In profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance
of their being seen by the party on the islet. Then Van der Kemp rested
his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at
the sky as if studying the weather.
Nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this
"enemy" whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit's grave
look which forbade questioning, and indeed Nigel now knew from
experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject
in regard to which he chose to be reticent.
"I don't like the look of the sky," he said at last. "We are going to
have a squall, I fear."
"Had we not better run for the nearest land?" said Nigel, who, although
not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial
regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of
some sort was probably approaching.
"The nearest island is a good way off," returned the hermit, "and we
might miss it in the dark, for daylight won't help us yet awhile. No,
we will continue our course and accept what God sends."
This remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of
danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared
to him the height of folly. He ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone
of remonstrance--
"God sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, Van der Kemp, and the
power to take precautions."
"He does, Nigel--therefore I intend to use both the capacity and the
power."
There was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed
Nigel's lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom,
power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark.
The night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black
cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. This
cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars
also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more
than a yard or two in advance of them. The dead calm, however,
continued unbroken, and the few of heaven's lights which still glimmered
through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black
mirror below. Only the faint gleam of Krakatoa's threatening fires was
visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery
sounded in their ears.
It was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to
avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances,
and Nigel--as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced
at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could
dip both hands at once into the sea--might be excused for wishing, with
all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his
father's brig. His feelings were by no means relieved when Van der Kemp
said, in a low soliloquising tone--
"The steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. They come on
with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering,
so as to get out of their way in time."
"But should we not hear them coming a long way off?" asked Nigel.
"Ay. It is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the
gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very
well."
As he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the fore-hatch and took
out a small sail which he asked Nigel to pass aft to the negro.
"Close-reef it, Moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as
possible. After that we will lay-to."
"All right, massa," said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy
tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders
whether trifling or important. "Don' forgit Spinkie, massa."
"You may be sure I won't do that," replied the hermit. "Come along,
monkey!"
Evidently Van der Kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to
prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature
instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its
master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted
the sail. Nigel could not see this--not only because of the darkness,
but because of the intervention of the hermit's bulky person, but he
understood what had taken place by the remark--
"That's a good little fellow. Keep your head down, now, while I shut
you in!"
From the same place Van der Kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail,
which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe--running its point
out by means of tackle laid along the deck--while Moses was busy reefing
the mainsail.
From the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which,
when put on by the canoemen, the tails thrust below deck, and the aprons
drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons
almost completely from water.
"Now, Nigel," said the hermit, "unship the mast, reeve the halyard of
this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. Moses will give you
the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. The
thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. I attend to the
foresail and Moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the
halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run
down alongside the mast. All I ask you to remember is to be smart in
obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here--but I doubt
not that such a caution is needless."
"I'll do my best," said Nigel.
By this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby
intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. The
tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and
glide with a rippling sound through the water, while Moses steered by
means of his paddle.
"You have put Spinkie down below, I think," said Nigel, who had been
struck more than once with the hermit's extreme tenderness and care of
the little creature.
"Yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. I nearly lost the poor
little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in
bad weather I put him below."
"Is he not apt to be suffocated?" asked Nigel. "With everything made so
tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent
air entering also."
"I see you have a mechanical turn of mind," returned the hermit. "You
are right. Yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable
time to satisfy a monkey. Nevertheless, I have made provision for that.
There is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a
little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above
the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small
hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. Thus
free circulation of air is established below deck."
Suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward.
"Look out, Moses," said Van der Kemp. "There it comes. Let go the
sheet. Keep good hold of your paddle, Nigel."
The warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe's head was
turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right
over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three
men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water.
"Lower the mainsail!" shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea
had become deafening.
Nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. The hermit had at the
same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by
a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. He then grasped his
single-blade paddle and aided Moses in keeping her head to wind and sea.
For a few minutes this was all that could be done. Then the first
violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft
to appear above the tormented water. Soon the waves began to rise.
The mere keeping of the canoe's head to wind required all the attention
of both master and man, while Nigel sat waiting for orders and looking
on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. Of course they were
all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and
down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled
aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists,
effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that
passed through the thickness of their own garments.
No word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time,
although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually
over the low-lying deck. As this deck was flush with the gunwale, or
rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a
whale's back.
Then there came a momentary lull.
"Now, Moses--'bout ship!" shouted Van der Kemp. "Stand by, Nigel!"
"Ay, ay, sir."
Although the canoe was long--and therefore unfitted to turn quickly--the
powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called
counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her
stern to the waves.
"Hoist away, Nigel! We must run right before it now."
Up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment,
and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from
wave to wave. All sense of danger was now overwhelmed in Nigel's mind
by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some
kinds of rapid motion. This was, if possible, intensified by the
crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which
began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if
in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night.
By degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that
neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they
were subjected.
"A'most too much, massa," said the negro in a suggestive shout.
"Right, Moses," returned his master. "I was just thinking we must risk
it."
"Risk what? I wonder," thought Nigel.
He had not long to wait for an answer to his thought.
"Down wi' the mainsail," was quickly followed by the lowering of the
foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the
canoe end-on to the seas. Soon even this was lowered, and Van der Kemp
used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time
telling Nigel to unship the mast.
"And plug the hole with that," he added, handing him a bit of wood which
exactly fitted the hole in the deck.
Watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the
order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so
easily, and Nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the
operation.
"Keep her so, Moses. You can help with your paddle, Nigel, while I get
ready our anchor."
"Anchor!" exclaimed our hero in amazement--obeying orders, however, at
the same moment.
The hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice
it. He quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of
boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. These he
bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole
to a hawser,--one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow--
and tossed it into the sea--paying out the hawser rapidly at the same
time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor--if
it may be so called--in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the
gale.
It was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their
waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind
every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while
under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost
continually overwhelmed by thick spray. Being, however, set free from
the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed
their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and
awaited the end!
Whilst in this attitude--so like to that of prayer--Nigel almost
naturally thought of Him who holds the water in the hollow of His hand,
and lifted his soul to God; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the
flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in
reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial
plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a
sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the Almighty, such as he
had never before experienced, crept over him. What the thoughts of the
hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about
himself; but Moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that
he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been
attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that "dat was out ob
sight de wust bust ob wedder dey'd had since dey come to lib at
Krakatoa, an' he had bery nigh giben up in despair!"
The use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the
seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. In spite of
this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the
swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the
sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off
the stooping figures like rain from a duck's back. Of course a good
deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet
them considerably, but that, as Moses remarked, "was not'ing to speak
ob."
Thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours.
Now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope
held fast, but was glad to lower it again. They hardly knew when day
broke. It was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did
come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful.
It may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those
hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough.
At last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling
defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. Then the sky
began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially
abate in force it became more steady and equal. Before noon, however,
it had subsided so much that Moses suggested the propriety of continuing
the voyage. To this Van der Kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was
hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous
process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished.
When the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails
were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind
like a fleck of foam. Then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through
the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving
sea. Soon after that Van der Kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the
fore-hold, and Spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of
his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate
tenacity. Gradually the wind went down. Reef after reef of the two
sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers
sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the
crests of the stormy sea.