CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.

_A bathing, a fishing, the jumping hare, and a masquerade._

As soon as Ernest and I had dined, we prepared for our departure.

Fritz presented each with one of the best cases of his own

workmanship, which we stuck through our belts, and which, in

reality, were ingeniously contrived for holding spoons and knives and

forks, while room was left in the middle for a little hatchet. I

praised Fritz for having thus brought his idea to perfection, and for

contriving to make two cases with his skin instead of one. He

had used the skin of the two fore-legs of the animal for one,

and of the two hind legs for the other, and reserved the place

in the middle, for the hatchet. Ernest showed a warmth of gratitude

for his share in the benefit, of which I had not thought him

capable.

We now set about harnessing the ass and cow to our sledge; each

took a piece of bamboo-cane in hand, to serve as a whip; and

resting our guns upon our shoulders, we began our journey. Ponto

was to accompany us, and Turk to remain behind. We bade adieu

to our companions, and put our animals in motion. We took the

road by the sea-shore, where the sands afforded better travelling

for our vehicle, than the thick wild grass. We reached Family

Bridge, on Jackall’s River, and arrived at Tent House, without

either obstacle or adventure. We immediately unharnessed the

animals to let them graze, while we set to work to load the sledge,

with the cask of butter, the cask of cheese, a small barrel of

gunpowder, different instruments, some ball, some shot, and Turk’s

coat of mail. These exertions had so occupied our thoughts, that

it was late when we first observed that our animals, attracted

by the excellent quality of the grass on the other side of the

river, had repassed the bridge, and wandered so far as to be

out of sight. I was in hopes they would be easily found, and

I directed Ernest to go with Ponto and bring them back, intending

in the mean time to look for a convenient place, on the other

side of Tent House, to bathe in. In a short time I found myself

at the extremity of Providence Bay, and which ended, as I now

perceived, in a marsh, producing the finest bulrushes it was

possible to imagine; and further on, a chain of steep rocks,

advancing somewhat into the sea, and forming a kind of creek,

as if expressly contrived for bathing. The juttings of the rock

even seemed like little separate cabinets, where one might be

concealed from one’s companions. Enchanted with this discovery,

I called out to Ernest to come and join me, and in the mean time,

I amused myself with cutting some of the rushes, and imagining

what use I could apply them to. Ernest neither replied nor came:

so, after waiting a little, I resolved to go in pursuit of him,

for I was unable to refrain from some uneasy sensations at his

absence. Looking about in all directions, I at length discovered

him at a distance, extended at his length on the ground, in the

shade produced by Tent House. I approached him with a beating

heart, fearing he might have been attacked by some wild beast;

and was agreeably surprised at finding him in a sound and quiet

sleep, while the ass and the cow were eating the grass close

to the place where he lay.

Come, come, young traveller, you must awake, cried I, shaking

him: while you are sleeping here, your animals may once more

make their escape. He instantly awoke starting, and was soon

on his feet. Oh! but I defy them to escape across the bridge,

said he, rubbing his eyes; for I have taken away some of the

planks, and left a space which they will have no great inclination

to jump over.

_Father._—Since your idle fit has rendered you inventive, I forgive

it with all my heart; but is it not a pity to lose in sleeping

the opportunity of doing something useful? Did you not promise

your mother to carry her some salt? Slothfulness is always a

fault, where labour is a necessity.

_Ernest._—But, father, my head was not idle, I assure you. I

was planning something all the time.

_Father._—Really, Ernest! Why, this is quite a novelty, for a

boy of your age. Pray tell me what important and profound study

it was, which made you go to sleep.

_Ernest._—I will tell you. I was thinking, deeply, how difficult

it would be to bring away from the vessel every thing which it

contains.

_Father._—And did you hit upon some method for removing the

difficulty?

_Ernest._—No, father, no great things; I fell asleep in the middle

of my reflections.

_Father._—So, this is the hard work your poor head was engaged

in!—Discovering a difficulty, and finding no means for conquering

it!

_Ernest._—At this very moment an idea strikes me.—We ought to

have a large raft; but the beams of the ship are too heavy for

the purpose: I think it would be better to take a number of the

empty casks, and nail some planks upon them to keep them all

together. I have read that the savages of America fill the skins

of goats with air, tie them to each other, and are thus enabled

to use them as rafts upon the largest rivers.

_Father._—This is a sound idea, and one day or other we may perhaps

derive advantage from it: but for the present, my boy, we must

make up for lost time: run, therefore, and fill this little bag

with salt, which you will then empty into the large one that

the ass is to carry; and which you will take care to fill equally

on each side. During this time, I will take the refreshment of

bathing; and then it will be your turn to bathe, and mine to

take care of the animals. I returned to the rocks, and was not

disappointed in my expectation of an enjoyment the most delicious;

but I did not stay long, fearing my boy might be impatient for

his share of so new a pleasure. When I had dressed myself, I

returned to the place, to see if his work had advanced; but he

was not there, and I supposed that he had again fallen asleep

in some corner. Presently, however, I heard his voice calling

out, father, father, a fish! a fish of monstrous size! Run quickly,

father, I can hardly hold him! he is eating up the string of

my line! I ran to the place from which the voice proceeded, and

found Ernest lying along the ground on his face, upon the extremity

of a point of land, and pulling in his line, to which a large

fish was hanging, and beating about with all his strength. I

ran hastily and snatched the rod out of his hand, for I had some

apprehension that the weight and activity of the fish, would

pull him into the water. I gave a certain liberty to the line,

to calm the fish, and then contrived to draw him gently along,

till I had got him safely into a shallow, from which he could

no longer escape, and thus the animal was effectually secured.

We next examined him thoroughly, and it appeared to me that it

could not weigh less than fifteen pounds; so that our capture

was magnificent, and would afford the greatest pleasure to our

good steward of provisions at Falcon’s Stream. You have now really

laboured, said I to Ernest, not only with your head, but with

your whole body; and I would advise you to wipe the perspiration

from your face, and keep a little quiet before you venture into

the water. You have procured us a dish of great excellence, which

will last for several days, and have conducted yourself like

a true chevalier, without fear and without reproach.

It was at least fortunate, observed he in a modest tone, that

I thought of bringing my fishing-rod.

_Father._—Certainly it was. But tell me how you came to see this

large fish, and what made you think you could catch it?

_Ernest._—I used to remark when we lived at Tent House, that

there were innumerable quantities of fish in the water, just

hereabout; the recollection of this circumstance made me determine

to bring my fishing-tackle with me. In my way to the place where

we keep the salt, I perceived a great number of little crabs,

upon which fishes feed, near the water’s brink; I thought I would

try to bait my hook with one of them; so I hurried my task of

fetching the salt, and came to this spot, where at first I caught

only about a dozen little fish, which are there in my handkerchief;

but at the same time I remarked, that they were chased in the

water by fishes of larger size. This gave me the idea of baiting

my hook with one of the small ones; but the hook was too small,

and my rod too weak. I then took one of the finest of the bulrushes

you had just gathered, and put a larger hook to my line, and

in a short time the large fish you see there seized upon the

bait, and paid his life for his voracity. However, I must confess,

that if you had not come to my assistance, I must either have

let go my line, or have been dragged into the water; for the

fish was stronger than I.

We now examined the smaller fishes he had caught, which for the

most part, appeared to me to consist of trout and herrings, while

I felt certain that the large one was a salmon. I immediately

cut them all open, and rubbed them in the inside with salt, that

they might not be injured by the heat. While I was employed in

this occupation, Ernest went to the rocks and bathed, and I had

time to fill some more bags with salt, before his return. We

then set about harnessing and loading our animals; after which

we restored the planks which had been taken from the bridge,

and then resumed the road to Falcon’s Stream.

When we had proceeded about half way, Ponto, who had been walking

quietly on before us, suddenly escaped, and by his barking gave

us notice that he scented some game. We soon after saw him pursuing

an animal, which seemed endeavouring to escape, and made the

most extraordinary jumps imaginable. The dog continuing to follow,

the creature in trying to avoid him, passed within gun-shot of

the place where I stood. I fired, but its flight was so rapid,

that I did not hit. Ernest, who was at a small distance behind,

hearing the report of my gun, prepared his own, and fired it

off at the instant the singular animal was passing near him,

in pursuit of a hiding-place among the tall herbage just by:

he had fired so skilfully, that the animal fell dead at the same

instant. I ran hastily, and with extreme curiosity, to ascertain

what kind of quadruped it might be. We found it, in form and

general appearance, the most remarkable possible to conceive.

It was of the size of a sheep, with a tail resembling that of

a tiger; both its snout and hair were like those of a mouse,

and its teeth were like a hare’s, but much larger; the fore legs

resembled those of the squirrel, and were extremely short; but

to make up of this, its hind legs were as long as a pair of stilts,

and of a form strikingly singular. We examined the creature for

a long time in silence; I could not be sure that I had ever seen

an engraving of it in any Natural History, or a description of

it in any book of Travels. Ernest, after a long and close examination,

interrupted our silence by an exclamation of joy: And have I

really killed this extraordinary animal? said he, clapping his

hands together. What will my mother and my brothers say? How

astonished they will be! and how fortunate I am in securing so

fine a prize! What do you think is its name, father? I would

give all the world to know.

[Illustration: Shooting the Kangaroo]

_Father._—And so would I, my boy; but I am as ignorant as you.

One thing, however, is certain, that this is your lucky day;

for you have already performed two wonderful feats, by destroying

two monsters, in the course of it; so that I shall be tempted

to give you the name of my little Hercules. You also sometimes

deserve that of my little Solomon. So let us both examine this

interesting stranger with attention, that we may be certain to

what family of quadrupeds it belongs: this will perhaps throw

a light upon its name.

_Ernest._—I think it can hardly be named a quadruped; for the

little fore legs look much more like hands, as is the case with

monkeys.

_Father._—They are notwithstanding legs, I can assure you. Let

us look for its name among the animals who give suck; on this

point we cannot be mistaken. Now let us examine its teeth.

_Ernest._—Here are the four incisory teeth, like the squirrel——.

_Father._—Thus we see that it belongs to the order of Nibblers.

Now let us look for some names of animals of this kind.

_Ernest._—Besides the squirrels, I recollect only the mice, the

marmots, the hares, the beavers, the porcupines, and the jumpers.

_Father._—The jumpers! That word furnishes the necessary clue;

the animal is completely formed like the gerboa or jumping hare,

except that it is twice the size of those of which I have read

a description . . . . . . Wait a moment, an idea strikes me. I will lay a

wager that our animal is one of the large jumpers, called kangaroo;

it belongs properly to the genus _Didelphis_ or _Philander_;

because the female, who never bears more than one young one,

carries it in a kind of purse placed between her hind legs. To

the best of my knowledge, this animal has never been seen but

on the coast of New Holland, where it was first observed by the

celebrated navigator Captain Cook. You may then be highly flattered

with your adventure, in killing an animal at once so rare and

so remarkable.

_Ernest._—You had very nearly, however, deprived me of the honour.

How happened it, father, that you missed him? you, who are so

much better a shot than I! I confess I should have been much

mortified in your place.

_Father._—I, on the contrary, rejoice in the circumstance.

_Ernest._—Well, that is droll enough; and I cannot understand

how any one can rejoice at having missed an animal in firing.

Will you explain it to me?

_Father._—I rejoice, because I love my son better than myself,

and take a more lively interest in his pleasure, and in any little

cause of exultation he may have, than if the occasion were more

immediately connected with myself.—Ernest, affected by my remark,

ran to embrace me. How truly I recognise in this assurance the

kind temper of my ever indulgent father! cried he.—Your gratitude

but increases my satisfaction, added I, embracing him in my turn;

but now let us see if we shall be able to drag the animal to

the sledge. Ernest requested that I would rather assist him to

carry it, as he was afraid of spoiling its beautiful mouse-coloured

skin, by dragging it on the ground. I therefore tied the fore

legs of the kangaroo together; and by means of two canes, we

with considerable trouble contrived to carry it to the sledge,

upon which it was securely fastened.

Ponto, who first discovered the kangaroo, had lost the scent,

and was scampering about in the tall grass, no doubt with the

hope of recovering his prey. We called him to us, and loaded

him with caresses and applauses: but he seemed indifferent to

our most flattering addresses; he kept close to the kangaroo,

and licked its wound, which was still bleeding. Having now nothing

more to detain us, we continued our road towards Falcon’s Stream.

As we walked along, we conversed on the subject of natural history,

and on the necessity of studying it in our youth, that we might

learn to class plants and animals according to their characteristic

marks; and we observed, that to such a knowledge as this it was

owing, that we had recognised the kangaroo. Ernest entreated

me to tell him all I knew about the animal. It is, said I, a

most singular kind of creature; and having hitherto been little

observed, it furnishes but few particulars for narration. Its

fore legs, as you see, have scarcely the third part of the length

of the hind ones, and the most it can do, is to make them serve the

purpose of walking; but the hind legs enable it to make prodigious

jumps, the same as in the flea and the grasshopper. The food

of the kangaroo consists of herbs and roots, which they dig up

very skilfully with their fore legs. They place themselves upon

their hind legs, which are doubled under them, as if on a chair,

and by this means are able to look above even the tall kinds

of grass; they rest too upon their tail, which is exceedingly

strong, and is also of great use to them in jumping, by assisting

the spring from the ground. It is said that the kangaroo, if

deprived of its tail, would scarcely be able to jump at all.

We at length arrived happily, though somewhat late, at Falcon’s

Stream, having heard from a great distance the kind welcome of

the salutations of our family. Our companions all ran to meet

us: but it was now, on seeing the ludicrous style of the dress

of the three boys, our turn for immoderate fits of laughter:

one had on a sailor’s shirt, which trained round him like the

robe of a spectre; another was buried in a pair of pantaloons,

which were fastened round his neck and reached to the ground;

and the third had a long waistcoat which came down to the instep,

and gave him the exact form of a travelling portmanteau. They

all tried to jump about; but finding this impossible from the

length of their garments, they next resolved to carry off the

whole with an air, by strutting slowly to and fro in the manner

of a great personage in a theatre. After some hearty laughing,

I inquired of my wife what could be the cause of this masquerade,

and whether she had assisted them in attempting to act a comedy

for our amusement. She disclosed the mystery by informing me,

that her three boys had also been into the water, to bathe, and

that while they were thus engaged, she had washed all their clothes;

but as they had not dried so soon as she expected, her little

rioters had become impatient, and had fallen on the chest of

sailor’s clothes, and each had taken from it what article he

pleased. I preferred, said she, that you should see them in this

odd sort of a disguise rather than quite naked, like little savages;

in which opinion, I assured her that I heartily joined.

It was now our turn to give an account of our journey: in proportion

as we advanced in our narrative, we presented, one after another,

casks, bulrushes, salt, fish, and lastly, with infinite triumph,

our beautiful kangaroo. In a trice it was surrounded, examined,

and admired by all, and such a variety of questions asked, that

Ernest and I scarcely knew which to answer first. Fritz was the

only one who was a little silent. I saw plainly by his countenance,

what was passing in his mind. He was jealous of the good fortune of

his brother Ernest; but I also saw, that he was struggling manfully

against the ascendancy of so mean a passion, and was resolving

to conquer it. In a short time, he had succeeded so completely,

that he joined frankly and unaffectedly in our conversation

and merriment, and I am persuaded, no one but myself perceived

what was passing in his mind. He came near the kangaroo, and

examined it with great attention; then turning to his brother,

he observed to him in a kind tone, that he had had good luck,

and that he must be a good shot to have killed the kangaroo with

so little difficulty. But, father, said he, when you go again

to Tent House, or on any other excursion, will it not be my turn

to go with you? For here at Falcon’s Stream there is nothing

new to amuse us; a few thrushes, and some pigeons; this is all

we have from day to day, and I find it very tiresome.

I will promise you with all my heart what you desire, my dear

boy, said I, for you have valiantly combated the ill humour and

the jealousy which assailed your temper, on witnessing your brother’s

success with the kangaroo. I therefore promise, that you shall

accompany me in my very next excursion, which will probably take

place at no greater distance of time than tomorrow; and it will be

another journey to the vessel. But in the mean time, let me observe

to you, my dear Fritz, that you ought to be more flattered with

the high opinion I must entertain of your prudence and judgement,

in leaving you here, in charge of your mother and your brothers,

than with the applause due to the event of killing a kangaroo.

You have accomplished an important duty, in keeping near them

all the time, and not suffering yourself to be allured by such

amusements as presented themselves to your fancy; and this conduct

has increased my affection and respect for you. Some praise is

also due to Ernest, for the moderation with which he has felt

his triumph, in so extraordinary an occurrence; for he has not

even told you of my humiliating failure in attempting to shoot

the kangaroo. To triumph over our passions, and to have on all

occasions a perfect government of our temper, is an acquisition

of infinitely more value, than the showing a certain skill in

firing off a gun, and killing an innocent animal. We happen,

in our situation, to be forced upon the cultivation of such arts

as these; but though we may practise them as necessary for our

existence, we have no reason to be proud of them.

We concluded the day with our ordinary occupations; I gave some

salt to each of our animals, to whom it was an acceptable treat.

We next skinned our kangaroo, and put it carefully aside till

the next day, when we intended to cut it to pieces, and lay such

parts in salt, as we could not immediately consume. We made an

excellent supper on our little fish, to which we added some potatoes,

nor were our faithful companions Turk and Ponto neglected. The

labours of the day had more than usually disposed us all to seek

repose; we therefore said our prayers at an early hour, mounted

our ladder, and were soon asleep.

THE END OF PART I.

_Printed by Richard and Arthur Taylor, Shoe-Lane, London._

_The Editor of this work promises, in a note annexed to the

Conclusion, that the Continuation of the story shall be given to the

public in the following season. As soon as the German copy of the

Continuation can be procured, the translation of it shall be made and

published. Meanwhile it may be observed, that though as a story it is

at present incomplete, as an exercise for the improvement of

knowledge and ingenuity for children, it is entirely fit for use._

PART II.

[Title page: Volume II]

THE FAMILY ROBINSON CRUSOE.