Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

A TRYING ORDEAL—­DANGER THREATENS AND FLIGHT AGAIN RESOLVED ON.

When the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of God, all things with life in earth and sea and sky—­then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy.

Among the early risers that morning was our friend Moses.  Gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish.  Now, Moses was an ardent angler.

“I lub fishing,” he said one day to Nigel when in a confidential mood; “I can’t tell you how much I lub it.  Seems to me dat der’s nuffin’ like it for proggin’ a man!”

When Nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin’ meant, Moses said he wasn’t quite sure.  He could “understand t’ings easy enough though he couldn’t allers ’splain ’em.”  On the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning—­it was a combination of poke and pull “wid a flavour ob ticklin’ about it,” and was rather pleasant.

“You see,” he continued, “when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec’ an’ tickles up your fancy a leetle.  When he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal.  When a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper.  An’ when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t’roat, where it stick till you land him.”

With surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that Moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little Malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools.

But there were no particular pools in that river It was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them.  There were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly.  The line used by Moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea.  The bait was nothing in particular, but as the fish were not particular that was of no consequence.  The reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so Moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast.

After breakfast the whole party went forth for what Verkimier styled “zee business of zee day,” armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly nets.

In the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease.  Being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village.  Passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut.

We do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day’s expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor’s most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science.

At luncheon—­which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree—­plans for the afternoon were fixed.

“We have kept together long enough, I think,” said Van der Kemp.  “Those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return.”

“Vell, let us divide,” assented the amiable naturalist.  Indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything—­except giving up the hunt.  “Von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay.  I vill continue mine business.  Zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last.  Ve must remain two or tree veeks.”

The hermit glanced at Nigel.

“I fear it is impossible for me to do so,” said the latter.  “I am pledged to return to Batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country I perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge.”

“Ha!  Zat is a peety.  Vell, nevair mind.  Let us enchoy to-day.  Com’, ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures.”

Acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups—­the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly net.

Now, as the party of natives,—­including Baso, who carried the professor’s biggest box, and Grogo, who bore his gun,—­did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account!  Thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest!  But little cared the enthusiast for that—­or, rather, little did he realise it.  With perspiration streaming from every pore—­except where the pores were stopped by mud—­he dashed after “bootterflies” with the wisdom of Solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him.  Then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance—­and came to a sudden halt.

“Vat shall I do?” he asked.

Not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent.

“Lat me see.  I have been vandering avay all dis time.  Now, I have not’ing to do but right-about-face and vander back.”

Could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive?  He acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey.

Meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched.

“Where is the professor, Baso?” asked Van der Kemp as he came up.

Baso did not know, and looked at Grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with Nigel.

“I thought he was with you,” said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit.

“He’s goed an’ lost hisself!” cried Moses with a look of concern.

Van der Kemp was a man of action.  “Not a moment to lose,” he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle.

“Let this be our meeting-place,” he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; “and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally.”

Meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be—­and in truth was—­“back.”

He was not alone, however.  In the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat.  By that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance.  Suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man.  Whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring.  The professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other.

What the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor’s thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous—­almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous!

“Vat shall I do?  Deaf stares me in zee face!  No veapons! only a net, ant he is not a bootterfly!  Science, adieu!  Home of my chilthood, farevell!  My moder—­Hah! zee fusees!”

Such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance.  The last thought however led to action.  Verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker.  He carried fusees.  Slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees.  The tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring.  Bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars!

The effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding.  With a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail—­undoubtedly though not evidently—­between its legs!

Heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead.  Then he listened intently.

“A shote, if mine ears deceive me not!” he said, and listened again.

He was right.  Another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour.  Hurrying along the track—­not without occasional side-glances at the jungle—­the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger.

But Verkimier’s anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised.  The evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans.  In the middle of the night a native Malay youth named Babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief.  That worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing Van der Kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say.  An expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit’s usually placid countenance while Babu was speaking.

“It is fate!” he murmured, as if communing with himself—­then, after a pause—­“no, there is no such thing as fate.  It is, it must be, the will of God.  Go, young man, mention this to no one.  I thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake.”

“It is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you,” returned the lad earnestly.  “Every one loves you, Van der Kemp, because that curse of mankind, revenge, has no place in your breast.”

“Strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!” said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. “Revenge no place in me!—­but I thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me.  My life is not worth much to any one.  It will not matter, I think, if my enemy should succeed.  Go now, Babu, and God be with you!”

“He will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once,” rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision.  “Baderoon is furious at all times.  He is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans—­so it is said—­very often.  If he knew that I am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death.  I will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach.”

The hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise.

“How comes it,” he said, “that you are so much interested in me?  I remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service.”

“Do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying?  You nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own.  I do not forget that, Van der Kemp.  Sympathy is of more value than service.”

“Strangely mistaken again!” murmured the hermit.  “Who can know the workings of the human mind!  Self was mixed with my feelings—­profoundly—­yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere.”

“We never doubted that,” returned Babu with a touch of surprise in his tone.

“Well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?” asked the hermit with some curiosity.

“I will go on with you to the next village.  It is a large one.  The chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, I know, in any way I wish.  I will tell him what I know and have heard of the pirate’s intention, of which I have proof.  He will order Baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives.  Then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach.  That is not unjust.”

“True—­and I am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do.  Indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind.  It is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins.  The suspicion that detains Baderoon is more than justified, for I could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and I know him to be a murderer.”

At breakfast-time Van der Kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the Malay lad during the night.  This, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,—­though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled.

“It is very misfortunate,” he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice.  “You see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens I could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent Amblypodia eumolpus ant ozer bootterflies—­ach!-a leetle mor’ feesh if you please.  Zanks.  My frond, it is a great sacrifice, but I vill go avay viz you, for I could not joostify myself if I forzook you, ant I cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher.”

“I appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly,” said the hermit.

“So does I,” said Moses, helping himself to coffee; “but ob course if I didn’t it would be all de same.  Pass de venison, Massa Nadgel, an’ don’t look as if you was goin’ to gib in a’ready.  It spoils my appetite.”

“You will have opportunities,” continued Van der Kemp, addressing the professor, “to gather a good many specimens as we go along.  Besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in Krakatoa with a visit, I promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research.  You have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains.”

Hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure.

“But how,” he asked, “am I to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t’ree, as you have told me.”

“There are plenty of boats to be had.  Besides, I can send over my own boat for you to the mainland.  The distance is not great.”

“Goot.  Zat vill do.  I am happay now.”

“So,” remarked Nigel as he went off with Moses to pack up, “his ‘paradise regained’ is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken!  ‘Off wi’ the old love and on wi’ the new.’  ’The expulsive power of a new affection!’”

“Das true, Massa Nadgel,” observed Moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy.  “De purfesser am an affectionit creeter.  ’Pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation.  He kills an’ tenderly stuffs ’most eberyt’ing he kin lay hands on.  If he could only lay hold ob Baderoon an’ stuff an’ stick him in a moozeum, he’d do good service to my massa an’ also to de whole ob mankind.”