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

Chapter Thirty
Coming Events, etcetera—Wonderful Changes among the Islands

Some days after the wreck of the Sunshine, as described in a previous chapter, Captain Roy and his son stood on the coast of Java not far from the ruins of Anjer. A vessel was anchored in the offing, and a little boat lay on the shore.

All sign of elemental strife had passed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of Krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping—to awake, perchance, after a nap of another 200 years.

“Well, father,” said our hero with a modest look, “it may be, as you suggest, that Winnie Van der Kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water—”

“I did not say salt water, lad, I said bilge—a fathom o’ bilge water,” interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little Cocos-Keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship.

“It matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference,” returned the son with a smile. “But all I can say is that I care for Winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world—and we have had some experience lately of what the want of that means.”

“Nonsense, Nigel,” returned the captain severely. “You’re workin’ yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin’ regions again—which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi’ Krakatoa dust by this time. Come down out o’ that if ye want to hold or’nary intercourse wi’ your old father. She’s far too young yet, my boy. You must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her.”

“Forget her!” returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes assume when listening to foolish suggestions. “I could almost as easily forget my mother!”

“A very proper sentiment, Nigel, very—especially the ‘almost’ part of it.”

“Besides,” continued the son, “she is not so very young—and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. Moreover, I too am young. I can wait.”

“The selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption,” said the captain. “How d’ee know she will wait?”

“I don’t know, father, but I hope she will—I—think she will.”

“Nigel,” said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, “have you ever spoken to her about love?”

“No, father.”

“Has she ever spoken to you?”

“No—at least—not with her lips.”

“Come, boy, you’re humbuggin’ your old father. Her tongue couldn’t well do it without the lips lendin’ a hand.”

“Well then—with neither,” returned the son. “She spoke with her eyes—not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control.”

“Hm! I see—reef-point-patterin’ poetics again! An’ what did she say with her eyes!”

“Really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you’ll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain real poetess, perhaps—”

“Ah! you dog! you have me there. But how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin’ on nothin’?”

“I don’t think of doing so. Am I not a first mate with a handsome salary?”

“No, lad, you’re not. You’re nothin’ better than a seaman out o’ work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!”

“That’s true,” returned Nigel with a laugh. “But is not the cargo of the said ship safe in Batavia? Has not its owner a good bank account in England? Won’t another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pass over his own son, who is such a competent seaman—according to your own showing? Come, father, I turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter.”

“Well, I will, my boy, I will,” said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. “But, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue—ay, and on your eyes too—till three points are considered an’ made quite clear. First, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. Second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. For better or for worse. No undoin’ that knot, Nigel, once it’s fairly tied! And, third, you must make quite sure that Winnie is sure of her own mind, an’ that—that—”

“We’re all sure all round, father. Quite right. I agree with you. ‘All fair an’ aboveboard’ should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. But, will you explain how I am to make sure of Winnie’s state of mind without asking her about it?”

“Well, I don’t exactly see my way,” replied the captain slowly. “What d’ee say to my soundin’ her on the subject?”

“Couldn’t think of it! You may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn’t sound the depths of a young girl’s heart. I must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed.”

“So be it, lad. The only embargo that I lay upon you is—haul off, and mind you don’t let your figurehead go by the board. Meanwhile, here comes the boat. Now, Nigel, none o’ your courtin’ till everything is settled and the wind fair—dead aft my lad, and blowin’ stiff. You and the hermit are goin’ off to Krakatoa to-day, I suppose?”

“Yes. I am just now waiting for him and Moses,” returned Nigel.

“Is Winnie going?”

“Don’t know. I hope so.”

“Humph! Well, if we have a fair wind I shall soon be in Batavia,” said the captain, descending to business matters, “and I expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as well as that part o’ the return cargo which I had bought before I left for Keeling—at a loss, no doubt, but that don’t matter much. Then I’ll come back here by the first craft that offers—arter which. Ay!—Ay! shove her in here. Plenty o’ water.”

The last remark was made to the seaman who steered the boat sent from the vessel in the offing.

A short time thereafter Captain Roy was sailing away for Batavia, while his son, with Van der Kemp, Moses, Winnie, and Spinkie, was making for Krakatoa in a native boat.

The hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. Winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. As for Moses—time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit.

“Now you keep still,” he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to Spinkie. “If you keep fidgitin’ about you’ll capsize de boat. You hear?”

Spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while Winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat.

Mindful of his father’s warning, Nigel did his best to “haul off” and to prevent his “figurehead” from going “by the board.” But he found it uncommonly hard work, for Winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery.

“Dear little thing,” said Winnie, putting her hand on Spinkie’s little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail.

Spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from Moses and bestow it on Winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment’s reflection.

“O that I were a monkey!” thought Nigel, paraphrasing Shakespeare, “that I might—” but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments!

There was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to Winnie without having a right to touch her hand! Who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances?

“Mos’ awrful hot!” remarked Moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You hot!” said Nigel in surprise. “I thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you.”

“Dat’s your ignerance,” returned Moses calmly. “Us niggers, you see, ought to suffer more fro’ heat dan you whites.”

“How so?”

“Why, don’t your flossiphers say dat black am better dan white for ’tractin’ heat, an’ ain’t our skins black? I wish we’d bin’ born white as chalk. I say, Massa Nadgel, seems to me dat dere’s not much left ob Krakatoa.”

They had approached near enough to the island by that time to perceive that wonderful changes had indeed taken place, and Van der Kemp, who had been for some time silently absorbed in contemplation, at last turned to his daughter and said—

“I had feared at first, Winnie, that my old home had been blown entirely away, but I see now that the Peak of Rakata still stands, so perhaps I may yet show you the cave in which I have spent so many years.”

“But why did you go to live in such a strange place, dear father?” asked the girl, laying her hand lovingly on the hermit’s arm.

Van der Kemp did not reply at once. He gazed in his child’s face with an increase of that absent air and far-away look which Nigel, ever since he met him, had observed as one of his characteristics. At this time an anxious thought crossed him,—that perhaps the blows which his friend had received on his head when he was thrown on the deck of the Sunshine might have injured his brain.

“It is not easy to answer your question, dear one,” he said after a time, laying his strong hand on the girl’s head, and smoothing her luxuriant hair which hung in the untrammelled freedom of nature over her shoulders. “I have felt sometimes, during the last few days, as if I were awaking out of a long long dream, or recovering from a severe illness in which delirium had played a prominent part. Even now, though I see and touch you, I sometimes tremble lest I should really awake and find that it is all a dream. I have so often—so very often—dreamed something like it in years gone by, but never so vividly as now! I cannot doubt—it is sin to doubt—that my prayers have been at last answered. God is good and wise. He knows what is best and does not fail in bringing the best to pass. Yet I have doubted Him—again and again.”

Van der Kemp paused here and drew his hand across his brow as if to clear away sad memories of the past, while Winnie drew closer to him and looked up tenderly in his face.

“When your mother died, dear one,” he resumed, “it seemed to me as if the sun had left the heavens, and when you were snatched from me, it was as though my soul had fled and nought but animal life remained. I lived as if in a terrible dream. I cannot recall exactly what I did or where I went for a long, long time. I know I wandered through the archipelago looking for you, because I did not believe at first that you were dead. It was at this time I took up my abode in the cave of Rakata, and fell in with my good faithful friend Moses.”

“Your sarvint, massa,” interrupted the negro humbly. “I’s proud to be call your frind, but I’s only your sarvint, massa.”

“Truly you have been my faithful servant, Moses,” said Van der Kemp, “but not the less have you been my trusted friend. He nursed me through a long and severe illness, Winnie. How long, I am not quite sure. After a time I nearly lost hope. Then there came a very dark period, when I was forced to believe that you must be dead. Yet, strange to say, even during this dark time I did not cease to pray and to wander about in search of you. I suppose it was the force of habit, for hope seemed to have died. Then, at last, Nigel found you. God used him as His instrument. And now, praise to His name, we are reunited—for ever!”

“Darling father!” were the only words that Winnie could utter as she laid her head on the hermit’s shoulder and wept for joy.

Two ideas, which had not occurred to him before, struck Nigel with great force at that moment. The one was that whatever or wherever his future household should be established, if Winnie was to be its chief ornament, her father must of necessity become a member of it. The other idea was that he was destined to possess a negro servant with a consequent and unavoidable monkey attendant! How strange the links of which the chain of human destiny is formed, and how wonderful the powers of thought by which that chain is occasionally forecast! How to convey all these possessions to England and get them comfortably settled there was a problem which he did not care to tackle just then.

“See, Winnie,” said Van der Kemp, pointing with interest to a mark on the side of Rakata, “yonder is the mouth of my cave. I never saw it so clearly before because of the trees and bushes, but everything seems now to have been burnt up.”

“Das so, massa, an’ what hasn’t bin bu’nt up has bin blow’d up!” remarked the negro.

“Looks very like it, Moses, unless that is a haze which enshrouds the rest of the island,” rejoined the other, shading his eyes with his hands.

It was no haze, however; for they found, on drawing nearer, that the greater part of Krakatoa had, as we have already said, actually disappeared from the face of the earth.

When the boat finally rounded the point which hid the northern part of the island from view, a sight was presented which it is not often given to human eyes to look upon. The whole mountain named the Peak of Rakata, (2623 feet high), had been split from top to bottom, and about one-half of it, with all that part of the island lying to the northward, had been blown away, leaving a wall or almost sheer precipice which presented a grand section of the volcano.

Pushing their boat into a creek at the base of this precipice, the party landed and tried to reach a position from which a commanding view might be obtained. This was not an easy matter, for there was not a spot for a foot to rest on which was not covered deeply with pumice-dust and ashes. By dint of perseverance, however, they gained a ledge whence the surrounding district could be observed, and then it was clearly seen how widespread and stupendous the effects of the explosion had been.

Where the greater part of the richly wooded island had formerly flourished, the ocean now rippled in the sunshine, and of the smaller islands around it Lang Island had been considerably increased in bulk as well as in height. Verleden Island had been enlarged to more than three times its former size and also much increased in height. The island named Polish Hat had disappeared altogether, and two entirely new islets—afterwards named Steers and Calmeyer Islands—had arisen to the northward.

“Now, friends,” said Van der Kemp, after they had noted and commented on the vast and wonderful changes that had taken place, “we will pull round to our cave and see what has happened there.”

Descending to the boat they rowed round the southern shores of Rakata until they reached the little harbour where the boat and canoe had formerly been kept.

Chapter Thirty One
Ends with a Struggle between Inclination and Duty

“Cave’s blowed away too!” was the first remark of Moses as they rowed into the little port.

A shock of disappointment was experienced by Winnie, for she fancied that the negro had referred to her father’s old home, but he only meant the lower cave in which the canoe had formerly been kept. She was soon relieved as to this point, however, but, when a landing was effected, difficulties that seemed to her almost insurmountable presented themselves, for the ground was covered knee-deep with pumice-dust, and the road to the upper cave was blocked by rugged masses of lava and ashes, all heaped up in indescribable confusion.

On careful investigation, however, it was found that after passing a certain point the footpath was almost unencumbered by volcanic débris. This was owing to the protection afforded to it by the cone of Rakata, and the almost overhanging nature of some of the cliffs on that side of the mountain; still the track was bad enough, and in places so rugged, that Winnie, vigorous and agile though she was, found it both difficult and fatiguing to advance. Seeing this, her father proposed to carry her, but she laughingly declined the proposal.

Whereupon Nigel offered to lend her a hand over the rougher places, but this she also declined.

Then Moses, stepping forward, asserted his rights.

“It’s my business,” he said, “to carry t’ings when dey’s got to be carried. M’r’over, as I’s bin obleeged to leabe Spinkie in charge ob de boat, I feels okard widout somet’ing to carry, an’ you ain’t much heavier dan Spinkie, Miss Winnie—so, come along.”

He stooped with the intention of grasping Winnie as if she were a little child, but with a light laugh the girl sprang away and left Moses behind.

“’S’my opinion,” said Moses, looking after her with a grin, “dat if de purfesser was here he’d net her in mistook for a bufferfly. Dar!—she’s down!” he shouted, springing forward, but Nigel was before him.

Winnie had tripped and fallen.

“Are you hurt, dear—child?” asked Nigel, raising her gently.

“Oh no! only a little shaken,” answered Winnie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical. “I am strong enough to go on presently.”

“Nay, my child, you must suffer yourself to be carried at this part,” said Van der Kemp. “Take her up, Nigel, you are stronger than I am now. I would not have asked you to do it before my accident!”

Our hero did not need a second bidding. Grasping Winnie in his strong arms he raised her as if she had been a feather, and strode away at a pace so rapid that he soon left Van der Kemp and Moses far behind.

“Put me down, now,” said Winnie, after a little while, in a low voice. “I’m quite recovered now and can walk.”

“Nay, Winnie, you are mistaken. The path is very rough yet, and the dust gets deeper as we ascend. Do give me the pleasure of helping you a little longer.”

Whatever Winnie may have felt or thought she said nothing, and Nigel, taking silence for consent, bore her swiftly onward and upward,—with an “Excelsior” spirit that would have thrown the Alpine youth with the banner and the strange device considerably into the shade,—until he placed her at the yawning black mouth of the hermit’s cave.

But what a change was there! The trees and flowering shrubs and ferns were all gone, lava, pumice, and ashes lay thick on everything around, and only a few blackened and twisted stumps of the larger trees remained to tell that an umbrageous forest had once flourished there. The whole scene might be fittingly described in the two words—grey desolation.

“That is the entrance to your father’s old home,” said Nigel, as he set his fair burden down and pointed to the entrance.

“What a dreadful place!” said Winnie, peering into the black depths of the cavern.

“It was not dreadful when I first saw it, Winnie, with rich verdure everywhere; and inside you will find it surprisingly comfortable. But we must not enter until your father arrives to do the honours of the place himself.”

They had not to wait long. First Moses arrived, and, shrewdly suspecting from the appearance of the young couple that they were engaged in conversation that would not brook interruption, or, perhaps, judging from what might be his own wishes in similar circumstances, he turned his back suddenly on them, and, stooping down, addressed himself to an imaginary creature of the animal kingdom.

“What a bootiful bufferfly you is, to be sure! up on sitch a place too, wid nuffin’ to eat ’cept Krakatoa dust. I wonder what your moder would say if she know’d you was here. You should be ashamed ob yourself!”

“Hallo! Moses, what are you talking to over there?”

“Nuffin’, Massa Nadgel. I was on’y habin’ a brief conv’sation wid a member ob de insect wurld in commemoration ob de purfesser. Leastwise, if it warn’t a insect it must hab bin suffin’ else. Won’t you go in, Miss Winnie?”

“No, I’d rather wait for father,” returned the girl, looking a little flushed, for some strange and totally unfamiliar ideas had recently floated into her brain and caused some incomprehensible flutterings of the heart to which hitherto she had been a stranger.

Mindful of his father’s injunctions, however, Nigel had been particularly careful to avoid increasing these flutterings.

In a few minutes the hermit came up.

“Ah! Winnie,” he said, “there has been dire devastation here. Perhaps inside things may look better. Come, take my hand and don’t be afraid. The floor is level and your eyes will soon get accustomed to the dim light.”

“I’s afeared, massa,” remarked Moses, as they entered the cavern, “dat your sun-lights won’t be wu’th much now.”

“You are right, lad. Go on before us and light the lamps if they are not broken.”

It was found, as they had expected, that the only light which penetrated the cavern was that which entered by the cave’s mouth, which of course was very feeble.

Presently, to Winnie’s surprise, Moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern.

Van der Kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. There was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face.

“Father,” she said earnestly, “you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. Perhaps you will wonder when I tell you that I experience something of that sort now. Strange though this place seems, I have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me—that I have seen it before.”

“I do not wonder, dear one,” he replied, “for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother’s knee. For over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory—though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. Come, let us examine them.”

It was pleasant to see the earnest face of Winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. It was also a sight worth seeing—the countenance of Nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of Moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him—for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and Winnie had been quite alone.

“He either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family,” thought Nigel with a feeling of satisfaction.

“What a dear comoonicative man!” thought Moses, with unconcealed pleasure.

“Come now, let us ascend to the observatory,” said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. “There has been damage done there, I know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. I left it by mistake one day when I went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. Indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. It contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field.”

Winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father—the hermit of Rakata—was the very embodiment of romance itself.

But a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up.

“There is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, I think,” said Nigel, taking the lantern from Moses and examining the spot.

“Jump up, Moses, and try it,” said the hermit. “If your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it.”

The negro was about to obey the order when Nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it.

“Oh! Massa Nadgel; das a pritty business!”

“Never mind,” said Van der Kemp. “I’ve got matches, I think, in my—no, I haven’t. Have you, Moses?”

“No, massa, I forgit to remember him.”

“No matter, run back—you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. We will wait here till you return. Be smart, now!”

Moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard.

“I will try to clamber through in the dark. Look after Winnie, Nigel—and don’t leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles.”

“Very well, father.”

“All right. I’ve got through, Nigel; I’ll feel my way on for a little bit. Remain where you are.”

“Winnie,” said Nigel when they were alone, “doesn’t it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?”

“It does—I don’t quite like it.”

“Whereabouts are you?” said Nigel.

He carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow.

“Oh! take care of my eyes!” exclaimed Winnie with a little laugh.

“I wish you would turn your eyes towards me for I’m convinced they would give some light—to me at least. Here, do let me hold your hand. It will make you feel more confident.”

To one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. Nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. Like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth’s head! He forgot his father’s warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and Moses and Spinkie, and the thick darkness—forgot almost everything in the light of that touch!

“Winnie!” he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; “I—I—” He hesitated. The solemn embargo of his father recurred to him.

“What is it! Is there danger?” exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him.

This was too much! Nigel felt himself to be contemptible. He was taking unfair advantage of her.

“Winnie,” he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, “there is no danger whatever. I’m an ass—a dolt—that’s all! The fact is, I made my father a sort of half promise that I would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until—until I found out exactly what you thought about it. Now the thing is ridiculous—impossible—for how can I know your opinion on any subject until I have asked you?”

“Quite true,” returned Winnie simply, “so you better ask me.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, “I—I—Yes, I will ask you, Winnie! But first I must explain—”

“Hallo! Nigel!” came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, “are you there—all right?”

“Yes, yes—I’m here—not all right exactly, but I’ll be all right some day, you may depend upon that!” shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation.

“What said you?” asked Van der Kemp, putting his head through the hole.

“Hi! I’s a-comin’, look out, dar!” hallooed Moses in the opposite direction.

“Just so,” said Nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, “we’ll be all right when the light comes. Here, give us your hand, Van der Kemp.”

The hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as Moses arrived with the lantern.

“It’s of no use going further,” he said. “The passage is completely blocked up—so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. There will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. Come.”