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
"Come here, boys," I said; "here is something of far more value than
your pine-apples. Do you see that plant with long pointed leaves and
beautiful red flower? That is the karatas. The filaments of the leaves
make capital thread, while the leaves themselves, bruised, form an
invaluable salve. The pith of this wonderful plant may be used either
for tinder or bait for fish. Suppose, Ernest, you had been wrecked here,
how would you have made a fire without matches, or flint and steel?"
"As the savages do," replied he; "I would rub two pieces of wood
together until they kindled."
"Try it," I said; "but, if you please, try it when you have a whole day
before you, and no other work to be done, for I am certain it would be
night before you accomplished the feat. But see here," and I broke a dry
twig from the karatas, and peeling off the bark, laid the pith upon a
stone. I struck a couple of pebbles over it, and they emitting a spark,
the pith caught fire.
The boys were delighted with the experiment. I then drew some of the
threads from the leaves, and presented them to my wife.
"But what," said Fritz, "is the use of all these other prickly plants,
except to annoy one? Here, for instance, is a disagreeable little tree."
"That is an Indian fig," said I. "It grows best on dry, rocky ground;
for most of its nourishment is derived from the air. Its juice is used,
I believe, medicinally, while its fruit is pleasant and wholesome."
Master Jack was off in a moment when he heard of a new delicacy, and
attempted to gather some of the fruit, but in vain; the sharp thorns
defied his efforts, and with bleeding hands, and rueful countenance, he
returned. I removed the thorns from his hands, and making a sharp wooden
skewer, I thrust it into a fig, and quickly twisted it from its branch
and split it open with a knife, still holding it upon the skewer. The
rest followed my example, and we regaled ourselves upon the fruit, which
we found excellent. Ernest carefully examined the fig he was eating.
"What are these," he exclaimed presently; "little red insects! they
cling all over the fruit, and I cannot shake them off. Can they be
cochineal?"
He handed me the fig, and I examined it attentively.
"You are quite right, my boy," I said; "there is no doubt this is the
real cochineal. However, though it is worth its weight in gold to
European traders, it is of little use to us, I am afraid, unless any of
you care to appear in gay colors. The cochineal, you know, forms the
most lovely scarlet dye."
"No, thank you," said Jack, "but we will take a lot of it when we go
home again. Now let us find something more useful to us." And they
thereupon plied me incessantly with questions concerning every plant and
shrub we passed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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