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‘Oh, look here, father!’ cried Jack, drawing a little spy-glass joyfully out of his pocket.
By means of this glass, I made out that at some distance to the left the coast was much more inviting; a strong current however carried us directly towards the frowning rocks, but I presently observed an opening, where a stream flowed into the sea, and saw that our geese and ducks were swimming towards this place. I steered after them into the creek, and we found ourselves in a small bay or inlet where the water was perfectly smooth and of moderate depth. The ground sloped gently upwards from the low banks to the cliffs which here retired inland, leaving a small plain, on which it was easy for us to land. Everyone sprang gladly out of the boat but little Franz, who, lying packed in his tub like a potted shrimp, had to be lifted out by his mother.
The dogs had scrambled on shore before us; they received us with loud barking and the wildest demonstrations of delight. The geese and ducks kept up an incessant din, added to which was the screaming and croaking of flamingoes and penguins, whose dominion we were invading. The noise was deafening, but far from unwelcome to me, as I thought of the good dinners the birds might furnish.
As soon as we could gather our children around us on dry land, we knelt to offer thanks and praise for our merciful escape, and with full hearts we commended ourselves to God’s good keeping for the time to come.
All hands then briskly fell to the work of unloading, and, oh, how rich we felt ourselves as we did so! The poultry we left at liberty to forage for themselves, and set about finding a suitable place to erect a tent in which to pass the night. This we speedily did; thrusting a long spar into a hole in the rock, and supporting the other end by a pole firmly planted in the ground, we formed a framework over which we stretched the sailcloth we had brought; besides fastening this down with pegs, we placed our heavy chests and boxes on the border of the canvas, and arranged hooks so as to be able to close up the entrance during the night.
When this was accomplished, the boys ran to collect moss and grass, to spread in the tent for our beds, while I arranged a fireplace with some large flat stones, near the brook which flowed close by. Dry twigs and seaweed were soon in a blaze on the hearth, I filled the iron pot with water, and giving my wife several cakes of the portable soup, she established herself as our cook, with little Franz to help her.
He, thinking his mother was melting some glue for carpentry, was eager to know ‘what papa was going to make next?’
‘This is to be soup for your dinner, my child. Do you think these cakes look like glue?’
‘Yes, indeed I do!’ replied Franz. ‘And I should not much like to taste glue soup! Don’t you want some beef or mutton, mamma?’
‘Where can I get it, dear?’ said she, ‘we are a long way from a butcher’s shop! But these cakes are made of the juice of good meat, boiled till it becomes a strong stiff jelly – people take them when they go to sea, because on a long voyage they can only have salt meat, which will not make nice soup.’
Fritz meanwhile leaving a loaded gun with me, took another himself, and went along the rough coast to see what lay beyond the stream; this fatiguing sort of walk not suiting Ernest’s fancy, he sauntered down to the beach, and Jack scrambled among the rocks searching for shellfish.
I was anxious to land the two casks which were floating alongside our boat, but on attempting to do so, I found that I could not get them up the bank on which we had landed, and was therefore obliged to look for a more convenient spot. As I did so, I was startled by hearing Jack shouting for help, as though in great danger. He was at some distance, and I hurried towards him with a hatchet in my hand. The little fellow stood screaming in a deep pool, and as I approached, I saw that a huge lobster had caught his leg in its powerful claw. Poor Jack was in a terrible fright; kick as he would, his enemy still clung on. I waded into the water, and seizing the lobster firmly by the back, managed to make it loosen its hold, and we brought it safe to land. Jack, having speedily recovered his spirits, and anxious to take such a prize to his mother, caught the lobster in both hands, but instantly received such a severe blow from its tail, that he flung it down, and passionately hit the creature with a large stone. This display of temper vexed me. ‘You are acting in a very childish way, my son,’ said I. ‘Never strike an enemy in a revengeful spirit.’ Once more lifting the lobster, Jack ran triumphantly towards the tent.
‘Mother, mother! A lobster! A lobster, Ernest! Look here, Franz! Mind, he’ll bite you! Where’s Fritz?’ All came crowding round Jack and his prize, wondering at its unusual size, and Ernest wanted his mother to make lobster soup directly, by adding it to what she was now boiling.
She, however, begged to decline making any such experiment, and said she preferred cooking one dish at a time. Having remarked that the scene of Jack’s adventure afforded a convenient place for getting my casks on shore, I returned thither and succeeded in drawing them up on the beach, where I set them on end, and for the present left them.
On my return I resumed the subject of Jack’s lobster, and told him he should have the offending claw all to himself when it was ready to be eaten, congratulating him on being the first to discover anything useful.
‘As to that,’ said Ernest, ‘I found something very good to eat, as well as Jack, only I could not get at them without wetting my feet.’
‘Pooh!’ cried Jack, ‘I know what he saw – nothing but some nasty mussels – I saw them too. Who wants to eat trash like that! Lobster for me!’
‘I believe them to be oysters, not mussels,’ returned Ernest calmly.
‘Be good enough, my philosophical young friend, to fetch a few specimens of these oysters in time for our next meal,’ said I. ‘We must all exert ourselves, Ernest, for the common good, and pray never let me hear you object to wetting your feet. See how quickly the sun has dried Jack and me.’
‘I can bring some salt at the same time,’ said Ernest, ‘I remarked a good deal lying in the crevices of the rocks; it tasted very pure and good, and I concluded it was produced by the evaporation of sea water in the sun.’
‘Extremely probable, learned sir,’ cried I, ‘but if you had brought a bag full of this good salt instead of merely speculating so profoundly on the subject, it would have been more to the purpose. Run and fetch some directly.’
It proved to be salt sure enough, although so impure that it seemed useless, till my wife dissolved and strained it, when it became fit to put in the soup.
‘Why not use the sea-water itself?’ asked Jack.
‘Because,’ said Ernest, ‘it is not only salt, but bitter too. Just try it.’
‘Now,’ said my wife, tasting the soup with the stick with which she had been stirring it, ‘dinner is ready, but where can Fritz be?’ she continued, a little anxiously.
‘How are we to eat our soup when he does come?’ I asked. ‘We have neither plates nor spoons, and we can scarcely lift the boiling pot to our mouths. We are in as uncomfortable a position as was the fox to whom the stork served up a dinner in a jug with a long neck.’
‘Oh, for a few coconut shells!’ sighed Ernest.
‘Oh, for half a dozen plates and as many silver spoons!’ rejoined I, smiling.
‘Really though, oyster-shells would do,’ said he, after a moment’s thought.
‘True, that is an idea worth having! Off with you, my boys, get the oysters and clean out a few shells. What though our spoons have no handles, and we do burn our fingers a little in baling the soup out.’
Jack was away and up to his knees in the water in a moment detaching the oysters. Ernest followed more leisurely, and still unwilling to wet his feet, stood by the margin of the pool and gathered in his handkerchief the oysters his brother threw him; as he thus stood he picked up and pocketed a large mussel shell for his own use. As they returned with a good supply we heard a shout from Fritz in the distance; we returned it joyfully, and he presently appeared before us, his hands behind his back, and a look of disappointment upon his countenance.
‘Unsuccessful!’ said he.
‘Really!’ I replied. ‘Never mind, my boy, better luck next time.’
‘Oh, Fritz!’ exclaimed his brothers who had looked behind him. ‘A sucking-pig, a little sucking-pig. Where did you get it? How did you shoot it? Do let us see it!’
Fritz then with sparkling eyes exhibited his prize.
‘I am glad to see the result of your prowess, my boy,’ said I; ‘but I cannot approve of deceit, even as a joke; stick to the truth in jest and earnest.’
Fritz then told us how he had been to the other side of the stream. ‘So different from this,’ he said, ‘it is really a beautiful country, and the shore, which runs down to the sea in a gentle slope, is covered with all sorts of useful things from the wreck. Do let us go and collect them. And, father, why should we not return to the wreck and bring off some of the animals? Just think of what value the cow would be to us, and what a pity it would be to lose her. Let us get her on shore, and we will move over the stream, where she will have good pasturage, and we shall be in the shade instead of on this desert, and, father, I do wish –’
‘Stop, stop, my boy!’ cried I. ‘All will be done in good time. Tomorrow and the day after will bring work of their own. And tell me, did you see no traces of our ship-mates?’
‘Not a sign of them, either on land or sea, living or dead,’ he replied.
‘But the sucking-pig,’ said Jack, ‘where did you get it?’
‘It was one of several,’ said Fritz, ‘which I found on the shore; most curious animals they are, they hopped rather than walked, and every now and then would squat down on their hind legs and rub their snouts with their fore-paws. Had not I been afraid of losing them all, I would have tried to catch one alive, they seemed so tame.’
Meanwhile, Ernest had been carefully examining the animal in question.
‘This is no pig,’ he said, ‘and except for its bristly skin, does not look like one. See its teeth are not like those of a pig, but rather those of a squirrel. In fact,’ he continued, looking at Fritz, ‘your sucking-pig is an agouti.’
‘Dear me,’ said Fritz, ‘listen to the great professor lecturing! He is going to prove that a pig is not a pig!’
‘You need not be so quick to laugh at your brother,’ said I, in my turn, ‘he is quite right. I, too, know the agouti by descriptions and pictures, and there is little doubt that this is a specimen. The little animal is a native of North America, where it makes its nest under the roots of trees, and lives upon fruit. But, Ernest, the agouti not only looks something like a pig, but most decidedly grunts like a porker.’
While we were thus talking, Jack had been vainly endeavouring to open an oyster with his large knife. ‘Here is a simpler way,’ said I, placing an oyster on the fire; it immediately opened. ‘Now,’ I continued, ‘who will try this delicacy?’ All at first hesitated to partake of them, so unattractive did they appear. Jack, however, tightly closing his eyes and making a face as though about to take medicine, gulped one down. We followed his example, one after the other, each doing so rather to provide himself with a spoon than with any hope of cultivating a taste for oysters.
Our spoons were now ready, and gathering round the pot we dipped them in, not, however, without sundry scalded fingers. Ernest then drew from his pocket the large shell he had procured for his own use, and scooping up a good quantity of soup he put it down to cool, smiling at his own foresight.
‘Prudence should be exercised for others,’ I remarked, ‘your cool soup will do capitally for the dogs, my boy; take it to them, and then come and eat like the rest of us.’
Ernest winced at this, but silently taking up his shell he placed it on the ground before the hungry dogs, who lapped up its contents in a moment; he then returned, and we all went merrily on with our dinner. While we were thus busily employed, we suddenly discovered that our dogs, not satisfied with their mouthful of soup, had espied the agouti, and were rapidly devouring it. Fritz seizing his gun flew to rescue it from their hungry jaws, and before I could prevent him, struck one of them with such force that his gun was bent. The poor beasts ran off howling, followed by a shower of stones from Fritz, who shouted and yelled at them so fiercely, that his mother was actually terrified. I followed him, and as soon as he would listen to me, represented to him how despicable as well as wicked was such an outbreak of temper. ‘For,’ said I, ‘you have hurt, if not actually wounded, the dogs; you have distressed and terrified your mother, and spoiled your gun.’
Though Fritz’s passion was easily aroused it never lasted long, and speedily recovering himself, immediately he entreated his mother’s pardon, and expressed his sorrow for his fault.
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.’
