The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe
few days after; but it was enough to affect me then, who was but a
young sailor, and had never known anything of the matter. I expected
every wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship
fell down, as I thought it did, in the trough or hollow of the sea, we
should never rise more; in this agony of mind, I made many vows and
resolutions that if it would please God to spare my life in this one
voyage, if ever I got once my foot upon dry land again, I would go
directly home to my father, and never set it into a ship again while I
lived; that I would take his advice, and never run myself into such
miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his
observations about the middle station of life, how easy, how
comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to
tempests at sea or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like
a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.
These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm lasted,
and indeed some time after; but the next day the wind was abated, and
the sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to it; however, I was
very grave for all that day, being also a little sea-sick still; but
towards night the weather cleared up, the wind was quite over, and a
charming fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly clear, and
rose so the next morning; and having little or no wind, and a smooth
sea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most
delightful that ever I saw.
I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very
cheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and
terrible the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so
little a time after. And now, lest my good resolutions should continue,
my companion, who had enticed me away, comes to me; “Well, Bob,” says
he, clapping me upon the shoulder, “how do you do after it? I warrant
you were frighted, wer’n’t you, last night, when it blew but a capful
of wind?” “A capful d’you call it?” said I; “’twas a terrible storm.”
“A storm, you fool you,” replies he; “do you call that a storm? why, it
was nothing at all; give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we think
nothing of such a squall of wind as that; but you’re but a fresh-water
sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch, and we’ll forget all
that; d’ye see what charming weather ’tis now?” To make short this sad
part of my story, we went the way of all sailors; the punch was made
and I was made half drunk with it: and in that one night’s wickedness I
drowned all my repentance, all my reflections upon my past conduct, all
my resolutions for the future. In a word, as the sea was returned to
its smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the abatement of that
storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my fears and
apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten, and the
current of my former desires returned, I entirely forgot the vows and
promises that I made in my distress. I found, indeed, some intervals of
reflection; and the serious thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to
return again sometimes; but I shook them off, and roused myself from
them as it were from a distemper, and applying myself to drinking and
company, soon mastered the return of those fits—for so I called them;
and I had in five or six days got as complete a victory over conscience
as any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled with it could
desire. But I was to have another trial for it still; and Providence,
as in such cases generally it does, resolved to leave me entirely
without excuse; for if I would not take this for a deliverance, the
next was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened wretch among
us would confess both the danger and the mercy of.
The sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind
having been contrary and the weather calm, we had made but little way
since the storm. Here we were obliged to come to an anchor, and here we
lay, the wind continuing contrary—viz. at south-west—for seven or eight
days, during which time a great many ships from Newcastle came into the
same Roads, as the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind
for the river.
We had not, however, rid here so long but we should have tided it up
the river, but that the wind blew too fresh, and after we had lain four
or five days, blew very hard. However, the Roads being reckoned as good
as a harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground-tackle very strong,
our men were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger,
but spent the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but
the eighth day, in the morning, the wind increased, and we had all
hands at work to strike our topmasts, and make everything snug and
close, that the ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea
went very high indeed, and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several
seas, and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which
our master ordered out the sheet-anchor, so that we rode with two
anchors ahead, and the cables veered out to the bitter end.
By this time it blew a terrible storm indeed; and now I began to see
terror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The
master, though vigilant in the business of preserving the ship, yet as
he went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly to
himself say, several times, “Lord be merciful to us! we shall be all
lost! we shall be all undone!” and the like. During these first hurries
I was stupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and
cannot describe my temper: I could ill resume the first penitence which
I had so apparently trampled upon and hardened myself against: I
thought the bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be
nothing like the first; but when the master himself came by me, as I
said just now, and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully
frighted. I got up out of my cabin and looked out; but such a dismal
sight I never saw: the sea ran mountains high, and broke upon us every
three or four minutes; when I could look about, I could see nothing but
distress round us; two ships that rode near us, we found, had cut their
masts by the board, being deep laden; and our men cried out that a ship
which rode about a mile ahead of us was foundered. Two more ships,
being driven from their anchors, were run out of the Roads to sea, at
all adventures, and that with not a mast standing. The light ships
fared the best, as not so much labouring in the sea; but two or three
of them drove, and came close by us, running away with only their
spritsail out before the wind.
Towards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship to
let them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to do; but
the boatswain protesting to him that if he did not the ship would
founder, he consented; and when they had cut away the fore-mast, the
main-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged
to cut that away also, and make a clear deck.
Any one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was
but a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a
little. But if I can express at this distance the thoughts I had about
me at that time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon account of
my former convictions, and the having returned from them to the
resolutions I had wickedly taken at first, than I was at death itself;
and these, added to the terror of the storm, put me into such a
condition that I can by no words describe it. But the worst was not
come yet; the storm continued with such fury that the seamen themselves
acknowledged they had never seen a worse. We had a good ship, but she
was deep laden, and wallowed in the sea, so that the seamen every now
and then cried out she would founder. It was my advantage in one
respect, that I did not know what they meant by _founder_ till I
inquired. However, the storm was so violent that I saw, what is not
often seen, the master, the boatswain, and some others more sensible
than the rest, at their prayers, and expecting every moment when the
ship would go to the bottom. In the middle of the night, and under all
the rest of our distresses, one of the men that had been down to see
cried out we had sprung a leak; another said there was four feet water
in the hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that word, my
heart, as I thought, died within me: and I fell backwards upon the side
of my bed where I sat, into the cabin. However, the men roused me, and
told me that I, that was able to do nothing before, was as well able to
pump as another; at which I stirred up and went to the pump, and worked
very heartily. While this was doing, the master, seeing some light
colliers, who, not able to ride out the storm were obliged to slip and
run away to sea, and would come near us, ordered to fire a gun as a
signal of distress. I, who knew nothing what they meant, thought the
ship had broken, or some dreadful thing happened. In a word, I was so
surprised that I fell down in a swoon. As this was a time when
everybody had his own life to think of, nobody minded me, or what was
become of me; but another man stepped up to the pump, and thrusting me
aside with his foot, let me lie, thinking I had been dead; and it was a
great while before I came to myself.
We worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent
that the ship would founder; and though the storm began to abate a
little, yet it was not possible she could swim till we might run into
any port; so the master continued firing guns for help; and a light
ship, who had rid it out just ahead of us, ventured a boat out to help
us. It was with the utmost hazard the boat came near us; but it was
impossible for us to get on board, or for the boat to lie near the
ship’s side, till at last the men rowing very heartily, and venturing
their lives to save ours, our men cast them a rope over the stern with
a buoy to it, and then veered it out a great length, which they, after
much labour and hazard, took hold of, and we hauled them close under
our stern, and got all into their boat. It was to no purpose for them
or us, after we were in the boat, to think of reaching their own ship;
so all agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore
as much as we could; and our master promised them, that if the boat was
staved upon shore, he would make it good to their master: so partly
rowing and partly driving, our boat went away to the northward, sloping
towards the shore almost as far as Winterton Ness.
We were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship till we
saw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was meant
by a ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes
to look up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from the moment
that they rather put me into the boat than that I might be said to go
in, my heart was, as it were, dead within me, partly with fright,
partly with horror of mind, and the thoughts of what was yet before me.
While we were in this condition—the men yet labouring at the oar to
bring the boat near the shore—we could see (when, our boat mounting the
waves, we were able to see the shore) a great many people running along
the strand to assist us when we should come near; but we made but slow
way towards the shore; nor were we able to reach the shore till, being
past the lighthouse at Winterton, the shore falls off to the westward
towards Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the violence of the
wind. Here we got in, and though not without much difficulty, got all
safe on shore, and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as