CHAPTER LX

Emily’s own Story—Return to Felsenheim with Military Honours—The Winter Season Once More

The story of Fritz had detained us longer than I had anticipated, as upon looking at my watch, I discovered that it was midnight. The audience were not at all sleepy, however, but as we had to execute labours on the morrow, which would require strength and agility, I thought that if they sat up all night they would be over-wearied the next day; I therefore deemed it necessary to cut short the narration, deferring its completion till a more convenient time. This decision was received with a very bad grace; but it was positive, so each one sought his accustomed resting-place, either on shore or in the pinnace.

The next morning, when all the family were assembled for breakfast, the enterprise and courage of Fritz became the subject of conversation; this naturally brought on the story of last night, and I was obliged to consent that Emily’s history should open the day. I wanted the dear girl herself to tell it; but she was so timid, though at the same time so lively, busied in her domestic occupations, that I could do nothing with her. Fritz was therefore entreated to act as her proxy, and resume his recital.

“As soon as I was able to understand my new sister,” said he, “I asked her by what course of events she had been thrown on the desert coast where I now found her.

“She told me that she was born in India, of English parents, and that her father, after having served as major in a British regiment, obtained the command of an important English colony. The commandant, Montrose, for that was the name of Emily’s father, had the misfortune to lose his wife only three years after his marriage; and, profoundly afflicted by this loss, all his affections centred in their only child. He took charge of her education, and devoted all the time he could spare from his official duties, in developing the precious qualities which nature had endowed his dear daughter with. Not content with providing her with every means for mental improvement, he endeavoured to make her a strong, healthy woman, capable of facing and resisting danger. Such was Emily’s education up to the age of sixteen; she managed a fowling-piece as well as a needle, and rode as gracefully and firmly as the best cavalry officer, and shone resplendent in her father’s brilliant saloons.

“Major Montrose, having been appointed colonel, was ordered to return with part of his regiment to England. This circumstance forced him to separate himself from his daughter, as naval discipline did not allow women on board a line-of-battle ship in time of war. It was arranged, however, that she should sail the same day that he did, in another ship, the captain of which was an old friend of her father’s, and who would take every care of his daughter. The voyage at its commencement was prosperous and agreeable, but before many days a terrible tempest arose. The ship was thrown off her course, and a furious wind drove her down upon our rocky coast; two shallops were launched upon the angry waves, and a chance of safety offered to the shipwrecked. Emily found a place in the smallest—the captain was in the other. The storm continuing, the boats were soon separated, and the one that contained Emily was broken in pieces, and the poor girl alone, of all the crew, was fortunate enough to escape death. The waves carried her, half fainting, to the foot of the rock where I discovered her. She crawled under the shade of a projecting rock, and, sinking on the sand, slept for four-and-twenty hours. There she passed several days, abandoned to dark despair, with no nourishment but some birds’ eggs, which she found on the rocks. At the end of that time, the sun reappearing and the sea growing calm, the poor castaway thought of the crew in the large shallop and, in the hope that they might see her, she resolved to establish signals of distress. As she wore a midshipman’s uniform on board ship, by order of her father, she had a box in her pocket containing a flint, knife, and other articles. She picked up some pieces of wood which the sea had thrown on the sand, carried them to the summit of the rock, and there kindled a fire, which she never allowed to go out. You can easily imagine how drearily passed the first days of Emily’s exile; she had to contend against all the horrors of hunger and the desert. How thankful she felt for the semi-masculine education that her father had given her: it had endowed her with courage and resolution far beyond her sex. She comprehended the whole extent of her situation, and turning to heaven, she placed her trust in God and hoped on. She built a hut, fished, hunted, tamed birds—among others a cormorant, which she taught to catch fish—in one word, she lived alone, with no earthly succour, for three long dreary years.”

Fritz stopped; his eyes fell upon the heroine of his story, who could hardly conceal her embarrassment.

“My child,” said I, “you are but another proof that God never withholds His aid from those who desire it. That which you have done for three years a poor Swiss family have done for ten, and heavenly aid has never been withheld from them.”

I allowed some little time for commentaries on Emily’s history; but, as I had resolved that the day should be an active one, I soon gave the signal for work. The manufacture of lime had succeeded. I submitted some pieces to the proof of water, and found it excellent.

Toward evening the pinnace was laden with all that we could carry away, and we talked seriously of returning to Felsenheim. The poetic description we had given concerning the salt grotto, and our aërial palace at Falcon’s Nest, had rendered Emily exceedingly curious to judge for herself concerning all these wonders. The next day we weighed anchor just as dawn was breaking; the sail of the pinnace fluttered gaily in the fresh breeze, and Fritz’s cajack, containing himself and Francis, went before us as pilots. When we hove in sight of Prospect Hill, I proposed to stop and take a look at the farmhouse; but Fritz and his brother asked permission of me to go on home, so that they could have all things prepared for us. I consented, and they set out.

From Prospect Hill we sailed to Shark Island, where we secured, in passing, a fine quantity of the soft wool of the Angora rabbits. From Shark Island we directed our course toward Felsenheim, and we could just distinguish it when a salute of ten guns greeted our ears. This produced a very good effect, doctor Ernest only regretting that the salute was not composed of an odd number of guns. “An even number,” said he, “is entirely contrary to general usage.”

We returned the polite salute of our two artillerymen by a salvo of eleven guns, the execution of which was undertaken and performed by Jack and Ernest in a style that would have done honour to a practised cannoneer. Soon after we saw Fritz and Francis coming toward us in their canoe; they received us at the entrance of the bay, and followed us to the shore. They landed before us, and the moment Emily’s foot touched the sand, a hurrah resounded through the air, and Fritz, springing forward, presented her his hand, like a gallant cavalier, and led her up to the portico of the grotto. There a new spectacle awaited us: a table was spread in the middle of the gallery, and loaded with all the fruits that the country produced. Bananas, figs, guavas, oranges, rose up in perfumed heaps upon flat calabashes. All the vases, cocoa-nut cups and ostrich-eggs mounted on turned wooden pedestals, urns of painted porcelain, all were filled with hydromel and milk; while a large dish of fried fish, and a huge roast turkey, stuffed with truffles, formed the solid part of the repast. A double festoon of flowers surrounded the canopy above the table, sustaining a large medallion on which was inscribed, “Welcome, fair Emily Montrose!” It was a complete holiday, and as pompous a reception as our means would allow. Emily sat down to table between my wife and myself; Ernest and Jack also took their places; while the two caterers of the feast, each with a napkin on his arm, did the honours of the table.

We passed from the table to the interior of the grotto, and our young companion had the apartment next ours for her use. She could not restrain her admiration at the effects our industry had accomplished; she was astonished that a man and four children could have effected so much. The chateau in the tree at Falcon’s Nest next received a visit; it had fallen into decay, from neglect, and we passed a whole week in fitting it up. We then set out for Waldegg to gather our rice and other grains, for the season was advancing, and some violent showers already warned us to hasten our preparations for the coming winter. Emily gave proof, during these labours, of an intelligence and good will which rendered her assistance very valuable; and she inspired everybody with such zeal and industry, that when the winter set in we were all prepared for it. Ten years had accustomed us to the terrible winters, and we calmly listened to the wind and storm as it raged furiously without. We had reserved for the winter several sedentary occupations, in which our new companion proved her skill and industry; she excelled in weaving and plaiting straw, osiers, etc.; and, under her direction, we made some light straw hats for summer, some elegant baskets, and conveniently arranged game-bags. My wife was delighted with her adopted daughter, and Ernest found a companion, whose fine education rendered her a conversable and intelligent woman. In fact, Emily had become to my wife and myself a fifth child, and a beloved sister for my sons.