Once upon a time Robinson Crusoe, a Big Pudding Man from Yorkshire,
set sail for a slab called Guinea with the objects of buyin' some
Senegambians. Rob wished these high browns for a Broadway revue he
had a piece of, though he fails to state how come he had to sail the
briny for 'em, when he couldst of hired a slew of colored
entertainers in Birmingham and the etc.
How the so ever, he shoved off, and all went well till the twelfth
day, when along come grief! For no reason at all, either two or
fifty-one hurricanes hit the scow and drove it hither, thither and
even yon, much to the dismay of the passengers, as you may well
believe. Things had come to a pretty pass and somebody bellowed
"Land!" But before anybody couldst get in touch with this real-estate
operator, the ship hit a sand bank and bein' sick of the voyage it
begin to sink. So much for that.
Robinson Crusoe, bein' a jack of all trades, hopped in a lifeboat
with fourteen other devil-may-cares which started workin' their way
toward the new sub-division discovered by the lookout, but before
they got there the boat upset and everybody went down to mingle with
the other poor fish with the slight exception of Rob. The latter
done a Johnny Weismuller to shore, climbed up the cliffs and slept
that night in a tree with the monkeys. Let Dayton, Tennessee, laugh
that off!
Came the dawn and Rob woke up bright and early--that is, the mornin'
was bright and he was early. Much to his surprise and
disappointment, the ship was still floatin' about, and he seen at a
glance that nobody wouldst of been drownded had they only kept out of
the lifeboat or else stayed at home. Well, it was too late to tell
his deceased companions they were all wet and as Robby had a hunch he
was set for a long stay on the island he snapped into it.
His first imitation was to make a raft. He was a smart lad and knew
his bananas! With the aid of the raft this boy scout managed to get
his saxophone, food, gadgets, ammunition and game in season from the
ship, includin' a pair of cats and a dog. He wouldst of brung the
ship's horse and cow along too, only for one reason; namely, the ship
didn't have no horse or cow. Right after that the noble but
unseaworthy vessel sunk in deadly earnest. Bein' sociable to a
fault, Rob looked about for more company and fin'ly run down a
full-fledged parrot which he took the liberty of namin' "Poll" and
taught to talk in a twinklin'. I told you he was clever! Rob claims
the way this dizzy parrot wouldst crack "So's your old man!" and the
like was a caution and broke up many's the dull night.
Well, to make a long story even longer, Mrs. Crusoe's little boy next
scans the landscape for a joint to inhabit, but hotels was just
somethin' else the island didn't have. It was no Miami, though ripe
for a boom. D'ye think that stopped Robby? Hades, no! He snatched
up a ax and buildin' materials he'd hauled from the ship and builds
himself as nobby a drum as you'd care to lay a eye on. He was like
that.
In the midst of his labors a sack of grain caught his glance, and he
carelessly dumped the grain out on the ground, wishin' to use the
sack for evenin' clothes shouldst the monkeys ask him to bridge or
somethin'. That night it rained like nobody's business, and the next
mornin' Rob nearly swoons when outside his hut he seen whole rows of
corn, rice, barley and produce growin' where he'd throwed that grain.
"Well, burn my clothes!" laughs Robby, which was delighted with his
good fortune and imagination. "If them Californians couldst only see
this!"
Though Rob had never used tools before in his life, he found that
when it got down to makin' furniture he had Grand Rapids lookin' like
a novice, what I mean! Tables, chairs, bureaus, desks, beds,
custom-made limousine bodies or what have you flowed from his fluent
ax like magic. This go-getter likewise turned out baskets, hammers,
creature comforts, hatchets, nails, crowbars and fliv rear ends as a
side line. Why, they was no stoppin' the kid, and a simple ax to him
was the same as a fully equipped machine shop to anybody else. His
favorite feat of strength and skill was to stick his finger in his
ear and hold himself out at arm's length!
They was cake galore on this wonderful island, but alas, no bread.
Well, Rob was no cake eater, so he grabs up his trusty ax again,
which was a little worn by now, and hews him a bakery. He ovened a
wicked poultice, as he readily admits. All this took him a paltry
three years, but, then, he was short-handed, as them cats, the dog
and the wise-crackin' parrot was all thumbs when it come to helpin'
him hew.
Rob kept one of the finest stables of goats on the island, which done
nothin' night and day but make his clothin'. That is, they growed
their own skin, at which point Rob stepped in and knocked 'em off,
sewin' their hides into plus fours and the like. He was gettin'
smarter all the time.
In that way the years passed like years. Rob was king of the island,
even if he didn't have no subjects, and he wouldst of been as happy
as happy itself, but for one thing--namely, he thought the island was
applesauce and he craved somebody to talk to. Robby didn't care who
it was, but he wouldn't of cut his throat by no means if his
tête-à-tête had been late of the Follies!
Walkin' about his vast domains one fine day, Rob gets the thrill
which comes once in a lifetime to a guy on a desert island. He seen
a human footprint in the sand. Hot dog! Right away Rob thinks of
cannibals and not havin' the wish to be part of somebody's diet he
scurries back to his castle and locks himself in.
"What a sucker I was to go down to the sea in ships!" says Rob to his
parrot. "They's Hades to pay and no pitch hot!"
"Be your age--this is only a book we're in, anyways!" sneers pretty
Poll.
Rob had now put in twenty-two annums on this island, and he was
commencin' to feel the need of a change. Two years later he heard a
great how-dy-do on the beach and peerin' down from his cliff he seen
a nude savage runnin' for his life from a mob of other scantily clad
savages. He had the skin they'd love to touch! They hurled spears
and tommyhawks and sarcastical remarks at the runner, but he was a
two-legged fool and was tow-ropin' the field when he stumbled. Well,
Robinson Crusoe come to the rescue by drawin' his gat and cookin' a
bevy of these cannibals. The rest of 'em scampered away with shrill
cries of indignation, and the sap he saved from a fatal death fell
down at Robby's shapely feet and says:
"Boss, yo' sure is de berries, and Ah'm yo' slave fo' life!"
"Fair enough!" says Rob. "And what might your name be, gentle
stranger?"
"Did y'all ever heah ob Napoleon Bonaparte?" asks the dinge.
"Yes," says Robby, gettin' interested in spite of himself.
"Well, mah name's Friday!" grins the slave, executin' a parabola.
"My, my, it's a small world after all!" remarks Crusoe.
"Ain't it de truf?" says Friday, the first yes-man, with typical
cannibal wit.
As this was no time to draw the color line, the men become fast
friends and after Rob had been on the island for a net total of
twenty-seven years, a English ship comes along. The captain tripped
gracefully ashore and told Rob he was just the egg he was lookin'
for, as his crew had went crazy and mutinied on him. What to do? In
round numbers, Crusoe and Friday made mince meat of the crew's
ringleaders and then sailed for home on the ship. Robby made Friday
a present of a brand-new whisk broom and got him a job as a Pullman
porter, so they all lived happy ever after.
Robinson Crusoe was gone on that one voyage a total of thirty-five
fiscal years and from that day to this he can't as much as look at a
anchor without gettin' deathly sick at his stomach. He nearly killed
a real-estate agent which tried to sell him a home on Long Island!