The Swiss family Robinson
plains, dotted over with clumps of towering palms; little lakes
surrounded with osiers, upon the borders of which sported herds of
elephants; thick tufts of cactus of all sorts, loaded with flowers
and fruits, which the enormous rhinoceros seemed to devour without
paying any attention to the thorns; beautiful clumps of the mimosa,
the high tops of which the towering giraffe devoured with as much
facility as a goat would a small shrub.
“On I sailed, and, once more seduced by the picturesque appearance
of a river which lost itself in a tranquil bay, I resolved to
ascend it. The water slipped gently under the prow of my little
cajack--nothing appeared to indicate any danger; there were no
serpents on the bank, no horrid beasts in the forests, and I floated
tranquilly on, enjoying the fresh breeze and the cool shade of the
overhanging trees, when suddenly there appeared before me a long
throat, armed with rows of strong sharp teeth; it was distended to
its full capacity as if it would take in at one mouthful myself,
the cajack, and the oars. I instantly comprehended the extent of my
danger, and, seizing one of the oars, I drove it with all my strength
direct into the yawning mouth of the monster, who disappeared in
an instant, leaving a long trace of blood behind him, showing that
the wound I had made was of some importance. I did not remain long
on this river; two other monsters of the same nature as the first
rose up to the surface of the water. They were alligators, the most
terrible kind among these animals, but whose tremendous voracity is
happily balanced by a natural laziness, which retains them always
near the spot where they were born. I had escaped from one danger
only to fall into another. At a little distance from the River of
Alligators, while coasting along a little wood, I observed that the
trees were loaded with the rarest and most beautiful of birds, among
which were lyras, paroquets, humming-birds, and birds of paradise--in
one word, a complete assemblage of all that array of beautiful
plumage which decorates the forests of the New World, and I could
not resist the desire of attacking them. I landed, attached my cajack
to the bank and walked up to the wood, holding my eagle unhooded in
my hand. I cast him off, and he returned with a superb paroquet,
whose flame-coloured feathers sparkled in the sun’s rays. While I was
occupied in examining him, I heard behind me a light rustling on the
sand, which I thought was merely caused by a little land-turtle, or
some such animal, and I turned carelessly round. It was well I did
so; for not twelve paces from me there was a splendid royal tiger
with open mouth, crouched down as if about to spring upon me. I stood
as if struck with stupor; a mist came over my eyes, and scarcely
could I raise my gun, so much had horror paralysed my strength, when
suddenly my brave eagle, comprehending my danger, flew boldly at the
advancing tiger, and began to pick at his eyes. This timely succour
saved me; for it enabled me to collect my senses, and levelling my
gun, I discharged its contents into the right flank of my enemy, and
then two pistol-balls lodged in the throat completed my victory. The
tiger lay dead; but alas! my victory had cost me dear, for my poor
eagle fell at the same time with his conquered enemy, who had seized
him in his claws and had torn him in pieces. I picked him up, weeping
bitterly over my loss, and carried him to the cajack, hoping some day
to have him stuffed and placed in our museum.
“I quitted the shore with a sorrowing mind, and again I prayed to
my heavenly Father that He would give me strength to continue my
voyage. I doubled a little cape, and, suddenly, from the summit of
the grey rocks which bordered the coast, I perceived a light cloud of
smoke rising in the air. I turned my canoe in the direction of the
long-sought-for signal. The irregularities of the rocks along the
coast were the only difficulties I had to encounter, and it appeared
to me that I should never get through them. At last I landed, and,
with infinite difficulty, scrambled up the rocks until I arrived
at a platform on which I perceived a human creature. At the noise
which I made in approaching, the individual, who was arranging the
fire, rose, perceived me, uttered a cry of surprise and joy, then,
joining his hands, stood still, as if waiting for me to speak.
Notwithstanding the midshipman’s dress she wore, her exclamation,
and the delicate contour of her features, convinced me that I was
in the presence of a female. I stopped about ten paces from her,
and calling to my memory all I knew of English, I said in a subdued
tone, ‘I am the liberator whom God has sent you. I have received
the message of the albatross.’ I must have pronounced these words
very badly, as Emily did not at first comprehend them; I repeated
them, however, and after a few moments we understood each other
well enough to make a mutual interchange of our feelings. Gestures,
looks, accents all filled up the blank that words had left vacant.
I spoke to my new sister about the castle of Felsenheim, Falcon’s
Nest, our shipwreck, and ten years’ sojourn on the coast, where we
lived in almost European luxury; on her part, she recounted to me the
history of her childhood, her shipwreck, and existence on the Island
of the Smoking Rock, making a fine story for my papa to write out
in the long winter evenings. Emily graciously invited me to supper,
after which we passed the remainder of the night, I in my cajack,
she in the branches of a tree, where she always slept from the fear
of wild beasts. The next morning we again met. Emily had already
prepared breakfast, which consisted of fruit and broiled fish. The
repast being over, the sea looked so calm that I thought we had
better start; so, after packing up all her curiosities, and putting
them on board the cajack, we took our seats and set off. We sailed
on a long time; but an accident happened to my little barque, and
I was obliged to put in at the little island which you have called
‘Good Rencounter,’ in memory of our meeting; it was there I left my
new-found sister, who, doubtful of her reception in a strange family,
begged me to go on and ask permission of my father to bring her among
them. I consented; and my canoe having been repaired, I took the
well-known route home: it was then that I encountered you, and from
fear that you were pirates, I disguised myself, and played you such a
trick.”
“Oh! I am so sorry it is done,” cried Jack, as Fritz finished his
story; “but you must now tell us the history of our sister.”
Fritz was about to commence a new narration, of greater interest than
the former, but I stopped him, and advised him to take a little rest
before he talked any more.
CHAPTER LX
Emily’s own Story--Return to Felsenheim with
Military Honours--The Winter Season
Once More
The story of Fritz had detained us longer than I had anticipated,
as upon looking at my watch, I discovered that it was midnight. The
audience were not at all sleepy, however, but as we had to execute
labours on the morrow, which would require strength and agility, I
thought that if they sat up all night they would be over-wearied the
next day; I therefore deemed it necessary to cut short the narration,
deferring its completion till a more convenient time. This decision
was received with a very bad grace; but it was positive, so each
one sought his accustomed resting-place, either on shore or in the
pinnace.
The next morning, when all the family were assembled for breakfast,
the enterprise and courage of Fritz became the subject of
conversation; this naturally brought on the story of last night, and
I was obliged to consent that Emily’s history should open the day. I
wanted the dear girl herself to tell it; but she was so timid, though
at the same time so lively, busied in her domestic occupations, that
I could do nothing with her. Fritz was therefore entreated to act as
her proxy, and resume his recital.
“As soon as I was able to understand my new sister,” said he, “I
asked her by what course of events she had been thrown on the desert
coast where I now found her.
“She told me that she was born in India, of English parents, and
that her father, after having served as major in a British regiment,
obtained the command of an important English colony. The commandant,
Montrose, for that was the name of Emily’s father, had the misfortune
to lose his wife only three years after his marriage; and, profoundly
afflicted by this loss, all his affections centred in their only
child. He took charge of her education, and devoted all the time he
could spare from his official duties, in developing the precious
qualities which nature had endowed his dear daughter with. Not
content with providing her with every means for mental improvement,
he endeavoured to make her a strong, healthy woman, capable of facing
and resisting danger. Such was Emily’s education up to the age of
sixteen; she managed a fowling-piece as well as a needle, and rode
as gracefully and firmly as the best cavalry officer, and shone
resplendent in her father’s brilliant saloons.
“Major Montrose, having been appointed colonel, was ordered to return
with part of his regiment to England. This circumstance forced him to
separate himself from his daughter, as naval discipline did not allow
women on board a line-of-battle ship in time of war. It was arranged,
however, that she should sail the same day that he did, in another
ship, the captain of which was an old friend of her father’s, and who
would take every care of his daughter. The voyage at its commencement
was prosperous and agreeable, but before many days a terrible tempest
arose. The ship was thrown off her course, and a furious wind drove
her down upon our rocky coast; two shallops were launched upon the
angry waves, and a chance of safety offered to the shipwrecked. Emily
found a place in the smallest--the captain was in the other. The
storm continuing, the boats were soon separated, and the one that
contained Emily was broken in pieces, and the poor girl alone, of all
the crew, was fortunate enough to escape death. The waves carried
her, half fainting, to the foot of the rock where I discovered her.
She crawled under the shade of a projecting rock, and, sinking on
the sand, slept for four-and-twenty hours. There she passed several
days, abandoned to dark despair, with no nourishment but some birds’
eggs, which she found on the rocks. At the end of that time, the sun
reappearing and the sea growing calm, the poor castaway thought of
the crew in the large shallop and, in the hope that they might see
her, she resolved to establish signals of distress. As she wore a
midshipman’s uniform on board ship, by order of her father, she had
a box in her pocket containing a flint, knife, and other articles.
She picked up some pieces of wood which the sea had thrown on the
sand, carried them to the summit of the rock, and there kindled a
fire, which she never allowed to go out. You can easily imagine how
drearily passed the first days of Emily’s exile; she had to contend
against all the horrors of hunger and the desert. How thankful she
felt for the semi-masculine education that her father had given her:
it had endowed her with courage and resolution far beyond her sex.
She comprehended the whole extent of her situation, and turning to
heaven, she placed her trust in God and hoped on. She built a hut,
fished, hunted, tamed birds--among others a cormorant, which she
taught to catch fish--in one word, she lived alone, with no earthly
succour, for three long dreary years.”
Fritz stopped; his eyes fell upon the heroine of his story, who could