“This is what I call my observatory,” said the hermit, turning to his guest. “We have passed right through the peak of Rakata, and reached its northern side, which commands, as you see, a view of all the northern part of the island. I come here often in the night to study the face of the heavens, the moon, and stars, and meditate on their mysterious Maker, whose ways are indeed wonderful and past finding out; but all which must, in the nature of things, be right.”
As this was the first mention that the hermit had made of the Creator, and the reference was one requiring more thought than Nigel had yet bestowed on it, he made no rejoinder.
“Have you studied astronomy, Mr Roy?”
“No—at least not more of it than was needful for navigation. But pray, sir, do not call me Mr Roy,” said the youth, with a somewhat embarrassed air. “If I am to be your assistant and familiar companion for two or three months, I hope that you will agree to call me Nigel. Your man has done so already without asking leave!”
“I will, on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“That you also dispense with the ‘Mr’ and ‘sir,’ and call me Van der Kemp.”
“Agreed,” said Nigel, “though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years.”
“Look here,” said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth’s observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, “these are my astronomical instruments.”
He pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes—and microscopes as well—one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches.