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 shore.
After exploring the neighbourhood, we found a good patch of flat jungle on the east shore 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 Peṅ, as the Nicobarese said they themselves never went inland; but although we searched the locality thoroughly, we failed to obtain more pronounced 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.
In a deep rocky ravine (that in the wet season must be filled with running water), arched over with tall jungle trees, and containing beautiful tree ferns, whose waving heads rose above the edge, I shot our first full-plumaged specimen of the Nicobar fly-catcher. Though not of brilliant colouration—for the slightly-crested head is of steely blue-black hue, and the remaining plumage of a silky-white (saving the large feathers of the wings, which are delicately pencilled with black, and the quills and edges of the tail feathers, the two central being several inches long, which are marked with the same colour), with blue bill and feet—this bird is to me perhaps the most beautiful of all the Nicobar avifauna; and while there are many of far more gorgeous plumage, none can approach it in delicacy, and the quiet beauty of its colouring.
Tracks of pig were very numerous in the low ground, and we often met with herds of monkeys making their way through the jungle; no rats, however, were trapped in this place, although crabs were scarcer than usual.
Water we obtained on the east side of the basin, just within the sandbar, but we had some difficulty in discovering it. The skipper, while engaged in the search, reported having found a number of spiked stakes planted in the jungle, similar to the ranjows of the Dyaks.
An old man, named Barawang, arrived one day in a canoe. He spoke English fairly, and said he was headman for the west coast, producing a Port Register in support of his statement. He formerly lived at Pulo Pét, but fled thence with his family to Kondul to escape a raiding party of Shom Peṅ.
The waters of the bay swarmed with shoals of little fish, which were much preyed upon by the ikan parang,[76] a long, thin, sabre-shaped fish with a formidable set of teeth; it is often seen darting along above the surface of the water, which it just flicks with its tail. Of the small fry we caught immense quantities with a casting-net, and obtained larger varieties with the seine, by fixing it on stakes across the mouth of the creek at high water; by the time the tide had fallen, several fish had invariably become entangled in the meshes.