Johann David Wyss: Swiss Family Robinson

The mother and Franz, though somewhat startled by the unexpected absence of Fritz, were delighted to see us return safely and listened with eager interest to our adventures.

Tears came into Franz’s eyes when he heard of the sad death of poor old Juno. And he inquired most tenderly whether her remains had been brought back, that they might be interred near the house which had been her home for so many years.

Next day he saw her buried carefully; and Ernest, at his request, produced an epitaph, which was inscribed upon a slab of stone above her grave:

Five days passed, but Fritz still remained absent. I could not conceal my anxiety, and at length determined to follow him. All were delighted at the proposal, and even the mother, when she heard that we were to sail in the pinnace, agreed to accompany us.

The boat was stored, and on a bright morning, with a favorable breeze, we five, with the dogs, stepped aboard, and ran for Cape Minster.

Our beautiful little yacht bounded over the water gaily, and the bright sunshine and delicious sea breeze put us all in the highest spirits. The entrance of the archway was in sight, and thither I was directing the boat’s course. Suddenly, right ahead, I saw a dark and shadowy mass just below the surface of the water. “A sunken rock!” I thought to myself. “And yet it is strange that I never before noticed it.” I put down the helm in a moment, but a catastrophe seemed inevitable.

We surged ahead! A slight shock, and all was over! The danger was passed!

I glanced astern, to look again at the dangerous spot.

The rock was gone, and, where but a moment before I had distinctly seen its great green shadow I could nothing. Before we had recovered from our amazement, a shout from Jack surprised me. “There is another,” he exclaimed “to starboard father!”

Sure enough, there lay, apparently, another sunken rock.

“The rock is moving!” shouted Franz. A great black body emerged from the sea, while from the upper extremity rushed a column of water, which, with a mighty noise, rose upward, and then fell like rain all around. The mystery was explained; for, as the great beast emerged yet farther from the water, I recognized, from its enormous size and great length of head, the cachalot whale.

The monster was apparently enraged at the way we had scratched his back; for, retreating to a short distance, he evidently meditated a rush upon us.

Fearful stories occurred to me of the savage temper of this whale, how he has been known to destroy boat after boat, and even ships, and with a feeling of desperation I sprang to one of the guns. Jack leaped to the other, and almost simultaneously we fired. Both shots apparently took effect; for the whale, after lashing the water violently for a few seconds, plunged beneath its surface and disappeared.

We kept a sharp lookout for him, for I was unwilling to lose such a valuable prize, and, reloading, stood toward the shore, in which direction he was apparently making. Presently we again sighted him in shallow water, lashing fearfully with his tail and dyeing the waves around him with blood. Approaching the infuriate animal as nearly as I dared, we again fired.

The struggles of the whale seemed for a few moments to become even yet more frantic, and then, with a quiver from head to tail, he lay motionless—dead!

The boys were about to raise the cry of victory, but checked the shout upon their very lips; for darting behind a rock they espied a canoe paddled by a tall and muscular savage, who now stood up in his skiff and appeared to be examining us attentively.

Seeing that we were standing toward him, the swarthy native seized his paddle and again darted behind a rock. An awful thought now took possession of me. There must be a tribe of blacks lurking on these shores, and Fritz must have fallen into their hands. I determined, however, that we should not be easily taken; and our guns were loaded and run out.

Presently a dusky face appeared, peeping at us from a lofty rock. It vanished, and we saw another peeping at us from lower down. Then, again, the skiff put out as though to make a further reconnoiter. All, even Jack, looked anxious, and glanced at me for orders.

“Hoist a white flag,” said I, “and hand me the speaking trumpet.”

I seized the instrument and uttered such peaceable words in the Malay language as I could recall. Neither the flag nor my words seemed to produce any effect, and the savage was about to return to the shore.

Jack hereupon lost patience, and in his turn took up the trumpet.

“Come here, you black son of a gun,” he exclaimed. “Come on board and make friends, or we’ll blow you and your—”

“Stop! Stop! You foolish boy,” I said, “you will but alarm the man, with your wild words and gestures.”

“No! But, see,” he cried, “he is paddling toward us!”

And sure enough the canoe was rapidly approaching.

Presently a cry from Franz alarmed me. “Look! Look!” he shrieked. “The villain is in Fritz’s kayak. I can see the walrus head.”

Ernest alone remained unmoved. He took the speaking trumpet:

“Fritz, ahoy!” he shouted. “Welcome, old fellow!”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I, too, recognized the well-known face beneath its dusky disguise.

In another minute the brave boy was on board, and in c spite of his blackened face was kissed and welcomed heartily. He was now assailed with a storm of questions from all sides: “Where had he been?” “What had kept him so long, and why had he turned blackamoor?”

“The last question,” replied he, with a smile, “is the only one I will now answer. The others shall be explained when I give a full account of my adventures. Hearing guns fired, my mind was instantly filled with ideas of Malay pirates, for I never dreamed that you could be here in the yacht, so I disguised myself as you now see me, and came forth to reconnoiter. When you addressed me in Malay you only added to my terror, for it left not a doubt in my mind that you were pirates.”

Having in our turn described to him our adventure with the cachalot whale, I asked him if he knew of a suitable spot for the anchorage of the yacht.

“Certainly,” he replied, casting toward me a glance full of meaning. “I can lead you to an island where there is a splendid anchorage, and which is itself well worth seeing, for it contains all sorts of strange things.” And after removing the stains from his skin, and turning himself once more into a civilized being, he again sprang into his canoe and piloted us to a picturesque little island in the bay.

Now that there could be no doubt as to the success of Fritz’s expedition, I no longer hesitated to give to my wife an account of his project, and to prepare her mind for the surprise which awaited her. She was greatly startled, as I expected, and seemed almost overcome with emotion at the idea of seeing a human being, and that being one of her own sex.

“But why,” she asked, “did you not tell me of this at first? Why wait until the last moment with such joyful news?”

“I was unwilling,” I replied, “to raise hopes which might never be realized. But now, thank Heaven, he has succeeded, and there is no need for concealment.”

The boys could not at all understand the evident air of mystery and suppressed excitement which neither their mother, Fritz, nor I could entirely conceal. They cast glances of the greatest curiosity toward the island, and as soon as the sails were furled and the anchor dropped, they sprang eagerly ashore. In a body we followed Fritz, maintaining perfect silence.

Presently we emerged from the thicket through which we were passing, and saw before us a hut of sheltering boughs, at the entrance of which burned a cheerful fire.

Into this leafy bower Fritz dived, leaving his brothers without, mute with astonishment. In another moment he emerged leading by the hand a slight, handsome youth, by his dress apparently a young English naval officer. The pair advanced to meet us; and Fritz, with a countenance radiant with joy, briefly introduced his companion as “Edward Montrose.”

“And,” he continued, looking at his mother and me, “will you not welcome him as a friend and a brother to our family circle?”

“That will we, indeed!” I exclaimed, advancing and holding out my hands to the fair young stranger. “Our wild life may have roughened our looks and manners, but it has not hardened our hearts, I trust.”

The mother, too, embraced the seeming youth most heartily. The lads, and even the dogs, were not behindhand in testifying their gratification at the appearance of their new friend—the former delighted at the idea of a fresh companion, and the latter won by her sweet voice and appearance.

From the expression made use of by Fritz I perceived that the girl wished her sex to remain unrevealed to the rest of the party until the mother could obtain for her a costume more suited to her real character.

The young men then ran down to the yacht to bring up what was necessary for supper, as well as to make preparations for a camp in which we might spend the night. This done the mother hastened to set before us a substantial meal, while the boys, anxious to make their new acquaintance feel at home among them, were doing their best to amuse her.

She herself, after the first feeling of strangeness had worn off, entered fully into all their fun; and by the time they sat down to supper was laughing and chattering as gaily as any one of the rest. She admired the various dishes, tasted our mead, and, without alluding once to her previous life, kept up a lively conversation.

The mere fact of meeting with any human being after so many years of isolation was in itself sufficient to raise the boys to the greatest state of excitement. But that this being should be one so handsome, so gay, so perfectly charming, seemed completely to have turned their heads. And when I gave the sign for breaking up the feast, and their new friend was about to be led to the night quarters which had been prepared for her on board the yacht, the health of Edward Montrose was proposed, and was drunk in fragrant mead, amid the cheers and acclamations of all hands.

When she had gone, and silence restored, Jack exclaimed:

“Now, then, Fritz, if you please, just tell me where you came across this jolly fellow. Did you take your mysterious voyage in search of him or did you meet him by chance? Out with your adventures, while we sit comfortably round the fire.”

So saying, Jack cast more wood upon the blazing pile, and throwing himself down in his usual, careless fashion, prepared to listen attentively.

Fritz, after a few moments’ hesitation, began:

“Perhaps you remember,” said he, “how, when I returned from my expedition in the kayak the other day, I struck down an albatross. None but my father at the time knew, however, what became of the wounded bird, or even thought more about it. Yet it was that albatross which brought me notice of the shipwrecked stranger and he, too, I determined, should carry back a message, to cheer and encourage the sender.

“I first, as you know, prepared my kayak to carry two persons; and then, with a heart full of hope and trust, left you and the yacht, and, with Pounce seated before me, made for the open sea. For several hours I paddled steadily on, till, the wind freshening, I thought it advisable to keep in nearer shore; that, should a regular storm arise, I might find some sheltered bay in which to weather it.

“I passed the night in my kayak. Next morning, after a frugal meal of pemmican, and a draught of water from my flask, I once more ventured forth. Keeping my eyes busily employed in seeking in every direction to detect, if possible, the slightest trace of smoke, or other sign of human life, I paddled on till noon.

“The aspect of the coast now began to change. The shores were sandy, while farther inland lay dense forests, from whose gloomy depths I could ever and anon hear the fierce roar of beasts of prey, the yell of apes, the fiendish laugh of the hyena, or the despairing death cry of a hapless deer. Seldom have I experienced a greater feeling of solitude than while listening to these strange sounds, and knowing that I, in this frail canoe, was the only human being near.

“For some hours after this I paddled quickly on, sometimes passing the mouth of a stream, sometimes that of a broad river. Had I been merely on an exploring expedition, I should have been tempted, doubtless, w cruise a little way up one of these pathways into the forest, but now such an idea did not enter my head. On, on, on, I felt I must go, until I should reach the goal of my voyage.

“The shades of night at length drew on, and, finding a sheltered cove, I moored my kayak and stepped on shore. You may imagine how pleasant it was to stretch my legs, after sitting for so long in the cramped position which my kayak enforces. It would not do, however, to sleep on shore; so after preparing and enjoying my supper, I returned on board, and there spent the night.

“Next morning Pounce and I again landed for breakfast. I lit my fire, and hung before it a plump young parrot to roast. As I was so doing I heard a slight rustle among the long grass behind me. I glanced round, and there, with glaring eyes and his great tail swaying to and fro, I saw an immense tiger.

“In another moment his spring would have been made. I should have been no more, and our young guest would have been doomed to, God only knows how many, years of frightful solitude!

“My gun was lying by my side. Before I could have stooped to pick it up, the monster would have seized me.

“Pounce saw and comprehended my danger: the heroic bird darted upon my enemy, and so blinded him with his flapping wings, and the fierce blows of his beak that his spring was checked and I had time to recover my self-possession. I seized my gun, and fired; and the brute, pierced to the heart, gave one spring, and then rolled over at my feet.

“My enemy was dead; but beside him, alas! lay poor Pounce, crushed and lifeless. One blow of the great beast’s paw had struck him down, never to rise again!”

Fritz’s voice shook as he came to this point; and, after remaining silent for a moment or two, he continued hurriedly:

“With a sad and desolate feeling at my heart I buried the faithful bird where he had met his death. And then, unable longer to continue near the spot, I returned to my kayak, and leaving the great tiger Iying where he fell, paddled hastily away.

“My thoughts were gloomy. I felt as though, now that my companion was gone, I could no longer continue the voyage. The albatross, I thought, may have flown for hundreds of miles before it reached me. This stranger may be on different shores from these entirely. Every stroke of my paddle may be carrying me farther from the blazing signal: who knows?

“This feeling of discouragement was not, however, to be of long duration. In a moment more a sight presented itself which banished all my doubts and fears, and raised me to the highest pitch of excitement.

“A high point of land lay before me. I rounded it, and beyond found a calm and pleasant bay, from whose curved and thickly wooded shores ran out a reef of rocks. From the point of this reef rose a column of smoke, steadily and clearly curling upward in the calm air. I could scarcely believe my senses, but stopped to gaze at it, as though I were in a dream. Then, with throbbing pulse and giddy brain, I seized my paddle, and strained every nerve to reach it.

“A few strokes seemed to carry me across the bay, and, securing my canoe, I leaped upon the rock on which the beacon was blazing, but not a sign of a human being could I see. I was about to shout, for as the fire had evidently been recently piled up, I knew the stranger could not be far off. But before I could do so I saw a slight figure passing along the chain of rocks toward the spot on which I stood. You may all imagine my sensations.

“I advanced a few paces; and then mastering my emotion as best I could, I said in English:

“‘Welcome, fair stranger! God, in His mercy, has heard your call and has sent me to your aid!’

“Miss Montrose came quickly forward—”

“Who? What?” shouted the boys, interrupting the narrative. “Who came forward?” Amid a general hubbub Ernest, rising and advancing to his brother, said in his quiet way:

“I did not like to make any remark till you actually let out the secret, Fritz, but we need no longer pretend not to see through the disguise of Edward Montrose.”