The Man Who Was Robinson Crusoe

by Rick Wilson

  By the time that contact came, on February 2, 1709, he was a different man; indeed, more of an animal than a man. He could barely speak but he could eat from the wild; he wore a self-made goatskin outfit which – along with his overgrown beard and hair – made him smell and look like a mad bear and he was super-humanly fit, the fastest thing on two legs over rocky terrain that any of his rescuers had ever seen ... faster indeed than the mountain goats he had had to chase and kill to feed and clothe himself. Yet he had also mellowed. He now had a finer appreciation of nature’s gifts and had even turned to the God whom he had (according to the Kirk) grossly offended in Scotland in his earlier life.

  His rescuers first had sight of the island at seven in the morning of January 31, 1709, and from his look-out point on a high hillside – to which he climbed every day to scan the ocean – Selkirk first saw the suggestion of dirty white sails a little later in the day. His heart leapt as the darker smudges beneath them slowly became hulls of a familiar shape. He could barely contain his excitement as two frigates came closer and he began to hope, then realise, that they were English – or British as he could now call them – as unbeknown to him, the parliaments of England and Scotland had united to create the United Kingdom two years before. He jumped with joy and ran down the mountainside to greet them.

  But they did not readily approach. They made such cautious progress towards the island that by noon the next day they were still four or five leagues off. It was then that they launched an exploratory pinnace to make for the shore. But it, too, made slow progress and as afternoon turned to evening and darkness fell to make landfall almost impossible, Selkirk saw the boat turning back and frantically built a bonfire among the trees to signal that there was a man awaiting to welcome them on the island.

  He let it burn all night but in the morning they had come no nearer, and he began to wonder about the wisdom of the fire. He was right to as its flickering light had served merely to mystify and confuse the men aboard the English ships, who had assumed – and hoped – that the island was uninhabited. Now they wondered if the light was an enemy’s keep-away signal, perhaps from French ships at anchor in the bay or Spanish sailors camped near the beach.

  The two English ships were the 30-gun Duke and 26-gun Dutchess, well-built frigates under the command of Captain Woodes Rogers and engaged on a privateering exercise similar to the one that had brought Selkirk here, all the way from Kinsale in south-west Ireland. They were a much more promising outfit, but they too were in a bad way. After nine weeks of hard sailing, down the east coast of South America and round the icy Cape Horn, they had been hard hit by scurvy, cold, hunger and exhaustion, with many men ill, three dead, and all of those living desperately in need of rest, clean water and fresh meat.

  With the reappearance of the pinnace at around midnight, and its crew reporting that they had failed to get on shore, Captain Rogers was faced with a dilemma that haunted him all night, and in the morning, convinced the light on shore indicated the presence of an enemy force, he determined ‘to make our ships ready to engage ... we must either fight ‘em or want Water.’ He also knew rest and fresh food were essential for the very survival of the privateering mission of which he was in overall command, ‘for we have a great many Men down with Cold, and some with Scurvy.’

  By dawn, he had decided to go ahead with his original plan to land on the island, but with two comforting factors now in play: broad daylight and battle-primed cannon. The Duke and Dutchess were set for action, with as many guns as possible pointing toward the island. And despite their fears, the tired and sick English sailors also loaded their muskets and prepared for hand-to-hand action, as they assumed they must either fight whoever was behind the strange light or forego their urgently required refreshments.

  The Dutchess even raised a French ensign but on seeing no enemy vessel in the light of the morning of February 2, the Duke’s Captain Rogers was still convinced that they had company. ‘We guessed there had been Ships there but that they were gone on sight of us,’ he wrote later. There was nothing for it but to flush them out. At about noon Captain Rogers again sent a pinnace shorewards – this time with eight well-armed men – to try to identify the enemy and assess its strength or at least to establish the cause of the fire.

  The men were prepared to be shocked, but what they were confronted with amazed them. From the island, a sleepless, ever-watching and increasingly agitated Selkirk had seen their boat leave the Duke and so, before the crewmen reached the shore, they first heard, then saw, this strange hairy creature running towards them, then shouting out incomprehensible words of joy and dancing up and down the beach. In his hand he had a piece of white linen tied on a small pole as a flag to attract their attention, and – to recount from John Howell’s 1829 telling of this poignant moment – ‘at length he heard them call to him, inquiring for a good place to land, which he pointed out, and, flying as swift as a deer towards it, arrived first, where he stood ready to receive them as they stepped on shore. He embraced them by turns; but his joy was too great for utterance, while their astonishment at his uncouth appearance struck them dumb.

  ‘He had at this time his last shirt upon his back; his feet and legs were bare, his thighs and body covered with the skins of wild animals. His beard, which had not been shaved for four years and four months, was of a great length, while a rough goat’s-skin cap covered his head. He appeared to them as wild as the original owners of the skins which he wore.’

  The men were not struck dumb for long, however – though Selkirk was, to a considerable degree. As they fired questions at him – who was he, how long had he been there, how had he survived? – he seemed able only to form one word, ‘marooned’, which was in any way intelligible to them. His voice and vocabulary had been so out of practice that speaking normally seemed no longer possible. In the absence of conversational partners other than goats and cats, he tended to speak in part-words, apparently having forgotten the complete versions.

  But he managed to communicate with the help of hand gestures. He offered them some goat’s meat he had cooked to welcome them – which most of them tucked into with great gusto – and ‘at length he invited them to his hut; but its access was so very difficult and intricate that only one man [chief lieutenant Robert Frye] accompanied him over the rocks which led to it.’

  What Frye saw – after a trek of about two miles through thick undergrowth that only he among the crew was fit enough to manage – intrigued him. On a flat, elevated but sheltered point they came upon the castaway’s main living hut, a rough basic structure of tree branches covered over with local grass and lined with goatskins. Despite its simplicity and few furnishings – a makeshift table and a cat-strewn bed with some rough bedding, a sea chest, a crude knife, some navigational instruments and a tiny library – the interior seemed cosy and homely. There was also a cooking pot, although that may have rightly belonged in the second, smaller hut shown to Frye, which Selkirk said was his kitchen.

  Alexander entertained the officer in the best manner he could and made ready more roasted goat’s flesh for the refreshment of the sailors who were awaiting his reappearance on the beach – and for those on the big ships who didn’t yet know what was going on. He presumed, as did Frye, that he would be taken aboard one of them later and ...

  And what? Suddenly the overjoyed castaway was having second thoughts about returning to the modern world. And in his semi-fictional dramatisation of the story – The Monarch of Juan Fernandez, published in 1967 – author Martin Ballard imagined that moment of ambivalence ...

  Wandering in and out of the huts and everywhere round about were goats and still more cats. In the centre of the clearing rose the smoke from the fire. The Lieutenant felt a hand grasp his arm and pull him towards a tree. A long brown finger pointed to some lines dug into the bark.

  ‘Fo’ yea’ an’ fo mon’s,’ said the man.

  ‘You have lived here for four years and four months?’ asked Frye. The man nodded and pointed higher u
p the tree trunk.

  There was the name ‘Alexander Selkirk’ dug into the bark and under it was the date, September 1704.

  ‘That is your name: Alexander Selkirk?’ asked the Lieutenant. The man beamed and nodded more violently than ever.

  ‘You’ll certainly be pleased to get away with us. I don’t know how you’ve survived for so long. It must be dreadful having to live like this.’

  Frye suddenly realised that he had said the wrong thing. The man’s face lost its flush of happiness ... Was he touchy about his camp? Frye felt that he could understand someone living like this because he had to, but surely no-one could actually enjoy it – all the same, if the man had lived in the place for four years he probably had some sort of affection for it.

  ‘It’s a good camp,’ Frye said reassuringly. ‘You are quite a builder and you have plenty of company.’

  He smiled at Selkirk who was absent-mindedly caressing one of his cats.

  ‘Ma ca’s,’ Alexander stammered. ‘Keep awa t’ rats.’

  You’ll be sorry to say goodbye to them, I expect.’

  Din’ ken, I mi’ stay.’

  You ...’ Frye could not believe his ears.

  ‘I mi’ stay here. It’s a goo’ life. Why sho’ I lea’?’

  Despite the fact that Selkirk never seemed to be able to finish a word properly, his meaning was crystal clear.

  We can’t leave you,’ protested Frye. I’ll tell you what to do. Come aboard the Duke. Meet Captain Rogers; he’s a good man. Then if you want to come back to live here when we sail away I promise that we will not keep you against your will.’

  The man was still muttering ‘Din’ ken’ several minutes later as they went down the hill and rejoined the others, but he made no objection when they led him into the boat. He sat upright in the stern as the sailors took the oars and rowed out to sea.

  As the pinnace – bearing gifts of goat meat and rattling crayfish – drew near the Duke, he was conscious of the ship’s rail being lined with curious eyes, and suddenly acutely conscious of his strange appearance. But he needn’t have worried. The crew’s curiousity was matched by more kindness than would normally be expected from a bunch of wild buccaneers. And if his disagreement with, and abandonment by, Captain Stradling all those years before was a stroke of ill luck, he was soon to discover that his luck had now changed wondrously for the better.

  One of the faces looking down from the Duke was her pilot who, by a remarkable coincidence, was a famous if faded ancient mariner called William Dampier who had been the leader of the other ship in Selkirk’s first ill-fated expedition. And despite his having had some differences with Selkirk as well, Dampier warmly recommended Selkirk as ‘a very fine sailor’ to the Duke’s Captain Rogers. The captain’s uptake of that was to represent a dramatic enchancement of Selkirk’s career.

  And not only that. The young Scot’s personal fortunes were to be even more enhanced – quite literally – by his inclusion on this particular privateeering mission. As he himself might have put it ...

  Now an Old Man acting as Pilot aboard the Duke, Dampier explain’d to me Their Mission; that this was his final Privateering Expedition to the South Seas afore Retiring, and that the Moneys were put Forward by some Gentlemen of Bristol and the West Country giv’n Heart by the Government’s Abolishment of Taxes upon the Profits from such Ventures.

  Having known of my Differences with Stradling on the Cinque Ports, some of which he owned he shared, he claim’d non the less to admire my Seamanship and Navigation Skills and Privateering Experience, and did warmly commend me to Captain Woodes Rogers; and afore I had fully made my Reengagement with the World and at least become again Accustom’d to the manners and food of Civilis’d Folk, I found my Self with the Responsibility of Mate upon the Duke, being the sister ship of the Dutchess on this Expedition.

  In Immeasureable Contrast to my Previous Voyage, here was I among Men, and with a Plan, which were well worthy of Respect. Aye, and more there was to impress me. I was inform’d that thus did I qualify for a considerable Share of the Plunder, one-third of which should be allocated to the Crew in Portions according to Rank, and soon had my Thoughts turned from Simple Joys of Island Life to Sore Temptations of Wealth; though I cannot deny that at Times I did sorely bewail my Return to the World.

  But first, there was his rescue and return to the sea and society to be seen to. Two of the senior mariners aboard the big ships later recorded the almost-theatrical – and certainly unforgettably dramatic – moment of Selkirk’s arrival aboard the Duke. One was Second Captain Edward Cooke of the Dutchess whose account – given in his book Voyage to the South Sea – was rather fleeting. He covered the event in little more than a few sentences, describing the figure of Selkirk as being ‘cloath’d in a Goat’s Skin jacket, Breeches, and Cap, sew’d together with Thongs of the same.’

  But it is the on-the-spot account of Captain Rogers – from his book A Cruising Voyage Round the World – that gives the real flavour of the moment and could be said to be the seminal point of the Robinson Crusoe story. For the captain’s tale would have been widely read by many interested parties in England who no doubt included the journalist-playwright Richard Steele. Steele later interviewed Selkirk for his magazine The Englishman – a feature that in turn is confidently said to have inspired Daniel Defoe to do likewise as a real-life basis for his famous work of fiction.

  So Woodes Rogers and Richard Steele are important names to remember when we talk about the genesis of the Robinson Crusoe story. In any event, as each of their accounts is fascinating in its own right and needs no modern commentary to embellish its essential sense of period and drama, I yield without apology to these two great gentlemen for their contemporary evocation of that historic moment ...

  WOODES ROGERS

  A Cruising Voyage round the World

  1712

  Febr. 2, 1709: Immediately our Pinnace return’d from the shore, and brought abundance of Craw-fish, with a Man cloth’d in Goat-Skins, who look’d wilder than the first Owners of them. He had been on the Island four Years and four Months, being left there by Capt. Stradling in the Cinque-Ports; his Name was Alexander Selkirk a Scotch Man, who had been Master of the Cinque-Ports, a Ship that came here last with Capt. Dampier, who told me that this was the best Man in her; so I immediately agreed with him to be a Mate on board our Ship. ‘Twas he that made the Fire last night when he saw our Ships, which he judg’d to be English. During his stay here, he saw several Ships pass by, but only two came in to anchor. As he went to view them, he found ‘em to be Spaniards, and retir’d from ‘em; upon which they shot at him. Had they been French, he would have submitted; but chose to risque his dying alone on the Island, rather than fall into the hands of the Spaniards in these parts, because he apprehended they would murder him, or make a Slave of him in the Mines, for he fear’d they would spare no Stranger that might be capable of discovering the South-Sea. The Spaniards had landed, before he knew what they were, and they came so near him that he had much ado to escape; for they not only shot at him but pursu’d him into the Woods, where he climb’d to the top of a Tree, at the foot of which they made water, and kill’d several Goats just by, but went off again without discovering him. He told us that he was born at Largo in the County of Fife in Scotland, and was bred a Sailor from his Youth. The reason of his being left here was a difference betwixt him and his Captain; which, together with the Ships being leaky, made him willing rather to stay here, than go along with him at first; and when he was at last willing, the Captain would not receive him. He had been in the Island before to wood and water, when two of the Ships Company were left upon it for six Months till the Ship return’d, being chas’d thence by two French South-Sea Ships.

  He had with him his Clothes and Bedding, with a Firelock, some Powder, Bullets, and Tobacco, a Hatchet, a Knife, a Kettle, a Bible, some practical Pieces, and his Mathematical Instruments and Books. He diverted and provided for himself as well as he could; but for the first eight m
onths had much ado to bear up against Melancholy, and the Terror of being left alone in such a desolate place. He built two Hutts with Piemento Trees, cover’d them with long Grass, and lin’d them with the Skins of Goats, which he kill’d with his Gun as he wanted, so long as his Powder lasted, which was but a pound; and that being near spent, he got fire by rubbing two sticks of Piemento Wood together upon his knee. In the lesser Hutt, at some distance from the other, he dress’d his Victuals, and in the larger he slept, and employ’d himself in reading, singing Psalms, and praying; so that he said he was a better Christian while in this Solitude than ever he was before, or than, he was afraid, he should ever be again. At first he never eat any thing till Hunger constrain’d him, partly for grief and partly for want of Bread and Salt; nor did he go to bed till he could watch no longer: the Piemento Wood, which burnt very clear, serv’d him both for Firing and Candle, and refresh’d him with its fragrant Smell.

  He might have had Fish enough, but could not eat ‘em for want of Salt, because they occasion’d a Looseness; except Crawfish, which are there as large as our Lobsters, and very good: These he sometimes boil’d, and at other times broil’d, as he did his Goats Flesh, of which he made very good Broth, for they are not so rank as ours: he kept an Account of 500 that he kill’d while there, and caught as many more, which he mark’d on the Ear and let go. When his Powder fail’d, he took them by speed of foot; for his way of living and continual Exercise of walking and running, clear’d him of all gross Humours, so that he ran with wonderful Swiftness thro the Woods and up the Rocks and Hills, as we perceiv’d when we employ’d him to catch Goats for us. We had a Bull-Dog, which we sent with several of our nimblest Runners, to help him in catching Goats; but he distane’d and tir’d both the Dog and the Men, catch’d the Goats, and brought ‘em to us on his back. He told us that his Agility in pursuing a Goat had once like to have cost him his Life; he pursu’d it with so much Eagerness that he catch’d hold of it on the brink of a Precipice, of which he was not aware, the Bushes having hid it from him; so that he fell with the Goat down the said Precipice a great height, and was so stun’d and bruis’d with the Fall, that he narrowly escap’d with his Life, and when he came to his Senses, found the Goat dead under him. He lay there about 24 hours, and was scarce able to crawl to his Hutt, which was about a mile distant, or to stir abroad again in ten days.