And so, although he did possess the pinnace, M. Zermatt would never have dared, however ardent his desire to return to his native country, to trust his family to so fragile a vessel and expose them to the dangers of the violent cyclones and tornadoes common in these seas.

 

            In the predicament in which they now found themselves, the shipwrecked family could only look to Providence for help. At this date, sailing vessels making for the Dutch colonies hardly touched this part of the Indian Ocean. The western coast of Australia was almost unknown, offered the greatest difficulties in the way of landing, and had no geographical or commercial importance.

 

            At the outset the family were content to live under canvas at Tent Home, near the right bank of the water-course which they had named Jackal River, in commemoration of an attack made upon them by those carnivorous animals. But the heat, untempered by the sea-breeze, became stifling between these lofty rocks. So M. Zermatt resolved to settle upon the portion of the coast which ran south and north, a little beyond Deliverance Bay, as the place was significantly named.

 

            In the course of an excursion to the end of a magnificent wood not far from the sea, M. Zermatt stopped before a huge mangrove, of the mountain variety, the lower branches of which spread out quite sixty feet above the ground. Upon these branches the father and his sons succeeded in building a platform made of planks taken from the ship. Thus they constructed an aerial dwelling, covered in with a solid roof and divided into several chambers. It was called Falconhurst, "The Falcon's Nest." What was more, like certain willows which only subsist through their bark, this mangrove had lost its inner core, which had been taken possession of by numerous swarms of bees, and it was possible to put in a winding staircase, to replace the rope ladder by which access to the Falcon's Nest had been gained originally.

 

            Meanwhile exploring trips were extended to a distance of seven or eight miles as far as False Hope Point, as the cape was called after M. Zermatt had given up all hope of finding any passengers or members of the crew of the Landlord.

 

            At the entrance to Deliverance Bay, opposite Falconhurst, lay an island about a mile and a quarter in circumference, and this was christened Shark's Island because one of those enormous creatures got stranded there the day the tub boat was taking the domestic animals to Tent Home.

 

            Just as a shark was responsible for the naming of this island, so a whale, a few days later, gave its name to another island about three-quarters of a mile in circumference, situated in front of Flamingo Bay, to the north of Falconhurst. Communication between this aerial dwelling place and Tent Home, which was about two and a half miles distant, was facilitated by the construction of "Family Bridge," subsequently replaced by a swing bridge, thrown across Jackal River.

 

            After passing the first few weeks under canvas, as the fine weather had not come to an end before Falconhurst was completed, M. Zermatt removed there with all the domestic animals. The enormous roots of the mangrove, covered with tarpaulins, served as cattlesheds. No traces of wild beasts had been found as yet.

 

            However, it was necessary to think of preparing for the return of the winter season, which, if not cold, was at any rate disturbed by those torrential rains of the intertropical regions, which last from nine to ten weeks. To remain at Tent Home, where all the stores from the Landlord would be kept, would mean risking the precious cargo saved from the wreck. The encampment could not promise absolute safety. The rains must swell the river into a torrent, and if it overflowed its banks all the arrangements and fittings of Tent Home might be swept away.

 

            Thus M. Zermatt was justifiably anxious about finding a safe shelter, when chance came to his rescue in the following circumstances.

 

            On the right bank of Jackal River, a little to the rear of Tent Home, there arose a wall of thick rock, in which with pick and hammer, and perhaps with mine, a grotto could be excavated. Fritz, Ernest, and Jack set about the task, but the work was making poor progress when, one morning, the tool that Jack was wielding went right through the rock.

 

            "I have gone through the mountain!" the lad cried out.

 

            The fact was there was a vast hollow inside the solid mass. Before entering it, in order to purify the air, bunches of burning grass were thrown inside, followed by rockets found in the Landlord's powder chest. Then by the light of torches, father, mother, and sons gazed with wonder and admiration at the stalactites which hung from its vault, the crystals of rock salt which jewelled it, and the carpet of fine sand with which its floor was covered.

 

            A dwelling place was speedily fitted up within it. It was furnished with windows taken from the ship's stern gallery and escape pipes to carry off the smoke from the stoves. On the left hand were the work-shop, the stables and the cattle-sheds; to the rear, the storerooms, separated by partitions of planking.

 

            On the right hand there were three rooms: the first allotted to the father and mother; the second intended to serve as a dining room; the third occupied by the four boys, whose hammocks were hung from the roof.

 

            A few weeks more, and this new installation left nothing to be desired.

 

            Later on, other establishments were founded in the midst of the grass lands and the woods to the west of the coast line, which ran seven miles between Falconhurst and False Hope Point. The farmstead of Wood Grange was created, near Swan Lake; then, a little further inland, the farmstead of Sugar-cane Grove; then, on a little hill near the cape, the villa of Prospect Hill; and finally, the hermitage of Eberfurt, at the entrance to the defile of Cluse, which bounded the Promised Land on the west.

 

            The Promised Land was the name given to the fertile country protected on the south and west by a lofty barrier of rock which ran from Jackal River to the shore of Nautilus Bay. On the east extended the coast between Rock Castle and False Hope Point. On the north lay the open sea. This territory, seven and a half miles wide by ten miles long, would have been adequate to the needs of quite a little colony. It was there that the family kept the domestic animals and the wild animals which they had tamed—an onager, two buffaloes, an ostrich, a jackal, a monkey, and an eagle. There the plantations of native growths flourished, with all the fruit trees of which the Landlord had carried a complete assortment, oranges, peaches, apples, apricots, chestnuts, cherries, plums, and even vines, which, under the warm sun of this land, were destined to produce a wine far superior to the palm wine of intertropical regions.

 

            Beyond doubt nature had befriended the shipwrecked family; but their contribution in hard work, energy, and intelligence, was considerable. From these sprang the prosperity of this land, to which, in memory of their own fatherland, they gave the name of New Switzerland.

 

            Within a year nothing remained of the wrecked vessel.