Blown to Bits or The Lonely Man of Rakata Part 39

Lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the Krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from Perboewatan southward, except the peak of Rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. This result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. Vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! The steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. But nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there.

The effect of the in-rushing water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. In this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! Oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock!

One of two things must happen in such circ.u.mstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! Both events happened on that terrible night. All night long the corks were going, and at last--Krakatoa burst!

In the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the 27th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. These occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the Dutch Indian Government, by the eminent geologist, Mr. R.D.M. Verbeek--at the hours of 5.30, 6.44, 10.2, and 10.52 in the morning. Of these the third, about 10, was by far the worst for violence and for the wide-spread devastation which it produced.

At each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from Krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding sh.o.r.es. It was at the second of these explosions--that of 6.44--that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither.

As the previous wave--that of 5.30--had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell Kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger.

"The brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water," he said, "so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. I wish I could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the sh.o.r.e."

As he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck.

"One o' the yards down!" muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. "Hallo, what's that, Mr. Moor?"

"Canoe just come aboard, sir."

"A canoe?"

"Yes, sir. Crew, three men and a monkey. All insensible--hallo!"

The "hallo!" with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others.

A single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! The great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _Sunshine_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew.

Even Spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers.

You think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! Well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double--coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A CLIMAX.

Three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _Sunshine_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely Nigel, Moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay p.r.o.ne where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely.

"Nigel, my boy!"

"Father!" exclaimed the youth. "Where am I? What has happened?"

"Don't excite yourself, lad," said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. "We've got _her_ aboard!"

No treatment could have been more effectual in bringing Nigel to his senses than this whisper.

"Is--is--Van der Kemp safe?" he asked anxiously.

"All right--only stunned, I think. That's him they're just goin' to carry below. Put 'im in my bunk, Mr. Moor."

"Ay ay, sir."

Nigel sprang up. "Stay, father," he said in a low voice. "_She_ must not see him for the first time like this."

"All right, boy. I understand. You leave that to me. My bunk has bin shifted for'id--more amidships--an' Kathy's well aft. They shan't be let run foul of each other. You go an' rest on the main hatch till we get him down. Why, here's a n.i.g.g.e.r! Where did you pick him--oh! I remember.

You're the man we met, I suppose, wi' the hermit on Krakatoa that day o'

the excursion from Batavia."

"Yes, das me. But we'll meet on Krakatoa no more, for dat place am blown to bits."

"I'm pretty well convinced o' that by this time, my man. Not hurt much, I hope?"

"No, sar--not more 'n I can stan'. But I's 'fraid dat poor Spinkie's a'most used up--hallo! what you gwine to do with ma.s.sa?" demanded the negro, whose wandering faculties had only in part returned.

"He's gone below. All right. Now, you go and lie down beside my son on the hatch. I'll see to Van der Kemp."

But Captain David Roy's intentions, like those of many men of greater note, were frustrated by the hermit himself, who recovered consciousness just as the four men who carried him reached the foot of the companion-ladder close to the cabin door. Owing to the deeper than midnight darkness that prevailed a lamp was burning in the cabin--dimly, as if, infected by the universal chaos, it were unwilling to enlighten the surrounding gloom.

On recovering consciousness Van der Kemp was, not unnaturally, under the impression that he had fallen into the hands of foes. With one effectual convulsion of his powerful limbs he scattered his bearers right and left, and turning--like all honest men--to the light, he sprang into the cabin, wrenched a chair from its fastenings, and, facing round, stood at bay.

Kathleen, seeing this blood-stained giant in such violent action, naturally fled to her cabin and shut the door.

As no worse enemy than Captain Roy presented himself at the cabin door, unarmed, and with an anxious look on his rugged face, the hermit set down the chair, and feeling giddy sank down on it with a groan.

"I fear you are badly hurt, sir. Let me tie a handkerchief round your wounded head," said the captain soothingly.

"Thanks, thanks. Your voice is not unfamiliar to me," returned the hermit with a sigh, as he submitted to the operation. "I thought I had fallen somehow into the hands of pirates. Surely an accident must have happened. How did I get here? Where are my comrades--Nigel and the negro?"

"My son Nigel is all right, sir, and so is your man Moses. Make your mind easy--an' pray don't speak while I'm working at you. I'll explain it all in good time. Stay, I'll be with you in a moment."

The captain--fearing that Kathleen might come out from curiosity to see what was going on, and remembering his son's injunction--went to the girl's berth with the intention of ordering her to keep close until he should give her leave to come out. Opening the door softly and looking in, he was startled, almost horrified, to see Kathleen standing motionless like a statue, with both hands pressed tightly over her heart. The colour had fled from her beautiful face; her long hair was flung back; her large l.u.s.trous eyes were wide open and her lips slightly parted, as if her whole being had been concentrated in eager expectancy.

"What's wrong, my girl?" asked the captain anxiously. "You've no cause for fear. I just looked in to--."

"That voice!" exclaimed Kathleen, with something of awe in her tones--"Oh! I've heard it _so_ often in my dreams."

"Hush! sh! my girl," said the captain in a low tone, looking anxiously round at the wounded man. But his precautions were unavailing,--Van der Kemp had also heard a voice which he thought had long been silent in death. The girl's expression was almost repeated in his face. Before the well-meaning mariner could decide what to do, Kathleen brushed lightly past him, and stood in the cabin gazing as if spell-bound at the hermit.

"Winnie!" he whispered, as if scarcely daring to utter the name.

"Father!"

She extended both hands towards him as she spoke. Then, with a piercing shriek, she staggered backward, and would have fallen had not the captain caught her and let her gently down.

Van der Kemp vaulted the table, fell on his knees beside her, and, raising her light form, clasped her to his heart, just as Nigel and Moses, alarmed by the scream, sprang into the cabin.

"Come, come; away wi' you--you stoopid gramp.u.s.s.es!" cried the captain, pushing the intruders out of the cabin, following them, and closing the door behind him. "This is no place for bunglers like you an' me. We might have known that natur' would have her way, an' didn't need no help from the like o' us. Let's on deck. There's enough work there to look after that's better suited to us."