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
"There he will find glue, to be sure," said I, "and the soup would
scarcely have answered your purpose. But Jack, my boy, I do not like to
hear you ridicule your little brother's ideas. Some of the most valuable
discoveries have been the result of thoughts which originally appeared
no wiser than his."
While thus directing and assisting my sons, we were surprised by hearing
a shot just over our heads; at the same moment two small birds fell dead
at our feet, and looking up, we beheld Ernest among the branches, as
bending his face joyfully toward us, he cried, "Well hit! well hit! a
good shot, wasn't it?"
Then slipping down the ladder, and picking up the birds, he brought them
to me. One was a kind of thrush, the other a small dove called the
ortolan, and esteemed a very great delicacy on account of its exquisite
flavor. As the figs on which these birds came to feed were only just
beginning to ripen, it was probable that they would soon flock in
numbers to our trees; and by waiting until we could procure them in
large quantities, we might provide ourselves with valuable food for the
rainy season, by placing them, when half cooked, in cases with melted
lard or butter poured over them.
By this time Jack had pointed a good supply of arrows, and industriously
practiced archery. I finished the bow and arrows for Franz, and expected
to be left in peace; but the young man next demanded a quiver, and I had
to invent that also, to complete his equipment. It was easily done by
stripping a piece of bark from a small tree, fitting a flat side and a
bottom to it, and then a string. Attaching it to his shoulders, the
youthful hunter filled it with arrows and went off; looking, as his
mother said, like an innocent little Cupid, bent on conquest.
Not long after this, we were summoned to dinner, and all right willingly
obeyed the call.
During the meal I interested the boys very much by proposing to decide
on suitable names for the different spots we had visited on this coast.
"For," said I, "it will become more and more troublesome to explain what
we mean, unless we do so. Beside which, we shall feel much more at home
if we can talk as people do in inhabited countries: instead of saying,
for instance, 'the little island at the mouth of our bay, where we found
the dead shark,' 'the large stream near our tent, across which we made
the bridge,' 'that wood where we found cocoanuts, and caught the
monkey,' and so on. Let us begin by naming the bay in which we landed.
What shall we call it?"
"Oyster Bay," said Fritz.
"No, no!--Lobster Bay," cried Jack, "in memory of the old fellow who
took a fancy to my leg!"
"I think," observed his mother, "that, in token of gratitude for our
escape, we should call it Safety Bay."
This name met with general approbation, and was forthwith fixed upon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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