Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIX.

  THE HERMIT OF RAKATA INTRODUCED.

  Nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage alongthe northern shore of Java to Sunda Straits. A fair, steady breezewafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came insight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of Krakatoa.

  The boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a smallportion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friendcould find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep, and fromthe fierce rays of the sun at noon.

  By the advice of his father, Nigel had changed his sailor costume forthe "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the Keeling Islands,as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, awhite cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect hisneck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strongcanvas trousers. He had also purchased an old-fashioneddouble-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussionlocks.

  "For you see, Nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to usebreech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supplyyou wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-waywaters, there's nothin' like the old style. It's not difficult to carrya few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you whereveryou go. As to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere,an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on ityou could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick intoyour gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o'cartridges, where are you?"

  So, as Nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had beenpurchased.

  The peak of Rakata--the highest in the island--a little over 2600 feet,came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of thehorizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable.

  Krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world'shistory; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract thewondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediateneighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of(1883) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundredyears. Its last explosion occurred in the year 1680. Since that dateit had remained quiet. But now the tremendous subterranean forces whichhad originally called it into being were beginning to reassert theirexistence and their power. Vulcan was rousing himself again andbeginning once more to blow his bellows. So said some of the sailorswho were constantly going close past the island and through SundaStraits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to theChina seas.

  Subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or lessviolently in those regions that people took little notice of theseindications in the comparatively small island of Krakatoa, which wasbetween five and six miles long by four broad.

  As we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does betweenSumatra and Java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twentymiles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. Thehermit whom Nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted aninhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cavewhich was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. Howhe spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went tothe neighbouring town of Anjer in Java for supplies, and sometimes toBatavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forestcould have been less communicative than he. Indeed, our hero was thefirst to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterioussympathy to which reference has already been made. Some of the bolderof the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times madefutile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the fewwho got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that akind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at arespectful distance.

  He was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feetbroad, a chest like a sugar-hogs-head, and a countenance resembling acompound of orang-utan and tiger.

  Of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as Moses declinedto give any information regarding his master beyond that already given,he was left to the full play of his imagination.

  Moses was quite candid about it. He made no pretence to shroud thingsin mystery.

  "You mus' know, Massa Nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to theisland, "I's 'fraid ob 'im dough I lub 'im."

  "But why do you love him, Moses?"

  "'Cause he sabe my life an' set me free."

  "Indeed? well, that is good reason. And why do you fear him?"

  "Da's what I don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look.

  "Is he harsh, then?"

  "No."

  "Passionate?"

  "No. Gentle as a lamb."

  "Strong?"

  "Yes--oh! mighty strong an' big."

  "Surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, Moses?"

  "Oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "I'snot 'fraid ob dat. I's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. Don'tcare nuffin' at all for a lickin'!"

  "Then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, Moses, forI know of no other kind of fear."

  "Pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now I wouldn'twonder if you's right, Massa Nadgel. It neber come into my head in datlight before. I used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when I's tired obcountin' my fingers an' toes. But I couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _Now_I knows! It's 'fraid I am ob hurtin' his feelin's."

  In the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standingpuzzle, Moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormousmouth and chuckled.

  By the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near toKrakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began topoint out to Nigel its various localities. There were three prominentpeaks on it, he said, named respectively, Perboewatan, about 400 feethigh, at the northern end of the island; Danan, near the centre, 1500feet; and Rakata, at the southern end, over 2600 feet. It was high upon the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit wassituated.

  "And you won't tell me your master's name?" said Nigel.

  Moses shook his woolly head. "No, sar, no. I's 'fraid ob him--he! he!I 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!"

  "Well, never mind; I'll find it out from himself soon. By the way, whatwere you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little whitegull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?"

  "Well, I dun know. Not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an'grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an'cracks like somet'in' bustin' down b'low, an' massa he shook 'is headtwo or t'ree times an' look solemn. He don't often do dat--shook 'ishead, I mean--for he mostly always looks solemn."

  A few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among therocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards indiameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand.The shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbourmight easily have been passed without being observed.

  Jumping ashore, Moses made the painter fast to a tree.

  "What a quiet, cosy place!" said Nigel, as he sprung on the beach andlooked admiringly round.

  "Yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. We will leabe deboat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave."

  "Is it far?" asked Nigel.

  "A good bit--near de top ob de mountain," answered the negro, who lookedat his companion somewhat uneasily.

  "Why, what's the matter, Moses?"

  "Nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' whatyou bin up to, an' whar you're a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jistyou answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler."

  "Wages! man, what d'ye mean?"

  "Wel
l, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air ofprofound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger likemyself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usualexpeditions jus' now, so he sends me to Batavia to git anoder man--`agood one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to axme what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, I--"

  "You scoundrel!" cried Nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean totell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?"

  "Well, not zackly," returned Moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn'tax no wages unless you like."

  "But what if I don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with asavage frown.

  "You kin go home agin," answered Moses, humbly.

  Nigel could contain himself no longer. As he observed the man'sdeprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit ofhearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled thesmile of the guiltless.

  "Come," said Nigel at last. "Lead on, you rascal! When I see yourmaster I shall know what to say."

  "All right, Massa Nadgel, but mind what you say, else I won't answer forde consikences. Foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road isroughish."

  The negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a merefootpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding roundthe base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest,elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea.

  Moses walked at such a pace that Nigel, young and active though he was,found it no easy matter to keep up with him. Pride, however, forbadehim to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even conversenow and then in tones of simulated placidity. At last the path turnedabruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in asmall shallow cave. Any one following the path out of mere curiositywould have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it;and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a ratheruninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen ata single glance from its mouth.

  But this cave served in reality as a blind. Climbing by one or twoprojecting points, the negro, closely followed by Nigel, reached anarrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. On coming to the endof the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the trackagain became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava.Here the ascent became very steep, and Moses put on what sporting mencall a spurt, which took him far ahead of Nigel, despite the bestefforts of the latter to keep up. Still our hero scorned to run or callout to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. He pushedsteadily on, and managed to keep the active Moses in view.

  Presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on thecliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky.There Nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commandingfigure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions.

  The two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching Nigel. Thelatter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recoverbreath and approach with a leisurely aspect.

  "The wild man of the island, I suppose," he thought as he drew near; buton coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the strangerwho advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession wasobviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort ofmixed travelling and shooting costume.

  "I must apologise, Mr Roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringingyou here under something like false pretences," said the stranger,holding out his hand, which Nigel shook heartily. "Moses, I find, hasfailed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but asyou are now here, the least I can do is to bid you welcome, and offeryou the hospitality of my roof."

  There was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner ofthe stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, whichcontrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive beardedcountenance, that Nigel felt drawn to him instantly. Indeed there was apeculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated ourhero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though Nigelwas, the stranger stood several inches above him.

  "You are very kind," said the visitor, "and I don't think that Moses canfairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhatunwise in his way of going about this business, for I had told him Iwanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to myadvantage to travel in your service--that is, if I can be of any use toyou; but the time at my disposal may be too limited."

  "How much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger.

  "Well, say perhaps three months."

  "That will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at theground. "We will talk of this hereafter."

  "But--excuse me," said Nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sortof--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if I may--"

  "No, I didn't, Massa Nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flatcontradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look.

  "Well," returned Nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me tounderstand that other people said something of that sort."

  "Da's right, Massa Nadgel--kite right. You're k'rect _now_."

  "People have indeed got some strange ideas about me, I believe,"interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone."But come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge foryourself."

  So saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up therugged side of the peak of Rakata.

  After about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot wherethere was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters ofthe strait, with the Java shores and mountains in the distance.

  Behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so blackand high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regionsbelow, where Vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires whichhave moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are everseething--an awful Inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on whichwe stand.

  Curiously-formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with theirpendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below andhanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from Nigel when hefirst turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it inall its rugged grandeur.

  "My home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of aprince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it.

  "A magnificent entrance at all events," said Nigel, returning the smilewith something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host wasin earnest.

  "Follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-wornpath which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. After being afew minutes within the cavern, however, Nigel's eyes became accustomedto the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, whileits walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much widerthan an ordinary corridor. Here, however, it was so dark that it wasbarely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before whichthey halted. Lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and aglare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor.

  Passing through the entrance, Nigel followed his guide, and the negrolet the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressinglysuggestive of a prison.

  "Again I bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round andextending his hand, which Nigel mechanically took and pressed, butwithout very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded bywhat he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him.

  And, truly, there was ground for surprise. The visitor found himself ina small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or naturalchamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery andtrees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stoodinnumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of naturalhistory.


  A table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest ofall, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end.

  "Arabian Nights!" thought Nigel. "I _must_ be dreaming."

  His wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they restedat last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood thenegro with a broad grin on his sable visage.