Inspection of the Country.--Marimonda.--A City seen through the Fog.
--The Sea every where.--Dialogue with a Toucan.--The first Shot.
--Declaration of War.--Vengeance.--A Terrestrial Paradise.
While watching the departure of the Swordfish, Alexander Selkirk felt
the same sensation as on that day when he had seen the doors of the
college of St. Andrew thrown open for his exit; once more he was his
own master. Now, however, it is at some thousands of miles from his
country that he must reap the benefits of his independence, and this
idea embitters his emotions of joy.
But is he not about to find countrymen at Coquimbo? And if their
society should be unpleasing?--if their habits, their mode of life,
their persons, should become objects of antipathy to the misanthropic
Selkirk, as it is but natural to fear? Well! after all, no engagement
binds him to them; he will be always free to enter, in the capacity of
a sailor, the first vessel which may leave for Europe.
Determined to act as shall seem good to him,--to make some excursions
into the interior of the continent, if an opportunity presents itself,
and he will know how to make one,--he casts a first glance at the land
of his adoption.
Before him extends a vast shore, studded with groves of trees, covered
with fine turf and little flowers joyfully unfolding their petals to
the sun: two streams, having their source at the very base of the
opposite hills, after having meandered around this immense lawn, unite
almost at his feet.
He bends down to one of these streams, fills the hollow of his hand
with water, and tastes it, as a libation, and as a toast to the
generous land which has just received him; the water is excellent; he
plucks a flower, and continues his inspection.
On his left rise high mountains, terraced and verdant, excepting at
their summits, on one of which he perceives a goat, with long horns,
stationed there immovable like a sentinel, and whose delicate profile
is clearly defined on the azure of the sky. On the side towards the
sea, the mountains, bending their gray and naked heads, resemble stone
giants, watching the movements of the wave which dashes at their feet.
On his right, where the land declines, he sees little valleys linked
together with charming undulations; but on the mountains at his left,
in the valleys at his right, among the hills in the distance, his eye
vainly seeks the vestige of a human habitation.
He sets out in search of one. The boat from which he landed has
deposited on the shore his effects--his arms, his nautical
instruments, his charts, a Bible, and provisions of various kinds.
Notwithstanding his piratical sentiments, the captain of the Swordfish
has not designed to precede exile by confiscation. Selkirk takes his
gun, his gourd; but, unable to carry all his riches, he conceals them
behind a stony thicket, well defended by the darts of the cactus, and
the sword-like leaves of the aloe, not caring to have the first comer
seize them as his booty.
As he is occupied with this duty, he feels himself suddenly clasped by
two long hairy arms; he turns his head, it is Marimonda, the captain's
monkey, a female of the largest species.
How came she there? Selkirk does not know.
Disgusted with her sea-voyages, with the intelligence natural to her
race, Marimonda has undoubtedly profited by the moment of the boat's
leaving the ship to conceal herself in it and gain the shore along
with the prisoner, which she might easily have done, unseen by all,
during the transporting of the effects and provisions.
However this may be, Selkirk begins by freeing himself from her grasp,
repulses the monkey and sets out: but the latter perseveres in
following, and after having, by her most graceful grimaces, sought to
conciliate him, marches beside him. Not caring to arrive at Coquimbo
escorted by such a companion, which would give him in a city the
appearance of a mountebank and showman of monkeys, Selkirk, this time,
repulses her rudely, not with his hand, but with the butt of his gun.
Struck in the breast by this home thrust, the poor monkey stops, rolls
up her eyes, moves her lips, and growling confusedly her complaints
and reproaches, crouches beneath a tuft of the sapota, leaving the man
to pursue his way alone.
Selkirk has at first directed his steps toward the valleys; after
having traversed these, he arrives at the margin of a sandy plain, and
as far as the eye can reach, perceives neither city, village, house,
tent nor hut, nothing which can indicate the presence of inhabitants.
Nevertheless, a little grove which he has just traversed, seems to
have recently, in its principal path, passed under the shears of a
gardener; the foliage presents a certain symmetry; fragments of
branches are strewed, on the ground, which seem to have been freshly
cut; he even thinks he sees vestiges of the passage of a flock. On the
lawn of the shore, he has seen, and still sees around him, trees with
tufted heads, which must owe this form to art. He continues his
researches.
At last, in the distance, beneath a fog which is just beginning to
dissolve, he perceives a vast mass of white and red houses, some with
terraced roofs, others covered with thatch; through the humid veil
which envelopes them, he sees the glistening of the glass in the
windows; already he hears at his feet the confused noise of cities;
murmuring voices reply; the measured sound of hammers and of mills
even reaches his ear.
It is Coquimbo! he cannot doubt it, and shortening his route by a path
across the hill, he quickens his pace.
Meanwhile an east wind arises, the fog disappears; when he thinks he
has reached the suburbs of the city, Selkirk sees before him only an
irregular assemblage of calcareous stones, crowned with dry herbs, or
reddish, arid, angular rocks, flattened at their summits, tessellated
with fragments of silex and mica, on which the sun is just pouring his
rays; a company of goats, which the mist had condemned to a momentary
repose, are bounding here and there, startling flocks of clamorous
black-birds and plaintive sea-gulls; the fearless and yellow-crested
woodpeckers alone do not stir, but continue to hammer with their sharp
beaks at some old stunted trees.
The disenchantment is painful for our sailor; the fog has deceived him
with the semblance of a city, as it has more than once deluded us in
the midst of plains and woods, by the appearance of an ocean with its
white waves, its great capes, its bold shores, and its vessels at
anchor.
Perhaps Coquimbo is still beyond. Fearing to lose himself if he
ventures farther in an unknown land, he resolves to explore it first
by a look. Returning to the shore upon which he had landed, he scales
the mountains on the north, reaches the first platform, and from
thence seeks to discover some indications of a city. Nothing! he still
ascends, the circle enlarges around him, but with no better result.
Summoning all his courage, through a thousand difficulties, climbing,
drawing himself up by the arid and abrupt rocks, piled one upon
another, he at last attains a culminating point of the mountain. He
can now embrace with his eye an immense horizon, but this immense
horizon is the sea! On his right, on his left, before him, behind him,
every where the sea!
He is not on the continent, but on an island.
This evening, exhausted with fatigue, he lies down in a grotto at the
foot of the mountain, where he passes a night full of agitation and
anxiety.
Rising with the sun, his first care, the next morning, is to examine
his riches and his provisions. He returns to the thicket of cactus and
aloes.
Besides two guns, two hatchets, a knife, an iron pot, a Bible and
nautical instruments, all articles belonging to him, he finds there a
quantity of nails, a large fragment of a sail, several horns of powder
and shot; a bag of ship biscuit, a salted quarter of pork, a little
cask of pickled fish, and a dozen cocoa-nuts.
The night before, at sight of these articles, he had supposed a
sentiment of justice and humanity to exist in the soul of the corsair.
Just now, he had said to himself that Stradling, deceived by a false
reckoning of latitude, had landed him on an island, perhaps believing
it to be a projecting shore of the continent. Now, the abundance of
his supplies, this biscuit, these salt provisions, these fruits of the
cocoa, all valueless if he had really landed at Coquimbo, lead him to
suspect that the vindictive Englishman has designedly chosen the place
of his exile.
But this exile, is it complete isolation? Is the island inhabited or
deserted? If it is inhabited, as he still believes he has reason to
suppose, by whom is it so?
That he may obtain a reply to this double question, he resolves to
traverse the country in its whole extent. At the very commencement of
his journey, the immobility of a bird suffices to give to the doubt,
on which his thoughts vacillate, the appearance almost of a certainty.
This bird is a toucan, of brilliant plumage and monstrous beak.
Selkirk passes near it, with his eyes fixed on the branch which serves
as a perch, and the toucan, without stirring, looks at him with a
species of calm and placid astonishment.
Selkirk stops; he comprehends the mute language of the bird.
'You do not know then what a man is! He is the enemy of every creature
to whom God has given life, the enemy even of his kind! You have then
never been threatened by the arms that I bear!'
And with the palm of his hand, striking the butt of his gun, he made
the hammer click.
At the sound of his voice, as at the noise of the hammer, the bird
raised its head, manifesting new and redoubled surprise, but without
any other movement. It seemed to think that the man and the gun were
one, and that its strange interlocutor possessed two different voices.
At last, by way of reply, it uttered a few shrill and prolonged cries,
accompanied by the rattling of its two horny mandibles. After which,
acting the great nobleman, cutting short the audience he has deigned
to grant, the toucan is silent, turns its head, proudly raises one of
its wings and busies itself in smoothing, with the point of its large
beak, its beautiful greenish feathers, variegated with purple.
At some distance from this spot, still following the margin of a
wooded hill, Selkirk sees other birds, some in their nests, others
warbling in the shade; all manifesting no more alarm at his presence
than did the toucan. Crested orioles, hooded bullfinches, alight to
pick up little grains or insects almost at his feet; humming-birds,
variegated cotingas, red manaquins flutter before him in the sunbeams,
pursuing invisible flies; little wood-peckers, black or green, hop
around the trunks of the trees, stopping a moment to see him pass and
then resuming their spiral ascent.
The confidence which he inspires is not confined to these winged
people. Upon a hillock of turf he perceives an animal, with pointed
nose, brown fur enamelled with red spots, and of the size of a hare;
seated on its hind paws, longer than those in front, it uses these,
after the manner of squirrels, to carry to its mouth some nuts of the
maripa, which constitute its breakfast. It is an agouti,[1] a mother,
her little ones are near. At sight of the stranger they run to her,
but quickly re-assured, quietly finish their morning repast.
Farther on, coatis,[2] with short ears, and long tails; companies of
little Guinea pigs; armadillos, a species of hedge-hog without the
quills, but covered with an armor of scales, more compact and
impervious than that of the ancient knights of the Middle Ages,
arrange themselves along the line of his route, as if to pass him in
review.
[Footnote 1: _Agouti_. An animal of the bigness of a rabbit, with
bright red hair, and a little tail without hair. He has but two teeth
in each jaw; holds his meat in his forepaws like a squirrel, and has a
very remarkable cry: when he is angry, his hair stands on end, and he
strikes the earth with his hind feet; and when chased, he flies to a
hollow tree, whence he is expelled by smoke.--_Trevoux_.]
[Footnote 2: The _coati_ is a native of Brazil, not unlike the racoon
in the general form of the body, and, like that animal, it frequently
sits up on the hinder legs, and in this position carries its food to
its mouth. If left at liberty in a state of tameness, it will pursue
poultry, and destroy every living thing that it has strength to
conquer. When it sleeps it rolls itself into a lump, and remains
immovable for fifteen hours together. His eyes are small, but full of
life; and when domesticated, this creature is very playful and
amusing. A great peculiarity belonging to this animal is the length of
his snout, which resembles in some particulars the trunk of the
elephant, as it is movable in every direction. The ears are round, and
like those of a rat; the forefeet have five toes each. The hair is
short and rough on the back, and of a blackish color; the tail is
marked with rings of black, like the wild cat; the rest of the animal
is a mixture of black and red.]
Alas! this general quiet does but deepen in the heart of Selkirk the
certainty of his isolation.
Nevertheless, yesterday, said he to himself, in this thick wood, did I
not see alleys trimmed with the shears, trees shaped by the
pruning-knife?
And the little grove which he visited the evening previous, at that
instant presents itself before him. He examines the trees; they are
myrtles of various heights; but among their glossy branches, he in
vain seeks traces of the pruning-knife or shears; nature alone has
thus disposed in spheroids or umbels the extremities of this rich
vegetation.
The same disappointment awaits him in the underwood. The only pruners
have been goats, or other animals, daintily cropping the green shoots.
Then only does the complete and terrible certainty of his disaster
fall on him and crush him. Behold him blotted from the number of men,
perhaps condemned to die of misery and of hunger! more securely
imprisoned, more entirely forgotten by the world than the most
hardened criminal plunged in the lowest depths of the Bastile! He at
least, has a jailor! Miserable Stradling!
At this moment he hears a noise above his head: it is the monkey.
Marimonda, on her side, has also inspected the island; she has already
tasted its productions. Whether she is satisfied with her discoveries,
or whether forgiveness and forgetfulness of injuries are natural to
her, on perceiving her old companion, wagging her head in token of
good-will, she descends towards him from the tree on which she is
perched.
But Marimonda is the captain's monkey; she has been his property, his
favorite, his flatterer! In the disposition of mind in which Selkirk
finds himself, he does not need these thoughts to make him pitiless.
Marimonda reminds him of Stradling; the monkey shall pay for the man!
He lowers his gun, and fires. The monkey has seen the movement and
divined his intentions; she has only time to retreat behind her tree,
which does not prevent her receiving in her side a part of the charge.
This detonation of fire-arms, the first perhaps which has resounded in
this corner of the earth since the creation of the world, as it is
prolonged from echo to echo, even to the highest mountains, awakens in
every part of the island as it were a groan of distress. Instinct,
that sublime prescience, has revealed to all that a great peril has
just been born.
To the cries of affright from birds of every species, to the uneasy
and distant bleating of the goats, succeeds a plaintive moaning, like
the voice of a wailing infant.
It is Marimonda lamenting over her wound.
At nightfall, after an entire day of walks and explorations, Selkirk
is returning to his grotto on the shore, when he sees a stone fall at
his feet, then another.
While he, astonished, is seeking to divine the direction from which
this invisible battery plays, a little date-stone hits him on the
cheek. He immediately hears as it were a joyous whistling in the
foliage, which is agitated at his right, and sees Marimonda leaping
from tree to tree, using for this movement her feet, her tail, and one
hand; for she holds the other to her side. It is a compress on her
wound.
War is already in the island! Selkirk has a declared enemy here! And
this island, is it deserted? He has just traversed it in every
direction without seeing any thing which betokens the existence of a
human being.
His disaster is then complete; henceforth not a doubt of it can exist.
And yet his forehead wears rather the character of hope and fortitude
than of discouragement; it is more than resignation, it is pride.
He has just visited his empire. The island, irregular in form, is from
four to five leagues in length; in breadth it is from one and a half
to two leagues. This abode to which he is condemned, is the most
enchanting retreat he could have chosen; a luxuriant park cradled upon
the waves.
If sometimes, in the mountainous parts, he has encountered sterile and
rugged rocks, even abysses and precipices, they seem to be placed
there only as a contrast to the fresh and green valleys which encircle
them. If he has seen some dark, dense, inaccessible forests, entangled
in the thousand arms of interwoven vines, he has not discovered a
single reptile.
Every where, springs of living water, little streams which are lost
under a thick verdure, or fall in cascades from the summits of the
hills; every where a luxuriant vegetation; esculent and refreshing
plants, celery, cresses, sorrel, spring in profusion beneath his feet;
over his head, and almost within reach of his hand, palm-cabbages, and
unknown fruits of succulent appearance: on the margin of the shores,
muscles, periwinkles, shell-fish of every species, crabs crawling in
the moist sand; beneath the transparent waters, innumerable shoals of
fishes of all colors, all forms. Will game be wanting here? After what
he has seen this morning, he will not even need his gun to obtain it.
Oh! his provision of powder will last him a long time.
What has he to desire more in this terrestrial Paradise? The society
of men? Why? That he may find a master, a chief, under whose will he
must bend? Men! but he despises, detests them! Is he not then
sufficient for himself? Yes! this shall be his glory, his happiness!
To live in entire liberty, to depend only upon himself, will not this
impart to his soul true dignity? Besides, this island cannot be so far
from the coast, but, from time to time, ships, or at least boats must
come in sight. This is then for him but a transient seclusion; but
were he even condemned to eternal isolation, this isolation has ceased
to terrify him, he accepts it! Has he not almost always lived alone,
in spirit at least? When he was in the depths of the hold, was he not
better satisfied with his fate than when surrounded by those coarse
sailors who composed the worthy crew of the Swordfish?
To-day he is no longer the prisoner of Stradling, he is the prisoner
of God! and this thought reassures him.
A sailor, he has never loved but the sea; well! the sea surrounds him,
guards him! He has then only thanks to render to God.
Arrived at his grotto, he takes his Bible, opens it; but the sun,
suddenly sinking below the horizon, permits him to read only this
passage on which his finger is placed: 'Thou shalt perish in thy
pride!'