He had been alone on Juan Fernandez for more than four years when one evening, looking out seaward before lying down in his hut, he saw the sails of an English-built vessel which was standing in very near to the shore. Alexander could not resist the sudden and strong desire which he felt, to be once more among his fellow-men, to hear once more the English speech, and feel once more the grasp of a friendly hand. Hurrying down to the beach, he piled and lighted a large bonfire, to carry a message to his fellow-countrymen, but the ship, instead of sailing shoreward, or of putting off a boat at once, tacked and went farther from the island, taking the fire to be the lights of an enemy’s ship at anchor in the bay.
Alexander spent the night in hope and in doubt: he killed some goats and prepared them for food, hoping the next day to entertain some of his countrymen in his island home, and at the first dawn of day he was again on the beach, gazing at the now distant but motionless ship.
Those on board were also keeping an anxious watch, but when morning light showed them that there was no other ship near, the captain determined to send a boat on shore to discover the cause of the strange light which they had seen the night before. As they approached the island they saw a strange figure running to meet them, and by gestures and shouts pointing out the best place for landing. Alexander, with his long beard, his tanned complexion, his goat-skin dress, had lost almost all outward resemblance to a civilized man, and they wondered much who this friendly and solitary savage might be.
But who can describe his joy when he heard once more the speech of his own country, and looked on the faces of his kind. He welcomed his visitors in the best English he could remember, for even his speech was half forgotten, and led them to his hut to partake of the banquet he had prepared.
Yet in the midst of all his joy he could hardly determine to leave his beloved island, so accustomed had he grown to solitude, and to his wild, uncontrolled life. At length the remembrance of his aged parents, and of his friends at home, made him determine to ask a passage in the ship which had touched on his island shore, and the captain, finding how much he had learnt of seamanship and navigation, offered to rate him as mate. And thus Juan Fernandez was left once more in utter solitude, and Selkirk, gazing from the ship’s deck, saw its green hills and pleasant coasts disappear in the distance, as he left the island and all its sad, its sacred, its happy memories forever. He soon grew tired of the society of men, and when not busy about the ship, would always seek to be alone, dreaming of the life which he had left. He found it hard, too, to accustom himself to the salt meat and biscuits which were sailors’ fare, and to the dress and boots in which he must now appear. Soon every other thought was lost in his longing desire to see once more his parents and his home, for the shores of England were in sight. It was on a Sunday morning that the wanderer entered once more his native village, where all seemed quiet and unchanged. He did not turn his steps to his father’s cottage, for his parents, as he well knew, would be at the kirk, and there would he look on their faces once more. Would they recognize, he asked himself, in the strong and bearded man, the youth who had left them years ago for the life of adventure which he loved best? Would they know the fine gentleman in gold lace and embroidery to be their son Alexander, their lost sailor lad. Pondering such thoughts as these, he walked on almost unconsciously. How well he knew every step of his way! In this farmhouse, his sister and her husband used to live; there was the wood where he had so often gathered nuts, or climbed for birds’ nests with his boyish companions; there, its thatched roof more lichen-covered than of old, stood his father’s cottage, at the door of which years ago he had kissed his mother for the last time—ah! was she still alive to welcome the returning wanderer?
Seated in the kirk among unfamiliar faces, his eyes sought at once the well-known corner where, as a boy, he had been used to sit, and with an almost overwhelming rush of thankfulness and joy he saw once more his mother’s face, the same, yet changed, its added wrinkles and silvered hair telling, perhaps, of many tears and long sorrow for her lost sailor son.
There sat his father, too, the portly, respectable-looking elder, in blue cap and coat of homespun tweed. In vain did Alexander seek to join in the psalm or prayer, his looks and thoughts were ever wandering; and he was not alone in this, for the dark eyes of his old mother turned continually with an eager, inquiring gaze to the grand stranger gentleman, strange yet so familiar. Then her eyes were cast down once more on her book, as she tried to give heed to the service, till at last a sudden smile which lit up Alexander’s face, showed her that she saw before her the son for whom she had longed and prayed, whom no doubt she had before this counted as among the dead. In her sudden joy the old woman forgot all else, and rising, rushed towards the place where the returned wanderer was seated.
The whole family, with Alexander in their midst, now made their way out of the kirk, and returned home to talk of the great deliverance which God had given to their lost kinsman.
On this true story of Selkirk was founded the tale of the Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.