Swiss Family Robinson - Johann David Wyss (poetry books to read txt) 📗

wife, too, begged me

to find some substitute for the threads of our cotton neckties*, which

I had previously used as wicks.

 

* Not what we today call neckties, but rather a soft band of

cloth worn loosely around the neck and used as a sweatband,

to keep sweat and dirt from lodging in the neckband of the

shirt. A collar at this time was a separate piece of cloth,

buttoned on and worn only for at least semi-formal

occasions.

 

To give the proper shape and smoothness to the candles, I determined to

use the bamboo moulds I had prepared. My first idea was to pour the wax

in at the end of the mould, and then when the candles were cooled to

slip them out; but I was soon convinced that this plan would not

succeed.

 

I therefore determined to divide the moulds lengthways, and then,

having greased them well, we might pour the melted wax into the two

halves bound tightly together, and so be able to take out the candles

when cool without injuring them.

 

The wicks were my next difficulty, and as my wife positively refused to

allow us to devote our ties and handkerchiefs for the purpose, I took a

piece of inflammable wood from a tree, a native of the Antilles, which

I thought would serve our purpose; this I cut into long slips, and

fixed in the centres of the moulds. My wife, too, prepared some wicks

from the fibres of the karata tree, which she declared would beat mine

completely out of the field.

 

We put them to the proof. On a large fire we placed a pot, in which we

prepared our wax mixture—half bees’ wax and half wax from the

candleberries. The moulds carefully prepared—half with karata fibre,

and half with wooden splint wicks—stood on their ends in a tub of cold

water, ready to receive the wax.

 

They were filled; the wax cooled; the candles taken out and subjected

to the criticism of all hands. When night drew on, they were formally

tested. The decision was unanimous: neither gave such a good light as

those with the cotton wicks; but even my wife declared that the light

from mine was far preferable to that emitted by hers, for the former,

though rather flaring, burned brilliantly, while the latter gave out

such a feeble and flickering flame that it was almost useless.

 

I then turned shoemaker, for I had promised myself a pair of

waterproof boots, and now determined to make them.

 

Taking a pair of socks, I filled them with sand, and then coated them

over with a thin layer of clay to form a convenient mould; this was

soon hardened in the sun, and was ready for use. Layer after layer of

caoutchouc I brushed over it, allowing each layer to dry before the

next was put on, until at length I considered that the shoes were of

sufficient thickness. I dried them, broke out the clay, secured with

nails a strip of buffalo-hide to the soles, brushed that over with

caoutchouc, and I had a pair of comfortable, durable,

respectable-looking waterproof boots.

 

I was delighted; orders poured in from all sides, and soon everyone in

the family was likewise provided for.

 

One objection to Falconhurst was the absence of any spring close by, so

that the boys were obliged to bring water daily from the stream; and

this involving no little trouble, it was proposed that we should carry

the water by pipes from the stream to our present residence. A dam had

to be thrown across the river some way up stream, that the water might

be raised to a sufficient height to run to Falconhurst. From the

reservoir thus made we led the water down by pipes into the turtle’s

shell, which we placed near our dwelling, and from which the

superfluous water flowed off through the hole made in it by Fritz’s

harpoon.

 

This was an immense convenience, and we formally inaugurated the

trough by washing therein a whole sack of potatoes. Thus day after day

brought its own work, and day after day saw that work completed. We had

no time to be idle, or to lament our separation from our fellow

creatures.

 

One morning, as we were completing our spiral staircase, and giving it

such finish as we were capable of, we were suddenly alarmed by hearing

a most terrific noise, the roaring or bellowing of a wild beast; so

strange a sound was it, that I could not imagine by what animal it was

uttered.

 

Jack thought it perhaps a lion, Fritz hazarded a gorilla, while Ernest

gave it as his opinion, and I thought it possible that he was right,

that it was a hyaena.

 

`Whatever it is,’ said I, `we must prepare to receive it; up with you

all to the nest while I secure the door.’

 

Then arming the dogs with their collars, I sent them out to protect the

animals below, closed the door, and joined my family.

 

Every gun was loaded, every eye was upon the watch. The sound drew

nearer, and then all was still; nothing was to be seen. I determined to

descend and reconnoitre, and Fritz and I carefully crept down; with our

guns at full cock we glided amongst the trees; noiselessly and quickly

we pushed on further and further; suddenly, close by, we heard the

terrific sound again. Fritz raised his gun, but almost as quickly again

dropped it, and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

 

There was no mistaking those dulcet tones—hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw,

resounded through the forest, and our ass braying his approach right

merrily appeared in sight. To our surprise, however, our friend was not

alone: behind him trotted another animal, an ass no doubt, but slim and

graceful as a horse. We watched their movements anxiously.

 

`Fritz,’ I whispered, `that is an onager. Creep back to Falconhurst and

bring me a piece of cord—quietly now!’

 

While he was gone, I cut a bamboo and split it halfway down to form a

pair of pincers, which I knew would be of use to me should I get near

the animal. Fritz soon returned with the cord, and I was glad to

observe also brought some oats and salt. We made one end of the cord

fast to a tree, and at the other end made a running noose. Silently we

watched the animals as they approached, quietly browsing; Fritz then

rose, holding in one hand the noose, and in the other some oats and

salt.

 

The ass, seeing his favourite food thus held out, advanced to take it;

Fritz allowed him to do so, and he was soon munching contentedly. The

stranger, on seeing Fritz, started back; but finding her companion show

no signs of alarm, was reassured, and soon approached sniffing, and was

about to take some of the tempting food.

 

In a moment the noose left Fritz’s adroit hand and fell round her

neck; with a single bound she sprang backwards the full length of the

cord, the noose drew tight, and she fell to the earth half strangled. I

at once ran up, loosened the rope and replaced it by a halter; and

placing the pincers upon her nose, secured her by two cords fastened

between two trees, and then left her to recover herself.

 

Everyone hastened up to examine the beautiful animal as she rose from

the ground and cast fiery glances around. She lashed out with her heels

on every side; and, giving vent to angry snorts, struggled violently to

get free. All her endeavours were vain: the cords were stout, and after

a while she quieted down and stood exhausted and quivering.

 

I then approached: she suffered me to lead her to the roots of our

tree, which for the present formed our stables, and there I tied her up

close to the donkey, who was likewise prevented from playing truant.

 

Next morning I found the onager after her night’s rest as wild as

ever, and as I looked at the handsome creature I almost despaired of

ever taming her proud spirit. Every expedient was tried, and at length,

when the animal was subdued by hunger, I thought I might venture to

mount her; and having given her the strongest curb and shackled her

feet, I attempted to do so. She was as unruly as ever, and as a last

expedient I resolved to adopt a plan which, though cruel, was I knew

attended with wonderful success by the American Indians, by whom it is

practised.

 

Watching a favourable opportunity, I sprang upon the onager’s back, and

seizing her long ear in my teeth, in spite of her kicking and plunging,

bit it through. The result was marvellous, the animal ceased plunging,

and, quivering violently, stood stock-still.

 

From that moment we were her masters, the children mounted her one

after the other, and she carried them obediently and quietly. Proud,

indeed, did I feel as I watched this animal, which naturalists and

travellers have declared to be beyond the power of man to tame, guided

hither and thither by my youngest son.

 

Additions to our poultry yard reminded me of the necessity of

providing some substantial shelter for our animals before the rainy

season came on; three broods of chickens had been successfully hatched,

and the little creatures, forty in all, were my wife’s pride and

delight.

 

We began by making a roof over the vaulted roots of our tree, forming

the framework of bamboo canes which we laid close together and bound

tightly down; others we fixed below as supports. The interstices were

filled up with clay and moss; and coating the whole over with a mixture

of tar and lime-water, we obtained a firm balcony, and a capital roof

impervious to the severest fall of rain. I ran a light rail round the

balcony to give it a more ornamental appearance, and below divided the

building into several compartments. Stables, poultry yard, hay and

provision lofts, dairy, kitchen, larder and dining-hall were united

under one roof.

 

Our winter-quarters were now completed, and we had but to store them

with food. Day after day we worked, bringing in provisions of every

description.

 

As we were one evening returning from gathering potatoes, it struck me

that we should take in a store of acorns; and sending the two younger

boys home with their mother and the cart, I took a large canvas bag,

and with Fritz and Ernest, the former mounted on his onager, and the

latter carrying his little favourite, Knips, made a detour towards the

Acorn Wood.

 

We reached the spot, tied Lightfoot to a neighbouring tree, and began

rapidly to fill the sack. As we were thus engaged, Knips sprang

suddenly into a bush close by, from which, a moment afterwards, issued

such strange cries that Ernest followed to see what could be the

matter.

 

`Come!’ he shouted, `Come and help me! I’ve got a couple of birds and

their eggs. Quick! Ruffed grouse!’

 

We hurried to the spot. There was Ernest with a fluttering, screaming

bird in either hand; while, with his foot, he was endeavouring to

prevent his greedy little monkey from seizing the eggs. We quickly tied

the legs of the birds, and removing the eggs from the nest, placed them

in Ernest’s hat; while he gathered some of the long, broad grass, with

which the nest was woven, and which grew luxuriantly around, for Franz

to play at sword-drill with.

 

We then loaded the onager with the acorns and moved homewards. The eggs

I covered carefully with dry moss, that they might be kept warm, and as

soon as possible I handed them over to my wife who managed the