Jethou - or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles

Ernest R. (Ernest Richard) Suffling

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• Publié par: cotur
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 12
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Jethou, by E. R. Suffling This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Jethou or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles Author: E. R. Suffling Release Date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17618] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JETHOU*** E-text prepared by Steven Gibbs, Martin Pettit, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) JETHOU OR CRUSOE LIFE IN THE CHANNEL ISLES ILLUSTRATED BY DRAWINGS PREPARED FROM AUTHOR'S OWN SKETCHES BY E. R. SUFFLING Author of "History and Legends of the Broad District," "How to Organize a Cruise on the Broads," "Afloat in a Gipsy Van," etc. THIRD EDITION LONDON JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C. [All Rights Reserved ] 1898 THE ISLAND OF JETHOU CONTENTS. PREFACE. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. CHAPTER I. My birth and home—My pretty cousin—Accident to the "Kittywich" —Journey to Guernsey—Pleading to become a Crusoe—My wish granted —Outfit secured—Sail to Jethou CHAPTER II. I take possession of the Island—Landing stores—A grand carousal —Farewell—Alone CHAPTER III. First thoughts and impressions—A tour of the Island and description CHAPTER IV. Farming operations—I make a plough and a cart—A donkey hunt—Dumb helpers—My live stock CHAPTER V. Canoeing—Fish of the place—The ormer and limpet—A curious fishing adventure—Queer captures from the sea—Rock fish—Construct a fish pond and water-mill CHAPTER VI. "Flapp," the gull—Surgical operation—The gull who refused to die —Taxidermy extraordinary—Feathered friends—Snakes CHAPTER VII. I build a curious "box-boat"—An unpleasant night at sea—My Sunday service—The poem, "Alexander Selkirk"—Its applicability to my lot CHAPTER VIII. A trip to St. Sampson's harbour—A horrid porcine murder—A voyage round Sark—Nearly capsized—Trip round Guernsey—The pepper-box —Curiosity of tourists CHAPTER IX. Harvest operations—Explore La Creux Derrible, and nearly lose my life —Crusoe on crutches—An extraordinary discovery—Kill a grampus—Oil on troubled waters—Make an overflow pump CHAPTER X. A storm and a wreck—The castaway—Dead—A night of horror—The boathouse destroyed—A burial at sea CHAPTER XI. Climate in Winter—Vision of my father—A warning voice—Supernatural manifestations—The falling rock—My life saved by my dog CHAPTER XII. A fairy pool—Wonders of the deep—Portrait of a poet—The cave of Fauconnaire—A letter from home and my answer to it CHAPTER XIII. Another terrible storm—Loss of the "Yellow Boy"—A ketch wrecked—I rescue a man from the sea, badly injured—He recovers CHAPTER XIV. Work and song—Sunday service—Build a larger boat, the "Anglo-Franc" —Collecting wreckage—Commence a jetty—Our cookery—Blasting operations—The opening banquet CHAPTER XV. Trawling for fish and dredging for curios—Some remarkable finds—A ghastly resurrection—The mysterious paper—The hieroglyphic—A dangerous fall—Hors de combat—Attempts to unravel the paper CHAPTER XVI. Yarns: The cabbages which hung their heads—The raft of spruce —Voyage of the "Dewdrop"—A lucky family—A deep, deep draught—The maire's cat CHAPTER XVII. The Will again—Searching for a clue to the paper—Barbe Rouge's Will —A probable clue—Hopes and doubts—Perplexed—A memorable trawl by moonlight—A real clue at last—The place of the skull found CHAPTER XVIII. Digging for the treasure—A noonday rest—The ghastly tenant of the treasure house—We find the treasure—An account of what we discovered CHAPTER XIX. Preparing to leave—A letter home—We lengthen and enlarge the "AngloFranc"—Re-christen her "Happy Return"—Love at first sight—Victualling and stowing cargo—Pretty Jeannette—The long voyage—Incidents en route—Vegetarians, and their diet—Yarmouth reached—Fresh-water navigation—My native heath CHAPTER XX. I surprise the old folks at home—All well—Is Priscilla false—We meet —The missing letters—A snake in the grass—Dreams of vengeance CHAPTER XXI. The "Happy Return" inspected—More of my father's ghost—Unpacking the treasure—Seek an interview with Walter Johnson—Two letters CHAPTER XXII. M. Oudin arrives—The Wedding Day—Division of the spoil—Alec returns to Jethou—Wedding gifts—The end APPENDIX. A few words about the Channel Isles PREFACE. As the writer does not pretend to possess what is termed literary style, he would ask the indulgence of the reader in any little slip of the pen which may occur in these pages, as it is not every Crusoe who can command the facile quill, the pure style, or the lively imagination of a Daniel Defoe, to narrate his adventures. It must be borne in mind that the island of Juan Fernandez possessed many natural features, and a far greater area than Jethou can boast of, and therefore more scope for the development of incidents and descriptive embellishment. Doubtless many of the adventures here placed before the public will appear puny beside the exploits of the original Crusoe; but it must be taken into consideration that the author does not, like Defoe's hero, revel in the impossible. At the same time it may be noted that the adventures detailed are of a sufficiently exciting kind as to be above any suspicion of dulness. Juan Fernandez lies about four hundred miles from the nearest land, and it is therefore very difficult to imagine from whence the savages came who were about to convert Friday into a fricassee. The Friday of our story, y'clept Monday, came to Jethou in a natural if in an exciting manner, and it will be found that everything else in the narrative, if not an exact account of what really did happen, is at least feasible. It is in fact a practicable narrative, served up in a plain, ungarnished form, except that to make it more palatable to the general reader a little love-story has been introduced towards the conclusion, which, it is hoped, sustains the interest right to the last, and makes the volume end as all good books should, by allowing the principal actors to "live happily ever after." E. R. SUFFLING (H ARRY N ILFORD ). Blomfield Lodge, Portsdown Road, London, W. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. THE ISLAND OF JETHOU. THE OLD H OME AT BARTON MAP OF THE ISLAND OF JETHOU PLAN OF H OMESTEAD MY PLOUGH AN ANTEDILUVIAN C HARIOT "I WAS SWAMPED IN A MOMENT" THE "YELLOW BOY," PLANS, ETC. A PORCINE MURDER R OCKS AT SOUTH END OF SARK THE MAIN PATH OF THE ISLAND LA C REUX D ERRIBLE TOO LATE! A GHOSTLY VISITANT "ALONG THE R UGGED C LIFF PATH" R ESCUE OF ALEC D UCAS THE PUZZLING D OCUMENT A TERRIBLE FALL A TERRIBLE FALL THE TENANT OF THE TREASURE H OUSE LENGTHENING THE "ANGLO -FRANC" [Pg 11] JETHOU; OR, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles. CHAPTER I. MY BIRTH AND HOME—MY PRETTY COUSIN—ACCIDENT TO THE "KITTYWICH"—JOURNEY TO GUERNSEY—PLEADING TO BECOME A CRUSOE—MY WISH GRANTED—OUTFIT SECURED—SAIL TO JETHOU. That Crusoe of Crusoes, Alexander Selkirk, as I am aware, commences his entertaining history with his birth and parentage, and as I am also a Crusoe, although a very minor adventurer, I may as well follow the precedent and declare my nativity. I was born at the little village of Barton in Norfolk, at the time the guns at Balaclava were mowing down our red coats and tars, where my father had a small house facing the Broad. It was a comfortable old two-storied building, with a thatched roof, through which a couple of dormer windows peered out, like two eyes, over the beautiful green lawn which sloped to the reed-fringed water. My father was in very comfortable circumstances, as he was owner of six large fishing vessels hailing from the port of Great Yarmouth, some ten or twelve miles distant as the crow flies. [Pg 12] THE OLD HOME AT BARTON. Being born, as it were, on the water (for a distance of a hundred yards matters but little), I was naturally from my birth a young water dog, although they tell me that for some months after I made my bow to the world, milk also played a prominent part in my career. As I grew into boyhood, of course I had my rowing punt and my rod, and thus gained my first taste for a solitary life, as it frequently happened that I would be away from sunrise to sunset on some little expedition to one or other of the neighbouring Broads. By and bye came the time when I arrived at that rare age for enjoyment, fourteen years. This birthday, the fourteenth, was a red-letter day in my life, as I received two presents, which were in my eyes very valuable ones; my uncle presented me with a beautiful little light gun, and my father handed me over his small sailing boat. Now I was a man! I felt it, and I knew it, and so did my schoolmates, for there was not one of them, who at some time or other, had not felt the effects of my prowess in a striking manner. Still, the drubbings I gave were not always to my credit, for I was a very big and strong lad for my age, and my self-imposed tasks of long rowing trips and other athletic exercises, naturally made me powerful in the arms and chest. Of my brain power I shall say little, as my mind was ever bent on sporting topics when it should have been diving into English history or vulgar fractions. Some new device in fishing gear was always of more consequence to me than any inquiry as to the name of the executioner who gave Charles the I. "chops for breakfast," as we youngsters used to say, when we irreverently spoke of the decollation of his Majesty. Still, somehow I stumbled through my schooling till I was sixteen, when I was sent off to my father's office on the Quay at Yarmouth to take charge of the [Pg 14] [Pg 13] books, which were an everlasting humdrum record of herrings and the various trawl fish which came in so frequently in our vessels. Between whiles I had plenty of spare time, and whenever a few hours were allowed me, I could not keep out of my boat, so that if the sea happened to be fai