CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN.
Steam has pretty well subdued time. Fifty years ago it was a mightyfeat to "put a circle round the globe." Now-a-days a "Cook"--by nomeans a captain--will take or send you round it in "a few weeks."
Romantic reader, don't despair! By such means romance has undoubtedlybeen affected in some degree, but let not that grieve thee! Romance hasby no means been taken out of the world; nor has it been, to use anunromantic phrase, reduced in quantity or quality. Human inventions andappliances alter the aspects of romance, and transfer its influences,but they cannot destroy a Creator's gift to the human race. They have,indeed, taken the romance out of some things which were once romantic,but that is simply because they have made such things familiar andcommonplace. They have not yet touched _other_ things which stillremain in the hallowed region of romance. Romance _is_ a region.Things crowd out of it, but other things crowd into it. The romanticsoul dwells perpetually in it, and while, perhaps with regret, itrecognises the fact that many things depart from that region, it alsoobserves, with pleasure, that many things enter into it, and that theentrances are more numerous than the exits. The philosophico-romanticspirit will admit all this and be grateful. The unphilosophico-romanticspirit will not quite see through it, and may, perchance, be perplexed.But be of good cheer. Have faith! Do not let the matter-of-fact"steam-engine," and the "telegraph," and the "post-office," rob thee ofthy joys. They have somewhat modified the flow of the river of Romance,but they have not touched its fountain-head,--and never can.
Why, what is Romance? Despite the teachings of the dictionaries--whichoften give us the original and obsolete meaning of words--we maintainthat romance signifies the human soul's aspirations after the high, andthe grand, and the good. In its fallen condition the poor soulundoubtedly makes wondrous mistakes in its romantic strainings, butthese mistakes are comparatively seldom on the side of exaggeration.Our dictionary says that romance is extravagance--a fiction which passesbeyond the limits of real life. Now, we maintain that no one--not eventhe most romantic of individuals--ever comes _up_ to real life. We havebeen a child--at least we incline to that belief--and we have been, likeother children, in the habit of romancing, as it is called, that is,according to dictionaries, passing "beyond the limits of real life" into"extravagance." We are now a man--it is to be hoped--have travelled farand seen much and yet we can say conscientiously that the wildestfancies of our most romantic moods in childhood have been immeasurablysurpassed by the grand realities of actual life! What are the mostbrilliant fancies of a child or of a mere ignorant "romancer," comparedto the amazing visions of the Arctic regions or the high Alps, which wehave seen? "Fictions" and "extravagance"! All our wildest sallies arebut _in_travagance and feeble fancy compared with the sublimity of fact.No doubt there are men and women gifted with the power of burlesquingreality, and thus, not going beyond its limits, but causing much dustand confusion within its limits by the exaggeration and falsification ofindividual facts. This, however, is _not_ romance. We stand up forromance as being the bright staircase that leads childhood to reality,and culminates at last in that vision which the eye of man hath not yetseen nor his mind conceived; a vision which transcends all romance isitself the greatest of all realities, and is "laid up for the people ofGod."
We return from this divergence to the point which led to it--the powerof steam to subdue time. No doubt it was unromantic enough to bepushed, propelled, thrust, willing or not willing, against, or with,wind and tide, so that you could gauge your distance run--and to berun--almost to a foot; but it was very satisfactory, nevertheless,especially to those whose hearts were far in advance of their vessel,and it was more than satisfactory when at the end of their voyage of afew days they found themselves gliding swiftly, almost noiselessly, upthe windings of a quiet river whose picturesque scenery, romanticvistas, and beautiful reflections might have marked it the entrance to aparadise instead of a human pandemonium.
It was very early when the gun-boat entered the stream. The mists ofmorning still prevailed, and rendered all nature fairy-like.Weird-looking mangrove bushes rose on their leg-like roots from thewater, as if independent of soil. Vigorous parasites and creepersstrove to strangle the larger trees, but strove in vain. Thick jungleconcealed wealth of feathered, insect, and reptile life, including thereptile man, and sundry notes of warning told that these were awaking totheir daily toil--the lower animals to fulfil the ends of their being,the higher animal to violate some of the most blessed laws of hisCreator. Gradually the sun rose and dispelled the mists, while itwarmed everything into strong vitality. As they passed up, clouds ofwater-fowl rose whirring from their lairs, and luxuriant growth of weedsthreatened to obstruct the progress of the steamer.
"Come here, policeman," said the captain to the native functionary; "howfar above this, did you say, is the nest of the vipers?"
"'Bout tree mile."
"Humph!" ejaculated the captain, turning to Berrington, who had come ondeck at the moment. "I never went higher up the river than this point,for, just ahead, there are reeds enough to stop the screw of a threethousand ton ship, but if you'll get your diving-dresses ready I'll tryit. It would be much better to bring our big guns to bear on them thanto attack in boats."
"I'll have 'em ready directly," said Edgar. "Perhaps we'd better stopthe engines now."
"Just so; stop them."
The engines were stopped, and the gun-boat glided slowly over the stillwater until it came to rest on its own inverted image.
Meanwhile the air-pump was rigged, and Joe Baldwin put on his dress, tothe great interest and no little surprise of the Malay crew.
"Ready, sir," said Edgar, when Joe sat costumed, with the helmet at hisside and his friends Rooney and Maxwell at the pumps.
"Go ahead, then--full steam," said the captain.
Just in front of the vessel the river was impeded quite across by adense growth of rank reeds and sedges; a little further on there wasclear water. Into this the gun-boat plunged under full steam.
As was expected, the screw soon became choked, and finally stopped. Hadthe pirates expected this they would probably have made a vigorousattack just then. But the danger, being so obvious, had never beforebeen incurred, and was therefore not prepared for or taken advantage ofby the pirates. Nevertheless the captain was ready for them if they hadattacked. Every man was at his station armed to the teeth.
The moment the boat began to work heavily Joe's helmet was put on, andwhen she came to a stand he went over the stern by means of arope-ladder prepared for the purpose.
"Be as active as you can, Joe. Got everything you want?" said Edgar,taking up the bull's-eye.
"All right, sir," said Joe.
"Pump away," cried Edgar, looking over his shoulder.
Next moment Joe was under water, and the Malays, with glaring eyes andopen mouths, were gazing at the confusion of air-bubbles that arose fromhim continually. From their looks it seemed as though some of themfancied the whole affair to be a new species of torture invented bytheir captain.
Joe carried a small hatchet in his girdle and a long sharp knife in hishand. With these he attacked the reeds and weeds, and in ten minutes orless had set the screw free. He soon reappeared on the rope-ladder, andEdgar, who had been attending to his lines, removed the bull's-eye.
"What now, Joe?" he asked.
"All clear," said Joe, coming inboard.
"What! Done it already?"
"Ay; steam ahead when you like, sir."
The order was given at once. The assistant engineer put on full steam,and the gun-boat, crashing through the remaining obstruction, floatedinto the comparatively clear water beyond. The screw had been againpartially fouled, of course, but ten minutes more of our diver's knifeand axe set it free, and the vessel proceeded on her way.
Scouts from the pirate-camp had been watching the gun-boat, for they hadcounted on nothing worse than an attack by boats, which, stro
ng innumbers, they could easily have repelled. Great therefore was theconsternation when these scouts ran in and reported that the vessel hadcleared the obstructions by some miraculous power which they could notexplain or understand, and was now advancing on them under full steam.
While the operations we have described were being carried out on boardthe gun-boat, in the pirate village poor Mr Hazlit was seated on astump outside a rude hut made chiefly of bamboos and palm leaves. Hewore only his trousers and shirt, both sadly torn--one of the pirateshaving taken a fancy to his coat and vest, the former of which he woreround his loins with his legs thrust through the sleeves. The captivemerchant sat with his face buried in his hands and bowed on his knees.
Inside the hut sat Aileen with poor Miss Pritty resting on her bosom.Miss Pritty was of a tender confiding nature, and felt it absolutelynecessary to rest on somebody's bosom. She would rather have used acat's or dog's than none. Aileen, being affectionate and sympathetic,had no objection. Nevertheless, not being altogether of angelicextraction, she was a little put out by the constant tremors of herfriend.
"Come, dear, don't shudder so fearfully," she said, in a half coaxinghalf remonstrative tone.
"Is he gone?" asked Miss Pritty in a feeble voice, with her eyes tightshut.
She referred to a half-naked warrior who had entered the hut, had halfshut his great eyes, and had displayed a huge cavern of red gum andwhite teeth in an irresistible smile at the woe-begone aspect of MissPritty. He had then silently taken his departure.
"Gone," repeated Aileen, rather sharply; "of course he is, and if hewere not, what then? Sure his being dark and rather lightly clothed isnot calculated to shock you so much."
"Aileen!" exclaimed Miss Pritty, raising her head suddenly, and gazingwith anxiety into the face of her friend; "has our short residence amongthese wretches begun to remove that delicacy of mind and sentiment forwhich I always admired you?"
"_No_," returned Aileen, firmly, "but your excessive alarms may havedone something towards that end. Nay, forgive me, dear," she added,gently, as Miss Pritty's head sank again on her shoulder, with a sob, "Idid not mean to hurt your feelings, but really, if you only think of it,our present position demands the utmost resolution, caution, andfortitude of which we are capable; and you know, love, that thisshuddering at trifles and imagining of improbabilities will tend tounfit you for action when the time arrives, as it surely will sooner orlater, for my father has taken the wisest steps for our deliverance,and, besides, a Greater than my father watches over us."
"That is true, dear," assented Miss Pritty, with a tender look. "Nowyou speak like your old self; but you must not blame me for being sofoolish. Indeed, I know that I am, but, then, have not my worst fearsbeen realised? Are we not in the hands--actually in the hands--ofpirates--real pirates, buccaneers--ugh!"
Again the poor lady drooped her head and shuddered.
"_Your_ worst fears may have been realised," said Aileen; "but we havecertainly not experienced the worst that might have happened. On thecontrary, we have been remarkably well treated--what do you say? Fed onrats and roast puppies! Well, the things they send us _may_ be such,for they resemble these creatures as much as anything else, but they arewell cooked and very nice, you must allow, and--"
At that moment Aileen's tongue was suddenly arrested, and, figurativelyspeaking, Miss Pritty's blood curdled in her veins and her heart ceasedto beat, for, without an instant's warning, the woods resounded with aterrific salvo of artillery; grape and canister shot came tearing,hissing, and crashing through the trees, and fierce yells, mingled withfiend-like shrieks, rent the air.
Both ladies sat as if transfixed--pale, mute, and motionless. Nextmoment Mr Hazlit sprang into the hut, glaring with excitement, while astream of blood trickled from a slight wound in his forehead.
Uttering a yell, no whit inferior to that of the fiercest pirate nearhim, and following it up with a fit of savage laughter that was quiteappalling, the once dignified and self-possessed merchant rolled hiseyes round the hut as if in search of something. Suddenly espying aheavy pole, or species of war-club, which lay in a corner, he seized itand whirled it round his head as if he had been trained to such armsfrom childhood.
Just then a second salvo shook the very earth. Mr Hazlit sprang out ofthe hut, shouted, "To the rescue! Aileen, to the rescue!" in the voiceof a Stentor, plunged wildly into a forest-path, and disappeared almostbefore the horrified ladies could form a guess as to his intentions.