Trial of the Cajack--The Alarm--Adventure
with Sea-Cows--The Drawbridge
The trial of the cajack was a grand holiday fête; all were anxious to
join in it: and when Fritz appeared, clad in his maritime costume,
he was formally invited to take his place in his boat of skin. I
had forgotten to say before, that the cajack was furnished with two
little wheels of copper, so that it could be used as well on land
as on sea. This advantage enabled my sons to arrange the ceremony
with all possible pomp. Fritz was installed upon his bench, as proud
as Neptune or any other marine god setting off on a distant voyage.
The form of the cajack was not a bad resemblance of those immense
shells that fable has assigned to the sea-gods, as having been used
for chariots. I untied the canoe and held myself ready to start at
a moment’s notice, if any real danger should threaten our Greenland
sailor. When all these precautions were taken--“To the sea!” cried I
to Fritz; “to the sea!” “Good-bye!” repeated his brothers; and the
cajack glided into the water with inconceivable rapidity. The surface
of the bay was calm and tranquil, and soon the Greenlander was
dancing gaily over the waves: then, like a skilful actor, he began
executing a series of evolutions, each more adroit or more audacious
than the other. Sometimes he would shoot off far out of our sight;
then suddenly he would disappear in a cloud of foam, to the great
terror of his mother; in another moment we saw his head above the
floods, and an oar that he had elevated to signalize his triumph.
The address and the audacity of our young sailor provoked, as one
can easily imagine, loud and frequent applause on our part: on his
part, not content with acting on the surface of the bay, he turned
his frail bark toward the Jackal’s River, and attempted to mount the
current; but this proved too strong for him, and threw him back so
violently that he disappeared from our sight. To jump into the canoe
and fly to the assistance of the poor Greenlander, was the affair
of an instant. Jack and Ernest went with me. The wheel of the canoe
appeared to us too slow; and while I exerted all my force in turning
it, my two sons took each an oar. We scarcely touched the surface
of the water, yet we could not perceive anything; our cries had no
echo but the rocks, and our sight was lost in the foaming waves that
boiled up around us. I felt my heart beating violently, and I had
not the courage to express my uneasiness to my sons; when suddenly,
in the direction of a rock just visible through the foam, I saw a
light cloud of smoke issuing forth, and putting my hand on my pulse,
I counted its beat four times before that smoke was followed by a
report.
“He is saved!” cried I, “he is saved! Fritz is there in the direction
of the smoke: before a quarter of an hour he will rejoin us.”
I then fired my pistol, which was instantly answered by another
report in the same direction. Ernest drew out his watch. After a hard
row we perceived Fritz, and in a quarter of an hour we reached him.
We found the young hero of the sea established on the rocks. Before
him lay a walrus, or sea-cow, which he had killed with his harpoon. I
commenced by reproving my son for his imprudence.
“My dear father,” answered he, “it was the current that swept me away
in spite of myself: my oars were like straws before the impetuosity
of the Jackal’s River; and I found myself thrown back into the sea,
at such a distance as to lose sight of land altogether. But I had no
time to fear: a company of sea-cows passed along, almost under my
nose. To throw my harpoon and strike one of these animals was the
work of an instant; but the wound I had inflicted was not mortal, and
instead of weakening him, it seemed, on the contrary, to inspire him
with new strength. He dived down; but the traces of blood he left
behind, and the bladder of air fastened to the end of the rope of
the harpoon, served as guides to follow him. The second time I was
more successful, and I launched a second harpoon direct in his side.
This last blow was decisive, and, after some struggles, the monster
extended himself on this rock. Remembering our precaution with the
boa, I fired two pistols at the head of the animal, and probably
those were the reports you heard.”
“You have achieved a truly heroic action, and the combat was a
perilous one. The walrus is a redoubtable monster; and instead of
flying, he would have turned upon you, and God knows, my poor child,
what would have become of you if your frail boat of leather had been
torn by the terrible teeth of the walrus. But, God be praised, you
are safe, and that is better than the capture of ten such animals,
which are not very precious game. I do not know what use this will be
to us, notwithstanding it is near ten feet long.”
“Well, then, if it is good for nothing,” answered Fritz, “I will keep
the head myself: I will prepare it and fasten it to the bow of my
cajack: its long, white teeth will have a fine effect, and I will now
call my cajack ‘The Walrus.’”
“The teeth of the walrus,” said I, “are the only things worth
preserving. They are as white and hard as ivory. But make haste, for
the sky gives sure token of a storm.”
I wished to take Fritz and his cajack into our canoe, but he refused,
and dashed on, saying he would announce our return to his mother. I
let him proceed, and he soon passed us.
The storm came on quicker than I had anticipated. We had scarcely
accomplished a third of our course, when the thick, black clouds that
brooded over the horizon burst forth in torrents of rain. The wind,
the lightning, the waves, were confounded in horrible confusion.
Fritz was too far from us to allow of his joining us, and I repented
of not having taken him into the boat with us. I desired Jack and
Ernest to put on their swimming corsets, which we were always careful
to take with us, and to lash themselves fast to the ropes of the
canoe, so that they would not be carried away by the waves that
occasionally broke over us.
The tempest increased, and my anxiety increased with it; the waves
elevated themselves like mountains: at one moment we would be high
in air, and at another precipitated to the bottom of an abyss, where
it would seem we were lost for ever. But the violence of the tempest
prevented its lasting a great while. The waves subsided, and after a
hurricane of a quarter of an hour, the wind fell, and the storm for a
time was over, although black and angry clouds rolled over our heads.
We redoubled our efforts at the oars and the wheel, and soon arrived
within sight of Safety Bay. We entered the well-known harbour, and
the first objects which greeted our sight were Fritz, Francis,
and their mother, kneeling on the beach: they were praying for our
preservation. The heart of my poor Elizabeth was almost broken with
anxiety, and she needed to put all her trust in Him who alone can
comfort.
We leaped from our canoe, amid the cries of joy and the embraces of
the dear ones who rushed to our arms. My wife had not strength to
articulate a single word of reproach for the great imprudence we had
displayed: her only thought was a feeling of thankfulness to our
Almighty Preserver.
We all united in prayer, and retired to the grotto, to exchange our
dripping garments for dry ones.
“At last,” said Fritz, who then spoke, “we are again united. I had
given up all hopes of ever seeing you again, when a huge wave swept
over my little barque; but I held my breath, and the wave passed on,
and I found myself still alive. But it was not my exertions that
brought me to the shore: there was a stronger hand than mine that
sustained my cajack among the waves--the hand of God,” added the
young man; “and to Him have I rendered homage.”
The rain had been so abundant that the Jackal’s River had overflowed
its banks and damaged some of our constructions, which demanded
instant restoration. We therefore employed ourselves in building
protections against any other storms that might visit the coast of
Felsenheim. During our labours we received the visit of a superb
company of salmon. We captured a number, which were salted and smoked
according to the customary manner; we preserved some alive by passing
a strong cord through the gills and fastening them to stakes.
We had resumed the peaceable course of our domestic avocations, when,
one clear moonlight night, I was suddenly awakened by barks and
cries, as if all the jackals of the country, the bears and tigers of
the savanna, had made an invasion into our domain. I rose in a great
fright, and arming myself with a gun, I walked to the door of the
grotto, which we generally left open on account of the fresh air.
Fritz had also heard the noise, and I found him half dressed, ready
to face the danger.
“What do you think it is, papa?” said he; “a new invasion of jackals?”
I dissembled the real fear I entertained, and assured my son that
doubtless it was our pigs, who were making us a nocturnal visit. I
did not think my supposition would be true. We ran out, and found
that our dogs and the jackal had captured three large hogs. Our first
movement was to laugh; we tried to call off our dogs, but in vain;
they had the poor pigs by the ears, and they would not let them go,
and we were forced to open their mouths with our hands. The pigs
never waited to see who were their liberators, but scampered away and
were soon across the river.
I attributed this invasion to negligence on our part, and thought we
had forgotten to take up the planks from Family Bridge; but, upon
examination, I found that they had been all removed, and that the
audacious pigs had come across on the beams of the bridge.
This occurrence convinced me that Family Bridge was not sufficient
for our security: instead of a barrier, it was only a means of
entering our domains. I had long contemplated the erection of a
drawbridge, and now appeared the proper time for constructing it. To
be sure, a drawbridge was not a little thing to undertake; but after
having constructed two vessels, attempted and executed a thousand
other things which required more skill than the simple art of
carpentering, we could not recoil before the idea of constructing a
drawbridge.
I understood the turning-bridges; but as I had neither vice nor
windlass, I was obliged to adopt the simplest kind of drawbridge. I
constructed, between two high stakes, a sweep that could be easily
moved, and by the means of two ropes, a lever, and a counterpoise,
we had a bridge which could be easily raised and lowered. It would
only ensure us against the invasion of animals, the river being too
shallow to oppose any obstacle to a more serious attack. Whatever it
was, our domains were enriched with a new masterpiece, and my young
people exerted themselves in a thousand gymnastic exercises about the
stakes of the drawbridge: it was lowered, and raised, and for a few
days it was a great source of amusement for them.