The night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon.  This cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them.  The dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven’s lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below.  Only the faint gleam of Krakatoa’s threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears.

It was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and Nigel—­as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea—­might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father’s brig.  His feelings were by no means relieved when Van der Kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone—­

“The steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night.  They come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time.”

“But should we not hear them coming a long way off?” asked Nigel.

“Ay.  It is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well.”

As he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the forehatch and took out a small sail which he asked Nigel to pass aft to the negro.

“Close-reef it, Moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible.  After that we will lay-to.”

“All right, massa,” said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important.  “Don’ forgit Spinkie, massa.”

“You may be sure I won’t do that,” replied the hermit.  “Come along, monkey!”

Evidently Van der Kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail.  Nigel could not see this—­not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit’s bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark—­“That’s a good little fellow.  Keep your head down, now, while I shut you in!”

From the same place Van der Kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe—­running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck—­while Moses was busy reefing the mainsail.

From the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoe-men, the tails thrust below-deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water.