Chapter VI: The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: Myths and Legends (1)

In the last chapter I tried to explain, by reference to psychological principles, the more important ritual and ceremonial observances of the Andamanese; in the present chapter I shall deal in a similar manner with the legends recorded in Chapter IV. That is to say, I propose to explain, not how the legends arose, but what they mean, what part they play at the present time in the mental life of the Andaman Islander. Customs that seem at first sight meaningless or ridiculous have been shown to fulfil most important functions in the social economy, and similarly I hope to prove that the tales that might seem merely the products of a somewhat childish fancy are very far indeed from being merely fanciful and are the means by which the Andamanese express and systematise their fundamental notions of life and nature and the sentiments attaching to those notions.

I propose to analyse a few of the more important legends, and will begin with the Akar-Bale story of the origin of night and day [184]. The explanation of this story depends on the connection of day and night with the cicada. This species of cicada, of which I do not know the scientific name, always makes a noise (“sings” as the natives say) during the short interval of twilight between sunset and darkness and between dawn and sunrise. It is possible that individual insects of the species make a noise at other times of the day and night, but I do not remember to have heard them, and it is only at the beginning and end of the day that they are all to be heard singing together. The song of the cicada, as day gives place to night and as night changes to day is one of the most familiar of all natural phenomena to the Andamanese. Another fact that is made use of in the legend is that if one of these insects be crushed as was the cicada of the story, or even if it be taken up in the hand, it will utter its shrill and plaintive note, not unlike the cry of a human being in pain. Finally, fully to understand the tale, it is necessary to remember that in all the tribes of the Great Andaman Division there is a prohibition against killing the cicada. The meaning of this prohibition will have to be discussed in connection with the legend.

The facts stated above enable us to understand what may be called the skeleton of the legend. One of the ancestors killed a cicada (a forbidden act), the cicada uttered its cry (as it does when hurt), and as a result, darkness covered the world (as it always does when the cicada sings in the evening). Leaving aside, for the present, the rest of the story, we may try to make clear to ourselves just what this part of it expresses. The explanation that I propose is to the effect that the legend is simply an expression or a statement of the “social value” of the phenomenon of the alternation of day and night. By the social value of anything I mean, as explained in the last chapter, the way in which that thing affects the life of the society (either beneficially or adversely) and therefore the way in which it affects the social sentiments of the individuals who compose the society. There is no need to discuss at length and in all its bearings, the way in which the alternation of day and night affects the social life of the Andamanese. The one outstanding feature of first importance is that the day is the time of social activity whereas the night is a period when the society is, as a rule, not active. It was shown in the last chapter that one of the most important elements in the mental complex revealed by a study of the ceremonial is the recognition of the fact that it is on the activity of the society that the individual depends for his security and well-being. So long as he can feel that he is an active member of an active community the individual feels that he has for his support (morally and physically) a great force on which he can rely. If, for any reason, he is temporarily cut off from the society and from participation in its life, he is in a position of insecurity, and believes himself to be in danger from the powers of the world of spirits. It is an inevitable result of this that the daytime, when the society is active, should be felt to be a period of comparative security, while the night, when all social activity ceases, should be felt to be a period of comparative insecurity. That the day and night are so regarded is shown in the belief of the natives that the spirits are more to be dreaded during the night than during the day.

The Andaman Islander, like many other savages, is afraid of the dark. It might perhaps be thought that this fear is immediate and instinctive, a result of the physiology of the human nervous system, but that, I think, would be a false assumption. Many infants would seem not to be at first afraid of darkness, but to learn to fear it, as they learn to fear many other things. It is not possible here to enter into a discussion of the matter, but I would hold that in the Andaman Islanders and probably in other savages, the fear of darkness, of night, is a secondary or induced feeling, not by any means instinctive, and is in large part due to the social sentiments, to the fact that at night the social life ceases. The savage feels, and rightly so, that for everything he has and is, for the safety and well-being of his body and the comfort of his soul, he depends on the communal life in which his own life is merged. When, at the close of day, the social life ceases, he feels, should anything occur to direct his attention to his own condition, less secure than when the social life is proceeding actively around him [185].

The interpretation that I would offer of the Akar-Bale legend is that it is an expression of these sentiments relating to the night, an expression that takes advantage of the connection between the song of the cicada and the alternation of night and day. One feature of the manner of expression will be explained later in the chapter, namely that it takes the form of a story relating to a mythical period of the past. For the present the necessity of this particular form must be accepted as a postulate. Granting this it remains only to show that the legend does express the social value of night as defined above.

The fear of night, or rather, since that fear is rarely more than potential, the feeling that night is a time of insecurity, is part of the general attitude of fear or respect towards the forces of nature that are believed to be possible sources of danger to the society. Now it has been shown that this particular attitude to nature finds expression in ritual prohibitions of various kinds. For instance, the Andaman Islander translates his feeling of the social value of food substances into the belief that such things must be treated with ritual precautions. Applying this to the case before us, we must first recognize that to the Andaman Islander the alternation of day and night and the singing of the cicada are not separate phenomena but are two parts or aspects of one and the same recurring event. Now, the night and the day are things that cannot be handled, i.e., cannot be immediately subject to the actions of human beings, while the cicada can be handled. Hence it is to the cicada that the need of precaution is referred. Any interference with the cicada is forbidden, and this prohibition serves as a mark or expression of the social value of that alternation of night and day with which the cicada is so intimately associated [186].

The legend of the Akar-Bale tribe is simply an elaboration of this theme. In the beginning there was no night, no darkness. Social life was continuous and was not subject to periods of diminished intensity. Then one of the ancestors (apparently in a fit of temper owing to his lack of success in fishing) crushed a cicada, and the cry of the insect brought darkness upon the world. The darkness, with its inhibition of activity, is clearly regarded as an evil, i.e., as a manifestation of force hostile to the society, and this accords with the definition of the social value of night given above, where it was shown that this value is negative, that night is a source of social dysphoria.

This interpretation is confirmed by the statements about the night made in the North Andaman (where this legend does not seem to exist), such as that the night is made by the spirits (Lau) who draw a mat or cloth across the sky. When we remember that the spirits are the embodiment of the forces hostile to the society we see how this statement expresses the feeling that night is the time when such hostile forces are in the ascendant.

The Akar-Bale story, besides giving an account of the origin of night, relates the invention of singing and dancing. There is no specific reference to dancing in the story as recorded from my Akar-Bale informant. The reference is found, however, in the version recorded by Mr Man [187] and it is implicit even in the Akar-Bale version. Dancing is always accompanied by a song, and every song is composed with the express intention of being sung at a dance. Thus, for the Andamanese, singing and dancing are merely two aspects of one and the same activity.

Dancing, except on a few special ceremonial occasions, always takes place at night. Night, as we have seen, is a source of social dysphoria. It prevents the pursuit of the common social activities, such as hunting or making canoes or weapons. The condition produced by darkness can be neutralised by means of singing and dancing, the dance being a condition of intense social euphoria, in which social activity is at its maximum, and all the social sentiments are pleasurably and intensely excited.

This belief that dancing and singing are means by which the evil influence of darkness can be overcome is shown in the custom observed when a corpse remains in a camp all night, of sitting round it and singing, in order (so the natives say) to keep away the spirits that have caused the death. They do not dance, because the pleasurable excitement of the more intense activity would be incompatible with the condition naturally resulting from a death. This custom affords clear evidence that singing, and in a yet higher degree the combined activity of singing and dancing, possess magical efficacy against the dangers prevalent at night.

This relation between the (negative) social value of night and the (positive) social value of dancing and singing is simply and clearly expressed in the legend. It was the “singing” of the cicada that produced the darkness. The ancestors, finding themselves overwhelmed with darkness, set to work to remedy this evil by singing (and, it is to be presumed, by dancing to the song). One after another they sang a song, just as at a dance one man after another sings until he is tired. Finally, after the dance had gone on for a number of hours, Ko̱ŋoro took his turn at singing and the night came to an end and day appeared. So effectual was the means adopted of neutralising the evils of darkness that it finally resulted in the return of the daylight in which ordinary social life is possible.

The reference to resin in the legend can be easily understood. The Andamanese use resin to provide the light by which they dance, as well as for torches for fishing on dark nights. It is their only artificial light, and without resin a dance would be a very poor affair. Thus the social value of resin is that it affords a means of neutralising to a certain extent the effects of darkness.

These are, I think, all the essential elements of the story. One of the ancestors, under the influence of an anti-social passion, killed a cicada, which uttered its cry, and thereupon the world was covered with darkness. The ancestors then made torches of resin which enabled them to neutralise the darkness to some extent. They then invented dancing and singing and after they had continued for a number of hours the light came back. Since that time day and night regularly alternate with one another, and the cicada sings at each period of change. Men have learnt how to use resin for artificial light, and how to remedy the effects of darkness by dancing and singing.

The legend is thus simply the expression in a particular form of the relation between the society and a certain natural phenomenon in terms of what have been called social values. We find expressed the social values of night and of resin and dancing. It may be noted that the legend also gives a special social value to the ancestors, different from and greater than that of men or women at the present day. The ancestors of the Andamanese were able to do many things that men cannot do now; they were able to affect the processes of nature in a way that is no longer possible. This notion of the social value of the ancestors, of the past, will be shown to be one of the most important elements in the legends, it being this that is responsible for the general form of the stories. The consideration of this subject, however, must be postponed.

There are still a number of points of the legend that have not been considered. It is not easy to account for the inclusion in this story of the discovery of the yam. It is possible that there is some ground of association between the yam and the cicada, but I do not certainly know of any such. There is a legend recorded by Mr Man from the Aka-Bea tribe, and given above [188], in which an account is given of the lucky discovery of the first yam by the chance shooting of an arrow. It is therefore quite likely that the yam story first existed quite independently, and that it has become incorporated in the legend of the origin of night on account of the fact that the incident of the shooting of an arrow was found in both of them.

There is one reason for the inclusion of the yam incident that it is worth while to note. By its means it is told how Da Teŋat discovered a new object of each of the three kinds—animal, vegetable, and mineral. The new animal was the cicada, the new vegetable was the yam, and the new mineral was the resin, which, as the story shows, the natives classify as a “stone,” although they know its vegetable origin. The story is thus rounded off and given an air of completeness and symmetry.

The incident of the shooting of the three arrows is of some interest as giving us an idea of how the Andamanese think of chance or luck. Arrows, it must be remembered, are regarded as being possessed of magical power. Further, the ancestors themselves possessed powers that do not belong to living men, as is shown repeatedly in the legends. The ancestor shoots an arrow, and, by reason of his power and that of the arrow, it strikes an important object and leads him to a discovery. The mere striking of the object by the arrow seems to give him a certain degree of power over the object, whereby he forces it to reveal its name. (We have already seen, by a reference to this very story, that there is an important connection between the name of an object and its social value [189].) Thus, in common with other primitive peoples, the Andaman Islanders regard what we call luck or chance as due to the action of the magical powers possessed by objects and by human beings.

There is one point that is not very plain in the Akar-Bale version, but I think we must take it that Da Teŋat was disgusted at his lack of success in fishing. His irritation was not diminished but rather increased by the fact that he did succeed in procuring one small and worthless fish. His shooting of the arrows must be regarded, I think, as the result of his anger. He might be supposed to address his arrows as follows: “You have not succeeded in hitting any fish at which I aimed you; let me see if you can hit anything on your own account, when I take no aim.” In this way he was led to the discovery of the yam, the resin and the cicada, for though it is not explicit, it is evident that it was the third arrow that led him to the cicada. His irritation was not yet appeased however, and he crushed the cicada, thus bringing darkness over the world. We must infer that he was aware of what he was doing, for as soon as he had discovered the yam and the resin he learnt their names and thereby learnt all there was to know about them and their properties, and we must suppose that he similarly learnt the name of the cicada, and that to injure it would cause darkness. In the Aka-Bea legend recorded by Mr Man it is expressly stated that the ancestors who performed the actions that led to the first darkness did so because they were annoyed by the continuous heat of the sun [190].

Now we have here a very important feature of the legend which it will not do to overlook. We shall find that it is a principle of the Andaman legends that evil results follow from evil actions. Night, which, by reason of its negative social value, is regarded as an evil, is shown to be the result of the misbehaviour of one of the ancestors in giving way to anti-social feelings of anger or annoyance. It is a case of like producing like. When an individual gives way to such feelings as anger he becomes a source of danger to the society, or at any rate a source of social dysphoria by disturbing the harmony of the community. Thus, in the legend, it was the wickedness of the ancestor in giving way to his feeling of irritation that led to the social disaster. Inversely, it was through the combined effort of the ancestors joining in a harmonious action (singing and dancing) that the day was brought back.

The events of the legend are supposed to have taken place at a spot named Golugma. I only visited this spot once and did not take particular note of it, nor have I information about the position it occupied in the social life of that part of the island in former times. We do know, however, from the name Golugma Bud, that at one time it was the site of a communal hut and was therefore an important camping place. It may have been a place at which dance-meetings were frequently held, and this would be a sufficient reason for its selection as the legendary site of the first dance.

One of the minor motives of the Akar-Bale version of this story is the identity of the ancestor who appears as the chief actor. I regret to say that I have never found the exact meaning of the word teŋat. Though I asked the natives to bring me a specimen they did not do so. It is probably either a species of spider or of ant. However, even if I had succeeded in identifying the teŋat, it is possible that I should not have discovered the reason why this particular creature was selected as the hero of the story. This can be shown by considering another of the incidents of the story. All the ancestors who sang and tried to bring back the day failed except the ko̱ŋoro. This is a species of small red ant. Whenever I heard this story told or referred to, this particular incident (the successful singing of ko̱ŋoro) caused great amusement amongst the listeners. It was obvious that it was a good joke. Yet in spite of my endeavours on more than one occasion I was unable to see what the joke was.

In the A-Pučikwar version of the same legend [191] it was Pe̱tie, the monitor lizard, who crushed the cicada and brought darkness. This is to be explained not on the basis of any particular characteristic of the lizard, but as being due to the position that this animal occupies in the A-Pučikwar mythology in general as the first ancestor of the Andamanese. As the first progenitor he is made responsible for the origin of all sorts of things. The story of the origin of night must have a chief actor, and in the absence of any important ground for selecting any other of the ancestors the A-Pučikwar story-teller falls back on the monitor lizard.

In the above analysis I have drawn a distinction between what may be called major and minor motives of the story. The validity of the interpretation of the legends offered in this chapter depends on the validity of this distinction, and it is therefore important to provide a method by which we can separate major from minor motives. This can only be done when there are several versions of the same legend. Major motives may be defined as those which appear in all the versions of one legend, while minor motives are those which may vary from one version to another without producing any fundamental change in the legend itself. Thus, by a comparison of the Akar-Bale and the A-Pučikwar versions it can be shown that the identity of the chief actor is a minor and not a major motive.

If we compare the Akar-Bale legend with the Aka-Bea version recorded by Mr Man we see that they have in common (1) the explanation of the origin of night as due to the breaking of a rule, (2) the tracing back of the trouble to the anti-social passion of anger on the part of the actor or actors, (3) the account of the origin of dancing and singing as a means of neutralising the effects of darkness. All the other elements of the story are different in the two versions. In the Aka-Bea story it is the killing of a grub (gurug) that brings on the night, which is itself called gurug. What the meaning of this may be I cannot say. I did not hear this version of the story, and was not able to make any enquiries concerning it. All that it is necessary to note is that both the legends express the social value of night, and they both express it in very much the same way, the difference being that the Akar-Bale version makes use of the connection between night and day and the cicada, while the Aka-Bea story makes a similar use of some connection (not yet explained) between the night and a grub.

Thus the comparison of different versions confirms the interpretation here given. The legend expresses the negative social value of night as a period when social activity is diminished and the power of protection of the society therefore lessened. It does so by telling how the night first arose as the result of disobedience to a ritual prohibition, i.e., of meddling with the forces of nature. It traces the original cause yet further back to the anger of one of the ancestors, anger being itself a source of social disturbance. It passes on to express the social value of the dance, with its accompanying song, and exhibits the relation, within the system of social values, of dancing and darkness. Thus, although the manner of expression may differ, yet what is expressed is the same in both versions, and we are therefore justified in regarding this as the essential content of them.

An exactly parallel explanation can be given of the Andaman notions relating to the moon. The social value of moonlight is due to the fact that it enables the natives to fish and catch turtle and dugong by night. A clear moonlight night affords the best opportunity for harpooning dugong. During the second quarter the light of the moon steadily increases, and the period of moonlight falls in the first part of the night. After the change to the third quarter the light steadily diminishes, and moreover there is a gradually increasing period of complete darkness at the beginning of the night. The natives do not care to get up in the middle of the night to go fishing or hunting turtle. Therefore the second quarter is the time when they undertake such expeditions, and after the change to the third quarter they abandon them largely or entirely, and if they do go out they have to depend on torches. Therefore we may say that during the second quarter the moon gives valuable help to the natives, but during the third quarter withdraws that help.

At the beginning of the third quarter the moon rises in the evening with a ruddy hue. The natives explain this red and swollen appearance by saying that the moon is angry. When a man does something that hurts or damages another it is generally (in Andamanese life) because he is angry. So to say that the moon is angry is equivalent to saying that he is damaging or hurting someone, as he is indeed damaging the society by withdrawing the light by which for the past week or so they have been able to capture fish and turtle. The phenomena of the change of the moon in so far as they affect the social life are represented as if they were the actions of a human being. We may describe this briefly by saying that the moon is personified, using that term in a special sense to be defined more exactly later. Amongst the Andamanese, as amongst ourselves, anger is associated with heat, and this explains why the red glow of the moon when he rises during the first few nights of the third quarter is regarded as the visible sign of his anger.

Even the moon, however, is not to be expected to be angry without a cause. The natives say that the anger is due to some bright light having been visible at the time the moon rises. The personification is thus further elaborated. The moon gives the light by which fishing and turtle hunting at night are possible. This light has a positive social value, and its withdrawal is an evil. They therefore regard the moon as jealous, so jealous that if anyone makes use of an artificial light, as of a fire or torch or burning resin, the moon immediately is consumed with anger and withdraws the light that has been of so much use and has not been sufficiently appreciated. This belief is a means by which the value of the moonlight is recognized. Thus the beliefs about the moon can be interpreted in exactly the same way as the legend about night; both express, in accordance with the same psychological laws, the social values of natural phenomena.

I will next consider not a single legend but a number of different stories, running through all of which we can find a single major motive. I have recorded [192] three legends which relate, with some differences of detail, how in the beginning the ancestors had no fire, how fire was introduced by one of them, and how many of them, being burnt or frightened, were turned into animals of different kinds. In one version [193] the sea-eagle came into the camp of the ancestors and threw fire amongst them; whereby many of them being frightened were turned into animals. Another version is very similar, the chief actor, however, being the prawn [194]. In an Akar-Bale version Dim-do̱ri, now a fish, obtained the fire and burnt some of the ancestors with it so that they became fishes [195].

This legend is a widespread one, being found both in the north and in the south of the islands. The fact that the actor is different in the three recorded versions proves that the identity of the hero of the tale is a minor motive, i.e., one that may be varied without affecting the essential meaning of the myth.

The story serves as an explanation of the markings on birds and fishes, these being where the ancestor who became the species was burnt by the fire. Thus the legend is of the kind that is often called etiological. The common method of explaining such legends is to say that they are crude attempts on the part of primitive man to explain the natural phenomena with which they deal, in this case the bright colours of birds and fishes. Such an interpretation cannot be regarded as adequate. Why should the Andaman Islanders want to explain the markings of animals? Why should they explain them in the form of a legend, and why should the legend take this peculiar form?

The clue to the true interpretation of the three stories mentioned must be sought in the social value of fire. It was shown in the last chapter that fire is regarded as the symbol of social life and social activity, the centre around which the social life revolves, the source from which it draws its force. We may say, in a word, that it is the possession of fire that makes social life (as the Andamanese know it) possible. It was shown that it is on account of this relation of the society to fire that the latter is believed to be a source of security, of protection against the spirits. Now amongst all the creatures that inhabit the world, man is the only one that possesses and makes use of fire. Here, then, is the fundamental notion that is expressed in these legends. At first, so the story runs, animals and human beings were one, were not distinguished. Then came the discovery of fire. Some of the (undifferentiated) ancestors fled from the fire, because they were afraid of it, or because it burnt them. They became birds and beasts and fishes, retaining their fear of the fire, and being cut off for ever from the human society which, from that moment, constitutes itself around the fire. It is the possession of the fire that makes human beings what they are, that makes life as they live it possible. It is equally (according to the legend) the lack of fire, or the lack of ability to make use of fire, that makes the animals what they are, that cuts them off from participation in human life.

This, briefly, is the way I would explain the legend mentioned above, and ample confirmation will be forthcoming when we consider some of the other legends. Attention may be called here to a very significant phrase in a version of the fire legend recorded by Mr Portman [196] to the effect that “it was on account of the fire (i.e. of the possession of fire) that the ancestors became alive.”

The three stories considered above contain three motives. (1) They express the social value of fire, by making the foundation of human society (through the differentiation of men and animals) depend on the discovery of fire. (2) They express a peculiar notion as to the relation of the human species to other animals, which is found also in other legends. (3) They give a legendary explanation of some of the characteristics of animals, such as the bright colours of certain birds and fishes.

It would seem that these same motives are present in many of the legends relating to the origin of fire. In the common version of the fire legend the fire is stolen from Biliku (Puluga) by the kingfisher. This bird has a patch of bright red feathers at the neck and these are explained as being where he was struck by the fire or the pearl-shell (lightning) flung by Biliku. In one variant the kingfisher swallowed the fire and had his head cut off by the lightning, whereupon the fire came out of his neck where the red feathers now are. In most of the versions it would seem to be implied that though the kingfisher succeeded in obtaining fire for the use of the ancestors, he was himself unable to profit by his own exertions, for he was turned into a bird condemned to eat his fish raw for ever. In one story, however, from the Aka-Kede tribe, it would seem that the kingfisher, by the possession of fire, and through the loss of his wings and tail, became a man. There is a lack of logic here which it is worth while to note. Although the kingfisher became a man yet the legend is clearly based on the explanation of the red feathers of the bird’s neck as due to the action of the fire. The psychological significance of such inconsistencies as this will have to be discussed later on.

Let us now consider another group of legends. We have seen that one explanation (in the mythological sense) of how the birds arose is that they were ancestors who fled from the fire. There are other stories that give a different account and relate that the animals came into existence through a great flood or storm that overwhelmed the ancestors. Both of these legends are to be found in the same tribes. Their incompatibility does not prevent them from being both equally accepted. If it can be shown that the story of the flood is simply an alternative method of expressing the same set of representations that underlie the story of the origin of the animals through the discovery of fire, the interpretation of the latter will be in some degree confirmed.

One account of the flood or storm, variants of which were obtained from both the north and south of the islands, tells how the ancestors only with great difficulty succeeded in saving the fire. Although it is not explicitly stated, we may conclude, I think, that it was because some of the ancestors kept their fire alight that they remained human, while those who lost their fire were turned into animals. If my personal impressions are of any value, this is really the idea that does underlie the legend in the native mind. Thus it would appear that this version of the flood myth is simply a reversal of the fire legend previously considered. They both express the same thing in different ways. They both make the possession of fire the thing on which social (i.e., human) life depends, the fundamental difference between man and animals.

It may be objected to this interpretation that in some of the versions of the flood myth there is no reference to the ancestors being turned into animals, while in others there is no reference to the saving of the fire. The reply to this is that if we are to understand the legends we must not consider each separately, but must seek out the connections between the different stories, connections that are not always obvious. Thus, as there are, in each of the tribes, different versions of a flood myth it might be supposed that the natives believe in several different floods having taken place in the times of the ancestors. Mr Man seems to have come to the conclusion that there were two distinct floods. I am fully satisfied, from personal knowledge, that the natives think of only one flood or catastrophe, and refer to it all the different legends. Sometimes a man will relate how the flood came and the fire was nearly lost, but will make no mention of the origin of animals at this time. At another time the same man will relate how the flood turned the ancestors into animals, but will make no mention of the saving of the fire. To understand the meaning of the legends we must connect these different stories together, for we know that they are connected in the minds of the Andaman Islanders themselves. Every native knows that it was at the time of the flood that the animals came into existence and he may remember this fact when he hears the story of how the fire was nearly lost. Similarly, when he hears the story of how the animals came into existence he remembers the other story of how the fire was nearly lost. Thus one man gave me a legend of the flood which explained the origin of the animals, and at the very end he mentioned as an afterthought “It was at this time that the fire was saved by Maia Taolu.”

When we thus connect the different stories relating to the flood we see that they express a definite system of representations or beliefs, which are found in all the tribes, and that this system is sometimes completely and sometimes partially expressed in the different versions. On the interpretation here suggested the major motives of the flood myth are (1) the social value of fire as expressed by making the difference between man and the animals depend on its possession by the former and not by the latter, and (2) the notion of the animals as having once been one with the ancestors. These two motives are both present in the legends of the origin of fire that were previously considered. It can be shown that even the third motive of the fire legend manages to creep into the flood story. In the Aka-Kede version [197] the dove is mentioned as having saved the fire. The connection between the dove and the fire (which appears in other legends) [198] would seem to have its basis in the shining plumage of the bird, just as the kingfisher is connected with the fire through the red feathers of its neck.

The details of the legends may be briefly mentioned. One Aka-J̌eru version [199] explains how one of the ancestors made a noise by breaking firewood while the cicada was singing and so raised a great storm, in which the fire was nearly lost, and in which many of the ancestors were turned into animals. This version is a fairly complete expression of the fundamental representations on which the whole group of legends is based. There is an elaboration of one point in that an account is given of how the cyclone was brought about. This is a separate motive which will be discussed and explained later in connection with the Biliku myth.

Another legend from the same tribe [200] relates to a storm that was caused in the same way, and that resulted in the destruction of the whole world. The fire, which was nearly extinguished, was saved by one of the ancestors. No mention was made of the ancestors being turned into animals. This version, however, as I have recorded it, is incomplete. I was unfortunately unable to understand some of what the narrator told me.

The Aka-Kede version [201] similarly does not distinctly state that the ancestors who were destroyed by the flood were turned into animals, but the fact that the three persons mentioned in the legend are all birds suggests that it was at this time that the birds originated. The bird called čarami-lebek, having lowered the surviving ancestors to the ground with their fire, remained at the top of the Dipterocarpus tree and has been there ever since. The Aka-Ko̱l version of the same story [202] simply states that the ancestors were turned into animals in a cyclone, but contains no mention of the rescue of the fire.

In a number of these legends it is stated that the ancestors saved themselves by climbing up into a tall tree or into the trees. This is to be explained by the fact that the birds all live up in the trees, and a great many of them can never be seen save overhead. The top of the forest is where the birds live, it is their world, raised above the world of men and women. The flood drove the inhabitants up to the tops of the trees. The birds remained there and only the human beings came down again. As the original inhabitants were driven up into the trees by water covering the land we may complete the myth by saying that those who failed to reach the upper world were on that account compelled to spend the rest of their existence in the water as fish and turtle. This is, I think, what the legend really means. Thus the story of the flood gives a picture of a threefold world, the waters below with their inhabitants the fishes and turtle and other marine creatures, the solid earth, and the upper region of the top of the forest where the flowers bloom and the butterflies and other insects and the birds pass their lives. This representation of the top of the forest as a world in itself may seem strange to one who has never seen a tropical forest, but to one who has spent months beneath it the forest-top of the Andamans does seem a world in itself, near yet inaccessible, a world where there is a gay and interesting life in the sunshine above, of which the wanderer in the deep shade beneath can only catch occasional glimpses as he gazes up through the tangle of boughs and leaves. For the natives of the islands therefore the top of the forest is an alien world into which they can only penetrate with extreme difficulty, by climbing, and with the life of which they have little to do. Similarly the waters of the sea are another world into which they can only penetrate for a few moments at a time by diving [203].

It may be said that, on this view, no allowance is made for the existence of terrestrial animals. That is true, but it must be remembered that there are very few such animals in the Andamans. The civet-cat and the monitor lizard and some of the snakes are as much arboreal in their habits as they are terrestrial. There remain only the pig and the rat as true terrestrial animals, and it may be noted that neither of these two animals ever figures in the legends as an ancestor. There are independent legends that relate to the origin of the pig, and the rat seems to be of so little importance that no explanation of its origin would seem to be necessary. Moreover the monitor lizard and the civet-cat, which are partly terrestrial, occupy for this reason exceptional positions in the legends. Thus there is a legend recorded from the Aka-Kede tribe which accounts for the simultaneous origin of the civet-cat and the pigs through a game of the ancestors [204]. The monitor lizard is in an altogether exceptional position in that it is equally at home in the trees, on the ground and in the water of a creek. It is in a way free of all the three divisions of the world. This helps us to understand why in some of the tribes the monitor lizard is regarded as the original ancestor not only of the Andamanese but also of all the animals, including the birds of the forest and the fishes of the sea. The civet-cat cannot live in the water as the lizard can [205], but can climb trees and run on the ground. In many of the legends the civet-cat is said to be the wife of the monitor lizard. It will be remembered that in the Akar-Bale story it is the civet-cat, the wife of the first ancestor (the monitor lizard), who saved the fire from the flood by climbing up to the top of a steep hill with it. Thus it may be seen that the position of the monitor lizard and the civet-cat in the legends of the Andamanese is partly determined by the position that these two animals occupy in relation to the threefold division of the world revealed in the story of the flood.

The repeated mention of the Dipterocarpus tree in these legends would seem to indicate that it is a motive of importance. The tree is the tallest tree of the Andaman forests, and is very common, but it is probable that this does not afford an adequate explanation, and that there are other ideas connected with it in the minds of the Andamanese that would justify the place it occupies in the mythology. In one Aka-J̌eru story the whole forest is said to have sprung from a Dipterocarpus seed dropped by Biliku after she had destroyed the original forest in her anger. It may be noted in passing that in the languages of the North Andaman the word for this tree is the same as the word for dugong.

Let us now briefly examine the story of the origin of animals as recorded from the Akar-Bale tribe [206]. There are three variants of this story. The one recorded from an A-Pučikwar informant [207] must really be regarded, I believe, as an imperfect reproduction of the Akar-Bale version. The version given by Mr Man [208] is also of Akar-Bale origin, as is shown by the fact that the phrases in it are in the Akar-Bale language. A comparison of these variants shows that the main purpose of the story is to relate how a great storm or cyclone visited the islands in the times of the ancestors and turned many of them into animals. The storm was brought about by the action of one of the ancestors who in anger did some of the things that are known to anger Puluga and cause a storm.

In some of the other legends we find the same motive. Thus in an Aka-J̌eru legend [209] the flood is said to have been caused by one of the ancestors breaking firewood while the cicada was singing. In an Aka-Kede version [210] this part of the story is further elaborated, and a reason is given for this action on the part of the ancestor. Ko̱po-tera-wat was angry with the rest of the ancestors because they refused to give him any of the honey they had collected, and he therefore deliberately performed the action that brought the storm. The purpose of these elements of the legend is to explain how the great flood came about, by tracing it to the anti-social action of some one or more of the ancestors, just as the night is supposed to have been produced by an ancestor who performed a forbidden action. In the Aka-Kede version and also, as we shall see, in the Akar-Bale story, the matter is traced still further back and the anti-social action of the ancestor is explained as being caused by his anger which had been aroused by a disagreement with the ancestors. The origin of the catastrophe that separated the once united ancestors into animals and human beings is thus traced to the fact that they could not live together sociably and in harmony.

In the Akar-Bale story the part which explains how one of the ancestors came to give way to anger is highly elaborated. It starts with the quarrel of the tree-lizard with some of the ancestors. (It may be noted in passing that the tree-lizard is quarrelsome in reality.) This leads to the death of the lizard (or his transformation into an animal that still bears the name), and so to the grief of his mother and her anger against the ancestors who have killed her son. This elaboration of one part of the story tends to obscure the meaning of the whole. This is particularly the case in the version recorded by myself in which the anger of the tree-lizard is the direct cause of the change of some of the ancestors into animals. The narrator sets out to explain how a flood or cyclone came and turned the ancestors into fishes and birds. He elaborates the details of the first part of the story to such an extent that he loses sight of the conclusion. The purpose of the story as explaining the origin of animals remains in his mind, however, and gives rise to the description of how some of the animals had their origin as animals (i.e., were cut off from the human society) by being thrown by the lizard into the forest or into the sea. The legend in this form may therefore be regarded as giving an alternative explanation of the separation of the animals from the human society, the cause of the separation being a great quarrel in which they were all involved. In other words, human society is only possible if personal anger be subordinated to the need of good order; the animals are cut off from human society because they could not live peaceably together without quarrelling.

The examination of the variants of the flood-myth has taken us away from the main argument. In the various stories there are two separable elements. There is first the explanation of how a disastrous flood or storm was caused by the non-observance of ritual prohibitions connected with Biliku (Puluga). This element will have to be considered in relation to the Biliku myth. There is secondly the account of how through the flood or storm the birds and fishes became separated from the human race, and the three regions of the world, as the Andaman Islander knows it, became established. It is this second element that I have sought to explain. To repeat the argument, I would hold that it is really through the loss of the fire that the birds and fishes became cut off from mankind, and that therefore this element of the legends of the flood expresses exactly the same notion as the legend of the catastrophe that followed the discovery of fire. The two groups of legends result from the way the Andaman Islander feels about the fire as being the one thing on which the society most completely depends for its welfare.

The preceding analysis has shown that the legends relating to the origin of animals, whether through the action of fire, or by the flood, serve to express the social value of fire. If this interpretation be correct we have a close parallel to the explanation of the story of the origin of night. In both cases, it has been argued, what the legend really expresses is the way in which a particular phenomenon (fire, in one case, the alternation of day and night in the other) affects the life of the society and the sentiments on which that life depends. The legends of the catastrophe, however, obviously contain another element of importance, revealing as they do a certain way of thinking about the animals. This element has not yet been explained. The representation of the birds, etc., as ancestors is not confined to one particular legend or group of legends, but runs through them all. Its explanation is therefore better postponed until we come to deal with the general features of the mythology, and will then have to be undertaken.