Shipwrecked Six Pack (Illustrated)

Chapter V-3

"Make your mind easy, my wife," said I. "I have not the remotest intention of introducing the dirty, ridiculous habit of snuffing into your family! Please to treat my graters with respect, however, because they are to be the means of providing you with the first fresh bread you have seen this many a long day."

"What possible connection can there be between bread and tobacco-graters? I cannot imagine what you mean, and to talk of bread where there are no ovens is only tantalizing."

"Ah, you must not expect real loaves," said I. "But on these flat iron plates I can bake flat cakes or scones, which will be excellent bread; I mean to try at once what I can do with Ernest's roots. And first of all, I want you to make a nice strong canvas bag."

This the mother willingly undertook to do, but she evidently had not much faith in my powers as a baker, and I saw her set on a good potful of potatoes before beginning to work, as though to make sure of a meal without depending on my bread.

Spreading a piece of sailcloth on the ground, I summoned my boys to set to work. Each took a grater and a supply of well-washed manioc root, and when all were seated round the cloth—"Once, twice, thrice! Off!" cried I, beginning to rub a root as hard as I could against the rough surface of my grater. My example was instantly followed by the whole party, amid bursts of merriment, as each remarked the funny attitude and odd gestures of his neighbors while vehemently rubbing, rasping, grating, and grinding down the roots allotted to him. No one was tempted by the look of the flour to stop and taste it, for in truth it looked much like wet sawdust.

"Cassava bread is highly esteemed in many parts of the New World, and I have heard that some Europeans there prefer it to the wheaten bread of their own country. There are various species of manioc. One sort grows quickly, and its roots ripen in a very short time. Another kind is of somewhat slower growth. The roots of the third kind do not come to maturity for two years. The two first are poisonous, if eaten raw, yet they are preferred to the third, which is harmless, because they are so much more fruitful, and the flour produced is excellent, if the scrapings are carefully pressed."

"What is the good of pressing them, father?" inquired Ernest.

"It is in order to express the sap, which contains poison. The dry pith is wholesome and nourishing. Still, I do not mean to taste my cakes, until I have tried the effect on our fowls and the ape."

By this time our supply of roots being reduced to damp powder, the canvas bag was filled with it, and tying it tightly up, I attempted to squeeze it, but soon found that mechanical aid was necessary in order to express the moisture. My arrangements for this purpose were as follows: A strong, straight beam was made flat on one side, smooth planks were laid across two of the lower roots of our tree; on these we placed the sack, above the sack another plank, and over that the long beam; one end was passed under a root near the sack, the other projected far forward. And to that we attached all the heaviest weights we could think of, such as an anvil, iron bars, and masses of lead. The consequent pressure on the bag was enormous, and the sap flowed from it to the ground.

"Will this stuff keep any time?" inquired my wife, who came to see how we were getting on. "Or must all this great bagful be used at once? In that case we shall have to spend the whole of to-morrow in baking cakes."

"Not at all," I replied; "once dry, the flour in barrels will keep fresh a long time. We shall use a great deal of this, however, as you shall see."

"Do you think we might begin now, father?" said Fritz. "There does not seem the least moisture remaining."

"Certainly," said I. "But I shall only make one cake to-day for an experiment; we must see how it agrees with Master Knips and the hens before we set up a bake-house in regular style."

I took out a couple of handfuls of flour for this purpose, and with a stick loosened and stirred the remainder, which I intended should be again pressed. While an iron plate, placed over a good fire, was getting hot, I mixed the meal with water and a little salt, kneaded it well, and forming a thickish cake, laid it on the hot plate, when one side presently becoming a nice yellow-brown color, it was turned and was quickly baked.

It smelt so delicious that the boys quite envied the two hens and the monkey, who were selected as the subjects of this interesting experiment, and they silently watched them gobbling up the bits of cake I gave them, until Fritz turned to me, saying, "Suppose the cake is poisonous, what effect will it have on the creatures? Will they be stupefied, or will they suffer pain?"

"That depends upon the nature of the poison. Some cause violent pain, as colchicum, hellebore, and aconite. Others produce stupefaction and paralysis, as opium, hemlock, and prussic acid; while others again, as strychnine, are followed by violent convulsions, or, as belladonna, by delirium. The effects of course vary according to the quantity taken, and such remedies should be applied as will best counteract the effect of each poison: emetics in any case, to remove as much as possible of the noxious substance, combined with oils and mucilaginous drinks to soothe and protect the stomach in case of irritants; stimulants, such as spirits, ammonia, or strong coffee to rouse from the stupor of the narcotics; and sedative drugs, which are perhaps in themselves poisons, to counteract the over stimulation of the nerves caused by the convulsant poisons. But now let us think no more of poisons; here is supper ready and we need not be afraid to eat roast penguin and potatoes."

No sooner said than done; we left the fowls picking up the least crumb they could find of the questionable food, and assembled to enjoy our evening meal. The potatoes were, as usual, excellent, the penguin was really not so bad as I expected, although fishy in taste and very tough.

Next morning every one expressed the tenderest concern as to the health of Knips and the hens; and lively pleasure was in every countenance when Jack, who ran first to make the visit inquiry, brought news of their perfect good health and spirits.

No time was now to be lost, and the bread-baking commenced in earnest. A large fire was kindled, the plates heated, the meal made into cakes, each of the boys busily preparing his own, and watching the baking most eagerly. Mistakes occurred, of course; some of the bread was burnt, some not done enough; but a pile of nice, tempting cakes was at length ready, and with plenty of good milk we breakfasted right royally, and in high spirits at our success.

Soon after, while feeding the poultry with the fragments of the repast, I observed that the captive penguins were quite at ease among them and as tame as the geese and ducks; their bonds were therefore loosed, and they were left as free as the other fowls.