Chapter Sixteen.
The Andamaners, or Mud-Bedaubers.
On the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal lies a cluster, or archipelago, of islands known as the “Andamans.” They form a long string running nearly northward and southward; and with the Nicobar group, still further to the south, they appear like a series of stepping-stones connecting Cape Negrais, in the Burmese country, with the island of Sumatra. Independent of the Nicobar Islands, the Andamans themselves have an extent of several hundred miles in length; while their breadth is nowhere over about twenty miles. Until of late the greater portion of the group was supposed to form only one island,—known as the “Great Andaman;” but, in the year 1792, this was discovered to have a channel across it that divided it into two distinct parts.
The discovery of this channel was accidental; and the accident was attended with melancholy consequences. A vessel from Madras had entered between the Great Andaman, and the opposite coast of Burmah. This vessel was laden with provisions, intended for the supply of Port Cornwallis,—a convict settlement, which the British had formed the preceding year on the eastern side of the island. The master of the vessel, not knowing the position of Port Cornwallis, sent a boat to explore an opening which he saw in the land,—fancying that it might be the entrance to the harbour. It was not this, however; but the mouth of the channel above mentioned. The crew of the boat consisted of two Europeans and six Lascars. It was late in the afternoon when they stood into the entrance; and, as it soon fell dark upon them, they lost their way, and found themselves carried along by a rapid current that set towards the Bay of Bengal. The north-east monsoon was blowing at the time with great violence; and this, together with the rapid current, soon carried the boat through the channel; and, in spite of their efforts, they were driven out into the Indian Ocean, far beyond sight of land! Here for eighteen days the unfortunate crew were buffeted about; until they were picked up by a French ship, almost under the equinoctial line, many hundreds of miles from the channel they had thus involuntarily discovered! The sad part of the story remains to be told. When relieved by the French vessel, the two Europeans and three of the Lascars were still living; the other three Lascars had disappeared. Shocking to relate, they had been killed and eaten by their companions!
The convict settlement above mentioned was carried on only for a few years, and then abandoned,—in consequence of the unhealthiness of the climate, by which the Sepoy guards of the establishment perished in great numbers.
Notwithstanding this, the Andaman Islands present a very attractive aspect. A ridge of mountains runs nearly throughout their whole extent, rising in some places to a height of between two and three thousand feet. These mountains are covered to their tops by dense forests, that might be called primeval,—since no trace of clearing or cultivation is to be found on the whole surface of the islands; nor has any ever existed within the memory of man, excepting that of the convict settlement referred to. Some of the forest trees are of great size and height; and numerous species are intermixed. Mangroves line the shores; and prickly ferns and wild rattans form an impenetrable brake on the sides of the hills; bamboos are also common, and the “gambier” or “cutch” tree (Agathis), from which is extracted the Terra Japonica of commerce. There are others that yield dyes, and a curious species of screw-pine (pandanus),—known as the “Nicobar breadfruit.”
Notwithstanding their favourable situation, the zoology of these islands is extremely limited in species. The only quadrupeds known to exist upon them are wild hogs, dogs, and rats; and a variety of the monkey tribe inhabits the forests of the interior. The land-birds are few,—consisting of pigeons, doves, small parrots, and the Indian crow; while hawks are seen occasionally hovering over the trees; and a species of humming-bird flies about at night, uttering a soft cry that resembles the cooing of doves. There are owls of several species; and the cliffs that front the coast are frequented by a singular swallow,—the hirundo esculenta, whose nests are eaten by the wealthy mandarins of China. Along the shores there are gulls, kingfishers, and other aquatic birds. A large lizard of the guana species is common, with several others; and a green snake, of the most venomous description, renders it dangerous to penetrate the jungle thickets that cover the whole surface of the country.
In all these matters there is not much that is remarkable,—if we accept the extreme paucity of the zoology; and this is really a peculiarity,—considering that the Andaman Islands lie within less than eighty leagues of the Burman territory, a country so rich in mammalia; considering, too, that they are covered with immense forests, almost impenetrable to human beings, on account of their thick intertwining of underwood and parasitical plants,—the very home, one would suppose for wild beasts of many kinds! And withal we find only three species of quadrupeds, and these small ones, thinly distributed along the skirts of the forest. In truth, the Andaman Islands and their fauna have long been a puzzle to the zoölogist.