THE ISLE OF PINES.
Some thirty miles to the south-east of New Caledonia, and in fact forming part of the same group, there is a small island, called by Captain Cook the Isle of Pines, in consequence of the number of araucarias with which its hills are covered. The strait between the Isle of Pines and New Caledonia proper is nearly all shoal water, caused by the numerous coral reefs.
In many respects the inhabitants of this island resemble those of New Caledonia. They are not, however, so dark, and their features are tolerably good. They are cannibals from choice, wrapping up the bodies of the dead in banana leaves, and then cooking them in ovens. Some years ago, they contrived to indulge their taste for human flesh at the expense of their neighbors.
About 1840, it was found that sandal wood grew on the island, and several vessels proceeded thither for the sake of procuring this valuable product. At first they did so with great risk, and lost many of their men from the onslaughts of the natives. Afterward, however, a Sydney merchant set up an establishment for the collecting and storing of sandal wood and bêches-de-mer, and since that time the natives have become quite peaceable.
In course of this transitional time between utter barbarism and commerce, they learned by painful experience the power of fire-arms. As soon as they became accustomed to trade, the first thing that they did was to procure a large stock of fire-arms and to go off with them to New Caledonia, where they landed, shot as many of the natives as they could, and brought their bodies home for consumption. It is true that a constant feud raged between the two islands, but the sudden acquisition of fire-arms gave the people of the Isle of Pines a terrible advantage over their hereditary foes, and enabled them almost to depopulate the south-eastern part of the island.
They care no more for dress than the New Caledonians, but are very fond of ornament, the men appropriating all the best decorations, and leaving the women to take what they can get. The men friz their hair out as much as possible, and wrap a thin scarf round it, or sometimes cut it short, leaving only a tuft on one side of the head. The women shave off the whole of the hair, thus depriving themselves of their natural ornament, and rendering themselves very unprepossessing to European eyes. The rough work is done by them, the men reserving to themselves the noble occupations of war, fishing, house building, and canoe making, the only real work which they do being yam planting, after the ground has been prepared by the women.
CHAPTER LXXXIX.
THE ANDAMAN AND NICOBAR ISLANDS.
POSITION OF THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS — ORIGIN OF THE NATIVES — THEIR ROVING HABITS AND LACK OF CLOTHING — THEIR HATRED OF STRANGERS — THE NATIVES AND THE STEAMER — APPEARANCE OF THE WOMEN — THE ENORMOUS BOW AND SKILL OF THE MINCOPIE ARCHERS — VARIOUS MODES OF FISHING — EXCELLENCE OF THEIR CANOES, AND MODE OF MAKING THEM — THE LONG PADDLES — THE SHIP’S CREW BEATEN BY THE MINCOPIE CANOE MEN — CANNIBALISM NOT PRACTISED IN THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS — INGENIOUS FIREPLACES AND METHOD OF COOKING — WANT OF ARCHITECTURAL SKILL — EDUCATION OF THE CHILDREN, AND THEIR GAMES — POWERS OF SWIMMING — MATRIMONIAL ARRANGEMENTS — DEATH AND BURIAL — THE NICOBAR ISLANDS — APPEARANCE AND COSTUME OF THE INHABITANTS — THE CROSS-BOW AND ITS ARROW — A PRIMITIVE HAMMOCK — TOMBS IN THE NICOBAR ISLANDS.
We will now pass to the westward, and travel gradually through the wonderful group of islands which extends almost from Asia to America, and which is known by the general title of Polynesia. One or two of them will have to be omitted for the present, so as not to break the continuity of races, but will be described before we pass upward through America, from Tierra del Fuego to the Esquimaux.
In the Bay of Bengal, and not much to the eastward of India, is seen a group of islands, named the Andamans. They are of considerable length, but very narrow, seldom exceeding twenty miles in breadth, and are arranged very much after the fashion of the New Zealand islands, though on a smaller scale. These islands exhibit a phenomenon almost unparalleled in the history of the human race.
They lie close to India, a country in which a high state of civilization has been reached many centuries ago. They are almost in the middle of the track which is traversed by multitudes of ships, and yet their inhabitants are sunk in the deepest depths of savage degradation. Even the regular visits made by the Chinese vessels to the Andaman coasts, for the purpose of procuring the trepang, have had not the least effect upon them; and they afford perhaps the most perfect example of savage life which the surface of the earth can show.
The origin of the Andamaners is a problem to anthropologists. They are small in stature, the men being on an average but little above five feet in height, and the women being still smaller. They are very dark, but have scarcely anything except their color in common with the negro. They have neither the huge projecting jaws and cavernous mouth of the true negro, nor his curiously elongated heel; and though they are so small as almost to merit the name of pigmies, they are perfectly well formed. The hair, when it is allowed to grow, is seen to be thick and bushy, and resembles that of the Papuans; and it is the opinion of many competent judges that the Andamaners are the aborigines of the Papuan race, who have never permitted contact with strangers, and have preserved their own individuality intact.
In habits they are absolutely savage, their arts being limited to the manufacture of canoes and weapons, architecture and agriculture being equally unknown. They possess one of the chief characteristics of savage life in their roving disposition, never remaining long in one spot, a stay of three or four days being considered a long visit to any place. They have no laws, no religion, and no tribal distinctions. Marriage, as we understand the word, is unknown to them; and there seems to be few restrictions of consanguinity, a mother and her daughter being sometimes the wives of the same husband.
Clothing is entirely unknown to them; and when captives have been taken, they have always found clothes to be an incumbrance to them, though they were pleased with gaudy handkerchiefs tied round their heads. The only covering which they care for is one which they share in common with many of the pachydermatous animals, and employ for the same purpose. It is nothing more than a layer of mud, with which the natives plaster themselves in the morning and evening, in order to defend themselves from the attacks of the mosquitoes, sandflies, and other insect plagues.
Until the last few years our knowledge of the Andamaners has been almost nil, in consequence of their hatred of strangers, and the determined opposition which they offer to any foreigners landing on their shores. The very presence of a boat or a ship seems to excite them to frenzy. In Captain Mouatt’s valuable account of these islands is an animated description of a scene which occurred off the coast.
The steamer, on rounding a point, came suddenly upon two groups of savages, who were at first paralyzed by fear at the sudden apparition of the unknown object, with its columns of white steam roaring from the escape-pipe, its smoke, and its plashing paddles. In a few moments they recovered from their surprise, and raised a simultaneous shout of defiance. Two boats’ crews were sent ashore, to the extreme anger of the Mincopies.
“A peculiar natural phenomenon rendered the scene still more striking and impressive as the interval between the two parties, the savage and the civilized, was gradually diminished by the onward motion of the boats. The spray as it rose in clouds from the breakers dashing on the shore, reflecting the rays of the declining sun, magnified considerably the slight figures of the natives, making massive and formidable giants of men who were in reality little more than sable dwarfs. As the cutters neared that part of the shore where they had stationed themselves, and they clearly perceived that we were making preparations to land, their excitement was such that they appeared as if they had suddenly become frantic.
“They seemed to lose that restraint and control which it is the pride of the savage to exhibit in time of danger, and jumped and yelled like so many demons let loose from the bottomless pit, or as if there had been a Bedlam in that locality, and they the most unmanageable of its frantic inmates. Their manner was that of men determined and formidable in the midst of all their excitement. They brandished their bows in our direction; they menaced us with their arrows, said by common report—so often a liar—to be poisoned; exhibiting by every possible contortion of savage pantomime their hostile determination. To use a common vulgar expression of some of the seamen, they seemed to have made up their minds to ‘chaw us all up.’...
“The spear which he flourished incessantly was terminated by a bright, flat, pointed head, which gleamed with flashes of light, as, circling rapidly in the air, it reflected the rays of the sun. Sometimes he would hold it aloft, poising it in his uplifted hand, as if with the intention of hurling it with unerring and deadly aim at the first who dared to approach the shore of his native island. At length, in a paroxysm of well-acted fury, he dashed boldly into the water, boiling and seething round him as it broke in great billows on the beach, and on the rocks by which it was defended, and, fixing an arrow in his bow, he shot it off in the direction of the steamer, as if that were the arch enemy that had provoked his bellicose fury.”
The second party of natives, who turned out to be females, were as frightened as their male friends were angry. After several failures in launching a canoe, they rushed in a body to the jungle and hid themselves from the strangers. They exhibited the usual characteristics of the people, a basket for fish doing duty for clothes, and a patch of red ochre on their heads taking the place of hair. So repulsive were they in their appearance, that the sailors declined to leave mirrors on the shore as presents for them, saying that such hideous creatures ought not to be allowed to look at their own features.
The weapons with which the Mincopie men threatened the strangers are really formidable, and before very long the exploring party learned to hold them in great respect. The bows are sometimes six feet long and enormously powerful,—so powerful in fact that the strongest sailors tried in vain to bend the weapons which the pigmy Mincopies handled with such skilful ease.
The shape of the bow is very peculiar. Instead of being nearly cylindrical, largest in the middle and tapering regularly to each end, it is nearly flat except at the handle, on either side of which it becomes very broad. In fact, a good idea of it may be taken from a flattened hour-glass, the channel in the middle being the handle.
The force and accuracy with which these tiny men can shoot are really wonderful. They very seldom fail to hit their mark at any reasonable distance, and can make tolerably sure of a man at sixty or seventy yards, so that the Mincopie bow is really a far better weapon than the old “Brown Bess” musket ever was. One arrow that was shot at a boat’s crew at a distance of sixty yards struck a hickory oar, and knocked off a piece of wood as large as a man’s hand.
These arrows are very neatly made. They are about three feet in length, and are made of a reed by way of shaft, to the end of which is fastened a piece of hard wood in order to give weight. Upon this tip is fixed the head, which is usually the barbed tail bone of the sting-ray, and sometimes, though not always, poisoned. Should this terrible weapon enter the body, it cannot be removed without a severe operation, the sharp brittle barbs being apt to snap off and remain in the wound if any force be used in extracting the arrow.
Their consummate skill in the use of the bow is obtained by constant practice from earliest infancy. As is the assagai to the Kaffir, the boomerang to the Australian, and the lasso to the Gaucho, so is the bow to the Andamaner. The first plaything that a Mincopie boy sees is a miniature bow made for him by his father, and, as he advances in age, bows of progressive strength are placed in his hands. Consequently, he is so familiarized with the weapon that, by the time he is of full age, the pigmy Andamaner draws with graceful ease a bow which seems made for a giant.
Numbers of the toy bows and arrows may be seen scattered about an encampment if the natives are forced to leave it in a hurry, and their various sizes show the ages of the children to whom they belonged. The education of the Mincopie archer is in fact almost precisely like that of the old English bowmen, who, from constant practice in the art, and being trained from childhood in the use of the bow, obtained such a mastery of the weapon as made them the terror of Europe.
Being such skilful archers, they trust almost entirely to the bow and arrow, caring little for any other weapon. Even the harpoon, with which they catch the larger fish, is shot from the powerful bow. It is, in fact, a very large arrow, with a moveable head. This head fits loosely into a hole at the end of the arrow, and is secured to the shaft by a thong. It is a very remarkable fact that the bow and harpoon arrow of the Mincopies are almost exactly like those which are used by the inhabitants of Vancouver’s Island. They are twice as large, but in shape almost identical, as will be seen when we come to the North of America.
When they use the harpoon, a long and elastic cord is attached to it, one end of which is retained by the archer. The cord is made from a fibre which has the useful property of hardening by being soaked in water. For killing the fish when held with the harpoon the Mincopies use smaller arrows, without barbs or movable heads.
The Mincopies are very expert fishermen, and use nets which are made from the same fibre that has been mentioned. For small fish they make the nets of rather thin but very tough string, but for turtle and large fish they make nets of cord as thick as a man’s finger. One side of the net is held to the bed of the sea by heavy stones laid on it, and the other is upheld by floats.
The women search for molluscs, a business which occupies a considerable part of their time. They always carry neat baskets, in which to put the results of their industry, and each woman has generally a small net fixed to a handle, like that which is used by butterfly collectors.
In nothing do the Andamaners show their superior skill more than in canoe making. Their bows and arrows are, as we have seen, good specimens of savage manufacture, but in the making and management of canoes they are simply unapproachable, even though their tools are of the rudest possible description.
Furnished merely with a simple adze made of a stone fixed into a handle, the Mincopie boat maker searches the forest for a suitable tree, and after a week or ten days succeeds in bringing it to the ground. The rest of the process is so well described by Captain Mouatt, that it must be given in his own words.
“The next operation is to round the trunk, a process which they perform with remarkable dexterity, it being almost impossible to conceive how, with the imperfect instruments at their command, they execute their work with so much skill and neatness. Practice, however, must render them, as well as others, perfect; and hence it is that in a short time the rough and shapeless trunk begins to assume form and proportions; and, when the process is finished, exhibits a finish and perfection that even a Chinese carpenter, by far the most handy and ingenious of human ‘chips,’ would regard with a feeling of envy, as a work of dexterity which it would be vain for him to attempt to imitate.
“As soon as the trunk has been rounded, they commence the operation of cutting and chipping at it externally, until eventually the outlines of the elegant canoe begin to appear from the shapeless mass of the knotted trunk, just as, by the skill of the statuary, the beautiful figure gradually assumes its fair proportions in the block of marble. The shape externally is generally finished with great care and elaboration before they proceed to hollow it internally, the next process to which they direct their attention. The interior is excavated in the same perfect and business-like manner, until the shell is no thicker than the side of a deal bonnet-box, although it still preserves that strength which would enable it to resist successfully the utmost force and violence of the waves, should it even be assailed by a storm—a thing not at all probable, as, unless carried out to sea by some accident, it is rare that the Andamaners venture far from the shore.
“The buoyancy of these boats, when they are well constructed and carefully finished, is remarkable. They float lightly on the top of the waves, and, unless they have received some injury, it is considered almost impossible to sink them. We sometimes made the attempt, but never succeeded. We fired at them repeatedly when at Port Mouatt—which may be regarded as a sort of Andaman Pembroke-yard, where a fleet of Mincopie men-of-war were lying in every stage of preparation—but they still floated with as great ease and buoyancy as ever. They would make excellent life-boats, such, we believe, as have never yet been constructed by any of our most experienced boat-builders.”
Near shore the boatmen paddle about with perfect ease in these fragile vessels, though an European can hardly proceed twenty yards without being upset. When they go further to sea they add a light outrigger to one side of the canoe, and then venture forty or fifty miles from land. They always, in such cases, take fire with them, which has the double advantage of attracting the fish at night, and of cooking them when taken. Sometimes a number of boats will remain all night at sea, and the effect of their fires and torches is very picturesque when seen from the land.
The outrigger is certainly a new invention. The earlier travellers, who were always minute enough in their accounts, did not mention the outrigger, and, as far as can be seen, the idea has been borrowed from some Cingalese canoe which had got into a current and been drifted toward the island.
The paddles are rather peculiar in their form, and, apparently, very ineffective, looking something like long spoons with flattened bowls, or, on a smaller scale, the “peels” with which bakers take bread out of their ovens. The women are the paddle makers, and the implements vary from three to four feet long. They are cut from a very hard wood, and the work of making them is necessarily laborious.
Imperfect as the canoe and paddles seem to be, they are in fact absolute marvels of efficiency. The tiny Mincopies, furnished with these simple paddles, and seated in a canoe cut by themselves out of a tree trunk, can beat with ease our best oarsmen. Captain Mouatt got up several races between the Mincopies and his own prize crew in their favorite boat. In point of fact there was never any race at all, the Andamaners having it all their own way, and winning as they liked. The powerful, sweeping stroke of the man-of-war’s crew was beautiful to see, but the little Mincopies shot through, or rather over, the water with such speed that the sailors were hopelessly beaten, although they strained themselves so much that they felt the results of their exertions for some time afterward.
Slight, and almost as active as monkeys, the Mincopies ascend the tallest trees with the like agility, applying the soles of their feet and the palms of their hands to the trunk, and literally running up them. When they reach the branches, they traverse them with as much ease and security as if they were on firm land. Indeed, their powers of tree climbing seem to be equal to those of the inhabitants of Dourga Strait, of whom an account will presently be given.
We now come to a question which has often been agitated, namely, the asserted cannibalism of the Andamaners.
It is a question that every observant reader would be sure to ask himself, as the Andamaners are just such a savage race as might be expected to feed habitually on human bodies. Yet, though we find the comparatively civilized New Zealander sharing with the savage New Caledonian the habit of eating human flesh, the Mincopie, who is infinitely below the New Zealander, and certainly not above the New Caledonian, is free from that revolting practice. He undoubtedly has been known to eat human flesh, but only when urged by extreme hunger to eat the flesh of man or to die; and in so doing he has but set an example which has been followed by members of the most civilized countries.
That they are fierce and cruel toward foreigners is true enough, and it is also true that the bodies of those whom they have killed have been found frightfully mutilated, the flesh being almost pounded from the bones by the blows which have been showered upon the senseless clay in the blind fury of the savage. But no attempt has been made to remove any part of the body, and it was evident that the victors had not even entertained the idea of eating it.
The food of the Andamaners is tolerably varied, and is prepared in a very simple and ingenious oven. A large tree is selected for this purpose, and fire is applied to it at the bottom, so that by degrees a large hole is burned in it, the charred wood being scraped away so as to form eventually a large hole. This is the Mincopie oven, and at the bottom a heap of ashes, about three feet in depth, is always left. The fire smoulders away gradually among the ashes, and never entirely goes out; so that whenever a native wishes to cook his pig, turtle, or fish, he has only to blow up the smouldering embers, and in a few moments he has fire sufficient for his purposes.
These oven-trees are very carefully preserved, the natives never cutting them down, and always managing to prevent them from being entirely burned through. In [illustration No. 2], on the 893d page, one of these trees is shown, with the fire burning in the hollow, and the natives sitting round it. The Mincopies always contrive to have the opening of the oven in such a direction that the rain cannot get into it and put out the fire.
Pigs have been mentioned as forming part of the Andamaners’ food. These pigs are small and black, with spare, hard bristles, that look like pieces of wire. They are wonderfully active, and, according to Captain Mouatt, “are the most curious and mischievous little animals in creation. They have a leer that makes them look like so many Mephistopheles, who have chosen to assume that peculiar form, in many respects a very appropriate one, for, if they are not so many little devils, they are certainly possessed by them.
“At the time of our visit to the Cinque Islands, we turned out a dozen of them, and, our unwonted appearance filling them with alarm, they ran off from us with the velocity of an Indian express train, squeaking like mad. We set off and had a regular hunt after them—a hunt that beats to chalks the most exciting scene of pig-sticking ever seen in Bengal. After discharging their rifles, some of the hunters would probably find the pigs between their legs, making them measure their length on the sand. The falls were made with considerable violence, though they were not dangerous, for they only excited our risible faculties; and as each one came down he was greeted with a loud and hearty burst of laughter, as a sort of congratulation to him in his misfortune.”
The architecture of the Andamaners is very primitive. Four posts are stuck in the ground in the form of a square, and the builder is quite indifferent as to their straightness. Two of them are much longer than the others, so that when they are connected by sticks, a sloping roof is formed. Palm leaves are then placed upon them, one lying over the other in tile fashion, so that they form a protection from perpendicularly falling rain. A number of these huts are generally erected in a circle, in some cleared space in the forest, which is sheltered by large trees, and within a convenient distance of water. One or two of these simple houses may be seen in the [illustration].
Primitive as are these huts, some attempt is made at ornamenting them, the decorations being characteristically the trophies of the chase. Skulls of pigs and turtles, bundles of fish-bones, and similar articles are painted with stripes of red ochre, and hung to the roofs off the huts. Ochre painting, indeed, seems to be the only idea that the Andamaners have of ornament, if perhaps we except a string which the dandies tie round the waist, having a piece of bone or other glittering article hanging from it.
This ochre is in great request among the Mincopies, the women being especially fond of it by way of a decoration of their heads. As has already been mentioned, they shave the head completely, using, instead of a razor, a piece of flint chipped very thin, and having a sharp edge. They are wonderfully adroit at making these primitive knives, which are exactly like those of the stone age. The hair having been scraped off, a tolerably thick plastering of red ochre is rubbed on the head, and the toilet of a Mincopie belle is complete.
Not only is the ochre used for external application, but it is administered internally. What is good for the outside, the Mincopie logically thinks will be equally good for the inside. So, when he feels ill, he makes a sort of bolus of red ochre and turtle oil, swallows it, and thinks that he has cured himself. Wounds are dressed by binding certain leaves upon them, and in many cases of internal pains, bruises, or swellings, scarification is freely used. Certain individuals enjoy a sort of reputation for success in the treatment of disease, and are much honored by the less skilful.
It has already been mentioned that marriage is nothing more than taking a female slave.
When a wife becomes a mother, the only treatment which she receives is, that after the birth of her child she is plentifully rubbed with the red ochre and turtle oil, and is expected to follow her usual occupations on the next day. The young child is soused with cold water, poured out of one of the great bamboo vessels which the Mincopies use, and is dried by rubbing with the hand. Like its parent, the child wears no clothing; but if the party should be on their travels, and rain begin to fall, the mother pulls a few leaves from the next tree, ties them together with a fibre of rattan, and fastens them on the body of the child. This is the only clothing which an Andamaner ever wears.
Children are never weaned, but continue to take their childish nourishment until the mother is absolutely incapable of affording it. Both parents redeem much of their savage nature by their affection for their children, the father being quite as loving a parent as the mother—a trait which is often absent among savage tribes. The children reciprocate the affection, so that, in spite of the absence of any definite home, there is a domestic character about the family which could scarcely have been expected from such a race.
It has been already mentioned that the boys amuse themselves chiefly with small bows and arrows, having these toys of a continually increasing size to suit their growth. The girls are fond of disporting themselves by the sea-shore, and building sand houses for the waves to knock down, precisely as is done by the civilized children of Europe and America. Their great amusement is to build an enclosure with walls of sand, and to sit in it as if it were a house of their own until the rising tide washes away the frail walls. Both sexes are fond of swimming, and as soon as they can walk the little black children are seen running into and out of the water, and, if they can pick some sheltered spot free from waves, they dive and swim like so many ducks. A Hindoo, named Pooteeah, who was taken prisoner by the Mincopies, and his life spared for some reason or other, states that they are such excellent swimmers that several of them will dive together among the rocks, search for fish in the crevices, and bring their struggling captives to shore. This statement was discredited by those to whom it was made, as were several other of his accounts. As, however, subsequent observations showed that he was right in many of the statements which were at first disbelieved, it is possible that he was right in this case also.
(1.) NEW CALEDONIANS DEFENDING THEIR COAST.
(See [page 884].)
(2.) ANDAMANERS COOKING A PIG.
(See [page 892].)
This man, by the way, was furnished with two wives, mother and daughter, and, as he was above the ordinary size, Captain Mouatt expresses some curiosity as to the appearance of the progeny. He made his escape from the island before the birth of a child that one of his wives was expecting, and, as the Mincopie mothers are remarkable for their affection toward their children, it is likely that the little half-caste was allowed to live, and that a new element may thus be introduced into the race.
They have more than once made use of their swimming powers in escaping from captivity. Several instances have been known where Andamaners have been kept prisoners on board ship, and have seemed tolerably reconciled to their lot. As soon, however, as the ship neared land, they contrived to escape for a moment from the eye of the sentry, slipped overboard, and swam to land. They always dived as soon as they struck the water, swam as far as they could without rising to the surface, and then, after taking a single respiration, dived again, and so swam the greater part of the distance under water. This mode of swimming was doubtless practised by them when trying to escape from the arrows of an unfriendly party.
In Captain Syme’s “Embassy to Ava” there is a curious account of two young Mincopie girls who had been decoyed on board the ship. They were treated very kindly, and soon learned that no harm would be done to them. “They suffered clothes to be put on, but took them off again as soon as opportunity offered, and threw them away as useless encumbrances. When their fears were over, they became cheerful, chattered with freedom, and were inexpressibly diverted at the sight of their own persons in a mirror.
“They were fond of singing, sometimes in a melancholy recitative, at others in a lively key; and often danced about the deck with great agility, slapping the lower part of their bodies with the back of their heels. Wine and spirituous liquors were disagreeable to them; no food seemed so palatable as fish, rice, and sugar. In a few weeks, having recovered strength and become fat, from the more than half-famished state in which they were brought on board, they began to think confinement irksome, and longed to regain their native freedom.
“In the middle of the night, when all but the watchman were asleep, they passed in silence into the Captain’s cabin, jumped out of the stern windows into the sea, and swam to an island half a mile distant, where it was in vain to pursue them, had there been any such intention; but the object was to retain them by kindness, and not by compulsion, an attempt that has failed on every trial. Hunger may (and these instances are rare) induce them to put themselves into the power of strangers; but the moment that their want is satisfied nothing short of coercion can prevent them from returning to a way of life more congenial to their savage nature.”
Like many other savage races, the Mincopies make a kind of festivity on each new moon; and as soon as the thin crescent appears they salute it after their odd fashion, and get up a dance. Their dances are rather grotesque, each performer jumping up and down, and kicking himself violently with the sole of his foot, so as to produce a smart slapping sound. This is the dance which is mentioned in the preceding account of the two captives.
When a Mincopie dies, he is buried in a very simple manner. No lamentations are made at the time; but the body is tied in a sitting position, with the head on the knees, much after the fashion employed among the Bechuanas, and described on page 300. It is then buried, and allowed to decay, when the remains are dug up, and the bones distributed among the relatives. The skull is the right of the widow, who ties it to a cord and hangs it round her neck, where it remains for the rest of her life. This outward observance is, however, all that is required of her, and is the only way in which she troubles herself to be faithful to the memory of her dead husband. It is rather strange that, though the Andamaners make no lamentations on the death of a relative, they do not altogether dispense with these expressions of sorrow, but postpone them to the exhumation and distribution of the relics, when each one who gets a bone howls over it for some time in honor of the dead.