Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata

AN AWFUL NIGHT AND TERRIBLE MORNING.

It was a matter of some satisfaction to find on drawing near to the shore that the peak of Rakata was still intact, and that, although most other parts of the island which could be seen were blighted by fire and covered deeply with pumice dust, much of the forest in the immediate neighbourhood of the cave was still undestroyed though considerably damaged.

“D’you think our old harbour will be available, Moses?” asked Van der Kemp as they came close to the first headland.

“Pr’aps.  Bes’ go an’ see,” was the negro’s practical reply.

“Evidently Rakata is not yet active,” said Nigel, looking up at the grey dust-covered crags as the canoe glided swiftly through the dark water.

“That is more than can be said for the other craters,” returned the hermit.  “It seems to me that not only all the old ones are at work, but a number of new ones must have been opened.”

The constant roaring and explosions that filled their ears and the rain of fine ashes bore testimony to the truth of this, though the solid and towering mass of Rakata rose between them and the part of Krakatoa which was in eruption, preventing their seeing anything that was passing except the dense masses of smoke, steam, and dust which rose many miles into the heavens, obstructing the light of day, but forming cloud-masses from which the lurid flames of the volcano were reflected downward.

On reaching the little bay or harbour it was found much as they had left it, save that the rocks and bushes around were thickly covered with dust, and their boat was gone.

“Strange! at such a time one would scarcely have expected thieves to come here,” said the hermit, looking slowly round.

“No t’ief bin here, massa,” said Moses, looking over the side of the canoe.  “I see de boat!”

He pointed downwards as he spoke, and on looking over the side they saw the wreck of the boat at the bottom, in about ten feet of water, and crushed beneath a ponderous mass of lava, which must have been ejected from the volcano and afterwards descended upon the boat.

The destruction of the boat rendered it impossible to remove any of the property of the hermit, and Nigel now saw, from his indifference, that this could not have been the cause of his friend’s anxiety and determination to reach his island home in spite of the danger that such a course entailed.  That there was considerable danger soon became very obvious, for, having passed to some extent at this point beyond the shelter of the cliffs of Rakata, and come partly into view of the other parts of the island, the real extent of the volcanic violence burst upon Nigel and Moses as a new revelation.  The awful sublimity of the scene at first almost paralysed them, and they failed to note that not only did a constant rain of pumice dust fall upon them, but that there was also a pretty regular dropping of small stones into the water around them.  Their attention was sharply aroused to this fact by the fall of a lump of semi-molten rock, about the size of a cannon shot, a short distance off, which was immediately followed by not less than a cubic yard of lava which fell close to the canoe and deluged them with spray.

“We must go,” said the hermit quietly.  “No need to expose ourselves here, though the watching of the tremendous forces that our Creator has at command does possess a wonderful kind of fascination.  It seems to me the more we see of His power as exerted on our little earth, the more do we realise the paltriness of our conception of the stupendous Might that upholds the Universe.”

While he was speaking, Van der Kemp guided the canoe into its little haven, and in a few minutes he and Moses had carried it into the shelter of the cave out of which Nigel had first seen it emerge.  Then the lading was carried up, after which they turned into the track which led to the hermit’s home.

The whole operation may be said to have been performed under fire, for small masses of rock kept pattering continually on the dust-covered ground around them, causing cloudlets, like smoke, to spring up wherever they struck.  Nigel and Moses could not resist glancing upward now and then as they moved quickly to and fro, and they experienced a shrinking sensation when a stone fell very near them, but each scorned to exhibit the smallest trace of anxiety, or to suggest that the sooner they got from under fire the better!  As for Van der Kemp, he moved about deliberately as if there was nothing unusual going on, and with an absent look on his grave face as though the outbursts of smoke, and fire, and lava, which turned the face of day into lurid night, and caused the cliffs to reverberate with unwonted thunders, had no effect whatever on his mind.

A short walk, however, along the track, which was more than ankle-deep in dust, brought them under the sheltering sides of Rakata, up which they soon scrambled to the mouth of their cave.  Here all was found as they had left it, save that the entrance was knee-deep in pumice dust.

And now a new and very strange sensation was felt by each of them, for the loud reports and crackling sounds which had assailed their ears outside were reduced by the thick walls of the cave to a continuous dull groan, as it were, like the soft but thunderous bass notes of a stupendous organ.  To these sounds were added others which seemed to be peculiar to the cave itself.  They appeared to rise from crevices in the floor, and were no doubt due to the action of those pent-up subterranean fires which were imprisoned directly, though it may be very far down, under their feet.  Every now and then there came a sudden increase of the united sounds as if the “swell” of the great organ had been opened, and such out-gushing was always accompanied with more or less of indescribable shocks followed by prolonged tremors of the entire mountain.

If the three friends had been outside to observe what was taking place, they would have seen that these symptoms were simultaneous with occasional and extremely violent outbursts from the crater of Perboewatan and his compeers.  Indeed they guessed as much, and two of them at least were not a little thankful that, awesome as their position was, they had the thick mountain between them and the fiery showers outside.

Of all this the hermit took no notice, but, hastening into the inner cavern, opened a small box, and took therefrom a bundle of papers and a little object which, at a first glance, Nigel supposed to be a book, but which turned out to be a photograph case.  These the hermit put carefully into the breastpocket of his coat and then turned to his companions with a sigh as if of relief.

“I think there is no danger of anything occurring at this part of the island,” he remarked, looking round the cave, “for there is no sign of smoke and no sulphurous smell issuing from any of the crevices in walls or floor.  This, I think, shows that there is no direct communication with Rakata and the active volcano—­at least not at present.”

“Do you then think there is a possibility of an outbreak at some future period?” asked Nigel.

“Who can tell?  People here, who don’t study the nature of volcanoes much, though surrounded by them, will expect things ere long to resume their normal condition.  I can never forget the fact that the greater part of Krakatoa stands, as you know, exactly above the spot where the two great lines of volcanic action cross, and right over the mouth of the immense crater to which Perboewatan and all the other craters serve as mere chimneys or safety-valves.  We cannot tell whether a great eruption similar to that of 1680 may not be in store for us.  The only reason that I can see for the quiescence of this peak of Rakata is, as I said to you once before, that it stands not so much above the old crater as above and on the safe side of its lip.”

“I t’ink, massa, if I may ventur’ to speak,” said Moses, “dat de sooner we git off his lip de better lest we tumble into his mout’.”

“You may be right, Moses, and I have no objection to quit,” returned the hermit, “now that I have secured the photograph and papers.  At the same time I fear the rain of stones and lava is growing worse.  It might be safer to stay till there is a lull in the violence of the eruption, and then make a dash for it.  What say you, Nigel?”

“I say that you know best, Van der Kemp.  I’m ready to abide by your decision, whatever it be.”

“Well, then, we will go out and have a look at the state of matters.”

The view from the entrance was not calculated to tempt them to forsake the shelter of the cave, however uncertain that might be.  The latest explosions had enshrouded the island in such a cloud of smoke and dust, that nothing whatever was visible beyond a few yards in front, and even that space was only seen by the faint rays of the lamp issuing from the outer cave.  This lamp-light was sufficient, however, to show that within the semicircle of a few yards there was a continuous rain of grey ashes and dust mingled with occasional stones of various sizes—­some larger than a man’s fist.

“To go out in that would be simply to court death,” said Nigel, whose voice was almost drowned by the noise of the explosions and fall of material.

As it was manifest that nothing could be done at the moment except to wait patiently, they returned to the cave, where they lighted the oil-stove, and Moses—­who had taken the precaution to carry up some provisions in a bag from the canoe—­proceeded to prepare a meal.

“Stummicks must be attended to,” he murmured to himself as he moved about the cave-kitchen and shook his head gravely.  “Collapses in dat region is wuss, a long way, dan ’splosion of the eart’!”

Meanwhile, Nigel and the hermit went to examine the passage leading to the observatory.  The eruption had evidently done nothing to it, for, having passed upwards without difficulty, they finally emerged upon the narrow ledge.

The scene that burst upon their astonished gaze here was awful in the extreme.  It will be remembered that while the hermit’s cave was on the southern side of Krakatoa, facing Java, the stair and passage leading to the observatory completely penetrated the peak of Rakata, so that when standing on the ledge they faced northward and were thus in full view of all the craters between them and Perboewatan.  These were in full blast at the time, and, being so near, the heat, as well as the dust, molten lava, and other missiles, instantly drove them back under the protection of the passage from which they had emerged.

Here they found a small aperture which appeared to have been recently formed—­probably by a blow from a mass of falling rock—­through which they were able to obtain a glimpse of the pandemonium that lay seething below them.  They could not see much, however, owing to the smoke which filled the air.  The noise of the almost continuous explosions was so loud, that it was impossible to converse save by placing the mouth to the ear and shouting.  Fortunately soon after their ascent the wind shifted and blew smoke, fire, and dust away to the northward, enabling them to get out on the ledge, where for a time they remained in comparative safety.

“Look! look at your mirrors!” exclaimed Nigel suddenly, as his wandering gaze happened to turn to the hermit’s sun-guides.

And he might well exclaim, for not only was the glass of these ingenious machines shivered and melted, but their iron frameworks were twisted up into fantastic shapes.

“Lightning has been at work here,” said Van der Kemp.

It did not at the moment occur to either of them that the position on which they stood was peculiarly liable to attack by the subtle and dangerous fluid which was darting and zig-zagging everywhere among the rolling clouds of smoke and steam.

A louder report than usual here drew their attention again to the tremendous scene that was going on in front of them.  The extreme summit of Perboewatan had been blown into a thousand fragments, which were hurtling upwards and crackling loudly as the smaller masses were impelled against each other in their skyward progress.  This crackling has been described by those who heard it from neighbouring shores as a “strange rustling sound.”  To our hermit and his friend, who were, so to speak, in the very midst of it, the sound rather resembled the continuous musketry of a battle-field, while the louder explosions might be compared to the booming of artillery, though they necessarily lose by the comparison, for no invention of man ever produced sounds equal to those which thundered at that time from the womb of Krakatoa.

Immediately after this, a fountain of molten lava at white heat welled up in the great throat that had been so violently widened, and, overflowing the edges of the crater, rolled down its sides in fiery rivers.  All the other craters in the island became active at the same moment and a number of new ones burst forth.  Indeed it seemed to those who watched them that if these had not opened up to give vent to the suppressed forces the whole island must have been blown away.  As it was, the sudden generation of so much excessive heat set fire to what remained of trees and everything combustible, so that the island appeared to be one vast seething conflagration, and darkness was for a time banished by a red glare that seemed to Nigel far more intense than that of noonday.

It is indeed the partiality (if we may say so) of conflagration-light which gives to it the character of impressive power with which we are all so familiar—­the intense lights being here cut sharply off by equally intense shadows, and then grading into dull reds and duller greys.  The sun, on the other hand, bathes everything in its genial glow so completely that all nature is permeated with it, and there are no intense contrasts, no absolutely black and striking shadows, except in caverns and holes, to form startling contrasts.

“These safety-valves,” said the hermit, referring to the new craters, “have, under God, been the means of saving us from destruction.”

“It would seem so,” said Nigel, who was too overwhelmed by the sight to say much.

Even as he spoke the scene changed as if by magic, for from the cone of Perboewatan there issued a spout of liquid fire, followed by a roar so tremendous that the awe-struck men shrank within themselves, feeling as though that time had really come when the earth is to melt with fervent heat!  The entire lake of glowing lava was shot into the air, and lost in the clouds above, while mingled smoke and steam went bellowing after it, and dust fell so thickly that it seemed as if sufficient to extinguish the raging fires.  Whether it did so or not is uncertain.  It may have been that the new pall of black vapour only obscured them.  At all events, after the outburst the darkness of night fell suddenly on all around.

Just then the wind again changed, and the whole mass of vapour, smoke, and ashes came sweeping like the very besom of destruction towards the giddy ledge on which the observers stood.  Nigel was so entranced that it is probable he might have been caught in the horrible tempest and lost had not his cooler companion grasped his arm and dragged him violently into the passage—­where they were safe, though half suffocated by the heat and sulphurous vapours that followed them.

At the same time the thunderous roaring became so loud that conversation was impossible.  Van der Kemp therefore took his friend’s hand and led him down to the cave, where the sounds were so greatly subdued as to seem almost a calm by contrast.

“We are no doubt in great danger,” said the hermit, gravely, as he sat down in the outer cave, “but there is no possibility of taking action to-night.  Here we are, whether wisely or unwisely, and here we must remain—­at least till there is a lull in the eruption.  ’God is our refuge.’  He ought to be so at all times, but there are occasions when this great, and, I would add, glorious fact is pressed upon our understandings with unusual power.  Such a time is this.  Come—­we will see what His word says to us just now.”

To Nigel’s surprise, and, he afterwards confessed, to his comfort and satisfaction, the hermit called the negro from his work, and, taking down the large Bible from its shelf, read part of the 46th Psalm, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.”

He stopped reading at the verse where it is written, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Then, going down on his knees,—­without even the familiar formula, “Let us pray”—­he uttered a brief but earnest prayer for guidance and deliverance “in the name of Jesus.”

Rising, he quietly put the Bible away, and, with the calmness of a thoroughly practical man, who looks upon religion and ordinary matters as parts of one grand whole, ordered Moses to serve the supper.

Thus they spent part of that memorable night of 26th August 1883 in earnest social intercourse, conversing chiefly and naturally about the character, causes, and philosophy of volcanoes, while Perboewatan and his brethren played a rumbling, illustrative accompaniment to their discourse.  The situation was a peculiar one.  Even the negro was alive to that fact.

“Ain’t it koorious,” he remarked solemnly in a moment of confidence after swallowing the last bite of his supper.  “Ain’t it koorious, Massa Nadgel, dat we’re a sottin’ here comf’rably enjoyin’ our wittles ober de mout’ ob a v’licano as is quite fit to blow us all to bits an’ hois’ us into de bery middle ob next week—­if not farder?”

“It is strange indeed, Moses,” said Nigel, who however added no commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject.

Seeing this, Moses turned to his master.

“Massa,” he said.  “You don’ want nuffin’ more to-night, I s’pose?”

“No, Moses, nothing.”

“An’ is you quite easy in your mind?”

“Quite,” replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile.

“Den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be oneasy, so I’ll bid ye bof good-night, an’ turn in.”

In this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep.

Nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer.

“Van der Kemp,” said the former, after a pause, “I—­I trust you won’t think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if I venture to ask you about —­the—­photograph that I think you——­”

“My young friend!” interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast pocket; “I should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it—­and yet,” he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, “I have not shown it to a living soul since the day that—­Well, well,—­why should I hesitate?  It is all I have left of my dead wife and child.”

He placed the case in the hands of Nigel, who almost sprang from his seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled Kathy Holbein—­allowing of course for the difference of age—­that he had now no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit’s lost daughter.  He was on the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him.

“You seem surprised, my friend,” said Van der Kemp gently.

“Most beautiful!” said Nigel, gazing intently at the portrait.  “That dear child’s face seems so familiar to me that I could almost fancy I had seen it.”

He looked earnestly into his friend’s face as he spoke, but the hermit was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low tone of his voice as he said—­

“Yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother.  As to your fancy about having seen it—­mankind is formed in groups and types.  We see many faces that resemble others.”

The absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread his massive features, and Nigel felt crushed, as it were, back into himself.  Thus, without having disclosed his belief, he retired to rest in a very anxious state of mind, while the hermit watched.

“Don’t take off your clothes,” he said.  “If the sounds outside lead me to think things are quieting down, I will rouse you and we shall start at once.”

It was very early on the morning of the 27th when Van der Kemp roused our hero.

“Are things quieter?” asked Nigel as he rose.

“Yes, a little, but not much—­nevertheless we must venture to leave.”

“Is it daylight yet?”

“No.  There will be no daylight to-day!” with which prophecy the hermit left him and went to rouse Moses.

“Massa,” said the faithful negro.  “Isn’t you a goin’ to take nuffin’ wid you?  None ob de books or t’ings?”

“No—­nothing except the old Bible.  All the rest I leave behind.  The canoe could not carry much.  Besides, we may have little time.  Get ready; quick! and follow me.”

Moses required no spur.  The three men left the cave together.  It was so intensely dark that the road could not be distinguished, but the hermit and his man were so familiar with it that they could have followed it blindfold.

On reaching the cave at the harbour, some light was obtained from the fitful outbursts of the volcano, which enabled them to launch the canoe and push off in safety.  Then, without saying a word to each other, they coasted along the shore of the island, and, finally, leaving its dangers behind, them, made for the island of Java—­poor Spinkie sitting in his accustomed place and looking uncommonly subdued!

Scarcely had they pushed off into Sunda Straits when the volcano burst out afresh.  They had happily seized on the only quiet hour that the day offered, and had succeeded, by the aid of the sails, in getting several miles from the island without receiving serious injury, although showers of stones and masses of rock of all sizes were falling into the sea around them.

Van der Kemp was so far right in his prophecy that there would be no daylight that day.  By that time there should have been light, as it was nearly seven o’clock on the memorable morning of the 27th of August.  But now, although the travellers were some miles distant from Krakatoa, the gloom was so impervious that Nigel, from his place in the centre of the canoe, could not see the form of poor Spinkie—­which sat clinging to the mast only two feet in front of him—­save when a blaze from Perboewatan or one of the other craters lighted up island and ocean with a vivid glare.

At this time the sea began to run very high and the wind increased to a gale, so that the sails of the canoe, small though they were, had to be reduced.

“Lower the foresail, Nigel,” shouted the hermit.  “I will close-reef it.  Do you the same to the mainsail.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” was the prompt reply.

Moses and Nigel kept the little craft straight to the wind while the foresail was being reefed, Van der Kemp and the former performing the same duty while Nigel reefed the mainsail.

Suddenly there came a brief but total cessation of the gale, though not of the tumultuous heaving of the waters.  During that short interval there burst upon the world a crash and a roar so tremendous that for a few moments the voyagers were almost stunned!

It is no figure of speech to say that the world heard the crash.  Hundreds, ay, thousands of miles did the sound of that mighty upheaval pass over land and sea to startle, more or less, the nations of the earth.

The effect of a stupendous shock on the nervous system is curiously various in different individuals.  The three men who were so near to the volcano at that moment involuntarily looked round and saw by the lurid blaze that an enormous mass of Krakatoa, rent from top to bottom, was falling headlong into the sea; while the entire heavens were alive with flame, lightning, steam, smoke, and the upward-shooting fragments of the hideous wreck!

The hermit calmly rested his paddle on the deck and gazed around in silent wonder.  Nigel, not less smitten with awe, held his paddle with an iron grasp, every muscle quivering with tension in readiness for instant action when the need for action should appear.  Moses, on the other hand, turning round from the sight with glaring eyes, resumed paddling with unreasoning ferocity, and gave vent at once to his feelings and his opinion in the sharp exclamation—­“Blown to bits!”

[Illustration:  BLOWN TO BITS—­PAGE 342.]