Robinson Crusoe in Words of One Syllable (Version 2) — 09 - Sectin 09

One day, Friday ran up to me in great glee, and said, "They are back!

They are back!"

A mile from shore, there was a boat with a sail, which stood in for the land; but I knew it could not be the one which our two friends had gone out in, for it was on the wrong side of the isle for that.

I saw too, through my glass, a ship out at sea.

There were twelve men in the boat, three of whom were bound in chains, and four had fire arms.

Bye and bye, I saw one of the men raise his sword to those who were in chains, and I felt sure that all was not right.

Then I saw that the three men who had been bound were set free; and when they had come on shore they lay on the ground, in the shade of a tree.

I was soon at their side, for their looks, so sad and worn, brought to my mind the first few hours I had spent in this wild spot, where all to me was wrapt in gloom.

I went up to these men, and said: "Who are you, Sirs?"

They gave a start at my voice and at my strange dress, and made a move as if they would fly from me.

I said, "Do not fear me, for it may be that you have a friend at hand, though you do not think it."

"He must be sent from the sky then," said one of them with a grave look; and he took off his hat to me at the same time.

"All help is from thence, Sir," I said; "but what can I do to aid you?

You look as if you had some load of grief on your breast.

I saw one of the men lift his sword as if to kill you."

The tears ran down the poor man's face, as he said, "Is this a god, or is it but a man?"

"Have no doubt on that score, Sir," said I, "for a god would not have come with a dress like this.

No, do not fear--nor raise your hopes too high; for you see but a man, yet one who will do all he can to help you.

Your speech shows me that you come from the same land as I do.

I will do all I can to serve you.

Tell me your case."

"Our case, Sir, is too long to you while they who would kill us are so near.

My name is Paul.

To be short, Sir, my crew have thrust me out of my ship, which you see out there, and have left me here to die.

It was as much as I could do to make them sheath their swords, which you saw were drawn to slay me.

They have set me down in this isle with these two men, my friend here, and the ship's mate."

"Where have they gone?"

said I. "There, in the wood, close by.

I fear they may have seen and heard us.

If they have, they will be sure to kill us all."

"Have they fire-arms?"

"They have four guns, one of which is in the boat."

"Well then, leave all to me!"

"There are two of the men," said he, "who are worse than the rest.

All but these I feel sure would go back to work the ship."

I thought it was best to speak out to Paul at once, and I said, "Now if I save your life, there are two things which you must do."

But he read my thoughts, and said, "If you save my life, you shall do as you like with me and my ship, and take her where you please."

I saw that the two men, in whose charge the boat had been left, had come on shore; so the first thing I did was to send Friday to fetch from it the oars, the sail, and the gun.

And now the ship might be said to be in our hands.

When the time came for the men to go back to the ship, they were in a great rage; for, as the boat had now no sail nor oars, they knew not how to get out to their ship.

We heard them say that it was a strange sort of isle, for that sprites had come to the boat, to take off the sails and oars.

We could see them run to and fro, with great rage; then go and sit in the boat to rest, and then come on shore once more.

When they drew near to us, Paul and Friday would fain have had me fall on them at once.

But my wish was to spare them, and kill as few as I could.

I told two of my men to creep on their hands and feet close to the ground, so that they might not be seen, and when they got up to the men, not to fire till I gave the word.

They had not stood thus long, when three of the crew came up to us.

Till now, we had but heard their voice, but when they came so near as to be seen, Paul and Friday stood up and shot at them.

Two of the men fell dead, and they were the worst of the crew, and the third ran off.

At the sound of the guns I came up, but it was so dark that the men could not tell if there were three of us or three score.

It fell out just as I could wish, for I heard the men ask, "To whom must we yield, and where are they?"

Friday told them that Paul was there with the king of the isle, who had brought with him a crowd of men!

At this one of the crew said, "If Paul will spare our lives, we will yield."

"Then," said Friday, "you shall know the king's will."

Then Paul said to them, "You know my voice; if you lay down your arms the king will spare your lives!"

They fell on their knees to beg the same of me.

I took good care that they did not see me, but I gave them my word that they should all live, that I should take four of them to work the ship, and that the rest would be bound hand and foot, for the good faith of the four.

This was to show them what a stern king I was.

Of course I soon set them free, and I put them in a way to take my place on the isle.

I told them of all my ways, taught them how to mind the goats, how to work the farm, and make the bread.

I gave them a house to live in, fire arms, tools, and my two tame cats, in fact, all but Poll and my gold.

As I sat on the top of the hill, Paul came up to me.

He held out his hand to point to the ship, and with much warmth took me to his arms, and said, "My dear friend, there is your ship!

For she is all yours, and so are we, and all that is in her."

I cast my eyes to the ship, which rode half a mile off the shore, at the mouth of the creek, and near the place where I had brought my rafts to the land.

Yes, there she stood, the ship that was to set me free, and to take me where I might choose to go.

She set her sails to the wind, and her flags threw out their gay stripes in the breeze.

Such a sight was too much for me, and I fell down faint with joy.

Paul then took out a flask which he had brought for me, and gave me a dram, which I drank, but for a good while I could not speak to him.

Friday and Paul then went on board the ship, and Paul took charge of her once more.

We did not start that night, but at noon the next day I left the isle!

That lone isle, where I had spent so great a part of my life--not much less than thrice ten long years.

When I came back to the dear land of my birth, all was strange and new to me.

I went to my old home at York, but none of my friends were there, and to my great grief I saw, on the stone at their grave, the sad tale of their death.

As they had thought, of course, that I was dead, they had not left me their wealth and lands, so that I stood much in want of means, for it was but a small sum that I had brought with me from the isle.

But in this time of need, I had the luck to find my good friend who once took me up at sea.

He was now grown too old for work, and had put his son in the ship in his place.

He did not know me at first, but I was soon brought to his mind when I told him who I was.

I found from him that the land which I had bought on my way to the isle was now worth much.

As it was a long way off, I felt no wish to go and live there so I made up my mind to sell it, and in the course of a few months, I got for it a sum so large as to make me a rich man all at once.

Weeks, months, and years went by; I had a farm, a wife, and two sons, and was by no means young; but still I could not get rid of a strong wish which dwelt in my thoughts by day and my dreams by night, and that was to set foot once more in my old isle.

I had now no need to work for food, or for means of life; all I had to do was to teach my boys to be wise and good, to live at my ease, and see my wealth grow day by day.

Yet the wish to go back to my wild haunts clung round me like a cloud, and I could in no way drive it from me, so true is it that "what is bred in the bone will not come out of the flesh."

At length I lost my wife, which was a great blow to me, and my home was now so sad, that I made up my mind to launch out once more on the broad sea, and go with my man Friday to that lone isle where dwelt all my hopes.

I took with me as large a store of tools, clothes, and such like goods as I had room for, and men of skill in all kinds of trades, to live in the isle.

When we set sail, we had a fair wind for some time, but one night the mate, who was at the watch, told me he saw a flash of fire, and heard a gun go off.

At this we all ran on deck, from whence we saw a great light, and as there was no land that way, we knew that it must be some ship on fire at sea, which could not be far off, for we heard the sound of the gun.

The wind was still fair, so we made our way for the point where we saw the light, and in half an hour, it was but too plain that a large ship was on fire in the midst of the broad sea.

I gave the word to fire off five guns, and we then lay by, to wait till break of day.

But in the dead of the night, the ship blew up in the air, the flames shot forth, and what there was left of the ship sank.

We hung out lights, and our guns kept up a fire all night long, to let the crew know that there was help at hand.

At eight o'clock the next day we found, by the aid of the glass, that two of the ship's boats were out at sea, quite full of men.

They had seen us, and had done their best to make us see them, and in half an hour we came up with them.

It would be a hard task for me to set forth in words the scene which took place in my ship, when the poor French folk (for such they were) came on board.

As to grief and fear, these are soon told--sighs, tears, and groans make up the sum of them--but such a cause of joy as this was, in sooth, too much for them to bear, weak and all but dead as they were.

Some would send up shouts of joy that rent the sky; some would cry and wring their hands as if in the depths of grief; some would dance, laugh, and sing; not a few were dumb, sick, faint, in a swoon, or half mad; and two or three were seen to give thanks to God.

In this strange group, there was a young French priest who did his best to soothe those round him, and I saw him go up to some of the crew, and say to them, "Why do you scream, and tear your hair, and wring your hands, my men?

Let your joy be free and full, give it full range and scope, but leave off this trick of the hands, and lift them up in praise; let your voice swell out, not in screams, but in hymns of thanks to God, who has brought you out of so great a strait, for this will add peace to your joy."