An American Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe [summer books .TXT] 📗
- Author: Daniel Defoe
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He drew out some of the coals and wood, but afterwards gradually increased the fire again. He could not, however, get the pots hot enough to turn red He brought the dryest and hardest wood, but could not succeed in getting them hot enough to turn red. At length he was tired out and was compelled to give it up. When the pots were cool he tried to boil water in one. It was no better than the sun dried one. He saw that he must provide some way to get the pots much hotter than he could in the open air He resolved to make an oven of stones large enough to take in the wood as well as the pots. It must be above ground so that there might be plenty of draught for the fire. With great labor, he pried up and carried together flat stones enough to make an oven about four feet high with a chimney at one side. He had put in the center a stone table on which he could place three quite large pots. He left an opening in one side that could be partially closed by a large, flat stone.
He worked eagerly and at the end of the second day he was ready to fire his oven. He first carried together a good quantity of dry wood, then he put in his pots and laid the wood around them. In a short time he had a very hot fire. He kept this up all day and until late at night.
The next morning he went to his oven and found his pots were a beautiful red. He drew out the fire and allowed them to cool slowly. Then he filled one with water and set it over the fire to heat it. Before many minutes the water was boiling and Robinson had another reason to be thankful. He wept for joy. His patient labors had brought their rewards. No prince could feel as happy as Robinson now. He had overcome all difficulties. Starting with nothing but his hands, he was now able to supply all his wants. “If I only had a companion now,” he thought, “I would have nothing further to wish as long as I stay on the island.”
[Illustration: SOME OF ROBINSON’S DISHES]
XXXI ROBINSON AS BAKERNow that Robinson had fire, he determined to try to make bread. He had seen the servants at home make bread many times, but he had not observed closely and knew next to nothing about the way bread is made. He knew he must in some way grind the corn into flour, but how could he do this? He had no mill nor any tools with which to crush the corn.
He first tried to find a stone large and hard enough out of which he might hollow a vessel or kind of mortar. He thought he could put the corn into this mortar and grind it by means of another stone or pestle. It was with great difficulty that he could get a stone of suitable size and form. After several days’ trial he at last got one cut out from some layers of rock near the shore. He made a hollow place in it. Then he took a smaller oblong shaped rock for his pestle.
He took great pride in these new tools. “I shall soon be a stone-cutter,” he said to himself, “as well as a farmer and potter.” But his stone mortar was a failure. The rock was too soft. Every time he thrust the pestle down, it loosened small pieces of the stone vessel. These mixed with the ground corn or flour and made it unfit to eat. There was no way to separate the sand from the crushed grain.
He resolved then to try to make a mortar and pestle of hard wood. Now that he had fire, he could do this, though it cost him many a hard day’s work. He found not far away a log of very hard wood. By building a fire at the right distance from one end he was able to separate a piece of the log. He rolled this to his cave and made a good-sized hollow in it by burning. This pestle was not so difficult to make. He took a limb or branch of an ironwood tree, burned it in two at the place to make it the right length. By burning also he rounded one end and then he was ready for the grinding. After cleaning his mortar and pestle carefully he placed some corn in the hollow and soon had some fine yellow meal or flour without any grit or sand in it.
His next care was to separate the coarse outer husk or covering of the kernel from the finer parts that make the meal. He had no sieve. His net was too coarse. It let both bran and meal go through. “I must make a net or cloth fine enough to sift or bolt my flour,” said he. Such was now his skill in spinning and weaving that this was not hard to do. He had soon woven in his loom a piece of fine netting which allowed the meal to shake through, but held back the coarse bran or outer husk of the kernel. Out of the dry corn that he had stored up he now made quite a quantity of flour. This he kept tightly covered in a large earthen pot or jar that he had made for this purpose. “I must keep all my food clean and protect it from the ants and other insects as well as dust and damp,” he thought.
His preparations were now nearly made. He had already his stove of flat stones. On this he could set his pots to boil water, cook rice, and meat, but it would not do for baking a loaf of bread of any thickness. He must have an oven or enclosed place into which he could put the loaf to bake it. By the use of flat stones he soon rebuilt his stove so as to have an oven that did fine service. Now it was mixing the dough that claimed his attention. He had of course no yeast to make raised or light bread. He poured goats’ milk on the flour and kneaded it into a thick dough. He did not forget to add salt. He placed his loaf in a shallow earthen pan he had made for this purpose. After the fire had heated the stones of his oven through, he put in his loaf and soon was enjoying a meal of corn bread and meat stew.
Robinson soon tried to make cocoa from the beans of the cocoa palm that grew in the island. This with good rich goats’ milk in it he thought the best drink in the world. He often thought of making sugar from the sugar cane plant he had discovered in the island. But the labor of squeezing out the juice was too great. He could think of no way to do this without the help of horses or oxen.
XXXII ROBINSON AS FISHERMANRobinson was now eager to use his fire and cooking vessels. He had noticed with hungry eyes fine large fish in the creek near his cave. But he had never taken the trouble to catch any. “What is the use?” he thought. “I cannot eat them raw.” It was different now and he began to devise ways of making a catch. How he longed for a fish-hook, such as he had so often used when loitering along the Hudson River! “But a fish-hook is not to be thought of,” he said to himself, “unless I can make one of bone.” He went down to the brook and searched long for a fish-bone that he might make use of for this purpose. He found nothing.
“I must try something else,” he thought. He remembered the nets he used to see along the Hudson and wondered if he could not make a small one to pull through the water and thus catch the fish.
He had now a better source of fibre for weaving and for spinning into lines and ropes. He had discovered this when he was trying to find a good strong thread or yarn with which to bind the coils of his grass-made baskets together. He obtained fibre in great abundance from the century-like plant. He found if he broke off the long leaves of this plant and allowed them to decay there remained a long, tough fibrous substance out of which strong cords could be twisted or yarn made for weaving a coarse cloth or netting.
Out of this he spun yarn thread to make a net about three or four feet by two feet. He fastened cords to four corners of this, tied them to a long pole, and was now prepared to test his plan for catching fish.
The brook he found was too shallow for him to catch fish in this way. At the sight of him and his net, they scurried away to deep water. Neither could he succeed in the shallow water along the shore. “I must wade out as far as I can,” he said to himself, “and draw the net through the water.”
As he did this he was surprised at the many forms of sea life, new to him, that he saw. He, however, was careful and watchful. He walked along near the shore to a point where some, rocks showed above the surface. As he looked ahead he saw the single eye of a giant cuttle-fish glaring at him from among the rocks. It was thrusting out its long arms towards him. He drew back quickly, but as he did so he was terrified to hear the snap of some huge creature’s jaws near him. A great shark had seen him and had thrown himself on his back to seize him in his rows of sharp teeth, but was prevented reaching him by the shallowness of the water.
Robinson was too much terrified to continue longer his attempt at fishing. He went back to his cave with only a few small ones, not worth the trouble of dressing for his dinner.
The next day undismayed he tried again. He succeeded in drawing in some very beautiful large fish. Their sides shone as burnished gold and silver. “Now,” he thought, “I will have a feast.” He carried them home, carefully cleaned and dressed them, seasoned them with his salt, and broiled them over his fire. Imagine his disappointment when they proved unfit to eat. Their flesh was coarse and tough and ill-tasting. He saw that the catching of fish for his table was a more difficult thing than he thought it. He must not only catch fish, but catch ones that could be eaten. He could only tell the good from the bad by trying them.
He was more fortunate in his next venture. He was going along the shore at the mouth of the creek which ran near his cave when he noticed a group of fishes, dark bluish above with silvery sides. The largest of them were about two feet long. They were feeding on the bottom in the brackish water at the mouth of the creek, which at its mouth opened out into quite a little bay or inlet. They would
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