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

The thing that perhaps surprised Nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine. He was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a direct ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor.

There was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit’s face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession. As for Moses—words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong.

“My cave interests you,” said the hermit at last.

“It amazes me,” returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, “for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine—though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception.”

“It is simple enough, as you shall see,” returned the hermit. “You have heard of the saying, no doubt, that ‘all things are possible to well-directed labour?’”

“Yes, and that ‘nothing can be achieved without labour.’”

“Well, I have proved that to some extent,” continued the hermit. “You see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that I am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be—but let us not talk of these matters just now. You must be hungry. Have you had breakfast?”

“No, we have not—unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast. After all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare.”

“I am not a genuine hermit,” remarked his host gravely. “Men do indeed call me the Hermit of Rakata, because I dwell alone here under the shadow of this particular cone of Krakatoa, but I do not ape the austere life of the conventional hermit, as you see, either in my domestic arrangements or food. Come, your breakfast is ready. From my outlook I saw your boat approaching some hours ago, and knew that it was mine, so I made ready for your arrival, though I did not guess that Moses was bringing me a guest instead of a servant!”

So saying, he led the way through a short natural passage to an inner cave, the entrance to which, like the outer one, was boarded. On opening a small door, Nigel was again greeted as before with brilliant rays of sunshine, and, in addition, with a gush of odours that were exceedingly grateful to a hungry man. A low “Ho! ho!” behind him told that his black companion was equally gratified.

The inner cave or mess-room, as the host styled it, combined dining-room and kitchen, for while in one corner stood a deal table with plates, cups, etcetera, but no tablecloth, in another stood a small stove, heated by an oil-lamp, from which issued puffing and sputtering sounds, and the savoury odours above referred to.

Nigel now perceived that although his strange host necessarily spoke a good deal while welcoming him and offering him the hospitalities of his abode, he was by no means communicative. On the contrary, it was evident that he was naturally reserved and reticent, and that although polite and gentle in the extreme, there was a quiet grave dignity about him which discouraged familiarity. It must not be supposed, however, that he was in any degree morosely silent. He was simply quiet and undemonstrative, said little except when asked questions, and spoke, alike to Nigel and Moses, in the soft, low, kindly tones with which one might address very young people.

Going to the stove he took a coffee-pot therefrom and set it on the table. At the same time, Moses, without requiring to be told, opened the oven and brought forth fried fish, meat of some kind, and cakes of he knew not what, but cared little, for their excellence was unquestionable.

During the meal that followed, Nigel ventured as far as politeness permitted—indeed a little further, if truth must be told—to inquire into the circumstances and motives of his entertainer in taking up his abode in such a strange place, but he soon found that his eccentric friend was not one who could be “pumped.” Without a touch of rudeness, and in the sweetest of voices, he simply assumed an absent manner and changed the subject of discourse, when he did not choose to reply, by drawing attention to some irrelevant matter, or by putting a counter question which led away from the subject. Nigel also found that his host never laughed and rarely smiled, though, when he did so, the smile was so slight as merely to indicate a general feeling of urbanity and goodwill, and it was followed instantly by a look of gravity, if not sadness. Altogether the guest was much perplexed about the host at first, and somewhat constrained in consequence, but gradually he began to feel at ease. Another discovery that he soon made was, that the hermit treated Moses not as a servant, but as if he were in all respects an equal and a comrade.

After eating for some time in silence, and having tried to draw out his host without success, Nigel changed his tactics and said—

“You were so kind as to speak of me as your guest, Mr—Mr—I beg pardon, may I—”

“My name is Van der Kemp,” said the hermit quietly.

“Well, Mr Van der Kemp, I must tell you that I am quite willing to accept the position for which Moses hired me—”

“No, I didn’t,” contradicted the negro, flatly yet very gently, both in tone and manner, for long residence with the hermit had apparently imbued him with something of his spirit.

“Well, then,” said Nigel, “the position for which Moses should have hired some one else.” (“K’rect now,” whispered Moses.) “Of course I do not intend to ask for or accept wages, and also, of course, I accept the position on the understanding that you think me fit for the service. May I ask what that service is to be, and where you think of going to?”

“The service,” returned the hermit slowly and with his eyes fixed on the floor as if pondering his reply, “is to accompany me as my attendant and companion, to take notes as occasion may serve, and to paddle a canoe.”

At this reply our hero almost laughed, but was prevented from doing so by his host asking abruptly if he understood canoeing.

“Well, yes. At least I can manage what in England is known as the Rob Roy canoe, having possessed one in my boyhood.”

“That will do,” returned the hermit gravely. “Can you write shorthand?”

“I can. A friend of mine, a reporter on one of the London dailies, once gave me a few lessons, and, becoming fond of the subject, I followed it up.”

“That is well; you did