“What cheer, Van der Kemp?  D’ye want a lift to-day?” shouted the skipper, looking over the side.

A nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit’s reply.

“Heave a rope, boys—­bow and stern—­and lower away the tackle,” was the skipper’s order.

A coil was flung to Van der Kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight.  Another was flung to Moses, who also caught it and held on—­slack.  At the same moment, Nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head.

“Catch it, Nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow,” said the hermit.

Our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn.

“Haul away!” shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of Van der Kemp and Moses.  At the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed.

It was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that Nigel found himself on the steamer’s deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper.

“You see, Nigel,” said Van der Kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, “I have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the Java seas.  Many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when I require it.”

“Very kind of them, and very convenient,” returned Nigel.  He felt inclined to add:  “But why all this moving about?” for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit’s object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject.

“D’ye know, Van der Kemp, that I feel as if I must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me.  Have you ever been in England?”

“Never.  As I have told you, I was born in Java, and was educated in Hongkong at an English School.  But a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon.  I myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that I spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that I was mistaken.”

The captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation.

“Are you engaged, Van der Kemp?” he asked.

“No—­I am at your service.”

“Come below then, I want to have a talk with you.”

Thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, Nigel went forward to see what was going on.  He found a group of sailors round his comrade Moses, apparently engaged in good-natured “chaff.”

“Come, now, blackey,” said one; “be a good fellow for once in your life an’ tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like Robinson Crusoe, an’ go about the ocean in a canoe.”