Nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage along
the northern shore of Java to Sunda Straits. A fair, steady breeze
wafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came in
sight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of Krakatoa.
The boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a small
portion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friend
could find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep, and from
the fierce rays of the sun at noon.
By the advice of his father, Nigel had changed his sailor costume for
the "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the Keeling Islands,
as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, a
white cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect his
neck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strong
canvas trousers. He had also purchased an old-fashioned
double-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussion
locks.
"For you see, Nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to use
breech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supply
you wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-way
waters, there's nothin' like the old style. It's not difficult to carry
a few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you wherever
you go. As to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere,
an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on it
you could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick into
your gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o'
cartridges, where are you?"
So, as Nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had been
purchased.
The peak of Rakata--the highest in the island--a little over 2600 feet,
came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of the
horizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable.
Krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world's
history; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract the
wondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediate
neighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of
(1883) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundred
years. Its last explosion occurred in the year 1680. Since that date
it had remained quiet. But now the tremendous subterranean forces which
had originally called it into being were beginning to reassert their
existence and their power. Vulcan was rousing himself again and
beginning once more to blow his bellows. So said some of the sailors
who were constantly going close past the island and through Sunda
Straits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to the
China seas.
Subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or less
violently in those regions that people took little notice of these
indications in the comparatively small island of Krakatoa, which was
between five and six miles long by four broad.
As we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does between
Sumatra and Java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twenty
miles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. The
hermit whom Nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted an
inhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cave
which was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. How
he spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went to
the neighbouring town of Anjer in Java for supplies, and sometimes to
Batavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forest
could have been less communicative than he. Indeed, our hero was the
first to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterious
sympathy to which reference has already been made. Some of the bolder
of the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times made
futile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the few
who got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that a
kind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at a
respectful distance.
He was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feet
broad, a chest like a sugar-hogs-head, and a countenance resembling a
compound of orang-utan and tiger.
Of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as Moses declined
to give any information regarding his master beyond that already given,
he was left to the full play of his imagination.
Moses was quite candid about it. He made no pretence to shroud things
in mystery.
"You mus' know, Massa Nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the
island, "I's 'fraid ob 'im dough I lub 'im."
"But why do you love him, Moses?"
"'Cause he sabe my life an' set me free."
"Indeed? well, that is good reason. And why do you fear him?"
"Da's what I don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look.
"Is he harsh, then?"
"No."
"Passionate?"
"No. Gentle as a lamb."
"Strong?"
"Yes--oh! mighty strong an' big."
"Surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, Moses?"
"Oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "I's
not 'fraid ob dat. I's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. Don't
care nuffin' at all for a lickin'!"
"Then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, Moses, for
I know of no other kind of fear."
"Pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now I wouldn't
wonder if you's right, Massa Nadgel. It neber come into my head in dat
light before. I used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when I's tired ob
countin' my fingers an' toes. But I couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _Now_
I knows! It's 'fraid I am ob hurtin' his feelin's."
In the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standing
puzzle, Moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormous
mouth and chuckled.
By the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near to
Krakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began to
point out to Nigel its various localities. There were three prominent
peaks on it, he said, named respectively, Perboewatan, about 400 feet
high, at the northern end of the island; Danan, near the centre, 1500
feet; and Rakata, at the southern end, over 2600 feet. It was high up
on the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit was
situated.
"And you won't tell me your master's name?" said Nigel.
Moses shook his woolly head. "No, sar, no. I's 'fraid ob him--he! he!
I 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!"
"Well, never mind; I'll find it out from himself soon. By the way, what
were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white
gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?"
"Well, I dun know. Not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an'
grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an'
cracks like somet'in' bustin' down b'low, an' massa he shook 'is head
two or t'ree times an' look solemn. He don't often do dat--shook 'is
head, I mean--for he mostly always looks solemn."
A few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among the
rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in
diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand.
The shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour
might easily have been passed without being observed.
Jumping ashore, Moses made the painter fast to a tree.
"What a quiet, cosy place!" said Nigel, as he sprung on the beach and
looked admiringly round.
"Yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. We will leabe de
boat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave."
"Is it far?" asked Nigel.
"A good bit--near de top ob de mountain," answered the negro, who looked
at his companion somewhat uneasily.
"Why, what's the matter, Moses?"
"Nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' what
you bin up to, an' whar you're a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jist
you answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler."
"Wages! man, what d'ye mean?"
"Well, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air of
profound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger like
myself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usual
expeditions jus' now, so he sends me to Batavia to git anoder man--`a
good one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to ax
me what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, I--"
"You scoundrel!" cried Nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean to
tell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?"
"Well, not zackly," returned Moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn't
ax no wages unless you like."
"But what if I don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with a
savage frown.
"You kin go home agin," answered Moses, humbly.
Nigel could contain himself no longer. As he observed the man's
deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of
hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the
smile of the guiltless.
"Come," said Nigel at last. "Lead on, you rascal! When I see your
master I shall know what to say."
"All right, Massa Nadgel, but mind what you say, else I won't answer for
de consikences. Foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road is
roughish."
The negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a mere
footpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding round
the base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest,
elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea.
Moses walked at such a pace that Nigel, young and active though he was,
found it no easy matter to keep up with him. Pride, however, forbade
him to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even converse
now and then in tones of simulated placidity. At last the path turned
abruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in a
small shallow cave. Any one following the path out of mere curiosity
would have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it;
and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a rather
uninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen at
a single glance from its mouth.
But this cave served in reality as a blind. Climbing by one or two
projecting points, the negro, closely followed by Nigel, reached a
narrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. On coming to the end
of the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the track
again became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava.
Here the ascent became very steep, and Moses put on what sporting men
call a spurt, which took him far ahead of Nigel, despite the best
efforts of the latter to keep up. Still our hero scorned to run or call
out to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. He pushed
steadily on, and managed to keep the active Moses in view.
Presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on the
cliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky.
There Nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commanding
figure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions.
The two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching Nigel. The
latter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recover
breath and approach with a leisurely aspect.
"The wild man of the island, I suppose," he thought as he drew near; but
on coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the stranger
who advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession was
obviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort of
mixed travelling and shooting costume.
"I must apologise, Mr Roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringing
you here under something like false pretences," said the stranger,
holding out his hand, which Nigel shook heartily. "Moses, I find, has
failed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but as
you are now here, the least I can do is to bid you welcome, and offer
you the hospitality of my roof."
There was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner of
the stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, which
contrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive bearded
countenance, that Nigel felt drawn to him instantly. Indeed there was a
peculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated our
hero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though Nigel
was, the stranger stood several inches above him.
"You are very kind," said the visitor, "and I don't think that Moses can
fairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhat
unwise in his way of going about this business, for I had told him I
wanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to my
advantage to travel in your service--that is, if I can be of any use to
you; but the time at my disposal may be too limited."
"How much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger.
"Well, say perhaps three months."
"That will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at the
ground. "We will talk of this hereafter."
"But--excuse me," said Nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sort
of--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if I may--"
"No, I didn't, Massa Nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flat
contradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look.
"Well," returned Nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to
understand that other people said something of that sort."
"Da's right, Massa Nadgel--kite right. You're k'rect _now_."
"People have indeed got some strange ideas about me, I believe,"
interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone.
"But come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for
yourself."
So saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the
rugged side of the peak of Rakata.
After about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where
there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of
the strait, with the Java shores and mountains in the distance.
Behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black
and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions
below, where Vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which
have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever
seething--an awful Inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which
we stand.
Curiously-formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their
pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and
hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from Nigel when he
first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in
all its rugged grandeur.
"My home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of a
prince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it.
"A magnificent entrance at all events," said Nigel, returning the smile
with something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host was
in earnest.
"Follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-worn
path which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. After being a
few minutes within the cavern, however, Nigel's eyes became accustomed
to the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, while
its walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much wider
than an ordinary corridor. Here, however, it was so dark that it was
barely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before which
they halted. Lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and a
glare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor.
Passing through the entrance, Nigel followed his guide, and the negro
let the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressingly
suggestive of a prison.
"Again I bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round and
extending his hand, which Nigel mechanically took and pressed, but
without very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded by
what he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him.
And, truly, there was ground for surprise. The visitor found himself in
a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural
chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and
trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood
innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural
history.
A table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of
all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end.
"Arabian Nights!" thought Nigel. "I _must_ be dreaming."
His wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested
at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the
negro with a broad grin on his sable visage.