Swiss Family Robinson

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

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 c**k, 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 to-day.'

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, and this place seems perfectly safe. Fritz and I will go alone this time, with one of the dogs, leaving the other to defend you. Fritz, prepare the guns, and tie up Flora so that she will not follow us.'

At the word `guns' the poor boy blushed shamefully. He tried in vain to straighten his weapon. I left him alone for a short time, but at length I gave him leave to take another, perceiving with pleasure that the vexation had produced a proper feeling in his mind.

A moment later he tried to lay hold of Flora to tie her up, but the dog, recollecting the blows she had so lately received, began to snarl and would not go near him. Turk behaved the same, and I found it necessary to call with my own voice to induce them to approach us. Fritz then, in tears, entreated some biscuit of his mother, declaring that he would rather go without the rest of his breakfast to make his peace with the dogs. He accordingly carried them some biscuit, stroked and caressed them, and in every motion seemed to ask their pardon. As of all animals, without excepting man, the dog is least addicted to revenge, and at the same time is the most sensible of kind usage, Flora instantly relented and began to lick the hands which fed her; but Turk, who was of a more fierce and independent temper, still held off, and seemed to lack confidence in Fritz's advances.

`Give him a claw of my lobster,' cried Jack, `for I meant to give it to you anyway, for your journey.'

With that treat, Turk seemed ready to forgive Fritz. We then armed ourselves, each taking a g*n 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.

`Stop!' I exclaimed, `we have still left something very important undone.'

`Surely not,' said Fritz.

`Yes,' said I, `we have not yet joined in morning prayer. We are only too ready, amid the cares and pleasures of this life, to forget the God to whom we owe all things.' Then having commended ourselves to his protecting care, I took leave of my wife and children, and bidding them not wander far from the boat and tent, we parted not without some anxiety on either side, for we knew not what might assail us in this unknown region.

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 were much alarmed on hearing behind us a rustling, and on looking round, we saw the grass waving to and fro, as if some animal were passing through it. Fritz instantly turned and brought his g*n 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. I did not fail to commend both the bravery and the discretion of my son, in not yielding to even a rational alarm, and for waiting until he was sure of the object before he resolved to fire.

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 seashore. 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.'

`But father, while we are wandering here and losing our time almost without a hope of benefit to them, why should we not instead return to the vessel and save the animals on board?'

`When a variety of duties present themselves for our choice, we should always give the preference to that which can confer the most solid advantage,' I replied. `The saving of the life of a man is a more exalted action than contributing to the comfort of a few quadrupeds, whom we have already supplied with food for a few days. Also, the sea is so calm at present that we need not fear that the ship will sink or break up entirely before we can return.'

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 small round object 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 cocoanut. Do you not remember reading that a cocoanut is enclosed within a round, fibrous covering over a hard shell, which again is surrounded by a bulky green hull? In the one you hold in your hand, the outer hull has been destroyed by time, which is the reason that the twisted fibers of the inner covering are so apparent. Let us now break the shell, and you will see the nut inside.'

Not without difficulty, we split open the nut, but, to our disgust, found the kernel dry and uneatable.

`Hullo,' cried Fritz, `I always thought a cocoanut 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 cocoanuts 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. It was a little oily and rancid, but this was not the time to be too particular. 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.

* In this book, 'dinner' refers to the midday meal.

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 seashore 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 if 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.'