Friday knew nothing of sailing, and was astonished to see the boat go so fast, but he quickly learned to handle her quite as well as Robinson could do. The only thing he could not learn was how to steer by compass.
Six-and-twenty years had passed since Robinson came to the island, and though his hope of getting away was now great, he still went on digging and sowing and fencing as usual, and picking and curing his raisins, in case by any chance he should still have to stop where he was.
As the rainy season was nearly due, he made Friday dig near the creek a kind of dock in the sand for the new boat, just deep enough for her to float in; and when the tide was low, they made a dam across the end of the dock to keep the water out. Then they covered the boat over very thickly with boughs of trees; and there she lay, quite dry and snug, till the end of the wet weather, when it was Robinson’s plan to start for the mainland.
A week or two before the dry season again came, Robinson meant to open the dock and get the boat afloat once more. And to be ready in plenty of time he began to lay by a lot of food and other stores for use on the voyage.
One morning, when he was very busy over his work, he told Friday to go down to the beach to see if he could find a turtle. Off went Friday, but before he had been gone many minutes, back he came running in a great hurry, crying out ‘Master! Master! O sorrow! O bad!’
‘What’s the matter, Friday?’ asked Robinson.
‘Over yonder,’ said Friday, pointing to the west, and very much scared; ‘over yonder, one, two, three canoe.’
Robinson cheered him as well as he could.
‘Well, Friday,’ said he, ‘we must fight them. Will you fight?’
‘Yes, Friday shoot,’ he answered, ‘but too much great many come.’