The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert IslandWyss, Johann David
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The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert Island
Wyss, Johann David
Family life -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Survival -- Fiction
I tasted a piece. This was a cavern of rock salt. There was no doubt
about it--here was an unlimited supply of the best and purest salt! But
one thing detracted from my entire satisfaction and delight--large
crystals lay scattered here and there, which, detached from the roof,
had fallen to the ground; this, if apt to recur, would keep us in
constant peril. I examined some of the masses and discovered that they
had been all recently separated, and therefore concluded that the
concussion of the air occasioned by the rockets had caused their fall.
To satisfy ourselves, however, that there were no more pieces tottering
above us, we discharged our guns from the entrance, and watched the
effect. Nothing more fell--our magnificent abode was safe.
We returned to Falconhurst with minds full of wonder at our new
discovery, and plans for turning it to the best possible advantage.
Nothing was now talked of but the new house, how it should be arranged,
how it should be fitted up. The safety and comfort of Falconhurst, which
had at first seemed so great, now dwindled away in our opinion to
nothing; it should be kept up, we decided, merely as a summer residence,
while our cave should be formed into a winter house and impregnable
castle. Our attention was now fully occupied with this new house. Light
and air were to be admitted, so we hewed a row of windows in the rock,
where we fitted the window cases we had brought from the officers'
cabins. We brought the door, too, from Falconhurst, and fitted it in the
aperture we had made. The opening in the trunk of the tree I determined
to conceal with bark, as less likely to attract the notice of wild
beasts or savages should they approach during our absence. The cave
itself we divided into four parts: in front, a large compartment into
which the door opened, subdivided into our sitting, eating, and sleeping
apartments; the righthand division containing our kitchen and workshop,
and the left our stables; behind all this, in the dark recesses of the
cave, was our storehouse and powder-magazine. Having already undergone
one rainy season, we knew well its discomforts, and thought of many
useful arrangements in the laying out of our dwelling. We did not intend
to be again smoke-dried; we therefore contrived a properly built fire
place and chimney; our stable arrangements, too, were better, and plenty
of space was left in our workshop that we should not be hampered in even
the most extensive operations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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