards from the houses in the bay, and on the seaward side of the same point, is situated the larger village where the headman resides; the path connecting the two crosses the site of one of the old Moravian mission establishments, where the brick foundations of some of the buildings once standing there may yet be seen.[43]
This larger village[44] contains fifteen to twenty houses closely packed together, and fronted by a tall row of kanaia standing in the water. Bamboo posts, too, split at the upper end and spread out fanwise, are planted at intervals along the beach; they are put up yearly by every man in the village, to keep fever and devils (iwi) away; and several grotesque figures of crocodiles (yéo), placed in little shelters, raised on poles, prevent their living counterparts from attacking the villagers when they enter the water.
The houses are of two kinds, round and rectangular; the latter are used as kitchens and storerooms, but there is a fireplace in the others, where much of the cooking is done. The conical roofs are made of attaps of nipah palm, neatly fastened to a framework of thick rattan by lashings of cane, the sides and floor are generally of roughly-hewn boards; inside, about 3 feet from the wall, a circle of posts helps to support the roof, which, in some cases, is entirely lined with horizontal laths of wood. The apex is crowned outside by a high, carved finial. Access is obtained by means of a notched pole, and to permit the entrance of domestic animals, a tree trunk, split and hollowed out to form a trough, slopes gently up from the ground to door or window. Beneath the houses are platforms on which the natives keep their store of pandanus and coconuts, their spare pots and baskets, and peculiar bundles of wood. This latter is neatly cut into billets about 1 foot long, and packed into circular bundles, 2 or 3 feet in diameter, by means of a tight lashing of cane.[45]
One afternoon we paid a visit to Tanamara. He and his wife have no children, but have adopted a little girl from Chaura, whose parents are dead. This custom of adoption is, he says, not at all uncommon. Tanamara's father and mother live with him; the former, "England" by name, is an old, white-headed man, who is nearly eighty; he professes to know nothing about the piratical atrocities which formerly occurred in this group of islands, although many of them happened at a period sufficiently late in his life for him to have fully comprehended such events.
TANAMARA'S "KAREAU."
The interior and contents of the house were very similar to what we had already seen in Trinkat. Opposite the door stood the fireplace—a bed of clay on the floor—above which was a mantle-shelf or rack, where are kept pots, baskets, trays, etc. A grated floor formed a small chamber immediately under the roof, where baskets and odds-and-ends are stowed away. Several boxes, packed with the family possessions of cotton and spoons, stood against the walls, on which hung various charms—small figures (kareau), carved scrolls, tassels of palm leaf, and pigs' skulls—all for scaring away devils. Hanging in the centre was a grass string, with a few small coconuts attached: these are for the purpose of feeding the house, and are periodically renewed: the object so nourished does not seem possessed of much acumen, however, for small green nuts, which have been blown down or have fallen from disease, seem quite good enough to sustain it. The house also contained some almost life-sized human figures (odiau), carved from wood, painted and clothed. These were not at all badly shaped, and show an appreciation of anatomical detail unusual among uncivilised people. The shape of the Nicobarese head, and the peculiar angle at which the teeth are set, were well noticed: the swelling muscles, the toes and fingers, even the sharpness of the shin-bone in front of the leg, and the form of the knee-cap, were faithfully copied. They were all supplied with a piece of rancid pork hung from the neck or placed in the mouth.[46]
Several pictures (hentá) drawn on slabs of wood were placed against the walls. These originate from an attack of fever. They are drawn by the village artist by order of the doctor (menlúana), who tells him what he should make. The latter is paid in kind for his work. Of frequent occurrence are pigs, crocodiles and coconut trees, whilst almost always there appears a scene of men seated at a table and drinking rum from large glasses. If the patient make a good recovery, the picture is kept as a potent charm, since it has been successful in scaring away the spirits of illness; otherwise, it is thrown away. A bird (kaláng)[47] commonly made during fever will also produce recovery.
We could not persuade the people to part with any of these, neither would they sell one of the large figures. Tanamara has a life-sized statue, painted black, with a white face, and although he was offered in exchange a dress-suit and a white sun-helmet, which he much coveted, he would not part with his double: its price was far above rupees. I was, however, permitted to photograph both pictures and figure; although, while the latter was being moved from the house to the beach, he was in an agony of apprehension, for he believes that if any accident should happen to it, illness on his part would follow, while, had we broken it or taken it away, he himself would certainly die. The object of these figures is to keep devils from working harm to their owners. Some people have none, while others sometimes possess two or more.
"February 7.—The people are far too occupied with their feasting to take much notice of our presence: on shore I found them so busy and excited that the photographs I had hoped for could not be obtained. Every day four large canoes go across to the other side of the harbour for coconuts, of which very few grow about the village: all the vessels are gaily decorated, and the paddlers are in holiday attire—collars of split banana leaf (fūm), beads, new cottons, and red paint on their noses.
"Tanamara came on board to tell us that the dance, at which by arrangement we are to be spectators, will be ready to-morrow morning; but that, to give a proper dance, the performers require to be jolly, and to be jolly needs a bottle of rum, which under the circumstances it was our duty to supply. He only stopped to beg for a glass of spirits, and then returned to the amusements on shore. Laughter, cheers, and singing have been going on in the village all the evening."
NANKAURI MAN WITH DANCING COLLAR AND PAINTED NOSE.
"February 8.—About nine o'clock this morning, taking with us a supply of liquid—half water, half rum—we landed at the village, and were received with a cordiality which doubtless owed its warmth partly to the presence of the bottles. In the banqueting-house we found dancing still in progress, that, judging from the noise made, had lasted throughout the night. All the cottons had been taken down, but the stand of spoons still remained in the centre of the floor. Every one still on his legs was very hilarious; we were shown large jars which last evening were full of toddy. Lying about the sides of the floor people were sleeping, some from sheer weariness, some from intoxication. All were gaily dressed; bright cottons hung from the shoulders like a cloak, round the neck were strings of beads and collars of frilled banana-leaf, now faded; many wore ear-stretchers of red and white cotton made into rosettes, and the men were crowned with chaplets of twisted print: we saw several handsome belts, made of silver wire and rupees (almost the only use to which money is put), and some wore armlets of silver not unlike those brass-wire ornaments affected by Dyak women.
"In dancing, the people—men, women, and children—form a circle, or portion of a circle, round the spoons, and, with arms intertwined and hands on each others' shoulders, move slowly towards the right, with measured step, to the accompaniment of general chanting—to me it sounded like 'ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,' ad infinitum, only varied in tone and rhythm.[48] The regularity of the movement is broken at intervals by a step or two in the opposite direction, or a pause with a pirouette on one leg, and now and then a heavy stamp on the floor. One old woman, who danced most perseveringly, was so intoxicated, that, whenever her neighbours took away the support of their arms, she fell over, and was too helpless to rise unaided.
"Seated on boxes we watched the performance, and the doctor, presiding over the rum bottles, repeatedly filled a small glass, from which each imbibed, turn and turn about. At our feet squatted a number of half-drunken people, gabbling away in a mixture of Nicobarese, Malay, and English; not all so stupid, however, that some could not detect the water in the tipple.
"Tanamara, who was fairly clear-headed at first, received the finishing touch from the rum, and before we left embraced Abbott with fervent gratitude: 'You good man, I love you; you make us all nice and drunk. Oh, I feel so nice!'
"The dancing was very monotonous, and before long we were glad to get out to the open air: the hut was ventilated by a small doorway only, and the vitiated atmosphere in which people had been moving for the last twelve hours was by no means pleasant. Children and boys were present, but no young women; in fact, at all times we only caught sight of the latter as they bolted into the houses on our approach, and none were forthcoming for the camera."
"February 9.—Everything is quiet on shore to-day after the dissipation which left off yesterday. Tanamara came on board with a headache; he was sure it could be cured with rum, but got a heavy dose of Eno instead. We gave him a few ducks he was very anxious to possess. It is to be hoped there is a drake among them—a point that was somewhat doubtful—for then we shall have benefited the community to the extent at least of introducing a new domestic animal to the islands."
"February 10.—Gave Tanamara a watch this afternoon, to spur him to further efforts in collecting curiosities. His wife, whom he calls 'my Mary,'[49] desires to visit the schooner this evening; but although she is uninvited, and comes by her own wish, she has bargained for two fathoms of red cotton in payment for the honour done us.
GROUP OF DANCERS, NANKAURI HARBOUR.
"We met a man on shore who was for a time at the school formerly kept for natives at Port Blair. He lays claim to the name of William Brown, and speaks English very well; his education otherwise has resulted in giving him a contempt for the native superstitions, of which he speaks with sneers, and meanwhile has replaced them by no other tenets. The train of events that brings such a condition of things about seems somewhat injudicious. A knowledge—a small knowledge—of the 'three R's' is of very little use to a native who has sooner or later to return to his national mode of existence. His experience may unsettle him, and is no suitable training for his future life, while it must leave him at a disadvantage among his countrymen, who have been bred to the conditions under which their existence will be passed."
"February 11.—Tanamara came on board last evening with his brother-in-law (Hamól) and nephew (Térrok). He was half-drunk with toddy, and brought—it was quite a family party—his wife (Helpak) and mother (Mert). A canoe-load of dishes, spears, and charms, which accompanied them, we purchased with old clothes, wire, and rice. The headman is as great a beggar as the others, perhaps more so, by virtue of his position and his English. Our conversation was continually interrupted by demands for one thing or another as he remembered them: things for his father, mother, wife, each request insinuatingly prefaced by the words 'my friend.' 'My friend, you give me—; My friend, I want—.' But for this fault, he is a fairly favourable specimen of a Nicobarese, and is certainly more intelligent than the rank and file; but, like many that we met, he is somewhat spoilt by contact with more civilised conditions.
"We had on board a quantity of American cigarettes, packed in cardboard boxes, each containing a dozen, and a coloured picture of a young woman in an evening gown! These packets were very useful as small presents, or as an answer to a request for a smoke. 'Oh, my dear!' exclaimed Tanamara, as he lovingly gazed at the picture from his packet. But he soon became dissatisfied, for she was a blonde and he likes brunettes, while what he was most anxious to obtain was the portrait of a Malay woman.
"Our small supply of spirits coming to an end, Abbott manufactured a new kind of cocktail from the medical stores—tincture of cardamoms, essence of ginger, sugar, and water, with a few spoonsful of rum to give the mixture a bouquet. This fiery liquid was received with some suspicion at first; but when I told them it was the favourite tipple of the C.C. at Port Blair (may I be forgiven), Tanamara and his brother—it was too stiff for the others—drank it down, although the tears stood in their eyes."
Of the fauna, we obtained from day to day little of interest: the jungle was without paths, and too thick even to see much in. No rats were trapped, but one specimen was brought us in a bottle by a native, and this has proved to be Mus alexandrinus, totally unrecorded until now from the Andamans or Nicobars. Pigeons were common, but megapodes scarce, and the only one obtained was caught in a trap. The vicinity of the harbour, though a somewhat unproductive hunting-ground for the ornithologist, for those interested in the natives, is, like Kar Nicobar, a most satisfactory locality.
Nankauri is a heart-shaped island, with an area of 19 square miles, and a maximum height of 534 feet. The bed rock consists of serpentinous magnesian, which is exposed in places. It is covered by a plastic white or yellowish clay and clay marl, with intervening beds of quartz sandstone, formed, like the clay, by the disintegration of the plutonic rock. The clay beds are similar to those which cover most of the northern islands, and contain silica, alumina, magnesia, and iron, but usually no lime, except in the form of gypsum, found in crevices. Portions of the clay cliffs exposed to the sun are covered with a fine efflorescence of sulphate of magnesia (Epsom salts). Professor Ehrenberg found in 1850, on examining specimens sent him by Dr Rink (Galathea Expedition), that this formation is a polycistina clay similar to that of Barbadoes.
NANKAURI MAN WITH SILVER NECKLACE.
About one-third of the island is covered with grass: a belt of forest runs all round the coast, but in the interior is restricted to the valleys and more sheltered slopes. The most useful species are: Garcinias, Calophyllums, Myristica irya, which yields good timber; Sterculia campanulata and Terminalia procera, which grow to immense sizes. The Nicobar and many other palms occur in numbers, and a wild species of cinnamon is common, as also is Amomum fenzlii, the leaves of which are used for cigarette wrappings, and the fruit much eaten by the natives.
But little fruit is grown about the villages: limes, guavas, and soursops are commonest. In the way of supplies, coconuts, pigs, and a few fowls might be obtained from the natives, and beef by shooting the wild cattle. Water in the harbour is very bad, and scarce.[50]
By a comparison of the census returns (1886 and 1901), the population would seem to have been stationary for many years: it now consists of 224 individuals.
The central group of islands was once notorious for the frequent disasters occurring to vessels calling there. It was for long thought that the numerous total losses that occurred in the Bengal Sea were due to storms and cyclones; but at length the discovery was made, that, from the beginning of the century until the British occupation, the vicinity of Nankauri Harbour was the habitat of a band of pirates, who cut off and murdered the crews of many vessels calling to trade and supply themselves with water or provisions. The headquarters of the band appear to have been in Expedition Harbour, and from there, whenever a vessel anchored at the islands, they sallied out, and either getting on board under the guise of peaceful natives, took the crews by surprise with a sudden attack, or else cut up landing-parties, and then captured the weakened vessel.
In this way, always by treachery and never in open warfare, they succeeded in capturing ship after ship.
There is some ground for belief that, for a time, the piratical goings-on were carried out under the leadership of an Englishman named William Worthington. The dates given in the various accounts of him are contradictory; but it appears that, about 1808, Worthington deserted at Nankauri from the frigate Bucephalus, and that for some years subsequently the pirates were directed by a man who gave that name as his.
In 1814, the Ceres was boarded by an Englishman, who stated that he had been left behind by a man-of-war. After inspecting the vessel, he left, and next day, as the anchor was being hove up, he arrived at the head of about thirty canoes, and made a futile attack on the ship.
A short time after, the brig Hope was cut off. An Englishman, who had previously stated he was Worthington, deserter from the Bucephalus, murdered the captain and mate, and the natives despatched the crew, with the exception of two or three, who escaped in a boat and in some way arrived at Rangoon.
At length Worthington was either expelled from the harbour, or left with some home-going Bompokans; but be that as it may, a man of that name lived for some years on Teressa and Bompoka, where several captains met with, or received letters from, him. Their opinions of his character differed. He was last seen in December 1820, when he reported that a ship from Bengal had been cut off and massacred at Nankauri, with several others previously, by natives led by Kafirs. He stated that after he deserted at Nankauri, he was unable to leave until he had paid a ransom to the natives. His death took place the same year, and the natives with whom he lived afterwards gave him the best of characters: that "John," as they called him, had long dwelt quietly and amicably amongst them. His seems to have thus been a case of "devil turned monk," and his career amongst the natives akin to the records of the better-known "beach-combers" of the early days in the Pacific.[51]
In a paper contributed to the Journal of the Indian Archipelago, 1847, the missionary, Chopard, says that silver had a peculiar attraction for the natives, and was the chief article which induced them to butcher, by treachery always, crews of vessels calling at the harbour. He knew a Kamortan, thirty-five years of age, who recollected eight vessels which had been cut off there in that manner.
In 1833, a Cholia vessel was cut off in the false harbour of Nankauri (Expedition Harbour) and everyone murdered. In 1844, Captain Ignatius Ventura, from Moulmein, commanding the Mary, anchored on the north side of Teressa at two o'clock, and an hour later he and his crew were murdered. In the same year, Captain Law met the same fate on Kamorta. In 1845, a vessel, having taken in part of her cargo at Kachal, sailed to the false harbour at Nankauri to complete, and all hands were murdered.[52]
"While I was at Kar Nicobar," Captain Gardner writes in 1857,[53] "two vessels were cut off at Nankauri, the crews massacred, and the ships plundered and scuttled." In 1840, the Pilot, South Sea whaler, was cut off there, and the captain, mates, and twenty-five men murdered; the third mate, surgeon, and seven men escaped to sea in a boat.[54] In 1844, the cutter Emilia visited Nankauri, and her captain was murdered within an hour of landing, but the boat escaped.
Piracy in the Nicobars came to an end with the occupation of Nankauri Harbour by the Indian Government in 1869; but two years previous to that it had been necessary to send there a British punitive expedition, on account of the atrocities committed by the natives. A notification of the event was made by Captain N. B. Bedingfield, who commanded the expedition, in the first of the Port Registers entrusted to the Nankauri natives.
"TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.
"Whereas the natives of these islands have been guilty of several acts of piracy; the crews of no less than four vessels have been massacred; a white woman and two children have been kept prisoners for about two years and a half, and after being most cruelly treated, the poor woman, used for the very vilest purposes, was, with her children, first poisoned and afterwards knocked on the head: Her Majesty's ships Wasp and Satellite were sent to endeavour to liberate any captives that might still remain on the Islands, and to punish the natives for their crimes.
"Several towns implicated have been burnt, all the war canoes destroyed, and other punishments inflicted ..." etc., etc.
Nor was this the only case of the kind, for although most of the vessels disposed of were native, the total included not a few European. There is another instance on record, in which a European woman was taken ashore and so brutally abused by the band of pirates that she died next day.
It is believed that the origination of these practices cannot be traced to the natives, but is due to the settlement of a body of Malays, who attracted a number of the inhabitants to themselves, and then formed a gang to plunder all vessels calling at the harbour, consequent upon a successful massacre of the crew.
OBJECTS FROM NANKAURI HARBOUR.