第 一 章 · START IN LIFE

. START IN LIFE

I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,

though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who

settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving

off his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my

mother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that

country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the

usual corruption of words in England, we are now called—nay, we call

ourselves and write our name—Crusoe; and so my companions always called

me.

I had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an

English regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous

Colonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the

Spaniards. What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than

my father or mother knew what became of me.

Being the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head

began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who

was very ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as

house-education and a country free school generally go, and designed me

for the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea;

and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay,

the commands of my father, and against all the entreaties and

persuasions of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be

something fatal in that propensity of nature, tending directly to the

life of misery which was to befall me.

My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel

against what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into

his chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very

warmly with me upon this subject. He asked me what reasons, more than a

mere wandering inclination, I had for leaving father’s house and my

native country, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of

raising my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and

pleasure. He told me it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or

of aspiring, superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon

adventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in

undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were

all either too far above me or too far below me; that mine was the

middle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life,

which he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the

world, the most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries

and hardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of

mankind, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy

of the upper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness

of this state by this one thing—viz. that this was the state of life

which all other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the

miserable consequence of being born to great things, and wished they

had been placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and

the great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this, as the

standard of felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor

riches.

He bade me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of

life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind, but that

the middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so

many vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they

were not subjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of

body or mind, as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and

extravagances on the one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries,

and mean or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distemper upon

themselves by the natural consequences of their way of living; that the

middle station of life was calculated for all kind of virtue and all

kind of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a

middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health,

society, all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were

the blessings attending the middle station of life; that this way men

went silently and smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of

it, not embarrassed with the labours of the hands or of the head, not

sold to a life of slavery for daily bread, nor harassed with perplexed

circumstances, which rob the soul of peace and the body of rest, nor

enraged with the passion of envy, or the secret burning lust of

ambition for great things; but, in easy circumstances, sliding gently

through the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living, without

the bitter; feeling that they are happy, and learning by every day’s

experience to know it more sensibly.

After this he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate

manner, not to play the young man, nor to precipitate myself into

miseries which nature, and the station of life I was born in, seemed to

have provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my

bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly

into the station of life which he had just been recommending to me; and

that if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere

fate or fault that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to

answer for, having thus discharged his duty in warning me against

measures which he knew would be to my hurt; in a word, that as he would

do very kind things for me if I would stay and settle at home as he

directed, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes as to

give me any encouragement to go away; and to close all, he told me I

had my elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same

earnest persuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars,

but could not prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the

army, where he was killed; and though he said he would not cease to

pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this

foolish step, God would not bless me, and I should have leisure

hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when there might

be none to assist in my recovery.

I observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly

prophetic, though I suppose my father did not know it to be so

himself—I say, I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully,

especially when he spoke of my brother who was killed: and that when he

spoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so

moved that he broke off the discourse, and told me his heart was so

full he could say no more to me.

I was sincerely affected with this discourse, and, indeed, who could be

otherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to

settle at home according to my father’s desire. But alas! a few days

wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of my father’s further

importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from

him. However, I did not act quite so hastily as the first heat of my

resolution prompted; but I took my mother at a time when I thought her

a little more pleasant than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts

were so entirely bent upon seeing the world that I should never settle

to anything with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father

had better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I

was now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a

trade or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I did I should never

serve out my time, but I should certainly run away from my master

before my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my

father to let me go one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did

not like it, I would go no more; and I would promise, by a double

diligence, to recover the time that I had lost.

This put my mother into a great passion; she told me she knew it would

be to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he

knew too well what was my interest to give his consent to anything so

much for my hurt; and that she wondered how I could think of any such

thing after the discourse I had had with my father, and such kind and

tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that, in

short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might

depend I should never have their consent to it; that for her part she

would not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have

it to say that my mother was willing when my father was not.

Though my mother refused to move it to my father, yet I heard

afterwards that she reported all the discourse to him, and that my

father, after showing a great concern at it, said to her, with a sigh,

“That boy might be happy if he would stay at home; but if he goes

abroad, he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born: I can

give no consent to it.”

It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in

the meantime, I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling

to business, and frequently expostulated with my father and mother

about their being so positively determined against what they knew my

inclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went

casually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time;

but, I say, being there, and one of my companions being about to sail

to London in his father’s ship, and prompting me to go with them with

the common allurement of seafaring men, that it should cost me nothing

for my passage, I consulted neither father nor mother any more, nor so

much as sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as they

might, without asking God’s blessing or my father’s, without any

consideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God

knows, on the 1st of September 1651, I went on board a ship bound for

London. Never any young adventurer’s misfortunes, I believe, began

sooner, or continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner out of

the Humber than the wind began to blow and the sea to rise in a most

frightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before, I was most

inexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind. I began now seriously

to reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the

judgment of Heaven for my wicked leaving my father’s house, and

abandoning my duty. All the good counsels of my parents, my father’s

tears and my mother’s entreaties, came now fresh into my mind; and my

conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to which it

has since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and the breach of

my duty to God and my father.

All this while the storm increased, and the sea went very high, though

nothing like what I have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a

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

unfortunate men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the

magistrates of the town, who assigned us good quarters, as by

particular merchants and owners of ships, and had money given us

sufficient to carry us either to London or back to Hull as we thought

fit.

Had I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home,

I had been happy, and my father, as in our blessed Saviour’s parable,

had even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship I went

away in was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great while before he

had any assurances that I was not drowned.

But my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could

resist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my

more composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know

not what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling

decree, that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own

destruction, even though it be before us, and that we rush upon it with

our eyes open. Certainly, nothing but some such decreed unavoidable

misery, which it was impossible for me to escape, could have pushed me

forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most retired

thoughts, and against two such visible instructions as I had met with

in my first attempt.

My comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the

master’s son, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to

me after we were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for

we were separated in the town to several quarters; I say, the first

time he saw me, it appeared his tone was altered; and, looking very

melancholy, and shaking his head, he asked me how I did, and telling

his father who I was, and how I had come this voyage only for a trial,

in order to go further abroad, his father, turning to me with a very

grave and concerned tone “Young man,” says he, “you ought never to go

to sea any more; you ought to take this for a plain and visible token

that you are not to be a seafaring man.” “Why, sir,” said I, “will you

go to sea no more?” “That is another case,” said he; “it is my calling,

and therefore my duty; but as you made this voyage on trial, you see

what a taste Heaven has given you of what you are to expect if you

persist. Perhaps this has all befallen us on your account, like Jonah

in the ship of Tarshish. Pray,” continues he, “what are you; and on

what account did you go to sea?” Upon that I told him some of my story;

at the end of which he burst out into a strange kind of passion: “What

had I done,” says he, “that such an unhappy wretch should come into my

ship? I would not set my foot in the same ship with thee again for a

thousand pounds.” This indeed was, as I said, an excursion of his

spirits, which were yet agitated by the sense of his loss, and was

farther than he could have authority to go. However, he afterwards

talked very gravely to me, exhorting me to go back to my father, and

not tempt Providence to my ruin, telling me I might see a visible hand

of Heaven against me. “And, young man,” said he, “depend upon it, if

you do not go back, wherever you go, you will meet with nothing but

disasters and disappointments, till your father’s words are fulfilled

upon you.”

We parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no

more; which way he went I knew not. As for me, having some money in my

pocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the

road, had many struggles with myself what course of life I should take,

and whether I should go home or to sea.

As to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my

thoughts, and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at

among the neighbours, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and

mother only, but even everybody else; from whence I have since often

observed, how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind

is, especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in

such cases—viz. that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed

to repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be

esteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make

them be esteemed wise men.

In this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain what

measures to take, and what course of life to lead. An irresistible

reluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed away a while, the

remembrance of the distress I had been in wore off, and as that abated,

the little motion I had in my desires to return wore off with it, till

at last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for a

voyage.