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

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 nobody takes much notice of it, as they don’t expect it to increase much in violence. I don’t agree with them in that,” he added gravely.

“Why not?” asked Nigel.

“Partly because of the length of time that has elapsed since its last eruption in 1680; partly from the fact that that eruption—judging from appearances—must have been a very tremendous one, and partly because my knowledge of volcanic action leads me to expect it; but I could not easily explain the reason for my conclusions on the latter point. I have just been to the brow of a ridge not far off whence I have seen the glow in the sky of the Krakatoa fires. They do not, however, appear to be very fierce at the present moment.”

As he spoke there was felt by the travellers a blow, as if of an explosion under the house in which they sat. It was a strong vertical bump which nearly tossed them all off their chairs. Van der Kemp and his man, after an exclamation or two, continued supper like men who were used to such interruptions, merely remarking that it was an earthquake. But Nigel, to whom it was not quite so familiar, stood up for a few seconds with a look of anxious uncertainty, as if undecided as to the path of duty and prudence in the circumstances. Moses relieved him.

“Sot down, Massa Nadgel,” said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; “it’s easier to sot dan to stand w’en its eart’quakin’.”

Nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him.

He was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came. It was not a bump like the previous one, but a severe vibration which only served to shake the men in their chairs, but it shook the small monkey off the