Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

BEGINS WITH A TERRIBLE FIGHT AND ENDS WITH A HASTY FLIGHT.

The hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the Dyak village.  This was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them.

The huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size.  It was not tall but very broad and large.  The exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape measure, were as follows:—­

Height from heel to top of head, 4 feet 2 inches.

Outstretched arms across chest, 7 ” 8 “

Width of face, 1 foot 2 “

Girth of arm, 1 ” 3 “

Girth of wrist, 8 “

The muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as Nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening—­of which, more presently.

On careful examination by Nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of Gurulam’s bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done—­thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit’s spear-thrust.  The poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home.

That afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark.

While a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by Moses, Van der Kemp attended to the wounded man, and Nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood.  Having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance.  Interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn.  They were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen.  It was feeding on succulent shoots by the water-side:  a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving.  The fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was forbade the idea of starvation.  Besides, it had brought a Durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots.  Perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic.

Anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes.  That they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream.  By mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings.  They were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream.  It picked up the Durian which lay there and began to devour it.  Biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast.

Now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and Nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey’s leg.  The scene that ensued baffles description!  Grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the American operation of gouging—­digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant’s jaws.  The crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears.  Nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him.  There was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias.  He never clenched his fist—­never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place.  At last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent’s throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth.  Wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face.

Slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat.

It is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death.

The people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men—­perhaps had never seen them before—­for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding!  They were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return.  Brass rings were the great ornament in this village—­as they are, indeed, among the Dyaks generally.  Many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee.  Their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies.  They also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour.

It was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them.

Arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated Malay pirate Baderoon.

Nigel observed that the countenance of his friend Van der Kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man’s name mentioned.  There was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics.

“Is Baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?” asked Nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening.

“Yes, and I fear to meet him,” replied his friend in a low voice.

Nigel was surprised.  The impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that Van der Kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear.

“Is he so very bitter against you?” asked Nigel.

“Very,” was the curt reply.

“Have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?”

“I am sure he would.  As I told you before, I have thwarted his plans more than once.  When he hears that it is I who have warned the Orang-Kaya against him he will pursue me to the death—­and—­and I must not meet him.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Nigel, with renewed surprise.

But the hermit took no note of the exclamation.  Anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground.  It seemed to Nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it.

“I suppose,” he said, “that there is no fear of the Dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?”

“None whatever.  Indeed, this is so well known to Baderoon that I think he will abandon the attempt.  But he will not abandon his designs on me.  However, we must wait and see how God will order events.”

Next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river.

“Do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?” asked the chief, turning to Van der Kemp, when he heard the news.

“I think not.  And even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them.”

“Yes, ready—­and well able to meet them,” replied the Orang-Kaya, drawing himself up proudly.

“Did they all go in one direction?” asked Van der Kemp of the youths who had brought the news.

“Yes, all went in a body to the north—­except one boat which rowed southward.”

“Hm!  I thought so.  My friends, listen to me.  This is no pretence.  They do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains Baderoon, and I feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me.”

“That is well,” returned the chief, calmly.  “My young men will hunt till they find where he is.  Then they will bring us the information and Van der Kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy.”

“No, my friend,” said the hermit, firmly; “that shall not be.  I must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here.”

The chief looked at his friend in surprise.  “Well,” he said, “you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs.  But you have already rendered me good service, and I will help you to fly—­though such is not the habit of the Dyaks!  There is a trader’s vessel to start for Sumatra by the first light of day.  Will my friend go by that?”

“I am grateful,” answered the hermit, “but I need no help—­save some provisions, for I have my little canoe, which will suffice.”

As this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to Nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade Moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn.

“You see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for Baderoon has a keen eye and ear.  Then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us—­and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes.  When night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn.”

“Mine frond,” said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit.  “I vill go viz you.”

“I should be only too happy to have your company,” returned the hermit, “but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three.”

“Zat is no matter to me,” rejoined Verkimier; “you forget zee trader’s boat.  I vill go in zat to Sumatra.  Ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere.  Vait for me if I have not arrived—­or I vill vait for you.  I have longed to visit Sumatra, ant vat better fronds could I go viz zan yourselfs?”

“But, my good friend,” returned the hermit, “my movements may not exactly suit yours.  Here they are,—­you can judge for yourself.  First I will, God permitting, cross over to Sumatra in my canoe.”

“But it is t’ree hoondert miles across, if not more!”

“No matter—­there are plenty of islands on the way.  Besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt.  Then I will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where I know there is a steamboat loading up about this time.  The captain is an old friend of mine.  He brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here.  If I find him I will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through Sunda Straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at Telok Betong on the south coast of Sumatra—­not far, as you know, from my home in Krakatoa.  Then I will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend Nigel Roy may see a little of the country.”

“Ant vat if you do not find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?”

“Why, then I shall have to adopt some other plan.  It is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them.”

“Zat is not’ing to me, Van der Kemp; you joost go as you say.  I vill follow ant take my chance.  I am use’ to ooncertainties ant difficoolties.  Zey can not influence me.”

After a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to.  The professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while Van der Kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the Dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight!

When Nigel had slept about five minutes—­as he thought—­he was awakened by Moses.

“Don’t make a noise, Massa Nadgel!  Dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus’ git off like mice.  Canoe’s ready an’ massa waitin’; we gib you to de last momint.”

In a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting.

The night was very dark.  This was in their favour,—­at least as regarded discovery.

“But how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?” asked Nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation.

“The current will guide us.  Besides, I have studied the river with a view to this flight.  Be careful in getting in.  Now, Moses, are you ready?”

“All right, massa.”

“Shove off, then.”

There was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that Nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed!

Floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps.  Here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security.

When darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river’s mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour.

“We are safe from pursuit now,” said Van der Kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell.

“O massa!” exclaimed Moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; “we’s forgotten Spinkie!”

“So we have!” returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that Nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy.

But Spinkie had not forgotten himself.  Observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master’s habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night.

Awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, Spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro’s nose, and with a sleepy “oo, oo!” gazed up into his face.

“Ho!  Dare you is, you mis’rible hyperkrite!” exclaimed Moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction.  “He’s here, massa, all right.  Now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair.”

The creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose.

Van der Kemp was wrong when he said they were safe.  A pirate scout had seen the canoe depart.  Being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him.  When Baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped.