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
Presently, to Winnie’s surprise, Moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern.
Van der Kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. There was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face.
“Father,” she said earnestly, “you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. Perhaps you will wonder when I tell you that I experience something of that sort now. Strange though this place seems, I have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me—that I have seen it before.”
“I do not wonder, dear one,” he replied, “for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother’s knee. For over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory—though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. Come, let us examine them.”
It was pleasant to see the earnest face of Winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. It was also a sight worth seeing—the countenance of Nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of Moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him—for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and Winnie had been quite alone.
“He either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family,” thought Nigel with a feeling of satisfaction.
“What a dear comoonicative man!” thought Moses, with unconcealed pleasure.
“Come now, let us ascend to the observatory,” said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. “There has been damage done there, I know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. I left it by mistake one day when I went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. Indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. It contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field.”
Winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father—the hermit of Rakata—was the very embodiment of romance itself.
But a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up.
“There is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, I think,” said Nigel, taking the lantern from Moses and examining the spot.
“Jump up, Moses, and try it,” said the hermit. “If your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it.”
The negro was about to obey the order when Nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it.
“Oh! Massa Nadgel; das a pritty business!”
“Never mind,” said Van der Kemp. “I’ve got matches, I think, in my—no, I haven’t. Have you, Moses?”
“No, massa, I forgit to remember him.”
“No matter, run back—you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. We will wait here till you return. Be smart, now!”
Moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard.
“I will try to clamber through in the dark. Look after Winnie, Nigel—and don’t leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles.”
“Very well, father.”
“All right. I’ve got through, Nigel; I’ll feel my way on for a little bit. Remain where you are.”
“Winnie,” said Nigel when they were alone, “doesn’t it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?”
“It does—I don’t quite like it.”
“Whereabouts are you?” said Nigel.
He carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow.
“Oh! take care of my eyes!” exclaimed Winnie with a little laugh.
“I wish you would turn your eyes towards me for I’m convinced they would give some light—to me at least. Here, do let me hold your hand. It will make you feel more confident.”
To one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. Nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. Like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth’s head! He forgot his father’s warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and Moses and Spinkie, and the thick darkness—forgot almost everything in the light of that touch!
“Winnie!” he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; “I—I—” He hesitated. The solemn embargo of his father recurred to him.
“What is it! Is there danger?” exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him.
This was too much! Nigel felt himself to be contemptible. He was taking unfair advantage of her.
“Winnie,” he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, “there is no danger whatever. I’m an ass—a dolt—that’s all! The fact is, I made my father a sort of half promise that I would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until—until I found out exactly what you thought about it. Now the thing is ridiculous—impossible—for how can I know your opinion on any subject until I have asked you?”
“Quite true,” returned Winnie simply, “so you better ask me.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed Nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, “I—I—Yes, I will ask you, Winnie! But first I must explain—”
“Hallo! Nigel!” came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, “are you there—all right?”
“Yes, yes—I’m here—not all right exactly, but I’ll be all right some day, you may depend upon that!” shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation.
“What said you?” asked Van der Kemp, putting his head through the hole.
“Hi! I’s a-comin’, look out, dar!” hallooed Moses in the opposite direction.
“Just so,” said Nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, “we’ll be all right when the light comes. Here, give us your hand, Van der Kemp.”
The hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as Moses arrived with the lantern.
“It’s of no use going further,” he said. “The passage is completely blocked up—so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. There will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. Come.”
Descending to the boat they rowed round to the face of the great cliff which had been so suddenly laid bare when the Peak of Rakata was cleft from its summit to its foundations in the sea. It was a wonderful sight—a magnificent section, affording a marvellous view of the internal mechanism of a volcano.
But there was no time to spend in contemplation of this extraordinary sight, for evening approached and the hermit’s purpose had to be accomplished.
High up near the top of the mighty cliff could be seen a small hole in the rock, which was all that remained of the observatory.
“It will be impossible, I fear, to reach that spot,” said Nigel; “there does not appear to be foothold for a goat.”
“I will reach it,” said the hermit in a low voice, as he scanned the precipice carefully.
“So will I,” said the negro.
“No, Moses, I go alone. You will remain in the boat and watch. If I fall, you can pick me up.”
“Pick you up!” echoed Moses. “If you tumbles a t’ousand feet into de water how much t’ink you will be lef’ to pick up?”
It was useless to attempt to dissuade Van der Kemp. Being well aware of this, they all held their peace while he landed on a spur of the riven cliff.
The first part of the ascent was easy enough, the ground having been irregularly broken, so that the climber disappeared behind masses of rock at times, while he kept as much as possible to the western edge of the mountain where the cleavage had occurred; but as he ascended he was forced to come out upon narrow ledges that had been left here and there on the face of the cliff, where he seemed, to those who were watching far below, like a mere black spot on the face of a gigantic wall. Still upward he went, slowly but steadily, till he reached a spot nearly level with the observatory. Here he had to go out on the sheer precipice, where his footholds were invisible from below.
Winnie sat in the boat with blanched face and tightly clasped hands, panting with anxiety as she gazed upwards.
“It looks much more dangerous from here than it is in reality,” said Nigel to her in a reassuring tone.
“Das true, Massa Nadgel, das bery true,” interposed Moses, endeavouring to comfort himself as well as the others by the intense earnestness of his manner. “De only danger, Miss Winnie, lies in your fadder losin’ his head at sitch a t’riffic height, an’ dar’s no fear at all ob dat, for Massa neber loses his head—pooh! you might as well talk ob him losin’ his heart. Look! look! he git close to de hole now—he put his foot—yes—next step—dar! he’ve done it!”
With the perspiration of anxiety streaming down his face the negro relieved his feelings by a wild prolonged cheer. Nigel obtained the same relief by means of a deep long-drawn sigh, but Winnie did not move; she seemed to realise her father’s danger better than her companions, and remembered that the descent would be much more difficult than the ascent. They were not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes the hermit reappeared and began to retrace his steps—slowly but steadily—and the watchers breathed more freely.
Moses was right; there was in reality little danger in the climb, for the ledges which appeared to them like mere threads, and the footholds that were almost invisible, were in reality from a foot to three feet wide. The only danger lay in the hermit’s head being unable to stand the trial, but, as Moses had remarked, there was no fear of that.
The watchers were therefore beginning to feel somewhat relieved from the tension of their anxiety, when a huge mass of rock was seen to slip from the face of the cliff and descend with the thunderous roar of an avalanche. The incident gave those in the boat a shock, for the landslip occurred not far from the spot which Van der Kemp had reached, but as he still stood there in apparent safety there seemed no cause for alarm till it was observed that the climber remained quite still for a long time and seemed to have no intention of moving.
“God help him!” cried Nigel in sudden alarm, “the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! Stay by the boat, Moses, I will run to help him!”
“No, Massa Nadgel,” returned the negro, “I go to die wid ’im. Boat kin look arter itself.”
He sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare.
Our hero looked at Winnie for an instant in hesitation.
“Go!” said the poor girl. “You know I can manage a boat—quick!”
Another moment and Nigel was following in the track of
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