What he said worried me very much; because if he didn’t know his own name, or where he was, he must be crazy still. I had half a mind to tie his hands and feet together again, but he was so weak that it didn’t seem to be worth while.
The next time he woke up it was after sleeping about ten hours, and he looked much brighter. I got him something more to eat, and after he had eaten it he began to talk. The first thing he wanted was that I should tell him all about our being shipwrecked.
He listened quietly, and when I had finished he asked me my name. I told him it was Michael Flanagan, though he had generally called me Friday.
“‘I MUST HAVE HAD A BRAIN-FEVER, MICHAEL,’ SAID HE.”
“I must have had a brain-fever, Michael,” said he; “and, so far as I can see, you have saved my life and taken care of me. If we can ever get back to America again you will find out whether I am grateful or not. But please tell me what made you think my name was Crusoe?”
“Because you said so, sir,” I replied. “Don’t you remember how you told me that your grandfather, old Mr. Robinson Crusoe, lived on this island, and how you were bound to do exactly everything that he did?”
“If I was crazy enough to do that, I must have been a nice companion for you. Never mind, though; I’ve got my senses back again now, and as soon as I get stronger we’ll find some way to escape from here.”
“Then wasn’t your grandfather’s name Robinson Crusoe?” asked I. “Are you quite sure, sir?”
“Perfectly sure,” said he. “My grandfather was a sensible old gentleman, who never set his foot on a ship.”