While they were thus employed, I examined the other shrubs and bushes. Among these I presently noticed one which I knew well from description to be the karatas.
"Come here, boys," I said; "here is something of far more value than your pine-apples. Do you see that plant with long pointed leaves and beautiful red flower? That is the karatas. The filaments of the leaves make capital thread, while the leaves themselves, bruised, form an invaluable salve. The pith of this wonderful plant may be used either for tinder or bait for fish. Suppose, Ernest, you had been wrecked here, how would you have made a fire without matches, or flint and steel?"
"As the savages do," replied he; "I would rub two pieces of wood together until they kindled."
"Try it," I said; "but, if you please, try it when you have a whole day before you, and no other work to be done, for I am certain it would be night before you accomplish the feat. But see here," and I broke a dry twig from the karatas, and peeling off the bark, laid the pith upon a stone. I struck a couple of pebbles over it, and they emitting a spark, the pith caught fire.
The boys were delighted with the experiment. I then drew some of the threads from the leaves, and presented them to my wife.
"But what," said Fritz, "is the use of all these other prickly plants, except to annoy one? Here, for instance, is a disagreeable little tree."
"That is an Indian fig," said I. "It grows best on dry, rocky ground; for most of its nourishment is derived from the air. Its juice is used, I believe, medicinally, while its fruit is pleasant and wholesome."
Master Jack was off in a moment when he heard of a new delicacy, and attempted to gather some of the fruit, but in vain; the sharp thorns defied his efforts, and with bleeding hands, and rueful countenance, he returned. I removed the thorns from his hands, and making a sharp wooden skewer, I thrust it into a fig, and quickly twisted it from its branch and split it open with a knife, still holding it upon the skewer. The rest followed my example, and we regaled ourselves upon the fruit, which we found excellent. Ernest carefully examined the fig he was eating. "What are these," he exclaimed presently; "little red insects! they cling all over the fruit, and I cannot shake them off. Can they be cochineal?"
He handed me the fig, and I examined it attentively.
"You are quite right, my boy," I said; "there is no doubt this is the real cochineal. However, though it is worth its weight in gold to European traders, it is of little use to us, I am afraid unless any of you care to appear in gay colors. The cochineal you know, forms the most lovely scarlet dye."