Part 14 (2/2)

”Unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!” said Moses, shaking his fist, whereat Spinkie, promptly making an O of his mouth, looked fierce.

The sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and s.h.i.+p's-biscuit washed down with coffee. Of course Spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few sc.r.a.ps of cocoa-nut. Having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see.

After supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. The negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero--who did not smoke--lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee.

”From what you have told me of your former trading expeditions,” said Nigel, looking at his friend, ”you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took--excuse me--to the hermit life.”

”Ay--a good deal.”

”Have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?” asked Nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men--he did not care which, so long as they were wild!

”Yes, in all of them,” returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself.

”I suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?” continued Nigel interrogatively.

”They are, very.”

”But the wood is not of much value, I fancy, in the way of trade,”

pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for Van der Kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh.

”Not of much value in the way of trade!” he repeated--”forgive me, if I express surprise that you seem to know so little about us--but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything.”

Having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. He remained so long silent that Nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines.

”I suppose,” he said in a careless way, ”that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals.”

”My friend,” returned Van der Kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, ”it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. Borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which I hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your British islands, including Ireland, down on it they would be engulphed and surrounded by a sea of forests. New Guinea is, perhaps, larger than Borneo. Sumatra is only a little smaller. France is not so large as some of our islands. Java, Luzon, and Celebes are each about equal in size to Ireland. Eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as Jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the Isle of Wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. In short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full 4000 miles in length from east to west and about 1,300 in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of Europe.”

It was evident to Nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the floodgates. The hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while Moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. Nigel sat quite silent and waited for more.

”As to trade,” continued Van der Kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, ”why, of gold--the great representative of wealth--we export from Sumatra alone over 26,000 ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a Mount Ophir in the Malay Peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export.”

Continuing his discourse, Van der Kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm--as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land.

”Were you born in this region, Van der Kemp?” asked Nigel, during a brief pause.

”I was--in Java. My father, as my name tells, was of Dutch descent. My mother was Irish. Both are dead.”

He stopped. The fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him.

”And what about large game?” asked Nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated.

”Pardon me,” he said, ”I was dreaming of the days that are gone. Ah!

Nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old--the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. No one can _know_ till he has _felt_!”

”But you are not old,” said Nigel, wis.h.i.+ng to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly.

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