Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

HUNTING THE GREAT MAN-MONKEY.

Although Professor Verkimier had promised to return at once, he was compelled to encamp in the forest, being overtaken by night before he could reach the river and procure a boat.

Next morning they started at daybreak.  The country over which they passed had again changed its character and become more hilly.  On the summits of many of the hills Dyak villages could be seen, and rice fields were met with as they went along.  Several gullies and rivulets were crossed by means of native bamboo bridges, and the professor explained as he went along the immense value of the bamboo to the natives.  With it they make their suspension bridges, build their houses, and procure narrow planking for their floors.  If they want broader planks they split a large bamboo on one side and flatten it out to a plank of about eighteen inches wide.  Portions of hollow bamboo serve as receptacles for milk or water.  If a precipice stops a path, the Dyaks will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos by which it is supported.

Honey-bees in Borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt, under the branches of the Tappan, which towers above all the other trees of the forest.  But the Dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder—­which can be prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the Tappan—­and storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for bees’-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings, gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate themselves.  When travelling, the Dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve honey, sugar, etc., or salted fish and fruit.  Split bamboos form aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses.  A small neatly carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing—­which seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing.  If a pipe is wanted the Dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost ready-made.  But the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no other tools than an axe and a knife to work it.

At about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or prau, which had been sent down to convey them to the Rajah’s village.  Here Nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of Van der Kemp, who, somehow—­probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability, to oblige—­had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the Malay Archipelago he travelled.

Afterwards, in a conversation with Nigel, the professor, referring to those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere, said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself—­

“You cannot oonderstant Van der Kemp.  No man can oonderstant him.  He is goot, right down to zee marrow—­kind, amiable, oonselfish, obliging, nevair seems to zink of himself at all, ant, abof all zings, is capable.  Vat he vill do, he can do—­vat he can do he vill do.  But he is sad—­very sad.”

“I have observed that, of course,” said Nigel.  “Do you know what makes him so sad?”

The professor shook his head.

“No, I do not know.  Nobody knows.  I have tried to find out, but he vill not speak.”

The Orang-Kaya, or rich man, as this hill chief was styled, had provided lodgings for his visitors in the “head-house.”  This was a large circular building erected on poles.  There is such a house in nearly all Dyak villages.  It serves as a trading-place, a strangers’ room, a sleeping-room for unmarried youths, and a general council-chamber.  Here Nigel found the hermit and Moses enjoying a good meal when he arrived, to which he and the professor sat down after paying their respects to the chief.

“The Orang-Kaya hopes that we will stay with him some time and help to defend the village,” said Van der Kemp, when they were all seated.

“Of course you have agreed?” said Nigel.

“Yes; I came for that purpose.”

“We’s allers ready to fight in a good cause,” remarked Moses, just before filling his mouth with rice.

“Or to die in it!” added Verkimier, engulfing the breast of a chicken at a bite.  “But as zee pirates are not expected for some days, ve may as veil go after zee mias—­zat is what zee natifs call zee orang-utan.  It is a better word, being short.”

Moses glanced at the professor out of the corners of his black eyes and seemed greatly tickled by his enthusiastic devotion to business.

“I am also,” continued the professor, “extremely anxious to go at zee booterflies before—­”

“You die,” suggested Nigel, venturing on a pleasantry, whereat Moses opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, but, observing the professor’s goggles levelled at him, he transformed the laugh into an astounding sneeze, and immediately gazed with pouting innocence and interest at his plate.

“Do you alvays sneeze like zat?” asked Verkimier.

“Not allers,” answered the negro simply, “sometimes I gibs way a good deal wuss.  Depends on de inside ob my nose an’ de state ob de wedder.”

What the professor would have replied we cannot say, for just then a Dyak youth rushed in to say that an unusually large and gorgeous butterfly had been seen just outside the village!

No application of fire to gunpowder could have produced a more immediate effect.  The professor’s rice was scattered on the floor, and himself was outside the head-house before his comrades knew exactly what was the matter.

“He’s always like that,” said the hermit, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.  “Nothing discourages—­nothing subdues him.  Twice I pulled him out of deadly danger into which he had run in his eager pursuit of specimens.  And he has returned the favour to me, for he rescued me once when a mias had got me down and would certainly have killed me, for my gun was empty at the moment, and I had dropped my knife.”

“Is, then, the orang-utan so powerful and savage?”

“Truly, yes, when wounded and driven to bay,” returned the hermit.  “You must not judge of the creature by the baby that Verkimier has tamed.  A full-grown male is quite as large as a man, though very small in the legs in proportion, so that it does not stand high.  It is also very much stronger than the most powerful man.  You would be quite helpless in its grip, I assure you.”

“I hope, with the professor,” returned Nigel, “that we may have a hunt after them, either before or after the arrival of the pirates.  I know he is very anxious to secure a good specimen for some museum in which he is interested—­I forget which.”

As he spoke, the youth who had brought information about the butterfly returned and said a few words to Moses in his native tongue.

“What does he say?” asked Nigel.

“Dat Massa Verkimier is in full chase, an’ it’s my opinion dat when he comes back he’ll be wet all ober, and hab his shins and elbows barked.”

“Why d’you think so?”

“‘Cause dat’s de way he goed on when we was huntin’ wid him last year.  He nebber larns fro’ ’sperience.”

“That’s a very fine-looking young fellow,” remarked Nigel, referring to the Dyak youth who had just returned, and who, with a number of other natives, was watching the visitors with profound interest while they ate.

As the young man referred to was a good sample of the youth of his tribe, we shall describe him.  Though not tall, he was well and strongly proportioned, and his skin was of a reddish-brown colour.  Like all his comrades, he wore little clothing.  A gay handkerchief with a gold lace border encircled his head, from beneath which flowed a heavy mass of straight, jet-black hair.  Large crescent-shaped ornaments hung from his ears.  His face was handsome and the expression pleasing, though the mouth was large and the lips rather thick.  Numerous brass rings encircled his arms above and below the elbows.  His only other piece of costume was a waist-cloth of blue cotton, which hung down before and behind.  It ended in three bands of red, blue, and white.  There were also rows of brass rings on his legs, and armlets of white shells.  At his side he wore a long slender knife and a little pouch containing the materials for betel-chewing.

“Yes, and he is as good as he looks,” said the hermit.  “His name is Gurulam, and all the people of his tribe have benefited by the presence in Borneo of that celebrated Englishman Sir James Brooke,—­Rajah Brooke as he was called,—­who did so much to civilise the Dyaks of Borneo and to ameliorate their condition.”

The prophecy of Moses about the professor was fulfilled.  Just as it was growing dark that genial scientist returned, drenched to the skin and covered with mud, having tumbled into a ditch.  His knuckles also were skinned, his knees and shins damaged, and his face scratched, but he was perfectly happy in consequence of having secured a really splendid specimen of a “bootterfly” as big as his hand; the scientific name of which, for very sufficient reasons, we will not attempt to inflict on our readers, and the description of which may be shortly stated by the single word—­gorgeous!

Being fond of Verkimier, and knowing his desire to obtain a full-grown orang-utan, Gurulam went off early next morning to search for one.  Half-a-dozen of his comrades accompanied him armed only with native spears, for their object was not to hunt the animal, but to discover one if possible, and let the professor know so that he might go after it with his rifle, for they knew that he was a keen sportsman as well as a man of science.

They did not, indeed, find what they sought for, but they were told by natives with whom they fell in that a number of the animals had been seen among the tree-tops not more than a day’s march into the forest.  They hurried home therefore with this information, and that day—­accompanied by the Dyak youths, Nigel, the hermit, and Moses—­Verkimier started off in search of the mias; intending to camp out or to take advantage of a native hut if they should chance to be near one when night overtook them.

Descending the hill region, they soon came to more level ground, where there was a good deal of swamp, through which they passed on Dyak roads.  These roads consisted simply of tree-trunks laid end to end, along which the natives, being barefooted, walk with ease and certainty, but our booted hunters were obliged to proceed along them with extreme caution.  The only one who came to misfortune was, as usual, the professor; and in the usual way!  It occurred at the second of these tree-roads.

“Look, look at that remarkable insect!” exclaimed Nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart.  The professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions’ laughter.  The remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog.  These things affected him little.  His soul was large and rose superior to such trifles.

The virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of Borneo is considerably larger than all the British islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few.  Verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months—­ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing (inadvertently) in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants—­except the human—­to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives.  Yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed.

It was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees’-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day.  Towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began.

“You see,” said Verkimier, in a low voice, to Nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the “ready” and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen.  “You see, I came to Borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.—­Hush!  Do I not hear somet’ing?”

“Nothing but your own voice, I think,” said Nigel, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Vell—­hush!  Keep kviet, all of you.”

As the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth.

Just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground.

The professor’s rifle was a breechloader.  He therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party—­except Van der Kemp, Nigel, and Gurulam—­fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal.

“Look out!” whispered Nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead.

“Vere?  I cannot see him,” whispered the naturalist, whose eyes blazed enough almost to melt his blue glasses.  “Do you fire, Mr. Roy?”

“My gun is charged only with small-shot, for birds.  It is useless for such game,” said Nigel.

“Ach!  I see!”

Up went the rifle and again the echoes were startled and the animal kingdom astounded, especially that portion at which the professor had fired, for there was immediately a tremendous commotion among the leaves overhead, and another orang of the largest size was seen to cross an open space and disappear among the thick foliage.  Evidently the creature had been hit, but not severely, for it travelled among the tree-tops at the rate of full five miles an hour, obliging the hunters to run at a rapid pace over the rough ground in order to keep up with it.  In its passage from tree to tree the animal showed caution and foresight, selecting only those branches that interlaced with other boughs, so that it made uninterrupted progress, and also had a knack of always keeping masses of thick foliage underneath it so that for some time no opportunity was found of firing another shot.  At last, however, it came to one of those Dyak roads of which we have made mention, so that it could not easily swing from one tree to another, and the stoppage of rustling among the leaves told that the creature had halted.  For some time they gazed up among the branches without seeing anything, but at last, in a place where the leaves seemed to have been thrust aside near the top of one of the highest trees, a great red hairy body was seen, and a huge black face gazed fiercely down at the hunters.

Verkimier fired instantly, the branches closed, and the monster moved off in another direction.  In desperate anxiety Nigel fired both barrels of his shot-gun.  He might as well have fired at the moon.  Gurulam was armed only with a spear, and Van der Kemp, who was not much of a sportsman, carried a similar weapon.  The rest of the party were still out of sight in rear looking after the dead mias.

It was astonishing how little noise was made by so large an animal as it moved along.  More than once the hunters had to halt and listen intently for the rustling of the leaves before they could make sure of being on the right track.

At last they caught sight of him again on the top of a very high tree, and the professor got two more shots, but without bringing him down.  Then he was seen, quite exposed for a moment, walking in a stooping posture along the large limb of a tree, but the hunter was loading at the time and lost the chance.  Finally he got on to a tree whose top was covered with a dense mass of creepers which completely hid him from view.  Then he halted and the sound of snapping branches was heard.

“You’ve not much chance of him now,” remarked the hermit, as they all stood in a group gazing up into the tree-top.  “I have often seen the mias act thus when severely wounded.  He is making a nest to lie down and die in.”

“Zen ve must shoot again,” said the professor, moving round the tree and looking out for a sign of the animal.  At last he seemed to have found what he wanted, for raising his rifle he took a steady aim and fired.

A considerable commotion of leaves and fall of broken branches followed.  Then the huge red body of the mias appeared falling through, but it was not dead, for it caught hold of branches as it fell and hung on as long as it could; then it came crashing down, and alighted on its face with an awful thud.

After firing the last shot Verkimier had not reloaded, being too intent on watching the dying struggles of the creature, and when it fell with such violence he concluded that it was dead.  For the same reason Nigel had neglected to reload after firing.  Thus it happened that when the enormous brute suddenly rose and made for a tree with the evident intention of climbing it, no one was prepared to stop it except the Dyak youth Gurulam.  He chanced to be standing between the mias and the tree.

Boldly he levelled his spear and made a thrust that would probably have killed the beast, if it had not caught the point of the spear and turned it aside.  Then with its left paw it caught the youth by the neck, seized his thigh with one of its hind paws, and fixed its teeth in his right shoulder.

Never was man rendered more suddenly and completely helpless, and death would have been his sure portion before the hunters had reloaded if Van der Kemp had not leaped forward, and, thrusting his spear completely through the animal’s body, killed it on the spot.