Blown to Bits by Robert Michael Ballantyne (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📕

suffering great pain.

After some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken.

"My poor fellow!" murmured Van der Kemp, as he went down on his knees to examine the limb.

"Don' care a buttin for dat, massa. You're safe, an' Nadgel's safe--an' it only cost a broken leg! Pooh! das nuffin'!" said Moses, unable to repress a few tears in the excess of his joy and pain!

With considerable difficulty they carried the poor negro down to the boat, where they found Winnie, as might be supposed, in a half-fainting condition from the strain of prolonged anxiety and terror to which she had been subjected; but the necessity of attending to the case of the injured Moses was an antidote which speedily restored her.

Do you think, good reader, that Nigel and Winnie had much difficulty in coming to an understanding after that, or that the hermit was disposed to throw any obstacles in the way of true love? If you do, let us assure you that you are mistaken. Surely this is information enough for any intelligent reader.

Still, it may be interesting to add, difficulties did not all at once disappear. The perplexities that had already assailed Nigel more than once assailed him again--perplexities about a negro man-servant, and a household monkey, and a hermit father-in-law, and a small income--to say nothing of a disconsolate mother-poetess in England and a father roving on the high seas! How to overcome these difficulties gave him much thought and trouble; but they were overcome at last. That which seemed impossible to man proved to be child's-play in the hands of woman. Winnie solved the difficulty by suggesting that they should all return to the Cocos-Keeling Islands and dwell together there for evermore!

* * * * *


Let us drop in on them, good reader, at a later period, have a look at them, and bid them all good-bye.

On a green knoll by the margin of the lagoon stands a beautiful cottage with a garden around it, and a pleasure-boat resting on the white coral sand in front. From the windows of that cottage there is a most magnificent view of the lagoon with its numerous islets and its picturesque palm-trees. Within that cottage dwell Nigel and Winnie, and a brown-eyed, brown-haired, fair-skinned baby girl who is "the most extraordinary angel that ever was born." It has a nurse of its own, but is chiefly waited on and attended to by an antique poetess, who dwells in another cottage, a stone's-cast off, on the same green knoll. There she inspires an ancient mariner with poetical sentiments--not your up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-pattering nonsense, observe; but the real genuine article, superior to "that other fellow's," you know--when not actively engaged with _the_ baby.

The first cottage is named Rakata, in honour of our hermit, who is one of its inhabitants. The second is named Krakatoa by its eccentric owner, Captain Roy.

It must not be imagined, however, that our friends have settled down there to spend their lives in idleness. By no means. This probably would not be permitted by the "King of the Cocos Islands" even if they wished to do so. But they do not wish that. There is no such condition as idleness in the lives of good men and women.

Nigel has taken to general superintendence of the flourishing community in the midst of which he has cast his lot. He may be almost regarded as the prime minister of the islands, in addition to which he has started an extensive boat-building business and a considerable trade in cocoa-nuts, etc., with the numerous islands of the Java Sea; also a saw-mill, and a forge, and a Sunday-school--in which last the pretty, humble-minded Winnie lends most efficient aid. Indeed it is said that she is the chief manager as well as the life and soul of that business, though Nigel gets all the credit.

Captain Roy sometimes sails his son's vessels, and sometimes looks after the secular education of the Sunday-school children--the said education being conducted on the principle of unlimited story-telling with illimitable play of fancy. But his occupations are irregular--undertaken by fits and starts, and never to be counted on. His evenings he usually devotes to poetry and pipes--for the captain is obstinate, and sticks--like most of us--to his failings as well as his fancies.

There is a certain eccentric individual with an enthusiastic temperament and blue binoculars who pays frequent and prolonged visits to the Keeling Islands. It need scarcely be said that his name is Verkimier. There is no accounting for the tastes of human beings. Notwithstanding all his escapes and experiences, that indomitable man of science still ranges, like a mad philosopher, far and wide over the archipelago in pursuit of "booterflies ant ozer specimens of zee insect vorld." It is observed, however, even by the most obtuse among his friends, that whereas in former times the professor's nights were centrifugal they have now become centripetal--the Keeling Islands being the great centre towards which he flies. Verkimier is, and probably will always be, a subject of wonder and of profound speculation to the youthful inhabitants of the islands. They don't understand him and he does not understand them. If they were insects he would take deep and intelligent interest in them. As they are merely human beings, he regards them with that peculiar kind of interest with which men regard the unknown and unknowable. He is by no means indifferent to them. He is too kindly for that. He studies them deeply, though hopelessly, and when he enters the Sunday-school with his binoculars--which he often does, to listen--a degree of awe settles down on the little ones which it is impossible to evoke by the most solemn appeals to their spiritual natures.

Nigel and Winnie have a gardener, and that gardener is black--as black as the Ace of Spades or the King of Ashantee. He dwells in a corner of the Rakata Cottage, but is addicted to spending much of his spare time in the Krakatoa one. He is as strong and powerful as ever, but limps slightly on his right leg--his "game" leg, as he styles it. He is, of course, an _immense_ favourite with the young people--not less than with the old. He has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'Cause why? --it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and Nadgel in his arms ahangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough Gracious Goodness, he sabe dem bof!"

Ha! You may smile at Moses if you will, but he can return the smile with kindly interest, for he is actuated by that grand principle which will sooner or later transform even the scoffers of earth, and which is embodied in the words--"Love is the fulfilling of the law."

Even the lower animals testify to this fact when the dog licks the hand that smites it and accords instant forgiveness on the slightest encouragement. Does not Spinkie prove it also, when, issuing at call, from its own pagoda in the sunniest corner of the Rakata garden, it forsakes cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, fruits, and other delights, to lay its little head in joyful consecration on the black bosom of its benignant friend?

And what of Moses' opinion of the new home? It may be shortly expressed in his own words-"It's heaben upon eart', an' de most happiest time as eber occurred to me was dat time when Sunda Straits went into cumbusti'n an' Krakatoa was Blown to Bits."

THE END
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Publication Date: 07-02-2010

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