Suppose, then, that the Samang and Andaman islander came down the trades, at a period too remote for even tradition to deal with it: suppose they occupied the Malay peninsula, no matter how long; and that at a much more recent period, they were pushed out of place,—the one returning to the Andaman Islands, the other to the mountains of the Quedah: suppose also that the party pushing them off were Malays,—who had themselves been drifted for hundreds of years down the trades from the far shores of America (for this is our “speculation”): suppose all these circumstances to have taken place, and you will be able to account for two facts that have for a long time puzzled the ethnologist. One is the presence of negroes on the islands of Andaman,—and the other of Malays in the south-eastern corner of Asia. We might bring forward many arguments to uphold the probability of these hypotheses, had we space and time. Both, however, compel us to return to the more particular subject of our sketch; and we shall do so after having made a remark, promised above, and which relates to the probability of the Andaman islander being a cannibal. This, then, would lie in the fact of his being a Papuan negro. And yet, again, it is only a seeming; for it might be shown that with the Papuan cannibalism is not a natural instinct. It is only where he has reached a high degree of civilisation, as in the case of the Feegee islander. Call the latter a monster if you will; but, as may be learnt from our account of him, he is anything but a savage, in the usual acceptation of the term. In fact, language has no epithet sufficiently vile to characterise such an anomalous animal as he.
I have endeavoured to clear the Andaman islander of the charge of this guilt; and, since appearances are so much against him, he ought to feel grateful. It is doubtful whether he would, should this fall into his hands, and he be able to read it. The portrait of his face without that stain upon it, he might regard as ugly enough; and that of his habits, which now follows, is not much more flattering.
His house is little better than the den of a wild beast; and far inferior in ingenuity of construction to those which beavers build. A few poles stuck in the ground are leant towards each other, and tied together at the top. Over these a wattle of reeds and rattan-leaves forms the roof; and on the floor a “shake-down” of withered leaves makes his bed, or, perhaps it should rather be called his “lair.” This, it will be perceived, is just the house built by Diggers, Bushmen, and Fuegians. There are no culinary utensils,—only a drinking-cup of the nautilus shell; but implements of war and the chase in plenty: for such are found even amongst the lowest of savages. They consist of bows, arrows, and a species of javelin or dart. The bows are very long, and made of the bamboo cane,—as are also the darts. The arrows are usually pointed with the tusks of the small wild hogs which inhabit the islands. These they occasionally capture in the chase, hanging up the skulls in their huts as trophies and ornaments. With strings of the hog’s teeth also they sometimes ornament their bodies; but they are not very vain in this respect. Sometimes pieces of iron are found among them,—nails flattened to form the blades of knives, or to make an edge for their adzes, the heads of which are of hard wood. These pieces of iron they have no doubt obtained from wrecked vessels, or in the occasional intercourse which they have had with the convict establishment; but there is no regular commerce with them,—in fact, no commerce whatever,—as even the Malay traders, that go everywhere, do not visit the Andamaners, from dread of their well-known Ishmaelitish character. Some of the communities, more forward in civilisation, possess articles of more ingenious construction,—such as baskets to hold fruits and shell-fish, well-made bows, and arrows with several heads, for shooting fish. The only other article they possess of their own manufacture, is a rude kind of canoe, hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, by means of fire and their poor adze. A bamboo raft, of still ruder structure, enables them to cross the narrow bays and creeks by which their coast is indented.
Their habitual dwelling-place is upon the shore. They rarely penetrate the thick forests of the interior, where there is nothing to tempt them: for the wild hog, to which they sometimes give chase, is found only along the coasts where the forest is thinner and more straggling, or among the mangrove-bushes,—on the fruits of which these animals feed. Strange to say, the forest, though luxuriant in species, affords but few trees that bear edible fruits. The cocoa-palm—abundant in all other parts of the East-Indian territories, and even upon the Cocos Islands, that lie a little north of the Andamans—does not grow upon these mountain islands. Since the savages know nothing of cultivation, of course their dependence upon a vegetable diet would be exceedingly precarious. A few fruits and roots are eaten by them. The pandanus, above mentioned, bears a fine cone-shaped fruit, often weighing between thirty and forty pounds; and this, under the name of mellori, or “Nicobar breadfruit,” forms part of their food. But it requires a process of cooking, which, being quite unknown to the Andamaners, must make it to them a “bitter fruit” even when roasted in the ashes of their fires, which is their mode of preparing it. They eat also the fruit of the mangrove, and of some other trees—but these are not obtainable at all seasons, or in such quantity as to afford them a subsistence. They depend principally upon fish, which they broil in a primitive manner over a gridiron of bamboos, sometimes not waiting till they are half done. They especially subsist upon shell-fish, several kinds abounding on their coasts, which they obtain among the rocks after the tide has gone out. To gather these is the work of the women, while the men employ themselves in fishing or in the chase of the wild hog. The species of shell-fish most common are the murex tribulus, trochus telescopium, cypraea caurica, and mussels. They are dexterous in capturing other fish with their darts, which they strike down upon the finny prey, either from their rafts, or by wading up to their knees in the water. They also take fish by torchlight,—that is, by kindling dry grass, the blaze of which attracts certain species into the shallow water, where the fishers stand in wait for them.
When the fishery fails them, and the oysters and muscles become scarce, they are often driven to sad extremities, and will then eat anything that will sustain life,—lizards, insects, worms,—perhaps even human flesh. They are not unfrequently in such straits; and instances are recorded, where they have been found lying upon the shore in the last stages of starvation.
An instance of this kind is related in connection with the convict settlement of 1793. A coasting-party one day discovered two Andamaners lying upon the beach. They were at first believed to be dead, but as it proved, they were only debilitated from hunger: being then in the very last stages of famine. They were an old man and a boy; and having been carried at once to the fort, every means that humanity could suggest was used to recover them. With the boy this result was accomplished; but the old man could not be restored: his strength was too far gone; and he died, shortly after being brought to the settlement.
Two women or young girls were also found far gone with hunger; so far, that a piece of fish held out was sufficient to allure them into the presence of a boat’s crew that had landed on the shore. They were taken on board the ship, and treated with the utmost humanity. In a short time they got rid of all fears of violence being offered them; but seemed, at the same time, to be sensible of modesty to a great degree. They had a small apartment allotted to them; and though they could hardly have had any real cause for apprehension, yet it was remarked that the two never went to sleep at the same time: one always kept watch while the other slept! When time made them more familiar with the good intentions towards them, they became exceedingly cheerful, chattered with freedom, and were amused above all things at the sight of their own persons in a mirror. They allowed clothes to be put on them; but took them off again, whenever they thought they were not watched, and threw them away as a useless encumbrance! They were fond of singing; sometimes in a melancholy recitative, and sometimes in a lively key; and they often gave exhibitions of dancing around the deck, in the fashion peculiar to the Andamans. They would not drink either wine or any spirituous liquor; but were immoderately fond of fish and sugar. They also ate rice when it was offered to them. They remained, or rather were retained, several weeks on board the ship; and had become so smooth and plump, under the liberal diet they indulged in, that they were scarce recognisable as the half-starved creatures that had been brought aboard so recently. It was evident, however, that they were not contented. Liberty, even with starvation allied to it, appeared sweeter to them than captivity in the midst of luxury and ease. The result proved that this sentiment was no stranger to them: for one night, when all but the watchman were asleep, they stole silently through the captain’s cabin, jumped out of the stern windows into the sea, and swam to an island full half a mile distant from the ship! It was thought idle to pursue them; but, indeed, there was no intention of doing so. The object was to retain them by kindness, and try what effect might thus be produced on their wild companions, when they should return to them. Strange to say, this mode of dealing with the Andaman islanders has been made repeatedly, and always with the same fruitless result. Whatever may have been the original cause that interrupted their intercourse with the rest of mankind, they seem determined that this intercourse shall never be renewed.
When plenty reigns among them, and there has been a good take of fish, they act like other starved wretches; and yield themselves up to feasting and gorging, till not a morsel remains. At such times they give way to excessive mirth,—dancing for hours together, and chattering all the while like as many apes.
They are extremely fond of “tripping it on the light fantastic toe;” and their dance is peculiar. It is carried on by the dancers forming a ring, and leaping about, each at intervals saluting his own posteriors with a slap from his foot,—a feat which both the men and women perform with great dexterity. Not unfrequently this mode of salutation is passed from one to the other, around the the whole ring,—causing unbounded merriment among the spectators.
Their fashion of dress is, perhaps, the most peculiar of all known costumes. As to clothing, they care nothing about it,—the females only wearing a sort of narrow fringe around the waist,—not from motives of modesty, but simply as an ornament; and in this scant garment we have a resemblance to the liku of the Feegeeans. It can hardly be said, however, that either men or women go entirely naked; for each morning, after rising from his couch of leaves, the Andamaner plasters the whole of his body with a thick coat of mud, which he wears throughout the day. Wherever this cracks from getting dry by the sun, the place is patched or mended up with a fresh layer. The black mop upon his head is not permitted to wear its natural hue; but, as already mentioned, is coloured by means of a red ochreous earth, which is found in plenty upon the islands. This reddening of his poll is the only attempt which the Andamaner makes at personal adornment; for his livery of mud is assumed for a purpose of utility,—to protect his body from the numerous mosquitoes, and other biting insects, whose myriads infest the lowland coast upon which he dwells.