The family Robinson Crusoe

by Johann David Wyss

Father.—You may be perfectly easy, Jack, for the preservative instinct of your monkey is such, that he would not touch it if it were poisonous; animals are in this respect better treated than man, who is called upon to use his reason in supplying the deficiency: at all events, however, we will give him so little that no harm can possibly ensue.

Upon this Jack picked up his grater, and with the others began to grate the roots with new alertness: dread of the poison had for an instant palsied every arm; but a very short time was now sufficient for producing a considerable quantity of ground manioc. By this time my wife had completed the bag. I had it well filled with what we called our pollard, and she closed it effectually by sewing up the end. I was now to contrive a kind of press: I cut a long, straight, well-formed branch, of considerable strength, from a neighbouring tree, and stripped it of the bark; I then placed a plank across the table we had fixed between the arched roots of our tree, and which was exactly the right height for my purpose, and on this I laid the bag; I put other planks again upon the bag, and then covered all with the large branch, the thickest extremity of which I inserted under an arch, while to the other, which projected beyond the planks, I suspended all sorts of heavy substances, such as lead, our largest hammers and bars of iron, which, acting with great force as a press on the bag of manioc, caused the sap it contained to issue in streams, which flowed plentifully on the ground.

Fritz.—This machine of yours, father, though simple, is as effectual as can be desired.

Father.—Certainly. It is the simplest lever that the art of mechanism can furnish, and may be made extremely useful.

Ernest.—I thought that levers were never used but for raising heavy masses, such as blocks of stone, and things of that degree of weight; I had no notion that they were ever used for pressing.

Father.—But, my dear boy, you see that the point at which the lever rests on the planks, must always be the point of rest or compression; the point at which its extremity touches the roots of the tree would no doubt be that of the raising power, if the root was not too strong to yield to the point of the lever; but then the resistance at the point of compression or rest is still stronger, and presses effectually, as you see, the contents of the bag. The Negroes, however, have another manner of proceeding; but it would have been much too tedious in the process for us to imitate. They make tresses of the bark of a tree, and with it form a kind of basket of tolerable size; they fill it with manioc, and press it so tightly that the baskets become shorter, and increase in breadth; they then hang the baskets to the strongest branches of trees, and fasten large stones to them, which draw the baskets again lengthways; by which action upon the manioc, the sap runs out at the openings left by the tresses.

Mother.—Can one make no use of this sap?

Father.—Certainly, we may: the same Negroes use it as food, after mixing with it a considerable quantity of pepper; and, when they can procure them, some sea crabs. The Europeans, on the other hand, leave it to settle in vessels till it has formed a sediment; they then pour off the liquid part, wash the sediment with fresh water, and place it to dry in the sun: in this manner they obtain from it an excellent sort of starch, which is used for clearing linen. I must tell you that the potatoe also contains the same sort of substance, which may be put to the same use: for the rest, the latter is less nourishing than the manioc.

Mother.—But pray tell me, are we to prepare the whole of this manioc at once? If so, we have at least a whole day’s work, and a great part must be spoiled at last.

Father.—Not so, my dear; when the pollard is perfectly dry, it may be placed in casks, and being shut closely down, it will keep for years; but you will see that the whole of this large heap will be so reduced in quantity by the operation we are going to apply of baking, that there will be no cause for your apprehension.