The Eerie Adventures of the Lycanthrope Robinson Crusoe

In this agony of mind I made many vows and resolutions. If it would please God here to spare my life 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 liv’d. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle station of life. How easy, how comfortably he had liv'd all his days and nights, and never had been exposed to tempests at sea or troubles on shore. I resolv’d I would, like a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.

 

But the next day, as the wind was abated and the sea calmer, I began to be a little inured to it. The sun went down clear and rose so the next morning. 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, yet could be so calm and so pleasant in a little time after.

 

And now my companion, Jakob, who had indeed enticed me away, came to me and said, "Well, Bob," clapping me on the shoulder, "how do you do after it? I warrant you were frightened, wa'n't you, last night, when it blew but a cap-full of wind?"

 

"A cap-full do you call it?” said I. "It was a terrible storm."

 

"A storm, you fool," replied 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. Do you see what charming weather it is now?"

 

To make short this sad part of my story, we went the old way of all sailors. The punch was made, I was made drunk with it, and in one night's wickedness I drowned all my repentance and all my resolutions for my future. I had, in five or six days, got as complete a victory over conscience as any young fellow who resolv’d not to be troubled with it could desire.

 

But I was to have another trial for it still, and Providence resolv’d 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.

 

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 anchor and here we lay, the wind continuing contrary for seven or eight days, during which a great many ships from Newcastle came into the same roads, as it was the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind for the River.

 

We had not, however, rid here so long but the wind blew too fresh, and after we had lain four or five days, blew very hard. However, the Roads being reckon’d as good as a harbour, and our ground tackle very strong, our men were unconcerned. But the eighth day in the morning the wind increased. We had all hands at work to strike our top-masts and make every thing snug and close so that the ship might ride as easy as possible. By noon the sea went very high indeed. Our ship rode forecastle in and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home, upon which our master ordered out the sheet anchor. So we rode with two anchors a-head and the cables veer’d out to the better 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, tho’ 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 say to himself several times, “God, be merciful to us! We shall be all lost. We shall be all undone!” So soft were his words that the Lord's name came to my ears as "Gon," though I knew it was not.

 

During these first hurries I cannot describe my temper. I could ill reassume the first penitence which I had so trampled upon. I thought the bitterness of death had been past, and 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 looked out, but such a dismal sight I never saw.

 

The sea went mountains high and broke upon us every three or four minutes, and in the deep water tween the waves I glimpsed great shapes, like pale eels, each the size and length of a goodly cottage. Our men cried out a ship which rid about a mile a-head of us was overrun by shoggoths, which I took to mean the high waves. Two more ships, being driven from their anchors, were run out of the roads to sea with not a mast standing.

 

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 protested to him 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 her away also and make a clear deck.

 

Peter Clines's books