THE CASTAWAYS OF THE FLAG
BOOKS BY JULES VERNE
THE LIGHTHOUSE AT THE END OF THE WORLD
THE CASTAWAYS OF THE FLAG
THEIR ISLAND HOME
THE CASTAWAYS
OF THE FLAG
THE FINAL ADVENTURES OF
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON
JULES VERNE
AUTHOR OF
“THE LIGHTHOUSE AT THE END OF THE WORLD,”
“THEIR ISLAND HOME,” etc.
Frontispiece by
H. C. MURPHY
NEW YORK
G. HOWARD WATT
1819 BROADWAY
1924
Copyright, 1924, by
G. HOWARD WATT
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
Preface--“The Swiss Family Robinson”
and Its Sequel “Their Island Home”
I. The Castaways
II. In England
III. The Mutiny on the Flag
IV. Land Ahoy!
V. A Barren Shore
VI. Time of Trial
VII. The Coming of the Albatross
VIII. Little Bob Lost
IX. Bob Found
X. The Flag on the Peak!
XI. By Well-Known Ways
XII. Enemies in the Promised Land
XIII. Shark’s Island
XIV. A Perilous Plight
XV. Fighting for Life
XVI. Conclusion
“THE CASTAWAYS OF THE FLAG”
TRANSLATOR’S NOTE
With the restoration of Fritz Zermatt and his wife Jenny, his brother
Frank and the other Castaways of the Flag to their anxious and sorely
tried relatives in New Switzerland, the story of “The Swiss Family
Robinson” is brought to its proper end. Thereafter, the interest of
their domestic life is merged in that of the growth of a young colony.
Romance is merged in history and the romancer’s work is finished. Jules
Verne has here set the coping stone on the structure begun by Rudolph
Wyss, and in “The Swiss Family Robinson,” “Their Island Home” and “The
Castaways of the Flag” we have, not a story and two sequels, but a
complete trilogy which judges who survey it must pronounce very good.
A word may be permitted about this English version. Jules Verne is a
master of pure narrative. His style is singularly limpid and his
language is so simple that people with a very limited knowledge of
French can read his stories in the original and miss very little of
their substance. But to be able to read a book in one language and to
translate it into another are very different things. The very simplicity
of Jules Verne’s French presents difficulties to one who would translate
it into English. What the French call “idiotismes” abound in all Verne’s
writing, and I know few French authors to whose books it is so difficult
to impart a really English air in English dress. Whatever the
imperfections of these translations may be they cannot, however, mar
very greatly the pleasure the stories themselves give to every reader.
Cranstoun Metcalfe.
PREFACE
This story is a sequel to “Their Island Home,” which takes up the
adventures of the Swiss Family Robinson at the place where the author of
the original narrative dropped them.
“The Swiss Family Robinson” seems to have affected Jules Verne’s
literary bent as no other book ever did. It gave him that liking for the
lonely island life as the basis of a yarn which is conspicuous in much
of his work. In a preface to the story of which this is really a part he
tells how firmly New Switzerland established itself in the fabric of his
thoughts, till it became for him a real island inhabited by real people.
At last he was compelled to write about it, and “Their Island Home” and
“The Castaways of the Flag” are the result.
The youth of Europe--many generations of it--owes a big debt to the old
romancer who worked for so many years in his turret room at Amiens to
entertain it. From that room, with its many bookshelves, came volume
after volume of adventure, mostly with a big admixture of the
scientific. M. Verne was not one of those who pile hairbreadth escapes
one upon another till they become incredible. There are plenty of things
happening in his books, but they are the sort of things that would
happen, given the circumstances, and he explains why and how they
chanced in the most convincing manner possible. In these days of
submarines and aeroplanes it is interesting to read again the wonderful
Frenchman’s forecast of them in such books as “Twenty Thousand Leagues
under the Sea” and “The Clipper of the Clouds.” “Round the World in
Eighty Days”--the task would be an easy one now, but at the time when he
wrote it required great ingenuity to make it seem possible; and the end
of that book is one of the most ingenious things in fiction, though it
has for justification a simple geographical fact. Phineas Fogg was a day
late, as he believed. He had apparently lost his wager. But, having gone
round the world in the right direction, he had gained a day, and just
won. If he had gone the other way he would have been two days late, for
a day would have been lost to him--cut right out of the calendar!
The cryptogram which forms the main feature of “The Giant Raft”--the
deflection of the compass in “Dick Sands,” which causes the people on
the ship of which Dick had to take command to reach the coast of Africa,
while believing that they had landed on the American continent--the
device of the millionaire in “Godfrey Morgan,” which provided an island
with beasts of prey not native to it--the gigantic projectile which
carried those intrepid voyagers to the moon and round it--the reaching of
the interior of the earth by a road down the crater of one volcano and
the return to the surface up the crater of another--these are
imaginations not readily forgotten. And the other stories--“Five Weeks in
a Balloon,” “The Adventures of Three Englishmen and Three Russians,”
“The Tribulations of a Chinaman,” the yarns dealing with the Indian
Mutiny, “Michael Strogoff the Courier of the Czar,” and the rest--how
entrancing they were, and still are to a boy, or a man with something of
the boy yet in him!
“THEIR ISLAND HOME.”
Readers of the present book who have not read that named above--though
all should read it as well as this--will have no difficulty in joining
the story of the castaways to “The Swiss Family Robinson” with the help
of the brief sketch of its contents which follows.
The story begins with the arrival of the -Unicorn-, a British corvette
commanded by Lieutenant Littlestone, whose commission includes the
exploration of the waters in which New Switzerland is situate. He has
with him as passengers Mr. and Mrs. Wolston and their daughters Hannah
and Dolly.
When the -Unicorn- weighs anchor again Mr. Wolston and his wife and
their elder daughter, Hannah, remain on the island. But the corvette
takes away Fritz and Frank Zermatt and Jenny Montrose, who are all bound
for England, where Jenny hopes to find her father, Colonel Montrose, and
the two young men have much business to transact, and Dolly Wolston, who
is to join her brother James--a married man with one child--at Cape Town.
Mr. Wolston hopes that James, with his wife and child, will agree to
accompany Dolly and the Zermatts--by the time they return Jenny will have
become Mrs. Fritz Zermatt--to the island and take up their abode there.
The -Unicorn- gone, those left behind settle themselves down to await
her return, labouring meanwhile to make ready the island against the
possibility of a number of immigrants. One of their first improvements
is a canal for irrigation purposes. Mr. Wolston, a skilful engineer, and
Ernest, clever and thoughtful, reader of many books and with a distinct
scientific bent, are quite capable of planning such things as this.
There are seven people left on the island--M. and Mme. Zermatt, Mr. and
Mrs. Wolston, Jack Zermatt, adventurous and keen on sport, Ernest, and
the charming Hannah. Between these last two a strong affection develops.
The brothers, very unlike in nature, have little in common, but are good
friends in spite of that fact; and the whole seven form practically one
united and very happy family.
Only a small part of the island has ever been really explored during the
ten years the Zermatts have been there. They now determine to find out
more about it. In their pinnace, the -Elizabeth-, they voyage to a
hitherto unknown coast, and, after a very arid stretch, find the mouth
of a river, capable of floating the pinnace. They christen this the
Montrose, in compliment to Jenny.
To the south they see a great mountain range. In order to get as near
this as possible Mr. Wolston and Ernest make a canoe trip up the
Montrose, but are stopped at length by rapids and a great natural dam.
They all return to Rock Castle and face the dull days of the rainy
season, which proves more stormy than usual, and does some damage to
their possessions elsewhere than at Rock Castle. That season over, they
make preparations for another expedition--this time wholly by land, and
made by Mr. Wolston, Jack, and Ernest only, M. Zermatt remaining with
the three ladies.
The three are determined to reach the topmost peak of the mountain
range, and after some considerable difficulty they achieve their object.
They plant the British flag there, Lieut. Littlestone having
provisionally taken possession of the island in Great Britain’s name,
and they christen the mountain crest Jean Zermatt Peak. From it they
discern out at sea a ship flying the British colours. But she
disappears, to their intense disappointment.
At Rock Castle those left behind grow anxious when the time the
explorers had expected to be away lengthens itself by several days. Then
Mr. Wolston and Ernest turn up--without Jack.
That adventurous young man has wandered off after three elephants, in
the hope of capturing and taming the calf after killing the father and
mother. They have searched in vain for him, and are almost forced to the
conclusion that something tragic must have happened.
But Jack turns up, safe and sound. He has, however, an alarming tale to
tell. It would seem that their days of peace on the island are numbered.
He has been captured by savages, and, though he has escaped by adroit
courage, all know that the chance of the savages finding the Promised
Land is one with which they must reckon.
The -Unicorn- is now past the time appointed for her return, and the
seven have thus a double reason for anxiety.
Here “Their Island Home” finishes, and in the present book may be read
what came of it all, and in what way they emerged from heavy trouble
into peace and prosperity even greater than of old.
THE CASTAWAYS OF THE FLAG
CHAPTER I
THE CASTAWAYS
Night--a pitch-dark night! It was almost impossible to distinguish sky
from sea. From the sky, laden with clouds low and heavy, deformed and
tattered, lightning flashed every now and then, followed by muffled
rolls of thunder. At these flashes the horizon lit up for a moment and
showed deserted and melancholy.
No wave broke in foam upon the surface of the sea. There was nothing but
the regular and monotonous rolling of the swell and the gleam of ripples
under the lightning flashes. Not a breath moved across the vast plain of
ocean, not even the hot breath of the storm. But electricity so charged
the atmosphere that it escaped in phosphorescent light, and ran up and
down the rigging of the boat in tongues of Saint Elmo’s fire. Although
the sun had set four or five hours ago, the sweltering heat of the day
had not passed.
Two men talked in low tones, in the stern of a big ship’s boat that was
decked in to the foot of the mast. Her foresail and jib were flapping as
the monotonous rolling shook her.
One of these men, holding the tiller tucked under his arm, tried to
dodge the cruel swell that rolled the boat from side to side. He was a
sailor, about forty years of age, thick-set and sturdy, with a frame of
iron on which fatigue, privation, even despair, had never taken effect.
An Englishman by nationality, this boatswain was named John Block.
The other man was barely eighteen, and did not seem to belong to the
sea-faring class.
In the bottom of the boat, under the poop and seats, with no strength
left to pull the oars, a number of human beings were lying, among them a
child of five years old--a poor little creature whose whimpering was
audible, whom its mother tried to hush with idle talk and kisses.
Before the mast, upon the poop, and near the jib stays, two people sat
motionless and silent, hand in hand, lost in the most gloomy thoughts.
So intense was the darkness that it was only by the lightning flashes
that they could see each other.
From the bottom of the boat a head was lifted sometimes, only to droop
again at once.
The boatswain spoke to the young man lying by his side.
“No, no. I watched the horizon until the sun went down. No land in
sight--not a sail! But what I didn’t see this evening will perhaps be
visible at dawn.”
“But, bo’sun,” his companion answered, “we must get to land somewhere in
the next forty-eight hours, or we shall have succumbed.”
“That’s true,” John Block agreed. “Land must appear--simply must. Why,
continents and islands were made on purpose to give shelter to brave
men, and one always ends by getting to them!”
“If the wind helps one, bo’sun.”
“That is the only reason wind was invented,” John Block replied.
“To-day, as bad luck would have it, it was busy somewhere else, in the
middle of the Atlantic or the Pacific perhaps, for it didn’t blow enough
here to fill my cap. Yes, a jolly good gale would blow us merrily
along.”
“Or swallow us up, Block.”
“Oh no, not that! No, no, not that! Of all ways to bring this job to a
finish, that would be the worst.”
“Who can tell, bo’sun?”
Then for some minutes the two men were silent. Nothing could be heard
but the gentle rippling under the boat.
“How is the captain?” the young man went on.
“Captain Gould, good man, is in bad case,” John Block replied. “How
those blackguards knocked him about! The wound in his head makes him cry
out with pain. And it was an officer in whom he had every confidence who
stirred those wretches up! No, no! One fine morning, or one fine
afternoon, or perhaps one fine evening, that rascal of a Borupt shall
make his last ugly face at the yardarm or--”
“The brute! The brute!” the young man exclaimed, clenching his fists in
wrath. “But poor Harry Gould! You dressed his wounds this evening,
Block--”
“Ay, ay; and when I put him back under the poop, after I had put
compresses on his head, he was able to speak to me, though very feebly.
‘Thanks, Block, thanks,’ he said--as if I wanted thanks! ‘And land? What
about land?’ he asked. ‘You may be quite sure, captain,’ I told him,
‘that there is land somewhere, and perhaps not very far off.’ He looked
at me and closed his eyes.”
And the boatswain murmured in an aside: “Land? Land? Ah, Borupt and his
accomplices knew very well what they were about! While we were shut up
in the bottom of the hold, they altered the course; they went some
hundreds of miles away before they cast us adrift in this boat--in seas
where a ship is hardly ever seen, I guess.”
The young man had risen. He stooped, listening to port.
“Didn’t you hear anything, Block?” he asked.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” the boatswain answered; “this swell is as
noiseless as if it were made of oil instead of water.”
The young man said no more, but sat down again with his arms folded
across his breast.
Just at this moment one of the passengers sat up, and exclaimed, with a
gesture of despair:
“I wish a wave would smash this boat up, and swallow us all up with it,
rather than that we should all be given over to the horrors of
starvation! To-morrow we shall have exhausted the last of our
provisions. We shall have nothing left at all.”
“To-morrow is to-morrow, Mr. Wolston,” the boatswain replied. “If the
boat were to capsize there wouldn’t be any to-morrow for us; and while
there is a to-morrow--”
“John Block is right,” his young companion answered. “We must not give
up hope, James! Whatever danger threatens us, we are in God’s hands, to
dispose of as He thinks fit. His hand is in all that comes to us, and it
is not right to say that He has withdrawn it from us.”
“I know,” James whispered, drooping his head, “but one is not always
master of one’s self.”
Another passenger, a man of about thirty, one of those who had been
sitting in the bows, approached John Block and said:
“Bo’sun, since our unfortunate captain was thrown into this boat with
us--and that is a week ago already--it is you who have taken his place. So
our lives are in your hands. Have you any hope?”
“Have I any hope?” John Block replied. “Yes! I assure you I have. I hope
these infernal calms will come to an end shortly and that the wind will
take us safe to harbour.”
“Safe to harbour?” the passenger answered, his eyes trying to pierce the
darkness of the night.
“Well, what the deuce!” John Block exclaimed. “There is a harbour
somewhere! All we have to do is to steer for it, with the wind whistling
through the yards. Good Lord! If I were the Creator I would show you
half a dozen islands lying all round us, waiting our convenience!”
“We won’t ask for as many as that, bo’sun,” the passenger replied,
unable to refrain from smiling.
“Well,” John Block answered, “if He will drive our boat towards one of
those which exist already, it will be enough, and He need not make any
islands on purpose, although, I must say, He seems to have been a bit
stingy with them hereabouts!”
“But where are we?”
“I can’t tell you, not even within a few hundred miles,” John Block
replied. “You know that for a whole long week we were shut up in the
hold, unable to see what course the ship was shaping, whether south or
north. Anyhow, it must have been blowing steadily, and the sea did
plenty of rolling and chopping.”
“That is true, John Block, and true, too, that we must have gone a long
way; but in what direction?”
“About that I don’t know anything,” the boatswain declared. “Did the
ship go off to the Pacific, instead of making for the Indian Ocean? On
the day of the mutiny we were off Madagascar. But since then, as the
wind has blown from the west all the time, we may have been taken
hundreds of miles from there, towards the islands of Saint Paul and
Amsterdam.”
“Where there are none but savages of the worst possible sort,” James
Wolston remarked. “But after all, the men who cast us away are not much
better.”
“One thing is certain,” John Block declared; “that wretch Borupt must
have altered the -Flag’s- course and made for waters where he will be
most likely to escape punishment, and where he and his gang will play
pirates! So I think that we were a long way out of our proper course
when this boat was cut adrift. But I wish we might strike some island in
these seas--even a desert island would do! We could live all right by
hunting and fishing; we should find shelter in some cave. Why shouldn’t
we make of our island what the survivors of the -Landlord- made of New
Switzerland? With strong arms, brains, and pluck--”
“Very true,” James Wolston answered, “but the -Landlord- did not fail
her passengers. They were able to save her cargo, while we shall never
have anything from the -Flag’s- cargo.”
The conversation was interrupted. A voice that rang with pain was heard:
“Drink! Give me something to drink!”
“It’s Captain Gould,” one of the passengers said. “He is eaten up with
fever. Luckily there is plenty of water, and--”
“That’s my job,” said the boatswain. “Do one of you take the tiller. I
know where the can is, and a few mouthfuls will give the captain ease.”
And John Block left his seat aft and went forward into the bows of the
boat.
The three other passengers remained in silence, awaiting his return.
After being away for two or three minutes John Block came back to his
post.
“Well?” someone enquired.
“Someone got there before me,” John Block answered. “One of our good
angels was with the patient already, pouring a little fresh water
between his lips, and bathing his forehead that was wet with sweat. I
don’t know whether Captain Gould was conscious. He seemed to be
delirious. He was talking about land. ‘The land ought to be over there,’
he kept saying, and his hand was wobbling about like the pennon on the
mainmast when all winds are blowing at once. I answered: ‘Ay, ay,
captain, quite so. The land is somewhere! We shall reach it soon. I can
smell it, to northwards.’ And that is a sure thing. We old sailors can
smell land like that. And I said too: ‘Don’t be uneasy, captain,
everything is all right. We have a stout boat and I will keep her course
steady. There must be more islands hereabouts than we could know what to
do with. Too many to choose from! We shall find one to suit our
convenience--an inhabited island where we shall find a welcome and where
we shall be sent home from.’ The poor chap understood what I said, I am
sure, and when I held the lantern near his face he smiled to me--such a
sad smile!--and at the good angel too. Then he closed his eyes again, and
fell asleep almost at once. Well! I may have lied pretty heavily when I
talked about land to him as if it were only a few miles off, but was I
far wrong?”
“No, Block,” the youngest passenger replied; “that is the kind of lie
that God allows.”
The conversation ended, and the silence was only broken thereafter by
the flapping of the sail against the mast as the boat rolled from one
side to the other. Most of those who were aboard her, broken down by
fatigue and weakened by long privation, forgot their terrors in heavy
sleep.
Although these unhappy people still had something wherewith to quench
their thirst, they would have nothing wherewith to appease their hunger
in the coming days. Of the few pounds of salt meat that had been flung
into the boat when she was pushed off, nothing now remained. They were
reduced to one bag of sea-biscuits for eleven people. How could they
manage, if the calm persisted? And for the last forty-eight hours not
one breath of breeze had stolen through the stifling atmosphere, not
even one of those intermittent gusts which are like the last sighs of a
dying man. It meant death by starvation, and that within a short time.
There was no steam navigation in those days. So the probability was
that, in the absence of wind, no ship would come into sight, and, in the
absence of wind, the boat could not reach land, whether island or
continent.
It was necessary to have perfect faith in God to combat utter despair,
or else to possess the unshakeable philosophy of the boatswain, which
consisted in refusing to see any but the bright side of things. Even now
he muttered to himself:
“Ay, ay, I know; the time will come when the last biscuit will have been
eaten; but as long as one can keep one’s stomach one mustn’t grumble,
even if there is nothing to put in it! Now, if one hadn’t got a stomach
left, even if there were plenty to put in it--that would be really
serious!”
Two hours passed. The boat had not moved a cable’s length, for there was
only the motion of the swell to affect her. Now the swell does not move
forward; it merely makes the surface of the water undulate. A few chips
of wood that had been thrown over the side the day before were still
floating close by, and the sail had not filled once to move the boat
away from them.
While merely afloat like this, it was little use to remain at the helm.
But the boatswain declined to leave his post. With the tiller under his
arm, he tried at least to avoid the lurching which tilted the boat to
one side and another, and thus to spare his companions excessive
shaking.
It was about three o’clock in the morning when John Block felt a light
breath pass across his cheeks, roughened and hardened as they were by
the salt sea air.
“Can the wind be getting up?” he murmured as he rose.
He turned towards the south, and wetting his finger in his mouth, held
it up. There was a distinct sensation of coldness, caused by the
evaporation, and now a distant rippling sound became audible.
He turned to the passenger sitting on the middle bench, near one of the
women.
“Mr. Fritz!” he said.
Fritz Robinson raised his head and bent round.
“What do you want, bo’sun?” he asked.
“Look over there--towards the east.”
“What do you think you see?”
“If I’m not mistaken, a kind of rift, like a belt, on the water-line.”
Unmistakably there was a lighter line along the horizon in that
direction. Sky and sea could be distinguished with more definiteness. It
was as if a rent had just been made in the dome of mist and vapour.
“It’s wind!” the boatswain declared.
“Isn’t it only the first beginning of daybreak?” the passenger asked.
“It might be daylight, though it’s very early for it,” John Block
replied, “and again it might be a breeze! I felt something of it in my
beard just now, and look!--it’s twitching still! I’m aware it’s not a
breeze to fill the top-gallant sails, but anyhow it’s more than we’ve
had for the last four and twenty hours. Put your hand to your ear, Mr.
Fritz, and listen; you’ll hear what I heard.”
“You are right,” said the passenger, leaning over the gunwale; “it is
the breeze.”
“And we’re ready for it,” the boatswain replied, “with the foresail
block and tackle. We’ve only got to haul the sheet taut to save all the
wind which is rising.”
“But where will it take us?”
“Wherever it likes,” the boatswain answered; “all I want it to do is to
blow us out of these cursed waters!”
Twenty minutes went by. The breath of wind, which at first was almost
imperceptible, grew stronger. The rippling aft became louder. The boat
made a few rougher motions, not caused by the slow, nauseating swell.
Folds of the sail spread out, fell flat, and opened again, and the sheet
sagged against its cleats. The wind was not strong enough yet to fill
the heavy canvas of the foresail and the jib. Patience was needed, while
the boat’s head was kept to her course as well as might be by means of
one of the sculls.
A quarter of an hour later, progress was marked by a light wake.
Just at this moment one of the passengers who had been lying in the bows
got up and looked at the rift in the clouds to the eastward.
“Is it a breeze?” he asked.
“Yes,” John Block answered. “I think we have got it this time, like a
bird in the hand--and we won’t let go of it!”
The wind was beginning to spread steadily now through the rift, through
which, too, the first gleams of light must come. From south-east to
south-west, the clouds still hung in heavy masses, over three-quarters
of the circumference of the sky. It was still impossible to see more
than a few cables’ lengths from the boat, and beyond that distance no
ship could have been detected.
As the breeze had freshened, the sheet had to be hauled in, the
foresail, whose gear was slackened, hoisted, and the course veered a
point or two, so as to give the jib a hold on the wind.
“We’ve got it; we’ve got it!” the boatswain said cheerily, and the boat,
heeling gently over to starboard, dipped her nose into the first waves.
Little by little the rent in the clouds grew bigger and spread overhead.
The sky assumed a reddish hue. It seemed that the wind might hold to the
present quarter for some little time, and that the period of calms had
come to an end.
Hope of reaching land revived once more, or the alternative hope of
falling in with a ship.
At five o’clock the rent in the clouds was ringed with a collar of vivid
coloured clouds. It was the day, appearing with the suddenness peculiar
to the low latitudes of the tropical regions. Soon purple rays of light
arose above the horizon, like the sticks of a fan. The rim of the solar
disc, heightened by the refraction, touched the horizon line, drawn
clearly now at the end of sky and sea. At once the rays of light caught
on the little clouds which hung in the high heaven, and dyed them every
shade of crimson. But they were stubbornly arrested by the dense vapours
accumulated in the north, and could not break through them. And so the
range of vision, long behind, was still extremely limited in front. The
boat was leaving a long wake behind her now, marked in creamy white upon
the greenish water.
And now the whole sun emerged above the horizon, enormously magnified at
its diameter. No haze dimmed its brilliance, which was insupportable to
the eye. All aboard the boat looked away from it; they only scanned the
north, whither the wind was carrying them. The main question was what
the fog screened from them in that direction.
At length, just before half-past six, one of the passengers seized the
halyards of the foresail and clambered nimbly up to the yardarm, just as
the sun cleared the sky to the eastward with its early rays.
And in a ringing voice he shouted:
“Land!”
CHAPTER II
IN ENGLAND
It was on the 20th of October that the -Unicorn- had left New
Switzerland on her way back to England. On her return, when the
Admiralty sent to take possession of the new colony in the Indian Ocean,
after a brief stop at the Cape of Good Hope, she was to bring back Fritz
and Frank Zermatt, Jenny Montrose and Dolly Wolston. The two brothers
took the berths left vacant by the Wolstons who were now settled on the
island. A comfortable cabin had been placed at the disposal of Jenny and
her little companion Dolly, who was going to join James Wolston and his
wife and child at Cape Town.
After rounding the False Hope Point the -Unicorn- sailed westward before
the wind and came down to the south again, leaving the island of Burning
Rock to her starboard. Before finally leaving New Switzerland Lieutenant
Littlestone decided to reconnoitre its eastern coast as well, in order
to satisfy himself that it really was an isolated island in these seas,
and to form an approximate idea of the size of a colony which would soon
be included among the island dominions of Great Britain. As soon as he
had done this, the corvette, with a fair wind behind her, left the
island to the north-west, after getting little more than a glimpse of
its southern portion through the haze and fog.
Fortune favoured the first few weeks of the voyage. The passengers on
the -Unicorn- were delighted with the weather, as well as with the
cordial treatment which they received from the commander and the other
officers. When they all met at table in the officers’ mess, or under the
awning on the poop, the conversation generally turned upon the wonders
of New Switzerland. If the corvette met with nothing to delay her they
all hoped to see it again within the year.
Fritz and Jenny often talked of Colonel Montrose, and of the gladness
that would be his when he clasped in his arms the daughter whom he had
thought he would never see again. For three years no news had been
received of the -Dorcas-, whose loss with nearly all hands had been
confirmed, by the survivors who had been taken to Sydney. But when they
reached England Jenny would present to her father the man who had
rescued her, and would beg him to bless their union.
As for Frank, though Dolly Wolston was only fourteen, it would not be
without a bitter pang that he would leave her at Cape Town, and keen
would be his longing to come back to her side!
After crossing the Tropic, off the Isle of France, the -Unicorn-
encountered less favourable winds. These delayed her arrival at her port
until the 17th of December, two months after her departure from New
Switzerland.
The corvette came to anchor in the harbour of Cape Town, where she was
to remain for a week.
One of the first visitors to come aboard was James Wolston. He knew that
his father, mother, and two sisters had taken passages on the -Unicorn-,
and his disappointment can be imagined at finding that there was only
one sister for him to meet. Dolly presented Fritz and Frank Zermatt to
him.
“Your father and mother and sister Hannah are living in New Switzerland
now, Mr. Wolston,” Fritz told him; “an unknown island on which my family
was cast twelve years ago, after the wreck of the -Landlord-. They have
decided to remain there and expect you to join them. When she comes back
from Europe the -Unicorn- will take you and your wife and child to our
island, if you are willing to go with us.”
“When is the corvette due back at the Cape?” James Wolston enquired.
“In eight or nine months,” Fritz replied, “and she will go from here to
New Switzerland where the British flag will be flying. My brother Frank
and I have availed ourselves of this opportunity to take back to London
the daughter of Colonel Montrose who, we hope, will consent to come and
settle with her in our second fatherland.”
“And with you too, Fritz dear; for you will have become his son,” Jenny
added, giving him her hand.
“That is my most ardent wish, Jenny dear,” said Fritz.
“And we and our parents do very much want you to bring your family and
settle in New Switzerland,” Dolly Wolston added.
“You must insist on the fact, Dolly,” Frank declared, “that our island
is the most wonderful island that has ever appeared above the sea.”
“James will be the first to agree, when he has seen it,” Dolly answered.
“When once you have set foot in New Switzerland, and stayed at Rock
Castle--”
“And roosted at Falconhurst, eh, Dolly?” said Jenny, laughing.
“Yes, roosted,” the little girl replied; “well, then you will never want
to leave New Switzerland again!”
“You hear Mr. Wolston?” said Fritz.
“I hear, M. Zermatt,” James Wolston answered. “To settle in your island
and open up its first commercial relations with Great Britain is a
proposition that I find peculiarly inviting. My wife and I will talk
about it, and if we decide to go we will wind up our affairs and hold
ourselves in readiness to embark upon the -Unicorn- when she comes back
to Cape Town. I am sure Susan will not hesitate.”
“I will do whatever my husband wishes,” Mrs. Wolston said.
Fritz and Frank shook James Wolston’s hand warmly as Dolly kissed her
sister-in-law.
“While the corvette stays here,” James Wolston then explained, “we
expect you all to accept the hospitality of our house. That will be the
best way to knit our friendship, and we will talk as much as you please
about New Switzerland.”
Naturally the passengers on the -Unicorn- accepted this invitation in
the spirit in which it had been offered.
An hour later Mr. and Mrs. James Wolston received their guests. Fritz
and Frank were given a room between them, and Jenny shared the one
allotted to Dolly, as she had shared her cabin during the voyage.
Mrs. James Wolston was a young woman of twenty-four, gentle,
intelligent, and devoted to her husband. He was an earnest and active
man, very much like his father. They had one boy, Bob, now five years
old, whom they adored.
During the ten days that the -Unicorn- remained in the port, from the
17th to the 27th of December, little was talked about but New
Switzerland, the events of which it had been the stage, the various
works undertaken, and the many contrivances and improvements effected on
the island. The subject was never exhausted. Dolly would expatiate on
all these wonderful things, and Frank would encourage her to go on, and
even find fault with her for not saying enough. Then Jenny Montrose
would embroider the tale, to Fritz’s keen delight.
In a word, the time sped, and James Wolston and his wife quite made up
their minds to leave the Cape for New Switzerland. During the voyage of
the corvette home and out again, Wolston would employ himself winding up
his affairs and realising his capital; he would be ready to start
directly the -Unicorn- reappeared; and he would be one of the first
emigrants to the island.
The last good-byes had to be said at length, with the comforting
reflection that in another eight or nine months they would be at Cape
Town again, and that then they would all put to sea together, outward
bound for New Switzerland. Nevertheless, the parting was a painful one.
Jenny Montrose and Susan Wolston mingled their kisses and tears, to
which Dolly’s were added. The child was much distressed by Frank’s
departure, and his heart, too, was heavy, for he had grown very fond of
her. As he and his brother clasped James Wolston’s hand they could
assure themselves that they were leaving there a true friend indeed.
The -Unicorn- put to sea on the 27th, in somewhat overcast weather. Her
passage was of average length. For several weeks winds varied from
north-west to south-west. The corvette spoke Saint Helena, Ascension,
and the Cape Verde Islands. Then, after passing in sight of the Canaries
and Azores, off the coasts of Portugal and France, she came up the
Channel, rounded the Isle of Wight, and, on the 14th of February,
dropped anchor at Portsmouth.
Jenny Montrose wanted to start at once for London, where her aunt lived.
If the Colonel were on active service she would not find him there,
since the campaign for which he had been recalled from India might have
lasted for several years. But if he had retired, he would have settled
near his sister-in-law, and it would be there that he would at length
set eyes again upon her whom he believed to have perished in the wreck
of the -Dorcas-.
Fritz and Frank offered to escort Jenny to London, whither business
called them also, and Fritz naturally wanted to meet Colonel Montrose
soon. So all three set out the same evening, and arrived in London
during the morning of the 23rd.
But bitter grief fell upon Jenny Montrose. She learned from her aunt
that the colonel had died during his last campaign, without the
happiness of knowing that the daughter whom he had mourned for was still
alive. After coming back from the far waters of the Indian Ocean to
embrace her father, hoping never to part from him again, to present her
saviour to him, and to beg for his consent to their union and his
blessing on it, Jenny would never see him more!
Her distress was great. In vain her aunt lavished on her words of
consolation; in vain Fritz sorrowed with her. The blow was too cruel.
She had never even thought of the possibility that her father might be
dead.
A few days later, in a conversation broken by tears and regrets, Jenny
said to him:
“Fritz, dear Fritz, we have just experienced the bitterest of
misfortunes, you and I. If you have not changed your mind at all--”
“Oh, Jenny, my darling!” Fritz exclaimed.
“Yes, I know,” said Jenny, “and my father would have been happy to call
you his son. I am sure he would have wanted to go with us and share our
life in the new English colony. But I must give up that happiness. I am
alone in the world now, and have only myself to depend upon! Alone? No,
no! You are there, Fritz.”
“Jenny,” said the young man, “the whole of my life shall be devoted to
your happiness.”
“And mine to yours, Fritz dear! But since my father is no longer here to
give us his consent, since I have no near relations living, and since
yours is the only family I can call my own--”
“You have belonged to it three years already, Jenny dear, ever since the
day when I found you on Burning Rock.”
“I love them all, and they love me, Fritz! Well, in a few months more we
shall be with them all again; we shall be back--”
“Married, Jenny?”
“Yes, Fritz, if you wish it, since you have your father’s consent and my
aunt will not refuse me hers.”
“Jenny, dear Jenny!” Fritz exclaimed, falling on his knees beside her.
“Our plans will not be changed at all, and I shall take back my wife to
my father and mother.”
Jenny Montrose remained henceforth in her aunt’s house, where Fritz and
Frank came every day to see her. Meanwhile all the necessary
arrangements were made for the celebration of the marriage within the
briefest time that the law permitted.
But there was other business of some importance to be attended to,
business which had been the purpose of the two brothers in coming to
Europe.
There was the sale of the various articles of value collected on the
island, the coral gathered on Whale Island, the pearls taken from the
bay, the nutmegs and the vanilla. M. Zermatt had not been mistaken about
their market value. They produced the considerable sum of eight thousand
pounds sterling.
When one remembered that the banks of Pearl Bay had been no more than
skimmed, that coral was to be found on many parts of the coast, that
nutmegs and vanilla could be produced in large quantities, and that
there were many other treasures in New Switzerland, one had to
acknowledge that the colony was destined for a height of prosperity
which set it in the foremost of the over-sea dominions of Great Britain.
In accordance with M. Zermatt’s instructions part of the sum realised
from the sale of these articles was to be spent upon things required to
complete the stock at Rock Castle and the farms in the Promised Land.
The rest, about three-quarters of the whole sum, and the ten thousand
pounds coming from Colonel Montrose’s estate, were deposited in the Bank
of England, upon which M. Zermatt would be able to draw in the future as
he might require, thanks to the communication which would soon be
established with the capital.
Restitution was made of the various jewels and monies belonging to the
families of those who had been lost with the -Landlord-, who had been
traced after enquiry.
Finally, a month after the arrival of Fritz Zermatt and Jenny Montrose
in London, their marriage was celebrated there by the chaplain of the
corvette. The -Unicorn- had brought them as an engaged couple, and would
take them back to New Switzerland a married couple.
All these events excited a considerable interest throughout Great
Britain in the family which had been abandoned for a dozen years on an
unknown island in the Indian Ocean, and in Jenny’s adventures and her
stay on Burning Rock. The story which had been written by Jean Zermatt
appeared in the English and foreign newspapers, and under the title of
“The Swiss Family Robinson,” it was destined to a fame equal to that won
already by the immortal work of Daniel Defoe.
The consequence of all this was that the Admiralty decided to take
possession of New Switzerland. Moreover, this new possession had some
very considerable advantages to offer. The island occupied an important
position in the east of the Indian Ocean, near the entrance to the Sunda
seas, on the road to the Far East. Seven hundred and fifty miles at most
separated it from the western coast of Australia. The sixth part of the
world, discovered by the Dutch in 1605, visited by Abel Tasman in 1644
and by Captain Cook in 1774, was destined to become one of England’s
principal dominions. Thus the Admiralty could but congratulate itself on
its acquisition of an island so near that continent.
And thus the despatch of the -Unicorn- to its waters was decided upon.
The corvette would set out again in a few months under the command of
Lieutenant Littlestone, promoted captain on this occasion. Fritz and
Jenny Zermatt were to sail in her with Frank, and also a few colonists,
pending the time when other emigrants, in larger numbers, would sail in
other ships to the same destination.
It was arranged that the corvette should put in at the Cape to pick up
James and Susan and Dolly Wolston.
The lengthy stay of the -Unicorn- at Portsmouth was due to the fact that
repairs of some magnitude had become absolutely necessary after her
voyage from Sydney to Europe.
Fritz and Frank did not spend the whole of this time in London or in
England. They and Jenny regarded it as a duty to visit Switzerland, so
as to be able to take to M. and Mme. Zermatt some news of their native
land.
So they went first to France, and spent a week in Paris. The Empire had
just ended at this date, as also had the long wars with Great Britain.
Fritz and Frank arrived in Switzerland, the country which they had
almost forgotten, so young had they been when they left it, and from
Geneva they went to the canton of Appenzel.
Of their family none remained except a few distant relatives of whom M.
and Mme. Zermatt knew little. But the arrival of the two young men
caused a great sensation in the Swiss Republic. Everybody knew the story
of the survivors of the wreck of the -Landlord-, and knew the island now
on which they had found refuge. Thus, although their fellow countrymen
were little inclined to run the risks involved in emigration, several
declared their intention of joining those colonists to whom New
Switzerland promised a cordial welcome.
It was not without a pang that Fritz and Frank left the land of their
origin. Even if they might hope to visit it again in the future, that
was a hope which M. and Mme. Zermatt, advancing now in years, would
hardly realise.
Crossing France, Fritz and Jenny and Frank returned to England.
Preparations for the sailing of the -Unicorn- were drawing to a close,
and the corvette would be ready to set sail in the last few days of
June.
Both Fritz and Frank were received with flattering attention by the
Lords of the Admiralty. England was grateful to Jean Zermatt for having
of his own free will offered Captain Littlestone immediate possession of
his island.
As has been explained, when the corvette left New Switzerland, the
greatest portion of the island was still unexplored, save the district
of the Promised Land, the littoral on the north, and part of the
littoral on the east as far as Unicorn Bay. Captain Littlestone was
therefore to complete its survey both on the west and south and also in
the interior. In a few months more, several ships would be fitted out to
take emigrants and the materials required in colonisation and to put the
island in a proper state of defence. Then regular communication would be
established between Great Britain and those distant waters of the Indian
Ocean.
On the 27th of June the -Unicorn- was ready to weigh anchor, and only
waited for Fritz and Jenny and Frank. On the 28th the three arrived at
Portsmouth, whither the stores purchased on behalf of the Zermatt family
had been sent in advance.
They were warmly welcomed aboard the corvette by Captain Littlestone,
whom they had had one or two opportunities of meeting in London. How
happy they were in the thought of seeing James and Susan Wolston again
at Cape Town, and also the charming little Dolly, whom Frank had kept
constantly supplied with news, and good news too, of everybody.
In the morning of the 29th of June, the -Unicorn- left Portsmouth with a
fair wind, flying at the peak the English flag which was to be planted
upon the shores of New Switzerland.
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