The Young Crusoe
"Dear papa," said little Charles Crusoe to his father, one morning, "do
you think that our family is any way related to the famous Robinson Crusoe?"
"I believe not, Charles: but what may be your reason for inquiring?"
"Because I have just been reading the history of Robinson Crusoe, which
was in the packet of books my aunt sent me from England; and I did so very
much love him and admire him, that I wished he had been my own great-great-grandfather,
or something of that kind. I was, however, afraid it was not so, because
I know the Crusoes are a Staffordshire family, and he was a Yorkshireman;
and the Crusoes were gentlemen, I suppose, when he was only a poor man."
"I believe you are right in your conjectures, my dear Charles, and by
no means wrong in your feelings; for so delightful is the story of Robinson
Crusoe, that not only as a boy, but a man, have I read it many a time over
myself, with the deepest interest."
"And you think it is all true, papa?"
"Not all Charles. In the. first- place, the name is not true;
for the poor man who was really left in the desolate situation described,
was called Alexander Selkirk; in the second, it is not true that he was
shipwrecked, for the fact was, that his captain, to his eternal disgrace,
put him on shore, in the year 1703, on the Island-of Juan Fernandez, at
which place he was found, in 1709, by Captain Rogers, of Bristol. He was
a Scotchman by birth, and probably decently educated, as he was sailing-master
of a privateer, at the time of this misfortune; but in giving his adventures
to the world, thought proper to employ a clever man, called Daniel Defoe,
already well known as a writer. This author compiled the story of Robinson
Crusoe, therefore, partly from the real situation of Selkirk, and partly
from the experience of other adventurers; so that although it is not true
as a whole, it probably is so in all its details; and it is certain, that
he has thrown over it such an air of reality, it is impossible for the
mind of any reader not to assent to the whole."
"I am much obliged to you for telling me all this, papa; but if you
won[']t think me childish, I shall choose to believe it all true, the same
as I used to do. I love Robinson Crusoe dearly, he was so courageous, and
active, and ingenious; he had so many clever contrivances in his hut, and
such droll ways of dressing himself; and then he tamed the creatures so
as to be quite companions to him. I shall always think of him when I teach
the parrot to talk, and the monkey to play tricks. Perhaps I may be thrown
on a desolate island myself, some day, you know, papa."
"To judge from your countenance, Charles, such a fate would be by no
means disagreeable to you,"
"Why really, papa, I think I should not much mind it, provided I had
a gun, and plenty of powder, and knew how to use it."
"Well my boy, though I sincerely hope that you will never be left, either
on a desolate island, or in any other situation which cuts you off from
the comforts of social life, which are of much more importance than a child
like you can estimate, yet I am glad that you are of an active, enterprising
disposition. Let our situation be ever so desperate, we should never despair;
and if it were ever so lonely, we yet know that there is One above, who
can hear our prayers, and reply to them also, by delivering us from our
afflictions."
The father and son now separated, for Mr. Crusoe, who was an English
merchant, resident at Bombay, in the East Indies, had some particular business
to attend to. Charles, however, repeated the conversation, (with many comments
of his own), to his sister Emily, and even his mamma, who took some pains
in pointing out to him the obligations he was under to the friends and
servants by whom he was surrounded, and how impossible it would be, for
a person accustomed like himself to the comforts and elegancies of life,
to subsist in a state of utter destitution.
Charles soon was brought to acknowledge that he should want a great
many things, and that he should be very unhappy if deprived of his parents
and friends: but he had adopted very high notions of the power of man's
endurance, and he maintained that persons of his sex ought, and could,
go through a great deal without repining.
Mrs. Crusoe smiled at his enthusiasm, but would not repress it, further
than was necessary; for, like his father, she sought to turn it to a good
account. Whenever, therefore, she saw Charles listless and indolent, desirous
of calling his servant to do that which he could do for himself, negligent
of his lessons, or averse to exercise, which are all common failings in
the east, she used to assure him "that he never would do for a Robinson
Crusoe."
This observation frequently roused him to exertion; and of course his
sensible and affectionate parents were glad to awaken in him those energies
which are so necessary to every young person, but especially to boys who
are so situated.
Our young friend was, at this time, about ten years old, and was, happily,
blest with an excellent constitution, which the cares of his mother preserved
to him though they were not equally. effective for her daughter,
who was about two years younger, and was very delicate. When indeed she
had attained her tenth year, the little girl became so poorly, that the
medical men entreated Mrs. Crusoe to set out with her for England; and
accordingly they departed for their native land, at a very short notice.
Mr. Crusoe wished much to give his son the benefit of an English education,
but he could not at this period bring himself to part with the only comfort
which remained to him; and as he resolved to settle his affairs as speedily
as possible, and follow his lady, he thought Charles would not be any great
loser by the delay, especially as he shared with a young friend the cares
of a very excellent tutor. Under these circumstances, therefore, the boy
remained at Bombay about a year and a half longer, when, with his dear
father, who was now become almost his sole companion, he set out for England,
having previously visited Elephanta, and whatever was most beautiful, in
the environs of Bombay.
When Charles Crusoe left England, he was such a very young child, that
his memory could not furnish him with any recollections beyond a faint
idea of his grandpapa, whom he had loved very dearly; but as this affection
had been tenderly nursed by his parents, who had in every respect sought
to impress him with general love to his country, and particular regard
for his family, he was delighted with the thoughts of his voyage. It may
indeed be supposed, that if England had contained only his beloved mother
and sister, he would have rejoiced in the idea of going to them, but to
this was added extreme anxiety, to see that country, about which all the
persons he knew were continually talking, in language which bespoke sorrow
for having left it, or desire to return to it. He had been told that Bombay
was more beautiful, that the country was more rich, the fruits finer, the
style of living more splendid, and that no people in_England were carried
about in palanquins, or served by menials with the profound respect, and
implicit obedience, of the natives who attended on him here; but this information
had no other effect than to quicken his desire of living there. He remembered,
that all the little books came from England -- that the kind tutor, to
whose instruction he was so much indebted for higher knowledge than they
had communicated, was English also; so that both early and late recollections
pointed to this country, as the source of his highest pleasures. To this
might be added, the fixed belief that his own countrymen, were the most
heroic, learned, and good people in the world; and he naturally desired
to behold the land in which they were nurtured, and to become one in a
land of which he had been reading and thinking so much.
As Charles had made several short vovages with his parents, during their
residence at Bombay, he did not experience much inconvenience from sea-sickness;
and he was delighted with the manoeuvring of the ship, which was a noble
vessel, called the Alexander, commanded by Captain Gordon, who was a sensible,
amiable, and pious man, with whom Mr. Crusoe had been long acquainted.
There were not many passengers on board, and several were in a state of
bad health, so that the captain's society, when it could be obtained, was
more than usually valuable to Mr. Crusoe; but Charles (as might be supposed)
found company and amusement more easily, and was soon known and liked by
every seaman on board. He had also brought with him his parrot, and a little
dog, which had been lately a substitute for his monkey; and a native orphan
boy, who had been some years the attendant and playfellow of Charles, accompanied
them, as he declared "him heart will break if him no go;" therefore his
voyage in every respect promised to be agreeable.
As Captain Gordon had some business at Calicut, on the same coast with
Bombay, they put in there for a few days, by which means Charles got an
opportunity of seeing this city, the capital of a kingdom of the same name,
which was, at one time, so extensive and powerful, that the sovereign took
the title of "King of Kings." It was exceedingly reduced by Hyder Ali,
who caused the cocoa-nut trees and sandal wood, with which it abounded,
to be cut down, and the pepper roots to be pulled up, thereby destroying
the natural riches of the land. After his time, Tippoo Saib committed horrid
cruelties here, many of which were related to Charles by persons who had
been eyewitnesses, of them; and thev told him that the citv of Calicut,
once so flourishing, had now little to support it, except the wood of the
teak trees, which is cut down in the neighbouring mountains. These accounts
only made him more desirous to reach his native country, and he renewed
his voyage with pleasure, hoping that they should stop at the Cape of Good
Hope even. a shorter time than they had done at Calicut.
On leaving Calicut they soon came within view of the Laccadive Islands,
and the weather being clear and fine, they appeared beautifully spotting
the bosom of the ocean, like emeralds on a robe of azure. Mr. Crusoe told
Charles that there were no less than thirty of them, that they were covered
with trees, and for the most part surrounded with rocks; and that the inhabitants
went in flat-bottomed boats to the nearest coast, where they disposed of
dried fish and ambergris, and in return got dates and coffee.
"Then," exclaimed Charles, "there is no such thing, it seems, as an
uninhabited island? I should like to see one, of all things."
"I believe there are several in these seas; but as we are not going
on a voyage of discovery, it is not likely we should touch at any of them,
unless it is Ascension Isle, which is little better than a barren rock,
and would, I fear, not satisfy your curiosity."
"No, papa; I should like something to explore ; I would have curious
plants, and canes, and trickling springs, and beautiful birds, on my island,
and a round hill in the middle, that I might see the extent of my dominions."
"I wish I had you at home, my boy; I would find one in the Thames, just
to your taste, or, perhaps, on one of the lakes in Cumberland."
Charles thought his papa was laughing at him, and he felt inclined to
be angry; but he knew himself to be a little romantic in his notions, and
fond of that which was wild and marvellous, so he turned it off with a
laugh, saying -- "He should not like to be lord of an island no bigger
than a compound which is the name in India for what we call a homestead;"
on which his father said, with serious approbation in his look -- "My dear
boy, I perceive you are lord of yourself, which is better than any
other power; always pursue this command, and whether you are thrown on
a desert island or a busy world, you will be wise and happy."
They now left the Laceadives far behind, and saw around them only the
vast ocean, bounded by the skies. Charles thought it a loyely and almost
appalling prospect, and sought, with more avidity than he had ever done
before, that little world within the vessel, which might be called all
that remained to its inhabitants. He never failed, however, to watch the
sunset, which, under their present situation, for several successive evenings,
presented a glorious spectacle. The most gorgeous colours of the rainbow,
mingled with a flood of golden light, which overspread sides and seas with
glory, and even in its departure seemed to give a promise of return.
This magnificent sight never failed to give Charles not only sensations
of innocent, but holy delight; he would frequently repeat parts of Thomson's
hymn, or the invocation to the sun, in the Paradise Lost; and he frequently
declared, "that it was worth while to endure the monotony of the voyage
twice over, for the sake of seeing the sun set so grandly." On the fifth
night that they witnessed it, there were symptoms of a wind coming on,
by no means of a favourable description, and the pleasure all the passengers
had enjoyed in watching it, were exceedingly damped.
The next day proved that their fears were but too well founded; the
wind whistled in the cordage, compelled the sailors to reef the sails,
and finally agitated the waves, and, apparently, drove the vessel in a
clean contrary direction to that in which they sought ,to steer her. The
skies were at this time clear; nevertheless, the sun went down unnoticed,
save by those who sought, from their observations, to foretell the length
of the gale; and so far as Charles could judge, from their looks, the prospect
was not favourable. When the waves first began to swell, and the wind to
lift up its voice, as it were, in a threatening strain, the boy felt rather
pleased than otherwise; for as he had an insatiable curiosity on all points
connected with nautical pursuits, he wished to see a storm, and in the
wild commotion of the elements, he rather enjoyed the sublimity of the
scene than feared its power. The sight of the captain's anxious countenance
first drew him from the contemplation of the billows; and when, like the
other passengers, he was ordered to leave the deck, he began to question
his papa, with much solicitude, as to the probable duration of the storm,
and its effects.
"I hope, my dear, it will not last long, for we have already been driven
considerably out of our track; we are, however, happy in being at a distance
from the Maldives, or any other islands; and as we are about crossing the
line, I hope we shall soon fall in with another wind, and regain what we
have lost." These hopes a few hours afterwards appeared in a likely way
to be fulfilled, as there was an evident abatement of the storm; but before
an other day and night had passed, it was renewed with more fury than before.
The ship was now so violently tossed, that every thing on board was in
confusion; rain descended in torrents, and there were such frequent storms
of thunder and lightning, that they expected destruction every moment.
To add to their distress, the captain (who was advanced in years) became
so ill, that it was with the utmost difficulty that he did his duty; but
his consciousness of the inability of the second in command, induced him
to persist in giving orders, and inspecting every thing on board with unceasing
vigilance.
In the course of three or four days, their once-beautiful vessel was
stripped of sails, masts, and cordage, and reduced to a mere hull, which
rolled and plunged, like, a huge porpoise, as if every instant it was going
to sink, and be no more seen. When the sun was going down on the sixth
night in which they had been thus suffering, one of the sailors espied
land, and the captain exerted himself to the utmost to discover where they
might be. He concluded at length, that the island now visible was that
of Amsterdam, on which he had been many years before, when he went out
in the suite of Lord Macartney to China. He said -- "The island was formerly
a volcano, and was still exceedingly hot, and had no good water upon it;
and that there was only one harbour where it was possible to land, therefore
he was glad that the wind drove them from it." He owned, however, "that
when he had been there, some American seamen were living on the island,
for the purpose of collecting seals' skins, as the shores abound with these
creatures."
On learning this, the crew and passengers became impatient to effect
a landing on this island, thinking that any situation must be better than
that which they were in; and seeing the ship was utterly unmanageable,,
they determined on putting to sea in the long-boat, and, if possible, reaching
the island by that harbour the captain described. He had said it was only
six miles long; and as they had now seen it by an uncertain light for some
hours, and were conscious they were drifting from it every moment, they
concluded it was possible that they had a chance for life from this effort,
which was evidently the only one which remained to them.
The captain, worn out alike with sickness arid fatigue, could only declare
-- "That he would die in his vessel;" and so fully persuaded was Mr. Crusoe,
that death was inevitable on either hand, that he said -- "Himself and
son would take their chance with him;" but he gave Sambo, his servant,
full liberty to go; and earnestly recommended him to the kindness of those
around him. When, however, the poor boy understood what they were about,
he protested, that -- "Him live with him sahib [*Master] -- him die with
him sahib;" and sitting down at his master's feet, he seemed ready to meet
the death which threatened him.
"You are willing to remain, my dear Charles?" said Mr. Crusoe, questioningly,
as he drew his son to his bosom.
Certainly, certainly!" said the poor boy, as he eagerly embraced his
father; "you know what is best, papa: besides, I would not leave you for
the world."
There was no power of reply to any purpose, for the noise of the wind
and sea, the hasty removal of persons into the boat, the shrieks for assistance
from some who met a watery grave in their descent, the cries of others
for friends or property, completed the confusion.
In a short time all were gone, save the four persons we have mentioned,
who were now huddled together in the dark, and appeared drifting fast from
the land they had seen, towards some other coast, and the captain now recollected
the little island of St. Paul, and said -- "He apprehended they were near
it."
Scarcely had he made the remark, when a loud and terrible cry rose on
the gale, and they were thus rendered aware of the destruction of their
late companions, who had already been swallowed by the, raging sea.
Still the billows raged, and every motion of the vessel seemed likely
to be her last. Not a word was spoken; but undoubtedly every heart was
engaged in prayer, when one sea, more tremendous than the rest, drove them
(as it appeared from the shock they received) upon a rock, from which it
was evident they were not moved by several succeeding waves.
The captain now suggested the necessity of preserving presence of mind,
and gave various directions for their conduct, under the persuasion, that
in a few minutes the ship would break in pieces, and, as it were, vanish
from under them. This effect did not, however, immediately take place,
and in a short time they became sensible that the storm was abating, which
left them hope that they might retain their present position till morning.
At length the long-looked-for day rose, and discovered to our shipwrecked
friends the situation in which they were placed. The ship was not upon
a rock, for there are none round this island, which was indeed that of
St. Paul, as the captain had surmised;. it was driven, by the violence
of the wind, into the deep sandy soil, with such force, that it could never
be afterwards moved by the waves, which had made numerous breaches in the
sides, into which the water was pouring at the end nearest to the sea.
On perceiving this, Mr. Crusoe made haste to procure a plank, to use as
a bridge, for them to pass to the land, and proposed immediately that they
should take as many things as they could out of the vessel, before they
were rendered useless by the encroaching water.
Sambo and Charles lost not a moment in obeying these orders; but the
captain was so ill, as to be unable to lend a helping hand; and it was
with the utmost difficulty that they could enable him to land, for he was
not only worn out with anxiety and fatigue, but under the influence of
a consuming fever. Mr. Crusoe's first care was to look for a shady place,
on which to spread his bedding, that he might lie down, and, if possible,
obtain some repose.
At a little distance they found a grassy spot, which formed a glade
in a beautiful grove, through which a little limpid stream of pure water
ran gurgling towards the ocean. Several birds were already beginning to
sing their welcome to the morning, and a cool refreshing breeze ran quivering
through the leaves. Every thing around was calm and beautiful, offering
a striking contrast with the tremendous storm they had so lately witnessed;
and poor Mr. Crusoe observed, with a melancholy smile, to his son -- "My
dear boy, you have now got a desolate island, and a very pretty one it
is, so far as I can see."
"It is not desolate, papa, if you are here." said poor Charles, as the
tears sprung to his eyes.
Mr. Crusoe clasped his son in his arms; he thanked God that he was preserved
to him, at least for the present; but he thought on his dear wife and daughter,
now far distant, and his tears flowed also. Remembering soon, that it was
not by thus indulging his feelings that he could assist his friend, and
that to him alone must they all look for guidance and protection, he checked
his emotion; and when he had seen his sick friend laid down in comparative
comfort, he readily assisted the boys in getting all out of the vessel
which the late storm had left, which was likely to be of use to them in
their present distress.
There is nothing which makes little troubles so light as the remembrance
of great ones. Our travellers had just escaped with life; they had also
obtained rest, after enduring incessant fear and toil; therefore, though
their situation was full of solicitude, they did not, for the present,
feel it. When a fire was lighted, and some coffee made, though the biscuit
unfortunately was wet, and there was but little provision of any kind good,
all enjoyed their breakfasts, looked round upon their houseless abode with
admiration, devoutly thanked God for giving it to them, and employed their
minds busily in contriving the means of existing upon it, or escaping from
it; but all eagerly inquired of the captain what he happened to know concerning
it.
"All I recollect hearing on the subject is this, that the island of
St. Paul is to the north of the island of Amsterdam, and within sight of
it, that it is covered with shrubs and trees, and has abundance of sweet-water,
which Amsterdam is without. Having no safe anchorage or landing-place,
it is almost unknown."
Do you think a signal of distress could be seen from hence to Amsterdam?"
said Mr. Crusoe.
"Yes; but I fear there is no person now residing there, for it was considered
a great wonder, for the American sailors I saw to have staid a single winter;
and I have never heard of any other person meeting with any inhabitants
since that time."
Mr. Crusoe, on hearing this, became exceedingly anxious to secure any
tools which might be left, on the ship, thinking that as their only chance
of escape seemed to lie in forming a boat, or raft, these things were of
all others most valuable. On returning to the wreck, he perceived that
it was now completely parted, and the carpenter's tools were unfortunately
lost; but a small (gentleman's) tool-chest was found in the cabin, and
now eagerly seized upon, together with some canisters of gunpowder, which
had hitherto escaped them, and some clothes of Captain Gordon's.
When Sambo had been sent on the island with these things, Mr. Crusoe
began to examine portions of the parting vessel, and fasten ropes about
them, with Charles's assistance, in order to drag them ashore.
"But surely, dear papa, you cannot expect to make a boat that would
hold four people with such a set of tools? or, if your boat was made, could
you go farther than the neighbouring island; and what good would that do?"
"A great deal, Charles. It would be one step gained which is encouragement;
and to keep alive hope, in our situation, is a great point, and a difficult
one, at my time of life, though not at yours. Besides, employment is invaluable
to us; you know I long since told you never to despair -- to that advice
I now add, never be idle"
Misser Sharly! Misser Sharly!" cried a voice.
"That is my parrot -- my pretty Poll! How could I forget her! Where
can she be?"
It was evident to Mr. Crusoe that the poor bird was in great terror,
and he recollected that he had been given some days before into the keeping
of a sailor, because he disturbed the captain, since which time, in their
distress, he had been forgotten. On looking round, he perceived Poll in
his cage, which was attached to a plank, now slowly floating from the island.
By venturing into the sea, far enough to throw a rope with effect, Mr.
Crusoe moved the plank, to the great joy of Charles, who had followed him;
and in a short time, the half-drowned bird was rescued from his perilous
situation. The parrot was found almost starved, for his cage had no remains
of food in it; and on reaching the island, it was Charles's first care
to supply his wants; but as the poor creature continued to cry incessantly
all the words he had learnt, he, very properly, carried him to a considerable
distance, as the captain was now asleep.
Mr. Crusoe flattered himself that when his old friend awoke, he would
be much amended, and even able to assist in forming a vessel in which they
might escape, when the state of the weather was.favourable. To his great
sorrow, when the poor gentleman again spoke, it was in a voice so weak
and faint, as to preclude all hopes of his recovery, especially as his
appetite was utterly gone, and he was unable to raise his head from the
pillow without support. He had been a sincere Christian, and expressed
himself perfectly resigned to death, and devoutly thanked God that, even
in this desolate situation, he had a kind, sympathizing friend to sooth
his last moments; but he lamented much that he had with him bonds and notes
equal to a considerable fortune, of which his grandchildren would be deprived,
in consequence of his death, unless it was in the power of Mr. Crusoe to
preserve them. He said that he had placed them about his person, when the
wreck became inevitable, because it was possible he might escape; but now
he felt that all was over, and the little family of orphans would never
obtain his property; "yet," he added, "I know their heavenly Father will
provide for them, even if this property is lost to them, for 'He is a husband
to the widow, and a father to the fatherless,' and will help my poor grandchildren!
and I even trust you, or your son, will live to reach England, in which
case I know you will see justice done to them.
He then told Mr. Crusoe to feel in his pocket, and take out a little
Bible, in which he desired Charles to read several chapters, which he named,
saying -- "His time was now so short, it was better that he should not
talk farther of his worldly affairs." After Charles had read those portions
of the word of God, which he found especially dear and valuable, his mind
seemed much consoled, and his spirits renovated. He gave Mr. Crusoe a great
deal of valuable information on the subject of the winds in those seas,
and the times when a little vessel might navigate them in safety; also
when the proper time would arrive in which ships might (from different
routes being adopted) come within their signals. Every word he said was
carefully treasured, both by father and son, who all night long knelt by
him, with beating hearts, and frequently with streaming eyes.
When the sun arose, he looked smilingly on the light, and said something,
in a low voice, of the sun of righteousness; then put his little Bible
in Charles's hands, as a dying bequest, saying -- "It will be your companion
in the wilderness, and your guardian in the world; therefore take this
blessed book, my dear boy, and never forsake it!"
Poor Charles, deeply affected, took the sacred volume, and placed it
in his bosom, fervently kissing the hand that presented it -- that hand
was cold even now, and in a few minutes more, the last sigh escaped the
lips of the good old captain.
Mr. Crusoe was sincerely grieved for the loss of this worthy man, nor
could he fail to look forward with extreme anxiety for the fate which awaited
his survivors. He knew that by exertion alone could they be relieved from
the more appalling death which threatened them; and after allowing the
sorrow of Charles time to subside, he addressed himself to the painful
task of examining the body, and taking thence the important papers, of
which the captain had spoken.
In this melancholy duty Charles assisted his father, whilst Sambo went
to a place at a little distance, pointed out by his master, where, with
such tools as they had procured, he endeavoured to dig a grave.
Mr. Crusoe found in Captain Gordon's bosom several sheets of parchment,
and also his will, and in his pockets a bill-book, a case of jewels, and
a purse of gold; and wrapping all up together, he began to cast about for
a place where he could deposit them safely, observing, that his clothes
were already wet, and as it was likely he might be again induced to go
into the sea, it was better to put them in a dry place.
Charles recollected, when he took his parrot to a distance, seeing a
little mound of earth, which appeared somewhat broken in like a cavern,
and formed the only diversity from the level surface, which he had yet
seen on the island. To this place he conducted his father, who observed,
that, by a little labour, this spot might be rendered a valuable habitation,
as it was already sufficiently cavernous to afford them shelter in case
of rain, together with their stores, and that the trees grew around it
in such a manner, that the ropes, which they luckily possessed, might be
so twisted about the trunks, as to guard them from wild beasts, if there
were such on the island. For the present, he laid the handkerchief, with
its valuable contents, on a flat stone, and covered it with another, and
then returned to the spot where his poor friend still lay on the mattress,
where he had breathed his last.
Having wrapped the body in a sailcloth, which they had used to carry
their stores in from the vessel, the father and son proceeded to the place
where the poor boy was still digging; and when Mr, Crusoe had so far assisted
his labours as to make the grave sufficiently deep, they laid the body
into it, and then all knelt down, whilst the friend, father, master, and
mourner, poured from his heart a short but deeply-affecting prayer, to
that Almighty Protector, whose eye alone beheld them -- whose hand alone
could sustain them: all remained silent many minutes afterwards, and when
they arose, they pursued the necessary labour of covering the grave, and
placing over it a few planks from his own ship, still meditating on the
captain's fate. When this last "labour of love" was ended, Mr. Crusoe,
aware that young minds cannot be long exercised on any painful subject,
without injury to those energies necessary for their health and activity,
urged the boys to prepare some food, and spoke with a cheerfulness he was
far from feeling, but which had soon the happiest effect on his young companions.
Mr. Crusoe now armed both himself and the boys, and set out to make
the circuit of the island. They found it so overgrown with trees and brushwood,
that it was with the utmost difficulty they could proceed in some places,
and in others it was covered with beautiful long grass, which they trod
with caution, lest it should harbour snakes or scorpions. None such were
observed, nor any animal on the ground, except a few rabbits, or small
hares, which from time to time crossed their path. The trees were much
more full of life, for numerous beautiful birds were there, some of which
they had never seen before; but many of them were familiar to them, and
on these they gazed with great delight, as a kind of old friends that had
shared their voyage and their troubles. When they had proceeded, as they
supposed,, about a mile and a half, they arrived at a little promontory,
which ran far into the sea, and on which was a small tree or two; but there
was no rock, neither any bay, so far as they could observe, which proved
Captain Gordon's information correct; and Mr. Crusoe felt his heart sink,
as he perceived the impossibility (even if they could make a boat of sufficient
magnitude to put out to sea) of launching it from such a shore. He yet
thought, if ever they were so happy as to attain this power, it must be
from this spot that they should go, and he examined it with great anxiety,
from this consideration.
Whilst Mr. Crusoe was thus employed, Sambo had climbed into one of the
trees, to look out, as he said, "for one great shippy;" and as the evening
was perfectly calm, and his master knew that the Indian had extraordinary
eyes, he waited patiently for some time; but was just going to call the
boy down, when he declared, that though he saw no shippy in sea or in sky
he saw their own big boat rolly, rolly, very slow, bottom at top.
This circumstance Mr. Crusoe considered extremely probable, and hope
sprung in his heart at the idea of regaining this vessel, which was infinitely
superior to any which he could ever hope to form; and such was his anxiety
on the subject, that being a good swimmer, he would immediately have jumped
into the sea, in hopes to find it, and guide it to the spot; but the evening
was too far advanced for Sambo to give any directions, nor even to perceive
it when he looked again; nor had he any rope with him wherewith to secure
it. Besides, the idea of his father going out into the sea at so late an
hour, the very day when they had been all so deeply affected by the loss
of their friend, so completely overcame poor Charles, that he besought
him on his knees to desist, declaring -- "That on this terrible day he
was utterly unable to bear him out of his sight for a moment"
Mr. Crusoe took his child's hand, and immemediately pursued their walk,
which brought them, within half an hour, to the cavern, where the poor
captain's property was deposited, and where Mr. Crusoe said he would sleep
that night. Sambo immediately began preparing to light a fire, as he had
done the preceding nights; but Mr. Crusoe being convinced that there was
nothing to fear from wild beasts, told him it was unnecessary; but proceeded
with him to the spot where their bedding and victuals remained, and having
eaten some cold pork and biscuit, and addressed their evening prayers to
Heaven, they all betook themselves to that repose they so greatly required:
Mr. Crusoe slept on the mattress; the boys had each a blanket, and laid
on the grass, which was deep, soft, and dry.
The next morning Mr. Crusoe's first care was so to increase the excavation,
as to render it an effectual shelter in case of storm, which, with their
joint labour, became, in the course of the day, effected to a considerable
degree; after which they so contrived to line it with portions of the broken
vessel still left on the coast, as to keep the earth from crumbling on
their heads. Mr. Crusoe considered this work of the utmost importance,
because there was not in the whole island any rock or mound that could
afford them the least shelter from the rain; and although the weather was
at this time beautifully clear and calm, nothing could be more probable
than that a tremendous storm might arise in the course of a single hour;
and as they had perceived many fallen trees in the course of their walk,
there was reason to fear this island was often visited by terrible tempests.
The next morning Mr. Crusoe determined to set out, and, if possible,
recover the boat, and for this purpose he took with him whatever appeared
necessary. Whilst collecting his materials, Charles employed himself in
gathering a species of wild oranges, which he had observed grew in quantities
round their hut, and which, although bitter, assuaged the thirst of which
both himself and his father complained. Sambo had again climbed into a
tree, and on his hasty descent, declared so positively that he saw a ship,
at a great distance, that every other thing was forgotten, in the anxiety
to put up signals of distress.
Their first care was to take one of the pair of sheets which lay on
their bed, and suspend it from a tree near the spot where they landed;
and the other was taken by Mr. Crusoe, to hang up at the other end of the
island. He then gave Charles the captain's glass, and told him to station
himself there, and keep a sharp lookout, and from time to time fire a gun,
as a signal. As the highest trees were in the middle of the island, Sambo
was directed to climb up on them; and if he saw the vessel within certain
limits, to make signs, either to his master or Charles, as agreed on between
them.
Yet much calculated as this great event was to enliven all parties,
the Indian boy was the only one who seemed really alert. Charles obeyed
his father mechanically, for his eye was heavy, and his motions slow; but
he knew that every thing depended on attracting the attention of the vessel,
and he remembered that it was in compliance with his request, urged in
the agony of the moment, that his father had abandoned his intention of
seeking the boat, and therefore it was particularly his duty to
do his utmost to forward his views. For this purpose he also climbed the
tree on which Sambo had been; but notwithstanding he had the benefit of
the glass, he could see nothing; but he knew the fault was in his own eyes,
which ached excessively ever since he awoke; therefore he quickly came
down, saying -- "That he believed Sambo was more to be depended on than
him, and begging his papa to pursue his plan."
Mr. Crusoe took a portion of food with him, and set out, having placed
some in the hands of Sambo also, Charles declining any thing but the fruit
he had gathered. As his father's figure slowly withdrew from his eyes,
the poor boy felt exceedingly grieved to part from him, even for a few
hours, and remarked that he too walked with slow and lingering steps, as
one either oppressed by bodily disease, or severe sorrow. -- "Alas!" said
he, "it is no wonder that he is weak and poorly; besides, I know he is
thinking of my dear mamma continually."
Charles roused himself from this painful recollection, as well as he
could; and in a short time it was certain he ceased to think of this or
any other trouble, except that which was connected with his own sensations,
which were now become very distressing. He had a dreadful headache, was
excessively sick, yet very thirsty, and was alternately of a shuddering
coldness, or burning like fire. Several times he determined to fire, in
order that his papa, or Sambo, might come to his assistance; but the fear
of adding to his father's uneasiness, or being the means of preventing
him from accomplishing his purpose, prevented him.
Finding, at length, that he could not watch any longer on the shore,
he left the flag and his gun, and tried to crawl towards the hut, which
he was approaching with the greatest difficulty, when poor Samho joined
him, and perceived how ill he was. He declared that the heat was so terrible,
he could not remain on the watch any longer, and expressed his surprise
that his master had not returned; and thinking to cheer Charles, he predicted
many good things from his protracted stay. -- "Eder him get boaty, else
him find large shippy, come and take them all away."
But Charles was now too ill to give even a faint smile to Sambo's predictions;
and at length he fell down on the ground, utterly unable to proceed, holding
his forehead with his hands, and crying, with a faint voice, for a little
water. Sambo left him with extreme reluctance, even for a few moments;
and when he returned with water, tried to carry him on his back to the
hut; by slow degrees, at length, accomplishing his purpose.
When Charles was sheltered from the rays of the sun, he experienced
a little relief, but Sambo continued to complain bitterly of the heat,
and the oppression of the air, which, he said -- "lie on him head, and
him shoulder, like blanket."
Charles concluded that it was this unusual heat which had affected him
so severely; but yet he well remembered that some of his symptoms exactly
resembled those of which Captain Gordon used to complain; and he began
to think, with great justice, that he had caught the fever of which he
died. Under this idea, whenever Sambo suggested the idea of going for his
master, or firing the gun as a signal of distress, Charles told him not
to do so, for it would only alarm his father, and cause him to come, and
catch the complaint also; and when he desired Sambo to give him a little
water, or squeeze the juice of an orange for him, he always said -- "Don't
come too near me, Sambo, or you will take my complaint" -- "And, Sambo,
if I die, re member to be very, very attentive to poor papa; you can swim
as well as him, and I hope you will both get away when I am gone" -- "You
will be better without me, Sambo."
This was a kind.of comfort the poor boy could not accept; his grief
broke out into violent exclamations, during which Charles thought he heard
his papa's gun fired; but as his head was laid on the pillow, he could
not be certain., for Sambo had made a considerable noise at the same moment.
As, however, it was now beginning to grow rather dusk, and they were both
aware that Mr. Crusoe would deem it right that he should know Charles was
ill, since he was in possession of some medicines.which might be useful,
after lighting a lamp (which was amongst their most valuable treasures),
and placing water and fruit within his reach, Sambo set out to urge his
master to return.
Some time after he was gone, Charles dropped into a kind of troubled
slumber; and when he awakened from it, his recollection was confused. Various
images flitted before his eyes; sometimes he thought himself on shipboard
during the storm; at others, that he was in his late happy dwelling at
Bombay. He called aloud to Sambo and his father many times, but no voice
answered thim, except that of the parrot. Then he recollected Captain Gordon,
and thought he was conversing with him; and again he believed himself in
the sinking ship, for the thunder rolled with tremendous violence, the
trees bent down to the ground beneath the wind, and sounded like the waves
of the sea; and again he expected to be swallowed up every moment, as he
had done a week before.
At length the sense of his more lonely situation, as being unsupported
by the tender sympathy of his father, struck him forcibly, and rising from
his bed, he crept forward to the mouth of the cave, but the wind and the
rain drove him in again; and fearing that both his father and Sambo were
lost, and expecting every moment the same fate, he knelt upon the floor,
and earnestly besought the Almighty to receive his soul, and permit him,
for his Redeemer's sake, to rejoin the beloved parent now taken from him.
This pious exercise of his mind, though he was doubtless in a delirious
state, brought back to his aching heart the memory of his father's tenderness,
and he wept long and bitterly. At length, being worn out with sorrow, terror,
and disease, he sunk into a profound sleep upon the grass, on which he
had been kneeling.
When poor Charles raised his head from the ground, a sweet breeze was
playing in the cave, and a delicious smell from the trees and flowers revived
him; he arose, and looked around, and saw the sun shining as at noonday;
but the heat was by no means intense, and every thing around looked exceedingly
beautiful, as if it had been refreshed by recent showers. He now thought
that he had been harassed by troubled dreams, and began by degrees to recollect
all that had occurred to him, -- "It is plain," said he, "that I have slept
very late, and my father, knowing I was ill yesterday, has left me to repose.
Well, I am much better; my head does not throb now: it is time I went out
to do my share in watching; besides, I think I am hungry." When poor Charles
looked round, he saw water of which he eagerly drank, also dates upon one
leaf, and oranges upon another, which recollecting something of Sambo having
arranged for him, excited his surprise. He found himself so weak, that
he could scarcely crawl out of the hut, when the first thing he beheld,
was the tree in which his parrot had been hung, laid prostrate on the ground,
and the poor bird; though not otherwise injured, as completely wetted as
when he was dipped in the sea. Little thinking how much greater misfortunes
had arisen to him, Charles rescued and fed his favourite, assisting him
to dry his feathers; and afterwards, he helped himself to some of the provisions
he found in the hut, wishing at the same time that Sambo had been with
him, to have lighted a fire, and made him a cup of coffee, of which they
had fortunately preserved a large canister; and for some time he could
not help feeling that it was unkind in them to leave him when he was so
ill.
As soon as he felt himself able, he proceeded to that place on the shore
which he considered it his duty to attend, and there found, to his great
vexation, that the tree on which their flag had waved was laid prostrate,
though the sheet was still upon it; and that his gun was sunk, and in a
manner buried under the sand. Terrible proofs of the severity of the late
storm were seen on every side; and he began to doubl whether all the devastation
he witnessed had occurred in the night. A strong idea rose on his mind,
that it had been partial daylight at the time when he witnessed the storm;
and from the state of extreme weakness he experienced, he thought that
he had slept at least twenty-four hours, and of course been without food
of any kind two days and a night -- "Then where can my papa be?"
When this terrible question had passed the mind of the poor boy, he
felt as if he must run that moment all over the islands to look for him.
Alas! he was able to proceed only a very short way, for the high wet grass
was to him, for the present, an invincible barrier. He was sadly grieved
to think that he could not fire his gun, and bring them to his assistance;
and his mind was full of fears, lest his father should have been injured
by the storm. Findirig. it impossible to proceed to the end of the island,
he returned to the hut, and began, as well as his weak state permitted,
to get the materials for a fire, saying, "When poor papa comes in, I will
have something warm for him."
Grinding the coffee and boiling it, scraping the biscuit, which was
very mouldy, setting the place to rights, as well as he was able, and rejoicing
that the rain had been driven over and and not into the hut,
and that there were a pair of pistols in it which were uninjured by the
weather, employed the mind of Charles till it was quite late at night,
when all his anxiety returned. Many a time did he go forth, and shout with
all the strength he had; but, alas! that was little; and he had a kind
of comfort in thinking, that if he could have made more noise, they would
have heard him. He then returned, took a little of the coffee, and ate
the dates, reserving the biscuit for his father, saying -- "Surely I shall
be better to-morrow;" and often did he repeat to himself his dear father's
advice, never to despair. Having lately slept such an unusual time, he
now watched the live-long night; but towards morning, his harassed mind
happily gave way to that refreshment which was now the only restorative
of his enfeebled frame.
On awaking, he was sensible of a.considerable accession of health; and
having earnestly intreated help from Heaven, he cut himself a staff from
the nearest tree, and set out to seek his father, taking with him a portion
of biscuit, and a bottle of cordial, under the idea that wherever he might
be, he was in a state of anxiety and exhaustion.
Charles found the labour of walking much less than it had been on the preceding
day, because the wet high grass was considerably dried; and when he had
proceeded about half-a-mile, he became sensible that the hurricane which
had swept so furiously over one part of the little island, had scarcely
touched the other. He had seen many trees blown down,several scathed by
the lightnings in the beginning of his walk; but as he proceeded., these
appearances ceased, and every thing looked the same as it did on the evening
when he walked round the island with his father.
It was still very difficult for him to proceed, in his weak state, through
the brushwood and grass, without his dear father's arm, and he could, not
help entertaining many terrible surmises. Though the wind and rain had
confined their ravages to one end of the island, the lightning had probably
fallen at the other, and his poor father might be, at that moment, a corpse.
When he emerged from the wood, which completely occupied the middle
part of the island, (and, as he hoped, approached the spot where his father
kept watch), he fired his pistol, and listened, with intense anxiety, for
some answer. He was too weak to raise a loud halloo, therefore he could
only practise this mode of challenge; but his repeated firings gained no
attention; and he pushed on in extreme agitation, sometimes running a few
yards, at others trembling to such a degree, that he sunk down on the ground,
as if he could rather die than proceed any further, lest he should find
his father a corpse, and Sambo weeping over him.
At length poor Charles reached the point where his father had proposed
to watch. It was evident he had done so for the sheet was waving from the
tree at the farthest end, and a little nearer there was a large stone,
which appeared to have been rolled thither, for the sake of forming a seat.
Near it lay his father's silk pocket-handkerchief, (which he seized with
eagerness, crying aloud -- "Papa, papa, where are you?speak to me, pray
speak to me?" But alas! no answer was made; this part (though there were
some trees) was sufficiently open to shew him that no human being was near.
He now perceived that the soft sand seemed as if it had been trodden
by many feet, near the place where he stood; but yet it might be only those
of his father, as he walked up and down the beach, looking out for a vessel.
This place was so evidently the best in the island for such a purpose,
that it was utterly unlikely his father should have removed to any other.
It was possible -- barely possible, that, worn out with watching, he had
returned to the hut, to procure provisions, by one coast of the island,
whilst Charles came by the other -- "But then, where was Sambo?"
At all events, weary and faint as he was, he determined to go round
that way; but just as he was leaving the little promontory for that purpose,
he perceived a cloak, which Sambo wore in rainy weather, (and which it
was very probable he had put on, when he went to his father), lying amongst
some bushes. What could he-think? Had either one, or both of those he had
lost, been killed by the lightning, he should have found their remains.
There were no wild beasts on the island, so that they could not have been
destroyed. -- "No! no! in a little time he should see them! He must not
allow himself to despair."
But it was not a little time, in his present enfeebled and agitated
state, that would take the poor boy the circuit he had prescribed himself,
though the way was less difficult from impediments than that which he had
traversed. He loaded his pistol, took up his staff, and walked forward
carefully, as if he feared the creatures which he yet knew the place to
be free from. But it was in vain that he looked either towards the beach
and the wide expanse of ocean, on the one hand, or among the foliage and
high grass on the other; he reached the hut, at length, and, alas! it too
was empty, and exactly as he had left it.
The sorrow, the very agony of Charles, now knew no bounds. He had lost
his father, who was to him his whole world: his desolation and misery was
beyond any thing that we can conceive a child to suffer -- there is not
one of my young readers that could have forborne to cry, if they had seen
him, thrown on the ground, weeping and wailing for very anguish: he was
weak and ill and had no one to nurse and comfort him; he loved his father
with the tenderest affection, and he was torn from him, he knew not how;
no human being was left on this desolate island, save him now perishing
in the cold grave: his situation was desperate and hopeless, beyond all
other situations of misfortune and wretchedness.
Last night had been one of wakefulness and sorrow, not unmixed with
anger, for he felt that he ought to have been attended to, as being sick;
but now no anger blended with his deep, deep affliction. Once it crossed
his mind, that, perhaps, his father had seen a vessel, hailed it, and been
taken away by it; but this idea he repelled with scorn and indignation.
-- " No! no!" he cried; "never would my dear, good father have forsaken
me. He would have died a thousand times first! besides, where is poor Sambo?
why was his cloak left on the shore? Perhaps they ventured to bathe in
the sea, or they swam out together to get the boat, and they are both lost.
Oh that I had died with them!"
So extreme was the weakness and exhaustion that the poor child now suffered,
from his past illness, long exertion, and violent fits of crying, that
he believed he was really going to die; and that God in mercy would remove
him, before another day of misery arose upon him. Under this idea, he rose
from the ground, to open the cage of the poor parrot, that he might go
out and seek for subsistence on the island, when the stock of food he had
given him was exhausted. Poll was very sleepy, but Charles, considering
it the only living thing that had any interest. in him, could not forbear
taking it out, and laid down with it in his bosom, commending himself to
God, and begging that he might die without pain.
He fell into a profound sleep, the consequence of crying so long, and
of the extraordinary exertion he had used. When he awoke, he was sensible
of intolerable hunger; and although his miserable situation came by degrees
forcibly to his mind, yet nature impelled him to seek eagerly for provision,
before he had, as it were time to reflect on his misery. That source from
which he had hitherto been supplied, was now much reduced. The biscuit
was nearly finished, and constituted his present meal, with a cup of spring
water, into which he put a small portion of the liquor from that flask
which he had, the preceding day, taken to support his father, and which
they had found in the captain's pocket. It appeared to be of a very strong,
but an unpleasant taste, and was most probable a medicine of a restorative
quality. Whilst Charles was taking it out of the paper in which it was
wrapt, the parrot jumped about him, saying, "Don't be a child, " "Don't
be a child," and then stalked back into his own cage. and settled himself
comfortably, repeating a few Latin words in a melancholy tone; but from
time to time, he screamed out -- "Don't be a child," vehemently.
Charles recollected that these words had often been used by his tutor,
when he had shewn an indisposition to his lessons; and he had no doubt
but the sight and rustling of the paper had brought them into the bird's
memory: nevertheless, they were words which, in his present forlorn state,
seemed very applicable. He found, to use his own term, that "he could not
die." He remembered that he had once even wished to be placed, like Robinson
Crusoe, on a desert island, and find the means of existence solely from
his own exertion. -- "Ah!" cried he, as this thought came into his mind,
"I was then a very silly boy: I did not know my obligations to my dear
parents, nor our servants, nor even the people amongst whom I lived, since
every creature I knew, more or less, contributed to my safety and happiness.
I am now punished for my ingratitude and folly. I am left to pine away
my life in solitude, to die at last of hunger, without one kind voice to
cheer me."
"Don't be a child," "Don't be a child," cried the parrot.
Poor Charles, who was again weeping bitterly, wiped his eyes, and once
more betook him to searching for any vestiges of his father. As before,
he obtained no trace of him whatever; but in surveying the coast, he found
the boat of which they had been in search, now actually upon the sands,
where it had been left by the receding waves. "Had his father and Sambo
lost their lives in a vain endeavour to regain this boat?" Again he searched
anxiously for their bodies, which, in that case, would, by the same direction
of the waves, have been washetl on the shore. No vestiges of them were
ever found, besides Sambo's cloak, which, it was certain, he would throw
off, when he went into the water to assist his master. "Was it not possible
that they had recovered the boat, and put to sea, with an intention of
fetching him, seeing the boat was considerably nearer to the hut
than the little promontory; and that in this situation they had been picked
up by some vessel from the neighbouring island: or perhaps, they had been
driven very far out to sea, in the violence of the storm, and were then
taken up by some vessel that could not come for him."
In this thought, the poor boy took great comfort; for he was certain
that his father would leave no means untried, to bring him from the island,
when he once reached a port, and had the means of hiring a vessel; and
till that time arrived, he thought he could have patience to wait, and
courage to endure, the evils of his situation.
He remembered that his papa had repeatedly told him, "Never to despair;"
that Captain Gordon had said -- "it was a chance of a thousand that a single
ship should be seen in those seas, for the following three months; but
that after that time, many might be expected to navigate within such a
distance, as that their signals might be seen, so that if they could make
shift to live that time, relief might be confidently expected; especially
if they could construct a boat with which to venture out a few leagues:"
to which Mr, Crusoe had replied -- "With so many birds and hares about
us, and the sea into the bargain, we shall surely not want food; and I
think we shall manage to make a raft of some kind."
"Now I have got a boat," cried Charles, as these words rose to
his mind; and he instantly returned to the hut, where he had still some
cordage, though his father had taken a coil of the best with him, when
he left him for the last time. It was not without great labour that he
at length succeeded in securing the vessel, which he effected, partly by
tying her to the strongest tree in the neighbourhood, and partly by filling
her with stones and sand from the beach. When this was done, he returned
to the hut, lighted a fire, and boiled the last piece of pork he had, in
the tea-kettle, which was the only vessel he possessed, capable of such
a service.
From the time that our unfortunate exile made up his mind not to expect
relief for three months, and to hope that his dear father had, by some
unknown means, been delivered, his mind gained considerable strength, and
he resolved that he would indeed "not be a child," but meet the exigencies
of his case like a man. He did not like to hear the parrot use these words,
therefore he took some pains to teach him to say, "Don't despair, my dear
boy," instead, both because the words reminded him of his papa, and taught
him his duty. Of course there were many, many times, when his spirits gave
way, under the sorrows and loneliness of his situation; and some particular
places could never be seen by him without tears, such as the grave of poor
Captain Gordon, the little promontory, and the boat; but nevertheless,
as he daily gained strength, and was at an age when the mind is naturally
buoyant, in the course of a short time he ceased to afflict himself uselessly;
he determined to meet his misfortunes like a man, and fulfilled his intention.
Had he been every day pining after release, had he spent his time in
climbing into high trees, or standing on the spot where the flag was, he
must undoubtedly become so reduced by famine, that he would at length have
been unable to crawl, and in a state of perpetual solicitude during the
day, and every night would have seen him overwhelmed with despair, and
weeping as in his first agonies. He acted with far more wisdom, and therefore
procured more happiness; he remembered particularly all which his father
and the captain had said about idleness, and he resolved to give himself
continual employment, even if his wants did not call for it; he recollected
also, that his tutor, had always pointed out to him the great value of
apportioning certain times of the day to certain studies or amusements,
and he said, "he would do the same," as he was sure the time would pass
much the pleasanter, from having a certain round of occupations.
Charles had with him an excellent watch, but it had not been wound up
for several days; he had likewise lost, as he believed (and truly), one
day in the week; but this he now endeavoured to retrieve. He wound up his
watch, making it twelve o'clock when the sun appeared highest in the heavens;
and as there were a number of slender trees, with long smooth stems, standing
in a cluster near Captain Gordon's grave, he fixed upon them, for what
he called his almanack, and began with cutting a line in the bark for every
day he had spent in the island; this brought to his recollection that the
present day must be a Sunday, therefore he cut the line twice as long,
and putting down his knife, said -- "It is proper I should 'remember the
Sabbath day, and keep it holy,' so I will do nothing to-day but feed my
dear Poll and read my Bible. What a comfort it is that I have a Bible to
read! that when all the books in the ship were gone, this should be saved
in the captain's pocket! when I have done reading, I will try to compose
a prayer, to thank God for this particular blessing,"
When Charles had read several chapters, first in Genesis, and then in
the Acts of the Apostles, which he called the lessons of the day, he recollected
that Robinson Crusoe, in his desert island, had fixed on a place for a
church, and he determined that he would do the same. He knew that his island
was much less than the one described in this favourite story, that it had
no high hill, or romantic rocks; but he remembered that there were two
or three very large venerable trees, in what appeared the midst of it;
and he set out for the first time to examine them. It was from one of these
high trees that Sambo had discovered (or thought he discovered) a vessel,
and this supposition had led to his present situation; but he did not allow
this fact to afflict him now. He said to himself -- "I will make this my
church, in which I will keep Sunday, by reading and praying here; and if
it has innocently been the means of depriving me of my earthly parent,
who knows that it may not give me still more than it has taken away, by
drawing down the mercy of my heavenly parent, who, the Bible says, 'is
a God that answereth prayer,' and even 'from the mouths of babes has ordained
praise."
Charles returned to his hut, composed and happy, making a hearty supper
of dates, and intending the next day to begin a regular course of industry
and care, suitable to his situation and necessities.
The first thing Charles did on Monday morning, was to examine the stores
of his hut. They consisted of three canisters of gunpowder, not containing
more than two-pounds each; a large earthen bottle of lamp oil, and flask
of olive oil; about a dozen cocoa-nuts, and a famous canister of coffee;
a jar of molasses, and another of warm pickles. All the things they secured,,
(except a small barrel of pickled pork,) had been got from the captain's
cabin, and consisted of a tea-kettle, coffee-biggin, two cups, and a basin;
three knives, an odd fork, a coat and cloak, a razor-case, medicine-chest,
and his bed, which has been already mentioned.
In addition to these things, (taken out at the time of the wreck,) they
afterwards secured two guns, a tin lamp, and a box of clothing, which had
been appropriated as a seat by Mr. Crusoe. There was a wine barrel observed
to stick fast in the sand, which it had been Mr. Crusoe's intention to
secure; but the death of the captain following so soon, put it out of his
mind. On looking over these things, Charles necessarily came to that valuable
property, left by that poor gentleman, and he took care to keep it safe
as before; but he could not help saying -- "Ah! of how little value is
money to me now! these bonds and bills, and even these glittering jewels,
if they were my own, I should gladly exchange for bread and meat, of even
the poorest kind that could be given me."
After replacing his stores, and allaying his hunger with one of the
cocoa-nuts, he proceeded to the place where his gun remained buried under
the sand; and after a good of trouble, succeeded in getting it out; after
which he set seriously to work to clean it. Charles had never really worked
before in his life, though he had lately done many things of the same nature:
he was very proud when he got it again into order, considering it as the
only thing he had to depend upon for his future subsistence; and therefore,
as soon as his job was completed, he loaded it, and went towards the upper
end of the island, to see if he could shoot one of the little hares which
he had frequently seen running amongst the grass.
Charles was exceedingly fond of all animals, and his heart ached at
the thoughts of killing any of those innocent creatures, which he considered
as having a better right to the island than he had; and it was a long time
before he could persuade himself to fire. He however recollected that he
had seen no cocoa-nuts on the island, that the dates were very small, that
his hunger was very great, and. not likely to he appeased without animal
food, and that undoubtedly if his father had remained on the island, he
would have shot many of them before this time. Thus encouraging himself,
he at length fired, and shot a fine leveret in the head, which of course
died instantly, to his great satisfaction, as it would have grieved him
sadly to witness the pangs of death. He took it up and carried it to the
hut, where he lighted a fire, intending to roast it as his father had roasted
some fish, by putting a stick into the ground, to which it was tied, and
first doing one side and then another. He found this animal of course much
more troublesome to cook than the fish had been, because of the skin; and
to him the task of skinning it was so difficult and disgusting that he
thought if he lived a year at the island, he would never shoot another;
but wllen it was roasted, he made a very hearty meal, and put by the remainder,
with sincere thankfulness for such a needful refreshment.
Every day of his life he walked to the promontory, to see that the flag
was still hanging; and he generally came home past the boat, to see that
it also was safe. One day, when he went as usual, he was exceedingly alarmed
bv perceiving a monstrous large fish, close by the side of it, opening
a tremendous mouth, and gazing with a pair of prodigious eyes at him, as
if it would swallow him instantly. He retreated as fast as possible, and
then turning, fired, on which the creature, after beating the sand with
its tail in an outrageous manner, floundered back into the sea, leaving
poor Charles in such a tremour as he had never been, since the time when
he first found that he was left fatherless and friendless on this desolate
island.
"Surely," said the poor boy, "my father did not fall a prey to that
horrible creature, or such as he is!" The thought was so terrible, that
he could not sustain it; and therefore when he got home, he began reading
the history of Joseph and his brethren, to put it out of his mind. Indeed,
whenever he felt anxious or unhappy, he always began to read the Bible,
either to strengthen his faith in the goodness of God (through the merits.of
our Redeemer), or to amuse and divert him, by the extraordinary and interesting
persons and events of which it treats. Many a time did Charles wonder that
he knew so little of the Bible; but for that very reason, it had, at this
time, the advantage of being entirely new to him. He knew that his mama
read frequently in it; and that she used to hear him read, and so did his
father; but though they said it was beautiful and excellent, he had always
considered it as a kind of task it was his duty to perform, not an actual
pleasure, as he now found it to be; so that he could scarcely lay it down,
from any motive but that of hunger. When his spirits had become composed,
he considered, that probably the creature in question was a shark, of which
he had heard the sailors talk a good deal as being a most ravenous creature,
and also that they were frequently seen before a storm; so he began to
consider that perhaps another tempest would soon be visiting the island,
and he must guard, as well as he could, from the effects.
His first care was to gather all the dates he could, since although
they were not near so fine as those in India, they were very valuable to
him, for he eat them as bread to his coffee, which was generally his first
meal, and afterwards to his meat, if he had got any: they also formed the
staple food of his parrot. He took great pains in laying them out to dry
in the sun, turning them, so that they were in a manner cured for keeping;
after which he dug a deep hole in the dry sand, and covering the inside
with large dry plantain leaves, he laid the dates in layers, securing a
stock, which was likely, as he thought, to last him all through the succeeding
winter, if he remained on the island so long, which was but too probable.
He next proceeded to gather figs, guavas, and oranges, so as to get a good
stock; the figs he preserved in the same way as the dates, and the guavas
he used for food at the present time, because they would not keep. As many
large birds had lately been seen on the northern coast of the island, he
took some pains in shooting them, for the purpose of drying their flesh
by hanging it in the sun, to serve him during those months when it was
probable they would have forsaken the island. He also contrived to make
a fireplace, less liable to be affected by the wind than it had hitherto
been, by building a wall, partly of sea-sand and partly stone, with three
sides about a yard high, by which means the heat of the fire was preserved,
and the smoke conducted to a certain height. Often would he ruminate on
the possibility of having a fire within his hut, but this he found to be
impossible, because there was no vent for the smoke; and if he had attempted
to pierce a hole through the top, it might probably all come tumbling at
once about his head, and both destroy his habitation and bury his property.
In order to guard, as well as possible, against the evils of winter, he
next made a very great collection of firewood, by gathering innumerable
slicks, together with pieces of the wreck, which was now completely dried,
from long exposure on the beach; and these he built up on the outside of
his hut to a great distance, leaving himself only a narrow entrance, which
he could close easily by a piece of board from within. When he had, with
great labour and considerable ingenuity, got this construction finished,
he set himself to work to thatch it all over, in such a manner as to keep
out the wet, if any violent rain should come, remembering that the external
covering would both keep his firewood dry, and himself warm, when the cold
winds of winter should arrive. He wished much that he could cut some flat
turf; but as he had only such a shovel as is used in parlours, for this
purpose, he could not manage it; and he was obliged to use some large leaves,
from a tree in the upper part of the island, but he found that they answered
extremely well. His first care was every morning, as soon as he had prayed
to God, to go and cut the notch in his almanack trees; and never did he
fail to keep the seventh day as a day of rest, and holy observance; but
the number of weeks he thought he would not count, until there was a great
many, in order that he might not harass his mind with watching for ships,
whilst there was yet no chance for him to see any.
After seeing the great fish we have mentioned, he did not go near the
boat, for above,a week; and when he then visited it, he heard a great rush
in the water, which made him think the old enemy was returned; as, however,
he was well armed, he ventured to go forward, and jumping into the boat,
he looked around carefully but fearlessly. He perceived great quantities
of the most beautiful sea-shells he had ever beheld, upon the shore; and
on stooping over the side of the boat, to gather some, saw, under the shade,
a fine turtle. This was to him a valuable prize, since he could instantly
kill it, and carry it home; and it was a kind of food he greatly needed,
for such was his fear of expending powder, before the time came for firing
signal-guns, that he had lately again.suffered for the want of animal food,
having confined himself to dates, and the remains of his cocoa-nuts, which,
although nutritive, were not sufficient food for a boy who was growing
very .fast, and had been used to every comfort in his earlier days. It
must be remembered, that he had neither bread, butter, milk, nor wine;
the dried dates, on which he principally lived, had now no sweetness to
tempt his palate; so that he hardly ate more than barely sufficed to allay
his appetite, and certainly required more.
The turtle was not only a present prize, but a promise for the future;
and as it accounted for the great fish haunting the shores, (since it probably
sought food as well as himself), he lost that painful idea which had frequently
crossed his mind, in spite of all his care to expel it, that his dear father
had been devoured by the monster, who had followed the boat to find another
victim.
We mentioned, that on arriving at the place where he found the turtle,
he was well armed. This was by a contrivance of his own. He had broken
down a young bamboo tree, about seven feet high, and having split the end
of it, and taken one of Captain Gordon's razors out of the haft, he inserted
it into the nick, contriving to put a little nail, which he picked out
of' the timbers of the ship, through the hole of the rivet, and then tying
the whole very firm, with the fibres of a plant. With this weapon he contrived,
many times, to kill fish in the clear riils of the island, and sometimes
birds also, which was a great comfort to him, as every tiling which saved
his gunpowder seemed to him a present gain.
When he had been about two months on the island, the chanire of weather
he had anticipated came suddenly upon him. One Friday evening it began
to rain violently, just in the way of a thunder shower; but yet it continued
so incessantly, that neither that day, nor three succeeding ones, could
he venture out of the hut, where he found the value of the large stock
which he had prepared for fuel, as the rain never penetrated his cavern,
though the sound it made, in battering against the dry leaves, or trickling
amongst the wood where it found entrance, was so great, that it seemed
as if he were seated in the midst of a cascade, or about to be overwhelmed
beneath the waves of the sea.
The poor parrot was so much frightened, that he could not be easy any
where but in the arms of his loving master, frequently crying out -- "Captain
Gordon ahoy," "Never despair, my dear boy," and every thing else that he
had been taught, which sometimes made his poor master smile, notwithstanding
the awkwardness of his situation. As his hut was quite dark, he lighted
his lamp, which was a luxury he rarely indulged, (as he generally rose
and laid down with the sun, on purpose to save his oil); and as his last
stock of turtle was in the hut, he warmed it by degrees over the lamp,
and fed Poll with some cocoa-nut, as he could not fetch him any dates from
the store.
Terrible as his situation would have appeared to his tender mother,
had she beheld him thus cooped up in his solitary hut, oyer which a deluge
was descending, that threatened every moment to overwhelm him, yet Charles
himself was sensible of many comforts; and most devoutly thanked his heavenly
Father for the shelter and food which he was blessed with, and the pleasure
he experienced in having his poor parrot to speak to, and his lamp to warm
his food, and cheer his darksome dwelling. -- "Surely," said he, "I may
say, that considering my lonely situation, I am very well off; for although
I am really houseless, yet I have a dwelling, which is the more remarkable,
because the island is not rocky, as many places are. If it is not rich
and fruitful, yet there are no venomous reptiles, no wild beasts, and there
is plenty of good sweet water, and little dates, which are better than
if they were bigger; for if the trees had been very tail, I could never
have climbed into them, now poor Sambo is not here to help me -- and then,
what a comfort it is to have this good book to read, full of so much information,
about all the most material things that have happened ever since the world
began, and which tells me of what will take place when the world has an
end! If I did but know what had become of my dear papa, really I should
not be so very ill off, after all; I have surely reason to believe that
the great God and Father of all, looks down upon me with pity, though I
am but a poor insignificant child, left (as it were) to perish on a lonely
island."
At length the pattering ceased, and a brisk air seemed stirring on the
island; and Charles gladly crept out of his hiding-place, anxious to see
the change this deluge might have made, and especially to examine the state
of his dates, which he greatly feared would be entirely ruined. He found
the usual rills of the island running like rivers into the sea, which also
appeared to have encroached exceedingly on his little territory; and things
seemed altogether so much changed that he dreaded not finding the spot
where his stores were garnered, a matter of the greatest importance, as
he had no other supply for the present. After he had cut his usual notches,
he began to count the trees, which brought him to two palms, where he had
formed his reservoir. The sandy soil was so deeply saturated with the rain,
that, after labouring in removing it till he was quite worn with toil,
he was obliged to return to the hut, without accomplishing his object;
but he took care to cover the place well with leaves, that he might resume
his task the next day; and he returned to make himself a fire, and get
once more a cup of coffee, to which he had yet a few figs, which were left
in his hut.
During the time he was digging, Charles was too busy to be aware of
the great change in the atmosphere; but he now became sensible that it
was extremely cold, and that a supply of cloathing was not less necessary
to him than food. After he had lighted his fire, and ground, or rather
crushed, his coffee, between two flat stones, he put on that cloak of Sambo's
which he had found; and after cutting two holes with the razor, for his
arms, he tied it round him, with a rope of long grass, and found it added
much to his comfort; but his legs and arms were still cold; and he now
observed, with great regret, that his shoes would scarcely keep on his
feet three days longer. His stockings were nearly quite gone; and his shirt,
which he used frequently to take off, wash in the brook, dry in the sun,
and then put on again, was now torn in so many places, that he had very
little good of it.
In this dilemma, he once more determined, if possible, to get to the
inside of the box, which had never yet been used for any thing but a seat,
and which was so well made, that he had not any instrument whereby he could
effect an entrance into it. It now struck him, that the best thing he could
do, was to shoot the box; and accordingly he dragged it out, as far as
he could, from the hut, as be durst not fire into his dwelling, lest he
should injure something besides the box. When we consider that the loss
of a single cup would have been irreparable to him, we shall not wonder
that he was as much afraid of injuring his little black hole, as if it
had been a splendid drawing-room, and that he prepared for this affair,
with as much solicitude as if he had been about to spring a mine.
It was Charles's great object to obtain entrance into the box, but by no
means to break it in pieces; he had found it a difficult matter to construct
a table, on which to place his necessaries, and he was aware that he had
no means of replacing his seat. By calculating the strength required for
mailing a sufficient aperture, he had the satisfaction of making a large
hole in the lid, without shattering it, and he then dragged it back again,
eager to examine the contents and earnestly hoping that he should find
it contain the cloaths of a very small gentleman, who had been drowned,
with the rest of the passengers, when their ship was wrecked.
To the great mortification of poor Charles, the uppermost thing in the
box was a number of ostrich feathers, carefully enclosed in silk handkerchiefs.
-- "What a very foolish person" cried he, "must the owner of this box have
been, to pack up- such paltry things as feathers! Why, all this end of
the island is full of feathers, and, in my opinion, much more beautiful
ones than these; and I have never picked up any of them. Well! let us see
a little farther."
He next drew out a piece of muslin, as thin as a cobweb, sprigged with
gold: the poor boy shook his head: a piece of silver muslin followed, then
a case of trinkets, and after that, a beautiful gown of China crape. --
"What a great deal of trouble I have taken.for nothing!" cried Charles,
looking towards his parrot, as if asking for sympathy.
Don't despair, my dear boy," replied Poll, winking his eyes, and shaking
his head very significantly.
Something soft to the touch now encouraged the seeker, and he drew forth
a large camel's hair shawl, on which he gazed with great delight, knowing
that it was both the lightest and warmest of all substances; and that he
could fold it about his body, in such a manner as to afford him great relief
from the severest weather. Next came some linen garments, which, although
not of the form he desired, were yet very welcome; as were also some silk
stockings and kid shoes -- "I wish," said Charles, "they had been worsted
stockings and stout shoes; but these will be better than nothing, for I
can twist grass ropes all over them: and here is another shawl -- a great
beauty, worked with a gold border, and altogether thick and strong; of
this I will make a sail when I put my boat in order -- it will be just
the thing for it."
The next thing was a ladies' dressing-box, in which, to his great joy,
were needles and thread, with a penknife, scissors, inkstandish, writing
paper, and pens. This was a treasure indeed. There was also a purse, with
money in it; and some rings, but as they were,quite useless, they scarcely
drew his eye: but at the bottom were some valuable furs, intended, probably,
for muffs or trimmings; of these Charles determined to make himself some
sort of a cap, having no other covering for his head than a kind of turban,
formed for him by his papa, out of the captain's pillow-case, as he had
been without his hat at the time of the wreck.
The first use which he made of his prize was to take the largest skin,
and make it, as well as he could, into a bag, into which he put the parchments
and jewels of poor Captain Gordon, and sewed them carefully up, determining,
since the weather was so cold, to wear them at present, about his person.
-- "I am but a young guardian," said he, "for the widow and the fatherless;
but I will be a careful one. Many and many a time, do I fear that my poor
father and Sambo were stolen from this island, by pirates, or some kind
of bad people; and if by the poor boy's confession, or my papa's entreaties,
they should return here to take me, and what else they might find, by this,
means I might save the property, and send it some time to the true owner."
When any idea of his papa's imprisonment or suffering, got possession
of Charles's mind, it gave him such deep sorrow, that he was compelled
to drive it from him, either by setting out on some little expedition,
or reading in his Bible. He now thought the best thing he could do was
to write, and became impatient to try. Unfortunately he had no table, and
if he turned up the box to make it one, he had no seat; and with all his
care to keep the hut dry it was still damp on the ground; he was therefore
obliged to renounce this amusement, for the present and employ himself
in restoring the contents of the box to their old place, as well as he
was able; but this was no easy matter.
Whilst he was doing this, he recollected that he had never explored
the locker of the boat, in which it was possible there might be something
useful, and which he might enter by the same key which had opened the box;
and as he must now endeavour to shoot a bird, of which there were great
numbers on the island, he might as well go on the morrow -- " Yet surely
his first care ought to be given to the dates, which were too probably
all spoiling, and which the parrot greatly needed."
In the multiplicity of his business, on this eventful night, he almost
forgot his desolate situation; but the cold wind which blew through his
little den, and the insufficient food he had taken, compelled him to remember
it; and he crept to bed, to forget his wants and his cares in sleep; but
not till he had devoutly thanked God, for the blessings which remained
to him.
The next day Charles opened out his dates, and had the satisfaction
to find, that except the topmost layers, they remained uninjured. He took
out a stock for several days, and covered the remainder with more care
than before, heaping up the sand over them in the form of a pyramid; by
which means he not only saved them from any future rain, but marked the
place where they were laid. He had not much fear of the winter, for he
knew the climate here must be warmer than in Bombay; and,of the frost and
snow of England, he had no recollection; and he reflected, with some comfort,
that his food would now keep a much longer time than it used to do.
He now went towards the shore, where many aquatic birds were assembled
together, apparently preparing for flight: they had come, in great numbers,
just before the rain, and seemed now about to return to the neighbouring
island. Thinking he ought to lose no time, Charles, who had, by this time,
become very expert, shot two of them, which were large, and very beautiful,
somewhat resembling geese, but with much greater beauty of plumage. As
he knew that birds of this description have generally a fishy disagreeable
taste, it struck him, that if he could cook them with some of the hot pickle
(which he had not yet tasted, as he never liked any thing of that kind),
it would render them more palatable, and make tliem keep longer. Accordingly
he took them to the hut, stripped off their skins, with the feathers, and
having, with a great deal of trouble, cut them to pieces, he put part of
them into the kettle, with a little water and some of the pickle, and stewed
them gently for a long time, until all was done; when he put them into
a calabash, which he called a tureen. The gourds which are so called, grow
all over India, and are used, in many places, by the natives, as saucepans,
for they will bear the action of fire exceedingly well; but on this island
they did not grow to a large size. Charles had provided himself with several,
that he might never have his hut without a supply of water, which he frequently
wanted in the night, and also to put his food into, as in the present instance.
He did not find his new cookery half so good as the turtle had been, but
it was very welcome to a hungry boy, and very nutritious; the hot spices
likewise answered the purpose; and he found that he might now be easy,
on the subject of eating, for two or three days, as both himself and Poll
were provided for.
He therefore wrapt himself up, as well as he could, took his gun on
his shoulder, and set out to make his usual circuit of the island. Every
where he was struck with the quantity of fallen leaves, and the feathers
that were flying about, and he had frequently great difficulty in pursuing
his way. He found the sheet still flapping in the air, at the end of the
island, to his great satisfaction, as he had feared that it was lost, and
he knew that he could not have fastened any other thing so well as his
father had done this.
He then went forward, and in due time reached the beach, where he left
the boat, which was now riding on the water, but appeared perfectly safe
and sound, to his great satisfaction; and as he was naturally a courageous
boy, and very fond of the water, his heart throbbed with delight, at the
idea of setting out in this little vessel, and sailing over the wide sea,
which, at this moment, lay like a clear blue mirror before him. Being extremely
anxious to secure it, he tightened the ropes, and drew it a little nearer
to the shore, when his desire to examine it so far influenced him, that
he waded into the water and got into it, and was rewarded for his exertion,
by finding a turtle within it, which had probably been washed into it in
the late commotion of the elements: having turned the creature on its back,
he began his preparation for shooting open the locker of the boat; but
soon found that with the help of a stone, he could open it by taking a
little pains, and he was of course glad to have powder.
To his joy and surprise, the locker was quite full of something, and
as it was always likely that the poor people who took refuge in the boat,
would take with them what supplies they could procure, in their terror
and hurry of the moment, Charles felt surprised to think that he had hitherto
overlooked such a material probability. "How often," said he, "have I been
hungry since this boat was driven on shore, and above all things, distressed
for a bit of bread to eat with my coffee, and all the time there was a
case of biscuits lying here! here is some beef also, I declare, and a pair
of trowsers -- they are a great prize: and here is something rolled up
in this jacket -- it is a little keg, and most pobably has brandy in it;
and even that may be useful to me. The bitter hot liquor in the captain's
bottle did me a great deal of good, when I was so weak and ill, I remember."
The next question was, how he could get these things home. The biscuits
were in a tin case, and appeared to have been something of a superior quality,
probably having belonged to some delicate female, and though they were
now far from their first state, Were too valuable to be parted with; and
these he resolved in the first place, to secure, together with the turtle;
the latter he tied with the grass bands which he had twisted round his
ancles, fast by the claws, and swung it over his neck, and the tin case
he took under his right arm, and jumping into the water, he took hold of
the rope with the left hand, and so guided himself to the land. He found
it very difficult to wade through the sand, when he was so much loaded;
and. when he got out of the water, his feet and ancles were exceedingly
cold, for want of the grass bands, as he had worn them constantly ever
since the rain. In consequence of this feeling, he thought he would go
across the island, by a nearer cut than usual to get to his hut; and as
the leaves were fallen, he knew he could see his way; and accordingly he
pushed into the most woody part of the plain.
Charles had soon great reason to believe that the nearest way was nevertheless
the farthest, for he had much difficulty (being so loaded) to push his
way through the brushwood; and the load at his back rendered him several
times in danger of being suffocated, for when the trees caught the turtle,
the bandage was suddenly drawn across his throat, he was many times obliged
to stop and lay down his tin case, whilst he adjusted his other load; and
he could not help observing, that sometimes "riches themselves were very
burdensome." His spirits were however greatly elated. The air, for the
first time since the rain, was pure and clear, and the sight of the calm
open sea, the soundness of the boat, and the acquisitions found in it,
had all contributed to give him spirits; and he tried to keep them up by
whistling, and contriving where he should stow his new-found property.
When he had proceeded about two-thirds of the way, and began to see his
almanack trees near the hut, he again put down his case, and stood to rest
himself for a few minutes.
At this time he was surprised to hear a low rustling noise, which did
not at all resemble those sounds made by the foundings of the hares, with
which he was well acquainted; he thought however that it might possibly
be some of their young, when in a very feeble state; so he stooped down
to look at them. Judge of his surprise, his absolute horror, on seeing
what appeared to be a whole nest of small green serpents, issuing on every
side, from under the tin case. Of all other things, Charles had the utmost
aversion from a snake, or any of the serpent tribe; the dreadful tales
he had heard in Bombay of the cobra capello, had greatly increased this
feeling, and he would have preferred meeting a tiger; forcing himself through
all impediments, he scampered away as fast as possible towards the sands
of the shore, well knowing that the viperous animals he dreaded, never
expose their delicate skins to the rough stones and gravel; nor did he
dare once to take breath or look behind him, till he found his feet wounded
by those welcome safeguards.
On arriving at his hut, he was not only wearied, but very uneasy. He
had hitherto believed the island to be entirely free from those noxious
reptiles, and he was aware that his ignorance had been happiness to him,
and that he could never again walk about with the same fearless ease to
which he had been accustomed; he had also lost his precious case of biscuits
in his fright, and he thought it would be the height of imprudence to return
for it; had he come the old road, all this vexation would have been spared
him. The reptiles were still a long way from him; it was possible that
they might be harmless, and it was very probable that they lived entirely
on that spot, as he never had seen any before, even when he went to his
church, which was a cluster of trees through the way to which he had always
to encounter the same impediments of brush wood, that he had met with this
morning.
Having devoutly thanked God for the danger from which he had escaped,
his first care was to replace the grass bands with which his ancles had
been wrapped, their present nakedness rendering his past danger the more
striking. This was easily done, as he had a considerable quantity of long
dry grass, or rather hay, within the hut, where he had piled it up, for
the purpose of giving general warmth, and to help the quick lighting of
his fire. When he had accomplished this, he made two long stout ropes on
which to sling the other packages; and having placed his turtle in a secure
place, he once more set out for the boat, fearing lest his gun, which was
in it, should be injured.
This time he went safely, but he could not bring away the barrel, even
by the aid of his ropes; so he determined to take away the contents by
degrees, as he should want them, seeing that they were in such a situation,
that only extreme necessity could compel him to have recourse to such food.
The jacket and trowsers were, on the contrary, most welcome things, especially
as they had belonged to a small man; and he had no doubt, but with his
newly-acquired implements of needle, thread, and scissors, he should soon
render them very comfortable-fitting things.
It was very well for Charles that he was so completely tired, that he
could not forbear to sleep soundly on this night, otherwise he would probably
have spent an uneasy time, thinking of the serpents. The next morning he
was so very busy, that in a great measure they went out of his head.
His first care was to examine the trowsers, in the pocket of which he
found, to his great delight, a comb, a knife for cutting bread and cheese,
and a purse with a marriage certificate in it, a testimonial of good conduct,
to one John Fleming, written by Captain Gordon, and a few shillings. The
tears sprang to Charles's eyes, as he recollected that both the writer
and the poor man written for, were now no more; and that of all that noble
ship's company, it was but too probable he alone survived; for surely,
if his dear father had lived, before this time he would have been able
to have sent or come for him; it seemed now too plain a case that he had
no father, that his relations mourned for him as dead, and would therefore
never seek for him; no, his fate was evident; he must die in this solitude,
or venture out in the boat and perish at sea, for how little, how very
little chance had he for being seen and taken up in this wide ocean!
Charles wept long and bitterly at this time, as he had frequently done
before, when the thoughts of his dear father's death came into his mind;
but he was roused from his present sorrow by a loud screaming of birds
at a little distance, amongst which he fancied the voice of his own parrot
might be distinguished. On looking, he saw that his cage was empty, and
as he had of late either kept within, or gone about the hut at his pleasure,
it struck Charles that he had gone abroad too far, and was got again into
some kind of danger; and he eagerly flew out to seek him, calling him at
the same time as loud as he could.
At a little distance he found, to his sorrow, poor Poll in great distress,
as three parrots surrounded, him, and were violently pecking and ill-treating
him, whilst fluttering his wings and unable to defend himself, he screamed
out -- "Propria qui maribus," "Captain Gordon ahoy;" and when the boldest
pounced forward, as if to destroy him, his cry was, "Never despair, my
dear boy." Charles often laughed afterwards, when he recollected poor Poll's
display of learning at this time; but he was at the moment too angry, and
too much frightened to smile, for it will be readily believed the parrot
was of great consequence to his master. Taking up the instrument he called
his spear, which we have already mentioned, he flew to the spot, and just
as the largest opponent of his bird was again pouncing upon Poll, he gave
him a blow, which proved fatal, as he fell down upon his unresisting foe,
and Charles took them both together. The rest of the noisy tribe took to
flight, and poor Poll soon nestled into his master's bosom, who found his
feathers torn, and his neck bleeding, to his great sorrow. On taking up
the bird he had killed, he found him remarkably large, and more beautiful
than any he had ever seen; and he wished he could have taken him alive,
and tamed him; as, however, what was past could not be recalled, and he
recollected that these birds were good eating, he proceeded to dress and
roast him, and found that parrot was good food, as well as company. Thinking
it probable that his ladies dressing-box might probably contain lip-salve,
or something of the same kind, which might be serviceable to poor Poll's
wounds, he searched it carefully, and found a bottle of cold cream, and
he also saw that in the lid there was a looking-glass.
Nobody can conceive how Charles started when he beheld his own face;
it almost frightened him. His complexion was tanned, from continual exposure
to the elements, till he was almost the colour of Sambo; his hair was grown
prodigiously, and as it was always of a curly nature, it stuck out like
an old matted wig; and as he had no shirt collar, and his clothes consisted
of all colours and shapes, his array was more like that of a gipsy than
a gentleman. "It is a lucky thing," said he, "that nobody sees me, but
a still better, that I have now got a pair of scissors, a comb, and above-all,
half-a-dozen pieces of sweet-smelling soap; I am determined now to make
myself very neat and comfortable."
Accordingly, Charles cut off a considerable quantity of his profuse
locks, and very prudently rubbed his head with a little brandy; and he
took great pains in constructing a cap, which would somewhat shade his
face, being aware that his eyes would be benefited from it, not less than
his complexion. For this purpose, he contrived a cap, both inside and out
of a beautiful skin in the crown part, and for the brim, he got those large
palm leaves which the native Indians use as umbrellas, which he cut and
fastened so, that they shaded both his eyes and shoulders, yet could be,
for convenience, turned up completely in a moment. Finding he became expert
by practice, he next contrived to make the sailor's trowsers tie down under
his feet, and so altered the buttons, that they could be made to fasten
round his waist; finding this additional clothing not only a relief from
the cold, but a probable guard from the enemies he most dreaded.
The following day was Sunday, and he hoped to get once more to his church,
which was one reason why he hastened his work. -- "I know," said he, "it
can make no difference whether I go to church, or stay at home, seeing
I have no sermon to hear, nor any Christian people to meet; yet I do like
to get up into my tree, and consider that I am employed in looking up to
God for help and protection, at the same moment when my dear mother and
sister are looking up to him for me -- that I am reading what they are
reading -- and thinking as they think: besides, I like to look over the
wide sea, when it is calm, and think, by and by, I shall get across it;
and when I am able to see the island of Amsterdam, I always fancy myself
a step nearer to the world."
With these reasons Charles so far reassured himself, that, with his
spear in his hand, he once more set out for his place of worship; and climbing
into his usual branch, read, prayed, and sung for about an hour. As he
descended., he cast many anxious looks around, but he saw nothing of the
serpents, and he could perceive, at no very great distance, his own tin
canister; and he therefore concluded, on the following day, he would make
an effort to recover it, by climbing from tree to tree till he arrived
over the spot where it was, and then pushing it from place to place with
his spear. On second thoughts, as it seemed likely for rain, he thought
it best to do it now; for as he had been reading that the disciples plucked
corn on the Sabbath day, to appease their hunger, he thought it was lawful
for him to secure that bread which he had lately received as an especial
gift of Providence. He soon accomplished the task of reaching the spot,
for he had become almost as nimble as a squirrel, (several of which pretty
animals he found in these large trees; but when he stooped down his spear,
to move the canister, he found that it went every way but the right, and
there was so much brushwood about the place, it was impossible to move
it more than a quarter of a yard at a time; he however got it into a good
position for removing, by a new plan, which, on the following day, he thus
effected.
Having got three nice long sticks, of the willow kind, he tied them
very well in the bow form, to three others, and then took two strong slips,
to which he tied them at equal distances, making a thing something like
a coal-shovel, to which he suspended a cord; with this, and his spear,
he again went as before into the trees, and let down his willow net, with
much care, close to the tin case, hoping that he should be able to catch
it, and hook it up, he having secured one end, so that, if he managed to
get it in at one side, it should not slip out at the other. Often did he
now wish, that, like Robinson Crusoe, he had possessed a sagacious animal,
that could have given him a little assistance; but as, after above two
hours trial, he found it would not go in, without a little lift, at length
he let himself down by the boughs, till he could reach it with one hand,
and slip it into the trap. He then speedily got up again into the tree,
and drawing the cord very steadily, had the satisfaction of finding himself
in possession of that which was to him a richer prize than all the diamonds
of Golconda.
It was, however, a most difficult thing for him to travel hack again,
from bough to bough, and tree to tree, with this cumbersome package, and
his spear also; nevertheless, by being careful and patient, he at length
effected it: when he got near home, he placed the tin case in the sand,
and threw many calabashes of water over it, and wiped it very clean with
one of the silk handkerchiefs he had found in the box, before he carried
it into his hut; for he thought that many of the serpents had gone over
it, and, perhaps, had left a poisonous slime upon it.
"Well now," said he, "I have got something steady on which I can lean
to write. I will empty the biscuits into my leaves and calabashes, and
I will fetch loads of sand in the tin case, till I have raised up a kind
of table, on the top of which I can lay the lid steady, and then I can
write nicely, with the little silver pen, or the nice pencil, that is in
the work-box; and if it should be slippery, I can lay the sailor's jacket
over it."
With these words, Charles took up the jacket, to see if it would answer
the purpose; it was a very shabby affair, and he had not thought of examining
it, though he was well aware it had great value to him, as an increase
of clothing. He now looked for the pockets, and, to his equal surprise
and delight, found, in one of them, a book, and a roll of old songs; and
in the other, a tobacco-box. The book was a volume of Cook's voyages; and
we may readily suppose it appeared, at the present moment, of more value
to the poor boy, than all he had met with before; it was like meeting a
friend in a strange land -- the pleasures of sympathy and companionship
seemed to visit his cell.
Lighting his lamp, and closing his door, he began to read, with all
the avidity natural to a young and curious mind; and probably continued
to do so for great part of the night, for the subjects were of a nature
particularly to interest one, who, young as he was, had experienced so
much of the dangers and distresses to which seamen are subject. At length
he recollected himself, and exclaimed -- "What a treat this book is to
me! but I must not allow it to spend any more of my oil, especially now
I have got food beforehand, and can read it by daylight. Let me thank God,
that I am not eaten, as poor captain Cook was, by a parcel of cannibal
wretches. I see there is nothing so bad in my situation, as it might have
been. I had rather be as I am, than make a feast for a Carib, or become
a slave to an Algerine. If I keep clear of the snakes, I shall do very
well yet; at least I will continue to hope so."
Poor Charles now allowed himself to count the number of weeks, upon the
trees which he had marked, and found that he had passed almost thirteen
in this state of solitude; therefore the time had arrived when he might
with probability hope for relief. If his father and Sambo (as he hoped)
had been taken out of the boat, and carried back to India, or to some of
the islands situate between Africa and Asia, by this time it might be supposed
they would find the means of returning; and at all events, this was the
time when the captain said they might begin to look out for vessels, it
was yet rather cool, but symptoms of spring were already seen, and he would
begin to navigate his boat shortly; "he would manage to put in a mast,
to spread his sail, lay in a little store, and stand out to sea; and he
would take care, that his two pennons were seen flying at either end of
the island."
Having contrived, with some flexible branches, the frame by which he
extricated his tin case, Charles was induced to try his power of making
a bow and arrow, with which to kill the birds necessary for food, as he
became more and more afraid of using powder, the nearer the time came when
it was likely to aid him in escaping.
Having found a paper of strong needles and bodkins, in the work-box
already mentioned, he was enabled to manage this business in a short time,
and he became by practice an excellent marksman; but he had much trouble,
from the insufficient strength of the string, which was of silk twist,
found in the same depository. He also now used the pillow-case as a fishing-net,
in the little streams, opening the mouth with bamboos, and placing it in
little falls of the rivulet, and when any fish went in, drawing it suddenly
up by which means he gained many delicious meals; but there were times
when he was reduced to nothing but his dates, which lasted out extremely
well, but had quite lost all sweetness and flavour, and afforded but little
nourishment.
At length he succeeded in getting his boat out to sea; and as he disliked
that side of the island where it lay, as being frequented by enormous fishes,
his first care was to get round to the little promontory, which he effected
very successfully, contriving to fasten it to the tree from which his flag
was suspended, and on leaving it, waded to the shore, a considerable distance,
having no better method of proceeding. It was now his constant custom to
go every morning into the highest tree in the island, where he generally
stayed to recognise, about an hour; he then returned to the hut, and breakfasted,
and afterwards, with Poll on his shoulder, went down to the promontory,
taking either his new book or his Bible; and there he sat, where his poor
father had sat before him, from time to time casting anxious looks over
the wide expanse of ocean around him, sometimes agitating himself with
the idea that he perceived a far-distant sail, but more frequently aware
that he saw nothing beyond light clouds in the horizon, and that the time
had not yet arrived, when the ships might be expected.
As he could now clearly perceive the island of Amsterdam, he could not
forbear to fancy, that if he could once reach that, one great step would
be taken towards his emancipation. -- "If there are any American sailors
there now," said he, "as there was when the captain was there, how happy
I should be to see them, and live with them, because I speak their language,
and they would be just the same as my countrymen! and if they took me home
to New York, or Boston, I should feel as if I were going to London, and
I could soon be sent thence to England; or they would be very glad to use
my boat, and fetch fresh water from my island, as they have none of their
own; at all events, I will go and see them."
Full of this idea, one beautiful day, when there was a very pleasant
breeze just in the right direction, Charles shipped his parrot, and his
tin case with provisions, hoisting the sail, which he had contrived to
fix with considerable ingenuity, in the manner he had seen practised by
the Hindoos, in their market-boats. He soon left his own little island
far behind, and with a heart panting between hope and fear, began to believe
he had nearly achieved all his wishes. Well recollecting that there was
only one place where he could effect a landing, he kept his eye steadily
fixed on the island, remembering those points mentioned by Captain Gordon;
but became almost appalled as he approached nearer, for its appearance
was forbidding, almost terrific. Just at this time, he fell in with a current,
which rapidly drew him back, the kindly breeze having already failed! When
he was about midway between the two islands, he found himself deserted,
as it were, both by wind and water, alike unable to proceed or return and
his distress much increased, by perceiving dark clouds, portentous of rain,
and probably of storm, gathering over the face of the sky.
Happily the wind did not obtain much power; but a severe rain fell,
which completely soaked him, and rendered it so dark, that he did not dare
to proceed, knowing well there was no safe entrance to his island. In this
terrible situation, therefore, he remained the whole night, his distress
not a little increased by the moanings and vociferations of the parrot,
which he heartily wished he had left behind. The rain ceased before morning,
but it had left him so drenched, and the boat itself so wet, that he had
scarcely the power to exert himself, and it was nearly evening the following
day, when he again found himself on the chores of his island, and succeeded,
after many laborious efforts, to bring his little vessel to the place whence
he had set out; and it was not without danger that he landed himself and
the parrot.
It was with a feeling of an extraordinary nature that Charles pursued
his way to the hut; often had he thought, when contemplating the effort
he had now made, that if he should perish in his attempt, it would be a
much better thing than thus to drag on existence, cut off from all the
ties of kindred, and the blessings of social life. He now became fully
aware, that self-preservation is one of the most abiding propensities of
nature, and that he could not forbear to cherish his life, since he was
sincerely and warmly thankful to God, for having preserved him from his
late danger, and restored him to his humble home, melancholy as it was.
His first care was to take a little food, to which he drank some brandy
and water, having frequently regretted, during the preceding night, that
he had not placed this flask amongst his sea stores. He then proceeded
to make a good fire, that he might dry his clothes; and was now thankful
for the old sailor's jacket, which he put on whilst his own dried, taking
off his other things by degrees, and holding them till they were dry, as
he durst not leave them out, lest the rain should come on again. Finding
himself many times so sleepy that he was nearly falling, he retired very
soon to bed, thankful for that accommodation he had felt the want of so
lately; had soon forgotten all his troubles, and was perhaps, in his dreams,
wafted over pleasanter seas than those he had lately proved, and received
into a far different dwelling from that where his weary head was now pillowed.
How long he had continued in that deep sleep which followed his fatigue,
we know not, but when he was awakened, he thought for a moment that it
was high noon, for the hut was full of light, more full indeed than it
had been for a long time. He started up, and became sensible of an oppression
in his breathing, which at first he thought might proceed from the parrot
hanging round his throat, as it sometimes did; but no parrot was there
-- his hand fell upon him under the bedclothes. At this moment there was
a terrible crackling and hissing, like the burning of green wood, and instantly
he became sensible that his hut was on fire. Gathering his blanket and
the bird in it closely round him, he rose, and burst resolutely through
the stack of burning sticks, which covered the front of his dwelling, and
which were so far consumed that they gave way and crumbled to pieces as
he pressed upon them; and he escaped without injury, except to his feet,
which were a little scorched, but which he did not feel, at the present
moment of terrible alarm. When he had got sufficiently far from the fire
for personal safety, his first care was to see if he had indeed preserved
the parrot and finding Poll was uninjured, save by fright, (for the creature
trembled exceedingly,) he rolled him in the blanket, and ventured again
towards the hut.
It was now early morning, but very gloomy; a slight rain was falling,
and Charles earnestly hoped it would Increase, as the only means of preserving
the contents of his hut from destruction. The consequence of losing his
mattress, clothes, gun, indeed all his means of existence, rushed forcibly
on his mind, and gave him a sense of new sorrow and helplessness which
almost distracted him. -- "What shall I do?" he cried, in agony. "Oh my
God, have pity upon me! have pity upon me!"
The sound of his voice alarmed the parrot anew, and the poor creature
screamed so loud, that Charles was called upon by his humanity, (which
never forsook him,) to return to it. He thought that perhaps in his fright
he had smothered the poor bird, and he hastened to unrol[l] the blanket,
and liberate the sufferer. In doing this, he regained the presence of mind
so necessary for himself: he recollected hearing that a wet blanket was
an excellent thing for putting out fire, and he lost not a moment in plunging
this into the stream, and then carrying it, all dripping, to his hut, when
he again stepped through the hot ashes, and spread it over the place which
was just beginning to take fire.
The heat and smoke were at this moment quite suffocating, yet conscious
of his own wet state, he stopped to snatch his shoes, and an empty calabash,
with which he made so many journeys to the spring, that, (with the assistance
of the rain), he had soon the satisfaction of believing that the danger
was over, and the contents of his hut safe, though damaged: the smell was
intolerable, the smoke oppressive, but the danger was passed. Had it occurred
in summer, the whole island would unquestionably have been on fire, like
that of Madeira soon after its discovery.
Kneeling down within sight of the smouldering spot, Charles devoutly
thanked his almighty Preserver for his almost miraculous delivery from
an awful and terrible death; and under the impression thus made, professed
himself humbly resigned to enduring the evils of life, in that way which
it might please his heavenly Father to inflict, entreating that he might,
in all things, be enabled to say from his heart -- "Not my will, but thine,
be done."
When he rose from his knees, Poll flew upon his shoulder, and, in his
usual way, intimated his desire for breakfast. After throwing a few more
gallons of water about the place, Charles took the only method of complying
with his request now convenient, by setting off for the boat. The morning
was exceedingly misty, so that it was of no use to climb the trees which
he passed in his road; but by the time he arrived, the sun shone pleasantly,
and the rain seemed over. He stripped off his clothes, thinking that a
sea bathe would do him good; and on getting to the boat, found the tin
case and the shawl-sail perfectly safe, but he brought them both away with
him; and on his return, sat down and breakfasted, as well as Poll, though
the repeated frights he had suffered, in the last forty-eight hours, and
the great fatigue he had gone through, made him feel so unwell, that, for
a short time, he was afraid that the fever was returning.
After sitting two hours quietly, and reading two or three chapters in
the New Testament, (his Bible having been left in his tin box,) he felt
himself much recovered; and not doubting but the smoke was now entirely
gone, he determined on returning to the hut, and examining the extent of
his loss, concluding, with great truth, that although he should have occasion
for much toil, in setting his little homestead to rights, yet that every
thing he saw would remind him of the goodness and mercy of God, whose eye
must be over all his works, since he had looked upon him, in this desert
corner. -- "Ah!" exclaimed he, as he pressed the blessed volume to his
lips, in which he had been reading, "it is indeed plain, that though I
am a poor useless child, and often a naughty one too, 'I am of more value
than many sparrows' yet even they are cared for, by him who created them."
When Charles arrived at the hut, he found that the embers had now ceased
to smoulder, that the smoke was dispersed, and of course, the mouth of
the hut was all open, as it had been three months before. On entering,
he observed no other harm, than that which had been done by the wet blanket,
which had preserved his mattress and his box from the fire, most probably.
The gun was placed in the most distant part of the cave, and the powder
buried in a hole in the earth so that it would have been some time before
either were injured; but if the mattress had taken fire, it would have
reached them, and the brandy-cask also, in which case the hut would probably
have been blown up; as it was, all might be recovered, by contrivance and
industry.
The first thing to be done, was drying the blanket; and as the sun was
now up, and it was very hot on the sands, he immediately carried it thither,
wringing the water out as well as he could. On returning, the first things
he saw were his lamp and oil, which were so placed as to awaken new cause
for gratitude, as they were within a few inches of that piece of the wreck
which he had used for a door. He then looked up the remains of his clothing,
and found them still damp; therefore they too were placed in the sun, for
he determined never again to make a fire near the hut, considering that
he had already run a great many risks, in having had a fire so near to
the trees.
"But," said he, with a sigh, "I need not think about fires, for all
my famous stock of firewood is gone; and at the same time the shelter it
gave my hut is gone also, and there has been rain for two nights, so that
I can hardly get a bit of dry stick to roast a fish with: However, it will
grow warmer every day, and perhaps I can make a curtain of the shawls and
the jacket, that will keep out a little of the night air."
Charles had always been a boy of neat habits, and it had (happily for
him) been a leading point with his father, to render him willing to help
himself; so that even in the East Indies, where persons keep so many servants,
and do so little for themselves, he had been, in a great degree, an active,
independent little fellow, capable of waiting on himself. This disposition
had increased when he read Robinson Crusoe; for he conceived it a proof
of a manly disposition, (and so it certainly is,) for a person to be thus
independent. To this disposition he had, in the last two years, added good
principles and great qualities, under the tuition of a wise tutor, and
a truly virtuous and religious father; so that he had now a considerable
portion of courage, much steady resolution and fortitude, and, as we have
all along seen, a deep sense of religion. Owing to this improvement in
his mind, he determined to improve his hut as much as he could, and not
sit down in idleness, because the time had come when he hoped to leave
it, as many boys of his age would have done. -- "No," said he; "though
I may be gone before another day is past, yet I may also have to stay as
long again; so if I can do nothing else, I will clear away all the ashes
and rubbish: though I live in a hut, I will not live in the dirt like a
hog."
Charles therefore proceeded to gather a large bunch of light twigs,
which he tied firmly on a good bamboo stick, and made an excellent broom,
with which he proceeded to brush away the embers and remains of the sticks,
taking them by the action as far as possible from the hut. In doing this,
he saw, as he thought, something move two or three times, which startled
him; so he threw a basin of water to clear away the ashes, that he might
see what it was. To his astonishment, he perceived parts of several small
green serpents: and he had no doubt but the violent noise and hissing he
had heard on awaking, had proceeded from these creatures, which were providentially
destroyed by the fire which had threatened his life so nearly. He knew
not how long they might have been under the stack of wood, which was a
very likely shelter for such creatures, or whether the extraordinary fire
he had made, the night before, had been their attraction; but it was evident
that he had had a remarkable escape; for even allowing that they had not
entered his hut, which was perfectly open to them, yet he would inevitably
soon have disturbed them, by putting his hand, as usual, upon the stack,
which was now getting very low; in which case, he would have received a
death more slow and agonizing than that which had so lately threatened
him from the fire.
He remembered that in India, country houses were considered defended
from snakes, by being surrounded with gravel, as these creatures do not
like to injure their skins by coming upon this rough substance; and he
therefore concluded, it would he advisable for him to cover the ground
for a considerable distance with sand and pebbles. Unfortunately, there
were no stones on the island, with which he could form a wall; but for
this mode of defence he was well provided, as a bed of sand lay behind
the hut, which was itself much of the same substance; so that it was very
possible to cover it, as well as surround it by the sand. Charles lost
no time, therefore, in adopting the only method that promised security;
and as he could not (with all the pains he took,) perceive one living snake
amongst the grass or trees, he hoped that it might answer, especially,
as by making the fire always at a considerable distance, and only on the
sand, they would not be drawn thither by warmth. It was a great labour
for the poor boy, to carry load after load, in his tin case (for he had
no other method,) of pebbles, to cast about the place; and he worked so
hard to accomplish it, that at night he slept very soundly, forgetting
his fears in his fatigue. At the end of three days, he had not only effected
his intention, but greatly improved the appearance of his hut, which he
also in some measure enclosed, by placing before it a hedge of prickly
furze, which stuck so close together, that he could easily push it away
when he wanted light, or draw it near to exclude the air; and over it he
threw the silk shawl, which he had previously designated his veil.
It may be readily supposed, that, notwithstanding his great accumulation
of business lately, there were two things which our young exile never forgot,
viz. -- that of marking every returning morning in the almanack, near his
hut, and climbing into the higher trees to make observations. When he had
finished that task, without which, he durst not lie down in the hut, he
gave more time to watching; and as he could almost be certain of gaining
fish for a dinner at this season, he nearly divided his time between looking
out from the promontory, (which perhaps he ought rather to have called
a peninsula, seeing there was no high land,) and from the tree he named
his observatory. Day after day, however, passed on, without varying the
scene; for the ocean continued bright and smooth for nearly a fortnight
after he had ventured upon it (with so little encouragement for a second
trial), and yet he perceived nothing to vary its wide expanse. At length
(as he was about to descend, and was taking one more farewell look through
his glass), he thought he perceived something like a sail in the extreme
distance, towards the west, with an emotion that rendered him almost incapable
of seeing at all; he yet determined not to lose sight of his object, and
in a short time became sensible that he had not deceived himself. A noble
ship was pursuing her way with steady magnificence, neither accelerated
by rapid breezes, nor distressed by the failure of customary wind. Might
they not, in this state, be most likely to look round on the islands, and
discern the flag from this desert spot? would they not know it to be the
signal of distress? the cry of the shipwrecked mariner for assistance to
his fellow-creatures? they could not -- surely they could not, like
the cold-hearted Levite in the gospel, pass by on the other side! From
whatever European country they might come, still they professed the same
faith, they were bound by the same general laws of humanity, and they would
surely seek and rescue those that were lost.
Charles remembered that his father, when giving him an account of the
loss of the Grosvenor East Indiaman, which was shipwrecked on the southern
coast of Africa, had said -- "And to the honour of the Dutch governor,
then resident at the Cape of Good Hope, be it remembered, that although
his country, and therefore himself, was at war with us, he lost not a day
in sending a body of soldiers and servants, to seek and succour the wretched
persons cast on this inhospitable coast; for which purpose, they travelled
more than four hundred miles, and succeeded in saving the lives of the
few which survived the hardships and famine they had encountered."
With these thoughts passing his mind, no wonder Charles hoped every
moment to see the vessel approach somewhat nearer, or give signal: -- but
alas! she passed, and gave no sign; for hours she was in sight, but never
near enough to hear his gun, or perhaps to see his flag; he descended with
the shades of evening, worn out with hunger and sorrow, and slowly retraced
his steps to that home, which now seemed more melancholy than ever. Such
was the sinking of his heart on this memorable evening, that, weak as he
was, with extreme anxiety and long fasting, he would not have roused himself,
even to get the food he so much needed, if Poll had not been clamorous
for his own share, and said, over and over, "Don't despair, my dear boy,"
and every other word to which he could apply his tongue. He felt as if
he had lost a certain good hold in possession; and as he ground the few
grains of coffee which he allowed himself, he looked at the remains of
his canister, and observed, "that it was so nearly finished, he had nothing
but famine to expect." All the evils of his situation at once rushed to
his mind; his stores were exhausted, or nearly so; the season for fruits
was not arrived; the green carpet of the island yielded no roots, that
he knew to be fit for food, and the birds did not now frequent the island,
being employed in patching their young at Amsterdam; and what was worse,
far worse than all the rest, his dear papa must have died, or by this time
he would have found some means of rescuing him. Bitter tears rolled down
poor Charles's cheeks, as these sad thoughts came over him; and the only
prayer he could offer under this depression of his heart, was a few words
from that book which was always on his mind, "save, Lord, or I perish."
When Charles arose in the morning, he found there had been a pleasant spring
shower, which had beautified every thing on the island. There was a sweet
smell from the herbage, a refreshing air fanned the budding trees, and
the little birds were twittering on every bough. Charles felt the sweet
influence of the season, and his heart ascended in praise to the bountiful
Giver of all good: he then went to the stream, and finding some fish in
his net, he proceeded to make a fire, and procure the meal he so much required.
Whilst it was roasting, he opened the Bible, and began to read the Proverbs
of Solomon, which he did not recollect reading before, as the historical
parts of the Old Testament had naturally engaged his attention the most.
He had not read far, when he found the words, "Hope deferred, maketh the
heart sick; but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life."
"Ah!" cried Charles, "I had a sad fit of that very sickness last night,
and the effects are not gone off yet. It was not only very foolish in me
to give way to my sense of sorrow so much, but very ungrateful also, for
within a very short time I have been so mercifully delivered from many
dangers, that I am sure I might sing that hymn which, says --
I'll praise thee, I'll praise thee, for all that is past,
And trust thee for all that's to come."
instead of which, the very, first disappointment I had, completely unmanned
me. I find I am only a child yet, though I am almost fourteen years old;
and have had experience enough in the last six months, to give me a push
in life."
In consequence of these reflections, Charles came to a resolution, which
it was very difficult to keep; he determined to carry a design of preparing
for his return into execution, and at the same time, allowing himself only
to watch three hours a-day; and at other times to keep himself as busy
as if he were going to live on the island all his life. He thought that
by watching at three different periods of the day, he should ensure every
advantage likely to occur, since, in so wide an horizon, the progress of
any vessel might be traced many hours; and he was aware, from past experience,
that the agitation he experienced when a ship was actually within sight,
was such, that it took away the very strength which he would so greatly
need, if any actual chance for escape presented itself.
The preparations for departure (on which he had set his heart) consisted
of making a considerable selection of those beautiful sea-shells on the
other side bf the island, which we formerly mentioned, as a present for
his sister Emily, and of keeping his boat clean, and in order for going
out in a moment's warning, with a little stock of provisions. For this
purpose, every morning at rising, he sought the shells, which in the evening
he arranged; and to these he added a considerable stock of beautiful feathers,
which he had gathered, and put into a corner of the hut; the shells he
laid carefully in layers, at the bottom of the box, between the folds of
the muslin; the feathers he stuck in lines upon his writing-paper, disposing
them in different shades and forms, so as to make very pretty pictures;
and in several he made the letter E. in green and scarlet feathers, upon
a ground of dark brown, or brilliant white. This employment was so pleasant
to him, that he regretted much, that he had not begun it sooner, for many
a lonely hour was beguiled by an amusement which exercised his taste, as
well as his affections; and often would he look at the last piece he had
finished, and think of the pleasure it would give his sister, without that
too natural conclusion, that her eyes, in all probability, would never
behold it.
Whenever Charles went to the shore, he took his gun with him, and now
frequently, either with that or his bow and arrow, shoot a rabbit, as the
weather was become warm, and the creatures were again seen frisking in
his path. He noticed in his walks also, abundance of a plant, which, on
plucking up, had a root resembling a small carrot, and undoubtedly was
a wild species, which eat very well, and he soon found to be very nutritious.
He took it very sparingly at first, but on finding no bad effects from
eating it, got it freely; and having "boiled it in his tea-kettle, found
it an excellent substitute for bread; and he even contrived, by crushing
it into cakes, and drying it in the sun, to make it a substitute for the
biscuits which he had finished. As soon as he had contrived to dry a few
of these cakes very thoroughly, he put them by as a store into his boat,
for which also he provided some slips of dried flesh. Often did he wish
for salt, thinking, that if he had possessed the power of curing some fish,
he might have ventured on a long voyage, for the sea was now so calm, and
the weather so settled, that he again earnestly desired to set out; but
he no longer wished to visit the neighbouring island, which, he was persuaded,
was a much worse place than his present abode, and equally uninhabited.
At length, one morning, with feelings of unspeakable delight, Charles
again distinctly perceived a ship, tracing her progress over the liquid
plain, In a much nearer direction than the last had done, as for some time
he thought her bearing for Amsterdam. As he carried one of the shawls about
his person, he lost not a moment in taking it, and streaming it out on
the wind, by tying it to the highest part of the tree. He then descended,
flew to the hut, took out all that he could carry, regretting exceedingly,
that after all his pains, the box with the sea-shells must be left behind,
and hastened down to his boat. It required great exertion at this moment
to get it out to sea, but the energies awakened by his present excitement
conquered every obstacle; in a few minutes he had pushed Into the sea,
spread his sail, rejoiced in a rising breeze, and felt convinced that he
should shortly attract the attention of some person on the deck of the
ship, which was seldom a single moment out of his sight; for such was his
dread of losing this precious object, that he had scarcely the power of
attending to his own vessel.
In about half-an-hour, he had the additional satisfaction of perceiving
that one of her boats was out fishing, and therefore he had the greater
reason to hope that he should be seen: in a little time he fired, and continued
to do so at intervals, for more than an hour; but as no notice whatever
was taken, he concluded either that he remained unheard and unseen, or
else that the crew were persons of great inhumanity. When this idea struck
him, he became extremely anxious on the subject of Captain Gordon's property,
thinking that if he fell into bad hands, it was but too probable that he
should be stripped and murdered, for the sake of securing it to the plunderers;
and for a moment he conceived that the best thing he could do, would be
to throw it into the sea. This however he would not do, till there appeared
a positive necessity for it, as it was (next to seeing his parents again)
the first wish of his heart to restore this fortune to the innocent orphans,
who, perhaps, at this very moment were in want of it; and he even hoped,
that in case he should be taken as a prisoner, rather than a friend, he
might find the means of secreting it, since he wore it nearest his body,
well secured by the best bandages it had been in his power to make.
Just as Charles had made this conclusion, he perceived the boat quit
its late position, and he again fired. Alas! its motion was towards the
ship; what would he not have given for more sails -- for the power of making
a louder report -- for any means whereby to reach the senses, and touch
the hearts of his fellow-creatures! "Ah! that I had wings like a dove,"
was on his lips, as, with outstretched hands and streaming eyes, he gazed
towards the ship, which every moment receded more swiftly from his sight,
and in another hour, left him alone in the wide ocean, out of the sight
of every human eye, and far from all human help, every moment leaving still
farther the desolate island, which he yet held to be his home.
"What, a foolish boy I am to cry again!" ejaculated Charles, at length;
"I may have a dozen failures, and yet be taken up at last; besides, that
very ship may be going to China, for any thing I know; and in that case,
I should be taken much farther from my native land than I am here; and
if my poor father should come to seek me, I should be completely lost."
At the name of his father, his heart sunk; it was now nineteen weeks
complete since he had so mysteriously disappeared from the island; and
it seemed hardly likely, that in that time no means should have arisen
for conveying intelligence. On the other hand, unless his father had the
positive command of a vessel, how could he come or send for him, since
it was too plain that no vessels were in the habit of touching either here
or at Amsterdam? There had been no severe weather, likely to have proved
an hindrance, for the last three months; but this might make no difference
to Mr. Crusoe, for as he had gone from hence poor and shipwrecked, he,
who once could command so much, might now be able to procure not even a
paltry sloop, with which to rescue his only son.
Poor Charles was compelled to abandon this course of distressing reflections,
to think of his own safety, and change the direction of his little vessel.
For many hours he was obliged to tack, with little success; and although
he was not exposed to severe weather as before, he was out a second night,
finding it even more difficult than then to effect a landing. When he at
length moored his boat, it was in a little bay, which was much more convenient
than he had yet found, and also nearer to the hut; therefore for the present
he resolved that it should remain there; and after covering it with branches,
he returned, thoughtful, but not dejected, to his hut once more.
The first thing Charles saw, or indeed heard, was poor Poll. The bird
had been asleep at the time when he set out, and in his hurry, for the
first time, he had actually forgotten him; and such was the agitation of
his spirits for the first hour or two, that even this, his dear and only
companion, failed to be remembered. When, however, he did think
of Poll, the recollection of having left him behind, grieved him so much,
that it rendered his disappointment less afflictive to him, when he lost
sight of the ships; and he determined, that for the future, he would take
him on his shoulder wherever he went. He also emptied his box, to enable
him to carry it down to the boat, and then carefully, and with much labour,
replaced the contents, thus rendering himself ready to go at any moment;
but being also aware, that he might yet be compelled to remain an indefinite
time, he made himself a seat in the hut, by heaping up sand, and covering
it with the skins of the animals he had killed, after sewing them together
with the fibres of leaves.
There were times when he wished much to lay out a little garden, as
he had now discovered several other vegetables, besides the carrots, which
he thought would answer for food; but his want of a spade forbade his progress
in preparing the ground; for although the shovel, which was his only instrument,
managed to remove sand, it was quite inadequate to digging the earth. It
was a great pleasure to see all the fruits promised to be abundant and
to remember that the season for finding dates, in particular, was coming
on; for such was his dislike to killing any living thing, that nothing
but positive necessity could induce him to shed blood; and he thought,
that if he were compelled to remain another year, he would manage to do
without any animal food, except turtle, which he flattered himself he could
kill easily, and which he had found to be particularly nutritive food.
Again and again, he went to his usual points; but though he sometimes
fancied he saw vessels in the extreme distance, yet day after day passed,
and no more vessels came, as before, within his actual observation; and
he almost repented, that when he was so far out, he had returned to the
island; and as to his hopes of his father's arrival, they became every
day more faint; so that he ceased to count the days upon his almanack,
because they diminished hopes, which, from the first, had rather sprung
from his affections than his reason.
At this time, he planted many little shrubs around the grave of Captain
Gordon, and inscribed his name in the bark of the trees near it, not unfrequently
cutting his own likewise. His mind was in such a state of inquietude, that
he could not read at all; but every active pursuit was of benefit to him;
and often, while he wept his father's loss, would he recall his words,
and with true wisdom and warm affection, resolved, as far as he could,
to follow his advice in all things. Then would he rouse himself to action,
by running to look at his boat, gathering sticks for his fire, or adding
to his stock of shells; by which means he would attain sufficient composure
to read, and think on the subject before him, and finally, to pray devoutly,
and sleep comfortably.
It had frequently been a source of regret to Charles, especially during
that time when his mind was better able to pursue his studies, that he
had not been provided with a few pencils, and a little paper, that he might
occupy his lonely hours with drawing; or that he had not a slate and an
account-book; and now, though it is probable that he would have used them
much less, he wished for them still more, because he found that the perpetual
solicitude of his mind required diverting. For this purpose he frequently
got a long stick, and wrote, or made figures, on the smooth sands near
the shore; and as his thoughts were always wandering after his father,
his writing generally consisted of letters addressed to him; and many an
epistle, full of tenderness and good feeling, was, day after day, washed
away by the returning waves which passed over it.
One morning, as he was going to take his station in the tree, he remarked
that every word was obliterated, except "Dear papa." -- "Ah!" said he,
"those those two words remain yet; they are the last words on the sands,
and I dare say they will be the last words I shall ever utter. I remember
reading in history, that Queen Mary said, 'Calais would be found
written on her heart;' and if the thing were possible, 'dear papa' would
be now written on mine."
As Poll always considered his master's words addressed to him, he answered
with, "Don't despair;" but it was in a very sleepy tone, for his master
had this morning roused him before his time. With his usual consideration,
Charles placed the poor bird on the first comfortable bough he found, but
not until he had carefully recognised the ground below, with his usual
fear of serpents, so that he might be sure that Poll was safe; and then
proceeded to take his regular stand on the topmost branches, from whence
his shawl continued to wave.
In the course of a quarter of an hour, he saw, in the distant horizon,
a dark speck, which soon increased in dimensions. Again his heart began
to throb violently, for it was indeed a ship bearing to the east, and every
moment shewing itself more plainly as a large complete vessel, fanned,
by a breeze that gently filled its sails, more and more towards the islands,
yet without evincing any intention to touch at them. It was in truth far
distant still; and there was no probability that if he took to his boat,
this very moment that he should be discerned, unless it steered much nearer
the island; and if it did so, and should discern the, flags, now visible
from three points, would it not be better that he should wait where he
was, and receive the strangers, who were on their way from the Cape to
India, and had probably heard of the shipwreck of the Alexander, and might
be on the look-out for some remnant of the crew? -- " I shall be kindly
received in India" said Charles, "for people cannot have forgotten my dear
father; and for his sake they will send me to my mother some time; and
---- " at this moment, something like the sound of a piece when it flashes
in the pan, struck his, ear, and the words, "Misser Sharly, Misser Snarly,"
uttered in great trepidation, were spoken very near him. It was evident
that the parrot had heard the sound, and was alarmed by it; so Charles's
first care was to descend to his relief, though sorry to lose sight of
the ship for a moment, since however far removed, it was the link that
tied him to his fellow-creatures. When he had descended to the lower boughs,
he found Poll, to his astonishment, fast asleep where he had left him,
without a single feather ruffled, or the least indication of that recent
flutter which had induced him to cry out.
Why surely, Poll, you were talking in your sleep; what could disturb
you so much, my fine fellow?" said his kind master, putting out his hand
to draw him into his arms.
"Misser Sharly! Misser Sharly!" screamed a voice within a little distance,
and at the same moment a gun was distinctly heard.
"Am I awake, or is it all a dream?" cried the astonished, bewildered,
transported boy, as, in trembling expectation, he fell, rather than descended,
from the tree, when, lo! within fifty yards, stood a living human being!
-- another look convinced him it was Sambo -- dear, faithful Sambo. Forgetting
the snakes, and every thing else, but thankfulness to God, Charles dropped
instantly on his knees; but in another moment he felt himself hugged, fondly
hugged, to the beating breast of his faithful servant, who, between tears
and laughter, half shouting and half sobbing, cried out -- "Him quite alibe!
him brown as Sambo self! him lovee him Sambo same as before! Oh! happy!
happy! him quite alibe -- him poor fader look for him bones -- no bones
here."
My father, my father!" cried Charles; but he could not utter another
word; his tongue clove to his mouth, his eyes seemed starting out of his
head, and he looked so wild and pallid, that the joy of the poor Hindoo
was suddenly turned into terror; and earnestly shaking Charles, he cried
out, in a voice of distress, alternately to the long-lost object of his
care, and the party who were seeking him -- "Misser Sharly -- Misser Sharly!
Nibber go for lose him senses now, when joy come home to him heart! Here
you sailor Tom, and Ned, what for you not come carry Misser Crusoe own
son in palanquin -- you great rascal idles? Ha! Misser Sharly, nibber you
know what we hab suffer about you. Sambo cry him eyes out -- Sambo lie
down to death for you!"
"But where -- where is my father?"
Him here -- him dere -- him run in ibbery place; I know well best place.
Come, come -- halloo, halloo! I find! I find! Sambo find!"
Ahoy! Captain Gordon ahoy!" bawled the parrot, flapping his wings with
delight, and evidently recognising his old friend Sambo, by jumping on
his shoulders, even from the arms of his master, who, shaking in every
limb, was rather dragged than led by Sambo towards the beach, where he
first began to believe that the whole scene was not an illusion of the
senses, by perceiving two sailors, and an officer, standing near Captain
Gordon's grave, apparently listening to the halloos of Sambo, and the screams
of the parrot.
The moment they beheld Sambo, drawing forward a boy about his own size,
whose appearance bespoke all the peculiarities of his situation, and who,
at this moment, looked more dead than alive, and conveyed the idea of his
being snatched from present destruction, they set up a shout of joy, that
seemed to rend the heavens, and two of them fired at the same moment. Just
then Charles heard a voice cry, "Where, where is he?" That voice was surely
his father's, and he thought that his figure was emerging from the trees;
but he could see no more: -- his head swam -- his, eyes failed -- he fell
fainting on the ground, believing that he was expiring.
By degrees life revisited the pale cheek of poor Charles; and as his
senses returned, he began to think that he had been afflicted with the
fever, in which, he had suffered from the delusions of delirious fancies.
He found that he was sitting on the sands, the trees he had planted round
the captain's grave were before him, and the voice of poor Poll was still
ringing in his ears; but he also found that he was supported by some person's
arms, and that his head was pillowed on a kind shoulder; nay more, Sambo
was kneeling before him, and offering him something in a teacup.
"You drinkee him, Misser Sharly; him do you great goodee."
"That is very true, Master Crusoe," said a voice close to him. "Let
Sambo hold the cup to your lips, and try to swallow the contents."
At this moment a pang shot through Charles's heart -- "Had he then been
deceived? Was his father not here?" He took the cup, as the medium of gaining
strength for farther inquiry; and the moment he had swallowed the liquid
it contained, inquired -- "Pray, sir, is my father living? I thought --
I hoped ----"
"You are right in those hopes, my dear boy; your father is near you;
he lives and is well; he even sees you at this very moment; but you have
been so overcome by hearing his voice, that by my advice, as the surgeon
of the ship that brought him, he now stands at a distance, and forbears
to speak to you. You too must obey me, my dear boy; you must not suffer
even your joy (natural as it is) to overcome you?"
"I will obey you, sir; I will try to get well, that he may be
happy: but, sir, please to put me on my knees: support my hands, as the
hands of Moses were supported, for if I do not thank God, I shall die again
-- I feel I shall."
The benevolent friend instantly complied with his request, by placing
him on his knees, and supporting him, as he exclaimed -- "I thank thee,
oh God! I thank thee that I have lived to this hour; and that my dear papa,
is still ----"
At these words he burst into a flood of tears, which relieved his loaded
heart; and the surgeon then beckoned to Mr. Crusoe, who, pale and trembling,
scarcely able to endure the joy and the fear of this awful scene, now took
him in his arms, and holding him to his heart, thanked God for the possession
of a gift so much beyond his hopes, that but a single hour before, he had
(as Sambo truly said) searched the island, to find the precious remains
of a child, lost to him under the most afflictive circumstances that he
thought possible for a father to endure. The honest tars, though they had
weathered many a rough gale without shrinking, found the scene before them
affecting to the highest degree; and large tears rolled down their rough
faces, as they too devoutly lifted up their hearts in thankfulness to Heaven.
The surgeon alone, though a man whose feelings were as acute as his heart
was kind, preserved the power to control the sensibility of those around
him, as well as his own; and seeing that Sambo by turns laughed and cried,
as if he were going into hysterics, he ordered him instantly to the boat,
to fetch some provisions, as he thought dinner would be good for all the
party; and slapping Charles on the shoulder, he exclaimed -- "Come, my
young friend, look up, and tell us where your stores lie; we have all come
a long way to visit you, and expect that you will entertain us very handsomely."
Charles felt feeble and exhausted, in consequence of the agitation he
had undergone; and he was so entirely content, so perfectly happy, as he
laid in the arms of his father, he thought it was almost a cruelty in Mr.
Parker to compel him to speak; but when he looked in his good-humoured
countenance, he saw his motive for commanding attention from all parties,
and immediately answered, in as gay a tone as his spirits could muster
-- "I have got some sea-stores on board my vessel, the Calypso, Sir, which
lies a short way to the leeward, and they are at your service; your men
will find them in a tin case. There is island bread also, in my hut, and
choice fish ready for the fire."
"Very good; and a spring of pure water too, I perceive."
"To which you may add a little brandy, from my ship's store; and it
will be easy for you to procure a barrel of wine, for there is such a thing,
fairly wedged into the sand, where it has lain, ever since the time of
the wreck."
"And have you, my dear Charles, never been able to get to it? What a
sad loss you have had!"
" I think, papa, I could have got the wine out of it, though I had not
strength to move the barrel; but I thought it better not to try, unless
I had another fever, or something of that kind. I remembered, that I was
always very fond of a glass of Madeira, and I was afraid that I might be
tempted to drink too much, especially when I was unhappy, and when I was
hungry, in which case it would have made me tipsy, you know."
"And have you never taken any of the brandy then, my dear?"
"Oh yes! I have taken a small quantity very often, when I was wet through
with the rain, or had been working above my strength. I took it as I did
physic, to do me good; and as I dislike it very much, I had no fear of
being tempted with it, as I should have been with wine."
"Well done, my young philosopher!" cried Mr. Parker. "Your school has
been a strange one, but it has nevertheless taught you most invaluable
lessons."
"So it ought, Sir; for I had, in my distress, the best of books, and
surely, I may add, the first of all Masters."
At this moment the sailors returned, bringing with them all they had
found of the highly-priced property of Charles. At this moment his father
whispered -- "My dear child, have you ever touched certain things which
I wrapped in a handkerchief?"
"Those things are all safely stowed on my person, dear father; so you
will neither have the trouble to seek for them, nor the necessity of exciting
attention on a subject which might be dangerous. See, papa, what curious
bread I have made out of roots: I call them Crusoe carrot-cakes."
Mr. Crusoe took the bread in his hand, willing to please his son, by
admiring it; but when he put it to his lips, it was moistened by his tears.
The remembrance of those tender and unceasing cares which a fond mother
had lavished on her only son, from his birth, rushed to his mind, contrasting
with the many privations that dear son must have suffered; and whilst he
sincerely thanked God that his beloved child had possessed strength of
mind and constitution to overcome them, yet his feelings as a parent were
deeply moved. Again he clasped his boy to his bosom, and asked his heart,
if it durst confide in its own happiness? -- if his long-suffering, deserted
son still lived, in possession of health and understanding, with affections
quickened, not impaired, by absence?
On examining him, he perceived, that although very thin, he yet was
considerably grown; and had proportionably increased in muscular strength.
His complexion seemed embrowned to a perfect bronze on his face; but this
was evidently the partial effect of continual exposure, for on taking off
his jacket, his arms and neck, though without the advantage of being covered
by a shirt, retained their usual colour: his hands gave decisive proof
that his labour had been various. On seeing his father so much affected
by surveying his person, Charles began strenuously to maintain, that although
there was a time when he had been a sad figure, yet he might now be considered
altogether a very respectable beau; for notwithstanding his dark curly
hair was as bushy as a counsellor's wig, he knew that he had cut a great
deal from it; and he conceived that his cap was really a most-meritorious
covering, for which he claimed great praise.
When they sat down to dinner, on the sand, where there was scarcely
any shade from the trees, every one allowed that his projecting head-dress
was indeed an admirable contrivance: in fact, they admired and extolled
every thing about him, gazing at him as if he were a living miracle; but
the mind of Charles was too much occupied with joy and gratitude, to admit
of any other emotion; and he was therefore happily prevented from imbibing
those ideas which might have injured him, by feeding pride, and stimulating
vanity.
After they had dined, the good surgeon hastened their departure, (but
not till he had secured what he called the drowned Madeira, which indeed
proved a quarter-cask of that wine, which had been sent out to India, to
be improved by the voyage); and Charles took care to gather all his goods
together, not forgetting the parrot's cage, and the beautiful shawl, which
was still waving on the top of his church tree: for this Sambo was despatched,
as he knew the place exactly; and whilst he was gone, Charles examined
his almanack trees, and counted as many notches as made seven months and
eleven days, commencing with the first that he could remember.
Just as he had finished counting them, and Mr. Parker was drawing near,
to announce that all things were ready for their departure, Sambo came
running towards them, with looks of great dismay, declaring "he had seen
three serpents, from one of which he had escaped with difficulty; and having
no stick in his hand, or means of defence, he had heen terribly frightened."
"Then you did not come back the way you went surely, Sambo, or we should
have seen them this morning, when you were under the tree. I told you to
go and come the same way."
Yes, Misser Sharly, but him think him make one short cut. As for morning,
if fifty serpents was there, Sambo see only you -- you see only Sambo."
"And was this danger added to the rest?" cried Mr. Crusoe, with new
emotion.
"Yes, papa; it has been the worst evil I have had to contend with, at
least to my own apprehension, for of all others, I feared it the most.
But let us go: when we are safe on board, I will tell you, as Othello says
-- 'All my travels' history."
"I will only ask you one word now, Charles -- Did you think I had purposely
forsaken you?"
"No, no! the thought once rushed through my mind, but I banished it
directly. I knew you would rather die with me than leave me; and that although
it was your duty, perhaps, to prefer my mama and my sister, if you were
obliged to give up either them or me, yet I felt that you could
not forsake me. No, papa! I have cried for you, as dead, or in slavery,
many a time, very bitterly; but I have also cheered my heart with the hopes
of seeing you again, every hour of my life, or else I could not have sustained
my existence. It is true, after three months were over, I then began to
expect, if you had the power of returning, you would be coming; and you
will be aware, from my storing my boat, that I intended to keep a sharp
look-out. It was observation of a distant ship that made me lose sight
of your boat. Your vessel, I conclude, is hidden by the wood. Since I saw
you, as Sambo says, I have desired to see nothing else; and never once
looked for that which is so precious in my eyes -- a ship bound for my
own country."
"My dear boy, since we parted, I have been to the Cape of Good Hope,
from thence to Ceylon, and we are now bound direct to England."
Oh, joy! joy! this was more than I dared to hope for! I have got so
many things for mama, you can't think -- at least for Emily."
"And I have got one for them, better than all the rest -- one I never
hoped to take them: but we must go: you will not fret after your desolate
island, my young Crusoe?"
"I shall not regret its snakes nor its. sorrows, father; but yet I feel
someway a kind of trouble in quitting it; for I have known two very miserable
nights, for want of its accommodations; and I have learnt in it more of
God's word, and more of his providential goodness too, than I should have
gained in any other place. So fare thee well, Island of St. Paul! thou
hast got a good name, and I will not give thee a bad one."
They now entered the boat, which was only a small one, the vessel to
which it belonged being far inferior to that noble ship which had been
stranded at the spot, from which, with some difficulty, they now took their
departure, Charles wished much that they could have taken his boat; but
this was found impracticable; and therefore he gave up all thoughts of
it, but earnestly desired the best accommodation for his parrot, which
disliking the confinement of his cage, screamed incessantly -- "Never despair,
my dear boy!" to the great delight of the seamen.
When the boat reached the vessel, every person within the latter crowded
to the deck, the moment that the figure of Charles was descried; and the
most extraordinary natural curiosity ever caught, or exhibited, would have
failed to awaken wonder, or excite interest, so much as he did. Every person
on board knew that Mr. Crusoe had engaged the captain, by the payment of
a considerable sum, to visit this island, for the purpose of seeing if
his son survived; but as every day lessened the probability of such an
event, and they had been detained much beyond their expectation, not one
person expected that his examination of St. Paul's could produce any thing
beyond the realization of his fears. As the settled melancholy of his countenance,
the gentleness of his manners, and the character he bore in Bombay, made
him generally beloved, every person of an amiable disposition felt for
a father so situated; and from motives of delicacy and sympathy, intended
to hold themselves secluded on his return, till he should have reached
his own cabin, for which kind purpose, the captain promised to give them
notice when the boat should be seen to leave the shore; Mr. Parker, the
surgeon, determining to accompany him, for the purpose of performs ing
the funeral ceremony over the body of poor Charles, and afterwards withdrawing
the father as soon as possible from the scene. When the boat left the island,
from its being deeply loaded, it came slowly, which seemed to the few who
saw it, a movement in unison with the affliction of the father. On taking
up his glass Captain Linton perceived that there was another passenger,
dressed in a singular helmet, gazing wistfully at the ship, as an intelligent
savage might be supposed to do, whose, admiration and delight were vividly
expressed by his gestures; but when he saw the supposed wild youth sink
down at the feet of Mr, Crusoe, lay his head in his lap, and draw the shawl,
in which he was arrayed, over his face, to hide the transports, or the
tears drawn from him by the novelty of his situation, he was convinced
that the lost sheep was found; and the news ran through the vessel like
electricity. Every heart beat with joy, every eyelid was moistened with
pity; and when the young stranger stepped on board, a shout of welcome
and exultation rang through the ship, and seemed to swell the very sails
with triumph. Hands were held out on all sides -- voices in all tones uttered
congratulations; and as there were several ladies among the passengers,
Charles almost believed that his mother was addressing him, and in the
confusion of pleasure, felt bewildered and overpowered.
By the advice of Mr. Parker, both father and son, for this evening,
retired to the cabin of the former, into which suitable accommodation for
the stranger was speedily handed, together with Poll, who, like his master,
had not all at once the power of meeting his new acquaintance with composure.
Charles intended to remain perfectly quiet for some time, but he could
not forbear to go on deck, and gaze upon the island so long as it remained
in view, wondering at his own strange sensations, in which something like
sorrow, that he should never see it more, mingled with pleasure for his
escape from it, as a prison condemning him to solitary confinement, to
fear, and to want.
When the fond son returned to the cabin, much as he desired to know
every thing that related to his father, and to Sambo also, (who never lost
sight of his recovered young master five minutes at a time), he yet complied
willingly with the advice he had received from Mr. Parker, to ask no questions,
or relate any adventures for that night, being well aware that he was now
much in the same state of exhaustion from his surprise and happiness, that
he had repeatedly been from his misery and disappointment. But there was
one thing he could not deny himself, which was that of closely nestling
to his father, and either holding him by the hand or the clothes, as if
he feared to lose him for, a moment. When thus seated, with his faithful
Sambo before, his eyes, and poor Poll, now well fed, and sleeping by his
side, and the remembrance that he was sailing towards dear England, which
contained another parent and sister, full on his mind, he wanted nothing
more to render him the happiest boy on the face of the wide earth. The
following day he became acquainted with the reason of his father's mysterious
disappearance; but as Mr. Crusoe's narrative was frequently interrupted
by the inquiries of his anxious son, we will comprise the circumstances
in the following chapter.
Our readers will not be surprised to learn, that at the time when Mr. Crusoe
parted from Charles, he was suffering from the beginning of a bad fever,
which they had both caught from poor Captain Gordon, who had died of it.
Sambo escaped, partly because the inhabitants of India are not equally
subject to suffering this complaint with strangers, and partly because
he had never been employed about the person of the deceased as they had,
nor had he used his clothes, nor slept in his bed as they did.
Mr. Crusoe had no idea that his poor friend had an infectious fever,
though he knew he was ill; and he thought that fatigue and anxiety had
quite as great a share in his death as any actual complaint; and under
the same, persuasion, when his own head ached, and his limbs felt unable
to perform their office, he concluded that, sorrow and toil had been too
much for him, and became more than ever anxious to escape from a place,
where he could neither obtain comfort nor help, and where his poor wife
coultt never hear from him, and of course must suffer all the agonies of
grief and solicitude, under which he now languished himself.
Mr. Crusoe was not aware that his son was unwell at all, since he forbore
all complaint, lest he should add to his father's troubles, and showed
so much true heroism in making the best of their misfortunes, that Mr.
Crusoe did not doubt but he would diligently watch at one end of the island,
whilst he was at the other; and as he had much reliance on Sambo's accuracy
of sight, he hoped that one or the other would see and hail the vessel,
which his servant maintained he had seen. The day was exceedingly sultry;
the terrible storm which was coming on, rendered the air heavy and unwholesome,
and every step which the invalid took, rendered him less equal to his task;
so that when he arrived at the little promontory, it was with the utmost
difficulty that he could suspend the sheet he had carried with him to the
tree; after which, he sunk down exhausted. It had been his full intention
to swim out, and endeavour to secure the boat; but this he soon found to
be utterly impossible, as his disorder being greatly accelerated by the
state of the atmosphere, he became rapidly so ill, as to be absolutely
helpless. By degrees his senses forsook him; but he had a vague notion
that some help was at hand, If he could but attain it; and with this idea
floating in his mind, by a violent effort he made shift to fire his piece
as a signal of distress; after which, he threw himself on the ground, as
if in despair, to wait for relief by death, or assistance from his fellow-creatures.
In the mean time, the vessel which Sambo had seen, really approached the
island, and having perceived the flag, they did not hesitate in sending
a boat to recognise; but knowing the island had no good landing-place,
it was some time before the seamen reached the spot where the flag was
streaming. Here they found a single individual laying on the sands, in
a state of complete exhaustion, who seemed, from the oppression on his
breast, to be dying, and who uttered no other words than, "My son, my son,"
which the sailors did not understand, being part of the crew of a Dutch
vessel, trading between the islands on the coast of Asia and the Cape of
Good Hope. Conceiving him to be in a state of famine, the consequence of
shipwreck, their first care was to give him some kind of spirituous liquor,
which his extreme thirst induced him at first to swallow eagerly, but in
another moment he rejected it; nevertheless, the effects were instantly
injurious, and brought on the highest stage of delirium. It did not appear
wonderful to the sailors, that the poor stranger should exhibit symptoms
of madness, for they concluded that he had lost his all; and seeing he
was well dressed, and of a fine athletic form, likely soon to recover and
reward them, they lost not a moment in seizing him, and placing him in
their boat, taking his gun along with them, and securing both that and
his pistols, lest in the despair which seemed to actuate him, he should
turn them against himself. Just as they were clearing their way from the
sands, poor Sambo arrived, and with unutterable agonies, beheld the strangers
take away his master alone, at the very time when he was seeking that master,
to aid his dying son. After vociferating in the most violent manner, and
attracting the attention of the seamen, who yet did not understand any
thing besides his distress, he cast off his cloak, and swam out to the
boat, which received him willingly, but either could not, or would not
understand his entreaties on the subject of Charles. It was in vain the
poor boy knelt to them, or addressed his master, who now lay in a kind
of fit, as if he were dead already; and when, in his distress, he would
have jumped into the sea, to return to "dear Misser Sharly," they not only
prevented him, but bound him, and compelled him to lie down in the boat,
conceiving that, like his master, his sufferings from shipwreck and famine
had touched his brain, and inflicted a temporary loss of reason.
On reaching the ship, both master and servant were received humanely
by the commander; but the storm threatened, by sure signs, for some hours,
was now coming on with frightful rapidity, and he reproved his men for
delay, being anxious to get out to sea, as far as possible, lest they should
be driven on either of the neighbouring islands. The strangers were placed
in safety, but no farther care could be given to their case, for the present;
as the tempest soon broke on them, with the utmost fury, and the light
ship flew before the wind, with the velocity of a bird, far, far
from the more immediate objects of fear, and far from the sick boy, now
pining on the desert Island, and vainly calling on his father for that
help he wanted so much for himself.
In the mean time, Sambo, as his sense of despair for Charles's sad case
increased, began to see how necessary it was to attend to him whom he considered
his only surviving friend -- "Poor Misser Sharly! him die by himselb: he
hab no fader, no servant; an see here, my own good sahib -- he die too,
he no speak, or speak foolish: what will Sambo do? him cry as a ribber,
dat do no good."
As the only intelligible word Mr. Crusoe now uttered was a cry for water,
the poor boy's first care was to procure that for him; and even in the
confusion of the hour, as it was plentiful, he was so happy as to get it,
and from time to time, he held it to the parched lips of the invalid, who
found it, perhaps, the best palliative of his complaint.
When the storm was over, he, like his poor son, experienced a degree
of relief in his breathing, and the acute pangs in his head subsided; but
his delirium was continued several days, in consequence (most probably)
of the entire change of scene in all around him, the unknown language in
which he was addressed, and fluctuating notions, of his being both at sea
and upon a desert island, which he had no remembrance of having quitted.
The appearance of Sambo hovering about him, he always thought very advantageous
to him, at this afflictive period, as he associated the idea of his son
with him; and when, in answer to his inquiries for Charles, the poor boy
shook his head, and wept, he conceived that he too was sick, and confined
to his bed; and often vehemently insisted on being taken to his room, that
he might wait on his poor child, and give him the medicines he needed.
In the mean time, the ship had a fine run to the Cape; and on landing
there, Mr. Crusoe, and even poor Sambo, were soon recognised by friends,
eager to assist them; and into their hands the Dutchman was glad to put
his charge, whose money and arms he honestly deposited with the governor,
demanding only a proper payment for his trouble, which was paid doubly,
with thanks; but the gentleman who transacted the business heard, with
great regret, that hitherto the sick passenger had had no medical help.
The best medical assistance was now rendered to poor Mr, Crusoe, which
Cape Town afforded; and when bleeding and medicine had been administered,
the remaining fever was soon subdued, and the mind of the patient awoke
as from sleep; and though reduced to the very brink of the grave, he might
be said, in a short time, to be free from disorder.
At this time, Sambo, whose fidelity, and anxiety for his master, together
with his lamentations for his son, had attracted much attention, had happily
made a kind of acquaintance with Mr. Parker, whose sympathy was so much
excited, that having some spare time on his hands, he gave it up to managing
the weakened frame and anxious heart of this afflicted father. Acting on
the supposition Mr. Crusoe entertained of Charles's illness, he suffered
him to retain this delusion, until he could safely inform him of the truths
as revealed by Sambo; and then believing, as he did, that the poor boy's
misfortunes must ere now have terminated by death, he earnestly entreated
Mr. Crusoe to take a passage on board a ship then going to England. He
hoped, that in the bosom of his beloved family, he would find the only
solace that remained for the loss of his son; and he urged, the very hopelessness
of the case, as a reason for expediting his removal.
Vain, however, was all that could be urged on this point; from the moment
the unhappy father understood the nature and extent of his misfortune,
he determined not to revisit Europe, till he had convinced himself that
his poor forsaken child existed no longer. True, however, to all his duties,
and aware that the wreck of the ship in which he had sailed from India,
must reach his wife in a short time, and occasion her the most poignant
anguish, he exerted himself to see the passengers of the ship Mr. Parker
mentioned, and engaged one of them, (a lady, who proved to be an old friend),
to see his wife on her arrival, and break to her, by degrees, the probable
loss of her son, together with an assurance of his own safety; and his
intention to come to her, as soon as the nature of his painful duties admitted.
To this he added, an earnest assurance that however deep his affliction
must be, for the loss of a son so fondly beloved, and so singularly bereft,
he would yet, for her sake, and that of his dear surviving child, struggle
to attain resignation to this awful dispensation.
He also sent a few lines to the widowed daughter of Captain Gordon,
informing her of her father's death, and of the documents once in his possession,
which secured provision to herself and fatherless, children; and enclosed
an authority, whereby she might draw on his banker for her present wants,
which he knew to be pressing.
Having exerted himself on this important point, Mr. Crusoe (though still
too weak to leave his room) began to make every possible inquiry for the
means of returning to the Island of St. Paul. He found, that neither that
nor the more important one of Amsterdam, were now ever touched at: and
although he made most liberal offers, for the present he had no chance
whatever of engaging any vessel to go thither, the season of the year precluding
the power of doing so. One disappointment on this head succeeding another,
and all preying upon his health, which was still extremely delicate, he
at length gladly acceded to the proposal of Mr, Parker, who was going out
with a cargo to Ceylon, (and being valuable, both as a passenger and a
medical man, to the captain with whom he sailed,) he promised him, on his
return, to sail direct for St. Paul's islands and give Mr. Crusoe an opportunity
of fully examining the island, and paying the rites of christian burial
to his unfortunate son.
The voyage to Ceylon was not attended with those dangers from which
Mr. Crusoe had suffered on former occasions; but it was singularly tedious,
and he had, unhappily, too much leisure to meditate on his misfortune.
Many a time did he think, that if he could find Charles had died of the
fever, in the very spot where Sambo had left him, he could be happy and
thankful; but he could not endure the pain of believing that hiss poor
boy had wandered about the island, weary and sickly, harassed with fear,
afflicted with sorrow, and perishing with hunger. Above all other grief,
was that awakened by the idea, that Charles might think that he had willingly
forsaken him -- "Surely," he would exclaim, in agony, "my son does not
consider me capable of this! I trust he rather believes me dead, watches
for my corpse on the beach, and at length dies, broken-hearted for my loss;
for even this fate (melancholy as it is) will be more easy to him, than
suspecting me so changed -- so wicked as to be capable of the cruelty of
saving my own life, at the expence of my duty and my affection to him."
Under the pressure of these melancholy thoughts, the days seemed of
tenfold length to the unfortunate voyager; and in despite of all the cares
of his kind friend, Mr. Parker, he suffered much in his health; and all
our young readers will he aware, that, at this time, he was in a more deplorable
state than Charles, as to his feelings, though the actual situation of
the poor boy was apparently so much worse. Mr. Crusoe, being on ship-board,
could not apply himself to any employment capable of diverting his thoughts
from that one painful object which engrossed them; and as he neither worked
as a mariner, nor commanded as an officer, he had nothing to do but to
watch the wind, which, though not violent, was almost always contrary,
so that his spirits were continually oppressed; and what was still more
mortifying, was the certainty, that this very wind would take him to the
place where of all others he desired to go. It appeared as if the hand
of Heaven was drawing him to the desolate island, and the hand of man thwarting
its design; therefore no possible state could be more irritating to the
temper, or harassing to the heart.
During this period, we may remember that our young exile was enduring
those evils which compelled him to forget the sorrows of the mind in the
wants of the body: hunger and cold drove him, to exertion -- past suffering
induced him to use contrivances how to escape it, for the future -- and
the hope of relief, at the end of a given season, led him to adopt every
possible means of sustaining life till that time arrived. To this may be
added, a laudable desire of proving himself a manly and clever boy, by
using every resource his situation allowed; and above all, a continual
sense of the goodness of God, in his daily preservation, from which he
argued, that such mercies might be continued and increased.
Once arrived at Ceylon, Mr. Crusoe found the captain as active in the
disposal of one cargo and reshipment of another, as he could desire; and
as he met here with several persons whom he had known in India, and found
the means of procuring assistance in pecuniary matters, which was a present
convenience, he experienced relief to his mind, and partial renovation
to his health; and being always active and acute, in all matters of business,
he greatly assisted the captain and others, in the management of their
concerns; and so expedited their return, that the vessel sailed again,
under the prevalence of those winds which had, during the first voyage,
been the occasion of so much hindrance.
Though Mr. Crusoe's situation was every way improved; seeing that every
person in the ship was now disposed to assist his search, and he had changed,
in their estimation, from a fretful invalid, (always repining and discontented,)
to that of a benevolent man, of great abilities, in whose anxieties every
person of sensibility must partake, yet his actual distress was rather
increased, than diminished, as he drew nearer the object to which he had
so long looked. In such situations, some hope will mingle with fear; and
by that very means increase the pain of disappointment; and for this reason,
whenever the anxious father dared to make any promising conjectures as
to the fate of his son, both the captain and Mr. Parker thought it their
duty to quench all hopes of the kind. He would sometimes speak of Peter,
the wild boy, who was found in the forests of Hamelin, in Hanover, and
appeared to be about thirteen years old, when he was taken feeding on grass
and moss, and that he thought it was possible human beings might find nourishment
in substances they had never tried before. To this Mr. Parker would reply
-- "Yes, sir, an infant, left at two years old, might perhaps do so; but
your son was thirteen years old when he was lost; his habits were those
of a gentleman; and notwithstanding you might take pains to make him active
and independent, eastern manners and eastern luxuries must have had considerable
effect in enervating his mind, and weakening his body; and you say he was
rather little of his age, and though active, not strong. How could a boy
of this description live, when the fruits were gone? Besides, he must think
both you and Sambo dead, and grief for your loss, in addition to his own
miserable situation, would so prey on his spirits, as to increase the maladies
consequent on hunger and bad food, and render it impossible for him to
struggle long; and the deluging rains, to which the islands are subject,
falling when the leaves afforded no shelter, and the cave, of which you
speak, had probably fallen in, would add to his distress, and -- "
"Say no more -- say no more!" poor Mr. Crusoe would cry, "for I cannot
bear the dreadful images you bring to my mind! perhaps the storm that drove
me, with such rapidity, far from him, might prove my poor boy's destruction;
and happy should I be, if I thought he was struck by the lightning, and
dead in a moment, rather than that he should know I was taken from him,
and die in languishing misery."
"Poor Misser Sharly! neither him die one of dem way, neither him die
de oder," would Sambo say: "no, him die in him bed, wid head that ache
him, wid fever that parch him, same as him fader. Him hab no boy to gib
water, water, when that Sambo leave him is all drankee: nobody to hold
him up, when he will pant, pant -- so he die quike dead, on him mattress,
and nobody bury -- nobody burn."
This sad conclusion was usually followed by a flood of tears, occasioned
in the poor boy, not only by sorrow for the loss of his beloved "Misser
Sharly," but the remembrance that his own mother had been burnt with the
corpse of his father; after which, the Bramins, who had persuaded her to
the sacrifice, deserted and defrauded her son, who would have been condemned
to the most helpless poverty, if he had not been protected by his indulgent
master -- that master who now no longer hoped to find his own son living;
and only became anxious to ascertain (so far as he was able) the manner
of his death, and give to his remains a grave.
When within a short distance of their present destination, a breeze
sprang up, which was directly against them, being the same which had borne
poor Charles so far from the island. This occasioned some delay, during
which time the father's terrible solicitude increased to very agony; and
no food reached his lips, no sleep visited his eyes, the two days preceding
his arrival at the fatal spot. On landing, the first object he beheld was
the grave of Captain Gordon, on which he had, with his own hands, laid
the planks which still remained, and around which were planted trees, which
could only have done by human hands -- the hands of Charles Crusoe.
"My, boy must have survived the fever: he unquestionably planted those
trees."
" It certainly appears so," said Mr. Parker; "but as they are nearly
all withered, one cannot tell how long they have been done. Some vessel
may have touched at the island, as it is well known to have plenty of good
water. Let us see a little further."
Sambo had, in the meantime, ran to the hut, from whence he cried aloud
to his young master; for finding no remains of his corpse on the bed, (which
was the place in which his imagination had always laid him), he instantly
conceived that he must be alive. His voice, at this period, did not reach
Charles, but soon led Mr. Parker and the trembling father thither; and
the latter, in the improvement of the place, instantly saw that his son
had lived and laboured long after he left him; and he then first fired
the piece which had struck the ear of Charles, and ordered Sambo to go
down towards the spot from whence they had both departed, as being that
where (if still living) he was most likely to be found, and which comprehended
a circle of two-thirds of the island.
The boy departed, shouting as he went, whilst the surgeon, anticipating
that a shriek of horror might too soon be exchanged for his present exultation,
tried to prepare Mr. Crusoe for the change he anticipated, by begging him
to look round the hut, and see whether the few things now in it were the
same as those he had left. It was, at this time, comparatively stripped,
because all save the bed, was removed to the boat, and a few empty gourds,
an oil flask, and lamp, alone remained within view, except the sailor's
jacket and trowsers, which Mr. Crusoe remarked he had never seen before.
"It appears to me, that somebody has really been to the island, and
most probably taken away your son. These things have belonged to a common
seaman, who has probably exchanged them for something belonging to you
or Captain Gordon."
"No! I dare not believe this solution of the mystery: If the island
has been visited, Charles has been robbed, and probably murdered."
At this moment one of the seamen fired, and that loud exulting cry was
heard, which told them Charles must be found: the surgeon ran back to the
beach and beheld, to his astonishment, Sambo and the strange boy. Mr. Crusoe,
with trembling limbs, would have run also, but had scarcely power to move,
until, by a sudden bound, he burst through the trees, and in another minute
beheld his son. On his uttering a cry of joy, he became still more certain
of his identity, for the poor boy sank, as if struck by the hand of death,
on the ground before him; and such was the agitation which convulsed his
own weakened frame, that, for some time, the spectators dreaded to see
death ensue, at the very moment when father and son were thus miraculously
restored to each other.
The kindness and skill of Mr. Parker probably saved one, or the other,
from witnessing the end of their hopes, on this affecting occasion; and
to him they were still further indebted, on returning to the ship, where
he found it necessary to attend, for some time, to the health of Charles,
who, after so long living, as it were, in the open air, could ill hear
the confinement of the vessel, even during the hours of night, and whose
food, for some time disagreed with him, in consequence of its being so
different to all that he had lately been able to procure.
We must now follow our happy wanderers to the Cape of Good Hope, where
they arrived, in due time, without any accident, to the great joy of Charles,
who, although he had been too happy to complain, was heartily tired of
the confinement of a ship, and embraced, with extraordinary delight, the
power of walking about on dry land, listening to the birds, which had lately
been his sole companions, and gazing on the trees and plants, as objects
of beauty and wonder.
The Table Mountain, at the Cape, by offering a striking variety to the
flat island on which he had dwelt so long, pleased him exceedingly, and
he wished to set out to it immediately; but his father told him, that he
must not go any where, until he had procured proper clothes for him, which
could not be done on ship-board. Of the truth of this remark Charles was
soon convinced, by the curious eyes which were bent upon him, on all sides,
and from which he was eager to fly. He had frequently wished, to behold
a single human being, as the greatest possible treat, in his days of solitude,
and he was now surprised at himself, for considering a crowd annoying;
nevertheless, he could not divest his mind of much timidity, and an earnest
desire to run into the open country, unseen and alone, to think on the
goodness of God, in restoring his father to him, and bringing him back
into the world. He felt a sense of the blessings of society in his heart,
but he wished for the freedom of solitude, in which to indulge his feelings;
for having accustomed himself to express his thoughts in words, when he
was alone so long, he naturally desired to do it now, in the same way,
for, except to his father, he felt fearful of speaking.
Mr. Crusoe sought, by every gentle means, to wean him from this extreme
bashfulness, which was contracted entirely by his long retirement; and
as his friends at the Cape showed him all possible attention, and were
extremely anxious to see a son who was found under such extraordinary circumstances,
he took him a good deal into company, and saw, with much pleasure, that
every day made a little improvement in his feelings and his manners. It
was evident, that when he was with sensible people, and especially with
scientific persons, or those who had travelled much, and related their
observations on different people, and the productions of nature, he was
very happy; but trifling chit-chat, or boisterous mirth, teazed and wearied
him exceedingly.
"Really, papa," he would say, "one had better sit in a hut with a parrot,
than listen to such nonsense as some people talk. When I lived by myself,
I thought every body in the world were good and wise; and I used to sit,
and fancy how ladies and gentlemen,would talk on certain subjects, but
I don't find that they are at all what I expected. I did not expect sailors
to speak of my favourite subjects, therefore I had no disappointment on
shipboard; but, with a few exceptions, I have had many here."
"And pray, my dear, what were your imaginary conversations? I mean,
what were your favourite subjects?"
"The wonders of God in the creation, as to animals, trees, flowers,
and even stones, papa, (of which I have collected many curious specimens
in pebbles), and the goodness of God, in the redemption of the world by
the death of his Son. I did not remember people talking much of religion,
at Bombay, when I was present, it is true; but I concluded that they forbore
to do so, because I was a child, and that I should have that pleasure when
I was a man."
"But, my dear Charles, you do not call yourself a man?"
"No, papa; I think, in some respects, I am more a child than ever; but
still, when I was on the island, time moved slowly; and I read much, and
thought much, so that I fancied I was growing quite a man. I hope it was
not conceit in me -- do you think it was, my dear sir?"
"No, my dear Charles; it was the natural result of an ardent and inquiring
mind, left without a guide, at that period of life when the desire of knowledge
is most lively, and the expansion of intellect most rapid. You are far
from being a man, and have, of course, much tolearn; but you are a manly
boy; and when we arrive in Europe, you shall have every advantage of education.
In the mean time, you cannot do better than exercise your mind on the subjects
you mention, for whether people talk of them or not, they are the most
worthy contemplation, of any thing presented to the human mind. I must
not, however, disguise from you the truth, that in the world, people in
general are so busy with the cares or the pleasures of life, that they
do not think so much on these subjects, as is consistent with their duty
or their happiness."
"I am well aware, that every body living here have come out to get their
fortunes, father; and that they think very little of any thing else; but
I suppose in London society is much superior."
" In London, my dear, superior society may be best found; but it is
always a jewel to be sought -- not a commodity to be stumbled on. I wish
you, my dear boy, to be very choice in your society, for to a young man,
it is the very life of his life; but in the mean time, you must be affable
with all, for it is scarcely possible to converse with any person, without
learning something from their experience and observation."
Within a fortnight after their arrival at the Cape, they procured the
means of prosecuting their voyage in a noble ship, with many pleasant passengers;
so that the latter part of their long-suspended voyage to England made
amends, in a great measure, for the hardships and misfortunes of the first
portion of it. Charles being now in a much larger vessel than before, and
supplied by the passengers with a variety of books, passed his time more
pleasantly; and his past history being unknown to the crew and passengers,
he was not subject to those inquiries or jokes, which formerly troubled
him. He had been very sorry to part with Mr. Parker, for whose kindness
he was truly grateful, and whom his father intended by and by to establish
in England; but his present society was exceedingly agreeable, and he endeavoured
to render his own manners as much like theirs as he could, conscious, that
in his long seclusion, he had contracted habits that were a little uncouth,
and might to others appear silly and ludicrous.
They touched at St. Helena, and of course visited the tomb of Buonaparte,
and talked much about him: all the passengers seemed to think residing
in such a small island, a terrible punishment; and a lady observed, "That
it was surprising to her, that the ex-emperor had lived so long in such
a frightful solitude;" saying, to Charles, who had hitherto been silent
on the subject, "Don't you think the poor man must have been very wretched
-- very much to be pitied, Master Crusoe?"
"I don't think him much to be pitied for living here, ma'am, for it
appears to me a very pretty place; nor can I conceive a man to be very
wretched, who had so many friends about him, as he had."
"You are too young to understand the matter; you do not know the miseries
of solitude; but your father can tell you, that legislators agree, there
is no punishment so bad, as a solitary cell, and they never inflict it
upon any but hardened criminals."
"But this is very different to a solitary cell, and even that is far
better than a really solitary island; for there the criminal knows, that
at the end of a certain day, month, or year, he shall be again restored
to society; whereas a man cut off, by a wide ocean, from all the rest of
the world, has no such cause for comfort; his spirits droop, and no voice
cheers him -- he is sick, and no hand brings him food -- his affections
are vividly excited towards every human being, the meanest of whom would
be to him an invaluable friend -- but he dares not believe that he must
ever be cheered by the sight of one human face again -- he is buried before
he dies, and feels as if he ought to be dead, yet with his heart so warm,
the life in his limbs so strong, he cannot die; and besides, God commands
him to live, and gives some little prospect, some glimmering of hope, that
incites him still to struggle on -- still to endure the hunger that gnaws
him, the grief that consumes him!"
"My dear boy, you are absolutely eloquent!" cried the lady, as poor
Charles, overcome with the recollections, thus excited, suddenly stopped.
" I had no idea that a person, at your age, could have looked so deeply
into a case of this nature, especially an imaginary one; it makes one think
of Alexander Selkirk, and the poor fellow, only a few years ago, left by
a brutal captain on a desolate shore: you are really quite poetical in
your conception of the case."
Charles hastened away to conceal his emotions, and avoid hearing praise
to which he had no pretension; for he well knew that he had unawares spoken
simply from his heart, and not from his imagination; and was vexed with
himself, for so nearly revealing the circumstance he had earnestly desired
both his father and Sambo to conceal. He was not sorry, when they again
sailed, to find that the great exile and his banishment were soon forgotten,
as every person now began to look forward to Madeira, and speak of it in
terms of unqualified admiration. The captain one day observed, when this
subject was spoken of, "That he never could see any reason for disputing
an assertion, once relied on, viz, that this beautiful island was originally
discovered by an Englishman, named Machin, or Macham, who having married
an heiress, without the consent of her friends, set out with her for the
continent, and was driven, by contrary winds, to this island, which, in
the name of its province, Machico, authorises the account."
"It has," observed Mr. Crusoe, "been considered fabulous by some writers,
I really believe for no other reason, than because it was connected with
a romantic story; just as if real life never presented us with circumstances
in themselves as singular as any imagination can conceive. They have also
asserted, that there is no English name of that description, another proof
of ignorance, since there are several families of that name now living
in the populous towns of Manchester and Sheffield; and the small, but pretty
and ancient town of Masham, in Yorkshire, is sufficiently like the word,
to warrant the English derivation of this unfortunate person."
Many comments were added, of pity to the poor man, who had been wrecked
with his bride on this beautiful island; and conjectures were made, as
to his power of providing for subsistence, but Charles now made no observation,
though he listened with profound interest, and could not forbear in his
own mind, contriving accommodation, in such a case, for a delicate female;
and as he thought more about his mother and sister, the nearer he approached
to them, he sincerely rejoiced that they had escaped the troubles which
had befallen himself and his father.
The beauties of Madeira, Charles found had not been overrated, and like
others, he was delighted to find himself once more on shore; but he did
not regret exchanging it for the vessel, which was taking him to a more
permanent abode. The society of the ladies on board, had brought his own
mother continually to his mind; and although he did not love his father
less, it is yet certain that he did love his mother more than he had done
for the last two or three years; and every idea that he formed for the
future, was closely connected with her, and that sister, to whom he looked
for a companion and friend. Charles had too much real manliness of mind
and conduct, to be one of those boys who pique themselves on being above
the company of girls; and as he knew Emily had possessed advantages of
education superior to his own, he expected to receive information, and
repay it by protection, in his intercourse with her; and he was well aware,
from all he remembered of her temper and disposition, that she would sympathize
in his past sufferings, and do her best for his present improvement.
His pleasant reveries were interrupted by the bad weather encountered
in the Bay of Biscay, at all times affording a rough sea, but now absolutely
tempestuous. Great distress prevailed among the passengers; and at one
time Mr. Crusoe feared, that he and his unfortunate son should be again
doomed to the horrors of a second shipwreck. At this time, Charles passed
from an apparently timid, retiring boy, into an active, clever young man?
exercising that acute observation which arises from decided natural talents,
united to experience, and displaying an equanimity of spirit, that astonished,
and, in many instances, reproved the elder persons around him. He had attained,
during his residence in the island, a knowledge of the usual progress of
storms, that appeared to those who were ignorant of such phenomena, a kind
of prophecy; and as the captain found that every prediction he made was
regularly fulfilled, he soon placed extraordinary confidence in him, and
kept him continually near him. In consequence of this confidence, the passengers
frequently inquired of Charles that which they could not intrude on the
captain to learn, and were surprised to find the self-possession, as well
as information, shewn by one who held himself in general so humbly, but
who now seemed equal not only to command himself, but others, and frequently
issued orders, that were always obeyed with alacrity, from those who dared
to rely on their propriety.
The storm was at length outridden; the waves, that had risen mountains
high, subsided, and exhibited only a gentle curl, that promised them a
speedy passage to their native land, and every person on board fell into
their usual habits; but it was not possible for our young friend to step
back into insignificance. Young as he was, he had gained the esteem of
the old; and every person was eager to shew him the respect they felt for
his abilities and fortitude, and the affection awakened by his kind attentions
and consolatory manners, in the hour of alarm and danger; and they now
crowded around him, to inquire how he came by so much knowledge, and how
he acquired so much self-command.
I have been shipwrecked once," said Charles.
"So we understand from Mr. Crusoe; but we cannot see how a single shipwreck,
when you must have been almost frightened to death, could have given you
that acute perception of every change in the atmosphere, which the captain
says you possess."
"I have accustomed myself to look earnestly into the skies, and trace
the congregating of those magnificent storms, in which clouds electrify
each other. I like to gaze (even whilst I tremble) at the sublime effects
produced by tempest; and, like the prophet, can watch the cloud no bigger
than a man's hand, cover by degrees the face of heaven, with a curtain
of thick darkness."
"You have of course determined to pursue a seafaring life?" said one
of the gentlemen.
"Indeed, sir, I have never thought of such a thing; I am much too young
to determine on any thing; seeing I have a father who will determine for
me."
"But as your bent is so decided, as it is plain you love the sea, and
possess the talent called for in a navigator, I hope your father will not
forbid you to indulge your wishes."
"My wishes do not tend that way, sir. I like the sea very well, though
not as well as I used to do; but I have no desire to live upon it, or subject
myself again to the troubles I have experienced from it. I wish my profession
to be a very different one, at present; but I shall certainly express no
wish to my father on the subject, until my education is much farther advanced,
and I may be supposed to have better reasons for choice than I can have
now."
So saying, Charles skipped away to his father, who was at that time
walking on deck and feeding the parrot, which was an universal favourite,
and, like his master, had recovered his power of mixing in general society.
The sailors were just now particularly fond of Poll, because, in the height
of the storm, he had never ceased to cry, "Don't despair, my dear boy;"
and Mr. Crusoe now learnt from his son, the reason why the poor creature
had been taught these words, and how often he had chanced to use them,
in the most suitable moment, and with the happiest effect.
When the fond father was told of the above conversation, he rejoiced
exceedingly to hear that his son had no predilection for a seaman's life,
having, like others, believed that to be the case, notwithstanding all
that had occurred; and he now became solicitous to know to what his desires
turned. This he told Charles, adding -- "That since he had unavoidably
lost much time, if he desired to enter on a learned profession, he would
engage for him the best masters, as soon as they arrived."
"Then, papa" said Charles, "I will tell you frankly, that I do earnestly
desire to be brought up to the church, considering it the best way I have
of shewing gratitude to God, for the preservation of my life and my understanding,
in circumstances so extraordinary as those I have experienced. But as I
know myself to be not only very young, but in many respects ignorant, I
did not like, on such a serious subject, to excite any ridicule; so if
you please we will say nothing about it for some time to come."
"Perhaps I have. The people on board the ship that rescued me, though
they were really good at the bottom, called me the 'wild man of the woods,'
you know, and the speaking 'ourang outang' and used to tell me my own mother
would not know me, so that I have got a kind of fear, that I am like nobody
else."
"My dear boy," replied Mr. Crusoe, "I am very sorry you should suffer
pain from such an unworthy cause, for even allowing, that from long seclusion
and peculiar habits, you might (when you were first found,) appear singular,
depend upon it, that would very soon go off, for young people soon contract
and soon lose any impression or habit. However, since one of two evils
were always likely to arise, either that you should be exalted into a hero
in your own eyes, and made for the rest of your youth a conceited coxcomb,
I had much rather of the two that you should experience the fear which
now affects you. When you mix with boys of your own age, this timidity
(so far as it is painful) will subside; and in the mean time, comfort yourself
with knowing that your father is not ashamed, but proud of you."
At length the ship anchored off Deal, and the shore of that beloved England,
so long desired, were visible, and there was no time lost in hastening
to them. As Mr. Crusoe had been now more than a year and a half without
any intelligence of his wife and daughter, (his voyage in search of Charles
rendering it impossible that he should receive letters), he experienced
again nearly the same emotions which affected him when he reached the desolate
island, except in the satisfaction of knowing, that his beloved wife was
surrounded by friends, and whether living or dead, had been blessed by
those consolations of which his son was so long deprived.
Not knowing how far Mrs. Crusoe had been informed of the jeopardy of
her son, or whether she remained in ignorance of an event, which would
of course render his long absence and her own want of letters the more
distressing, Mr. Crusoe thought it advisable to see that lady and her husband
in the first place, to whom he had assigned the delicate task of acquainting
her, when he was first at the Cape. He knew that she resided at Brompton,
and that the gentleman, Captain Coventry, could be heard of at the Clarendon
Hotel; and as his first duty was to call at the East India House, he determined
to proceed thence towards that dear home, where his heart was already hovering
in joy and fear, and learn on the road, if possible, the present situation
of his lady, and then announce his arrival to her.
In consequence, they took a friendly leave of their fellow-passengers,
and travelling post, soon arrived in London. Before reaching the India
House, Charles had been absolutely surprised at the number of streets and
houses; and in going thence all the way up to Piccadilly, it may be supposed
how much he was astonished. When he saw London, as he approached it from
Blackheath, he called it a forest of houses, of which his memory furnished
him with no parallel; but yet his mind was not impressed by it nearly in
the same way that it appeared to be, when such a multitude of his fellow-creatures
actually surrounded him, as are always seen traversing the streets of the
metropolis. Under the surprise of one party, and the anxiety of the other,
both remained equally silent, until they reached the hotel, and learnt
that Captain Coventry was then residing with his family in Brampton, in
a house, as it appeared, very near to that taken hy Mrs. Crusoe; so that
they could not doubt receiving every information respecting her from him;
and Mr, Crusoe requested the postillions to drive thither as quick as possible.
Sambo, who had been seated on the box, and exceedingly delighted with
all he saw in the latter part of the drive, (for the former confusion rather
frightened him), seized the momentary stoppage to exclaim -- "Ah! Misser
Sharly, him city here quite differ to Saintee Paul; here mens more thick
than trees; plenty beefs, plenty pies, no thunder here, but coachee; no
green serpent here, Misser Sharly."
Mr. Crusoe shook his head, and half smiled at the last remark, remembering
there were snares in London, if not serpents; but his heart was too full
to speak; besides, in addition to the many sounds of the streets, the parrot
added his voice, for having caught the word Captain, when they stopped,
he continued to cry, "Captain Gordon ahoy," till they arrived at Captain
Coventry's door.
It so happened, that the master of the house reached it at the same
moment, and heartily welcomed Mr. Crusoe, who was so agitated, he could
not make the very inquiries which faltered on his tongue; but before he
had time to speak, Captain Coventry said -- "You see I have got this evening's
Courier in my hand; it announces the arrival of the Asia, and adds, 'We
understand the names of Wilmington, Crusoe, Sneyd, &c. are among the
passengers;' so I ran to Mrs. Crusoe that moment with the news, and also
entreated her and Emily to come and dine with us, that we might talk about
you together: but, bless my life, this must be your son?"
"Yes, sir," said Sambo, anxious to be recognised as a former acquaintance,
"him be him fader own son; Sambo find him again on desert island."
"My dear boy," said the warm-hearted captain, clasping him to his breast,
"I am more rejoiced to see you, than I have time to tell you; but come
up stairs this moment; Mrs. Coventry must hide you somewhere; your poor
mother is at this time in deep mourning for you, and in delicate health;
this joy must not be given too suddenly."
When Captain Coventry had mentioned the words already related, which
assured Mr. Crusoe of the safety of his dear wife and daughter, he had
involuntarily flung himself on a chair in the hall, overpowered with gratitude
and joy; but he now hastened into the drawing-room, where he found Mrs.
Coventry, who gave him a sincere welcome, and Charles likewise. On learning
the safety of the latter, she exceedingly lamented that dear Mrs, Crusoe
had ever been led to doubt it, as it had greatly affected her health, and
rendered her much more uneasy about her husband, than she would otherwise
have been.
"I did all for the best," cried Captain Coventry; "I had not the slightest
doubt in my own mind that the poor boy had been dead months before, when
Mr. Crusoe set out to seek him; and as I received letters from Ceylon,
in which his father himself, owing to the long delay, said he had given
up all hopes of his existence, I thought it my duty to prepare my poor
friend here and her daughter for the truth, especially as it was the only
proper way of accounting for the protracted absence of her husband. I did
not expect that you would arrive so soon by six weeks, so I told her about
two months since, trusting, that by the time of your arrival, time would
so far have softened her sorrow, (great as it was), that she might not
afflict you on your meeting by speaking of it, and renewing the grievous
state of feeling under which I had seen you suffer; both myself and my
wife have done our best to comfort her, and her resignation to Heaven has
done more; but she is yet in much affliction."
Just then a knock was heard at the door -- "Here she comes," said Mrs.
Coventry; "I well know her mind is in such a flutter with the news, she
can rest nowhere. Go down, my dear, and tell her of Mr. Crusoe's arrival;
I will take Charles into my dressing-room."
Pursuant to this arrangement, in a few minutes the affectionate and
long-parted couple were in each others arms; and little Emily, now a tall,
lovely girl of thirteen, claimed the parental kiss. Tears mingled with
their caresses, but Mrs. Crusoe struggled to suppress all symptoms of that
sorrow for their mutual loss, which was still uppermost in her mind, and
did not revert to any thing which could damp the evident unmingled joy
of her husband. When they had sat together alone a little time, Mr. Crusoe
inquired after their friends and relations.
"All are well," said Mrs. Crusoe ; "but I have lost one, my great-uncle,
Mr. Robinson, of Lincolnshire; he was a very old man, and 1 have never
seen him since my childhood, so that I cannot call him a loss."
"You were his nearest relation, Emily, though a distant one; and he
ought to have left you something handsome, for he was very rich: but never
mind, my love -- we can do without it, thank God,"
These words entirely overcame the poor mother, who now burst into tears,
and was unable to speak, whilst Emily (weeping also) replied to her father.
-- "If my poor brother had lived, papa, he was to have had all Mr. Robinson's
estate, on adding the name of Robinson to his own. If mamma has no son,
the estate goes to a still more distant relation; but the old gentleman
has been very good to me."
"Then we are all much obliged to him, my dear, and I will get a new
black coat tomorrow; you are already in mourning, I perceive."
"Not for him, poor man -- oh, no, not for him," cried the agitated
mother.
"Emily, my dearest Emily, I cannot bear to see you thus, knowing as
I do, the source of your sorrows, and aware as I am, that you ought not
to weep."
"Perhaps you think that because I have left my poor Charles so long,
I have forgotten him; but indeed that is not the case; he is now in my
memory as fresh as ever. I well remember, just before I set sail for England,
that he was wishing one morning to be like Robinson Crusoe, and it was
that recollection which overcame me."
"It was indeed too likely to do so, and I am not sorry to have an opportunity
thus offered, to talk with you about our beloved boy; but I fear you have
not the fortitude to hear me."
"Oh! yes, I have; I even wish to hear all the particulars of his death."
Those I cannot give you, for I am fully persuaded that he is not dead,
my dear."
"Not dead! then he must have been carried away, and is in a state of
slavery. Tell me in a moment why you think he still lives?"
"Be calm then, and I will give you my reasons; I have seen him living,
and even spoken to him; he is in a state of captivity at this moment, I
grant, Emily; but he is in health."
"He is here, here" cried the mother, sinking on her knees, and
holding up her hands to Heaven; "bring him to my arms this instant."
"I did not promise you this, Emily," cried Mr, Crusoe, terrified by
her pale, wild looks, and seeking now to repress the emotion he had awakened.
"I know he is here, for you, Charles, would never leave your
son a captive in a foreign land. No, he is here -- bring me to him,
and I will be calm!"
At this moment, Mrs. Coventry, alarmed by the loud exclamation of her
friend, rushed into the room, and earnestly besought her to be calm, adding
an indirect insinuation that Charles's health would suffer. On this she
conceived the idea, that he was perhaps only restored to her, that he might
die with her; and the contending fear so far damped her joy, as to render
it bearable. In a short, time she had the satisfaction to hold him in her
arms, to gaze on him again, recall his features and his voice, and by degrees
assure herself, that allowing for the darkness of his complexion, and his
extraordinary growth, there was nothing alarming in his appearance.
Emily thought there was every thing admirable in it; she walked round
him again and again, brushed up his hair with her fingers, and called him
"brother," at every word, delighted with the acquisition she had made,
and anticipating, from his future love, more happiness than she had ever
known since the day when they were parted. For some time, poor Charles,
who was almost equally affected with his mother, (since the sight of her
brought vividly to his remembrance all his own period of sufferings), could
scarcely speak; but when he was become a little more familiar with the
circle, he found himself so happy, that he could not contain the overflowing
of his thankfulness; and he retired to the room he had quitted, that he
might, unseen, pour out his full heart to God, in prayer and praise.
Need we tell our young readers with what joy Charles presented his collection
of shells and feathers to his sister, thus proving, that she had been held
dear, at a time when he had little hope of ever shewing his affection;
it will be readily believed, that they were thought the most beautiful
that were ever beheld; yet that the history attached to all his movements,
at that eventful time, was still more interesting than his present.
"And what have you got for me, Charles?" said Mrs. Crusoe.
"Let us see them, by all means," was the cry; and as Charles had really
got one of the shawls with him, it was immediately brought up stairs by
Sambo, whom his good lady had already seen and welcomed.
The silk shawl, already mentioned, which was of a very singular pattern,
was immediately spread out, on which Captain Coventry said -- "That is
the very shawl I bought for you, my dear, at Benares; I could know it from
a thousand, and which we all thought was lost, through the carelessness
of Said, along with the rest of your finery."
"I put it," said Mrs. Coventry, "myself in the bottom of a box, along
with one much more valuable, though less shewy, together with gold and
silver muslin, ostrich feathers, and many other things."
"All which I can restore you, except the shoes, which I wore out, and
the handkerchiefs, for which I had a thousand uses. I have also made up
your furs, but I do not think they are much injured."
"You are a sad rogue, I find," said Mrs. Coventry, laughing. "Are you
certain you did not leave any of my things at the India House, for I find
you went there the first thing?"
"I am quite certain that I did; for I took some of your skins
to pack up safely those important papers which belonged to Captain Gordon,
and which it was our first duty to deposit safely there, till we can place
them in the hands of his widowed daughter."
"I shall then get all my property back, for that lady married
a cousin of mine; she is the mother of three little children, and would
have been before this time in great distress, if my dear Coventry had not
assisted her: but now she will probably be rendered comfortable for life,
her poor children well educated, and her friends easy for them all."
Charles now went out to bring his parrot, which entered, sitting on
his shoulder, and bawling, "Never despair, my dear boy," to the great delight
of Emily and the captain. It would not at first be persuaded to leave its
master for any person but Sambo; and Mr. Crusoe, observed, that he feared
Poll would prove rather a troublesome present, but he was better than none;
and he did not remember that Charles had given him any thing.
"Oh! fie, papa -- ever since the day my mother left us in India, your
kindness and daily attention to my comfort, said continually, 'my son,
give me thy heart,' and you must know and feel, that you had my whole
heart."
"Indeed I do, my boy; and I rejoice in the gift, not only for my own
happiness in you now, but from the persuasion that your confidence in me,
at the most trying time in your eventful little history, was the reason
why your spirits were supported under such severe distress, and that you
were enabled to recollect my advice on many points, to your advantage."
"Undoubtedly it was, papa; but when I had the power of recollecting
things, I was also a little indebted to my old friend, Robinson Crusoe,
for my exertions and contrivances. I said nothing about him on board, for
fear of their jokes, but among friends, I wish to acknowledge my obligations
to poor Robinson."
"So you ought, my dear, both in the old quarter and a new one, for it
is now time to tell you, that you are likely, by and by, to add that name
to your own, together with a handsome estate; and I think we must all own,
that no boy of your age ever had more fairly earned a right to be called
"Robinson Crusoe."
FINIS
