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

“I will, on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“That you also dispense with the ‘Mr’ and ‘sir,’ and call me Van der Kemp.”

“Agreed,” said Nigel, “though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years.”

“Look here,” said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth’s observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, “these are my astronomical instruments.”

He pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes—and microscopes as well—one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches.

“Here, you see, I have the means of investigating the wonders of Nature in her grandest as well as her minutest scales. And there,” he added, pointing to a couple of large reflecting mirrors in strong wooden frames, erected on joints in such a way that they could be turned in any direction,—“there you have the secret of my sunshine. One of these mirrors catches the sunshine direct and reflects it on the other, which, as you see, is so arranged that it transmits the rays down the natural funnel or chimney into the cave. By means of chains connected with the mechanism, and extending below, I can change the direction of the mirrors as the sun changes its place in the sky, without requiring to come up here.”

“Very ingenious!” said Nigel; “but how do you manage when the mountain comes between you and the sun, as I see it cannot fail to do during some part of the day?”

“Simply enough,” returned the hermit, pointing to a distant projecting cliff or peak. “On yon summit I have fixed four mirrors similar to these. When the sun can no longer be reflected from this pair, the first of the distant mirrors takes it up and shoots a beam of light over here. When the sun passes from that, the second mirror is arranged to catch and transmit it, and so on to the fourth. After that I bid good-bye to the sun, and light my lamp!”

Nigel felt an almost irresistible tendency to smile at this, but the grave simplicity of the man forbade such familiarity.

“Look yonder,” continued the hermit, sweeping one of his long arms towards Sumatra, “in that direction runs the line of volcanic disturbance—the fissure of which I have already spoken. Focus this telescope to suit your sight. Now, do you see the little island away there to the nor’-west?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that is Varlaten. I mentioned it when at breakfast. Sweep your glass round to the nor’ard, the little island there is Polish Hat, and you see Lang Island in the nor’-east. These, with Krakatoa, are merely the higher parts still remaining above water of the ring or lip of the ancient crater. This will give you some idea what an enormous mountain the original of this old volcano must have been. This island-mountain is estimated to have been twenty-five miles in circumference, and 10,000 to 12,000 feet high. It was blown into the air in 1680, and this island, with the few islets I have pointed out, is all that remains of it. Now, cast your eye down the centre of the island on which we stand; you see several cones of various sizes. These are ancient vents, supposed to be extinct—”

“But one of them, the one furthest away,” interrupted Nigel, steadying his telescope on the branch of a tree, “seems to be anything but extinct, for I see a thin column of white smoke or steam rising from it.”

“That is just what I was going to point out. They call that Perboewatan. It is the lowest peak on the island, about 400 feet high, and stands, I should say, in the very centre of the ancient crater, where are the two fissures I have mentioned. For two hundred years Perboewatan has not smoked like that, and, slight though it is at present, I cannot help thinking that it indicates an impending eruption, especially when I consider that earthquakes have become more numerous of late years, and there was one in 1880 which was so violent as to damage seriously the lighthouse on Java’s First Point.”

“Then you have resided here for some time?” said Nigel.

“Yes, for many years,” replied the hermit, in a low, sad tone.

“But is it wise in you to stay if you think an explosion so likely? Don’t you needlessly run considerable risk?”

“I do not fear to die.”

Nigel looked at his new friend in surprise, but there was not a shadow of boastfulness or affectation either in his look or tone.

“Besides,” he continued, “the explosion may be but slight, and Perboewatan is, as you see, about four miles off. People in the neighbourhood of the straits and passing ships are so accustomed to volcanic explosions on a more or less grand scale that they will never notice this little cloud hanging over Krakatoa. Those who, like myself, know the ancient history of the island, regard it in a more serious light, but we may be wrong. Come, now, we will descend again and have a ramble over part of the island. It will interest you. Not many men have penetrated its luxuriant forests or know their secrets. I have wandered through them in all directions, and can guide you. Indeed, Moses could do that as well as I, for he has lived with me many years. Come.”

Returning to the cavern they found that the active negro had not only finished his breakfast, but had washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen, so that he was quite ready to shoulder a wallet and a gun when his master bade him prepare for a day in the forest.

It is not, however, our intention to follow the trio thither. Matters of greater interest, if not importance, claim our attention at present. Let it suffice to say, therefore, that after a most delightful day, spent in wandering amongst the luxuriant tropical vegetation with which the island was densely covered, visiting one of the extinct craters, bathing in one of the numerous hot springs, and collecting many objects of interest to the hermit, in the shape of botanical and geological specimens, they returned in the evening to their cavern-house not only ready but eager for sustenance and repose.

Chapter Eight

Perboewatan becomes moderately Violent

The cave was enshrouded in almost total darkness when they entered it, but this was quickly dispelled, to Nigel’s no little surprise, by the rays of a magnificent oil-lamp, which Moses lighted and placed on the table in the larger cave. A smaller one of the same kind already illuminated the kitchen.

Not much conversation was indulged in during the progress of the supper that was soon spread upon the rude table. The three men, being uncommonly hungry and powerfully robust, found in food a sufficient occupation for their mouths for some time.

After supper they became a little, but not much, more sociable, for, although Nigel’s active mind would gladly have found vent in conversation, he experienced some difficulty in making headway against the discouragement of Van der Kemp’s very quiet disposition, and the cavernous yawns with which Moses displayed at once his desire for slumber and his magnificent dental arrangements.

“We always retire early to rest after a day of this sort,” said the hermit at last, turning to his guest. “Do you feel disposed for bed?”

“Indeed I do,” said Nigel, with a half-suppressed yawn, that was irresistibly dragged out of him by the sight of another earthquake on the negro’s face.

“Come, then, I will show you your berth; we have no bedrooms here,” said the hermit, with a sort of deprecatory smile, as he led the way to the darker end of the cavern, where he pointed to a little recess in which there was a pile of something that smelt fresh and looked like heather, spread on which there was a single blanket.

“Sailors are said to be indifferent to sheets. You won’t miss them, I daresay?”

“Not in the least,” returned Nigel, with a laugh. “Good-night,” he added, shaking hands with his host and suppressing another yawn, for Moses’ face, even in the extreme distance, was irresistibly infectious!

Our hero was indifferent not only to sheets, but also, in certain circumstances, to the usual habiliments of night. Indeed, while travelling in out-of-the-way regions he held it to be a duty to undress but partially before turning in, so that he might be ready for emergencies.

On lying down he found his mattress, whatever it was, to be a springy, luxurious bed, and was about to resign himself to slumber when he observed that, from the position in which he lay, he could see the cavern in all its extent. Opening his half-closed eyes, therefore, he watched the proceedings of his host, and in doing so, as well as in speculating on his strange character and surroundings, he became somewhat wakeful.

He saw that Van der Kemp, returning to the other end of the cave, sat down beside the lamp, the blaze of which fell full on his fine calm countenance. A motion of his head brought Moses to him, who sat down beside him and entered into earnest conversation, to judge from his gestures, for nothing could be heard where Nigel lay save the monotonous murmur of their voices. The hermit did not move. Except for an occasional inclination of the head he appeared to be a grand classic statue, but it was otherwise with the negro. His position in front of the lamp caused him to look if possible even blacker than ever, and the blackness was so uniform that his entire profile became strongly pronounced, thus rendering every motion distinct, and the varied pouting of his huge lips remarkably obvious. The extended left hand, too, with the frequent thrusting of the index finger of the other into the palm, was suggestive of argument, and of much reasoning effort—if not power.

After about half-an-hour of conversation, Moses arose, shook his master by the hand, appeared to say “Good-night” very obviously, yawned, and retired to the kitchen, whence, in five minutes or so, there issued sounds which betokened felicitous repose.

Meanwhile his master sat motionless for some time, gazing at the floor as if in meditation. Then he rose, went to his book-case and took down a large thick volume, which he proceeded to read.

Nigel had by that time dropped into a drowsy condition, yet his interest in the doings of his strange entertainer was so great that he struggled hard to keep awake, and partially succeeded.

“I wonder,” he muttered, in sleepy tones, “if that’s a f–fam–’ly Bible he’s reading—or—or—a vol’m o’ the En–Encyclopida Brit—”

He dropped off at this point, but, feeling that he had given way to some sort of weakness, he struggled back again in to wakefulness, and saw that the hermit was bending over the large book with his massive brow resting on the palms of both hands, and his fingers thrust into his iron-grey hair. It was evident, however, that he was not reading the book at that moment, for on its pages was lying what seemed to be a miniature or photograph case, at which he gazed intently. Nigel roused himself to consider this, and in doing so again dropped off—not yet soundly, however, for curiosity induced one more violent struggle, and he became aware of the fact that the hermit was on his knees with his face buried in his hands.

The youth’s thoughts must have become inextricably confused at this point, yet their general drift was indicated by the muttered words:

“I—I’m glad o’ that—a good sign—an’—an’ it’s not th’ Encyclop.” Here Morpheus finally conquered, and he sank into dreamless repose.

How long this condition lasted he could not tell, but he was awakened violently by sensations and feelings of dread, which were entirely new to him. The bed on which he rested seemed to heave under him, and his ears were filled by sharp rattling sounds, something like—yet very different from—the continuous roll of musketry.

Starting up, he sprang into the large cavern where he found Van der Kemp quietly tightening his belt and Moses hastily pulling on his boots.

“Sometin’s bu’sted an’ no mistake!” exclaimed the latter.

“An eruption from one of the cones,” said the hermit. “I have been for a long time expecting it. Come with us.”

He went swiftly up the staircase and passages which led to the observatory as he spoke.

The scene that met their eyes on reaching the ledge or plateau was sublime in the extreme, as well as terrific.

“As I thought,” said Van der Kemp, in a low tone. “It is Perboewatan that has broken out.”