Chapter Twelve.Weathering a Storm in The Open Sea.In profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. Then Van der Kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather.Nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this “enemy” whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit’s grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed Nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent.“I don’t like the look of the sky,” he said at last. “We are going to have a squall, I fear.”“Had we not better run for the nearest land?” said Nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching.“The nearest island is a good way off,” returned the hermit, “and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won’t help us yet awhile. No, we will continue our course and accept what God sends.”This remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. He ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance—“God sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, Van der Kemp, and the power to take precautions.”“He does, Nigel—therefore I intend to use both the capacity and the power.”There was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed Nigel’s lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark.The night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. This cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. The dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven’s lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. Only the faint gleam of Krakatoa’s threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears.It was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and Nigel—as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea—might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father’s brig. His feelings were by no means relieved when Van der Kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone—“The steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. They come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time.”“But should we not hear them coming a long way off?” asked Nigel.“Ay. It is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well.”As he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the fore-hatch and took out a small sail which he asked Nigel to pass aft to the negro.“Close-reef it, Moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. After that we will lay-to.”“All right, massa,” said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. “Don’ forgit Spinkie, massa.”“You may be sure I won’t do that,” replied the hermit. “Come along, monkey!”Evidently Van der Kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. Nigel could not see this—not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit’s bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark—“That’s a good little fellow. Keep your head down, now, while I shut you in!”From the same place Van der Kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe—running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck—while Moses was busy reefing the mainsail.From the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoemen, the tails thrust below deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water.“Now, Nigel,” said the hermit, “unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. Moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. The thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. I attend to the foresail and Moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. All I ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here—but I doubt not that such a caution is needless.”“I’ll do my best,” said Nigel.By this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. The tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while Moses steered by means of his paddle.“You have put Spinkie down below, I think,” said Nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit’s extreme tenderness and care of the little creature.“Yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. I nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather I put him below.”“Is he not apt to be suffocated?” asked Nigel. “With everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also.”“I see you have a mechanical turn of mind,” returned the hermit. “You are right. Yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. Nevertheless, I have made provision for that. There is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. Thus free circulation of air is established below deck.”Suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward.“Look out, Moses,” said Van der Kemp. “There it comes. Let go the sheet. Keep good hold of your paddle, Nigel.”The warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe’s head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water.“Lower the mainsail!” shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening.Nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. The hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. He then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided Moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. For a few minutes this was all that could be done. Then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. Soon the waves began to rise.The mere keeping of the canoe’s head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while Nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. Of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments.No word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. As this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale’s back.Then there came a momentary lull.“Now, Moses—’bout ship!” shouted Van der Kemp. “Stand by, Nigel!”“Ay, ay, sir.”Although the canoe was long—and therefore unfitted to turn quickly—the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves.“Hoist away, Nigel! We must run right before it now.”Up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. All sense of danger was now overwhelmed in Nigel’s mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. This was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night.By degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected.“A’most too much, massa,” said the negro in a suggestive shout.“Right, Moses,” returned his master. “I was just thinking we must risk it.”“Risk what? I wonder,” thought Nigel.He had not long to wait for an answer to his thought.“Down wi’ the mainsail,” was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. Soon even this was lowered, and Van der Kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling Nigel to unship the mast.“And plug the hole with that,” he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck.Watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and Nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation.“Keep her so, Moses. You can help with your paddle, Nigel, while I get ready our anchor.”“Anchor!” exclaimed our hero in amazement—obeying orders, however, at the same moment.The hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. He quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. These he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,—one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow—and tossed it into the sea—paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor—if it may be so called—in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale.It was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. Being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end!Whilst in this attitude—so like to that of prayer—Nigel almost naturally thought of Him who holds the water in the hollow of His hand, and lifted his soul to God; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the Almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. What the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but Moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that “dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey’d had since dey come to lib at Krakatoa, an’ he had bery nigh giben up in despair!”The use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. In spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck’s back. Of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as Moses remarked, “was not’ing to speak ob.”Thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. Now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. They hardly knew when day broke. It was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful.It may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. At last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. Then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. Before noon, however, it had subsided so much that Moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. To this Van der Kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished.When the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. Then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. Soon after that Van der Kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the fore-hold, and Spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. Gradually the wind went down. Reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea.
In profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. Then Van der Kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather.
Nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this “enemy” whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit’s grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed Nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent.
“I don’t like the look of the sky,” he said at last. “We are going to have a squall, I fear.”
“Had we not better run for the nearest land?” said Nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching.
“The nearest island is a good way off,” returned the hermit, “and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won’t help us yet awhile. No, we will continue our course and accept what God sends.”
This remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. He ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance—
“God sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, Van der Kemp, and the power to take precautions.”
“He does, Nigel—therefore I intend to use both the capacity and the power.”
There was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed Nigel’s lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark.
The night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. This cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. The dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven’s lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. Only the faint gleam of Krakatoa’s threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears.
It was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and Nigel—as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea—might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father’s brig. His feelings were by no means relieved when Van der Kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone—
“The steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. They come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time.”
“But should we not hear them coming a long way off?” asked Nigel.
“Ay. It is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well.”
As he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the fore-hatch and took out a small sail which he asked Nigel to pass aft to the negro.
“Close-reef it, Moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. After that we will lay-to.”
“All right, massa,” said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. “Don’ forgit Spinkie, massa.”
“You may be sure I won’t do that,” replied the hermit. “Come along, monkey!”
Evidently Van der Kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. Nigel could not see this—not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit’s bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark—
“That’s a good little fellow. Keep your head down, now, while I shut you in!”
From the same place Van der Kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe—running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck—while Moses was busy reefing the mainsail.
From the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoemen, the tails thrust below deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water.
“Now, Nigel,” said the hermit, “unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. Moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. The thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. I attend to the foresail and Moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. All I ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here—but I doubt not that such a caution is needless.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Nigel.
By this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. The tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while Moses steered by means of his paddle.
“You have put Spinkie down below, I think,” said Nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit’s extreme tenderness and care of the little creature.
“Yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. I nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather I put him below.”
“Is he not apt to be suffocated?” asked Nigel. “With everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also.”
“I see you have a mechanical turn of mind,” returned the hermit. “You are right. Yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. Nevertheless, I have made provision for that. There is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. Thus free circulation of air is established below deck.”
Suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward.
“Look out, Moses,” said Van der Kemp. “There it comes. Let go the sheet. Keep good hold of your paddle, Nigel.”
The warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe’s head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water.
“Lower the mainsail!” shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening.
Nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. The hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. He then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided Moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. For a few minutes this was all that could be done. Then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. Soon the waves began to rise.
The mere keeping of the canoe’s head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while Nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. Of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments.
No word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. As this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale’s back.
Then there came a momentary lull.
“Now, Moses—’bout ship!” shouted Van der Kemp. “Stand by, Nigel!”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
Although the canoe was long—and therefore unfitted to turn quickly—the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves.
“Hoist away, Nigel! We must run right before it now.”
Up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. All sense of danger was now overwhelmed in Nigel’s mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. This was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night.
By degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected.
“A’most too much, massa,” said the negro in a suggestive shout.
“Right, Moses,” returned his master. “I was just thinking we must risk it.”
“Risk what? I wonder,” thought Nigel.
He had not long to wait for an answer to his thought.
“Down wi’ the mainsail,” was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. Soon even this was lowered, and Van der Kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling Nigel to unship the mast.
“And plug the hole with that,” he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck.
Watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and Nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation.
“Keep her so, Moses. You can help with your paddle, Nigel, while I get ready our anchor.”
“Anchor!” exclaimed our hero in amazement—obeying orders, however, at the same moment.
The hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. He quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. These he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,—one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow—and tossed it into the sea—paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor—if it may be so called—in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale.
It was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. Being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end!
Whilst in this attitude—so like to that of prayer—Nigel almost naturally thought of Him who holds the water in the hollow of His hand, and lifted his soul to God; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the Almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. What the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but Moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that “dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey’d had since dey come to lib at Krakatoa, an’ he had bery nigh giben up in despair!”
The use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. In spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck’s back. Of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as Moses remarked, “was not’ing to speak ob.”
Thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. Now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. They hardly knew when day broke. It was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful.
It may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. At last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. Then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. Before noon, however, it had subsided so much that Moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. To this Van der Kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished.
When the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. Then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. Soon after that Van der Kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the fore-hold, and Spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. Gradually the wind went down. Reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea.
Chapter Thirteen.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 ere long 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 ob 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 his-self. 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 farther 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 Hong Kong 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 such 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 reveal 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 upsomeo’ 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 strongMus’ do deir best, wid all de rest, to rollde 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, etcetera.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, etcetera.So keep de ball a-rollin’, boys, an’ each one do his bestTo 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 do same to you.Chorus—Oh when de sun, etcetera.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 sayrootsadvisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aerial 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.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 todo 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; Imustgo forward to save the life of my friend. I mustnotleave 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—widoutdis.”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 cannotsee, 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 aboutmyskull, Moses? Is there a bulkhead between it andyourheels?”“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.
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 ere long 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 ob 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 his-self. 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 farther 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 Hong Kong 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 such 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 reveal 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 upsomeo’ 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 strongMus’ do deir best, wid all de rest, to rollde 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, etcetera.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, etcetera.So keep de ball a-rollin’, boys, an’ each one do his bestTo 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 do same to you.Chorus—Oh when de sun, etcetera.
“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 strongMus’ do deir best, wid all de rest, to rollde 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, etcetera.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, etcetera.So keep de ball a-rollin’, boys, an’ each one do his bestTo 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 do same to you.Chorus—Oh when de sun, etcetera.
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 sayrootsadvisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aerial 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.
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 todo 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; Imustgo forward to save the life of my friend. I mustnotleave 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—widoutdis.”
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 cannotsee, 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 aboutmyskull, Moses? Is there a bulkhead between it andyourheels?”
“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.
Chapter Fourteen.A New Friend found—New Dangers encountered and New Hopes Delayed.When grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, Nigel Roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. Stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of Van der Kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused Moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke Spinkie. It was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro’s bosom.With the alacrity peculiar to his race, Spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows.Dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. Speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. The silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. To all appearance it seemed about to speak—but it didn’t.Pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end.All day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. Towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. The low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream.On rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. Under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. The monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. The boy was a Dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. The man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-European shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles.Something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative Van der Kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. The nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy.“He seems to know you,” remarked Nigel, as they made for a landing-place.“Yes. He is the friend I have come to rescue,” replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. “He is a naturalist and lives with the Rajah against whom the pirates are plotting.”“He don’t look z’if he needs much rescuin’,” remarked Moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land.The man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb.“Ah! mein frond! mine brodder!” he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic English, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of Dutch, American, and Malay. His language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. In fact he was an American-born Dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the Straits Settlements, had received most of his education in Hong Kong, was an old school-fellow of Van der Kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. Owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed Professor by his friends.“Ach! Van der Kemp,” he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, “vata bootterfly I saw to-day! It beat all creation! The vay it flew—oh! But, excuse me—v’ere did you come from, and vy do you come? An’ who is your frond?”He turned to Nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow.“An Englishman—Nigel Roy—who has joined me for a few months,” said the hermit. “Let me introduce you, Nigel, to my good friend, Professor Verkimier.”Nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist’s a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot—a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the English youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies.“Ve vill hont an’ shot togezzer, mine frond,” he said, on making this discovery, “ant I vill show you v’ere de best bootterflies are to be fount—Oh! sooch a von as I saw to—but, excuse me, Van der Kemp. Vy you come here joost now?”“To saveyou,” said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile.“To safeme!” exclaimed Verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. “Vell, I don’t feel to vant safing joost at present.”“It is not that danger threatensyouso much as your friend the Rajah,” returned the hermit. “But if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. I happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so I have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. You know I have received much kindness from the Rajah, so I could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time.”While the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. Replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking.“Are zee raskils near?” he asked, sternly.“No. We have come on many days ahead of them. But we found a party at the river’s mouth awaiting their arrival.”“Ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?”“Probably not—even though they had fair and steady winds.”A sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist’s moustache on hearing this.“Zen I vill—vevill, you and I, Mister Roy,—go after ze bootterflies to-morrow!”“But we must push on,” remonstrated Van der Kemp, “for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon.”“Youmay push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but I vill not leave zee bootterflies. You know vell zat I vill die—if need be—for zee Rajah. Ve must all die vonce, at least, and I should like to die—if I must die—in a goot cause. What cause better zan frondship? But you say joost now zere is no dancher. Vell, I vill go ant see zee bootterflies to-morrow. After zat, I will go ant die—if it must be—with zee!”“I heartily applaud your sentiment,” said Nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the Dyak youth and Moses had prepared, “and if Van der Kemp will give me leave of absence I will gladly keep you company.”“Zank you. Pass round zee victuals. My appetite is strong. It always vas more or less strong. Vat say you, Van der Kemp?”“I have no objection. Moses and I can easily take the canoe up the river. There are no rapids, and it is not far to the Rajah’s village; so you are welcome to go, Nigel.”“Das de most ’straord’nary craze I eber know’d men inflicted wid!” said Moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the Dyak boy. “It passes my compr’ension what fun dey find runnin’ like child’n arter butterflies, an’ beetles, an’ sitch like varmint. My massa am de wisest man on eart’, yethego a little wild dat way too—sometimes!”Moses looked at the Dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the Dyak boy did not understand English, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing.Next morning Nigel entered the forest under the guidance of Verkimier and the Dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master’s arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. It was a new experience to Nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. In some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. The gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. Then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. But the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage.The abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly.“Ah! zey are magnificent!” exclaimed Verkimier with enthusiasm. “Look at zat tree-fern. You have not’ing like zat in England—eh! I have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. Zen, look at zee fruit-trees. Ve have here, you see, zee Lansat, Mangosteen, Rambutan, Jack, Jambon, Blimbing ant many ozers—but zee queen of fruits is zee Durian. Have you tasted zee Durian?”“No, not yet.”“Ha! a new sensation is before you! Stay, you vill eat von by ant by. Look, zat is a Durian tree before you.”He pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which Mr A.R. Wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. The fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man’s head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. Only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. There are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside.There is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! Says one—writing of the sixteenth century—“It is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world.” Another writes: “This fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food.” Wallace himself says of it: “When brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. This was my own case in Malacca, but in Borneo I found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, I at once became a confirmed Durian-eater!”This was exactly the experience of Nigel Roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. It happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. Verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side—for there was a strong mutual affection between them. The Dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders.Suddenly Nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. It was a ripe Durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth.“Zank Got, you have escaped!” exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance.“I have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow,” said Nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow.“Come—come avay. My boy vill bring it. Men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. Here now ve vill dine.”They sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. While the boy was arranging their meal, Verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and, applying it with an unusually strong hand to the Durian, laid it open. Nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. He tasted—and, like Mr Wallace, “became a confirmed Durian-eater” from that day.“Ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee bootterflies,” said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon.“I hope we shall be successful,” said Nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled Durian cream. “To judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, I should think a blow on one’s head from it would be fatal.”“Sometimes, not always. I suppose zat Dyak skulls are strong. But zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. Zee Dyak chief, Rajah, with whom I dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die—but he did not. He is alife ant vell, as you shall see.”As he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. With all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted specimen, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground.“Zat comes of too much horry!” he remarked, as he picked up his glasses and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. “Mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!”“I shall learn two lessons,” said Nigel, laughing—“first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy, if I can, your admirable enthusiasm.”“You are very goot. Some more cheekin’ if you please. Zanks. Ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork.”The grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of God was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the Dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey.It must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. Thus he ascended the tall Durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes—an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds.“Zat is zee pitcher-plant,” said Verkimier, as Nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. He was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. Some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. The plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water.Resuming the march Nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. Some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. But, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in Borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. There were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest.One tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions!Nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence.“Zat,” exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, “zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!”“It looks as if it had,” returned Nigel; “I have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. How came it to grow in this way?”“I know not. It is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. Zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. Ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support—zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. Ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! Com’, ve must feed here,” said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, “I had expected to find zee bootterflies sooner. It cannot be helped. Let us make zis our banqueting-hall. Ve vill have a Durian to refresh us, ant here is a handy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.—Go,” he added, turning to the orang-utan, “and send down von or two.”The creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. Evidently it was a lazy monkey.“Do you hear?” said Verkimier, sternly.The orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go.Turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal’s face.This was more than it could stand. With a very bad grace it hobbled off to the Durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out.“My little frond is obstinate sometimes,” remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, “but ven I bring my glasses to bear on him he always gives in, I never found zem fail. Come now; eat, an’ ve vill go to vork again. Ve must certainly find zee bootterflies somevere before night.”But Verkimier was wrong. It was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a Dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the Rajah to order their immediate return to the village.“Alas! ve most go. It is dancherous to disobey zee Rajah—ant I am sorry—very sorry—zat I cannot show you zee bootterflies to-day. No matter.—Go,” (to the Dyak youth), “tell your chief ve vill come. Better lock zee next time!”
When grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, Nigel Roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. Stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of Van der Kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused Moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke Spinkie. It was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro’s bosom.
With the alacrity peculiar to his race, Spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows.
Dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. Speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. The silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. To all appearance it seemed about to speak—but it didn’t.
Pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end.
All day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. Towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. The low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream.
On rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. Under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. The monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. The boy was a Dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. The man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-European shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles.
Something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative Van der Kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. The nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy.
“He seems to know you,” remarked Nigel, as they made for a landing-place.
“Yes. He is the friend I have come to rescue,” replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. “He is a naturalist and lives with the Rajah against whom the pirates are plotting.”
“He don’t look z’if he needs much rescuin’,” remarked Moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land.
The man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb.
“Ah! mein frond! mine brodder!” he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic English, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of Dutch, American, and Malay. His language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. In fact he was an American-born Dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the Straits Settlements, had received most of his education in Hong Kong, was an old school-fellow of Van der Kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. Owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed Professor by his friends.
“Ach! Van der Kemp,” he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, “vata bootterfly I saw to-day! It beat all creation! The vay it flew—oh! But, excuse me—v’ere did you come from, and vy do you come? An’ who is your frond?”
He turned to Nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow.
“An Englishman—Nigel Roy—who has joined me for a few months,” said the hermit. “Let me introduce you, Nigel, to my good friend, Professor Verkimier.”
Nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist’s a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot—a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the English youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies.
“Ve vill hont an’ shot togezzer, mine frond,” he said, on making this discovery, “ant I vill show you v’ere de best bootterflies are to be fount—Oh! sooch a von as I saw to—but, excuse me, Van der Kemp. Vy you come here joost now?”
“To saveyou,” said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile.
“To safeme!” exclaimed Verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. “Vell, I don’t feel to vant safing joost at present.”
“It is not that danger threatensyouso much as your friend the Rajah,” returned the hermit. “But if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. I happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so I have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. You know I have received much kindness from the Rajah, so I could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time.”
While the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. Replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking.
“Are zee raskils near?” he asked, sternly.
“No. We have come on many days ahead of them. But we found a party at the river’s mouth awaiting their arrival.”
“Ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?”
“Probably not—even though they had fair and steady winds.”
A sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist’s moustache on hearing this.
“Zen I vill—vevill, you and I, Mister Roy,—go after ze bootterflies to-morrow!”
“But we must push on,” remonstrated Van der Kemp, “for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon.”
“Youmay push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but I vill not leave zee bootterflies. You know vell zat I vill die—if need be—for zee Rajah. Ve must all die vonce, at least, and I should like to die—if I must die—in a goot cause. What cause better zan frondship? But you say joost now zere is no dancher. Vell, I vill go ant see zee bootterflies to-morrow. After zat, I will go ant die—if it must be—with zee!”
“I heartily applaud your sentiment,” said Nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the Dyak youth and Moses had prepared, “and if Van der Kemp will give me leave of absence I will gladly keep you company.”
“Zank you. Pass round zee victuals. My appetite is strong. It always vas more or less strong. Vat say you, Van der Kemp?”
“I have no objection. Moses and I can easily take the canoe up the river. There are no rapids, and it is not far to the Rajah’s village; so you are welcome to go, Nigel.”
“Das de most ’straord’nary craze I eber know’d men inflicted wid!” said Moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the Dyak boy. “It passes my compr’ension what fun dey find runnin’ like child’n arter butterflies, an’ beetles, an’ sitch like varmint. My massa am de wisest man on eart’, yethego a little wild dat way too—sometimes!”
Moses looked at the Dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the Dyak boy did not understand English, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing.
Next morning Nigel entered the forest under the guidance of Verkimier and the Dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master’s arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. It was a new experience to Nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. In some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. The gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. Then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. But the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage.
The abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly.
“Ah! zey are magnificent!” exclaimed Verkimier with enthusiasm. “Look at zat tree-fern. You have not’ing like zat in England—eh! I have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. Zen, look at zee fruit-trees. Ve have here, you see, zee Lansat, Mangosteen, Rambutan, Jack, Jambon, Blimbing ant many ozers—but zee queen of fruits is zee Durian. Have you tasted zee Durian?”
“No, not yet.”
“Ha! a new sensation is before you! Stay, you vill eat von by ant by. Look, zat is a Durian tree before you.”
He pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which Mr A.R. Wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. The fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man’s head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. Only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. There are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside.
There is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! Says one—writing of the sixteenth century—“It is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world.” Another writes: “This fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food.” Wallace himself says of it: “When brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. This was my own case in Malacca, but in Borneo I found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, I at once became a confirmed Durian-eater!”
This was exactly the experience of Nigel Roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. It happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. Verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side—for there was a strong mutual affection between them. The Dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders.
Suddenly Nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. It was a ripe Durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth.
“Zank Got, you have escaped!” exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance.
“I have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow,” said Nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow.
“Come—come avay. My boy vill bring it. Men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. Here now ve vill dine.”
They sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. While the boy was arranging their meal, Verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and, applying it with an unusually strong hand to the Durian, laid it open. Nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. He tasted—and, like Mr Wallace, “became a confirmed Durian-eater” from that day.
“Ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee bootterflies,” said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon.
“I hope we shall be successful,” said Nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled Durian cream. “To judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, I should think a blow on one’s head from it would be fatal.”
“Sometimes, not always. I suppose zat Dyak skulls are strong. But zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. Zee Dyak chief, Rajah, with whom I dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die—but he did not. He is alife ant vell, as you shall see.”
As he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. With all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted specimen, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground.
“Zat comes of too much horry!” he remarked, as he picked up his glasses and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. “Mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!”
“I shall learn two lessons,” said Nigel, laughing—“first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy, if I can, your admirable enthusiasm.”
“You are very goot. Some more cheekin’ if you please. Zanks. Ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork.”
The grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of God was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the Dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey.
It must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. Thus he ascended the tall Durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes—an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds.
“Zat is zee pitcher-plant,” said Verkimier, as Nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. He was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. Some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. The plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water.
Resuming the march Nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. Some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. But, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in Borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. There were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest.
One tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions!
Nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence.
“Zat,” exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, “zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!”
“It looks as if it had,” returned Nigel; “I have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. How came it to grow in this way?”
“I know not. It is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. Zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. Ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support—zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. Ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! Com’, ve must feed here,” said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, “I had expected to find zee bootterflies sooner. It cannot be helped. Let us make zis our banqueting-hall. Ve vill have a Durian to refresh us, ant here is a handy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.—Go,” he added, turning to the orang-utan, “and send down von or two.”
The creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. Evidently it was a lazy monkey.
“Do you hear?” said Verkimier, sternly.
The orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go.
Turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal’s face.
This was more than it could stand. With a very bad grace it hobbled off to the Durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out.
“My little frond is obstinate sometimes,” remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, “but ven I bring my glasses to bear on him he always gives in, I never found zem fail. Come now; eat, an’ ve vill go to vork again. Ve must certainly find zee bootterflies somevere before night.”
But Verkimier was wrong. It was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a Dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the Rajah to order their immediate return to the village.
“Alas! ve most go. It is dancherous to disobey zee Rajah—ant I am sorry—very sorry—zat I cannot show you zee bootterflies to-day. No matter.—Go,” (to the Dyak youth), “tell your chief ve vill come. Better lock zee next time!”