Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

FRIENDS ARE MET WITH, ALSO PIRATES, AND A LIFE-OR-DEATH PADDLE ENSUES.

In physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm.

Much to the monkey’s joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun erelong asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below.  The first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails.  Then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave.  Gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky.

When this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles.

“We get along wonderfully fast, Van der Kemp,” said Nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; “but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach Borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan’t be able to reach it for weeks—­if at all.”

“I have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning,” returned the hermit, “by having to fly from the party on the islet, where I meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all.  The steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that I can count on it to a day.  But it may have passed us in the gale.  If so, I shall take advantage of the first vessel that will agree to lend us a hand.”

“How!—­Do you get them to tow you?”

“Nay, that were impossible.  A jerk from the tow-rope of a steamer at full speed would tear us asunder.  Have you observed these two strong ropes running all round our gunwale, and the bridles across with ring-bolts in them?”

“I have, and did not ask their use, as I thought they were merely meant to strengthen the canoe.”

“So they are,” continued the hermit, “but they have other uses besides—­”

“Massa,” cried Moses, at this point.  “You’ll ’scuse me for ‘truptin’ you, but it’s my opinion dat Spinkie’s sufferin’ jus’ now from a empty stummik!”

The hermit smiled and Nigel laughed.  Laying down his paddle the former said—­

“I understand, Moses.  That speech means that you are suffering from the same complaint.  Well—­get out the biscuit.”

“Jus’ de way oh de wurld,” muttered the negro with a bland smile.  “If a poor man obsarves an’ feels for de sorrows ob anoder, he allers gits credit for t’inkin’ ob hisself.  Neber mind, I’s used to it!”

Evidently the unjust insinuation did not weigh heavily on the negro’s spirit, for he soon began to eat with the appetite of a healthy alligator.

While he was thus engaged, he chanced to raise his eyes towards the south-western horizon, and there saw something which caused him to splutter, for his mouth was too full to speak, but his speaking eyes and pointing finger caused his companions to turn their faces quickly to the quarter indicated.

“A steamer!” exclaimed the hermit and Nigel in the same breath.

The vessel in question was coming straight towards them, and a very short time enabled Van der Kemp to recognise with satisfaction the steamer owned by his friend.

“Look here, run that to the mast-head,” said Van der Kemp, handing a red flag to Nigel.  “We lie so low in the water that they might pass quite close without observing us if we showed no signal.”

An immediate though slight change in the course of the steamer showed that the signal had been seen.  Hereupon the hermit and Moses performed an operation on the canoe which still further aroused Nigel’s surprise and curiosity.  He resolved to ask no questions, however, but to await the issue of events.

From the marvellous hold of the canoe, which seemed to be a magazine for the supply of every human need, Moses drew a short but strong rope or cable, with a ring in the middle of it, and a hook at each end.  He passed one end along to his master who hooked it to the bridle-rope at the bow before referred to.  The other end was hooked to the bridle in the stern, so that the ring in the centre came close to Nigel’s elbow.

This arrangement had barely been completed when the steamer was within hail, but no hail was given, for the captain knew what was expected of him.  He reduced speed as the vessel approached the canoe, and finally came almost to a stop as he ranged alongside.

“What cheer, Van der Kemp?  D’ye want a lift to-day?” shouted the skipper, looking over the side.

A nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit’s reply.

“Heave a rope, boys—­bow and stern—­and lower away the tackle,” was the skipper’s order.

A coil was flung to Van der Kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight.  Another was flung to Moses, who also caught it and held on—­slack.  At the same moment, Nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head.

“Catch it, Nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow,” said the hermit.

Our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn.

“Haul away!” shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of Van der Kemp and Moses.  At the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed.

It was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that Nigel found himself on the steamer’s deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper.

“You see, Nigel,” said Van der Kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, “I have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the Java seas.  Many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when I require it.”

“Very kind of them, and very convenient,” returned Nigel.  He felt inclined to add:  “But why all this moving about?” for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit’s object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject.

“D’ye know, Van der Kemp, that I feel as if I must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me.  Have you ever been in England?”

“Never.  As I have told you, I was born in Java, and was educated in Hongkong at an English School.  But a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon.  I myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that I spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that I was mistaken.”

The captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation.

“Are you engaged, Van der Kemp?” he asked.

“No—­I am at your service.”

“Come below then, I want to have a talk with you.”

Thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, Nigel went forward to see what was going on.  He found a group of sailors round his comrade Moses, apparently engaged in good-natured “chaff.”

“Come, now, blackey,” said one; “be a good fellow for once in your life an’ tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like Robinson Crusoe, an’ go about the ocean in a canoe.”

“Look ’ere now, whitey,” returned Moses, “what you take me for?”

“A nigger, of course.”

“Ob course, an’ you’re right for once, which is sitch an unusual t’ing dat I ‘dvise you go an’ ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log.  I’s a nigger, an’ a nigger’s so much more ’cute dan a white man dat you shouldn’t ought to expect him to blab his massa’s secrets.”

“Right you are, Moses.  Come, then, if you won’t reweal secrets, give us a song.”

“Couldn’t t’ink ob such a t’ing,” said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I neber sing a song widout a moral, an’ I don’t like to hurt your feelin’s by singin’ a moral dat would be sure to waken up some o’ your consciences.”

“Never mind that, darkey.  Our consciences are pretty tough.  Heave ahead.”

“But dere’s a chorus,” said Moses, looking round doubtfully.

“What o’ that?  We’ll do our best with it—­if it ain’t too difficult.”

“Oh, it’s not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey’ll be singin’ lies, an’ I don’t ’zackly like to help men to tell lies.  Howseber, here goes.  It begins wid de chorus so’s you may know it afore you has to sing it.”

So saying, Moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:—­

“GO TO WORK.”

Oh when de sun am shinin’ bright, and eberyt’ing am fair,
Clap on de steam an’ go to work, an’ take your proper share. 
De wurld hab got to go ahead, an’ dem what’s young and strong
Mus’ do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along.

De lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin’ round. 
If he was king he’d loaf an’ sing—­and guzzle, I’ll be bound,
He always shirk de hardest work, an’ t’ink he’s awful clebbar,
But boder his head to earn his bread, Oh! no, he’ll nebber, nebber.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

De selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work,
Let women toil, an’ sweat and moil—­as wicked as de Turk. 
De cream ob eberyt’ing he wants, let oders hab de skim;
In fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

So keep de ball a-rollin’, boys, an’ each one do his best
To make de wurld a happy one—­for dat’s how man is blest. 
Do unto oders all around de t’ing what’s good and true,
An’ oders, ’turning tit for tat, will do de same to you.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

The sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as Moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them—­at least, if they all sang conscientiously!

The weather improved every hour, and after a fine run of about twenty-four hours over that part of the Malay Sea, our three voyagers were lowered over the steamer’s side in their canoe when within sight of the great island of Borneo.

“I’m sorry,” said the captain at parting, “that our courses diverge here, for I would gladly have had your company a little longer.  Good-bye.  I hope we’ll come across you some other time when I’m in these parts.”

“Thanks—­thanks, my friend,’” replied Van der Kemp, with a warm grip of the hand, and a touch of pathos in his tones.  “I trust that we shall meet again.  You have done me good service by shortening my voyage considerably.—­Farewell.”

“I say, Moses,” shouted one of the seamen, as he looked down on the tiny canoe while they were pushing off.

“Hallo?”

“Keep your heart up, for—­we’ll try to ’do to oders all around de t’ing what’s good an’ true!’”

“Das de way, boy—­’an’ oders, ’turning tit for tat, will do de same to you!’”

He yelled rather than sang this at the top of his tuneful voice, and waved his hand as the sharp craft shot away over the sea.

Fortunately the sea was calm, for it was growing dark when they reached the shores of Borneo and entered the mouth of a small stream, up which they proceeded to paddle.  The banks of the stream were clothed with mangrove trees.  We have said the banks, but in truth the mouth of that river had no distinguishable banks at all, for it is the nature of the mangrove to grow in the water—­using its roots as legs with which, as it were, to wade away from shore.  When darkness fell suddenly on the landscape, as it is prone to do in tropical regions, the gnarled roots of those mangroves assumed the appearance of twining snakes in Nigel’s eyes.  Possessing a strongly imaginative mind he could with difficulty resist the belief that he saw them moving slimily about in the black water, and, in the dim mysterious light, tree stems and other objects assumed the appearance of hideous living forms, so that he was enabled to indulge the uncomfortable fancy that they were traversing some terrestrial Styx into one of Dante’s regions of horror.

In some respects this was not altogether a fancy, for they were unwittingly drawing near to a band of human beings whose purposes, if fully carried out, would render the earth little better than a hell to many of their countrymen.

It is pretty well known that there is a class of men in Borneo called Head Hunters.  These men hold the extraordinary and gruesome opinion that a youth has not attained to respectable manhood until he has taken the life of some human being.

There are two distinct classes of Dyaks—­those who inhabit the hills and those who dwell on the sea-coast.  It is the latter who recruit the ranks of the pirates of those eastern seas, and it was to the camp of a band of such villains that our adventurers were, as already said, unwittingly drawing near.

They came upon them at a bend of the dark river beyond which point the mangroves gave place to other trees—­but what sort of trees they were it was scarcely light enough to make out very distinctly, except in the case of the particular tree in front of which the Dyaks were encamped, the roots of which were strongly illuminated by their camp fire.  We say roots advisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aërial roots which themselves formed a pyramid some sixty feet high, before the branches proper of the tree began.

If our voyagers had used oars the sharp ears of the pirates would have instantly detected them.  As it was, the softly moving paddles and the sharp cutwater of the canoe made no noise whatever.  The instant that Van der Kemp, from his position in the bow, observed the camp, he dipped his paddle deep, and noiselessly backed water.  There was no need to give any signal to his servant.  Such a thorough understanding existed between them that the mere action of the hermit was sufficient to induce the negro to support him by a similar movement on the opposite side, and the canoe glided as quickly backward as it had previously advanced.  When under the deep shadow of the bank Moses thrust the canoe close in, and his master, laying hold of the bushes, held fast and made a sign to him to land and reconnoitre.

Creeping forward to an opening in the bushes close at hand, Moses peeped through.  Then he turned and made facial signals of a kind so complicated that he could not be understood, as nothing was visible save the flashing of his teeth and eyes.  Van der Kemp therefore recalled him by a sign, and, stepping ashore, whispered Nigel to land.

[Illustration:  DISCOVER A PIRATES’ BIVOUAC.—­PAGE 164.]

Another minute and the three travellers stood on the bank with their heads close together.

“Wait here for me,” said the hermit, in the lowest possible whisper.  “I will go and see who they are.”

“Strange,” said Nigel, when he was gone; “strange that in so short a time your master should twice have to stalk strangers in this way.  History repeats itself, they say.  It appears to do so rather fast in these regions!  Does he not run a very great risk of being discovered?”

“Not de smallest,” replied the negro, with as much emphasis as was possible in a whisper.  “Massa hab ride wid de Vaquieros ob Ameriky an’ hunt wid de Injuns on de Rockies.  No more fear ob deir ketchin’ him dan ob ketchin’ a streak o’ lightnin’.  He come back bery soon wid all de news.”

Moses was a true prophet.  Within half-an-hour Van der Kemp returned as noiselessly as he had gone.  He did not keep them long in uncertainty.

“I have heard enough,” he whispered, “to assure me that a plot, of which I had already heard a rumour, has nearly been laid.  We fell in with the chief plotters on the islet the other night; the band here is in connection with them and awaits their arrival before carrying out their dark designs.  There is nothing very mysterious about it.  One tribe plotting to attack another—­that is all; but as a friend of mine dwells just now with the tribe to be secretly attacked, it behoves me to do what I can to save him.  I am perplexed, however.  It would seem sometimes as if we were left in perplexity for wise purposes which are beyond our knowledge.”

“Perhaps to test our willingness to do right,” suggested Nigel.

“I know not,” returned the hermit, as if musing, but never raising his voice above the softest whisper.  “My difficulty lies here; I must go forward to save the life of my friend.  I must not leave you at the mouth of a mangrove river to die or be captured by pirates, and yet I have no right to ask you to risk your life on my account!”

“You may dismiss your perplexities then,” said Nigel, promptly, “for I decline to be left to die here or to be caught by pirates, and I am particularly anxious to assist you in rescuing your friend.  Besides, am I not your hired servant?”

“The risk we run is only at the beginning,” said Van der Kemp.  “If we succeed in passing the Dyaks unseen all will be well.  If they see us, they will give chase, and our lives, under God, will depend on the strength of our arms, for I am known to them and have thwarted their plans before now.  If they catch us, death will be our certain doom.  Are you prepared?”

“Ready!” whispered Nigel.

Without another word the hermit took his place in the bow of the canoe.  Moses stepped into the stern, and our hero sat down in the middle.

Before pushing off, the hermit drew a revolver and a cutlass from his store-room in the bow and handed them to Nigel, who thrust the first into his belt and fastened the other to the deck by means of a strap fixed there on purpose to prevent its being rolled or swept off.  This contrivance, as well as all the other appliances in the canoe, had previously been pointed out and explained to him.  The hermit and negro having armed themselves in similar way, let go the bushes which held them close to the bank and floated out into the stream.  They let the canoe drift down a short way so as to be well concealed by the bend in the river and a mass of bushes.  Then they slowly paddled over to the opposite side and commenced to creep up as close to the bank as possible, under the deep shadow of overhanging trees, and so noiselessly that they appeared in the darkness like a passing phantom.

But the sharp eyes of the pirates were too much accustomed to phantoms of every kind to be easily deceived.  Just as the canoe was about to pass beyond the line of their vision a stir was heard in their camp.  Then a stern challenge rolled across the river and awoke the slumbering echoes of the forest—­perchance to the surprise and scaring away of some prowling beast of prey.

“No need for concealment now,” said Van der Kemp, quietly; “we must paddle for life.  If you have occasion to use your weapons, Nigel, take no life needlessly.  Moses knows my mind on this point and needs no warning.  Any fool can take away life.  Only God can give it.”

“I will be careful,” replied Nigel, as he dipped his paddle with all the muscular power at his command.  His comrades did the same, and the canoe shot up the river like an arrow.

A yell from the Dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose.

“They are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other,” said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, “so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us.  If we can reach it we shall be safe.”

While he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds.  Yet the sound of the pursuers’ oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb “it is the pace that kills” received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little—­very little at first—­while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives.

“Put on a spurt!” said the hermit, setting the example.

The pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also “put on a spurt,” and encouraged each other with a cheer.

Moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near.  He glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind.

“Shall we manage it, Moses?” asked Van der Kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril.

“No, massa.  Unpossable—­widout dis!”

The negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired.

The tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell.  Great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind.  A few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid.  They dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor’-western rivers of America.

“We are not safe yet,” said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid.

“Surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!”

“Nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot.  However, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats.  They know that, and will certainly give up the chase.  I think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure.”

“I wonder why they did not fire at us,” remarked Nigel.

“Probably because they felt sure of catching us,” returned the hermit, “and when they recovered from the confusion that Moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range.  I hope, Moses, that you aimed low.”

“Yes, massa—­but it’s sca’cely fair when life an’ def am in de balance to expect me to hit ’im on de legs on a dark night.  Legs is a bad targit.  Bullet’s apt to pass between ’em.  Howseber, dat feller won’t hop much for some time to come!”

A couple of hours later, having carried the canoe and baggage across the spits of land above referred to, and thus put at least half-a-day’s journey between themselves and their foes, they came to a halt for the night.

“It won’t be easy to find a suitable place to camp on,” remarked Nigel, glancing at the bank, where the bushes grew so thick that they overhung the water, brushing the faces of our travellers and rendering the darkness so intense that they had literally to feel their way as they glided along.

“We will encamp where we are,” returned the hermit.  “I’ll make fast to a bush and you may get out the victuals, Moses.”

“Das de bery best word you’ve said dis day, massa,” remarked the negro with a profound sigh.  “I’s pritty well tired now, an’ de bery t’ought ob grub comforts me!”

“Do you mean that we shall sleep in the canoe?” asked Nigel.

“Ay, why not?” returned the hermit, who could be heard, though not seen, busying himself with the contents of the fore locker.  “You’ll find the canoe a pretty fair bed.  You have only to slip down and pull your head and shoulders through the manhole and go to sleep.  You won’t want blankets in this weather, and, see—­there is a pillow for you and another for Moses.”

“I cannot see, but I can feel,” said Nigel, with a soft laugh, as he passed the pillow aft.

“T’ank ee, Nadgel,” said Moses; “here—­feel behind you an’ you’ll find grub for yourself an’ some to pass forid to massa.  Mind when you slip down for go to sleep dat you don’t dig your heels into massa’s skull.  Dere’s no bulkhead to purtect it.”

“I’ll be careful,” said Nigel, beginning his invisible supper with keen appetite.  “But how about my skull, Moses?  Is there a bulkhead between it and your heels?”

“No, but you don’t need to mind, for I allers sleeps doubled up, wid my knees agin my chin.  It makes de arms an’ legs feel more sociable like.”

With this remark Moses ceased to encourage conversation—­his mouth being otherwise engaged.

Thereafter they slipped down into their respective places, laid their heads on their pillows and fell instantly into sound repose, while the dark waters flowed sluggishly past, and the only sound that disturbed the universal stillness was the occasional cry of some creature of the night or the flap of an alligator’s tail.