The Swiss family Robinson
Falcon’s Nest with one of our young cavaliers mounted on his back.
The artificial nest of ostrich eggs, which we had enveloped in
cotton, and placed in a stove, had succeeded; that is to say,
out of six eggs, three had hatched. The young ostriches were the
drollest-looking animals that could be imagined: they looked like
ducks, mounted on long legs, and they tottered awkwardly about on
their slender stilts. One died the day after its birth; the two
others survived, and we endeavoured to preserve them by taking all
possible care for their comfort. Maize, acorns, boiled rice, milk,
and cassava, were set before them in rich profusion.
We had had nothing to drink but water since our arrival on the
island, if I except the barrel of Cape wine that we had saved from
the shipwreck; but that had long ago been exhausted, and I now
determined to make some sort of drink for the winter.
I had often heard of the hydromel of the Russians; we had the primary
material, honey, from our hives, and I determined to make the
experiment. We boiled some honey in a sufficient quantity of water,
and after having filled two barrels with the fluid, I threw in a
large cake of sour corn bread, to make the liquor ferment; when that
process was finished, we tasted it, and found it was of a pleasant
flavour, agreeably acid, and a great resource for our long winter
days. We placed the two tuns in our cellar, or, to speak more justly,
in the hole we had dignified by that name. We then set to work and
made a choicer drink than the first: to our honey and water we added
nutmegs, ravensara, and, in short, a collection of all the aromatic
plants we could find. This drink was reserved for extraordinary
occasions, such as holiday banquets, anniversaries, etc.
When all our provisions were gathered in, and we felt sure that
we could get through the winter without famine overtaking us, we
commenced our manufacture of hats. It was a labour as difficult as
novel for us. The first question that presented itself was the form
of our hats; each one gave in his opinion, but necessity came into
the council, and obliged us to give our new manufacture the form most
in unison with our means of execution. It was extremely simple: I cut
a wooden head, which divided into two parts, and on which we spread
a thick layer of soft paste, composed of rat-skin and the glue of
fishes. We let it dry, and as it took the exact impress of the mould,
we obtained a sort of cap, of which my readers can form some idea of
the shape.
It had cost us a great deal of trouble to produce even this
ill-looking affair. My sons were scarcely less satisfied with it than
I was; but our European hats were so dilapidated that it became a
matter of necessity to procure something to replace them.
I now had recourse to the cochineal, and I soon gave to our beaver a
beautiful brilliant purple tint. The hat looked better; I adorned it
with a couple of ostrich-plumes, and it looked better still; my wife
passed a ribbon round it, which she had found in her enchanted sack,
and the disdain with which my poor beaver had been received, was
changed into anxious requests for its possession.
But its destination had been fixed beforehand: it belonged to Francis
by right, as he had lost his old hat a few days before.
Our success in the manufacture of hats emboldened us to try our hand
at other things. We were much in want of kitchen utensils, and I was
obliged to pass from the art of hat-making to that of potter.
I did not understand much about pottery; and what puzzled me most was
the way in which the earth was to be prepared before using it; and I
began my experiments with very little hope of their ever succeeding.
I constructed, in one corner of the grotto, a large stove, divided
into compartments, destined to receive the different articles;
earthen pipes were conducted all around, so as to equalize the heat
as much as possible. These preparations occupied me a long time, as
I had no idea how the thing should be done, and I can safely say I
invented rather than imitated a furnace for pottery.
I next took a certain quantity of the porcelain earth, which very
much resembled fine white sand. I carefully removed all foreign
particles, such as bits of stone, etc., as I was afraid they would
cut our hands while working the porcelain. I also mixed a quantity
of the talc we had brought home for window-panes, thinking, perhaps,
it would render the mixture more firm and solid. When all was well
worked up together, I left it a little while to dry, while I set
to work to invent a machine for turning our utensils on. The wheel
of one of our cannon carriages, fixed horizontally on a pivot and
surmounted by another wheel, united to it by an axle and turning with
it, formed my machine. I first turned out some plates and dishes,
cups and saucers, bowls, and other things. I exposed these articles
to a very strong heat: a great many broke in pieces, but I completed
about half. When baked they were perfectly transparent and of the
most beautiful grain. My wife saw her kitchen apparatus enriched with
utensils of all sorts, and, overwhelmed with joy, she promised us,
in exchange, numberless good dainties, which, for want of a suitable
utensil, she had hitherto been unable to make.
CHAPTER XLIX
Return of the Rainy Season--A New
Want--The Cajack
The rainy season was now rapidly approaching, and we were soon
obliged to give up our excursions. The winds and the rain commenced;
the sky that had so long been clear became dark with storm-clouds;
terrible tempests announced the approach of winter; and we closed the
door of our grotto, happy in having such a comfortable shelter.
The turning-wheel was continually in motion. We improved the quality
of our fabrications more and more, and we manufactured utensils that
at the outset we had despaired of ever possessing.
We had preserved the shells of the ostrich-eggs, and having divided
them by means of a string steeped in vinegar, we converted the halves
into elegant vases. I turned some wooden pedestals on which they were
placed, and we thus obtained drinking-cups and vases for flowers in
summer.
But these labours were much more interesting to me than to my young
family, and I feared that the inactivity to which I saw them reduced
would render them indolent. Ernest found occupation enough in his
books; but his brothers never entered the library unless when driven
by necessity. I felt the urgency of providing some active occupation
for them, and one more to their taste than literature; but I could
not think of anything, when Fritz came to my assistance.
“We have,” said he, “in the person of our ostrich, a splendid
post-horse, with which to travel the highways of our kingdom; we have
carts to transport our provisions; a pinnace, and a canoe, which are
riding majestically at anchor in Safety Bay; but one thing is yet
wanting: we have need of an equipage that will glide over the surface
of the water, as the ostrich does over the sand. I have read that
the Greenlanders have a sort of vessel which they call ‘cajack,’ and
which I must have. Why cannot we construct one? We have constructed a
canoe--why should we, civilized Europeans, not succeed in that which
barbarous savages have attempted?”
I joyfully received the proposition of my son. The cajack, the only
vessel of the Greenlander, is a sort of canoe in the form of a shell;
and a piece of walrus-skin, with three or four strips of whalebone,
are almost the only requisites for its construction. It is extremely
light, and the navigator who has glided in it over the surface of the
wave can easily carry it on his shoulder when he has arrived at land.
The strips of whalebone, bamboo-cane, and Spanish rushes, with some
sea-dog skin, were the materials that we employed in making our
cajack. Two arched strips of whalebone fastened at each end, and
separated in the middle by a piece of bamboo fixed transversely
across, formed the two sides of our canoe; other pieces of whalebone,
woven in with rushes and moss, well covered with pitch, formed the
skeleton.
When the skeleton was finished, and the interior covered with a coat
of gum and moss, we commenced the construction of an envelope. For
this I took the two entire skins of sea-calves, fastened one at each
end of the canoe, and then drew them down under it, where they were
strongly sewed together, and covered with a gum elastic coat, to
render them impervious to water. I also cut out oars of bamboo, and
fastened bladders to one end, so that they might be useful in case of
accident. I also constructed, in the bow, a place to receive a sail,
in case we should decide, at a future period, to put one there.
There was yet an important thing wanting in the completion of our
Greenland boat: it was the equipment of him who was to manage it. I
had often heard of a sort of apparel well known to those who dwell
near the sea, and which consisted in enveloping a person in an
airtight dress, lighter than the volume of liquid his body displaced.
I described this apparel to my sons, narrated to them how the head
of the swimmer was covered with a hood, furnished with a pipe
intended to let in air when it was necessary to breathe under water.
My description of the costume and the air-chimney fairly turned
the boys’ heads, and they would not rest, night or day, until they
persuaded me to ask their mother to construct such a suit for them.
My good Elizabeth, to whom our desires were as laws, kindly undertook
the work; and so nimbly did her needle ply, that in a few days she
had made a complete swimming-costume for Fritz.
A jacket of the skin of the whale’s entrails, hermetically sealed and
sewed round the borders, so that the air could not possibly escape,
was furnished with a flexible pipe, closed with a valve, so that it
could be inflated or exhausted at the pleasure of its wearer.
The winter had glided insensibly away: reading, the study of
languages, and other literary pursuits had been mingled with our
domestic avocations, and helped to render the gloomy days we passed
in the grotto more pleasant and agreeable. But our emancipation
from the grotto was approaching: the wind calmed, the sea resumed
its wonted placidity, the grass sprang up under our feet, and we
revisited Falcon’s Nest, with its giant trees and its rich harvest of
springing grain.
The swimming-costume was the last thing that we had made, and Fritz
was anxious to make a trial of it; consequently, one fine afternoon,
dinner over, he put on his jacket, which was drawn close round his
neck; then his hood, with its pipe for air, was fitted to the jacket,
and two pieces of talc inserted in such a manner as to enable him to
see.
Our first movement, on seeing him thus accoutred, was to burst into a
fit of laughter; but Fritz plunged gravely into the water, and struck
out for Shark Island. We followed him in the canoe, and arrived about
the same time. We unfastened his hood, and found that not a particle
of water had penetrated it; every one was rejoiced at the success of
the experiment, and we all persuaded our kind mother to make us one
each.
We then set off to explore the island, and endeavour to discover what
had become of the colony we had planted there. Our first visit was to
the antelopes. They fled at our approach; but we saw with pleasure
that they had devoured all the provisions we had provided them
with. We strewed some rushes in their little hut, for a litter; and
after renewing the stock of provisions, left the spot, so that the
timid animals could return. My sons and I wandered over the island,