JOURNAL.
September 30, 1659. I unhappy Robinson Crusoe, having suffered shipwreck, was driven on this desolate island, which I named the Desolate Island of Despair, my companions being swallowed up in the tempestous ocean. The next day I spent in consideration of my unhappy circumstances, having no prospect but of death, either to be starved with hunger, or devoured with beasts or merciless savages.
Oct. 1. That morning, with great comfort, I beheld the ship drove ashore. Some hopes I had, that when the storm was abated I might be able to get some food and necessaries out of her, which I conceived were not damaged, because the ship did stand upright. At this time I lamented the loss of my companions, and our misfortune in leaving the vessel. When I perceived the ship as it were lay dry, I waded through the sands, then swam aboard, the weather being very rainy, and with scarcely any wind.
To the 14th of this month, my time was employed in making voyages, every tide getting what I could out of the ship. The weather very wet and uncertain.
Oct. 20. My raft and all the goods thereon were overset: yet I recovered most again at low water.
Oct. 25. It blew hard, and rained night and day, when the ship went in pieces, so that nothing was seen of her but the wreck at low water. This day I secured my goods from the inclemency of the weather.
Oct. 26. I wandered to see where I could find a place convenient for my abode. I fixed upon a rock in the evening, marked out a half-moon, intending to erect a wall, fortified with piles, lined within with pieces of cables, and covered with turf.
Nov. 1. I erected my tent under a rock, and took up my lodgings very contentedly in a hammock that night.
Nov. 2. This day I fenced myself in with timber, chests, and boards.