This really consists of two settlements—that nearest the bay, Pulo Rotan or Koé, and the other to the south, which at high tide is cut off from the mainland by a marshy channel—Pulo Bábi or Kanal. There are more houses, both round and square than appear from seawards, but several are uninhabited and falling to pieces. Graves, placed between the houses, were marked by peeled sticks and young saplings, on which a foot or so of the branches had been left.
The land on which the village stood was of very recent formation, consisting entirely of sand, coral blocks, and débris of the roughest kind.
It would seem that the Nicobars are not only an area of elevation (as shown in Kar Nicobar, Trinkat, etc.), but also one of growth, as appears to be the case in the islands where there is a central mountain mass with radiating arms and shore plains; in these the central high land was first elevated, and formed a core for the extension of land by the agency of fringing reefs where the surrounding sea-bottom has only a slight inclination.
Of this latter phenomenon Pulo Bábi appears to be an example, since, for some distance inland the shore is flat, and composed of coral sand and débris, with a substratum of fresh-looking coral rock. The bay is becoming choked with coral, and between living reef and shore are broad belts of slimy mud, a little lower than some of the coral heads beyond, where the reef, having reached low-water level, has stopped in its growth and died. Meanwhile it is extending outward on its own talus, and at the same time débris and sand are cast continually shoreward, and, with the help of smaller coralline growths, fill up the interstices of the shore coral until a solid bank is formed, which, by further aid from the waves of the sea, and from the land and its vegetation, is raised above high water and in time becomes dry land.
Such action depends on the tides, slope of the sea-bottom, and the relation of one part of the shore to another in regard to contour and position, but particularly on the currents, which in some places would accumulate material and in others remove it.
The crowns of the palm trees were frequented by flocks of the black and white nutmeg-pigeon (Carpophaga bicolor), an uncommon bird in such a situation. Of those we shot, several lodged in the trees and were fetched down by the natives, who climbed with the ankles joined by a belt or piece of rattan, and who, when lifting the feet, did not clasp the trunk with the arms as we should, but placing one round it, pressed against it with the other hand.
We found two Shom Peṅ youths in the village, who seemed to be in a state of easy servitude, and were used for such work as carrying nuts or fetching water.
There were between twenty and thirty men and boys dwelling here, and the skipper (with whom the people were more communicative than with us) said, only four women! Although, by going to Naukauri Harbour, said Puchree, they could obtain wives,—who, however, refused to leave their own homes,—he lamented the almost total impotence of himself and neighbours in the way of offspring. Asked if they ever married Shom Peṅ women, he said, "No, they didn't like them; they were dirty and didn't wash"; and when we suggested that he should catch (tangkap) a young one, and first train her for a year or two, and teach her manners—"Too much trouble."
"March 25.—We met Nyam and a companion at his house about six o'clock, and after a walk of half a mile reached the bank of a little river some 30 feet wide. Here lay a canoe, and paddles being produced we travelled up-stream, wading now and again over the shallows, until, having progressed a mile or so, we landed on the same bank at a spot where a second path commenced. This we followed for 2 miles in a northerly direction, crossing by the way the stream itself and a little tributary by bridges of sapling, and so arrived at the Shom Peṅ village.
"We had already seen two kinds of buildings amongst these people; here we met with a third.