CRUSOE’S NARRATIVE. 128

Some days after this, and after I had been on board the ship
and got all that I could out of her, yet I could not forbear getting
up to the top of a little mountain and looking out to sea in hopes
of seeing a ship, then fancy at a vast distance I spied a sail, please
myself with the hopes of it, and then after looking steadily till I
was almost blind, lose it quite, and sit down and weep like a
child, and thus increase my misery by my folly.

But having gotten over these things in some measure, and
having settled my household stuff and habitation, made me a table
and a chair, and all as handsome about me as I could, I began to
keep my journal, of which I shall here give you the copy (though
in it will be told all these particulars over again) as long as it
lasted, for, having no more ink, I was forced to leave it off. -

      
 
 

aes —

Che Fournal.

 

“KPTEMBER 30, 1659. I, poor, miserable
Robinson Crusoe, being shipwrecked during a
dreadful storm in the offing, came on shore on
this dismal unfortunate island, which I called
the Island of Despair, all the rest of the ship’s
company being drowned, and myself almost dead.

All the rest of that day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal
circumstances I was brought to—namely, I had neither food, house,
clothes, weapon, nor place to fly to, and, in despair of any relief,
saw nothing but death before me—either that I should be devoured
by wild beasts, murdered by savages, or starved to death for want
of food. At the approach of night I slept in a tree for fear of wild
creatures, but slept soundly though it rained all night.

October 1. In the morning I saw, to my great surprise, that the
ship had floated with the high tide, and was driven on shore again
much nearer the island; which as it was some comfort, on one