The hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the Dyak village. This was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them.
The huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size. It was not tall but very broad and large. The exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape measure, were as follows:—
| Height from heel to top of head | 4 feet 2 inches. |
| Outstretched arms across chest | 7 feet 8 inches. |
| Width of face | 1 foot 2 inches |
| Girth of arm | 1 foot 3 inches |
| Girth of wrist | 8 inches |
The muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as Nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening—of which, more presently.
On careful examination by Nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of Gurulam's bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done—thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit's spear-thrust. The poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home.
That afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark.
While a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by Moses, Van der Kemp attended to the wounded man, and Nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood. Having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance. Interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn. They were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen. It was feeding on succulent shoots by the water-side: a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving. The fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was forbade the idea of starvation. Besides, it had brought a Durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots. Perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic.
Anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes. That they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream. By mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings. They were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream. It picked up the Durian which lay there and began to devour it. Biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast.
Now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and Nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey's leg. The scene that ensued baffles description! Grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the American operation of gouging—digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant's jaws. The crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears. Nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him. There was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias. He never clenched his fist—never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place. At last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent's throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth. Wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face.
Slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat.
It is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death.
The people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men—perhaps had never seen them before—for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding! They were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return. Brass rings were the great ornament in this village—as they are, indeed, among the Dyaks generally. Many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee. Their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies. They also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour.
It was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them.
Arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated Malay pirate Baderoon.
Nigel observed that the countenance of his friend Van der Kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man's name mentioned. There was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics.
"Is Baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?" asked Nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening.
"Yes, and I fear to meet him," replied his friend in a low voice.
Nigel was surprised. The impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that Van der Kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear.
"Is he so very bitter against you?" asked Nigel.
"Very," was the curt reply.
"Have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?"
"I am sure he would. As I told you before, I have thwarted his plans more than once. When he hears that it is I who have warned the Orang-Kaya against him he will pursue me to the death—and—and I must not meet him."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Nigel, with renewed surprise.
But the hermit took no note of the exclamation. Anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. It seemed to Nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it.
"I suppose," he said, "that there is no fear of the Dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?"
"None whatever. Indeed, this is so well known to Baderoon that I think he will abandon the attempt. But he will not abandon his designs on me. However, we must wait and see how God will order events."
Next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river.
"Do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?" asked the chief, turning to Van der Kemp, when he heard the news.
"I think not. And even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them."
"Yes, ready—and well able to meet them," replied the Orang-Kaya, drawing himself up proudly.
"Did they all go in one direction?" asked Van der Kemp of the youths who had brought the news.
"Yes, all went in a body to the north—except one boat which rowed southward."
"Hm! I thought so. My friends, listen to me. This is no pretence. They do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains Baderoon, and I feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me."
"That is well," returned the chief, calmly. "My young men will hunt till they find where he is. Then they will bring us the information and Van der Kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy."
"No, my friend," said the hermit, firmly; "that shall not be. I must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here."
The chief looked at his friend in surprise. "Well," he said, "you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. But you have already rendered me good service, and I will help you to fly—though such is not the habit of the Dyaks! There is a trader's vessel to start for Sumatra by the first light of day. Will my friend go by that?"
"I am grateful," answered the hermit, "but I need no help—save some provisions, for I have my little canoe, which will suffice."
As this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to Nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade Moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn.
"You see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for Baderoon has a keen eye and ear. Then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us—and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. When night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn."
"Mine frond," said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. "I vill go viz you."
"I should be only too happy to have your company," returned the hermit, "but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three."
"Zat is no matter to me," rejoined Verkimier; "you forget zee trader's boat. I vill go in zat to Sumatra. Ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. Vait for me if I have not arrived—or I vill vait for you. I have longed to visit Sumatra, ant vat better fronds could I go viz zan yourselfs?"
"But, my good friend," returned the hermit, "my movements may not exactly suit yours. Here they are,—you can judge for yourself. First I will, God permitting, cross over to Sumatra in my canoe."
"But it is t'ree hoondert miles across, if not more!"
"No matter—there are plenty of islands on the way. Besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. Then I will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where I know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. The captain is an old friend of mine. He brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. If I find him I will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through Sunda Straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at Telok Betong on the south coast of Sumatra—not far, as you know, from my home in Krakatoa. Then I will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend Nigel Roy may see a little of the country."
"Ant vat if you do not find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?"
"Why, then I shall have to adopt some other plan. It is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them."
"Zat is not'ing to me, Van der Kemp; you joost go as you say. I vill follow ant take my chance. I am use' to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. Zey can not influence me."
After a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. The professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while Van der Kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the Dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight!
When Nigel had slept about five minutes—as he thought—he was awakened by Moses.
"Don't make a noise, Massa Nadgel! Dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. Canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint."
In a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting.
The night was very dark. This was in their favour,—at least as regarded discovery.
"But how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?" asked Nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation.
"The current will guide us. Besides, I have studied the river with a view to this flight. Be careful in getting in. Now, Moses, are you ready?"
"All right, massa."
"Shove off, then."
There was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that Nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed!
Floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. Here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security.
When darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river's mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour.
"We are safe from pursuit now," said Van der Kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell.
"O massa!" exclaimed Moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; "we's forgotten Spinkie!"
"So we have!" returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that Nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy.
But Spinkie had not forgotten himself. Observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master's habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night.
Awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, Spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro's nose, and with a sleepy "oo, oo!" gazed up into his face.
"Ho! Dare you is, you mis'rible hyperkrite!" exclaimed Moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. "He's here, massa, all right. Now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair."
The creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose.
Van der Kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. A pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. Being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. When Baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped.
Fortunately the weather continued fine at first, and the light wind fair, so that the canoe skimmed swiftly over the wide sea that separates Borneo from Sumatra. Sometimes our travellers proceeded at night when the distance between islets compelled them to do so. At other times they landed on one of these isles when opportunity offered to rest and replenish the water-casks.
We will not follow them step by step in this voyage, which occupied more than a week, and during which they encountered without damage several squalls in which a small open boat could not have lived. Beaching at last the great island of Sumatra—which, like its neighbour Borneo, is larger in extent than the British Islands—they coasted along southwards, without further delay than was absolutely necessary for rest and refreshment, until they reached a port where they found the steamer of which they were in search just about to start on its return voyage. Van der Kemp committed his little craft to the care of the captain, who, after vainly advising his friend to take a free passage with him to the Straits of Sunda, promised to leave the canoe in passing at Telok Betong. We may add that Spinkie was most unwillingly obliged to accompany the canoe.
"Now, we must remain here till our friend Verkimier arrives," said the hermit, turning to Nigel after they had watched the steamer out of sight.
"I suppose we must," said Nigel, who did not at all relish the delay—"of course we must," he added with decision.
"I sees no 'ob course' about it, Massa Nadgel," observed Moses, who never refrained from offering his opinion from motives of humility, or of respect for his employer. "My 'dvice is to go on an' let de purfesser foller."
"But I promised to wait for him," said the hermit, with one of his kindly, half-humorous glances, "and you know I never break my promises."
"Das true, massa, but you di'n't promise to wait for him for eber an' eber!"
"Not quite; but of course I meant that I would wait a reasonable time."
The negro appeared to meditate for some moments on the extent of a "reasonable" time, for his huge eyes became huger as he gazed frowningly at the ground. Then he spoke.
"A 'reasonable' time, massa, is such an oncertain time—wariable, so to speak, accordin' to the mind that t'inks upon it! Hows'eber, if you's promised, ob coorse dat's an end ob it; for w'en a man promises, he's bound to stick to it."
Such devotion to principle was appropriately rewarded the very next day by the arrival of the trading prau in which the professor had embarked.
"We did not expect you nearly so soon," said Nigel, as they heartily shook hands.
"It vas because zee vind freshen soon after ve set sail—ant, zen, ve made a straight line for zis port, w'ereas you possibly crossed over, ant zen push down zee coast."
"Exactly so, and that accounts for your overtaking us," said the hermit. "Is that the lad Baso I see down there with the crew of the prau?"
"It is. You must have some strainch power of attracting frondship, Van der Kemp, for zee poor yout' is so fond of you zat he beg ant entreat me to take him, ant he says he vill go on vit zee traders if you refuse to let him follow you."
"Well, he may come. Indeed, we shall be the better for his services, for I had intended to hire a man here to help to carry our things. Much of our journeying, you see, must be done on foot."
Baso, to his great joy, thus became one of the party.
We pass over the next few days, which were spent in arranging and packing their provisions, etc., in such a way that each member of the party should carry on his shoulders a load proportioned to his strength. In this arrangement the professor, much against his will, was compelled to accept the lightest load in consideration of his liability to dart off in pursuit of creeping things and "bootterflies" at a moment's notice. The least damageable articles were also assigned to him in consideration of his tendency at all times to tumble into bogs and stumble over fallen trees, and lose himself, and otherwise get into difficulties.
We also pass over part of the journey from the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of Sumatra.
One evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. It was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. Having ascertained his exact position, Van der Kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest.
The trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent—some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. Others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. A forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled.
"A most suitable abode for tigers, I should think," remarked Nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him—for they marched in single file. "Are there any in these parts?"
"Ay, plenty. Indeed, it is because I don't like sleeping in their company that I am so anxious to reach a village."
"Are zey dangerows?" asked the professor, who followed close on Nigel.
"Well, they are not safe!" replied the hermit. "I had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago."
"Indeed! vat vas it?" asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. "Do tell us about it."
"With pleasure. It was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. I had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend——"
"Anozer frond!" exclaimed the professor; "vy, Van der Kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds."
"I have travelled much in it and made many friends," returned the hermit. "The horse that I borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after I set out. Business kept me longer than I expected, and it was getting dark before I started to return. Erelong the darkness became so intense that I could scarcely see beyond the horse's head, and could not distinguish the path. I therefore let the animal find his own way—knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. As we jogged along, I felt the horse tremble. Then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. I was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. Suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face—so close that its fur brushed my cheek—as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. I knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse."
"Are ve near to zee spote?" asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety.
"Not far from it!" replied the hermit, "but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party."
"Ve are not a very large party," returned the professor. "I do not zink I would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but I do not relish his choomping on me unavares. Push on, please."
They pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall.
Hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of Sumatra. The travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. It was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground.
"You have frunds here too, I zink," said Verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall.
"Well, yes—I believe I have two or three."
There could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed Van der Kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion.
"I do believe," said Nigel in some surprise, "that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!"
"Ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with Congreve matches—at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the Dutch and Chinese. Many of their old customs have passed away (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them."
"No doubt steam is zee cause of zee change," remarked the professor.
"That," said Nigel, "has a good deal to do with most things—from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause."
"Surely dese people mus' be reech," said the professor, looking round him with interest.
"They are rich enough—and well off in every respect, save that they don't know very well how to make use of their riches. As you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver."
There could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etc.,—all of solid gold and native-made—there were necklaces and collars composed of Spanish and American dollars and British half-crowns and other coins. In short, these Sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married—the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned!
As this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor's benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. Accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors' accommodation, and a youth named Grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest.
The house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. It also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etc., by the simple method of opening his window at night. A mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his matériel.
"I vil begin at vonce," said the eager man, on taking possession.
And he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. Then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter!
Moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. They entered by twos, fours, sixes—at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone.
"You enjoy this sort of thing?" said Nigel, as he was about to retire.
"Enchoy it? yes—it is 'paradise regained'!" He pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses.
"'Paradise lost' to the moth, anyhow," said Nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. Being rather tired with the day's journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep.
But our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night.
At length slumber descended on Nigel's spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. Sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then.
"What can he be up to now, I wonder?" murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily.
The hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh.
"Hallo, Moses! are you awake?" asked Nigel, in a low voice.
"Ho yes, Massa Nadgel. I's bin wakin' a good while, larfin fit to bu'st my sides. De purfesser's been agoin' on like a mad renoceros for more 'n an hour. He's arter suthin, which he can't ketch. Listen! You hear 'im goin' round an' round on his tip-toes. Dere goes anoder chair. I only hope he won't smash de lamp an' set de house a-fire."
"Veil, veil; I've missed him zee tence time. Nevair mind. Have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!"
Thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly.
"Why, Verkimier, what are you after?" cried Nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition.
"Ah! I am sorry to vake you," he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. "I have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is—hah! I have 'im at last!"
"What is it?" asked Nigel, becoming interested.
"Von leetle bat. He come in vis a moss——"
"A what?"
"A moss—a big, beautiful moss."
"Oh! a moth—well?"
"Vell, I shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen I hunt zee bat vith my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. Ant he is—sooch a—sooch a splendid specimen of a very rar' species, zee Coelops frizii—gootness! Zere goes zee lamp!"
The crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. The whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist's room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. Fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued.
After securing the Coelops frithii, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,—advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day.
"Vy, it is next day already!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch.
"Just so. Now do turn in."
"I vill."
And he did.
When the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of God, all things with life in earth and sea and sky—then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy.
Among the early risers that morning was our friend Moses. Gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish. Now, Moses was an ardent angler.
"I lub fishing," he said one day to Nigel when in a confidential mood; "I can't tell you how much I lub it. Seems to me dat der's nuffin' like it for proggin' a man!"
When Nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin' meant, Moses said he wasn't quite sure. He could "understand t'ings easy enough though he couldn't allers 'splain 'em." On the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning—it was a combination of poke and pull "wid a flavour ob ticklin' about it," and was rather pleasant.
"You see," he continued, "when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec' an' tickles up your fancy a leetle. When he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal. When a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper. An' when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t'roat, where it stick till you land him."
With surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that Moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little Malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools.
But there were no particular pools in that river It was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them. There were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly. The line used by Moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea. The bait was nothing in particular, but as the fish were not particular that was of no consequence. The reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so Moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast.
After breakfast the whole party went forth for what Verkimier styled "zee business of zee day," armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly nets.
In the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease. Being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village. Passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut.
We do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day's expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor's most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science.
At luncheon—which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree—plans for the afternoon were fixed.
"We have kept together long enough, I think," said Van der Kemp. "Those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return."
"Vell, let us divide," assented the amiable naturalist. Indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything—except giving up the hunt. "Von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay. I vill continue mine business. Zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last. Ve must remain two or tree veeks."
The hermit glanced at Nigel.
"I fear it is impossible for me to do so," said the latter. "I am pledged to return to Batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country I perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge."
"Ha! Zat is a peety. Vell, nevair mind. Let us enchoy to-day. Com', ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures."
Acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups—the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly net.
Now, as the party of natives,—including Baso, who carried the professor's biggest box, and Grogo, who bore his gun,—did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account! Thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest! But little cared the enthusiast for that—or, rather, little did he realise it. With perspiration streaming from every pore—except where the pores were stopped by mud—he dashed after "bootterflies" with the wisdom of Solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him. Then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance—and came to a sudden halt.
"Vat shall I do?" he asked.
Not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent.
"Lat me see. I have been vandering avay all dis time. Now, I have not'ing to do but right-about-face and vander back."
Could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive? He acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey.
Meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched.
"Where is the professor, Baso?" asked Van der Kemp as he came up.
Baso did not know, and looked at Grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with Nigel.
"I thought he was with you," said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit.
"He's goed an' lost hisself!" cried Moses with a look of concern.
Van der Kemp was a man of action. "Not a moment to lose," he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle.
"Let this be our meeting-place," he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; "and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally."
Meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be—and in truth was—"back."
He was not alone, however. In the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. By that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance. Suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man. Whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring. The professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other.
What the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous—almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous!
"Vat shall I do? Deaf stares me in zee face! No veapons! only a net, ant he is not a bootterfly! Science, adieu! Home of my chilthood, farevell! My moder—Hah! zee fusees!"
Such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. The last thought however led to action. Verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker. He carried fusees. Slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. The tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring. Bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars!
The effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. With a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail—undoubtedly though not evidently—between its legs!
Heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead. Then he listened intently.
"A shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again.
He was right. Another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. Hurrying along the track—not without occasional side-glances at the jungle—the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger.
But Verkimier's anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised. The evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans. In the middle of the night a native Malay youth named Babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief. That worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing Van der Kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say. An expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit's usually placid countenance while Babu was speaking.
"It is fate!" he murmured, as if communing with himself—then, after a pause—"no, there is no such thing as fate. It is, it must be, the will of God. Go, young man, mention this to no one. I thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake."
"It is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you," returned the lad earnestly. "Every one loves you, Van der Kemp, because that curse of mankind, revenge, has no place in your breast."
"Strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!" said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. "Revenge no place in me!—but I thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me. My life is not worth much to any one. It will not matter, I think, if my enemy should succeed. Go now, Babu, and God be with you!"
"He will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once," rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision. "Baderoon is furious at all times. He is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans—so it is said—very often. If he knew that I am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death. I will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach."
The hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise.
"How comes it," he said, "that you are so much interested in me? I remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service."
"Do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying? You nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own. I do not forget that, Van der Kemp. Sympathy is of more value than service."
"Strangely mistaken again!" murmured the hermit. "Who can know the workings of the human mind! Self was mixed with my feelings—profoundly—yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere."
"We never doubted that," returned Babu with a touch of surprise in his tone.
"Well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?" asked the hermit with some curiosity.
"I will go on with you to the next village. It is a large one. The chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, I know, in any way I wish. I will tell him what I know and have heard of the pirate's intention, of which I have proof. He will order Baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives. Then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach. That is not unjust."
"True—and I am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do. Indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind. It is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins. The suspicion that detains Baderoon is more than justified, for I could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and I know him to be a murderer."
At breakfast-time Van der Kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the Malay lad during the night. This, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,—though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled.
"It is very misfortunate," he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice. "You see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens I could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent Amblypodia eumolpus ant ozer bootterflies—ach!-a leetle mor' feesh if you please. Zanks. My frond, it is a great sacrifice, but I vill go avay viz you, for I could not joostify myself if I forzook you, ant I cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher."
"I appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly," said the hermit.
"So does I," said Moses, helping himself to coffee; "but ob course if I didn't it would be all de same. Pass de venison, Massa Nadgel, an' don't look as if you was goin' to gib in a'ready. It spoils my appetite."
"You will have opportunities," continued Van der Kemp, addressing the professor, "to gather a good many specimens as we go along. Besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in Krakatoa with a visit, I promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research. You have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains."
Hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure.
"But how," he asked, "am I to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t'ree, as you have told me."
"There are plenty of boats to be had. Besides, I can send over my own boat for you to the mainland. The distance is not great."
"Goot. Zat vill do. I am happay now."
"So," remarked Nigel as he went off with Moses to pack up, "his 'paradise regained' is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken! 'Off wi' the old love and on wi' the new.' 'The expulsive power of a new affection!'"
"Das true, Massa Nadgel," observed Moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "De purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'Pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. He kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on. If he could only lay hold ob Baderoon an' stuff an' stick him in a moozeum, he'd do good service to my massa an' also to de whole ob mankind."
After letting the chief of the village know that the news just received rendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the next town—but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest Baderoon should by any means be led to suspect their intentions—the party started off about daybreak under the guidance of the Malay youth Babu.
Anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, Nigel could not help wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionable courage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate.
"I can't understand it at all," he said to Moses, as they walked through the forest together a little in rear of the party.
"No more kin I, Massa Nadgel," answered the negro, with one of those shakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he was wont to regard matters that were too deep for him.
"Surely Van der Kemp is well able to take care of himself against any single foe."
"Das true, Massa Nadgel,—'gainst any half-dozen foes as well."
"Fear, therefore, cannot be the cause."
The negro received this with a quiet chuckle.
"No," said he. "Massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be bery sure, massa's allers got good reasons for what he does. One t'ing's sartin, I neber saw him do nuffin for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no, nor yet for fun; allers for lub—and," added Moses, after a moment's thought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition—but he don't make much account ob dat."
"Well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said Nigel, as they closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a short rest and some refreshment.
This last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, and a little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down.
In the afternoon they reached the town—a large one, with a sort of market-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival was crowded with people. Strangers, especially Europeans, were not often seen in that region, so that Van der Kemp and his friends at once attracted a considerable number of followers. Among these was one man who followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rear of the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of propriety. This man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round his head pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with an accident or been wounded. He was unarmed, with the exception of the kriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries.
This was no other than Baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies, had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried on in advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described, he awaited their arrival.
Babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief man of the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that the pirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. Meanwhile he appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night.
Baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house, glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellers while eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of the building where Van der Kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus taking possession of his intended couch! He did not, however, see that the hermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that Babu, desiring to be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot.
In the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had sought repose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he had concealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in which his enemy lay.
Native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built on posts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which is available as a store or lumber-room. It is also unfortunately available for evil purposes. The bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but that sounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below. Voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested his steps. They were those of Van der Kemp and Nigel engaged in conversation. Baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake and conversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a position suitable to his fell purpose. He crouched therefore among some lumber like a tiger abiding its time.
"Why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked Nigel, who was resolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of the mystery.
For some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice he said slowly—
"Because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. I have striven to crush it, but cannot. I fear to meet him lest I kill him."
"Has he, then, done you such foul wrong?"
"Ay, he has cruelly—fiendishly—done the worst he could. He robbed me of my only child—but I may not talk of it. The unholy desire for vengeance burns more fiercely when I talk. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.' My constant prayer is that I may not meet him. Good-night."
As the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down and drew his blanket over him. Nigel followed his example, wondering at what he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathing told that they were both asleep. Then Baderoon advanced and counted the bamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. When looking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planks above. Standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a few seconds, and drew his kriss. The place was almost pitch dark, yet the blade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on the pirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yet deliberately, between the bamboos.
A shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night. At the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer's face before he could leap aside. Instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused. When a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, Van der Kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor Babu, who was at his last gasp. A faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips. Then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back—dead.
One great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room.
Vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on Baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found. He was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. When daybreak enabled the townspeople to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered.
Flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. The guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity. While the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, Baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity. It was not very long of coming.
Towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation.
"I will not now proceed until we have buried poor Babu," said Van der Kemp. "Besides, Baderoon will be sure to return. I will meet him now."
"I do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "Zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain. He knows vat avaits him if he comes."
"He will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not now rest till he has killed me."
Even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street. The sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word "a-mok" was heard. At the sound of that word numbers of people—specially women and children—turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses. Among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions.
We have already referred to that strange madness, to which the Malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left. From the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them.
Another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped with the gore of those whom he had already stabbed. Catching sight of the white men he made straight for them. He was possessed of only one eye, but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozen eyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gave him an appalling aspect.
"It is Baderoon!" said Van der Kemp in a subdued but stern tone.
Nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. His face was deadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange, almost unearthly light, and his lips were firmly compressed. With a sudden nervous motion, unlike his usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to Nigel's surprise cast it away from him. At that moment a woman who came in the madman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with her dying shriek as she fell. No one could have saved her, the act was so quickly done. Van der Kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it was too late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac, recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like a triumphant yell. Seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, as well as unmoved, regarding Baderoon with a fixed gaze, Nigel stepped a pace in advance to protect him, but Van der Kemp seized his arm and thrust him violently aside. Next moment the pirate was upon him with uplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthy of Samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quite stunned.
Before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment held back, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozen knives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprang forward to protect his enemy from their fury. But the man whose wife had been the last victim came up at the moment, and led an irresistible rush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowded round him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces.
"I did not kill him—thank God!" muttered Van der Kemp as he left the market-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered were wailing over their dead.
After this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, so that early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending to make a short stay at the next village. Failing to reach it that night, however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. Fortunately they came upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so, with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. From the summit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent view of the forest. Many of the trees were crowned with flowers among which the setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence.
Van der Kemp and Nigel stood together apart from the others, contemplating the wonderful scene.
"What must be the dwelling-place of the Creator Himself when his footstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice.
"That is beyond mortal ken," said Nigel.
"True—true. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it. Yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our souls to the contemplation of the celestial."
"And yet how signally it has failed in the case of Baderoon," returned Nigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quite recovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "Would it be presumptuous if I were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmity against you?"
"It is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "The truth is, I had discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have been the means of preventing his intended deeds of violence—as in the case of the Dyaks whom we have so lately visited. Besides, the man had done me irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of human experience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they have done so."
"May I venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?" said Nigel with some hesitancy.
For some moments the hermit did not answer. He was evidently struggling with some suppressed feeling. Turning a look full upon his young friend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice—
"I have never mentioned my grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased God to draw a cloud of thickest darkness over my life. But, Nigel, there is that in you which encourages confidence. I confess that more than once I have been tempted to tell you of my grief—for human hearts crave intelligent sympathy. My faithful servant and friend Moses is, no doubt, intensely sympathetic, but—but—well, I cannot understand, still less can I explain, why I shrink from making a confidant of him. Certainly it is not because of his colour, for I hold that the souls of men are colourless!
"I need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued the hermit. "I lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was left with a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that of her mother every day she lived. My soul was wrapped up in the child. After three years I went with her as a passenger to Batavia. On the way we were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. Baderoon was the pirate captain. He killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank the vessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my child into one junk while I was retained, bound, in the other."
He paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon, with a longing, wistful look. At the same time something like an electric shock passed through Nigel's frame, for was not this narrative strangely similar in its main features to that which his own father had told him on the Keeling Islands about beautiful little Kathleen Holbein and her father? He was on the point of seizing the hermit by the hand and telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks by pirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might have lost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might be wrong. It would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in his poor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being well founded. He would wait and hear more. He had just come to this conclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused, when Van der Kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative—
"I know not how it was, unless the Lord gave me strength for a purpose as he gave it to Samson of old, but when I recovered from the stinging blow I had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my child scream, I felt the strength of a lion come over me; I burst the bonds that held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. But it was otherwise ordained. A breeze which had sprung up freshened, and the junk soon left me far behind. As for the other junk, I never saw it again, for I never looked back or thought of it—only, as I left it, I heard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, I afterwards found out, owned and commanded both junks."
Nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept him silent.
"Need I say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in my breast from that day forward? If I had met the man soon after that, I should certainly have slain him. But God mercifully forbade it. Since then He has opened my eyes to see the Crucified One who prayed for His enemies. And up till now I have prayed most earnestly that Baderoon and I might not meet. My prayer has not been answered in the way I wished, but a better answer has been granted, for the sin of revenge was overcome within me before we met."
Van der Kemp paused again.
"Go on," said Nigel, eagerly. "How did you escape?"
"Escape! Where was I—Oh! I remember," said the hermit, awaking as if out of a dream "Well, I swam after the junk until it was out of sight, and then I swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted that I felt consciousness leaving me. Then I knew that the end must be near and I felt almost glad; but when I began to sink, the natural desire to prolong life revived, and I struggled on. Just as my strength began a second time to fail, I struck against something. It was a dead cocoa-nut tree. I laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. Next morning I was picked up by some fishermen who were going to Telok Betong by the outer passage round Sebesi Island, and were willing to land me there. But as my business connections had been chiefly with the town of Anjer, I begged of them to land me on the island of Krakatoa. This they did, and it has been my home ever since. I have been there many years."
"Have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked Nigel eagerly, and with deep sympathy.
"Never—I have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; into the interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to find her. I have long since felt that she must be dead—for—for she could not live with the monsters who stole her away."
A certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of the eyes, suggested to Nigel that revenge was not yet dead within the hermit's breast, although it had been overcome.
"What was her name?" asked Nigel, willing to gain time to think how he ought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the sudden communication of the news might have on his friend.
"Winnie—darling Winnie—after her mother," said the hermit with deep pathos in his tone.
A feeling of disappointment came over our hero. Winnie bore not the most distant resemblance to Kathleen!
"Did you ever, during your search," asked Nigel slowly, "visit the Cocos-Keeling Islands?"
"Never. They are too far from where the attack on us was made."
"And you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and——"
"Why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise.
Nigel felt that he had almost gone too far.
"Well, you know—" he replied in some confusion, "you—you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which I do most profoundly, and—and—in short, I would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. Men should never give way to despair."
"Thank you. It is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "But it is vain. Hope is dead now."
They were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. At the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest.