Chapter XXII: Kirke and Denham Meet

Ralph forgot every language but his native English in the desperate excitement of the moment.

"Halloa! Ahoy!" he vociferated, without knowing what he called; but, to his great astonishment, the reply was no Burmese "Ameh!" (mother) the universal exclamation among the natives of that country upon every occasion.

No, one figure started violently, turned sharply round, lifted a hand to shade its eyes, with a gesture strangely familiar, and an English voice, equally strange and equally familiar, responded, "Halloa! Ahoy!" to his cry.

A great bustle was apparent, immediately, among the little party of fishermen. Some ran off by the path which had brought them there, evidently under direction from the leader of the party; some busied themselves in launching a little canoe, which Ralph had not previously discerned, being hid by overhanging bushes; and two men, putting off in it, prepared to ferry it across to the island.

Well was it that Ralph had not attempted to swim across that stream. These were lusty fellows, but all their strength was needed to row against it. The man who had answered Denham's call in English words, was one of the two; and Ralph stared hard at him as the canoe drew near.

There was something familiar in the attitude and movements, but the head was covered with a mass of curly black hair, while a forest of dark whisker, beard, and moustache concealed the lower part of the face, and flowed over the hairy breast. The dress was made of the same material as that of the natives,--a dark blue cloth, patterned with wavy black lines; but it differed in shape, consisting of a pair of loose trousers gathered into a waistband, and confined there with a coloured handkerchief, just such as young men in England tie over their cricketing flannels. A loose cotton jacket, open at the chest, and leaving the arms bare, was worn above this,--an outlandish costume, yet manly, and not unbecoming. It was also of European fashion, clearly betraying that its wearer was no native of that country.

"I never saw that fellow before," thought Ralph, "yet somehow I seem to know him."

The canoe drew nearer, the rower looked back over his shoulder, uttered a loud cry, and, flinging down his oar, sprang to his feet with the exclamation--

"Good God! Denham! Is it possible?"

Recognition came in the same instant.

"Kirke!" cried Ralph.

Nearly a year had elapsed since the two had met, but Ralph, being two or three years younger than Kirke, and of fairer complexion, had not altered so much, neither had he been living so long in the wilds out of reach of barber and other civilised influences.

Overjoyed on each side to meet with an Englishman, an accustomed face, they clasped each other's hands with eager greeting at the first impulse, forgetful of all ill-will, but Kirke drew back the next minute and hung his head.

"It is good of you to take my hand, Denham," said he. "Can you forgive me all I did and tried to do to you."

"I do not properly know what that was," said Ralph joyously. "I have never understood why you did not like me, nor believed half the others wanted to make out; but I am ever so glad to see you now."

"And you can forgive me?"

"Anything, everything, if you will only help me to get out of this place."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes, quite alone. I missed my party, and am lost. I have been wandering in the jungle for many days, and was starving."

"And in _that_ state? A literal Baresarker costume."

"Even so."

"Come along, I can do something to remedy _that_, at anyrate."

He hurried Ralph into the canoe, spoke a few words to his companion, and began to pull back to the mainland with great energy.

Arrived upon the shore, he despatched one of the Burmans for assistance, and the man scuttled off, grinning with immense goodwill; while the rest jabbered around the two strangers as they proceeded towards the village, where half the inhabitants were bustling about in eager hospitality.

Rice and fish were brought, plantains, pickled tea, cocoanuts and green ginger. Kirke mounted into his dwelling, and produced a garb similar to his own; and offered cheroots, which however Ralph did not accept.

He devoured the food with the appetite of a growing boy who had not tasted food for twenty-four hours; and Kirke piled up the bowl from which he ate whenever its contents shrank beneath the rim.

"Hold hard!" cried Ralph at last, "even I am gorged and can eat no more."

"Then tell me how you came here, and all that you have done since I saw you," said Kirke.

"As to all that I have been doing, that would be a long tale to tell," replied Ralph; "but, shortly put, I have been going about the country with Mr. Gilchrist, getting plants for Mr. Herford--orchids chiefly. We have not only got the things bodily to send home, but made drawings, whenever we could, of anything rare or special. About a fortnight ago we fell in with some wild elephants in a lonely place, and, in escaping from an old bull that had been turned out of the herd, as we fancied, I got separated from the rest of them, and met with a family party of tigers--papa, mamma, and offspring. I had to cut my lucky again; and, somehow, between the two adventures, lost my way, and could not find any of the fellows I was with. After roaming about, up hill and down dale, till I found that I was really befogged in the wilderness, it seemed the best thing I could do was to follow down the first water-course I could find, in hopes of coming somewhere in time. So I managed to knock up a gimcrack sort of a kind of raft, that served my turn as well as a better, till the rapids here broke it all to smithereens, and landed me yonder; where I must have died if you had not picked me off."

"I should think you had about enough of rafts by this time," said Kirke sadly.

"I have not had enough of friends in need," replied Ralph.

"You are a real good fellow, Denham," said the other, reaching out his hand to him. "I have wanted this long time to tell you how sorry I am for all that took place in the poor old _Pelican_, and to ask your forgiveness for my conduct to you. I was a bad messmate, a bad man in every way; but I see things differently now, and would do anything I knew of to redeem the past, if only I could see how. I did cut that rope, in a fit of mad jealousy, and repented of it as soon as it was done. I have suffered much from remorse since."

"That you repented as soon as you had done it, showed that you were not wholly bad at heart," said Ralph. "Don't say any more to me about it, Kirke. If you have made your peace with God, there is no need for me to preach, you know. Let us be friends in the future."

The two young men shook hands heartily, and Kirke felt happier than he had hoped ever to be again. He took Denham into the hut where he lived, and found him a mat to lie upon, the most luxurious bed upon which Ralph had stretched himself for many days. He was soon wrapped in the sweetest of slumbers thereon.

Sleep lasted till far into the next day, for he was quite worn out, and his quarters were fairly comfortable. When he awoke, he found Kirke watching him with grave earnest eyes, which brightened into a smile in response to Ralph's joyous greeting.

A good wash was Denham's first demand that morning; and when he had thus refreshed himself, he was indued into a suit of light garments such as Kirke wore, of European fashion, though constructed from native cloth; and then attacked the cold breakfast awaiting him.

"It is ever so good of you to provide me like this, Kirke," said he. "A fellow must have been reduced as low as I was to appreciate properly the comfort of being 'clothed and in one's right mind.' But how you come to be living here like this, is a mystery to me."

"You need have no scruples," replied Kirke. "My people at home are well-to-do folks, and I always had plenty of money. I had it in a belt that I always wore, and this helped me to get off from Moulmein, for it was chiefly in gold, and the Burmese understand English gold. I have some shots in the locker yet, for living is cheap in these wilds, and I have been ill, so have not wanted a great deal. I made up my mind to stay here till the rice harvest is gathered, for it might then be possible to get a passage to Rangoon, when they take it to market there. Once in Rangoon, I can always get supplies from home again; and, indeed, have a couple of English banknotes that will take me along for a time. Don't have any scruples as to having a little from me. You are safe to fall in with your people again in Rangoon, or the Herford's branch there would advance to you, even if you do not believe that I owe to you a debt that money will never replace."

"You are very generous," said Ralph, "and I am thankful to meet with anyone who both can and will help me. I know that I should be able to repay you in Rangoon, if we ever reach that place; so, meantime, thank you kindly. How long do you reckon it will be before the harvest will be ready?"

"Well, the rice is growing ripe. Look there, they have stuck up those beautiful erections all about lately."

In effect, there were three or four stages, fixed about fifteen feet above the ground, in different places. Each of these erections was of a size to accommodate a squatting Burman, smoking happily, with a bowl of rice and a jar of water by his side. Every now and then he gave a tug at a string, which communicated with a machinery of simple nature, consisting of bamboos, feathers and twine in endless ramifications, all set fluttering by the pull. This, and an unearthly screech uttered at the same moment, aroused a cloud of little green parrots that were feeding upon the rice. They fluttered and squalled in unison with the fluttering and squalling of the native, and all creation was lively. Then the Burman sank again into meditation upon the life of Guadama, or into slumber, or whatever he pleased to call it; the parrots went back to their feast, and all proceeded quietly until the watchman's sense of duty once more impelled him to exertion.

"We shall cut all that the birds condescend to leave us soon now," said Kirke. "In the meantime the fishery is going on, and the preparation of 'ngapé'! Can't you smell the stinking stuff on the breeze? Faugh!"

"I hope we may get a passage in a boat which carries rice alone," said Ralph, with a face of disgust. "How can the Burmese eat that disgusting stuff!"

The preparation of this favourite dainty in the Burmese commissariat, which is manufactured chiefly from rotten fish pounded up into a paste with various condiments, poisoned the air. Prawns are the favourite fish used, but there were none in this place.

Such secluded valleys as that into which Kirke had strayed, are great homes of this industry, for the fish come up into them in huge swarms to spawn, and are left behind, in the lakes and pools, when the hot season dries up much of the super-abundant water. To catch them is then easy, and the trade a profitable one.

"Oh," cried Kirke, "we won't go in one of those boats! Trust Jamie Kirke for that. Sooner than be stunk out of life like that, we will imitate the Welsh young lady's forefathers in the Flood, and have a boat of our own. We could sell it again in Rangoon. I don't know whether, now that you are here to help me, it would not be as well to cross these plains, and get a boat for ourselves on the Sittoung River. We could navigate it easily between us if we were careful about the bore."

"That would be very jolly," said Ralph. "I and my cargo," pointing to his precious bundle of orchids. "My cargo will not overburden you, I should be loath to part with it now, having brought it through so much peril that I almost have a superstitious feeling that it consists of my 'luck.' We should be more help than hindrance to you."

"You talk of superstitious feelings, Denham, but there is only a slight boundary between faith and superstition. I should not call it _superstition_ on my own part to believe that you had been sent by Providence to me, in answer to prayer for forgiveness and help."

"I know what you mean," replied Ralph gravely. "God does lead us in mysterious ways, and it is among these wonderful places that one learns to believe in what He can perform. We have seen strange things, both of us, since we left the humdrum Liverpool streets."

"Perhaps He was as plainly to be met with there, if we had but opened our eyes to note His footprints. Here we are shaken out of our own common jogtrot ways,--waked up,--have had our everyday husks peeled off, and are brought face to face with nature in its marvellous sublimity and simplicity."

The two young men sat silently after this, watching the movements of a couple of girls, whose occupation had suggested Kirke's simile.

They crouched upon their heels, one on either side of a handmill, in which they were husking "paddy," or rice in the original state, for the next family meal.

The handmill consisted of two hollow wooden receptacles, the upper one furnished with two handles, by which the girls worked it half round to the right and back to the left. This threw the grain through the grooved sides into the lower vessel, grinding the chaff off on its way. From the lower bowl it escaped to the floor through a hole in the bottom.

From the heap thus accumulated, a child emptied the rice into baskets, pouring it from one into another until the husk was fairly well winnowed from it; and then threw it into a mortar, sunk into the ground, and in which a heavy pestle worked by means of a long lever affixed to it, upon the end of which a graceful maiden was balancing herself, thus working it up and down to the time of a monotonous song which she chanted to herself--

"Oh! rice ka la! come!
Oh! rice ka la! come!
Mee Meht calls you, come, come!"

The rice grain gleamed white as pearls from among the dusky chaff as she worked; and ever and anon, with some joke from one or the other, the girlish voices bubbled over into a merry laugh.

"They seem happy," said Ralph.

"Ay, they do," Kirke replied, "but they are like animals,--_they_ do not 'look before and after.'"