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
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. We, however, I determined, 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 cajack. 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 moment the brave boy was on board, and in 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," he replied, 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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