The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert IslandWyss, Johann David
General
The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert Island
Wyss, Johann David
Family life -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Survival -- Fiction
Early next morning we were astir, and dispersed to our various
occupations. My wife milked the goats and cow, while we gave the animals
their food, after which we went down to the beach to collect more wood
for our building operations. To the larger beams we harnessed the cow
and ass, while we ourselves dragged up the remainder. Fritz and I then
ascended the tree, and finished the preparations I had begun the night
before; all useless boughs we lopped off, leaving a few about six feet
from the floor, from which we might sling our hammocks, and others still
higher, to support a temporary roof of sailcloth. My wife made fast the
planks to a rope passed through the block I had fixed to the boughs
above us, and by this means Fritz and I hauled them up. These we
arranged side by side on the foundation of boughs, so as to form a
smooth solid floor, and round this platform built a bulwark of planks,
and then throwing the sailcloth over the higher branches, we drew it
down and firmly nailed it.
Our house was thus enclosed on three sides, for behind the great trunk
protected us, while the front was left open to admit the fresh sea
breeze which blew directly in. We then hauled up our hammocks and
bedding and slung them from the branches we had left for that purpose. A
few hours of daylight still remaining, we cleared the floor of leaves
and chips, and then descended to fashion a table and a few benches from
the remainder of the wood. After working like slaves all day, Fritz and
I flung ourselves on the grass, while my wife arranged supper on the
table we had made.
"Come," said she at length, "come and taste flamingo stew, and tell me
how you like it. Ernest assured me that it would be much better stewed
than roasted, and I have been following his directions."
Laughing at the idea of Ernest turning scientific cook, we sat down. The
fowls gathered round us to pick up the crumbs, and the tame flamingo
joined them, while Master Knips skipped about from one to the other,
chattering and mimicking our gestures continually. To my wife's joy, the
sow appeared shortly after, and was presented with all the milk that
remained from the day's stock that she might be persuaded to return
every night.
"For," said my wife, "this surplus milk is really of no use to us, as
it will be sour before the morning in this hot climate."
"You are quite right," I replied, "but we must contrive to make it of
use. The next time Fritz and I return to the wreck we will bring off a
churn among the other things we require."
"Must you really go again to that dreadful wreck?" said my wife
shuddering. "You have no idea how anxious I am when you are away there."
"Go we must, I am afraid," I replied, "but not for a day or two yet.
Come, it is getting late. We and the chickens must go to roost."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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