Builds a House — The Journal

           September30,1659.—I,poormiserableRobinsonCrusoe,beingshipwrecked,duringadreadfulstorm,intheoffing,cameonshoreinthisdismalunfortunateisland,whichIcalledtheIslandofDespair,alltherestoftheship’scompanybeingdrowned,andmyselfalmostdead. 

           AlltherestofthatdayIspentinafflictingmyselfatthedismalcircumstancesIwasbroughtto,viz.,Ihadneitherfood,house,clothes,weapon,orplacetoflyto; andindespairofanyrelief,sawnothingbutdeathbeforeme; eitherthatIshouldbedevouredbywildbeasts,murderedbysavages,orstarvedtodeathforwantoffood. Attheapproachofnight,Isleptinatreeforfearofwildcreatures,butsleptsoundly,thoughitrainedallnight. 

           October1.—InthemorningIsaw,tomygreatsurprise,theshiphadfloatedwiththehightide,andwasdrivenonshoreagainmuchnearertheisland; which,asitwassomecomfortononehand,forseeinghersitupright,andnotbrokentopieces,Ihoped,ifthewindabated,Imightgetonboard,andgetsomefoodandnecessariesoutofherformyrelief; so,ontheotherhand,itrenewedmygriefatthelossofmycomrades,who,Iimagined,ifwehadallstayedonboard,mighthavesavedtheship,oratleastthattheywouldnothavebeenalldrownedastheywere; andthathadthemenbeensaved,wemightperhapshavebuiltusaboatoutoftheruinsoftheship,tohavecarriedustosomeotherpartoftheworld. Ispentgreatpartofthisdayinperplexingmyselfonthesethings; butatlengthseeingtheshipalmostdry,IwentuponthesandasnearasIcould,andthenswamonboard; thisdayalsoitcontinuedraining,thoughwithnowindatall.