CHAPTER XVIII.

THE MERGUI ARCHIPELAGO.

“Alone she sat—alone! that worn-out word, So idly spoken and so coldly heard; Yet all the poets sing, and grief hath known, Of hope laid waste, knells in that word—alone!”

Anyone glancing at a map of the world’s two hemispheres, cannot fail to notice that all the continents end in more or less pointed extremities looking due south, and that most of the larger islands, showing length in lieu of breadth, also lie nearly due north and south. The first half of the above remark is pointed by such examples as South America, Africa, India, and the prolongation from China in the direction now under notice; while the latter finds expression in the larger islands of the West India group; also in Sumatra, Java, Flores, Timor, New Guinea, and many others. Any attempt at an explanation of this curious symmetry in the conformation of our earth would be more appropriate to a manual of geography; and as it would involve the balancing of the many theories in favour of a local or universal deluge, I shall not enter into it.

The islands of the archipelago we were now approaching partook much of the same character. After a run of three hundred miles we came to them, a group keeping remarkably equidistant from the mainland, as far as Wellesley in the Malay Peninsula. Exceedingly beautiful and tempting they looked, as we passed each in turn; all well wooded, their shores composed, as the mainland, of sand and rock, but the only signs of life came from a few birds flitting about the trees, and a stray turtle basking on the shore. Man had not set his mark on the place.

As the steamer could not put us ashore we had to satisfy our curiosity by the aid of the glass. One island, the largest we had yet passed, was, so the captain told me, associated with that historical period when the French and ourselves were still trying conclusions as to which power was to be predominant in the East.

An opening in the side facing the mainland led to a sort of basin in the interior of the island, a natural dock, which the French found very handy for their vessels under repairs. The British fleet was then in pursuit of them, and probably passed in sight of this identical island, never dreaming of the snug retreat within. Otherwise, it had gone badly with the French, who would have been caught in a trap; for a single British vessel would have sufficed to guard the entrance, until the enemy capitulated.

As we surveyed each island in turn, striving in vain to distinguish some signs of higher animal life, and wondering why such beautiful spots should continue uninhabited, my thoughts wandered into the region of fancy, and pictured many things.

So strong in me was the desire of leading a Robinson Crusoe kind of existence on one of them, that I must have given my thoughts audible expression, for I heard a voice beside me, “No, you wouldn’t; and if you did you’d be sorry for it!” I saw that the speaker was a merchant, the owner of a coasting vessel; and as he refused to explain his interruption, I might have considered it an impertinence on his part, but that his face betrayed unwonted sadness. For two days he made no further allusion to the subject, and I was left to speculate upon the probable cause of his emotion; someone he loved, perhaps, fell overboard opposite that identical island into the jaws of a ravenous shark. Or maybe, a quarrel arose among his Lascars, who forthwith ran amuck, staining his decks with blood, and branding his good ship with an evil reputation.

Or, if both these conjectures were erroneous, he may have been driven ashore through carelessness or a storm, suffering thereby pecuniary loss as well as bodily injury.

As usual, my speculations were all at fault. One evening after dinner, my fellow-passenger told me his tale; and as it will serve as a warning to those of my readers who are given to dwelling in airy castles, besides affording a more specific description of the general characteristics of these islands than my own personal experience would enable me to give, I make no apology for reproducing it, while we are still in sight of the archipelago.

He was, as I have already mentioned, a trader, the owner of a sailing-vessel, in which he conveyed merchandise between the various ports along the coast. It was an independent and profitable method of doing business, and his Lascars were all hard-working, steady men.

Sailing to and fro past these islands, the idea of residing on one of them for a time, Crusoe fashion, grew upon him with such force, that it finally became irresistible.

The first move in the wrong direction was landing, and roaming about the island—the identical one that had attracted my attention two days previously—with one of his men.

Not content, however, he constructed a temporary abode on the side facing the mainland, which was fitted up in a rude way with some of the ship’s furniture; and as nothing ever passed on that side of the island, save the mail steamer and his own vessel, he left everything there in perfect security, his mind occupied in thinking of the various essential articles which had to be taken out on successive trips, and eagerly looking forward to the time when he should take up his abode there.

At length, everything was ready, and he determined to try the experiment during the next voyage to Moulmein. His men, with the customary politeness of natives in respect of the actions of any European, forbore from questioning his intentions, which they may have guessed to some extent, though certainly not _in toto_.

It only remained to send for his head man, explain the state of affairs to him, and hand over the care of the ship. That worthy received the charge without a word of surprise or remonstrance; and, although he knew that he was about to commit a rash act, and would have given worlds to retract, he now felt that having shared his plans with a subordinate, he must go through with them at any cost.

It was his last night on board. He tossed about in his cabin, picturing to himself all manner of evils and unknown dangers, till thoughts became dreams, and he enjoyed a troubled sleep.

Next morning, however, Aurora’s harbinger dispelled his gloomy fears; and he was more firmly wedded to his purpose than ever.

There was a good deal of whispering among the men, until one of them, acting as spokesman, endeavoured with native eloquence to dissuade him from his ill-advised purpose; but he threw away this last golden opportunity of retiring gracefully from a most awkward position, and was duly landed with a gun and some ammunition, together with such creature comforts as the occasion demanded.

After carrying the things up to the hut, the men salaam’d and returned to the ship, which soon sailed out of sight.

Then for the first time did he realize the significance of the word “solitude”: the very voice of nature seemed hushed, and an unearthly silence pervaded the entire scene. Returning to the hut, he lit a lamp and sank into an easy-chair with his gun close at hand. Here he slept for some time, being visited by the most fanciful dreams, and was at length startled into consciousness by the falling of his shot-belt.

When he awoke, his usual supper hour was long past; but unable to eat anything, he uncorked a bottle of beer, and the noise seemed terrific in the midst of that deathlike silence—everything frightened him, the cry of a bird, the moaning of a larger wave than usual on the shore.

Next morning he busied himself about the hut, and tried fishing; but he could not settle down to any occupation. Above all, he dreaded the lonely evening and the wakeful night. He had food in variety and abundance, but the desire to eat was in abeyance. Another night of nervous anxiety: he kept his door securely fastened, although he knew that nothing was there to enter, even had it been left wide open.

His fears now took the form of savages visiting the island to feast, perchance, on prisoners captured in some recent encounter.

On the third night, he managed to fortify the hut in some measure; loaded both his guns, and saw to his revolver, which lay under his pillow, and which he grasped many times during the night, as his disordered imagination conjured up some visionary danger.

The fourth day, he awoke with the same ideas uppermost in his mind, opened the door of his hut cautiously and stole out on to the shore.

In vain he looked all ways for a sail, half expecting to see a canoe full of savages down by the beach. Standing on a lofty ledge of rock and looking down into the clear, deep water, he watched the fish darting to and fro; and a horrible propensity to throw himself in and end his troubles in the bowels of a shark rushed upon him. It was but ephemeral; yet he turned his back on the sea, for fear lest it should grow upon him.

The desire often came upon him to shout; but weighed down by the silence of his surroundings, he dared not even speak aloud.

But the consciousness of self-control in having resisted that fearful temptation had a good effect upon him, for he soon entered on a more peaceful and contented frame of mind.

One day, he bethought him of another attempt at fishing, and he managed with a couple of handlines to catch numbers of the unsuspecting fish, when suddenly he saw the back fin of a shark. Either the shock caused by this unwelcome sight, or a tug more violent than usual caused him to lose his footing on the slippery rock, and he fell into the water. Strange coincidence! to have almost succumbed by accident to the fate he had nearly courted by design! Half a dozen strokes placed him out of danger; and when he looked round there was the shark darting about in the very place, attracted no doubt by the commotion. Never again would he try fishing on that island.

He returned to the hut and changed his wet clothes; and on revisiting the spot the same afternoon, found several sharks there, all seeking the cause of the splash, hoping against hope that their diligence might be rewarded.

His attention was next directed to that interesting amphibian that visited the shore at this season for the purpose of depositing its eggs in the sand—the turtle.

He turned one and despatched it for the table; then following its footprints away from the sea, he came upon its eggs, pretty, waxy-looking specimens, and very good eating when properly baked. The turtle found in these parts doubtless belonged to the ordinary edible species, the _Chelonia virgata_; a variety lacking the green fat found in those peculiar to the West Indies, and therefore beneath the notice of an alderman.

At last, after many days of watching and weariness, during which he was utterly weakened in body and mind, this voluntary Crusoe espied a sail on the far horizon over towards Moulmein. Nearer and nearer it came, until he lit a huge bonfire of dry leaves and fired off several charges from his gun.

All this was unnecessary, for it was his own ship coming back for him. The joy of the meeting between master and men was mutual. It seemed ages since he had heard the sound of a human voice; and, surrounded by his trustworthy Lascars, he made his first hearty meal under that roof.

And the last; for after a stroll round the island, during which he showed the men the rock from which he had fallen, they carried the chattels back to the ship and quitted the island for good and all.

His men—faithful souls—unable to bear the suspense any longer, had turned back for him, at the risk of incurring his displeasure, before they had got half way to Moulmein.

Such was the burden of his narrative, which occupied nearly two hours, so that it was late ere we turned in. Sounds issuing from the captain’s cabin proved unmistakably that he was in the Land of Nod; and I soon joined in the melody, dreaming all manner of things connected with an island, a kind of “dream within a dream.”

The captain asked me next morning what had kept us conversing up to so late an hour of the night, so that I shrewdly suspect the hum of our voices disturbed the first part of his rest.

I had, however, promised my fellow-passenger not to make any further allusion to the subject of his story within his hearing, so the captain had to be content with a promise that I would entertain him therewith as soon as Mr. —— had left the ship.