Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago by R. M. Ballantyne (red novels TXT) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago by R. M. Ballantyne (red novels TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently.
The two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. At the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky.
Nigel glanced at Van der Kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. The moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. So strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. Nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared.
Then Van der Kemp rose with a sigh of relief. The negro and Nigel also sprang up.
“What’s wrong, massa?” asked Moses, in much anxiety.
“Nothing, nothing,” said the hermit hurriedly. “I must cross over to see these fellows.”
“All right, massa. I go wid you.”
“No, I go alone.”
“Not widout arms?” exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master’s shoulder.
“Yes, without arms!” As he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. “Now attend, both of you,” he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness.
“Do not on any account follow me. I am quite able to take care of myself.”
Next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone.
“Can you guess what is the matter with him?” asked Nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look.
“Not more nor de man ob de moon. I nebber saw’d ’im like dat before. I t’ink he’s go mad! I tell you what—I’ll foller him wid a rifle an’ knife and two revolvers.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Nigel, laying hold of the negro’s wrist with a grip of iron; “when a man like Van der Kemp gives an order it’s the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey.”
“Well—p’raps you’re right, Nadgel,” returned Moses calmly. “If you wasn’t, I’d knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin’ a grip o’ me like dat.”
“You’ll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders,” returned our hero, tightening the grip.
Moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench.
“You’s awrful strong, Nadgel, but you don’t quite come up to niggers! Howse’ber, you’s right. I’ll obey orders; neberdeless I’ll get ready for action.”
So saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to Nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for “massa” when he should return.
“Now, if you’re smart at arit’metic, you’ll see dat six time six am t’irty-six, and two double guns das forty-forty dead men’s more’n enuff—besides de knives.”
Moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when Van der Kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. His face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided.
“I have seen him,” he said, in a low voice.
“Seen who?” asked Nigel.
“Him whom I had hoped and prayed never more to see. My enemy! Come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice.”
He gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; Moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while Nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. Five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable Spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast.
Taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. A cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. Each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the Queen of Night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea.
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
Comments (0)