CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A TERRIBLE MURDER AND A STRANGE REVELATION.
After letting the chief of the village know that the news just receivedrendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the nexttown--but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest Baderoonshould by any means be led to suspect their intentions--the partystarted off about daybreak under the guidance of the Malay youth Babu.
Anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, Nigel could nothelp wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionablecourage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate.
"I can't understand it at all," he said to Moses, as they walked throughthe forest together a little in rear of the party.
"No more kin I, Massa Nadgel," answered the negro, with one of thoseshakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he waswont to regard matters that were too deep for him.
"Surely Van der Kemp is well able to take care of himself against anysingle foe."
"Das true, Massa Nadgel,--'gainst any half-dozen foes as well."
"Fear, therefore, cannot be the cause."
The negro received this with a quiet chuckle.
"No," said he. "Massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be berysure, massa's _allers_ got good reasons for what he does. One t'ing'ssartin, I neber saw him do nuffin' for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no,nor yet for fun; allers for lub--and," added Moses, after a moment'sthought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition--buthe don't make much account ob dat."
"Well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said Nigel, asthey closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a shortrest and some refreshment.
This last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, anda little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down.
In the afternoon they reached the town--a large one, with a sort ofmarket-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival wascrowded with people. Strangers, especially Europeans, were not oftenseen in that region, so that Van der Kemp and his friends at onceattracted a considerable number of followers. Among these was one manwho followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rearof the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their senseof propriety. This man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round hishead pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with anaccident or been wounded. He was unarmed, with the exception of thekriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries.
This was no other than Baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies,had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried onin advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described,he awaited their arrival.
Babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief manof the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that thepirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. Meanwhilehe appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night.
Baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house,glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellerswhile eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of thebuilding where Van der Kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus takingpossession of his intended couch! He did not, however, see that thehermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that Babu, desiringto be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot.
In the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had soughtrepose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he hadconcealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in whichhis enemy lay.
Native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built onposts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which isavailable as a store or lumber-room. It is also unfortunately availablefor evil purposes. The bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but thatsounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below.Voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested hissteps. They were those of Van der Kemp and Nigel engaged inconversation. Baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake andconversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a positionsuitable to his fell purpose. He crouched therefore among some lumberlike a tiger abiding its time.
"Why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked Nigel, who wasresolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of themystery.
For some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice hesaid slowly--"Because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. I havestriven to crush it, but cannot. I fear to meet him lest I kill him."
"Has he, then, done you such foul wrong?"
"Ay, he has cruelly--fiendishly--done the worst he could. He robbed meof my only child--but I may not talk of it. The unholy desire forvengeance burns more fiercely when I talk. `Vengeance is mine, saiththe Lord.' My constant prayer is that I may not meet him. Good-night."
As the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down anddrew his blanket over him. Nigel followed his example, wondering atwhat he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathingtold that they were both asleep. Then Baderoon advanced and counted thebamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. Whenlooking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planksabove. Standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a fewseconds, and drew his kriss. The place was almost pitch-dark, yet theblade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on thepirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yetdeliberately, between the bamboos.
A shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rangout on the silent night. At the same moment a gush of warm blood pouredover the murderer's face before he could leap aside. Instant uproar andconfusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire untilthe whole town was aroused. When a light was procured and the peoplecrowded into the hut where the strangers lay, Van der Kemp was found onhis knees holding the hand of poor Babu, who was at his last gasp. Afaint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it,flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit'shand and pressed it to his lips. Then the fearful drain of blood tookeffect and he fell back--dead. One great convulsive sob burst from thehermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in hisblue eyes, rushed out of the room.
Vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on Baderoon at that moment ifthe hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, themurderer was nowhere to be found. He was hid in the impenetrablejungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. Whendaybreak enabled the towns-people to undertake an organised search, notrace of him could be discovered.
Flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. Theguilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially amongthe natives of that region, borders close on insanity. While theinhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, Baderoonlay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting hisopportunity. It was not very long of coming.
Towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and allassembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit andhis party, were assembled discussing the situation.
"I will not now proceed until we have buried poor Babu," said Van derKemp. "Besides, Baderoon will be sure to return. I will meet him now."
"I do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "Zee man isnot a fool zough he is a villain. He knows vat avaits him if he comes."
"He will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not nowrest till he has killed me."
Even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, washeard at the other end of the main street. The sounds of uproarappeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushingtowards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word"amok" was heard. At the sound o
f that word numbers of people--specially women and children--turned and fled from the scene, but manyof the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses.Among the latter of course were the white men and their nativecompanions.
We have already referred to that strange madness, to which the Malaysseem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which thoseaffected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right andleft. From the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowdand the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessedof the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them.
Another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped withthe gore of those whom he had already stabbed. Catching sight of thewhite men he made straight for them. He was possessed of only one eye,but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozeneyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gavehim an appalling aspect.
"It is Baderoon!" said Van der Kemp in a subdued but stern tone.
Nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. His face wasdeadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange almost unearthly light, andhis lips were firmly compressed. With a sudden nervous motion, unlikehis usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to Nigel'ssurprise cast it away from him. At that moment a woman who came in themadman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with herdying shriek as she fell. No one could have saved her, the act was soquickly done. Van der Kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it wastoo late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac,recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like atriumphant yell. Seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, aswell as unmoved, regarding Baderoon with a fixed gaze, Nigel stepped apace in advance to protect him, but Van der Kemp seized his arm andthrust him violently aside. Next moment the pirate was upon him withuplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthyof Samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quitestunned.
Before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment heldback, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozenknives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprangforward to protect his enemy from their fury. But the man whose wifehad been the last victim came up at the moment and led an irresistiblerush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowdedround him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces.
"I did not kill him--thank God!" muttered Van der Kemp as he left themarket-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered werewailing over their dead.
After this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, sothat early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending tomake a short stay at the next village. Failing to reach it that night,however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. Fortunately theycame upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so,with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. From thesummit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent viewof the forest. Many of the trees were crowned with flowers among whichthe setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence.
Van der Kemp and Nigel stood together apart from the others,contemplating the wonderful scene.
"What must be the dwelling-place of the Creator Himself when hisfootstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice.
"That is beyond mortal ken," said Nigel.
"True--true. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it.Yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our soulsto the contemplation of the celestial."
"And yet how signally it has failed in the case of Baderoon," returnedNigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quiterecovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "Would it be presumptuousif I were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmityagainst you?"
"It is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "The truth is, Ihad discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have beenthe means of preventing his intended deeds of violence--as in the caseof the Dyaks whom we have so lately visited. Besides, the man had doneme irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of humanexperience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they havedone so."
"May I venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?"said Nigel with some hesitancy.
For some moments the hermit did not answer. He was evidently strugglingwith some suppressed feeling. Turning a look full upon his youngfriend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice--"I have never mentionedmy grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased God to draw acloud of thickest darkness over my life. But, Nigel, there is that inyou which encourages confidence. I confess that more than once I havebeen tempted to tell you of my grief--for human hearts crave intelligentsympathy. My faithful servant and friend Moses is, no doubt, intenselysympathetic, but--but--well, I cannot understand, still less can Iexplain, why I shrink from making a confidant of him. Certainly it isnot because of his colour, for I hold that the _souls_ of men arecolourless!"
"I need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued thehermit. "I lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was leftwith a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that ofher mother every day she lived. My soul was wrapped up in the child.After three years I went with her as a passenger to Batavia. On the waywe were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. Baderoon was the piratecaptain. He killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank thevessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my childinto one junk while I was retained, bound, in the other."
He paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon,with a longing, wistful look. At the same time something like anelectric shock passed through Nigel's frame, for was not this narrativestrangely similar in its main features to that which his own father hadtold him on the Keeling Islands about beautiful little Kathleen Holbeinand her father? He was on the point of seizing the hermit by the handand telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks bypirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might havelost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might bewrong. It would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in hispoor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being wellfounded. He would wait and hear more. He had just come to thisconclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused,when Van der Kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative--"Iknow not how it was, unless the Lord gave me strength for a purpose ashe gave it to Samson of old, but when I recovered from the stinging blowI had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my childscream, I felt the strength of a lion come over me; I burst the bondsthat held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. But itwas otherwise ordained. A breeze which had sprung up freshened, and thejunk soon left me far behind. As for the other junk, I never saw itagain, for I never looked back or thought of it--only, as I left it, Iheard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, I afterwards foundout, owned and commanded both junks."
Nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept himsilent.
"Need I say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in mybreast from that day forward? If I had met the man soon after that, Ishould certainly have slain him. But God mercifully forbade it. Sincethen He has opened my eyes to see the Crucified One who prayed for Hisenemies. And up till now I have prayed most earnestly that Baderoon andI might _not_ meet. My prayer has not been answered in the way Iwished, but a _better_ answer has been granted, for the sin of revengewas overcome within me before we met."
Van der Kemp paused again.
"Go on," said Nigel, eagerly. "How did you escape?"
"Escape! Where was I--Oh! I remember," said the hermit, awaking as ifout of a dream; "Well, I swam after the junk until it was
out of sight,and then I swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted thatI felt consciousness leaving me. Then I knew that the end must be nearand I felt almost glad; but when I began to sink, the natural desire toprolong life revived, and I struggled on. Just as my strength began asecond time to fail, I struck against something. It was a deadcocoa-nut tree. I laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. Nextmorning I was picked up by some fishermen who were going to Telok Betongby the outer passage round Sebesi Island, and were willing to land methere. But as my business connections had been chiefly with the town ofAnjer, I begged of them to land me on the island of Krakatoa. This theydid, and it has been my home ever since. I have been there many years."
"Have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked Nigeleagerly, and with deep sympathy.
"Never--I have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; intothe interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to findher. I have long since felt that she must be dead--for--for she couldnot live with the monsters who stole her away."
A certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of theeyes, suggested to Nigel that revenge was not yet dead within thehermit's breast, although it had been overcome.
"What was her name?" asked Nigel, willing to gain time to think how heought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the suddencommunication of the news might have on his friend.
"Winnie--darling Winnie--after her mother," said the hermit with deeppathos in his tone.
A feeling of disappointment came over our hero. Winnie bore not themost distant resemblance to Kathleen!
"Did you ever, during your search," asked Nigel slowly, "visit theCocos-Keeling Islands?"
"Never. They are too far from where the attack on us was made."
"And you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and--"
"Why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friendin some surprise.
Nigel felt that he had almost gone too far.
"Well, you know--" he replied in some confusion, "you--you are rightwhen you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which I do mostprofoundly, and--and--in short, I would give anything to be able tosuggest hope to you, my friend. Men should _never_ give way todespair."
"Thank you. It is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at theyouth with his sad smile. "But it is vain. Hope is dead now."
They were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper wasready. At the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, anddisappeared beyond the dark forest.
Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago Page 19
