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

went south contains Baderoon, and I feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me.”

“That is well,” returned the chief, calmly. “My young men will hunt till they find where he is. Then they will bring us the information and Van der Kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy.”

“No, my friend,” said the hermit, firmly; “that shall not be. I must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here.”

The chief looked at his friend in surprise. “Well,” he said, “you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. But you have already rendered me good service, and I will help you to fly—though such is not the habit of the Dyaks! There is a trader’s vessel to start for Sumatra by the first light of day. Will my friend go by that?”

“I am grateful,” answered the hermit, “but I need no help—save some provisions, for I have my little canoe, which will suffice.”

As this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to Nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade Moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn.

“You see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for Baderoon has a keen eye and ear. Then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us—and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. When night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn.”

“Mine frond,” said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. “I vill go viz you.”

“I should be only too happy to have your company,” returned the hermit, “but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three.”

“Zat is no matter to me,” rejoined Verkimier; “you forget zee trader’s boat. I vill go in zat to Sumatra. Ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. Vait for me if I have not arrived—or I vill vait for you. I have longed to visit Sumatra, ant vat better fronds could I go viz zan yourselfs?”

“But, my good friend,” returned the hermit, “my movements may not exactly suit yours. Here they are,—you can judge for yourself. First I will, God permitting, cross over to Sumatra in my canoe.”

“But it is t’ree hoondert miles across, if not more!”

“No matter—there are plenty of islands on the way. Besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. Then I will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where I know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. The captain is an old friend of mine. He brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. If I find him I will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through Sunda Straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at Telok Betong on the south coast of Sumatra—not far, as you know, from my home in Krakatoa. Then I will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend Nigel Roy may see a little of the country.”

“Ant vat if you do not find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?”

“Why, then I shall have to adopt some other plan. It is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them.”

“Zat is not’ing to me, Van der Kemp; you joost go as you say. I vill follow ant take my chance. I am use’ to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. Zey can not influence me.”

After a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. The professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while Van der Kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the Dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight! When Nigel had slept about five minutes—as he thought—he was awakened by Moses.

“Don’t make a noise, Massa Nadgel! Dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus’ git off like mice. Canoe’s ready an’ massa waitin’; we gib you to de last momint.”

In a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting.

The night was very dark. This was in their favour,—at least as regarded discovery.

“But how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?” asked Nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation.

“The current will guide us. Besides, I have studied the river with a view to this flight. Be careful in getting in. Now, Moses, are you ready?”

“All right, massa.”

“Shove off, then.”

There was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that Nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed!

Floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. Here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security.

When darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river’s mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour.

“We are safe from pursuit now,” said Van der Kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell.

“O massa!” exclaimed Moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; “we’s forgotten Spinkie!”

“So we have!” returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that Nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy.

But Spinkie had not forgotten himself. Observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master’s habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night.

Awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, Spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro’s nose, and with a sleepy “Oo, oo!” gazed up into his face.

“Ho! Dare you is, you mis’rible hyperkrite!” exclaimed Moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. “He’s here, massa, all right. Now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair.”

The creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose.

Van der Kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. A pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. Being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. When Baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped.