GOING ASHORE.
[Illustration: CRUSOE'S CASTLE.]
No longer able to control our enthusiasm, we sprang into the boat and
pushed off for the landing. Captain Richardson, who was well acquainted
with the ruins of the Chilian settlement, joined us in our intended
excursion, and we were accompanied also by a few sporting passengers
from the Brooklyn in another boat. The waters of the bay are of crystal
clearness; we saw the bottom as we dashed over the swell, at a depth of
several fathoms. It was alive with fish and various kinds of marine
animals, of which there are great quantities about these shores. Can you
conceive, ye landsmen who dwell in cities, and have never buffeted for
weary months the gales of old ocean, the joy of once more touching the
genial earth when it has become almost a dreamy fancy in the memories of
the past! Then think, without a smile of disdain, what a thrill of
delight ran through my blood as I pressed my feet for the first time
upon the fresh sod of Juan Fernandez! Think of it, too, as the
realization of hopes which I had never ceased to cherish from early
boyhood; for this was the abiding place, which I now at last beheld, of
a wondrous adventurer whose history had filled my soul years ago with
indefinite longings for sea-life, shipwreck, and solitude! Yes, here was
verily the land of Robinson Crusoe; here, in one of these secluded
glens, stood his rustic castle; here he fed his goats and held converse
with his faithful pets; here he found consolation in the devotion of a
new friend, his true and honest man Friday; beneath the shade of these
trees he unfolded the mysteries of Divine Providence to the simple
savage, and proved to the world that there is no position in life which
may not be endured by a patient spirit and an abiding confidence in the
goodness and mercy of God.
Pardon the fondness with which I linger upon these recollections,
reader, for I was one who had fought for poor Robinson in my boyish days
as the greatest hero that ever breathed the breath of life; who had
always, even to man's estate, secretly cherished in my heart the belief
that Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, and all the warriors of
antiquity were commonplace persons compared with him; that Napoleon
Bonaparte, the Duke of Wellington, Colonel Johnson, Tecumseh, and all
the noted statesmen and warriors of modern times, were not to be
mentioned in the same day with so extraordinary a man; I, who had always
regarded him as the most truthful and the very sublimest of adventurers,
was now the entranced beholder of his abiding place--walking, breathing,
thinking, and seeing on the very spot! There was no fancy about it--not
the least; it was a palpable reality! Talk of gold! Why, I tell you, my
dear friends, all the gold of California was not worth the ecstatic
bliss of that moment!
[Illustration: CRUSOE AT HOME.]