Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago by R. M. Ballantyne (novels for teenagers .TXT) 📕

all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. There was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of Nigel.

There was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft.

Spinkie, as Moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. He was seated on a water-cask when Nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it.

“Is that what he is doing?” asked Nigel of the negro.

“Oh no, Massa Nadgel,” said Moses. “Spinkie nebber ketch cold an’ hab no need ob a pocket-hang-kitcher. He only tickles his nose wid ’is tail. But he’s bery fond ob doin’ dat.”

Being extremely fond of monkeys, Nigel went forward to fondle him, and Spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly—after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion—into the stranger’s hands. A lifelong friendship was cemented then and there.

After stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe.

“An’ he’s a good defender ob it,” said Moses, “for if man or beast happen to come near it when Spinkie’s in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin’ fit to cause a ’splosion ob Perboewatan!”

Breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. Each bed, however, was light and simple. It consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. Besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. Van der Kemp and Nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. Moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his couteau de chasse bore stronger resemblance to an ancient Roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions.

Launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while Nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. He did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist.

Round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled-canvas was attached.

“Yes, you’d better understand that thing before we start,” said Van der Kemp, observing that Nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. “It’s an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. In fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. Undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used.”

Acting as directed, Nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. In this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat.

“You see,” explained the hermit, “the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on—there are similar protections round the other holes.”

“I understand,” said Nigel. “But how if water gets in through a leak below?”

“Do you see that brass thing in front of you?” returned the hermit. “That is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. The handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. I keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things.”

As he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. The plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. The hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. But the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on india-rubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. Although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef-points. All these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase—multum in parvo.

“We don’t use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this,” said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. “Moses uses a single-blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. You are at liberty to use which you prefer.”

“Thanks, I will follow the lead of Moses, for I also have been accustomed to the single-blade and prefer it—at least while I am one of three. If alone, I should prefer the double-blade.”

“Now, Moses, are you ready?” asked the hermit.

“All ready, massa.”

“Get in then and shove off. Come along, Spinkie.”

The monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of Nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady.

“You need not give yourself any concern about Spinkie,” said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. “He is quite able to take care of himself.”

Rounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of Van der Kemp’s powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of Van der Kemp as well as that of Moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow-paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind.

About a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of Java, glinted over the mountains of Sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of Krakatoa—emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from Perboewatan, until the hermit’s home sank from view in the western horizon.