Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

A CURIOUS SEA-GOING CRAFT—­THE UNKNOWN VOYAGE BEGUN.

It was early next morning when Van der Kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen.

Perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation.  The hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with Moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast.

They had scarcely left the cave when Nigel awoke.  Feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as “having a look at the weather.”  Whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before.  Arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice.  He turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit’s home.

Just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun.  A curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind!  At the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling.  Ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness.

“It must be coming out tail-foremost!” he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity.

Another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder.

As Nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of Moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe.

“I see you are active and an early riser,” said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero.

“I almost took you for a Krakatoa monster!” said Nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground.  “Why, you’ve got here one of the craft which we in England call a Rob Roy canoe!”

“It is fashioned on the same pattern,” said the hermit, “but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement—­as I think—­founded on what I have myself seen, when travelling with the Eskimos of Greenland.”

Van der Kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in England, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons.  Also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes.

“These saddles, as I call them,” said the hermit, “have been suggested to me by the Eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used.  Thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the Rob Roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt.  Moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water.  I have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the English canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the Eskimo saddle.  Inside, under the deck, as I will show you by and by, I have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but I prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean.”

“You don’t mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!” exclaimed Nigel in surprise.

“Indeed we do,” returned the hermit, “and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather.  Besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose.  I made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it.  The wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar.  This makes the craft watertight as well as strong.  The ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and stronger than the others and made of tougher wood.  All these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak.  Besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three water-tight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled.”

“Is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?” asked Nigel.

“It is.  We shall start in an hour or two.  I keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place.  But come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements.  Of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?”

“If I did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor,” returned our hero.

“That is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed.  I usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and Moses steers.”

Van der Kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder.

A few minutes’ walk brought them to the beach at the spot where Nigel had originally landed.  Here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe.  There were several small bags of pemmican, which Van der Kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of North America among the Red Indians,—­for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life.  There were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits.  There were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe.  There was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of Nigel.

There was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft.

Spinkie, as Moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey.  He was seated on a water-cask when Nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it.

“Is that what he is doing?” asked Nigel of the negro.

“Oh no, Massa Nadgel,” said Moses.  “Spinkie nebber ketch cold an’ hab no need ob a pocket-hangkitcher.  He only tickles his nose wid ’is tail.  But he’s bery fond ob doin’ dat.”

Being extremely fond of monkeys, Nigel went forward to fondle him, and Spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly—­after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion—­into the stranger’s hands.  A lifelong friendship was cemented then and there.

After stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe.

“An’ he’s a good defender ob it,” said Moses, “for if man or beast happen to come near it when Spinkie’s in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin’ fit to cause a ’splosion ob Perboewatan!”

Breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder.  Each bed, however, was light and simple.  It consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet.  Besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt.  Van der Kemp and Nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts.  Moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his couteau de chasse bore stronger resemblance to an ancient Roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions.

Launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while Nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes.  He did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist.

Round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled canvas was attached.

“Yes, you’d better understand that thing before we start,” said Van der Kemp, observing that Nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity.  “It’s an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out.  In fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge.  Undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used.”

Acting as directed, Nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest.  In this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat.

“You see,” explained the hermit, “the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on—­there are similar protections round the other holes.”

“I understand,” said Nigel.  “But how if water gets in through a leak below?”

“Do you see that brass thing in front of you?” returned the hermit.  “That is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak.  The handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted.  I keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things.”

As he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad.  The plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box.  The hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself.  But the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on indiarubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote.  Although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef points.  All these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase—­multum, in parvo.

“We don’t use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this,” said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him.  Moses uses a single blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land.  You are at liberty to use which you prefer.”

“Thanks, I will follow the lead of Moses, for I also have been accustomed to the single blade and prefer it—­at least while I am one of three.  If alone, I should prefer the double blade.”

“Now, Moses, are you ready?” asked the hermit.

“All ready, massa.”

“Get in then and shove off.  Come along, Spinkie.”

The monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of Nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady.

“You need not give yourself any concern about Spinkie,” said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured.  “He is quite able to take care of himself.”

Bounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of Van der Kemp’s powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of Van der Kemp as well as that of Moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind.

About a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of Java, glinted over the mountains of Sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of Krakatoa—­emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from Perboewatan, until the hermit’s home sank from view in the western horizon.