Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago, R. M. Ballantyne [any book recommendations .txt] 📗

the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of Sumatra.

One evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. It was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. Having ascertained his exact position, Van der Kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest.

The trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent—some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. Others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. A forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled.

“A most suitable abode for tigers, I should think,” remarked Nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him—for they marched in single file. “Are there any in these parts?”

“Ay, plenty. Indeed, it is because I don’t like sleeping in their company that I am so anxious to reach a village.”

“Are zey dangerows?” asked the professor, who followed close on Nigel.

“Well, they are not safe!” replied the hermit. “I had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago.”

“Indeed! vat vas it?” asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. “Do tell us about it.”

“With pleasure. It was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. I had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend—”

“Anozer frond!” exclaimed the professor; “vy, Van der Kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds.”

“I have travelled much in it and made many friends,” returned the hermit. “The horse that I borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after I set out. Business kept me longer than I expected, and it was getting dark before I started to return. Ere long the darkness became so intense that I could scarcely see beyond the horse’s head, and could not distinguish the path. I therefore let the animal find his own way—knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. As we jogged along, I felt the horse tremble. Then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. I was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. Suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face—so close that its fur brushed my cheek—as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. I knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse.”

“Are ve near to zee spote?” asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety.

“Not far from it!” replied the hermit, “but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party.”

“Ve are not a very large party,” returned the professor. “I do not zink I would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but I do not relish his choomping on me unavares. Push on, please.”

They pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall.

Hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of Sumatra. The travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. It was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground.

“You have frunds here too, I zink,” said Verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall.

“Well, yes—I believe I have two or three.”

There could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed Van der Kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion.

“I do believe,” said Nigel in some surprise, “that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!”

“Ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with Congreve matches—at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the Dutch and Chinese. Many of their old customs have passed away, (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them.”

“No doubt steam is zee cause of zee change,” remarked the professor.

“That,” said Nigel, “has a good deal to do with most things—from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause.”

“Surely dese people mus’ be reech,” said the professor, looking round him with interest.

“They are rich enough—and well off in every respect, save that they don’t know very well how to make use of their riches. As you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver.”

There could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etcetera,—all of solid gold and native-made—there were necklaces and collars composed of Spanish and American dollars and British half-crowns and other coins. In short, these Sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married—the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned!

As this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor’s benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. Accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors’ accommodation, and a youth named Grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest.

The house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. It also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etcetera, by the simple method of opening his window at night. A mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his matériel.

“I vil begin at vonce,” said the eager man, on taking possession.

And he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. Then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter!

Moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. They entered by twos, fours, sixes—at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone.

“You enjoy this sort of thing?” said Nigel, as he was about to retire.

“Enchoy it? yes—it is ‘paradise regained!’” He pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses.

“‘Paradise lost’ to the moth, anyhow,” said Nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. Being rather tired with the day’s journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep.

But our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night.

At length slumber descended on Nigel’s spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. Sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then.

“What can he be up to now, I wonder?” murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily.

The hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh.

“Hallo, Moses! are you awake?” asked Nigel, in a low voice.

“Ho yes, Massa Nadgel. I’s bin wakin’ a good while, larfin’ fit to bu’st my sides. De purfesser’s been a-goin’ on like a mad renoceros for more’n an hour. He’s arter suthin’, which he can’t ketch. Listen! You hear ’im goin’ round an’ round on his tip-toes. Dere goes anoder chair. I only hope he won’t smash de lamp an’ set de house a-fire.”

“Vell, vell; I’ve missed him zee tence time. Nevair mind. Have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!”

Thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly.

“Why, Verkimier, what are you after?” cried Nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition.

“Ah—I am sorry to vake you,” he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. “I have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is—hah! I have ’im at last!”

“What is it?” asked Nigel, becoming interested.

“Von leetle bat. He come in vis a moss—”

“A what?”

“A moss—a big, beautiful moss.”

“Oh! a moth—well?”

“Vell, I shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen I hunt zee bat with my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. Ant he is—sooch a—sooch a splendid specimen of a very rar’ species, zee Caelops frizii—gootness! Zere goes zee lamp!”

The crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. The whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist’s room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. Fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued.

After securing the Caelops frithii, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,—advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day.

“Vy, it is next day already!” he exclaimed, consulting his watch.

“Just so. Now do turn in.”

“I vill.”

And he did.