“And you would have gone there alone?”
“Yes; why not? But now, oh, Fritz, if you would only go with me, we might settle at this place like regular Robinson Crusoes—as you said just now—and make a pile of money, or, rather, of skins, in a year or two!”
“The idea is feasible,” said Fritz in a reflective way. “I’ll talk to Captain Brown, and see what he says of it.” The elder brother had a good deal of German caution in his composition; so that, although prompt of action, he was never accustomed to undertake anything without due deliberation.
Eric, on the contrary, all impulse, was thoroughly carried away by the notion, now that he saw that Fritz, instead of ridiculing it, thought it worth consideration.
The project of going to settle on a real uninhabited island, like Robinson Crusoe, that hero of boyhood throughout the world, exceeded the realisation of his wildest dreams, when first as a little chap he had planned how he should go to sea as soon as he was big enough. Why, he and Fritz would now be “Brother Crusoes,” if his project were carried out, as there seemed every likelihood of its being—crusoes of their own free-will and not by compulsion, besides having the satisfaction of knowing that within a certain period it would be in their power to end their solitary island life; that is, should they find, either that it did not come up to their expectations in a business point of view, or that its loneliness and seclusion combined with the discomforts of roughing it were more than they could bear.
It was a glorious plan!
This was Eric’s conclusion, the more he thought of it; while Fritz, on his part, believed that there was something in the suggestion—something that had to be weighed and considered carefully—for, might he not really conquer Fortune in this way?
Captain Brown did not throw any cold water on the matter either, when it was brought before him.
“By thunder! it’s a durned good plan, it air, mister,” said he to Fritz, “thet it air, fur a young scaramouch like thet youngster thaar! I seed him palaverin’ with one o’ them islanders at Tristan—they’re a sort of half-caste tan colour there, like mulattoes in the States. I rec’lect one of the men who wer oncest on a whaler with me a v’y’ge or two to Kerguelen Land an’ back, tellin’ me ’bout the lot of seals thet were on Inaccessible Island, now I come to think of it; but I’ve never been thaar myself. Its name’s good enough fur me, since most of us thet go by thaar gives it a pretty wide berth, you bet; fur it air inaccessible, with a vengeance—a rocky coast plungin’ down abruptly into the sea, with a terrible surf breakin’ ag’in the cliffs, an’ no anchorage ground anywheres nigh thet’s safe!”
“And how could we land then?” asked Fritz.