The Project Gutenberg EBook of Blown to Bits, by Robert Michael Ballantyne This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Blown to Bits or, The Lonely Man of Rakata Author: Robert Michael Ballantyne Release Date: March 13, 2005 [EBook #15348] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLOWN TO BITS *** Produced by Michael Oltz, Suzanne Lybarger, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. "CAME UNEXPECTEDLY ON A CAVERN." BLOWN TO BITS OR THE LONELY MAN OF RAKATA. A Tale of the Malay Archipelago. BY R.M. BALLANTYNE, AUTHOR OF "BLUE LIGHTS, OR HOT WORK IN THE SOUDAN;" "THE FUGITIVES;" "RED ROONEY;" "THE ROVER OF THE ANDES;" "THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST;" "THE RED ERIC;" "FREAKS ON THE FELLS;" "THE YOUNG TRAWLER;" "DUSTY DIAMONDS;" "THE BATTERY AND THE BOILER;" "POST HASTE;" "BLACK IVORY;" "THE IRON HORSE;" "FIGHTING THE FLAMES;" "THE LIFEBOAT;" ETC. ETC. With Illustrations by the Author. EIGHTH THOUSAND. LONDON: JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET. 1894. PREFACE. The extremely violent nature of the volcanic eruption in Krakatoa in 1883, the peculiar beauty of those parts of the eastern seas where the event occurred, the wide-spread influences of the accompanying phenomena, and the tremendous devastation which resulted, have all inspired me with a desire to bring the matter, in the garb of a tale, before that portion of the juvenile world which accords me a hearing. For most of the facts connected with the eruption which have been imported into my story, I have to acknowledge myself indebted to the recently published important and exhaustive "Report" of the Krakatoa Committee, appointed by the Royal Society to make a thorough investigation of the whole matter in all its phases. I have also to acknowledge having obtained much interesting and useful information from the following among other works:—The Malay Archipelago, by A.R. Wallace; A Naturalist's Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago, by H.O. Forbes; and Darwin's Journal of Researches round the world in H.M.S. "Beagle." R.M. BALLANTYNE. HARROW-ON-THE HILL, 1889. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I.—THE PLAY COMMENCES CHAPTER II.—THE HAVEN IN THE CORAL RING CHAPTER III.—INTERESTING PARTICULARS OF VARIOUS KINDS CHAPTER IV.—NIGEL UNDERGOES SOME QUITE NEW AND INTERESTING EXPERIENCES CHAPTER V.—CAPTAIN ROY SURPRISES AND GRATIFIES HIS SON, WHO SURPRISES A NEGRO, AND SUDDENLY FORMS AN ASTONISHING RESOLVE CHAPTER VI.—THE HERMIT OF RAKATA INTRODUCED CHAPTER VII.—WONDERS OF THE HERMIT'S CAVE AND ISLAND CHAPTER VIII.—PERBOEWATAN BECOMES MODERATELY VIOLENT CHAPTER IX.—DESCRIBES, AMONG OTHER THINGS, A SINGULAR MEETING UNDER PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES CHAPTER X.—A CURIOUS SEA-GOING CRAFT—THE UNKNOWN VOYAGE BEGUN CHAPTER XI.—CANOEING ON THE SEA—A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT-SURPRISE AND SUDDEN FLIGHT CHAPTER XII.—WEATHERING A STORM IN THE OPEN SEA CHAPTER XIII.—FRIENDS ARE MET WITH, ALSO PIRATES, AND A LIFE-OR-DEATH PADDLE ENSUES CHAPTER XIV.—A NEW FRIEND FOUND—NEW DANGERS ENCOUNTERED AND NEW HOPES DELAYED CHAPTER XV.—HUNTING THE GREAT MAN-MONKEY CHAPTER XVI.—BEGINS WITH A TERRIBLE FIGHT AND ENDS WITH A HASTY FLIGHT CHAPTER XVII.—TELLS OF THE JOYS, ETC., OF THE PROFESSOR IN THE SUMATRAN FORESTS, ALSO OF A CATASTROPHE AVERTED CHAPTER XVIII.—A TRYING ORDEAL—DANGER THREATENS AND FLIGHT AGAIN RESOLVED ON CHAPTER XIX.—A TERRIBLE MURDER AND A STRANGE REVELATION CHAPTER XX.—NIGEL MAKES A CONFIDANT OF MOSES—UNDERTAKES A LONELY WATCH AND SEES SOMETHING WONDERFUL CHAPTER XXI.—IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF CHAPTER XXII.—A PYTHON DISCOVERED AND A GEYSER INTERVIEWED CHAPTER XXIII.—TELLS OF VOLCANIC FIRES AND A STRANGE RETURN "HOME," CHAPTER XXIV.—AN AWFUL NIGHT AND TERRIBLE MORNING CHAPTER XXV.—ADVENTURES OF THE "SUNSHINE" AND AN UNEXPECTED REUNION CHAPTER XXVI.—A CLIMAX CHAPTER XXVII.—"BLOWN TO BITS," CHAPTER XXVIII.—THE FATE OF THE "SUNSHINE," CHAPTER XXIX.—TELLS CHIEFLY OF THE WONDERFUL EFFECTS OF THIS ERUPTION ON THE WORLD AT LARGE CHAPTER XXX.—WONDERFUL CHANGES CHAPTER XXXI.—ENDS WITH A STRUGGLE BETWEEN INCLINATION AND DUTY CHAPTER XXXII.—THE LAST LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. VIGNETTE TITLE "HE CAME UNEXPECTEDLY ON A CAVERN" ART ON THE KEELING ISLANDS THEY DISCOVER A PIRATES' BIVOUAC "DO YOU HEAR?" SAID VERKIMIER, STERNLY BLOWN TO BITS BLOWN TO BITS A TALE OF THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO. CHAPTER I. THE PLAY COMMENCES. Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that—but let us not anticipate. About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay Archipelago. Two men slowly paced the brig's quarter-deck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. Both men were broad, and apparently strong. One of them was tall; the other short. More than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal. "Father," said the tall man to the short one, "I do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. Doesn't it strike you so?" "Can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "More suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way." The son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour. "Why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. I had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature." "Glad I got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of the brig—for such the short man was. "When a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon—scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. Take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as fast as ye can. It don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman. When I sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, I had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry." The captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill- natured scorn. "Why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me—if indeed there be any in me at all." "What was it, then?" "It was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't object to poetry in her." "Object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a Nor'wester. "Of course not. But then, Nigel, poetry in your mother is poetry, an' she can do it, lad—screeds of it—equal to anything that Dibdin, or, or,—that other fellow, you know, I forget his name—ever put pen to—why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded off at the corners, French-polished and all shipshape. Ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under her wings, wi' your inflated, up in the clouds, reef-point-patterin', balloon-like nonsense." "Well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; I won't offend again. Besides, I'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. We won't disagree about that, but I suspect that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned." "What other matter?" demanded the sire. "My doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "It must be quite evident to you by this time, I should think, that I am not cut out for a sailor. After all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the Cape, I'm no better than an amateur. I told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. It is absurd to call me first mate of the Sunshine. That is in reality Mr. Moor's position—" "No, it isn't, Nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "Mr. Moor is second mate. I say so, an' if I, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, I'd like to know who does! Now, look here, lad. You've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. I'm an old salt, you know, an' I tell 'ee that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. You're no more an ammytoor than I am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'—wi'—" "With the Poetess," suggested Nigel. "Just so—wi' the equal o' Dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. Now it seems to me—. How's 'er head?" The captain suddenly changed the subject here. Nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it. "Nor'-east-and-by-east," he said. "Are 'ee sure, lad?" "Your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?" "Let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye. The flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without evidences of the conflict. At the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being smothered in hair. "Vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one." "What d' you mean, father?" "I mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away—in the neighbourhood o' Sunda Straits," answered the Captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "Darkness like this don't happen without a cause. I've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that Vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the Straits Settlements." "By which you mean, I suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the Malay Archipelago has become active," said Nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of Sunda? Surely the influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far." "So far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes." "I don't profess to know much, father," retorted Nigel in a tone of cheery defiance. "Why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay hundreds, of miles. I thought I heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag—. Hallo! D'ee feel that?" He went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust. "Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. That glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. At the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met. Seamen are well used to sudden danger—especially in equatorial seas—and to prompt, unquestioning action. Not many minutes elapsed before the Sunshine was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. Even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale soon raised into raging billows. The storm came from the Sunda Straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud before it under almost bare poles. All that night it raged. Towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the back-stays of the foremast gave way. The result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. They also parted, and the fore-top-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it. CHAPTER II. THE HAVEN IN THE CORAL RING. It seemed as if the storm-fiend were satisfied with the mischief he had accomplished, for immediately after the disaster just described, the gale began to moderate, and when the sun rose it had been reduced to a stiff but steady breeze. From the moment of the accident onward, the whole crew had been exerting themselves to the utmost with axe and knife to cut and clear away the wreck of the masts and repair damages. Not the least energetic among them was our amateur first mate, Nigel Roy. When all had been made comparatively snug, he went aft to where his father stood beside the steersman, with his legs nautically wide apart, his sou'-wester pulled well down over his frowning brows, and his hands in their native pockets. "This is a bad ending to a prosperous voyage," said the youth, sadly; "but you don't seem to take it much to heart, father!" "How much or little I take it to heart you know nothin' whatever about, my boy, seein' that I don't wear my heart on my coat-sleeve, nor yet on the point of my nose, for the inspection of all and sundry. Besides, you can't tell whether it's a bad or a good endin', for it has not ended yet one way or another. Moreover, what appears bad is often found to be good, an' what seems good is pretty often uncommon bad." "You are a walking dictionary of truisms, father! I suppose you mean to take a philosophical view of the misfortune and make the best of it," said Nigel, with what we may style one of his twinkling smiles, for on nearly all occasions that young man's dark, brown eyes twinkled, in spite of him, as vigorously as any "little star" that was ever told in prose or song to do so—and much more expressively, too, because of the eyebrows of which little stars appear to be destitute. "No, lad," retorted the captain; "I take a common-sense view—not a philosophical one; an' when you've bin as long at sea as I have, you'll call nothin' a misfortune until it's proved to be such. The only misfortune I have at present is a son who cannot see things in the same light as his father sees 'em." "Well, then, according to your own principle that is the reverse of a misfortune, for if I saw everything in the same light that you do, you'd have no pleasure in talking to me, you'd have no occasion to reason me out of error, or convince me of truth. Take the subject of poetry, now—" "Luff," said Captain Roy, sternly, to the man at the wheel. When the man at the wheel had gone through the nautical evolution involved in "luff," the captain turned to his son and said abruptly— "We'll run for the Cocos-Keelin' Islands, Nigel, an' refit." "Are the Keeling Islands far off?" "Lift up your head and look straight along the bridge of your nose, lad, and you'll see them. They're an interesting group, are the Keelin' Islands. Volcanic, they are, with a coral top-dressin', so to speak. Sit down here an' I'll tell 'ee about 'em." Nigel shut up the telescope through which he had been examining the thin, blue line on the horizon that indicated the islands in question, and sat down on the cabin skylight beside his father. "They've got a romantic history too, though a short one, an' are set like a gem on the bosom of the deep blue sea—" "Come, father, you're drifting out of your true course—that's poetical!" "I know it, lad, but I'm only quotin' your mother. Well, you must know that the Keelin' Islands—we call them Keelin' for short—were uninhabited between fifty and sixty years ago, when a Scotsman named Ross, thinking them well situated as a port of call for the repair and provisioning of vessels on their way to Australia and China, set his heart on them and quietly took possession in the name of England. Then he went home to fetch his wife and family of six children, intendin' to settle on the islands for good. Returning in 1827 with the family and fourteen adventurers, twelve of whom were English, one a Portugee and one a Javanee, he found to his disgust that an Englishman named Hare had stepped in before him and taken possession. This Hare was a very bad fellow; a rich man who wanted to live like a Rajah, with lots o' native wives and retainers, an' be a sort of independent prince. Of course he was on bad terms at once with Ross, who, finding that things were going badly, felt that it would be unfair to hold his people to the agreement which was made when he thought the whole group was his own, so he offered to release them. They all, except two men and one woman, accepted the release and went off in a gun-boat that chanced to touch there at the time. For a good while Hare and his rival lived there—the one tryin' to get the Dutch, the other to induce the English Government to claim possession. Neither Dutch nor English would do so at first, but the English did it at long-last—in 1878—and annexed the islands to the Government of Ceylon. "Long before that date, however—before 1836—Hare left and went to Singapore, where he died, leaving Ross in possession—the 'King of the Cocos Islands' as he came to be called. In a few years—chiefly through the energy of Ross's eldest son, to whom he soon gave up the management of affairs—the Group became a prosperous settlement. Its ships traded in cocoa-nuts (the chief produce of the islands) throughout all the Straits Settlements, and boat-buildin' became one of their most important industries. But there was one thing that prevented it from bein' a very happy though prosperous place, an' that was the coolies who had been hired in Java, for the only men that could be got there at first were criminals who had served their time in the chain-gangs of Batavia. As these men were fit for anything—from pitch- and-toss to murder—and soon outnumbered the colonists, the place was kept in constant alarm and watchfulness. For, as I dare say you know, the Malays are sometimes liable to have the spirit of amok on them, which leads them to care for and fear nothin', and to go in for a fight-to-death, from which we get our sayin'—run amuck. An' when a strong fellow is goin' about loose in this state o' mind, it's about as bad as havin' a tiger prowlin' in one's garden." "Well, sometimes two or three o' these coolies would mutiny and hide in the woods o' one o' the smaller uninhabited islands. An' the colonists would have no rest till they hunted them down. So, to keep matters right, they had to be uncommon strict. It was made law that no one should spend the night on any but what was called the Home Island without permission. Every man was bound to report himself at the guard-house at a fixed hour; every fire to be out at sunset, and every boat was numbered and had to be in its place before that time. So they went on till the year 1862, when a disaster befell them that made a considerable change—at first for the worse, but for the better in the long-run. Provin' the truth, my lad, of what I was—well, no—I was goin' to draw a moral here, but I won't! "It was a cyclone that did the business. Cyclones have got a free-an'-easy way of makin' a clean sweep of the work of years in a few hours. This cyclone completely wrecked the homes of the Keelin' Islanders, and Ross—that's the second Ross, the son of the first one—sent home for his son, who was then a student of engineering in Glasgow, to come out and help him to put things to rights. Ross the third obeyed the call, like a good son,—observe that, Nigel." "All right, father, fire away!" "Like a good son," repeated the captain, "an' he turned out to be a first-rate man, which was lucky, for his poor father died soon after, leavin' him to do the work alone. An' well able was the young engineer to do it. He got rid o' the chain- gang men altogether, and hired none but men o' the best character in their place. He cleared off the forests and planted the ground with cocoa-nut palms. Got out steam mills, circular saws, lathes, etc., and established a system of general education with a younger brother as head-master—an' tail-master too, for I believe there was only one. He also taught the men to work in brass, iron, and wood, and his wife—a Cocos girl that he married after comin' out—taught all the women and girls to sew, cook, and manage the house. In short, everything went on in full swing of prosperity, till the year 1876, when the island-born inhabitants were about 500, as contented and happy as could be. "In January of that year another cyclone paid them a visit. The barometer gave them warning, and, remembering the visit of fourteen years before, they made ready to receive the new visitor. All the boats were hauled up to places of safety, and every other preparation was made. Down it came, on the afternoon o' the 28th—worse than they had expected. Many of the storehouses and mills had been lately renewed or built. They were all gutted and demolished. Everything movable was swept away like bits of paper. Lanes, hundreds of yards in length, were cleared among the palm trees by the whirling wind, which seemed to perform a demon-dance of revelry among them. In some cases it snapped trees off close to the ground. In others it seemed to swoop down from above, lick up a patch of trees bodily and carry them clean away, leaving the surrounding trees untouched. Sometimes it would select a tree of thirty years growth, seize it, spin it round, and leave it a permanent spiral screw. I was in these regions about the time, and had the account from a native who had gone through it all and couldn't speak of it except with glaring eyeballs and gasping breath. "About midnight of the 28th the gale was at its worst. Darkness that could be felt between the flashes of lightning. Thunder that was nearly drowned by the roaring of the wind an' the crashing of everything all round. To save their lives the people had to fling themselves into ditches and hollows of the ground. Mr. Ross and some of his people were lying in the shelter of a wall near his house. There had been a schooner lying not far off. When Mr. Ross raised his head cautiously above the wall to have a look to wind'ard he saw the schooner comin' straight for him on the top of a big wave. 'Hold on!' he shouted, fell flat down, and laid hold o' the nearest bush. Next moment the wave burst right over the wall, roared on up to the garden, 150 yards above highwater mark, and swept his house clean away! By good fortune the wall stood the shock, and the schooner stuck fast just before reachin' it, but so near that the end of the jib- boom passed right over the place where the household lay holdin' on for dear life and half drowned. It was a tremendous night," concluded the captain, "an' nearly everything on the islands was wrecked, but they've survived it, as you'll see. Though it's seven years since that cyclone swep' over them, they're all right and goin' ahead again, full swing, as if nothin' had happened." "And is Ross III. still king?" asked Nigel with much interest. "Ay—at least he was king a few years ago when I passed this way and had occasion to land to replace a tops'l yard that had been carried away." "Then you won't arrive as a stranger?" "I should think not," returned the captain, getting up and gazing steadily at the atoll or group of islets enclosed within a coral ring which they were gradually approaching. Night had descended, however, and the gale had decreased almost to a calm, ere they steered through the narrow channel—or what we may call a broken part of the ring—which led to the calm lagoon inside. Nigel Roy leaned over the bow, watching with profound attention the numerous phosphorescent fish and eel-like creatures which darted hither and thither like streaks of silver from beneath their advancing keel. He had enough of the naturalist in him to arouse in his mind keen interest in the habits and action of the animal life around him, and these denizens of the coral-groves were as new to him as their appearance was unexpected. "You'll find 'em very kind and hospitable, lad," said the captain to his son. "What, the fish?" "No, the inhabitants. Port—port—steady!" "Steady it is!" responded the man at the wheel. "Let go!" shouted the captain. A heavy plunge, followed by the rattling of chains and swinging round of the brig, told that they had come to an anchor in the lagoon of the Cocos-Keeling Islands. CHAPTER III. INTERESTING PARTICULARS OF VARIOUS KINDS. By the first blush of dawn Nigel Roy hastened on deck, eager to see the place in regard to which his father's narrative had awakened in him considerable interest. It not only surpassed but differed from all his preconceived ideas. The brig floated on the bosom of a perfectly calm lake of several miles in width, the bottom of which, with its bright sand and brilliant coral-beds, could be distinctly seen through the pellucid water. This lake was encompassed by a reef of coral which swelled here and there into tree-clad islets, and against which the breakers of the Indian Ocean were dashed into snowy foam in their vain but ceaseless efforts to invade the calm serenity of the lagoon. Smaller islands, rich with vegetation, were scattered here and there within the charmed circle, through which several channels of various depths and sizes connected the lagoon with the ocean. "We shall soon have the king himself off to welcome us," said Captain Roy as he came on deck and gave a sailor-like glance all round the horizon and then up at the sky from the mere force of habit. "Visitors are not numerous here. A few scientific men have landed now and again; Darwin the great naturalist among others in 1836, and Forbes in 1878. No doubt they'll be very glad to welcome Nigel Roy in this year of grace 1883." "But I'm not a naturalist, father, more's the pity." "No matter, lad; you're an ammytoor first mate, an' pr'aps a poet may count for somethin' here. They lead poetical lives and are fond o' poetry." "Perhaps that accounts for the fondness you say they have for you, father." "Just so, lad. See!—there's a boat puttin' off already: the king, no doubt." He was right. Mr. Ross, the appointed governor, and "King of the Cocos Islands," was soon on deck, heartily shaking hands with and welcoming Captain Roy as an old friend. He carried him and his son off at once to breakfast in his island-home; introduced Nigel to his family, and then showed them round the settlement, assuring them at the same time that all its resources were at their disposal for the repair of the Sunshine. "Thank 'ee kindly," said the captain in reply, "but I'll only ask for a stick to rig up a foretop-mast to carry us to Batavia, where we'll give the old craft a regular overhaul—for it's just possible she may have received some damage below the water-line, wi' bumpin' on the mast and yards." The house of the "King" was a commodious, comfortable building in the midst of a garden, in which there were roses in great profusion, as well as fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. Each Keeling family possessed a neat well-furnished plank cottage enclosed in a little garden, besides a boat-house at the water-edge on the inner or lagoon side of the reef, and numerous boats were lying about on the white sand. The islanders, being almost born sailors, were naturally very skilful in everything connected with the sea. There was about them a good deal of that kindly innocence which one somehow expects to find associated with a mild paternal government and a limited intercourse with the surrounding world, and Nigel was powerfully attracted by them from the first. After an extensive ramble, during which Mr. Ross plied the captain with eager questions as to the latest news from the busy centres of civilisation—especially with reference to new inventions connected with engineering—the island king left them to their own resources till dinner-time, saying that he had duties to attend to connected with the kingdom! "Now, boy," said the captain when their host had gone, "what'll 'ee do? Take a boat and have a pull over the lagoon, or go with me to visit a family I'm particularly fond of, an' who are uncommon fond o' me!" "Visit the family, of course," said Nigel. "I can have a pull any day." "Come along then." He led the way to one of the neatest of the plank cottages, which stood on the highest ridge of the island, so that from the front windows it commanded a view of the great blue ocean with its breakers that fringed the reef as with a ring of snow, while, on the opposite side, lay the peaceful waters and islets of the lagoon. A shout of joyful surprise was uttered by several boys and girls at sight of the captain, for during his former visit he had won their hearts by telling them wild stories of the sea, one half of each story being founded on fact and personal experience, the other half on a vivid imagination! "We are rejoiced to see you," said the mother of the juveniles, a stout woman of mixed nationality—that of Dutch apparently predominating. She spoke English, however, remarkably well, as did many of the Cocos people, though Malay is the language of most of them. The boys and girls soon hauled the captain down on a seat and began to urge him to tell them stories, using a style of English that was by no means equal to that of the mother. "Stop, stop, let me see sister Kathy first. I can't begin without her. Where is she?" "Somewhere, I s'pose," said the eldest boy. "No doubt of that. Go—fetch her," returned the captain. At that moment a back-door opened, and a girl of about seventeen years of age entered. She was pleasant-looking rather than pretty—tall, graceful, and with magnificent black eyes. "Here she comes," cried the captain, rising and kissing her. "Why, Kathy, how you've grown since I saw you last! Quite a woman, I declare!" Kathy was not too much of a woman, however, to join her brothers and sisters in forcing the captain into a seat and demanding a story on the spot. "Stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "Let me inquire about my old friends first—and let me introduce my son to you—you've taken no notice of him yet! That's not hospitable." All eyes were turned at once on Nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, Can you tell stories? "Come, now," said Nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my father, I must shake hands with you all round." The hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. They admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story. "No, no—about old friends first. How—how's old mother Morris?" "Quite well," they shouted. "Fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who in England would have been styled cheeky. "Yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small for she." "Why, Gerchin, you've learned to speak English like the rest," said the captain. "Yes, father make every one learn." "Well, now," continued the captain, "what about Black Sam?" "Gone to Batavia," chorused the children. "And—and—what's-'is-name?—the man wi' the nose—" A burst of laughter and, "We's all got noses here!" was the reply. "Yes, but you know who I mean—the short man wi' the—" "Oh! with the turned up nose. I know," cried the cheeky boy; "you means Johnson? He goed away nobody know whar'." "And little Nelly Drew, what of her?" A sudden silence fell on the group, and solemn eyes were turned on sister Kathy, who was evidently expected to answer. "Not dead?" said the captain earnestly. "No, but very very ill," replied the girl. "Dear Nelly have never git over the loss of her brother, who—" At this point they were interrupted by another group of the captain's little admirers, who, having heard of his arrival, ran forward to give him a noisy welcome. Before stories could be commenced, however, the visitors were summoned to Mr. Ross's house to dinner, and then the captain had got into such an eager talk with the king that evening was upon them before they knew where they were, as Nigel expressed it, and the stories had to be postponed until the following day. Of course beds were offered, and accepted by Captain Roy and Nigel. Just before retiring to them, father and son went out to have a stroll on the margin of the lagoon. "Ain't it a nice place, Nigel?" asked the former, whose kindly spirit had been stirred up to quite a jovial pitch by the gushing welcome he had received alike from old and young. "It's charming, father. Quite different from what you had led me to expect." "My boy," returned the captain, with that solemn deliberation which he was wont to assume when about to deliver a palpable truism. "W'en you've come to live as long as me you'll find that everything turns out different from what people have bin led to expect. Leastways that's my experience." "Well, in the meantime, till I have come to your time of life, I'll take your word for that, and I do hope you intend to stay a long time here." "No, my son, I don't. Why do ye ask?" "Because I like the place and the people so much that I would like to study it and them, and to sketch the scenery." "Business before pleasure, my lad," said the captain with a grave shake of the head. "You know we've bin blown out of our course, and have no business here at all. I'll only wait till the carpenter completes his repairs, and then be off for Batavia. Duty first; everything else afterwards." "But you being owner as well as commander, there is no one to insist on duty being done," objected Nigel. "Pardon me," returned the captain, "there is a certain owner named Captain David Roy, a very stern disciplinarian, who insists on the commander o' this here brig performin' his duty to the letter. You may depend upon it that if a man ain't true to himself he's not likely to be true to any one else. But it's likely that we may be here for a couple of days, so I release you from duty that you may make the most o' your time and enjoy yourself. By the way, it will save you wastin' time if you ask that little girl, Kathy Holbein, to show you the best places to sketch, for she's a born genius with her pencil and brush." "No, thank you, father," returned Nigel. "I want no little girl to bother me while I'm sketching—even though she be a born genius—for I think I possess genius enough my self to select the best points for sketching, and to get along fairly well without help. At least I'll try what I can do." "Please yourself, lad. Nevertheless, I think you wouldn't find poor Kathy a bother; she's too modest for that— moreover, she could manage a boat and pull a good oar when I was here last, and no doubt she has improved since." "Nevertheless, I'd rather be alone," persisted Nigel. "But why do you call her poor Kathy? She seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "Ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone. "Kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan. Her name, Kathleen, is not a Dutch one. She came to these islands in a somewhat curious way. Sit down here and I'll tell 'ee the little I know about her." Father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully. "About thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the Sunda Straits attacked a British barque, and, after a fight, captured her. Some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom I s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land. It was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the Java shore, more dead than alive. He gave information about the affair, and was the cause of a gun-boat, that was in these waters at the time, bein' sent off in chase o' the pirate junks. "This man who swam ashore was a Lascar. He said that the chief o' the pirates, who seemed to own both junks, was a big ferocious Malay with only one eye—he might have added with no heart at all, if what he said o' the scoundrel was true, for he behaved with horrible cruelty to the crew o' the barque. After takin' all he wanted out of his prize he scuttled her, and then divided the people that were saved alive between the two junks. There were several passengers in the vessel; among them a young man—a widower—with a little daughter, four year old or so. He was bound for Calcutta. Being a very powerful man he fought like a lion to beat the pirates off, but he was surrounded and at last knocked down by a blow from behind. Then his arms were made fast and he was sent wi' the rest into the biggest junk. "This poor fellow recovered his senses about the time the pirates were dividin' the prisoners among them. He seemed dazed at first, so said the Lascar, but as he must have bin in a considerable funk himself I suspect his observations couldn't have bin very correct. Anyhow, he said he was sittin' near the side o' the junk beside this poor man, whose name he never knew, but who seemed to be an Englishman from his language, when a wild scream was heard in the other junk. It was the little girl who had caught sight of her father and began to understand that she was going to be separated from him. At the sound o' her voice he started up, and, looking round like a wild bull, caught sight o' the little one on the deck o' the other junk, just as they were hoistin' sail to take advantage of a breeze that had sprung up. "Whether it was that they had bound the man with a piece o' bad rope, or that the strength o' Samson had been given to him, the Lascar could not tell, but he saw the Englishman snap the rope as if it had bin a bit o' pack-thread, and jump overboard. He swam for the junk where his little girl was. If he had possessed the strength of a dozen Samsons it would have availed him nothin', for the big sail had caught the breeze and got way on her. At the same time the other junk lay over to the same breeze and the two separated. At first the one-eyed pirate jumped up with an oath and fired a pistol shot at the Englishman, but missed him. Then he seemed to change his mind and shouted in bad English, with a diabolical laugh—'Swim away; swim hard, p'raps you kitch 'im up!' Of course the two junks were soon out of sight o' the poor swimmer—and that was the end of him, for, of course, he must have been drowned." "But what of the poor little girl?" asked Nigel, whose feelings were easily touched by the sorrows of children, and who began to have a suspicion of what was coming. "I'm just comin' to that. Well, the gun-boat that went to look for the pirates sighted one o' the junks out in the Indian Ocean after a long search and captured her, but not a single one o' the barque's crew was to be found in her, and it was supposed they had been all murdered and thrown overboard wi' shots tied to their feet to sink them. Enough o' the cargo o' the British barque was found, however, to convict her, and on a more careful search bein' made, the little girl was discovered, hid away in the hold. Bein' only about four year old, the poor little thing was too frightened to understand the questions put to her. All she could say was that she wanted 'to go to father,' and that her name was Kathy, probably short for Kathleen, but she could not tell." "Then that is the girl who is now here?" exclaimed Nigel. "The same, lad. The gun-boat ran in here, like as we did, to have some slight repairs done, and Kathy was landed. She seemed to take at once to motherly Mrs. Holbein, who offered to adopt her, and as the captain of the gun-boat had no more notion than the man-in-the-moon who the child belonged to, or what to do with her, he gladly handed her over, so here she has been livin' ever since. Of course attempts have been made to discover her friends, but without success, and now all hope has been given up. The poor girl herself never speaks on the subject, but old Holbein and his wife tell me she is sure that Kathy has never forgotten her father. It may be so; anyhow, she has forgotten his name—if she ever knew it." Next day Nigel made no objections to being guided to the most picturesque spots among the coral isles by the interesting orphan girl. If she had been older he might even have fallen in love with her, an event which would have necessitated an awkward modification of the ground-work of our tale. As it was, he pitied the poor child sincerely, and not only—recognising her genius—asked her advice a good deal on the subject of art, but—recognising also her extreme youth and ignorance—volunteered a good deal of advice in exchange, quite in a paternal way! CHAPTER IV. NIGEL UNDERGOES SOME QUITE NEW AND INTERESTING EXPERIENCES. The arrangements made on the following day turned out to be quite in accordance with the wishes and tastes of the various parties concerned. The ship's carpenter having been duly set to work on the repairs, and being inspected in that serious piece of prosaic business by the second mate, our captain was set free to charm the very souls of the juveniles by wandering for miles along the coral strand inventing, narrating, exaggerating to his heart's content. Pausing now and then to ask questions irrelevant to the story in hand, like a wily actor, for the purpose of intensifying the desire for more, he would mount a block of coral, and thence, sometimes as from a throne, or platform, or pulpit, impress some profound piece of wisdom, or some thrilling point, or some exceedingly obvious moral on his followers open-mouthed and open-eyed. These were by no means idlers, steeped in the too common business of having nothing to do. No, they had regularly sought and obtained a holiday from work or school; for all the activities of social and civilised life were going on full swing—fuller, indeed, than the average swing—in that remote, scarcely known, and beautiful little gem of the Indian Ocean. Meanwhile Nigel and Kathy, with sketch-books under their arms, went down to where the clear waters of the lagoon rippled on the white sand, and, launching a cockleshell of a boat, rowed out toward the islets. "Now, Kathy, you must let me pull," said Nigel, pushing out the sculls, "for although the captain tells me you are very good at rowing, it would never do for a man, you know, to sit lazily down and let himself be rowed by a girl." "Very well," said Kathy, with a quiet and most contented smile, for she had not yet reached the self-conscious age—at least, as ages go in the Cocos-Keeling Islands! Besides, Kathy was gifted with that charming disposition which never objects to anything—anything, of course, that does not involve principle! But it was soon found that, as the cockleshell had no rudder, and the intricacies they had to wind among were numerous, frequent directions and corrections were called for from the girl. "D' you know," said Nigel at last, "as I don't know where you want me to go to, it may be as well, after all, that you should row!" "Very well," said Kathy, with another of her innocent smiles. "I thinked it will be better so at first." Nigel could not help laughing at the way she said this as he handed her the sculls. She soon proved herself to be a splendid boatwoman, and although her delicate and shapely arms were as mere pipe- stems to the great brawny limbs of her companion, yet she had a deft, mysterious way of handling the sculls that sent the cockleshell faster over the lagoon than before. "Now, we go ashore here," said Kathy, turning the boat,—with a prompt back-water of the left scull, and a vigorous pull of the right one,—into a little cove just big enough to hold it. The keel went with such a plump on the sand, that Nigel, who sat on a forward thwart with his back landward, reversed the natural order of things by putting his back on the bottom of the boat and his heels in the air. To this day it is an unsettled question whether this was done on purpose by Kathy. Certain it is that she did not tumble, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her large lustrous eyes half shut themselves up and twinkled. "Why, you don't even apologise, you dreadful creature!" exclaimed Nigel, joining in the laugh, as he picked himself up. "Why should I 'pologise?" asked the girl, in the somewhat broken English acquired from her adopted family. "Why you not look out?" "Right, Kathy, right; I'll keep a sharp lookout next time. Meanwhile I will return good for evil by offering my hand to help you a—hallo!" While he spoke the girl had sprung past him like a grasshopper, and alighted on the sand like a butterfly. A few minutes later and this little jesting fit had vanished, and they were both engaged with pencil and book, eagerly— for both were enthusiastic—sketching one of the most enchanting scenes that can well be imagined. We will not attempt the impossible. Description could not convey it. We can only refer the reader's imagination to the one old, hackneyed but expressive, word—fairyland! One peculiarly interesting point in the scene was, that on the opposite side of the lagoon the captain could be seen holding forth to his juvenile audience. ART ON THE KEELING ISLANDS When a pretty long time had elapsed in absolute silence, each sketcher being totally oblivious of the other, Nigel looked up with a long sigh, and said:— "Well, you have chosen a most exquisite scene for me. The more I work at it, the more I find to admire. May I look now at what you have done?" "Oh yes, but I have done not much. I am slow," said the girl, as Nigel rose and looked over her shoulder. "Why!—what—how beautiful!—but—but—what do you mean?" exclaimed the youth. "I don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise. "Why, Kathy, I had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape all this time, and—and you've only been drawing a group of shells. Splendidly done, I admit, but why——" He stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Forgive me, dear child," said Nigel, hurriedly; "I did not intend to hurt your feelings. I was only surprised at your preference." "You have not hurt me," returned Kathy in a low voice, as she resumed her work, "but what you say calls back to me— my father was very fond of shells." She stopped, and Nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject. "You draw landscape also, I doubt not?" "Oh yes—plenty. If you come home to me to-night, I will show you some." "I shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to his sketch, "and perhaps I may be able to give you a hint or two—especially in reference to perspective—for I've had regular training, you know, Kathy, and I dare say you have not had that here." "Not what you will think much, perhaps, yet I have study a little in school, and very much from Nature." "Well, you have been under the best of masters," returned Nigel, "if you have studied much from Nature. And who has been your other teacher?" "A brother of Mr. Ross. I think he must understand very much. He was an engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many other things which were at first very hard to understand. But I do see them now." "Perhaps then, Kathleen," said Nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work —"perhaps you may be already too far advanced to require instruction from me." "Perhaps—but I think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. But why you call me Kathleen just now?" "Because I suppose that is your real name—Kathy being the short for it. Is it not so?" "Well, p'raps it is. I have hear mother Holbein say so once. I like Kathleen best." "Then, may I call you Kathleen?" "If you like." At this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound silence reigned—at least on their part, though not as regarded others, for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came floating over the tranquil lagoon from that part of the coral strand where Captain Roy was still tickling the fancies and expanding the imaginations and harrowing or soothing the feelings of the Cocos- Keeling juveniles. Inferior animal life was also...