CHAPTER XX.

_The bake-house._

I waked the boys very early, reminding them that I had promised

to teach them a new trade. What is it? What is it? exclaimed

they all at once, springing suddenly out of bed and hurrying

on their clothes.

_Father._—It is the art of baking, my boys, which at present

I am no more acquainted with than yourselves; but we will learn

it together, and I am much mistaken if we shall not be able to

produce an excellent batch of bread, which will be the greater

luxury, from our having been altogether deprived of it during

our residence in this island. Hand me those iron plates that

we brought yesterday from the vessel, and the tobacco-graters

also.

_Mother._—I really cannot understand what tobacco-graters and

iron plates can have to do with making bread; a good oven would

afford me much better hopes, and this, unfortunately, we do not

possess.

_Father._—These very iron plates, the same you looked so disdainfully

upon no longer since than yesterday, will serve the purpose of the

things you are now wishing to have.—I cannot, it is true, promise,

in this early attempt, to produce you light and handsome-looking

bread; but I can answer that you shall have some excellent-tasted

cakes, though they should be a little flat and heavy;—we will

immediately make our experiment. Ernest, bring hither the roots

found underground: but first, my dear, I must request you to

make me a small bag of a piece of the strongest wrapper linen.

My wife set instantly to work to oblige me; but having no great

confidence in my talents for making cakes, she first filled with

potatoes the large copper boiler we had brought from the ship,

and put it on the fire, that we might not find ourselves without

something to eat at the time of dinner: in the meanwhile I spread

a large piece of coarse linen on the ground, and assembled my

young ones round me to begin our undertaking; I gave each of

the boys a grater, and showed him at the same time how to rest

it on the linen, and then to grate the roots of manioc; so that

in a short time each had produced a considerable heap of a substance

somewhat resembling pollard. The occupation, as is always the

case with novelties, proved infinitely amusing to them all, and

they looked no further into the matter; one showed the other

his heap, saying in a bantering tone: Will you eat a bit of nice

cake made of grated radishes?

_Father._—Make as merry as you please, young gentlemen, on the

subject of this excellent production of nature, which ere long

you will acknowledge to have yielded you a most palatable kind

of food; a food which is known to be the principal sustenance

of whole nations of the continent of America, and which the Europeans

who inhabit those countries even prefer to our wheaten bread.

I must tell you, there are many kinds of manioc; one of these

shoots rapidly, and its roots become mature in a short time;

a second sort is of more tardy growth; and there is another,

the roots of which require the space of two years to be fit for

use. The first two kinds have pernicious or unwholesome qualities

when eaten raw, but the third may be eaten without fear: for

all this, the two first are generally preferred, as being more

productive, and requiring a shorter time for being fit for use.

_Jack._—One would think only madmen could prefer those that are

pernicious: we cannot to be sure but be overwhelmed with gratitude

for some cake that is to kill us (and the young rogue threw his

grater from him as he spoke)! who shall tell us that our fine

roots here are not of the same pernicious kind?

_Father._—At all events we shall not eat them raw; as nearly

as I recollect, the tardy kind, like these we have procured,

grow in the form of a bush; while the other two are creeping

plants. However, to be quite sure, the first thing we will do,

shall be to press the pollard.

_Ernest._—For what end, father, shall we press it?

_Father._—Because, even in the pernicious kind it is only the

sap which is hurtful; the more substantial part being when dried

extremely wholesome and even nourishing. But that we may act

with the greatest possible prudence, we will give some of our

cakes to the fowls and to the monkey, before we venture to eat

of them ourselves; if they do them no harm, we may then proceed

to feast on them with safety.

_Jack._—Thank you, father; but I have no fancy to let my monkey

be poisoned.

_Father._—You may be perfectly easy, Jack, for the preservative

instinct of your monkey is such, that he would not touch it if

it were poisonous; animals are in this respect better treated

than man, who is called upon to use his reason in supplying the

deficiency: at all events, however, we will give him so little

that no harm can possibly ensue.

Upon this Jack picked up his grater, and with the others began

to grate the roots with new alertness: dread of the poison had

for an instant palsied every arm; but a very short time was now

sufficient for producing a considerable quantity of ground manioc.

By this time my wife had completed the bag. I had it well filled

with what we called our pollard, and she closed it effectually

by sewing up the end. I was now to contrive a kind of press:

I cut a long, straight, well-formed branch, of considerable strength,

from a neighbouring tree, and stripped it of the bark; I then

placed a plank across the table we had fixed between the arched

roots of our tree, and which was exactly the right height for

my purpose, and on this I laid the bag; I put other planks again

upon the bag, and then covered all with the large branch, the

thickest extremity of which I inserted under an arch, while to

the other, which projected beyond the planks, I suspended all

sorts of heavy substances, such as lead, our largest hammers

and bars of iron, which, acting with great force as a press on

the bag of manioc, caused the sap it contained to issue in streams,

which flowed plentifully on the ground.

_Fritz._—This machine of yours, father, though simple, is as

effectual as can be desired.

_Father._—Certainly. It is the simplest lever that the art of

mechanism can furnish, and may be made extremely useful.

_Ernest._—I thought that levers were never used but for raising

heavy masses, such as blocks of stone, and things of that degree

of weight; I had no notion that they were ever used for pressing.

_Father._—But, my dear boy, you see that the point at which the

lever rests on the planks, must always be the point of rest or

compression; the point at which its extremity touches the roots

of the tree would no doubt be that of the raising power, if the

root was not too strong to yield to the point of the lever; but

then the resistance at the point of compression or rest is still

stronger, and presses effectually, as you see, the contents of

the bag. The Negroes, however, have another manner of proceeding;

but it would have been much too tedious in the process for us

to imitate. They make tresses of the bark of a tree, and with

it form a kind of basket of tolerable size; they fill it with

manioc, and press it so tightly that the baskets become shorter,

and increase in breadth; they then hang the baskets to the strongest

branches of trees, and fasten large stones to them, which draw

the baskets again lengthways; by which action upon the manioc,

the sap runs out at the openings left by the tresses.

_Mother._—Can one make no use of this sap?

_Father._—Certainly, we may: the same Negroes use it as food,

after mixing with it a considerable quantity of pepper; and,

when they can procure them, some sea crabs. The Europeans, on

the other hand, leave it to settle in vessels till it has formed

a sediment; they then pour off the liquid part, wash the sediment

with fresh water, and place it to dry in the sun: in this manner

they obtain from it an excellent sort of starch, which is used

for clearing linen. I must tell you that the potatoe also contains

the same sort of substance, which may be put to the same use:

for the rest, the latter is less nourishing than the manioc.

_Mother._—But pray tell me, are we to prepare the whole of this

manioc at once? If so, we have at least a whole day’s work, and

a great part must be spoiled at last.

_Father._—Not so, my dear; when the pollard is perfectly dry,

it may be placed in casks, and being shut closely down, it will

keep for years; but you will see that the whole of this large

heap will be so reduced in quantity by the operation we are going

to apply of baking, that there will be no cause for your apprehension.

_Fritz._—Father, it no longer runs a single drop; may we not

now set about making the dough?

_Father._—I have no objection; but it would be more prudent to

make only a small cake, at first, by way of experiment, which

as I said before we will give to the monkey and the fowls, and

wait to see the effect, instead of exhausting our whole store

at once.

We now opened the bag, and took out a small quantity of the pollard,

which already was sufficiently dry; we stirred the rest about

with a stick, and then replaced it under the press. The next

thing was to fix one of our iron plates, which was of a round

form, and rather convex, so as to rest upon two blocks of stone

at a distance from each other; under this we lighted a large

fire, and when the iron plate was completely heated, we placed

a portion of the dough upon it with a wooden spade. As soon as

the cake began to be brown underneath, it was turned, that the

other side might be baked also.

_Ernest._—O how nicely it smells! what a pity that we may not

eat some of it immediately!

_Jack._—And why not? I would eat some without the least fear;

and would not you, Francis?

_Father._—Hah, hah! What is then become of our terrible fear

of being poisoned, which made you even throw your grater from

you? Ah, I see how it is; the passion of gluttony is stronger

than your fear.—However, I certainly believe that in this case

it might be gratified without doing you an injury; nevertheless

it is better perhaps to wait till the evening, and not run a

greater risk than the loss of one or two of our fowls and of

the monkey; and we may say this trial of the cake will be the

first service he has rendered us.

As soon as the cake was cold, we broke some of it into crumbs,

and gave it to two of the fowls, and a larger piece to the monkey,

who nibbled it with a perfect relish, making all the time a thousand

grimaces to testify his content, while the boys stood by envying

the preference he enjoyed.

_Fritz._—Now tell me, father, how the savages manage to grate

their manioc, for surely they have not, like us, an instrument

fitted for the operation:—and tell me also, if they call their

composition by the name of cake or bread, as we do?

_Father._—The savages having no such article as bread in their

bill of fare, have consequently no word in their language to

express it. At the Antilles, the bread from the manioc is called

_cassave_; the savages make a kind of grater with sharp stones,

or shells; or when they can get nails, on which they set a high

value, they drive them into the end of a plank, and rub the manioc

upon it. But now, I pray you, good wife, give us quickly some

dinner, and we will afterwards resume the baking trade, provided

our tasters show no signs of the colic or swimming in the head.

_Fritz._—Are these, then, the only effects of poison, father?

_Father._—At least they are the most ordinary ones: there are

poisons which paralyse and induce a heavy sleep; such are opium,

if taken in too large a quantity; hemlock, &c. &c. Others are

sharp and corrosive, attacking the stomach and intestines: of

this class are arsenic, sublimate, and the pernicious sorts of

mushrooms. If, when either of these has been swallowed, there

be not immediate assistance procured, the human machine stops,

becomes disorganized, and the patient dies.—I will take this

occasion, my dear children, to caution you against a kind of

fruit extremely dangerous in its nature, and the more so from

the remarkable attraction of its external appearance. This fruit

is frequently found in America on the banks of rivers or in marshes,

and you may perhaps meet with it in this island. Its aspect is

agreeable to the eye, resembling a handsome kind of yellow apple

with red spots. It is, however, one of the strongest poisons

in the world: it is even said to be dangerous to sleep under

the shade of the tree which produces it. Be very careful, therefore,

should you happen to meet with it: it is known by the name of

_mancenilla_. Indeed I cannot too seriously exhort you not to

venture on eating any thing you may find, however alluring in

appearance, till you have first consulted me. Promise me this,

children, one and all of you.

_Jack._—I promise you heartily, father; and still further, I

will keep my word more faithfully than Adam did towards God,

who had forbidden him to eat of a certain apple.

_Father._—You will do well in this; but do not so presumptuously and

so readily blame that in another which under the same circumstances

you would have done yourself; I would lay a wager that you would

be the first to be led away by any worthless knave who should

come and tell you that I had been laughing at you all the while,

that the mancenilla is the finest apple in the world, and that

by eating it you would be rendered as strong as a lion; that

ready appetite of yours, and that little vanity we now and then

discover in you, would make you, I fear, forget my advice, and

greedily devour the apple.—But this is enough on the subject;

instead of thinking more of poisons, let us resort with confidence

to our plentiful dish of boiled potatoes; perhaps, dear wife,

you have some little relish to add to them to day:—what, I pray

you, may there be in that boiling vessel yonder?

_Mother._—It is the penguin that Jack killed and brought home.

To say the truth, we did not take a fancy to the dish, the bird

being of a strong and fishy flavour. Jack, however, was of a

different opinion, and he was left at full liberty to regale

himself to his appetite’s content.

The first thing we did after dinner was to visit our fowls. Those

among them which had eaten the manioc, were in excellent condition,

and no less so the monkey, who gave us sufficient proofs of life

and health in the multitude of gambols and grimaces he exhibited.

Now then to the bakehouse, young ones, said I—to the bakehouse

as fast as you can scamper. The grated manioc was soon emptied out

of the bag, a large fire was quickly lighted, and when sufficiently

fervent, I placed the boys where a flat surface had been prepared

for them, and gave to each a plate of iron and the quantity of

a cocoa nut full for them to make a cake apiece, and they were

to try who could succeed the best. They were ranged in a half

circle round the place, where I stood myself, that they might

the better be enabled to observe how I proceeded, and adopt the

same method for themselves. The result was not discouraging for

a first experiment, though it must be confessed we were now and

then so unlucky as to burn a cake; but there was not a greater

number of these than served to feed the pigeons and the fowls,

which hovered round us to claim their share of the treat. My

little rogues could not resist the pleasure of frequently tasting

their cake, a little bit at a time, as they went on. At length

the undertaking was complete; the cakes were put in a dish and

served in company with a handsome share of milk, to each person;

and with this addition, they furnished us an excellent repast:

what remained we distributed among our animals and fowls. I observed

with pleasure that the penguins which I had preserved alive,

accommodated themselves perfectly to this kind of food, and that

generally, they began to lose their former timid behaviour; I

therefore indulged my inclination to compassionate their captive

state, and ventured to disengage them from their comrades: this

indulgence procured me the pleasure of seeing them seemingly

in a state of newly acquired content.

The rest of the day was employed by the boys in making several turns

with their wheel-barrows, and by myself in different arrangements

in which the ass and our raft had a principal share, both being

employed in drawing to Tent-House the remaining articles we had

brought from the ship. When all this was done we retired to rest,

having first made another meal on our cakes, and concluded all

with pious thanks to God for the blessings his goodness thought

fit to bestow upon us.