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
My heart sank as I looked round upon my family in the midst of these
horrors. Our four young sons were overpowered by terror. "Dear
children," said I, "if the Lord will, he can save us even from this
fearful peril; if not, let us calmly yield our lives into his hand, and
think of the joy and blessedness of finding ourselves forever and ever
united in that happy home above."
At these words my weeping wife looked bravely up, and, as the boys
clustered round her, she began to cheer and encourage them with calm and
loving words. I rejoiced to see her fortitude, though my heart was ready
to break as I gazed on my dear ones.
We knelt down together, one after another praying with deep earnestness
and emotion. Fritz, in particular, besought help and deliverance for his
dear parents and brothers, as though quite forgetting himself.
Our hearts were soothed by the never-failing comfort of child-like,
confiding prayer, and the horror of our situation seemed less
overwhelming. "Ah," thought I, "the Lord will hear our prayer! He will
help us."
Amid the roar of the thundering waves I suddenly heard the cry of "Land,
land!" while at the same instant the ship struck with a frightful shock,
which threw everyone to the deck, and seemed to threaten her immediate
destruction.
Dreadful sounds betokened the breaking up of the ship, and the roaring
waters poured in on all sides.
Then the voice of the captain was heard above the tumult, shouting,
"Lower away the boats! We are lost!"
"Lost!" I exclaimed, and the word went like a dagger to my heart; but
seeing my children's terror renewed, I composed myself, calling out
cheerfully, "Take courage, my boys! we are all above water yet. There is
the land not far off; let us do our best to reach it. You know God helps
those that help themselves!" With that, I left them and went on deck.
What was my horror when through the foam and spray I beheld the only
remaining boat leave the ship, the last of the seamen spring into her
and push off, regardless of my cries and entreaties that we might be
allowed to share their slender chance of preserving their lives. My
voice was drowned in the howling of the blast; and even had the crew
wished it, the return of the boat was impossible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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