Produced by Michael Oltz, Suzanne Lybarger, Martin Pettit
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: Blown to Bits or The Lonely Man of Rakata]
[Illustration: CAME UNEXPECTEDLY ON A CAVERN."--PAGE
112.--(_Frontispiece_.)]
BLOWN TO BITS
OR
THE LONELY MAN OF RAKATA.
A Tale of the Malay Archipelago.
BY R.M. BALLANTYNE,
AUTHOR OF "BLUE LIGHTS, OR HOT WORK IN THE SOUDAN;" "THE FUGITIVES;"
"RED ROONEY;" "THE ROVER OF THE ANDES;" "THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST;" "THE
RED ERIC;" "FREAKS ON THE FELLS;" "THE YOUNG TRAWLER;" "DUSTY DIAMONDS;"
"THE BATTERY AND THE BOILER;" "POST HASTE;" "BLACK IVORY;" "THE IRON
HORSE;" "FIGHTING THE FLAMES;" "THE LIFEBOAT;" ETC. ETC.
With Illustrations by the Author.
_EIGHTH THOUSAND_.
LONDON:
JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET.
1894.
[_All rights reserved_.]
PREFACE.
The extremely violent nature of the volcanic eruption in Krakatoa in
1883, the peculiar beauty of those parts of the eastern seas where the
event occurred, the wide-spread influences of the accompanying
phenomena, and the tremendous devastation which resulted, have all
inspired me with a desire to bring the matter, in the garb of a tale,
before that portion of the juvenile world which accords me a hearing.
For most of the facts connected with the eruption which have been
imported into my story, I have to acknowledge myself indebted to the
recently published important and exhaustive "Report" of the Krakatoa
Committee, appointed by the Royal Society to make a thorough
investigation of the whole matter in all its phases.
I have also to acknowledge having obtained much interesting and useful
information from the following among other works:--_The Malay
Archipelago_, by A.R. Wallace; _A Naturalist's Wanderings in the Eastern
Archipelago_, by H.O. Forbes; and Darwin's _Journal of Researches_ round
the world in H.M.S. "Beagle."
R.M. BALLANTYNE.
HARROW-ON-THE HILL, 1889.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAP. I.--THE PLAY COMMENCES, 1
II.--THE HAVEN IN THE CORAL RING, 9
III.--INTERESTING PARTICULARS OF VARIOUS KINDS, 19
IV.--NIGEL UNDERGOES SOME QUITE NEW AND INTERESTING
EXPERIENCES, 33
V.--CAPTAIN ROY SURPRISES AND GRATIFIES HIS SON,
WHO SURPRISES A NEGRO, AND SUDDENLY FORMS
AN ASTONISHING RESOLVE, 47
VI.--THE HERMIT OF RAKATA INTRODUCED, 58
VII.--WONDERS OF THE HERMIT'S CAVE AND ISLAND, 72
VIII.--PERBOEWATAN BECOMES MODERATELY VIOLENT, 89
IX.--DESCRIBES, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A SINGULAR MEETING
UNDER PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES, 99
X.--A CURIOUS SEA-GOING CRAFT--THE UNKNOWN VOYAGE
BEGUN, 111
XI.--CANOEING ON THE SEA--A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT-SURPRISE
AND SUDDEN FLIGHT, 123
XII.--WEATHERING A STORM IN THE OPEN SEA, 140
XIII.--FRIENDS ARE MET WITH, ALSO PIRATES, AND A
LIFE-OR-DEATH PADDLE ENSUES, 153
XIV.--A NEW FRIEND FOUND--NEW DANGERS ENCOUNTERED
AND NEW HOPES DELAYED, 173
XV.--HUNTING THE GREAT MAN-MONKEY, 189
XVI.--BEGINS WITH A TERRIBLE FIGHT AND ENDS WITH
A HASTY FLIGHT, 204
XVII.--TELLS OF THE JOYS, ETC., OF THE PROFESSOR IN
THE SUMATRAN FORESTS, ALSO OF A CATASTROPHE
AVERTED, 217
XVIII.--A TRYING ORDEAL--DANGER THREATENS AND
FLIGHT AGAIN RESOLVED ON, 230
XIX.--A TERRIBLE MURDER AND A STRANGE REVELATION, 243
XX.--NIGEL MAKES A CONFIDANT OF MOSES--UNDERTAKES
A LONELY WATCH AND SEES SOMETHING WONDERFUL, 259
XXI.--IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF, 276
XXII.--A PYTHON DISCOVERED AND A GEYSER INTERVIEWED, 297
XXIII.--TELLS OF VOLCANIC FIRES AND A STRANGE
RETURN "HOME," 307
XXIV.--AN AWFUL NIGHT AND TERRIBLE MORNING, 324
XXV.--ADVENTURES OF THE "SUNSHINE" AND AN UNEXPECTED
REUNION, 343
XXVI.--A CLIMAX, 361
XXVII.--"BLOWN TO BITS," 371
XXVIII.--THE FATE OF THE "SUNSHINE," 377
XXIX.--TELLS CHIEFLY OF THE WONDERFUL EFFECTS OF
THIS ERUPTION ON THE WORLD AT LARGE, 385
XXX.--COMING EVENTS, ETC.--WONDERFUL CHANGES
AMONG THE ISLANDS, 401
XXXI.--ENDS WITH A STRUGGLE BETWEEN INCLINATION
AND DUTY, 414
XXXII.--THE LAST, 425
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VIGNETTE TITLE.
"HE CAME UNEXPECTEDLY ON A CAVERN."--PAGE 112, _Frontispiece_.
ART ON THE KEELING ISLANDS, _facing page_ 36
THEY DISCOVER A PIRATES' BIVOUAC, 164
"DO YOU HEAR?" SAID VERKIMIER, STERNLY, 187
BLOWN TO BITS 342
BLOWN TO BITS
A TALE OF THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO.
CHAPTER I.
THE PLAY COMMENCES.
Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically"
small that--but let us not anticipate.
About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large
brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the
Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes,
coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay Archipelago.
Two men slowly paced the brig's quarter-deck for some time in silence,
as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had
infected them. Both men were broad, and apparently strong. One of them
was tall; the other short. More than this the feeble light of the
binnacle-lamp failed to reveal.
"Father," said the tall man to the short one, "I do like to hear the
gentle pattering of the reef points on the sails; it is so suggestive of
peace and rest. Doesn't it strike you so?"
"Can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which,
naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and
gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather.
"More suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way."
The son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with
the scene and hour.
"Why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly
practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. I had almost
risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences
of nature."
"Glad I got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of
the brig--for such the short man was. "When a young fellow like you gets
up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon--scarce knows
how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has
no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man
in the moon. Take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as
fast as ye can. It don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as
first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a
seaman. When I sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than
myself, I had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry."
The captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to
convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn.
"Why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a
gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not
school that put poetry into me--if indeed there be any in me at all."
"What was it, then?"
"It was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't
object to poetry in _her_."
"Object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a
Nor'wester. "Of course not. But then, Nigel, poetry in your mother _is_
poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything that
Dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, I forget his name--ever
put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded
off at the corners, French-polished and all shipshape. Ha! you needn't
go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up in the
clouds, reef-point-patterin', balloon-like nonsense."
"Well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; I won't offend again.
Besides, I'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give
mother her right position. We won't disagree about that, but I suspect
that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned."
"What other matter?" demanded the sire.
"My doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "It must be quite
evident to you by this time, I should think, that I am not cut out for a
sailor. After all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long
voyage round the Cape, I'm no better than an amateur. I told you that a
youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the
sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time.
It is absurd to call me first mate of the _Sunshine_. That is in reality
Mr. Moor's position--"
"No, it isn't, Nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "Mr.
Moor is _second_ mate. _I_ say so, an' if I, the skipper and owner o'
this brig, don't know it, I'd like to know who does! Now, look here,
lad. You've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an'
contradictin' your father. I'm an old salt, you know, an' I tell 'ee
that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had,
you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. You're no more an ammytoor than I am,
and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all
over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let
your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--"
"With the Poetess," suggested Nigel.
"Just so--wi' the equal o' Dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. Now
it seems to me--. How's 'er head?"
The captain suddenly changed the subject here.
Nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine
the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but
manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery
voice that belonged to it.
"Nor'-east-and-by-east," he said.
"Are 'ee sure, lad?"
"Your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately
expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?"
"Let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and
stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye.
The flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature
had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of
wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without
evidences of the conflict. At the same time it revealed features similar
to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being
smothered in hair.
"Vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed
inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one."
"What d' you mean, father?"
"I mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away--in the neighbourhood
o' Sunda Straits," answered the Captain, directing attention to that
point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "Darkness
like this don't happen without a cause. I've had some experience o' them
seas before now, an' depend upon it that Vulcan is stirring up some o'
the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the Straits
Settlements."
"By which you mean, I suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the
Malay Archipelago has become active," said Nigel; "but are we not some
five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of Sunda? Surely the
influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far."
"So far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to
indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your
book-learnin', about volcanoes."
"I don't profess to know much, father," retorted Nigel in a tone of
cheery defiance.
"Why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck,
"explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay _hundreds_, of
miles. I thought I heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual
darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's
wonderful what fools the imag--. Hallo! D'ee feel _that_?"
He went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an
arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating
of fine dust.
"Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the
cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. That glance
caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. At the same
moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend
were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met.
Seamen are well used to sudden danger--especially in equatorial
seas--and to prompt, unquestioning action. Not many minutes elapsed
before the _Sunshine_ was under the smallest amount of sail she could
carry. Even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was
tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale
soon raised into raging billows.
The storm came from the Sunda Straits about which the captain and his
son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing
but scud before it under almost bare poles. All that night it raged.
Towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the back-stays
of the foremast gave way. The result was that the additional strain thus
thrown on the other stays was too much for them. They also parted, and
the fore-top-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot,
went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear
along with it.