Blown to Bits; or, The Lonely Man of Rakata by R. M. Ballantyne (suggested reading txt) 📖

seemed as if the poor man's wanderings were to be, for a time at least, brought to an abrupt close. Fortunately it was found that a pony could be procured at that village, and, as they had entered the borders of the mountainous regions, and the roads were more open and passable than heretofore, it was resolved that the professor should ride until his ankle recovered.

We must now pass over a considerable portion of time and space, and convey the reader, by a forced march, to the crater of an active volcano. By that time Verkimier's ankle had recovered and the pony had been dismissed. The heavy luggage, with the porters, had been left in the low grounds, for the mountain they had scaled was over 10,000 feet above the sea-level. Only one native from the plain below accompanied them as guide, and three of their porters whose inquiring minds tempted them to make the ascent.

At about 10,000 feet the party reached what the natives called the dempo or edge of the volcano, whence they looked down into the sawah or ancient crater, which was a level space composed of brown soil surrounded by cliffs, and lying like the bottom of a cup 200 feet below them. It had a sulphurous odour, and was dotted here and there with clumps of heath and rhododendrons. In the centre of this was a cone which formed the true—or modern—crater. On scrambling up to the lip of the cone and looking down some 300 feet of precipitous rock they beheld what seemed to be a pure white lake set in a central basin of 200 feet in diameter. The surface of this lakelet smoked, and although it reflected every passing cloud as if it were a mirror, it was in reality a basin of hot mud, the surface of which was about thirty feet below its rim.

"You will soon see a change come over it," said the hermit, as the party gazed in silent admiration at the weird scene.

He had scarcely spoken, when the middle of the lake became intensely black and scored with dark streaks. This, though not quite obvious at first from the point where they stood, was caused by the slow formation of a great chasm in the centre of the seething lake of mud. The lake was sinking into its own throat. The blackness increased. Then a dull sullen roar was heard, and next moment the entire lake upheaved, not violently, but in a slow, majestic manner some hundreds of feet into the air, whence it fell back into its basin with an awful roar which reverberated and echoed from the rocky walls of the caldron like the singing of an angry sea. An immense volume of steam—the motive power which had blown up the lake—was at the same time liberated and dissipated in the air.

The wave-circles died away on the margin of the lake, and the placid, cloud-reflecting surface was restored until the geyser had gathered fresh force for another upheaval.

"Amazing!" exclaimed Nigel, who had gazed with feelings of awe at this curious exhibition of the tremendous internal forces with which the Creator has endowed the earth.

"Vonderful!" exclaimed the professor, whose astonishment was such, that his eyebrows rose high above the rim of his huge blue binoculars.

Moses, to whom such an exhibition of the powers of nature was familiar, was, we are sorry to say, not much impressed, if impressed at all! Indeed he scarcely noticed it, but watched, with intense teeth-and-gum disclosing satisfaction, the faces of two of the native porters who had never seen anything of the kind before, and whose terrified expressions suggested the probability of a precipitate flight when their trembling limbs became fit to resume duty.

"Will it come again soon?" asked Nigel, turning to Van der Kemp.

"Every fifteen or twenty minutes it goes through that process all day and every day," replied the hermit.

"But, if I may joodge from zee stones ant scoriae around," said the professor, "zee volcano is not alvays so peaceful as it is joost now."

"You are right. About once in every three years, and sometimes oftener, the crops of coffee, bananas, rice, etc., in this region are quite destroyed by sulphur-rain, which covers everything for miles around the crater."

"Hah! it vould be too hote a place zis for us, if zat vas to happin joost now," remarked Verkimier with a smile.

"It cannot be far off the time now, I should think," said Yan der Kemp.

All this talk Moses translated, and embellished, to the native porters with the solemn sincerity of a true and thorough-paced hypocrite. He had scarcely finished, and was watching with immense delight the changeful aspect of their whitey-green faces, when another volcanic fit came on, and the deep-toned roar of the coming explosion was heard. It was so awesome that the countenance even of Van der Kemp became graver than usual. As for the two native porters, they gazed and trembled. Nigel and the professor also gazed with lively expectation. Moses—we grieve to record it—hugged himself internally, and gloated over the two porters.

Another moment and there came a mighty roar. Up went the mud-lake hundreds of feet into the air; out came the steam with the sound of a thousand trombones, and away went the two porters, head ever heels, down the outer slope of the cone and across the sawah as if the spirit of evil were after them.

There was no cause, however, for alarm. The mud-lake, falling back into its native cup, resumed its placid aspect and awaited its next upheaval with as much tranquillity as if it had never known disturbance in the past, and were indifferent about the future.

That evening our travellers encamped in close proximity to the crater, supped on fowls roasted in an open crevice whence issued steam and sulphurous smells, and slept with the geyser's intermittent roar sounding in their ears and re-echoing in their dreams.

CHAPTER XXIII. TELLS OF VOLCANIC FIRES AND A STRANGE RETURN "HOME."

This tremendous introduction to volcanic fires was but the prelude to a period of eruptive action which has not been paralleled in the world's history.

For a short time after this, indeed, the genial nature of the weather tended to banish from the minds of our travellers all thoughts of violence either in terrestrial or human affairs, and as the professor devoted himself chiefly to the comparatively mild occupation of catching and transfixing butterflies and beetles during the march southward, there seemed to be nothing in the wide universe above or below save peace and tranquillity—except, perhaps, in the minds of beetles and butterflies!

Throughout all this period, nevertheless, there were ominous growlings, grumblings, and tremors—faint but frequent—which indicated a condition of mother earth that could not have been called easy.

"Some of the volcanoes of Java must be at work, I think," said Nigel one night, as the party sat in a small isolated wood-cutter's hut discussing a supper of rice and fowls with his friends, which they were washing down with home-grown coffee.

"It may be so," said Van der Kemp in a dubious tone; "but the sounds, though faint, seem to me a good deal nearer. I can't help thinking that the craters which have so recently opened up in Krakatoa are still active, and that it may be necessary for me to shift my quarters, for my cave is little more, I suspect, than the throat of an ancient volcano."

"Hah! say you so, mine frond? Zen I vould advise you to make no delay," said the professor, critically examining a well-picked drumstick. "You see, it is not pleasant to be blown up eizer by the terrestrial eruptions of zee vorld or zee celestial explosions of your vife.—A leetle more rice, Moses if you please. Zanks."

"Now, mine fronds," he continued, after having disposed of a supper which it might have taxed a volcano's throat to swallow, "it is viz great sorrow zat I must part from you here."

"Part! Why?" asked the hermit in surprise.

"Vy, because I find zis contrie is heaven upon eart'. Zat is, of course, only in a scientific point of view. Zee voods are svarming, zee air is teeming, ant zee vaters are vallo'ing vit life. I cannot tear myself avay. But ve shall meet again—at Telok Betong, or Krakatoa, or Anjer, or Batavia."

It was found that the man of science was also a man of decision. Nothing would persuade him to go a step further. The wood-cutter's hut suited him, so did the wood-cutter himself, and so, as he said, did the region around him. With much regret, therefore, and an earnest invitation from the hermit to visit his cave, and range the almost unexplored woods of his island, the travellers parted from him; and our three adventurers, dismissing all attendants and hiring three ponies, continued their journey to the southern shores of Sumatra.

As they advanced it soon became evident that the scene of volcanic activity was not so far distant as the island of Java, for the air was frequently darkened by the falling of volcanic dust which covered the land with a greyish powder. As, however, at least sixteen volcanoes have been registered in the island of Sumatra, and there are probably many others, it was impossible to decide where the scene of eruption was that caused those signs.

One afternoon the travellers witnessed a catastrophe which induced them to forego all idea of spending more time in examining the country. They had arrived at a village where they found a traveller who appeared to be going about without any special object in view. He spoke English, but with a foreign accent. Nigel naturally felt a desire to become sociable with him, but he was very taciturn and evidently wished to avoid intercourse with chance acquaintances. Hearing that there were curious hot-water and mud springs not far off, the stranger expressed a desire to visit them. Nigel also felt anxious to see them, and as one guide was sufficient for the party the stranger joined the party and they went together.

The spot they were led to was evidently a mere crust of earth covering fierce subterranean fires. In the centre of it a small pond of mud was boiling and bubbling furiously, and round this, on the indurated clay, were smaller wells and craters full of boiling mud. The ground near them was obviously unsafe, for it bent under pressure like thin ice, and at some of the cracks and fissures the sulphurous vapour was so hot that the hand could not be held to it without being scalded.

Nigel and the stranger walked close behind the native guide, both, apparently, being anxious to get as near as possible to the central pond. But the guide stopped suddenly, and, looking back, said to Van der Kemp that it was not safe to approach nearer.

Nigel at once stopped, and, looking at the stranger, was struck by the wild, incomprehensible expression of his face as he continued to advance.

"Stop! stop, sir!" cried the hermit on observing this, but the man paid no attention to the warning.

Another instant and the crust on which he stood gave way and he sank into a horrible gulf from which issued a gust of sulphurous vapour and steam. The horror which almost overwhelmed Nigel did not prevent him bounding forward to the rescue. Well was it for him at that time that a cooler head than his own was near. The strong hand of the hermit seized his collar on the instant, and he was dragged backward out of danger, while an appalling shriek from the stranger as he disappeared told that the attempt to succour him would have been too late.

A terrible event of this kind has usually the effect of totally changing, at least for a time, the feelings of those who witness it, so as to almost incapacitate them from appreciating ordinary events or things. For some days after witnessing the sudden and awful fate of this unknown man, Nigel travelled as if in a dream, taking little notice of, or interest in, anything, and replying to questions in mere monosyllables. His companions seemed to be similarly affected, for they spoke very little. Even the volatile spirit of Moses appeared to be subdued, and it was not till they had reached nearly the end of their journey that their usual flow of spirits returned.

Arriving one night at a village not very far from the southern shores of Sumatra they learned that the hermit's presentiments were justified, and that the volcano which was causing so much disturbance in the islands of the archipelago was, indeed, the long extinct one of Krakatoa.

"I've heard a good deal about it from one of the chief men here," said the hermit as he returned to his friends that night about supper-time. "He tells me that it has been more or less in moderate eruption ever since we left the island, but adds that