THE MERGUI ARCHIPELAGO.
“Alone she sat—alone! that worn-out word,
So idly spoken and so coldly heard;
Yet all the poets sing, and grief hath known,
Of hope laid waste, knells in that word—alone!”
Anyone glancing at a map of the world’s two hemispheres, cannot fail to
notice that all the continents end in more or less pointed extremities
looking due south, and that most of the larger islands, showing length
in lieu of breadth, also lie nearly due north and south. The first
half of the above remark is pointed by such examples as South America,
Africa, India, and the prolongation from China in the direction now
under notice; while the latter finds expression in the larger islands
of the West India group; also in Sumatra, Java, Flores, Timor, New
Guinea, and many others. Any attempt at an explanation of this curious
symmetry in the conformation of our earth would be more appropriate to
a manual of geography; and as it would involve the balancing of the
many theories in favour of a local or universal deluge, I shall not
enter into it.
The islands of the archipelago we were now approaching partook much
of the same character. After a run of three hundred miles we came to
them, a group keeping remarkably equidistant from the mainland, as far
as Wellesley in the Malay Peninsula. Exceedingly beautiful and tempting
they looked, as we passed each in turn; all well wooded, their shores
composed, as the mainland, of sand and rock, but the only signs of
life came from a few birds flitting about the trees, and a stray turtle
basking on the shore. Man had not set his mark on the place.
As the steamer could not put us ashore we had to satisfy our curiosity
by the aid of the glass. One island, the largest we had yet passed,
was, so the captain told me, associated with that historical period
when the French and ourselves were still trying conclusions as to which
power was to be predominant in the East.
An opening in the side facing the mainland led to a sort of basin in
the interior of the island, a natural dock, which the French found very
handy for their vessels under repairs. The British fleet was then in
pursuit of them, and probably passed in sight of this identical island,
never dreaming of the snug retreat within. Otherwise, it had gone badly
with the French, who would have been caught in a trap; for a single
British vessel would have sufficed to guard the entrance, until the
enemy capitulated.
As we surveyed each island in turn, striving in vain to distinguish
some signs of higher animal life, and wondering why such beautiful
spots should continue uninhabited, my thoughts wandered into the region
of fancy, and pictured many things.
So strong in me was the desire of leading a Robinson Crusoe kind of
existence on one of them, that I must have given my thoughts audible
expression, for I heard a voice beside me, “No, you wouldn’t; and if
you did you’d be sorry for it!” I saw that the speaker was a merchant,
the owner of a coasting vessel; and as he refused to explain his
interruption, I might have considered it an impertinence on his part,
but that his face betrayed unwonted sadness. For two days he made no
further allusion to the subject, and I was left to speculate upon
the probable cause of his emotion; someone he loved, perhaps, fell
overboard opposite that identical island into the jaws of a ravenous
shark. Or maybe, a quarrel arose among his Lascars, who forthwith ran
amuck, staining his decks with blood, and branding his good ship with
an evil reputation.
Or, if both these conjectures were erroneous, he may have been driven
ashore through carelessness or a storm, suffering thereby pecuniary
loss as well as bodily injury.
As usual, my speculations were all at fault. One evening after
dinner, my fellow-passenger told me his tale; and as it will serve
as a warning to those of my readers who are given to dwelling in airy
castles, besides affording a more specific description of the general
characteristics of these islands than my own personal experience would
enable me to give, I make no apology for reproducing it, while we are
still in sight of the archipelago.
He was, as I have already mentioned, a trader, the owner of a
sailing-vessel, in which he conveyed merchandise between the various
ports along the coast. It was an independent and profitable method of
doing business, and his Lascars were all hard-working, steady men.
Sailing to and fro past these islands, the idea of residing on one of
them for a time, Crusoe fashion, grew upon him with such force, that it
finally became irresistible.
The first move in the wrong direction was landing, and roaming about
the island—the identical one that had attracted my attention two days
previously—with one of his men.
Not content, however, he constructed a temporary abode on the side
facing the mainland, which was fitted up in a rude way with some of
the ship’s furniture; and as nothing ever passed on that side of the
island, save the mail steamer and his own vessel, he left everything
there in perfect security, his mind occupied in thinking of the various
essential articles which had to be taken out on successive trips, and
eagerly looking forward to the time when he should take up his abode
there.
At length, everything was ready, and he determined to try the
experiment during the next voyage to Moulmein. His men, with the
customary politeness of natives in respect of the actions of any
European, forbore from questioning his intentions, which they may have
guessed to some extent, though certainly not _in toto_.
It only remained to send for his head man, explain the state of affairs
to him, and hand over the care of the ship. That worthy received the
charge without a word of surprise or remonstrance; and, although he
knew that he was about to commit a rash act, and would have given
worlds to retract, he now felt that having shared his plans with a
subordinate, he must go through with them at any cost.
It was his last night on board. He tossed about in his cabin, picturing
to himself all manner of evils and unknown dangers, till thoughts
became dreams, and he enjoyed a troubled sleep.
Next morning, however, Aurora’s harbinger dispelled his gloomy fears;
and he was more firmly wedded to his purpose than ever.
There was a good deal of whispering among the men, until one of them,
acting as spokesman, endeavoured with native eloquence to dissuade
him from his ill-advised purpose; but he threw away this last golden
opportunity of retiring gracefully from a most awkward position, and
was duly landed with a gun and some ammunition, together with such
creature comforts as the occasion demanded.
After carrying the things up to the hut, the men salaam’d and returned
to the ship, which soon sailed out of sight.
Then for the first time did he realize the significance of the word
“solitude”: the very voice of nature seemed hushed, and an unearthly
silence pervaded the entire scene. Returning to the hut, he lit a lamp
and sank into an easy-chair with his gun close at hand. Here he slept
for some time, being visited by the most fanciful dreams, and was at
length startled into consciousness by the falling of his shot-belt.
When he awoke, his usual supper hour was long past; but unable to eat
anything, he uncorked a bottle of beer, and the noise seemed terrific
in the midst of that deathlike silence—everything frightened him, the
cry of a bird, the moaning of a larger wave than usual on the shore.
Next morning he busied himself about the hut, and tried fishing; but
he could not settle down to any occupation. Above all, he dreaded
the lonely evening and the wakeful night. He had food in variety and
abundance, but the desire to eat was in abeyance. Another night of
nervous anxiety: he kept his door securely fastened, although he knew
that nothing was there to enter, even had it been left wide open.
His fears now took the form of savages visiting the island to feast,
perchance, on prisoners captured in some recent encounter.
On the third night, he managed to fortify the hut in some measure;
loaded both his guns, and saw to his revolver, which lay under his
pillow, and which he grasped many times during the night, as his
disordered imagination conjured up some visionary danger.
The fourth day, he awoke with the same ideas uppermost in his mind,
opened the door of his hut cautiously and stole out on to the shore.
In vain he looked all ways for a sail, half expecting to see a canoe
full of savages down by the beach. Standing on a lofty ledge of rock
and looking down into the clear, deep water, he watched the fish
darting to and fro; and a horrible propensity to throw himself in and
end his troubles in the bowels of a shark rushed upon him. It was but
ephemeral; yet he turned his back on the sea, for fear lest it should
grow upon him.
The desire often came upon him to shout; but weighed down by the
silence of his surroundings, he dared not even speak aloud.
But the consciousness of self-control in having resisted that fearful
temptation had a good effect upon him, for he soon entered on a more
peaceful and contented frame of mind.
One day, he bethought him of another attempt at fishing, and he managed
with a couple of handlines to catch numbers of the unsuspecting fish,
when suddenly he saw the back fin of a shark. Either the shock caused
by this unwelcome sight, or a tug more violent than usual caused him
to lose his footing on the slippery rock, and he fell into the water.
Strange coincidence! to have almost succumbed by accident to the fate
he had nearly courted by design! Half a dozen strokes placed him out of
danger; and when he looked round there was the shark darting about in
the very place, attracted no doubt by the commotion. Never again would
he try fishing on that island.
He returned to the hut and changed his wet clothes; and on revisiting
the spot the same afternoon, found several sharks there, all seeking
the cause of the splash, hoping against hope that their diligence might
be rewarded.
His attention was next directed to that interesting amphibian that
visited the shore at this season for the purpose of depositing its eggs
in the sand—the turtle.
He turned one and despatched it for the table; then following
its footprints away from the sea, he came upon its eggs, pretty,
waxy-looking specimens, and very good eating when properly baked. The
turtle found in these parts doubtless belonged to the ordinary edible
species, the _Chelonia virgata_; a variety lacking the green fat found
in those peculiar to the West Indies, and therefore beneath the notice
of an alderman.
At last, after many days of watching and weariness, during which he was
utterly weakened in body and mind, this voluntary Crusoe espied a sail
on the far horizon over towards Moulmein. Nearer and nearer it came,
until he lit a huge bonfire of dry leaves and fired off several charges
from his gun.
All this was unnecessary, for it was his own ship coming back for him.
The joy of the meeting between master and men was mutual. It seemed
ages since he had heard the sound of a human voice; and, surrounded by
his trustworthy Lascars, he made his first hearty meal under that roof.
And the last; for after a stroll round the island, during which he
showed the men the rock from which he had fallen, they carried the
chattels back to the ship and quitted the island for good and all.
His men—faithful souls—unable to bear the suspense any longer, had
turned back for him, at the risk of incurring his displeasure, before
they had got half way to Moulmein.
Such was the burden of his narrative, which occupied nearly two hours,
so that it was late ere we turned in. Sounds issuing from the captain’s
cabin proved unmistakably that he was in the Land of Nod; and I soon
joined in the melody, dreaming all manner of things connected with an
island, a kind of “dream within a dream.”
The captain asked me next morning what had kept us conversing up to so
late an hour of the night, so that I shrewdly suspect the hum of our
voices disturbed the first part of his rest.
I had, however, promised my fellow-passenger not to make any further
allusion to the subject of his story within his hearing, so the captain
had to be content with a promise that I would entertain him therewith
as soon as Mr. —— had left the ship.