The Swiss Family Robinson

By this time the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, and the poultry, which had been straying to some little distance, gathered round us, and began to pick up the crumbs of biscuit which had fallen during our repast. My wife hereupon drew from her mysterious bag some handfuls of oats, peas, and other grain, and with them began to feed the poultry. She at the same time showed me several other seeds of various vegetables. ‘That was indeed thoughtful,’ said I, ‘but pray be careful of what will be of such value to us; we can bring plenty of damaged biscuits from the wreck, which though of no use as food for us, will suit the fowls very well indeed.’

The pigeons now flew up to crevices in the rocks, the fowls perched themselves on our tent pole, and the ducks and geese waddled off cackling and quacking to the marshy margin of the river. We too were ready for repose, and having loaded our guns, and offered up our prayers to God, thanking him for his many mercies to us, we commended ourselves to his protecting care, and as the last ray of light departed, closed our tent and lay down to rest.

The children remarked the suddenness of nightfall, for indeed there had been little or no twilight. This convinced me that we must be not far from the equator, for twilight results from the refraction of the sun’s rays; the more obliquely these rays fall, the further does the partial light extend, while the more perpendicularly they strike the earth the longer do they continue their undiminished force, until when the sun sinks, they totally disappear, thus producing sudden darkness.

CHAPTER 2 (#ulink_d088d0c8-a52e-5ea2-b5cf-afe4f0e48e11)

We should have been badly off without the shelter of our tent, for the night proved as cold as the day had been hot, but we managed to sleep comfortably, every one being thoroughly fatigued by the labours of the day. The voice of our vigilant cock, which as he loudly saluted the rising moon, was the last sound I heard at night, roused me at daybreak, and I then awoke my wife, that in the quiet interval while yet our children slept, we might take counsel together on our situation and prospects. It was plain to both of us that in the first place, we should ascertain if possible the fate of our late companions, and then examine into the nature and resources of the country on which we were stranded.

We therefore came to the resolution that, as soon as we had breakfasted, Fritz and I should start on an expedition with these objects in view, while my wife remained near our landing-place with the three younger boys.

‘Rouse up, rouse up, my boys,’ cried I, awakening the children cheerfully. ‘Come and help your mother to get breakfast ready.’

‘As to that,’ said she, smiling, ‘we can but set on the pot, and boil some more soup!’

‘Why! You forget Jack’s fine lobster!’ replied I. ‘What has become of it, Jack?’

‘It has been safe in this hole in the rock all night, father. You see, I thought as the dogs seem to like good things, they might take a fancy to that as well as to the agouti.’

‘A very sensible precaution,’ remarked I, ‘I believe even my heedless Jack will learn wisdom in time. It is well the lobster is so large, for we shall want to take part with us on our excursion today.’

At the mention of an excursion, the four children were wild with delight, and, capering around me, clapped their hands for joy.

‘Steady there, steady!’ said I, ‘you cannot expect all to go. Such an expedition as this would be too dangerous and fatiguing for you younger ones. Fritz and I will go alone this time, with one of the dogs, leaving the other to defend you.’

We then armed ourselves, each taking a gun and a game-bag; Fritz, in addition, sticking a pair of pistols in his belt, and I a small hatchet in mine; breakfast being over, we stowed away the remainder of the lobster and some biscuits, with a flask of water, and were ready for a start.

We now found that the banks of the stream were on both sides so rocky that we could get down to the water by only one narrow passage, and there was no corresponding path on the other side. I was glad to see this however, for I now knew that my wife and children were on a comparatively inaccessible spot, the other side of the tent being protected by steep and precipitous cliffs. Fritz and I pursued our way up the stream until we reached a point where the waters fell from a considerable height in a cascade, and where several large rocks lay half covered by the water; by means of these we succeeded in crossing the stream in safety. We thus had the sea on our left, and a long line of rocky heights, here and there adorned with clumps of trees, stretching away inland to the right. We had forced our way scarcely fifty yards through the long rank grass, which was here partly withered by the sun and much tangled, when we heard behind us a rustling, and on looking round saw the grass waving to and fro, as if some animal were passing through it. Fritz instantly turned and brought his gun to his shoulder, ready to fire the moment the beast should appear. I was much pleased with my son’s coolness and presence of mind, for it showed me that I might thoroughly rely upon him on any future occasion when real danger might occur; this time, however, no savage beast rushed out, but our trusty dog Turk, whom, in our anxiety at parting, we had forgotten, and who had been sent after us doubtless by my thoughtful wife.

From this little incident, however, we saw how dangerous was our position, and how difficult escape would be should any fierce beast steal upon us unawares: we therefore hastened to make our way to the open sea-shore. Here the scene which presented itself was indeed delightful. A background of hills, the green waving grass, the pleasant groups of trees stretching here and there to the very water’s edge, formed a lovely prospect. On the smooth sand we searched carefully for any trace of our hapless companions, but not the mark of a footstep could we find.

‘Shall I fire a shot or two?’ said Fritz. ‘That would bring our companions, if they are within hearing.’

‘It would indeed,’ I replied, ‘or any savages that may be here. No, no; let us search diligently, but as quietly as possible.’

‘But why, father, should we trouble ourselves about them at all? They left us to shift for ourselves, and I for one don’t care to set eyes on them again.’

‘You are wrong, my boy,’ said I. ‘In the first place, we should not return evil for evil; then, again, they might be of great assistance to us in building a house of some sort; and lastly, you must remember that they took nothing with them from the vessel, and may be perishing of hunger.’

Thus talking, we pushed on until we came to a pleasant grove which stretched down to the water’s edge; here we halted to rest, seating ourselves under a large tree, by a rivulet which murmured and splashed along its pebbly bed into the great ocean before us. A thousand gaily plumaged birds flew twittering above us, and Fritz and I gazed up at them.

My son suddenly started up.

‘A monkey,’ he exclaimed, ‘I am nearly sure I saw a monkey.’

As he spoke he sprang round to the other side of the tree, and in doing so stumbled over a round substance, which he handed to me, remarking, as he did so, that it was a round bird’s nest, of which he had often heard.

‘You may have done so,’ said I, laughing, ‘but you need not necessarily conclude that every round hairy thing is a bird’s nest; this, for instance, is not one, but a coconut.’

We split open the nut, but, to our disgust, found the kernel dry and uneatable.

‘Hullo,’ cried Fritz, ‘I always thought a coconut was full of delicious sweet liquid, like almond milk.’

‘So it is,’ I replied, ‘when young and fresh, but as it ripens the milk becomes congealed, and in course of time is solidified into a kernel. This kernel then dries as you see here, but when the nut falls on favourable soil, the germ within the kernel swells until it bursts through the shell, and, taking root, springs up a new tree.’

‘I do not understand,’ said Fritz, ‘how the little germ manages to get through this great thick shell, which is not like an almond or hazel-nut shell, that is divided down the middle already.’

‘Nature provides for all things,’ I answered, taking up the pieces. ‘Look here, do you see these three round holes near the stalk; it is through them that the germ obtains egress. Now let us find a good nut if we can.’

As coconuts must be over-ripe before they fall naturally from the tree, it was not without difficulty that we obtained one in which the kernel was not dried up. When we succeeded, however, we were so refreshed by the fruit that we could defer the repast we called our dinner until later in the day, and so spare our stock of provisions.

Continuing our way through a thicket, which was so densely overgrown with lianas that we had to clear a passage with our hatchets, we again emerged on the sea-shore beyond, and found an open view, the forest sweeping inland, while on the space before us stood at intervals single trees of remarkable appearance.

These at once attracted Fritz’s observant eye, and he pointed to them, exclaiming, ‘Oh, what absurd-looking trees, father! See what strange bumps there are on the trunks.’

We approached to examine them, and I recognized them as calabash trees, the fruit of which grows in this curious way on the stems, and is a species of gourd, from the hard rind of which bowls, spoons, and bottles can be made. ‘The savages,’ I remarked, ‘are said to form these things most ingeniously, using them to contain liquids: indeed, they actually cook food in them.’

‘Oh, but that is impossible,’ returned Fritz. ‘I am quite sure this rind would be burnt through directly it was set on the fire.’

‘I did not say it was set on the fire at all. When the gourd has been divided in two, and the shell or rind emptied of its contents, it is filled with water, into which the fish, or whatever is to be cooked, is put; red-hot stones are added until the water boils; the food becomes fit to eat, and the gourd-rind remains uninjured.’

‘That is a very clever plan: very simple too. I daresay I should have hit on it, if I had tried,’ said Fritz.

‘The friends of Columbus thought it very easy to make an egg stand upon its end when he had shown them how to do it. But now suppose we prepare some of these calabashes, that they may be ready for use when we take them home.’

Fritz instantly took up one of the gourds, and tried to split it equally with his knife, but in vain: the blade slipped, and the calabash was cut jaggedly. ‘What a nuisance!’ said Fritz, flinging it down, ‘The thing is spoiled; and yet it seemed so simple to divide it properly.’

‘Stay,’ said I, ‘you are too impatient, those pieces are not useless. Do you try to fashion from them a spoon or two while I provide a dish.’

I then took from my pocket a piece of string, which I tied tightly round a gourd, as near one end of it as I could; then tapping the string with the back of my knife, it penetrated the outer shell. When this was accomplished, I tied the string yet tighter; and drawing the ends with all my might, the gourd fell, divided exactly as I wished.

‘That is clever!’ cried Fritz. ‘What in the world put that plan into your head?’

‘It is a plan,’ I replied, ‘which the negroes adopt, as I have learned from reading books of travel.’

Well, it certainly makes a capital soup-tureen, and a soup-plate too,’ said Fritz, examining the gourd. ‘But supposing you had wanted to make a bottle, how would you have set to work?’

‘It would be an easier operation than this, if possible. All that is necessary, is to cut a round hole at one end, then to scoop out the interior, and to drop in several shot or stones; when these are shaken, any remaining portions of the fruit are detached, and the gourd is thoroughly cleaned, and the bottle completed.’

‘That would not make a very convenient bottle though, father; it would be more like a barrel.’

‘True, my boy; if you want a more shapely vessel, you must take it in hand when it is younger. To give it a neck, for instance, you must tie a bandage round the young gourd while it is still on the tree, and then all will swell but that part which you have checked.’

As I spoke, I filled the gourds with sand, and left them to dry; marking the spot that we might return for them on our way back.

For three hours or more we pushed forward, keeping a sharp look-out on either side for any trace of our companions, till we reached a bold promontory, stretching some way into the sea, from whose rocky summit I knew that we should obtain a good and comprehensive view of the surrounding country. With little difficulty we reached the top, but the most careful survey of the beautiful landscape failed to show us the slightest sign or trace of human beings. Before us stretched a wide and lovely bay, fringed with yellow sands, either side extending into the distance, and almost lost to view in two shadowy promotories; enclosed by these two arms lay a sheet of rippling water, which reflected in its depths the glorious sun above. The scene inland was no less beautiful; and yet Fritz and I both felt a shade of loneliness stealing over us as we gazed on its utter solitude.

‘Cheer up, Fritz, my boy,’ said I, presently. ‘Remember that we chose a settler’s life long ago, before we left our own dear country; we certainly did not expect to be so entirely alone – but what matters a few people, more or less. With God’s help, let us endeavour to live here contentedly, thankful that we were not cast upon some bare and inhospitable island. But come, the heat here is getting unbearable; let us find some shady place before we are completely broiled away.’