It was at the time Queen Anne began to reign, and her ships were
carrying the English flag into all seas, for commerce, for discovery, or
for war, when one of these vessels, called the _Clinque Ports_, put in
to refit at the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, on the west coast
of South America.
It was but a small island, though fertile and pleasant; it had not been
tilled or planted, neither had any place of shelter been built upon it,
but sometimes two or three sick sailors had been left there to recover
health, and sometimes a passing ship would put in for water, and
departing leave one or two of their live-stock on the island. It had
thus become stocked with goats, which ran wild about the hills and
craggy rocks, free from any danger of pursuit and capture.
This was not the first time that the _Clinque Ports_ had touched at Juan
Fernandez, for not long before she had left there two seamen who were
unable to continue their voyage, and now she had anchored to reship
these men, to take in water, and to refit for the long and perilous
voyage to the English shore.
The two seamen, coming on board, told strange stories to their comrades
of the pleasant life they had led on the island, of the hunt for goats,
of the abundance of shell-fish, of the delicious fruits and vegetables,
and of the cool waters of the place.
Of all the eager listeners to these tales of plenty and delight, there
was one who never failed to fasten on each word that was said, and by
constant questioning, to learn every detail of the life on the green
island which lay before them. This sailor was a Scotsman, named
Alexander Selkirk or Selcraig. He was of an impatient, overbearing
temper, and no favorite with his captain, who was not wise enough to
discern the good sense and honesty which lay hidden under his rough and
uncourteous manner. Thus it chanced that the Scotch Sailor was often in
trouble and disgrace, and resenting bitterly a harshness he did not
think he had deserved, he began to long to leave the ship at any cost.
But perhaps the beginning of his misery and discomfort must be sought
farther back in his life. His surly speech, his unsocial temper, spoke
of a mind ill at ease,--the remembrance of the past made the present
sad.
He had been religiously and strictly brought up by his father, a Scotch
Puritan, but he had broken loose from the restraints which his parents
sought to throw around him, and had led, if not a vicious, at least an
irreligious life, without thought of God, or of the lessons of truth and
goodness which he had been taught. Yet his conscience was not so
hardened that he could be happy in this neglect of God, and he felt ill
at ease, dissatisfied with himself, and with all around him.
He shrank, too, from the prospect of the voyage to England in a vessel
but half repaired, exaggerating to his own mind the perils before him,
and fearful of his own temper with his hard and prejudiced commander.
Weighing all these things, he determined on asking the captain to set him
on shore, that he might wait at Juan Fernandez the passing of some other
ship in which he might return home. The captain agreed to this proposal
willingly enough, glad to dismiss from his crew so insubordinate a
sailor; and just before the _Clinque Ports_ was about to weigh anchor,
the adventurous seaman was sent on shore with the few things that
belonged to him. He sprang from the boat almost before her keel had
grazed the sand, wishing to appear gay and brave to his companions; but
no sooner did the splash of oars begin to grow faint and distant, and the
faces of the boatmen indistinct as they neared the ship, than all his
courage forsook him. With outstretched hands, and frantic words and
gestures, he implored them to return, promising to bear everything, to
risk everything, if only he might not be left alone on the lonely island.
But he cried in vain; the boat reached the ship, the men climbed on
board, the sails were hoisted, and there on his sea-chest, sat the lonely
sailor, gazing over the wide ocean, on which nothing but the lessening
speck of white on the far horizon reminded him of the existence of any
human being but himself.
Days passed almost uncounted, for in his desolate misery Alexander
Selkirk had but one thought left--the longing desire of rescue and
return home. He valued the daylight only because by its aid he could
watch for a sail on the wide, silent sea; he dreaded the coming on of
the night, chiefly because it shut him off for a time from his one
employment. During these dreary days or weeks he never tasted food, save
when driven to look for it by pangs of sharpest hunger, and even then he
would not leave the beach, but fed on shell-fish picked up on the rocks,
or sometimes on the flesh of seals.
It was September when the _Clinque Ports_ sailed, and now October had
come, the middle of spring in Juan Fernandez, and, all round him, nature
spoke of hope, and taught of God. But before hope could enter into
Alexander's desolate heart, sorrow must come: sorrow for sin, for his
disobedience to the parents whom he had made unhappy; for his reckless,
godless life; for all the teachings of his youth forgotten, and for its
lessons neglected. Sometimes, for a few minutes, Alexander would turn
his eyes from his eager watch over the sea, and looking down, would
picture instead his Scottish home. He would see clearly in his mind his
venerable father, with his furrowed brow, and stern, unsmiling mouth;
his mother, in her tall white cap, busied at her wheel, with a far-away,
mournful look in her eyes, which told that she was thinking of her
absent son. Ah! and he saw again even his poor idiot brother, to whom he
had only used harsh words, and even rough blows. "I would be so
different now if it should please God ever to let me see home and my
dear ones again," he thought. And so has many a poor prodigal thought as
he has been compelled to suffer the punishment for his sins, and found
no way to escape from it.
Little by little, there grew up in his heart the purpose of beginning
even now this new life. He would not wait till his return to England. In
this lonely island, with half the world between him and all he loved, he
would strive to be one with them in heart, and to join with them in
prayer and praise. He would seek pardon for the sins of his youth for
the Saviour's sake, and in His strength, begin life anew. He had a Bible
with him in his chest, and he began to read it daily, and in earnest
prayer to seek forgiveness and blessing; then, even in his loneliness,
comfort came to him. He was no longer alone, for God was with him. He
knew that God was his Father, his Helper, and his Keeper, and he grew
calm, almost happy, and was even able sometimes to leave his look-out
over the sea, and make little journeys into the interior of his new
kingdom.
As his mind became more peaceful, he turned his thoughts to the question
of a shelter from the storms of the approaching winter, which, even in
that mild climate, was often accompanied with frost and snow. There were
plenty of trees on the island, and with their stems and branches he soon
built for himself a rough hut, which he thatched with long grass cut and
dried in the sun. This attempt was so successful that he determined to
build another hut at a short distance, so that he might sleep in one,
and in the other, prepare his food. Now that he had once looked in the
face the thought of spending the winter in the island, he grew, slowly,
more reconciled to it, and began to take an interest in preparing, as
far as he could, for its approach.
His huts must be furnished in some fashion; first, he brought up from
the shore his sea-chest, which contained his few clothes; then he cut
and fastened up a shelf on which to keep his Bible and the other books
which he had brought on shore. He had with him a large cooking-pot in
which to prepare his food, and a smaller drinking-can which he had
brought, most likely, from home, and which bore the old-fashioned
inscription, "Alexander Selkirk, this is my one." It was needful to make
for himself a bed, for hitherto he had slept on the beach, so that at
the first moment of opening his eyes he might begin his watch over the
sea: now he must sleep in his hut.
This bed he determined to make of the skins of goats, for he had begun
to hunt the wild goats for food, having by this time wearied of his diet
of fish. At first he was able only to overtake and capture the young
kids, for he had no gun, no bow and arrow with which to kill them at a
distance; then as exercise and practice increased his strength, he found
himself able to pursue and take the largest and swiftest goats, and
having killed them, to carry them on his shoulders to his hut. But as
goat's flesh, his principal food, could only be obtained by him while he
remained in full strength and vigor, he determined to provide a store in
case of illness or accident, and so, catching several young kids, he
slightly lamed them, so that they could move but slowly, and then
trained them to feed around his hut, and these gentle creatures, who
soon learned to know him, brought some sense of companionship to the
lonely man.
His life began now to have its regular duties and interests. In the
morning when he rose, he sang one of the old Scotch psalms, after the
practice which he had been taught from childhood, and then read aloud a
chapter of the Bible, and prayed long and fervently.
Then he betook himself to light a fire by rubbing together two dry
sticks till a flame was produced, and this fire he fed from time to time
with branches and logs from the woods. He had also, his food to obtain
and to cook--goat's flesh or cray-fish, which he boiled in his large
sauce-pan; and to gather the tender tops of the cabbage-palm or other
vegetables, for bread. These necessary employments finished, he would
take his Bible, and, sitting in the door of his hut, or on the beach,
would study it for hours, finding new truths and deeper meaning in the
blessed words familiar to him from his childhood. Or he would choose one
of his books on navigation, and study with a care which he had never
before thought it worth while to give, hoping in this way to be a better
sailor, and be able to take higher rank in the service, if it should
please God to restore him once more to the duties and work of life. In
this regular, peaceful, and religious life his spirits gradually
recovered; nay, he became far happier than he had been since his
childhood, for something of the trust and the love of a little child
were restored to his heart.
He would adorn his hut with fragrant boughs, and as he fed and caressed
his kids, would sing with a light heart the songs of old Scotland. Then
at set of sun he returned to the hut in which he slept, and there once
more sang, and read, and prayed, and so lay down to sleep in peace,
because he knew that it was the Lord only that made him dwell in safety.
"I was a better Christian in my solitude than ever I was before, or than
I fear I shall ever be again," he said, years after he had left the
island. In this there was both truth and error. He had been led by the
merciful goodness of God to repentance and to an earnest desire to
escape from sin, but it was in the life among his fellows that this
repentance and these new resolves--must be tested. It was in the daily
little trials and crosses of a life among other men, that he must learn
to subdue his proud spirit, and curb his hot temper.
Months and even years passed on, and but little happened to vary
Alexander's quiet life in his island home. He had now a large number of
kids around his hut, and had added to his list of favorites several
tamed cats, which he needed to protect him from the troop of rats which
gnawed his bed-clothes, and even nibbled at his feet as he lay asleep.
He had taught the kids and cats, too, to dance, and many a merry hour he
spent among these his daily companions and friends. The clothes which he
had brought on shore had been long since worn out, and he had supplied
their place by a cap, and trousers, and jacket, made of goat-skin. His
needle was a nail, and his thread thin strips of the skin; among his
stores was a piece of linen, and this too he had sewn into shirts,
unravelling one of his stockings for a supply of thread. He was
barefoot, and the soles of his feet had grown so hard that he could
climb sharp crags, and run over the stony beach, unhurt.
[Illustration: A narrow escape.]
Twice or thrice during these lonely years he had seen a sail
approaching, but on these he looked with as much terror as hope, for
should the crew prove to be Spaniards, he knew that he should be made a
prisoner by them, and either put to death, or sent into hopeless
slavery.
Once, indeed, the crew of a Spanish vessel, putting in for water, had
caught sight of the strange figure in the goat-skin dress, and had
chased him, but so swift-footed was he that he soon left his pursuers
far behind, and then lay hid in terror for hours, till the vessel had
departed. His life had been besides in other danger, for once while
pursuing the hunt from crag to crag, in wild and delightful adventure,
he had set foot on the hidden edge of a precipice: the grass which
seemed to promise so fair a footing gave way beneath his feet, he fell
headlong, and lay hurt and senseless below. He judged by the size of the
moon, when at last he opened his eyes to consciousness, that he must
have been lying stunned and helpless for more than twenty-four hours,
and it was with the greatest pain and difficulty that he could drag
himself to his hut, and lie down on his bed of skins. His tame favorites
came about him but none of them could help him, and he was too weak to
care to procure for himself food or water. But even in his great
distress he did not lose his confidence in God, and he lay calm and
patient, satisfied that he was safe in the care of his Heavenly Father.
After many days of suffering he recovered and once more enjoyed full
health and vigor.
He had been alone on Juan Fernandez for more than four years when one
evening, looking out seaward before lying down in his hut, he saw the
sails of an English-built vessel which was standing in very near to the
shore. Alexander could not resist the sudden and strong desire which he
felt, to be once more among his fellow-men, to hear once more the
English speech, and feel once more the grasp of a friendly hand.
Hurrying down to the beach, he piled and lighted a large bonfire, to
carry a message to his fellow-countrymen, but the ship, instead of
sailing shoreward, or of putting off a boat at once, tacked and went
farther from the island, taking the fire to be the lights of an enemy's
ship at anchor in the bay.
Alexander spent the night in hope and in doubt: he killed some goats and
prepared them for food, hoping the next day to entertain some of his
countrymen in his island home, and at the first dawn of day he was again
on the beach, gazing at the now distant but motionless ship.
Those on board were also keeping an anxious watch, but when morning
light showed them that there was no other ship near, the captain
determined to send a boat on shore to discover the cause of the strange
light which they had seen the night before. As they approached the
island they saw a strange figure running to meet them, and by gestures
and shouts pointing out the best place for landing. Alexander, with his
long beard, his tanned complexion, his goat-skin dress, had lost almost
all outward resemblance to a civilized man, and they wondered much who
this friendly and solitary savage might be.
But who can describe his joy when he heard once more the speech of his
own country, and looked on the faces of his kind. He welcomed his
visitors in the best English he could remember, for even his speech was
half forgotten, and led them to his hut to partake of the banquet he had
prepared.
Yet in the midst of all his joy he could hardly determine to leave his
beloved island, so accustomed had he grown to solitude, and to his wild,
uncontrolled life. At length the remembrance of his aged parents, and of
his friends at home, made him determine to ask a passage in the ship
which had touched on his island shore, and the captain, finding how much
he had learnt of seamanship and navigation, offered to rate him as mate.
And thus Juan Fernandez was left once more in utter solitude, and
Selkirk, gazing from the ship's deck, saw its green hills and pleasant
coasts disappear in the distance, as he left the island and all its sad,
its sacred, its happy memories forever. He soon grew tired of the
society of men, and when not busy about the ship, would always seek to
be alone, dreaming of the life which he had left. He found it hard, too,
to accustom himself to the salt meat and biscuits which were sailors'
fare, and to the dress and boots in which he must now appear. Soon every
other thought was lost in his longing desire to see once more his
parents and his home, for the shores of England were in sight. It was on
a Sunday morning that the wanderer entered once more his native village,
where all seemed quiet and unchanged. He did not turn his steps to his
father's cottage, for his parents, as he well knew, would be at the
kirk, and there would he look on their faces once more. Would they
recognize, he asked himself, in the strong and bearded man, the youth
who had left them years ago for the life of adventure which he loved
best? Would they know the fine gentleman in gold lace and embroidery to
be their son Alexander, their lost sailor lad. Pondering such thoughts
as these, he walked on almost unconsciously. How well he knew every step
of his way! In this farmhouse, his sister and her husband used to live;
there was the wood where he had so often gathered nuts, or climbed for
birds' nests with his boyish companions; there, its thatched roof more
lichen-covered than of old, stood his father's cottage, at the door of
which years ago he had kissed his mother for the last time--ah! was she
still alive to welcome the returning wanderer?
Seated in the kirk among unfamiliar faces, his eyes sought at once the
well-known corner where, as a boy, he had been used to sit, and with an
almost overwhelming rush of thankfulness and joy he saw once more his
mother's face, the same, yet changed, its added wrinkles and silvered
hair telling, perhaps, of many tears and long sorrow for her lost sailor
son.
There sat his father, too, the portly, respectable-looking elder, in
blue cap and coat of homespun tweed. In vain did Alexander seek to join
in the psalm or prayer, his looks and thoughts were ever wandering; and
he was not alone in this, for the dark eyes of his old mother turned
continually with an eager, inquiring gaze to the grand stranger
gentleman, strange yet so familiar. Then her eyes were cast down once
more on her book, as she tried to give heed to the service, till at last
a sudden smile which lit up Alexander's face, showed her that she saw
before her the son for whom she had longed and prayed, whom no doubt she
had before this counted as among the dead. In her sudden joy the old
woman forgot all else, and rising, rushed towards the place where the
returned wanderer was seated.
The whole family, with Alexander in their midst, now made their way out
of the kirk, and returned home to talk of the great deliverance which
God had given to their lost kinsman.
On this true story of Selkirk was founded the tale of the Adventures of
Robinson Crusoe.