CHAPTER LI

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.