CHAPTER V - BUILDS A HOUSE - THE JOURNAL
SEPTEMBER 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 the day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal
circumstances I was brought to - viz. 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, 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 hand -
for, seeing her set upright, and not broken to pieces, I hoped, if
the wind abated, I might get on board, and get some food and
necessaries out of her for my relief - so, on the other hand, it
renewed my grief at the loss of my comrades, who, I imagined, if we
had all stayed on board, might have saved the ship, or, at least,
that they would not have been all drowned as they were; and that,
had the men been saved, we might perhaps have built us a boat out
of the ruins of the ship to have carried us to some other part of
the world.
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