CHAPTER TWENTY.
NIGEL MAKES A CONFIDANT OF MOSES--UNDERTAKES A LONELY WATCH AND SEESSOMETHING WONDERFUL.
It was not much supper that Nigel Roy ate that night. The excitementresulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously,and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidentialtalk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at lastattracted attention.
"You vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked Verkimier, when, havingsatiated himself, he found time to think of others--not that theprofessor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted toconcentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding.
The hermit paid no attention to anything that was said. His recentconversation had given vent to a flood of memories and feelings that hadbeen pent-up for many years.
After supper Nigel resolved to make a confidant of Moses. The negro'sfidelity to and love for his master would ensure his sympathy at least,if not wise counsel.
"Moses," he said, when the professor had raised himself to the seventhheaven by means of tobacco fumes, "come with me. I want to have atalk."
"Das what I's allers wantin', Massa Nadgel; talkin's my strong point, ifI hab a strong point at all."
They went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence theycould see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed ina glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down.
On a neighbouring cliff, which was crowned with a mass of grasses andshrubs, a small monkey also sat down, on a fallen branch, and watchedthem with pathetic interest, tempered, it would seem, by cutaneousirritation.
"Moses, I am sorely in need of advice," said Nigel, turning suddenly tohis companion with ill-suppressed excitement.
"Well, Massa Nadgel, you _does_ look like it, but I'm sorry I ain't adoctor. P'r'aps de purfesser would help you better nor--"
"You misunderstand me. Can you keep a secret, Moses?"
"I kin try--if--if he's not too diffikilt to keep."
"Well, then; listen."
The negro opened his eyes and his mouth as if these were the chieforifices for the entrance of sound, and advanced an ear. The distantmonkey, observing, apparently, that some unusual communication was aboutto be made, also stretched out its little head, cocked an ear, andsuspended its other operations.
Then, in low earnest tones, Nigel told Moses of his belief that Van derKemp's daughter might yet be alive and well, and detailed the recentconversation he had had with his master.
"Now, Moses; what d'ye think of all that?"
Profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied,"Massa Nadgel, I don't bery well know _what_ to t'ink."
"But remember, Moses, before we go further, that I tell you all this instrict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips."
The awful solemnity with which Nigel sought to impress this on hiscompanion was absolutely trifling compared with the expression of thatcompanion's countenance, as, with a long-drawn argumentative andremonstrative _Oh_! he replied:--
"Massa Nadgel. Does you really t'ink I would say or do any mortal t'ingw'atsumiver as would injure _my_ massa?"
"I'm _sure_ you would not," returned Nigel, quickly. "Forgive me,Moses, I merely meant that you would have to be very cautious--verycareful--that you do not let a word slip--by accident, you know--Ibelieve you'd sooner die than do an intentional injury to Van der Kemp.If I thought you capable of _that_, I think I would relieve my feelingsby giving you a good thrashing."
The listening monkey cocked its ear a little higher at this, and Moses,who had at first raised his flat nose indignantly in the air, graduallylowered it, while a benignant smile supplanted indignation.
"You're right dere, Massa Nadgel. I'd die a t'ousand times sooner daninjure massa. As to your last obserwation, it rouses two idees in mymind. First, I wonder how you'd manidge to gib me a t'rashin', an'second, I wonder if your own moder would rikognise you arter you'd triedit."
At this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that itheard aright. Nigel laughed shortly.
"But seriously, Moses," he continued; "what do you think I should do?Should I reveal my suspicions to Van der Kemp?"
"Cer'nly not!" answered the negro with prompt decision. "What! wake upall his old hopes to hab 'em all dashed to bits p'raps when you find datyou's wrong!"
"But I feel absolutely certain that I'm _not_ wrong!" returned Nigel,excitedly. "Consider--there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second,there is--"
"'Scuse me, Massa Nadgel, dere's no occasion to go all ober it again.I'll tell you what you do."
"Well?" exclaimed Nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagelyunder the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain.
"Here's what you'll do," said Moses.
"Well?" (impatiently, as the negro paused.)
"We're on our way home to Krakatoa."
"Yes--well?"
"One ob our men leabes us to-morrer--goes to 'is home on de coast.Kitch one ob de steamers dat's allers due about dis time."
"Well, what of that?"
"What ob dat! why, you'll write a letter to your fadder. It'll go by desteamer to Batavia. He gits it long before we gits home, so dere'splenty time for 'im to take haction."
"But what good will writing to my father do?" asked Nigel in a somewhatdisappointed tone. "_He_ can't help us."
"Ho yes, he can," said Moses with a self-satisfied nod. "See here, I'lltell you what to write. You begin, `Dear fadder--or Dearest fadder'--I's not quite sure ob de strengt' ob your affection. P'raps de safestway."
"Oh! get on, Moses. Never mind that."
"Ho! it's all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen'leman'll mindit. Hows'ever, put it as you t'ink best--`Dear fadder, victual yourship; up anchor; hois' de sails, an' steer for de Cocos-Keelin' Islands.Go ashore; git hold ob do young 'ooman called Kat'leen Hobbleben.'"
"Holbein, Moses."
"_What_! is she Moses too?"
"No, no! get on, man."
"Well, `Dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an'carry her off body and soul, an' whateber else b'longs to her. Take herto de town ob Anjer an' wait dere for furder orders.' Ob course for dewindin' up o' de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob youraffections, for, as--"
"Not a bad idea," exclaimed Nigel. "Why, Moses, you're a genius! Ofcourse I'll have to explain a little more fully."
"'Splain what you please," said Moses. "My business is to gib you debones ob de letter; yours--bein' a scholar--is to clove it wid flesh."
"I'll do it, Moses, at once."
"I should like," rejoined Moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile,"to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!"
The picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro togive way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like abrown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while Nigelwent off to write and despatch the important letter.
Next day the party arrived at another village, where, the report oftheir approach having preceded them, they were received with muchceremony--all the more that the professor's power with the rifle hadbeen made known, and that the neighbourhood was infested by tigers.
There can be little doubt that at this part of the journey thetravellers must have been dogged all the way by tigers, and it wasmatter for surprise that so small a party should not have been molested.Possibly the reason was that these huge members of the feline race wereafraid of white faces, being unaccustomed to them, or, perchance, theappearance and vigorous stride of even a few stalwart and fearless menhad intimidated them. Whatever the cause, the party reached the villagewithout seeing a single tiger, though their footprints were observed inmany places.
The wild scenery became more and more beautiful as this village wasneared.
Although flowers as a rule were small and inconspicuous in many parts ofthe great forest through which they passed, the rich pink and scar
let ofmany of the opening leaves, and the autumn-tinted foliage which laststhrough all seasons of the year, fully made up for the want of them--atleast as regards colour, while the whole vegetation was intermingled ina rich confusion that defies description.
The professor went into perplexed raptures, his mind being distracted bythe exuberant wealth of subjects which were presented to it all at thesame time.
"Look zere!" he cried, at one turning in the path which opened up a newvista of exquisite beauty--"look at zat!"
"Ay, it is a Siamang ape--next in size to the orang-utan," said Van derKemp, who stood at his friend's elbow.
The animal in question was a fine full-grown specimen, with longjet-black glancing hair. Its height might probably have been a fewinches over three feet, and the stretch of its arms over rather thanunder five feet, but at the great height at which it was seen--not lessthan eighty feet--it looked much like an ordinary monkey. It washanging in the most easy nonchalant way by one hand from the branch of atree, utterly indifferent to the fact that to drop was to die!
The instant the Siamang observed the travellers it set up a loud barkinghowl which made the woods resound, but it did not alter its position orseem to be alarmed in any degree.
"Vat a 'straordinary noise!" remarked the professor.
"It is indeed," returned the hermit, "and it has an extraordinaryappliance for producing it. There is a large bag under its throatextending to its lips and cheeks which it can fill with air by means ofa valve in the windpipe. By expelling this air in sudden bursts itmakes the varied sounds you hear."
"Mos' vonderful! A sort of natural air-gun! I vill shoot it," said theprofessor, raising his deadly rifle, and there is no doubt that the poorSiamang would have dropped in another moment if Van der Kemp had notquietly and gravely touched his friend's elbow just as the explosiontook place.
"Hah! you tooched me!" exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, lookingfiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of itsair-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off.
"Yes, I touched you, and if you _will_ shoot when I am so close to you,you cannot wonder at it--especially when you intend to take lifeuselessly. The time now at the disposal of my friend Nigel Roy will notpermit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens.To say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, forwe have a very long way to go."
Verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was asort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved tohave his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist.
On arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grandbanquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and Indian corn,spread out for them in the Balai or public hall, where also theirsleeping quarters were appointed. An event had recently occurred,however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception. A youngman had been killed by a tiger. The brute had leaped upon him while heand a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle,and had killed him with one blow of its paw. The other youthscourageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and,driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away.
"We have just buried the young man," said the chief of the village, "andhave set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave."
"My friends would like to see this trap," said the hermit, who, ofcourse, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being wellacquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago.
"There will yet be daylight after you have finished eating," said thechief.
Although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the proprietyof doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down totheir meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready.
Then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curioustiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being!
The grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side,the jungle came up to within a few yards of it. The spot was surroundedby a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrowbut very conspicuous opening had been left. Here a sharp spear was soarranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a pointcorresponding with the height of a tiger's heart from the ground--aswell, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were prettyfamiliar with tigers. The motive power to propel this spear was derivedfrom a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men tobend it in the form of a bow. A species of trigger was arranged to letthe bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across theopening about breast-high for a tiger. The intention was that theanimal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner--should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it.
"I have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said Nigel to Van der Kemp thatevening. "Do you think the people would object to my getting up into atree with my rifle and watching beside the grave, part of the night?"
"I am sure that they would not. But your watch will probably be invain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me tohave exceptional powers for scenting danger."
"No matter, I will try."
Accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed theprofessor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large gamethan his own gun, and sauntered with Moses down to the grave where heensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet fromthe ground. The form of the tree was such, that among its forks Nigelcould form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of thepoor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if heshould chance to drop asleep.
"Good-night, massa Nadgel," said Moses as he turned to leave hiscompanion to his solitary vigil. "See you not go to sleep."
"No fear of _that_!" said Nigel.
"An' whateber you do, don't miss."
"I'll do my best--Good-night."
While there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him;took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to theenclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, andarranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a braceof hardened balls. Then he looked up through the tree-tops and wishedfor darkness.
It came sooner than he expected. Night always descends more suddenly intropical than in temperate regions. The sun had barely dipped below thehorizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and anindescribable sensation of eerieness crept over Nigel's spirit. Objectsbecame very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving onthe newly-made grave. With a startled feeling he grasped his weapon,supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-likestealth. On second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for theentrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible.Do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intrudingupon him! He did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted theidea of their existence. Why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? Hecould not tell. It must simply be the excitement natural to such a verynew and peculiar situation. He would think of something else. He woulddevote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! In a short time themoon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better.
While he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the junglewrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the nightair a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in Nigel's bones seemedto shrivel up. It ceased, but again broke forth louder than before,increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle withthe sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe.
"I have always," muttered Nigel, "believed myself to be a man ofordinary courage, but _now_--I shall write myself a coward, if not anass!"
He attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow andseemed to freeze in his gullet
as the wail broke forth again, ten timesmore hideous than at first. After a time the wail became morecontinuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. Then a happythought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourningfor the dead! He was right. The duty of the father of the poor youthwho had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sitalone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge,or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. It was not till next day thatthis was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded himinstantaneous relief.
As if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the sametime and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much laterthat, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams throughthe tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave.
By that time Nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentallyblotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had writtenagainst himself. But another trouble now assailed him. He becamesleepy! Half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wideawake under the impression that he was falling off the tree.
"This will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting hisrifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmostextent so that he became thoroughly awake. After this "rouser," as hecalled it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep.
How long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he openedhis eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_required attention, and the first thing they rested on, (for daylightwas dawning), was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him,gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening ofthe enclosure. The sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for themoment, he was paralysed. Perhaps he thought it was a dream. Before hecould recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of theanimal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stoutbamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, thegiant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side!
Then occurred a scene which might well have induced Nigel to imaginethat he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosurewith a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of thehitherto silent forest. Rushing across the grave, it sprang with onetremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear alongwith it into the jungle beyond.
By that time Nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too lateto fire. The moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he sliddown the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger,--went crashinginto the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of arousednatives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends.
But our hero had not to go far. In his haste he almost tumbled over thetiger. It was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen!
A few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild withexcitement and joy. Soon he was joined by his own comrades.
"Well, you've managed to shoot him, I see," said Van der Kemp as hejoined the group.
"Alas! no. I have not fired a shot," said Nigel, with a halfdisappointed look.
"You's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked Moses as he pushed to thefront.
"The spear got the better of him, Moses."
"Vell now, zat is a splendid animal. Lat me see," said the professor,pulling out his tape-measure.
It was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted hismeasurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase togratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body.They dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadsideover the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness whichwere supposed to emanate from it! Then they skinned it, and pieces ofthe heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives hadbeen killed by tigers. Finally the skull was hacked to pieces for thepurpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives ascharms.
Blown to Bits: The Lonely Man of Rakata, the Malay Archipelago Page 20