DESCRIBES, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A SINGULAR MEETING UNDER PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES.

There is unquestionably a class of men—especially Englishmen—who are deeply imbued with the idea that the Universe in general, and our world in particular, has been created with a view to afford them what they call fun.

"It would be great fun," said an English commercial man to a friend who sat beside him, "to go and have a look at this eruption. They say it is Krakatoa which has broken out after a sleep of two centuries, and as it has been bursting away now for nearly a week, it is likely to hold on for some time longer. What would you say to charter a steamer and have a grand excursion to the volcano?"

The friend said he thought it would indeed be "capital fun!"

We have never been able to ascertain who these Englishmen were, but they must have been men of influence, or able to move men of influence, for they at once set to work and organised an excursion.

The place where this excursion was organised was Batavia. Although that city was situated in Java, nearly a hundred miles distant from Krakatoa, the inhabitants had not only heard distinctly the explosions of the volcano, but had felt some quakings of the earth and much rattling of doors and windows, besides a sprinkling of ashes, which indicated that the eruption, even in that eruptive region, was of unusual violence. They little imagined to what mighty throes the solid rocks of Krakatoa were yet to be subjected before those volcanic fires could find a vent. Meanwhile, as we have said, there was enough of the unusual in it to warrant our merchants in their anticipation of a considerable amount of fun.

A steamer was got ready; a number of sightseeing enthusiasts were collected, and they set forth on the morning of the 26th of May. Among these excursionists was our friend Captain David Roy—not that he was addicted to running about in search of "fun," but, being unavoidably thrown idle at the time, and having a poetical turn of mind—derived from his wife—he thought he could not do better than take a run to the volcano and see how his son was getting along.

The party reached the scene of the eruption on the morning of the 27th, having witnessed during the night several tolerably strong explosions, which were accompanied by earthquake shocks. It was found that Krakatoa and all the adjoining islands were covered with a fine white dust, like snow, and that the trees on the northern part of the former island and Varlaten had been to a great extent deprived of their leaves and branches by falling pumice, while those on Lang Island and Polish Hat, as well as those on the Peak of Rakata, had to a great extent escaped—no doubt owing to the prevailing direction of the wind.

It was soon seen that Perboewatan on Krakatoa was the cone in active eruption, and the steamer made for its neighbourhood, landing her party within a short distance of its base. Explosions were occurring at intervals of from five to ten minutes. Each explosion being accompanied by an uncovering of the molten lava in the vent, the overhanging steam-cloud was lighted up with a grand glow for a few seconds. Some of the party, who seemed to be authorities on such matters, estimated that the vapour-column rose to a height of nearly 10,000 feet, and that fragments of pumice were shot upwards to a height of 600 feet.

"That's a sign that the violence of the eruption is diminished," remarked the young merchant, who was in search of fun, as he prepared to wade ankle-deep in the loose pumice up the slopes of the cone.

"Diminished!" repeated our captain, who had fraternised much with this merchant during their short voyage. "If that's what you call diminishin', I shouldn't like to be here when it's increasin'."

"Pooh!" exclaimed the merchant, "that's nothing. I've seen, at other volcanoes, pieces of pumice blown up so high that they've been caught by the upper currents of the atmosphere and carried away in an opposite direction to the wind that was blowing below at the time. Ay, I believe that dust is sometimes blown miles up into the air."

As Captain Roy thought that the merchant was drawing the long bow he made no reply, but changed the subject by asking what was the height of Perboewatan.

"Three hundred feet or thereabouts," replied his friend.

"I hope my son will have the sense to clear out of the island if things look like gittin' worse," muttered the captain, as an unusually violent explosion shook the whole side of the cone.

"No fear of him," returned the merchant. "If he is visiting the hermit of Rakata, as you tell me, he'll be safe enough. Although something of a dare-devil, the hermit knows how to take care of himself. I'm afraid, however, that you'll not find it so easy to 'look up' your son as you seem to think. Just glance round at these almost impenetrable forests. You don't know what part of the island he may be in just now; and you might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as look for him there. He is probably at the other end of Krakatoa—four or five miles off—on the South side of Rakata, where the hermit's cave is supposed to be, for no one seems to be quite sure as to its whereabouts. Besides, you'll have to stick by the excursionists if you wish to return to Batavia."

Captain Roy paused for a moment to recover breath, and looking down upon the dense tropical forest that stretched between him and the Peak of Rakata, he shook his head, and admitted that the merchant was right. Turning round he addressed himself once more to the ascent of the cone, on the sides of which the whole excursion party now straggled and struggled, remarking, as he panted along, that hill-climbing among ashes and cinders didn't "come easy to a sea-farin' man."

Now, nothing was more natural than that Van der Kemp and his guest should be smitten with the same sort of desire which had brought these excursionists from Batavia. The only thing that we do not pretend to account for is the strange coincidence that they should have been so smitten, and had so arranged their plans, that they arrived at Perboewatan almost at the same time with the excursionists—only about half an hour before them!

Their preliminary walk, however, through the tangled, almost impassable, forest had been very slow and toilsome, and having been involved in its shadow from daybreak, they were, of course, quite unaware of the approach of the steamer or the landing of the excursion party.

"If the volcano seems quieting down," said Nigel to his host, "shall you start to-morrow?"

"Yes; by daybreak. Even if the eruption does not quiet down I must set out, for my business presses."

Nigel felt much inclined to ask what his business was, but there was a quiet something in the air of the hermit, when he did not choose to be questioned, which effectually silenced curiosity. Falling behind a little, till the negro came up with him, Nigel tried to obtain information from him, for he felt that he had a sort of right to know at least something about the expedition in which he was about to act a part.

"Do you know, Moses, what business your master is going about?" he asked, in a low voice.

"No more nor de man ob de moon, Massa Nadgel," said Moses, with an air at once so truthful and so solemn that the young man gave it up with a laugh of resignation.

On arriving at Perboewatan, and ascending its sides, they at last became aware of the approach of the excursion steamer.

"Strange," muttered the hermit, "vessels don't often touch here."

"Perhaps they have run short of water," suggested Nigel.

"Even if they had it would not be worth their while to stop here for that," returned the hermit, resuming the ascent of the cone after an intervening clump of trees had shut out the steamer from view.

It was with feelings of profound interest and considerable excitement that our hero stood for the first time on the top of a volcanic cone and gazed down into its glowing vent.

The crater might be described as a huge basin of 3000 feet in diameter. From the rim of this basin on which the visitors stood the sides sloped so gradually inward that the flat floor at the bottom was not more than half that diameter. This floor—which was about 150 feet below the upper edge—was covered with a black crust, and in the centre of it was the tremendous cavity—between one and two hundred feet in diameter—from which issued the great steam-cloud. The cloud was mixed with quantities of pumice and fragments of what appeared to be black glass. The roar of this huge vent was deafening and stupendous. If the reader will reflect on the wonderful hubbub that can be created even by a kitchen kettle when superheated, and on the exasperating shrieks of a steamboat's safety-valve in action, or the bellowing of a fog-horn, he may form some idea of the extent of his incapacity to conceive the thunderous roar of Krakatoa when it began to boil over.

When to this awful sound there were added the intermittent explosions, the horrid crackling of millions of rock-masses meeting in the air, and the bubbling up of molten lava—verily it did not require the imagination of a Dante to see in all this the very vomiting of Gehenna!

So amazed and well-nigh stunned was Nigel at the sights and sounds that he neither heard nor saw the arrival of the excursionists, until the equally awe-stricken Moses touched him on the elbow and drew his attention to several men who suddenly appeared on the crater-brim not fifty yards off, but who, like themselves, were too much absorbed with the volcano itself to observe the other visitors. Probably they took them for some of their own party who had reached the summit before them.

Nigel was yet looking at these visitors in some surprise, when an elderly nautical man suddenly stood not twenty yards off gazing in open-mouthed amazement, past our hero's very nose, at the volcanic fires.

"Hallo, Father!" shouted the one.

"Zounds! Nigel!" exclaimed the other.

Both men glared and were speechless for several seconds. Then Nigel rushed at the captain, and the captain met him half-way, and they shook hands with such hearty goodwill as to arrest in his operations for a few moments a photographer who was hastily setting up his camera!

Yes, science has done much to reveal the marvellous and arouse exalted thoughts in the human mind, but it has also done something to crush enthusiasts and shock the romantic. Veracity constrains us to state that there he was, with his tripod, and his eager haste, and his hideous black cloth, preparing to "take" Perboewatan on a "dry plate"! And he "took" it too! And you may see it, if you will, as a marvellous frontispiece to the volume by the "Krakatoa Committee"—a work which is apparently as exhaustive of the subject of Krakatoa as was the great explosion itself of those internal fires which will probably keep that volcano quiet for the next two hundred years.

But this was not the Great Eruption of Krakatoa—only a rehearsal, as it were.

"What brought you here, my son?" asked the captain, on recovering speech.

"My legs, father."

"Don't be insolent, boy."

"It's not insolence, father. It's only poetical licence, meant to assure you that I did not come by 'bus or rail though you did by steamer! But let me introduce you to my friend, Mr.——"

He stopped short on looking round, for Van der Kemp was not there.

"He goed away wheneber he saw de peepil comin' up de hill," said Moses, who had watched the meeting of father and son with huge delight. "But you kin interdooce me instead," he added, with a crater-like smile.

"True, true," exclaimed Nigel, laughing. "This is Moses, father, my host's servant, and my very good friend, and a remarkably free-and-easy friend, as you see. He will guide us back to the cave, since Van der Kemp seems to have left us."

"Who's Van der Kemp?" asked the captain.

"The hermit of Rakata, father—that's his name. His father was a Dutchman and his mother an English or Irish woman—I forget which. He's a splendid fellow; quite different from what one would expect; no more like a hermit than a hermit-crab, except that he lives in a cave under the Peak of Rakata, at the other end of the island. But you must come with us and pay him a visit. He will be delighted to see you."

"What! steer through a green sea of leaves like that?" said the captain, stretching his arm towards the vast forest that lay stretched out below them, "and on my legs, too, that have been used all their lives to a ship's deck? No, my son. I will content myself with this lucky meetin'. But, I say, Nigel, lad," continued the old man, somewhat more seriously, "what if the Peak o' Ra—Ra, what's-'is-name, should take to spoutin' like this one, an' you, as you say, livin' under it?"

"Ha! das 'zackly what I say," interposed Moses. "Das what I oftin says to massa, but he nebber answers. He only smile. Massa's not always so purlite as he might be!"

"There is no fear," said Nigel, "not at present, anyhow, for Van der Kemp says that the force of this eruption is diminishing—"

"It don't look much like it," muttered the captain, as the volcano at that moment gave vent to a burst which seemed like a sarcastic laugh at the hermit's opinion, and sent the more timid of the excursionists sprawling down the cinder-slope in great alarm.

"There's reason in what you say, father," said Nigel, when the diminution of noise rendered speech more easy; "and after all, as we start off on our travels to-morrow, your visit could not have been a long one."

"Where do you go first?" asked the captain.

"Not sure. Do you know, Moses?"

"No; no more 'n de man ob de moon. P'r'aps Borneo. He go dar sometimes."

At this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference.

"Well, lad, I'm glad I've seen you. Don't forget to write your whereabouts. They say there's a lot o' wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an' your powder dry. Good-bye, Nigel. Take care of him, Moses, and keep him out o' mischief if ye can—which is more than ever I could. Good-bye, my boy."

"Good-bye, father."

They shook hands vigorously. In another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of Moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit's cave.

A CURIOUS SEA-GOING CRAFT—THE UNKNOWN VOYAGE BEGUN.

It was early next morning when Van der Kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen.

Perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation. The hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with Moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast.

They had scarcely left the cave when Nigel awoke. Feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as "having a look at the weather." Whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before. Arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice. He turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit's home.

Just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun. A curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind! At the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling. Ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness.

"It must be coming out tail-foremost!" he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity.

Another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder.

As Nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of Moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe.

"I see you are active and an early riser," said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero.

"I almost took you for a Krakatoa monster!" said Nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground. "Why, you've got here one of the craft which we in England call a Rob Roy canoe!"

"It is fashioned on the same pattern," said the hermit, "but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement—as I think—founded on what I have myself seen, when travelling with the Eskimos of Greenland."

Van der Kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in England, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons. Also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes.

"These saddles, as I call them," said the hermit, "have been suggested to me by the Eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used. Thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the Rob Roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt. Moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water. I have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the English canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the Eskimo saddle. Inside, under the deck, as I will show you by and by, I have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but I prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean."

"You don't mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!" exclaimed Nigel in surprise.

"Indeed we do," returned the hermit, "and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather. Besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose. I made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it. The wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar. This makes the craft watertight as well as strong. The ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and stronger than the others and made of tougher wood. All these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak. Besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three water-tight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled."

"Is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?" asked Nigel.

"It is. We shall start in an hour or two. I keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place. But come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements. Of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?"

"If I did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor," returned our hero.

"That is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed. I usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and Moses steers."

Van der Kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder.

A few minutes' walk brought them to the beach at the spot where Nigel had originally landed. Here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe. There were several small bags of pemmican, which Van der Kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of North America among the Red Indians,—for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life. There were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits. There were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. There was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of Nigel.

There was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft.

Spinkie, as Moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. He was seated on a water-cask when Nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it.

"Is that what he is doing?" asked Nigel of the negro.

"Oh no, Massa Nadgel," said Moses. "Spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no need ob a pocket-hangkitcher. He only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. But he's bery fond ob doin' dat."

Being extremely fond of monkeys, Nigel went forward to fondle him, and Spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly—after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion—into the stranger's hands. A lifelong friendship was cemented then and there.

After stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe.

"An' he's a good defender ob it," said Moses, "for if man or beast happen to come near it when Spinkie's in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin' fit to cause a 'splosion ob Perboewatan!"

Breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. Each bed, however, was light and simple. It consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. Besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. Van der Kemp and Nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. Moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his couteau de chasse bore stronger resemblance to an ancient Roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions.

Launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while Nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. He did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist.

Round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled canvas was attached.

"Yes, you'd better understand that thing before we start," said Van der Kemp, observing that Nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. "It's an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. In fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. Undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used."

Acting as directed, Nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. In this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat.

"You see," explained the hermit, "the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on—there are similar protections round the other holes."

"I understand," said Nigel. "But how if water gets in through a leak below?"

"Do you see that brass thing in front of you?" returned the hermit. "That is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. The handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. I keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things."

As he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. The plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. The hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. But the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on indiarubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. Although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef points. All these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase—multum, in parvo.

"We don't use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this," said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. Moses uses a single blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. You are at liberty to use which you prefer."

"Thanks, I will follow the lead of Moses, for I also have been accustomed to the single blade and prefer it—at least while I am one of three. If alone, I should prefer the double blade."

"Now, Moses, are you ready?" asked the hermit.

"All ready, massa."

"Get in then and shove off. Come along, Spinkie."

The monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of Nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady.

"You need not give yourself any concern about Spinkie," said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. "He is quite able to take care of himself."

Bounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of Van der Kemp's powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of Van der Kemp as well as that of Moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind.

About a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of Java, glinted over the mountains of Sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of Krakatoa—emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from Perboewatan, until the hermit's home sank from view in the western horizon.

CANOEING ON THE SEA—A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT-SURPRISE AND SUDDEN FLIGHT.

At first the voyagers paddled over the glassy sea in almost total silence.

Nigel was occupied with his own busy thoughts; speculating on the probable end and object of their voyage, and on the character, the mysterious life, and unknown history of the man who sat in front of him wielding so powerfully the great double-bladed paddle. Van der Kemp himself was, as we have said, naturally quiet and silent, save when roused by a subject that interested him. As for Moses, although quite ready at any moment to indulge in friendly intercourse, he seldom initiated a conversation, and Spinkie, grasping the mast and leaning against it with his head down, seemed to be either asleep or brooding over his sorrows. Only a few words were uttered now and then when Nigel asked the name of a point or peak which rose in the distance on either hand. It seemed as if the quiescence of sea and air had fallen like a soft mantle on the party and subdued them into an unusually sluggish frame of mind.

They passed through the Sunda Straits between Sumatra and Java—not more at the narrowest part than about thirteen miles wide—and, in course of time, found themselves in the great island-studded archipelago beyond.

About noon they all seemed to wake up from their lethargic state. Van der Kemp laid down his paddle, and, looking round, asked Nigel if he felt tired.

"Not in the least," he replied, "but I feel uncommonly hungry, and I have just been wondering how you manage to feed when at sea in so small a craft."

"Ho! ho!" laughed Moses, in guttural tones, "you soon see dat—I 'spose it time for me to get out de grub, massa?"

"Yes, Moses—let's have it."

The negro at once laid down his steering paddle and lifted a small square hatch or lid in the deck which was rendered watertight by the same means as the lid in front already described. From the depths thus revealed he extracted a bird of some sort that had been shot and baked the day before. Tearing off a leg he retained it and handed the remainder to Nigel.

"Help you'self, Massa Nadgel, an' pass 'im forid."

Without helping himself he passed it on to Van der Kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest.

"Always help yourself before passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here."

Nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began.

"Biskit," said Moses, with his mouth full, "an' look out for Spinkie."

He handed forward a deep tray of the sailor's familiar food, but Nigel was too slow to profit by the warning given, for Spinkie darted both hands into the tray and had stuffed his mouth and cheeks full almost before a man could wink! The negro would have laughed aloud, but the danger of choking was too great; he therefore laughed internally—an operation which could not be fully understood unless seen. "'Splosions of Perboewatan," may suggest the thing.

Sorrow, grief—whatever it was that habitually afflicted that monkey—disappeared for the time being, while it devoted itself heart and soul to dinner.

Feelings of a somewhat similar kind animated Nigel as he sat leaning back with his mouth full, a biscuit in one hand, and a drumstick in the other, and his eyes resting dreamily on the horizon of the still tranquil sea, while the bright sun blazed upon his already bronzed face.

To many men the fierce glare of the equatorial sun might have proved trying, but Nigel belonged to the salamander type of humanity and enjoyed the great heat. Van der Kemp seemed to be similarly moulded, and as for Moses, he was in his native element—so was Spinkie.

Strange as it may seem, sea-birds appeared to divine what was going on, for several specimens came circling round the canoe with great outstretched and all but motionless wings, and with solemn sidelong glances of hope which Van der Kemp evidently could not resist, for he flung them scraps of his allowance from time to time.

"If you have plenty of provisions on board, I should like to do that too," said Nigel.

"Do it," returned the hermit. "We have plenty of food for some days, and our guns can at any time replenish the store. I like to feed these creatures," he added, "they give themselves over so thoroughly to the enjoyment of the moment, and seem to be grateful. Whether they are so or not, of course, is matter of dispute. Cynics will tell us that they only come to us and fawn upon us because of the memory of past favours and the hope of more to come. I don't agree with them."

"Neither do I," said Nigel, warmly. "Any man who has ever had to do with dogs knows full well that gratitude is a strong element of their nature. And it seems to me that the speaking eyes of Spinkie, to whom I have just given a bit of biscuit, tell of a similar spirit."

As he spoke, Nigel was conveying another piece of biscuit to his own mouth, when a small brown hand flashed before him, and the morsel, in the twinkling of an eye, was transferred to the monkey's already swollen cheek—whereat Moses again became suddenly "'splosive" and red, as well as black in the face, for his capacious mouth was inordinately full as usual.

Clear water, from one of the casks, and poured into a tin mug, washed down their cold collation, and then, refreshed and reinvigorated, the trio resumed their paddles, which were not again laid down till the sun was descending towards the western horizon. By that time they were not far from a small wooded islet near the coast of Java, on which Van der Kemp resolved to spend the night.

During the day they had passed at some distance many boats and praus and other native vessels, the crews of which ceased to row for a few moments, and gazed with curiosity at the strange craft which glided along so swiftly, and seemed to them little more than a long plank on the water, but these took no further notice of our voyagers. They also passed several ships—part of that constant stream of vessels which pass westward through those straits laden with the valuable teas and rich silks of China and Japan. In some cases a cheer of recognition, as being an exceptional style of craft, was accorded them, to which the hermit replied with a wave of the hand—Moses and Nigel with an answering cheer.

There is something very pleasant in the rest which follows a day of hard and healthful toil. Our Maker has so ordained it as well as stated it, for is it not written, "The sleep of the labouring man is sweet"? and our travellers experienced the truth of the statement that night in very romantic circumstances.

The small rocky islet, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter, which they now approached had several sheltered sandy bays on its shore, which were convenient for landing. The centre was clothed with palm-trees and underwood, so that fuel could be procured, and cocoa-nuts.

"Sometimes," said the hermit, while he stooped to arrange the fire, after the canoe and cargo had been carried to their camping-place at the edge of the bushes,—"sometimes it is necessary to keep concealed while travelling in these regions, and I carry a little spirit-lamp which enables me to heat a cup of tea or coffee without making a dangerous blaze; but here there is little risk in kindling a fire."

"I should not have thought there was any risk at all in these peaceful times," said Nigel, as he unstrapped his blanket and spread it on the ground under an overhanging bush.

"There are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates."

"Where I puts your bed, massa?" asked Moses, turning his huge eyes on his master.

"There—under the bush, beside Nigel."

"An' where would you like to sleep, Massa Spinkie?" added the negro, with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed to be its favourite seat—a watercask.

Spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head languidly to one side, and scratched himself.

"Unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!" said Moses, shaking his fist, whereat Spinkie, promptly making an O of his mouth, looked fierce.

The sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl—hot this time—and ship's-biscuit washed down with coffee. Of course Spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. Having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see.

After supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. The negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero—who did not smoke—lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee.

"From what you have told me of your former trading expeditions," said Nigel, looking at his friend, "you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took—excuse me—to the hermit life."

"Ay—a good deal."

"Have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?" asked Nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men—he did not care which, so long as they were wild!

"Yes, in all of them," returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself.

"I suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?" continued Nigel interrogatively.

"They are, very."

"But the wood is not of much value, I fancy, in the way of trade," pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for Van der Kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh.

"Not of much value in the way of trade!" he repeated—"forgive me, if I express surprise that you seem to know so little about us—but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything."

Having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. He remained so long silent that Nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines.

"I suppose," he said in a careless way, "that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals."

"My friend," returned Van der Kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, "it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. Borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which I hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your British islands, including Ireland, down on it they would be engulphed and surrounded by a sea of forests. New Guinea is, perhaps, larger than Borneo. Sumatra is only a little smaller. France is not so large as some of our islands. Java, Luzon, and Celebes are each about equal in size to Ireland. Eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as Jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the Isle of Wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. In short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full 4000 miles in length from east to west and about 1,300 in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of Europe."

It was evident to Nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the floodgates. The hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while Moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. Nigel sat quite silent and waited for more.

"As to trade," continued Van der Kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, "why, of gold—the great representative of wealth—we export from Sumatra alone over 26,000 ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a Mount Ophir in the Malay Peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export."

Continuing his discourse, Van der Kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm—as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land.

"Were you born in this region, Van der Kemp?" asked Nigel, during a brief pause.

"I was—in Java. My father, as my name tells, was of Dutch descent. My mother was Irish. Both are dead."

He stopped. The fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him.

"And what about large game?" asked Nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated.

"Pardon me," he said, "I was dreaming of the days that are gone. Ah! Nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old—the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. No one can know till he has felt!"

"But you are not old," said Nigel, wishing to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly.

"Not in years," he returned; "but old, very old in experience, and—stay, what was it that you were asking about? Ah, the big game. Well, we have plenty of that in some of the larger of the islands; we have the elephant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the puma, that great man-monkey the orang-utan, or, as it is called here, the mias, besides wild pigs, deer, and innumerable smaller animals and birds—"

The hermit stopped abruptly and sat motionless, with his head bent on one side, like one who listens intently. Such an action is always infectious. Nigel and the negro also listened, but heard nothing.

By that time the fire had died down, and, not being required for warmth, had not been replenished. The faint light of the coming moon, which, however, was not yet above the horizon, only seemed to render darkness visible, so that the figure of Moses was quite lost in the shadow of the bush behind him, though the whites of his solemn eyes appeared like two glow-worms.

"Do you hear anything?" asked Nigel in a low tone.

"Oars," answered the hermit.

"I hear 'im, massa," whispered the negro, "but das not su'prisin'—plenty boats about."

"This boat approaches the island, and I can tell by the sound that it is a large prau. If it touches here it will be for the purpose of spending the night, and Malay boatmen are not always agreeable neighbours. However, it is not likely they will ramble far from where they land, so we may escape observation if we keep quiet."

As he spoke he emptied the remains of the coffee on the dying fire and effectually put it out.

Meanwhile the sound of oars had become quite distinct, and, as had been anticipated, the crew ran their boat into one of the sandy bays and leaped ashore with a good deal of shouting and noise. Fortunately they had landed on the opposite side of the islet, and as the bush on it was very dense there was not much probability of any one crossing over. Our voyagers therefore lay close, resolving to be off in the morning before the unwelcome visitors were stirring.

As the three lay there wrapped in their blankets and gazing contemplatively at the now risen moon, voices were heard as if of men approaching. It was soon found that two of the strangers had sauntered round by the beach and were slowly drawing near the encampment.

Nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently.

The two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. At the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky.

Nigel glanced at Van der Kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. The moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. So strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. Nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared.

Then Van der Kemp rose with a sigh of relief. The negro and Nigel also sprang up.

"What's wrong, massa?" asked Moses, in much anxiety.

"Nothing, nothing," said the hermit hurriedly. "I must cross over to see these fellows."

"All right, massa. I go wid you."

"No, I go alone."

"Not widout arms?" exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master's shoulder.

"Yes, without arms!" As he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. "Now attend, both of you," he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness.

"Do not on any account follow me. I am quite able to take care of myself."

Next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone.

"Can you guess what is the matter with him?" asked Nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look.

"Not more nor de man ob de moon. I nebber saw'd 'im like dat before. I t'ink he's go mad! I tell you what—I'll foller him wid a rifle an' knife and two revolvers."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Nigel, laying hold of the negro's wrist with a grip of iron; "when a man like Van der Kemp gives an order it's the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey."

"Well—p'raps you're right, Nadgel," returned Moses calmly. "If you wasn't, I'd knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin' a grip o' me like dat."

"You'll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders," returned our hero, tightening the grip.

Moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench.

"You's awrful strong, Nadgel, but you don't quite come up to niggers! Howse'ber, you's right. I'll obey orders; neberdeless I'll get ready for action."

So saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to Nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for "massa" when he should return.

"Now, if you're smart at arit'metic, you'll see dat six time six am t'irty-six, and two double guns das forty—forty dead men's more 'n enuff—besides de knives."

Moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when Van der Kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. His face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided.

"I have seen him," he said, in a low voice.

"Seen who?" asked Nigel.

"Him whom I had hoped and prayed never more to see. My enemy! Come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice."

He gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; Moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while Nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. Five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable Spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast.

Taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. A cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. Each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the Queen of Night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea.

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 forehatch 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 canoe-men, 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 forehold, 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.