The Swiss family Robinson
hardly conceal her embarrassment.
“My child,” said I, “you are but another proof that God never
withholds His aid from those who desire it. That which you have done
for three years a poor Swiss family have done for ten, and heavenly
aid has never been withheld from them.”
I allowed some little time for commentaries on Emily’s history;
but, as I had resolved that the day should be an active one, I soon
gave the signal for work. The manufacture of lime had succeeded. I
submitted some pieces to the proof of water, and found it excellent.
Toward evening the pinnace was laden with all that we could carry
away, and we talked seriously of returning to Felsenheim. The
poetic description we had given concerning the salt grotto, and
our aërial palace at Falcon’s Nest, had rendered Emily exceedingly
curious to judge for herself concerning all these wonders. The next
day we weighed anchor just as dawn was breaking; the sail of the
pinnace fluttered gaily in the fresh breeze, and Fritz’s cajack,
containing himself and Francis, went before us as pilots. When we
hove in sight of Prospect Hill, I proposed to stop and take a look
at the farmhouse; but Fritz and his brother asked permission of me
to go on home, so that they could have all things prepared for us. I
consented, and they set out.
From Prospect Hill we sailed to Shark Island, where we secured, in
passing, a fine quantity of the soft wool of the Angora rabbits. From
Shark Island we directed our course toward Felsenheim, and we could
just distinguish it when a salute of ten guns greeted our ears. This
produced a very good effect, doctor Ernest only regretting that the
salute was not composed of an odd number of guns. “An even number,”
said he, “is entirely contrary to general usage.”
We returned the polite salute of our two artillerymen by a salvo of
eleven guns, the execution of which was undertaken and performed
by Jack and Ernest in a style that would have done honour to a
practised cannoneer. Soon after we saw Fritz and Francis coming
toward us in their canoe; they received us at the entrance of the
bay, and followed us to the shore. They landed before us, and the
moment Emily’s foot touched the sand, a hurrah resounded through the
air, and Fritz, springing forward, presented her his hand, like a
gallant cavalier, and led her up to the portico of the grotto. There
a new spectacle awaited us: a table was spread in the middle of the
gallery, and loaded with all the fruits that the country produced.
Bananas, figs, guavas, oranges, rose up in perfumed heaps upon flat
calabashes. All the vases, cocoa-nut cups and ostrich-eggs mounted on
turned wooden pedestals, urns of painted porcelain, all were filled
with hydromel and milk; while a large dish of fried fish, and a huge
roast turkey, stuffed with truffles, formed the solid part of the
repast. A double festoon of flowers surrounded the canopy above the
table, sustaining a large medallion on which was inscribed, “Welcome,
fair Emily Montrose!” It was a complete holiday, and as pompous a
reception as our means would allow. Emily sat down to table between
my wife and myself; Ernest and Jack also took their places; while the
two caterers of the feast, each with a napkin on his arm, did the
honours of the table.
We passed from the table to the interior of the grotto, and our young
companion had the apartment next ours for her use. She could not
restrain her admiration at the effects our industry had accomplished;
she was astonished that a man and four children could have effected
so much. The chateau in the tree at Falcon’s Nest next received a
visit; it had fallen into decay, from neglect, and we passed a whole
week in fitting it up. We then set out for Waldegg to gather our rice
and other grains, for the season was advancing, and some violent
showers already warned us to hasten our preparations for the coming
winter. Emily gave proof, during these labours, of an intelligence
and good will which rendered her assistance very valuable; and she
inspired everybody with such zeal and industry, that when the winter
set in we were all prepared for it. Ten years had accustomed us to
the terrible winters, and we calmly listened to the wind and storm as
it raged furiously without. We had reserved for the winter several
sedentary occupations, in which our new companion proved her skill
and industry; she excelled in weaving and plaiting straw, osiers,
etc.; and, under her direction, we made some light straw hats for
summer, some elegant baskets, and conveniently arranged game-bags.
My wife was delighted with her adopted daughter, and Ernest found
a companion, whose fine education rendered her a conversable and
intelligent woman. In fact, Emily had become to my wife and myself a
fifth child, and a beloved sister for my sons.
CHAPTER LXI
Conclusion
It is with a thousand different sensations that I write the word
_conclusion_. It recalls to my mind all that has passed. God is good!
God is merciful! is the reigning sentiment in my heart: I have so
many reasons for heartfelt gratitude to a gracious Providence, that I
hope the reader will pardon me for the disorder in which I finish my
story.
It was toward the end of the rainy season, the wind had lost its
violence, and a patch of blue sky could now and then be seen; our
pigeons had quitted the dove-cot, and we ourselves ventured to open
the door of the grotto, and taste the fresh air.
Our first care was for our gardens, which had suffered injury; we
took account of the damage as well as we were able, and then set out
for our more distant possessions. Fritz and Jack proposed to make an
excursion to Shark Island, to inspect our fort and colony there. I
consented, and they set off in the cajack.
My sons, on their arrival, having examined the interior of the fort,
and assured themselves that nothing of importance was damaged, began
to look round and see if anything appeared on the horizon, but all
was blank. Wishing to see whether the cannons were in good order,
they began firing away, as if they had all the powder in the world
at their command. But what was their astonishment and emotion when,
a moment after, they heard distinctly three reports of a cannon in
the distance! They could not be mistaken, for a faint light toward
the east preceded each report. After a short consultation as to what
should be done, the two brothers resolved to hasten home and recount
their adventure to us.
We had heard the reports of the cannons they had fired, and we could
not imagine why they were hurrying back so fast. I called out, as
loud as I could, “Halloo, there! what is the matter?” On they came,
and, jumping on shore, fell into my arms, faintly articulating, “Oh,
papa, papa, did you not hear them?”
“Hear what?” said I. “We have heard nothing but the noise your waste
of powder made.”
“You have not heard three other reports in the distance?”
“No.”
“Why, we heard them plainly and distinctly.”
“It was the echo,” said Ernest.
This remark nettled Jack a little, and he replied rather sharply--
“No, Mr. Doctor, it wasn’t the echo; I think I have fired cannons
enough in my lifetime to know whether that was an echo or not. We
distinctly heard three reports of a cannon, and we are certain that
some ship is sailing in this part of the world.”
“If there is really a ship on our coasts,” said I, “who knows whether
it is manned by Europeans or by Malay pirates--who knows whether
we ought to rejoice or be sorry at its presence, and that, instead
of preparing for deliverance, we should not make preparations for
defence?”
My first resolution was to organize a system of defence, and provide
for our safety. We watched alternately under the gallery of the
grotto, so that we could be ready in case of surprise; but the night
passed quietly away, and in the morning the rain commenced, and
continued so violently during two long days that it was impossible
for us to go out.
On the third day the sun reappeared. Fritz and Jack, full of
impatience, resolved to return to Shark Island, and try a new signal.
I consented; but, instead of the cajack, we took the canoe, and I
went with them. On arriving at the fort we hoisted our flag, while
Jack, ever impatient, loaded a cannon and fired it; but scarcely had
the report died away in the distance, when we distinctly heard a
louder answering report in the direction of Cape Disappointment.
Jack could not contain himself for joy. “Men, men,” cried he, dancing
about us; “men, papa; are you sure of it now?” And his enthusiasm
communicating itself to us, we hoisted another and a larger flag on
our flag-staff. Six other reports followed the first one we had heard.
Overpowered with emotion, we hastened to our boat, and were soon in
the presence of the family. They had not heard the seven reports, but
they had seen our two flags flying, and they were eagerly waiting for
circumstantial news.
I ordered that everything in the grotto should be put in a place
of safety. My three youngest sons, my wife and Emily, set off for
Falcon’s Nest with our cattle, and I embarked in the cajack with
Fritz, to reconnoitre. It was near midday when we set out; we
coasted along without discovering anything, and the illusion of the
moment began to dissipate. On more calm reflection, however, the
certainty that we had heard the seven reports of the cannon kept up
our courage; when suddenly, on doubling a little promontory which
had hitherto concealed it from us, we beheld a fine European ship
majestically reposing at anchor, with a long-boat at the side, and an
English flag floating at the masthead.
I seek in vain to find words that will express the sentiments which
filled our souls. We elevated our hands and eyes toward heaven, and
thus returned our thanks to God for His great beneficence. If I
had permitted it, Fritz would have thrown himself into the sea and
swum off to the ship; but I was afraid that, notwithstanding the
English flag, the vessel before us might be a Malay corsair, which
had assumed false colours in order to deceive other vessels. We
remained at a distance, not liking to venture nearer without being
more certain what it was. We could see all that was passing on board
the vessel. Two tents had been raised on the shore, tables were laid
for dinner, quarters of meat were roasting before blazing fires, men
were running to and fro, and the whole scene had the appearance of an
organized encampment. Two sentinels were on the deck of the vessel,
and when they perceived us they spoke to the officer on duty who
stood near, and who turned his telescope toward us.
“They are Europeans,” cried Fritz; “you can easily judge from the
face of the officer. Malays certainly would be more dusky than that.”
Fritz’s remark was true; but yet I did not like to go too near. We
remained in the bay, manœuvring our canoe with all the dexterity of
which we were capable. We sang a Swiss mountain song, and when we
had finished I cried out through my speaking-trumpet these three
words, _Englishmen, good men!_ But no answer was returned: our song,
our cajack, and more than all our costume, I expect, marked us for
savages, from the officer making signs to us to approach, and holding
up knives, scissors, and glass beads, for which the savages of the
New World are generally so desirous. This mistake made us laugh; but
we did not approach, as we wished to present ourselves before them
in better trim. We contented ourselves with exclaiming once more,
_Englishmen_, and then darted off as fast as our boat could carry us.
We passed a whole day in preparing the pinnace, and loading it with
presents for the captain, as we wished him to see that those whom