The Man Who Was Robinson Crusoe

by Rick Wilson

  Will Warren

  Sam Bury Notie: Publiq

  Having presumably satisfied his lust in the few days he had left before setting sail on his last fateful voyage, would Selkirk have given any thought at all to the abandoned Sophia? Would he have felt the slightest hint of shame? Would he even have suspected he had just been outwitted by a brazen mistress of deception? It would be nice to think that he did and that he might have written ...

  Having taken from the Cradle of us Both, Seatoun of Largo, the young Lass who had provid’d me Great Comfort in the Days of my Return from, and grieving for, my lost Island Paradise, I had ensconc’d her in the high world of London, believing her capable of rising to such Circumstances. However, in the unfolding of Time, it grew Manifest that my bonnie Sophia Bruce was accurs’d with an Abundance of Pure Scotch Modesty yet lack’d the Scotch Adaptability with which I had been in some degree endow’d. Her great Unhappiness in such Situation was match’d by that of Others with her, even by the Fermenting Disappointment that insinuat’d into my Thoughts a certain Laxity with regard to Nuptial Undertakings. Oft did I console her with Assurances as given in the Recognition of Common Law Marriage within Scotch Law through a Simple Promise to One Another, yet she remain’d Untrusting and Afraid; and had indeed Good Reason to be so.

  With the speeding of Events at Plymouth Station, I never paus’d to trouble Myself overmuch to consider the Plight of Sophia until a goodly time had elaps’d with the fading of my Ardour in the face of ‘the Perils and Dangers of the Sea’ aboard the Weymouth, when the Enormity of my Deed at once dawn’d upon me. Although I had not in English Law married my Fifeshire Lass, I had Myself extoll’d to her the virtues of the unwritten Scotch System yet had in the Event taken right Advantage of it to the Furtherance of my own Aspiration to have not one but two Spouses. Were I to be Truthfull to my Proclaim’d Belief in the Scotch Tradition, I was nothing other than a dastardly Bigamist. Aye, and more; I had in my haste to please my new Love, gone so far as to Dispossess poor Sophia of her due Inheritance as written in my first will in her Favour. My Remorse was overwhelming in the Realisation that, should this Voyage see my Demise and so remove the possibility of my Making Amends, her discovery of my Misdemeanours would doubtless be the Death of my Bonnie Scotch Lass.

  Was he capable of such refined feelings? Perhaps. He had certainly seen the piquant irony in the mission of HMS Weymouth, which was to seek out and destroy pirates preying on British ships. As he had been a privateer in his earlier voyages – sanctioned by the government to attack, raid and arrest enemy ships – these were hard, unsentimental men not unlike himself, prepared to take the nearest shilling whoever it belonged to. Thus the King’s shilling was as good as any, and – without delaying any further to celebrate the festive season of 1720 – the Weymouth finally weighed anchor and reluctantly pushed off south into a wild, wintry Atlantic which, despite gradually improving temperatures, was still unforgiving by the time they sought refuge from its strong winds and high seas at the mouth of the River Gambia in March 1721.

  There was to be no rest and recreation there. As if to warn the men of a lot worse to come on this doomed voyage, one man who was trying to adjust the sails was ‘struck overboard’ and drowned; then the ship came aground in sand, at which point, according to its log, ‘by directions of Mr Selkirk the Boates was sent to lay on the sands ... we laid all a-back but the ship stuck fast.’ Indeed, the ship stuck fast for all of four days before the increasingly desperate efforts of the crew finally managed to float it free.

  They could not wait to move on south, hopefully away from their troubles, around the Dark Continent’s western bulge and into the Gulf of Guinea. At the end of May they arrived at the Gold Coast (now Ghana) where the natives did not prove particularly friendly. But despite the villagers’ suspicions of white men who came ashore seeking supplies, slave labour and sexually accommodating women, the Weymouth managed to recruit some black helpers and they were soon desperately needed, for the mosquitoes were everywhere. Barely a month after their arrival, a vicious tropical disease began to spread through the ship striking down those sailors who had been ashore first.

  The sounds of distress emanating from the hammocks below grew louder as the fever and jaundice took its toll. The doomed men vomited, shivered and bled from the eyes and mouth. They dropped like flies and a muster roll of fit men on October 23 amounted to 72. The following day it was down to 57.

  The deaths – for which the most likely cause was yellow fever – were recorded in a matter-of-fact way in the ship’s log, alongside notes on wind direction and position. Alexander Selkirk’s was no different. His ‘last breath’ entry simply reads, ‘at 8pm Mr Alexander Selkirk died.’ It was December 13, 1721, while the ship lay off Ghana’s Cape Coast.

  The great survivor of the solitary life on Juan Fernandez had survived a year of hell aboard a ship of death but his still-impressive physical condition could not prevail against the insidious, invisible enemy. Along with a few fellow victims, he was buried at sea, slipped into the water under a Union Jack, with a few muttered words of blessing from the other men hardly strong enough to speak out their own names. He had seen 45 summers, a ripe old age for a seaman of those hard times, and he had filled them, if not always well, then certainly to the brim of adventure and experience.

  In a way, of course, he was destined for eternal life. For two and a half years earlier, on April 25, 1719, while the Weymouth had languished off Plymouth, Daniel Defoe had produced the first 1000 copies of Robinson Crusoe. It was an instant success and within a year had been reprinted in English three times, translated into three other languages and – touching a unique chord with people as it did – was just beginning a remarkable growth in international popularity to the point where, even today, three centuries later, it is still a bestseller and a household name all over the world.

  Few people have ever disputed that Selkirk’s experiences were the inspiration for that classic tale. But if he knew anything of the immediate success of Defoe’s novel and realised that he was its spark, he had not been fated to enjoy it.

  His was only one of the 180 names of Weymouth crewmen who had fallen to the great scourge; only 100 of the original complement returned home alive after those two hellish years. When their broken ship limped back into port in England, the bad news spread almost as quickly as its fever had. Little time was to elapse before the late Alexander Selkirk’s two women were fighting tooth and nail over his inheritance.

  When she heard of his death, the grieving Sophia came forward to His Majesty’s Navy Office to claim the £35 wages owing to her ‘husband.’ But so, to her astonishment, did another woman. Sophia was stunned with disbelief when Frances Candis (or Selkirk) also claimed to be the Scottish sailor’s widow and also claimed his wages. That was only the start of the Plymouth woman’s list of claims which became increasingly audacious even while she was planning to marry a candle seller named Francis Hall. Together the pair plotted to acquire everything Selkirk had left.

  Shocked as she was, Sophia was naively sure of her position, holding as she did a very comprehensive will, but as the women’s cases and accusations bounced back and forth between their lawyers and on to Canterbury court – each claiming that Selkirk must have been ‘much intoxicated with Liquor’ when he had promised himself to the other – the technical weaknesses of Sophia’s position became ever more plain.

  Each woman produced the will made out by Selkirk in her favour and Sophia proclaimed that her ‘husband’ had not been free to marry anyone else as he had married her on March 4, 1717; but she could not name the place where it had happened nor produce any papers to support her statement. The exlandlady countered with the claim that Selkirk had ‘solemnly declared ... that he was then a Single and unmarryed person, and was very importunate in his courtship.’ She could also name the date and of her marriage and the particular Church of England which hosted it, and produce papers in support of that.

  Despite the more thorough char
acter of Sophia’s will, Selkirk himself had referred to her in it as his ‘loveing friend’ and as a ‘spinster’, while the briefer document in Frances’s favour called the latter his ‘welbeloved wife.’ Also the second will revoked ‘all former and other Wills, Testaments and Deeds of gift by me at any Time heretofore made’; and with scant English legal regard accorded to the old Scottish concept of common-law ‘marriage by cohabitation with habit and repute’, the court said it had little option but to rule Sophia’s will null and void and come out in Frances’s favour.

  There were to be more skirmishes before the women’s war was over, however, such as when Frances applied for probate of ‘her’ will and was challenged by Sophia. The latter was destined to lose out at almost every turn as her enemy’s familiarity with the details of the first will (and its promises to Sophia of ‘all and singular my lands, tenements, out-houses, gardens, yards, orchards, situate, lyeing and being in Largo aforesaid, or in any other place or places’) fired another bout of extraordinary greed.

  Certain now that their ‘worthless rogue’ Alexander Selkirk had actually been worth a great deal, Frances and her new husband went at Sophia like frenzied terriers, determined to take from her every Selkirk item of any value, and even had her arrested for refusing to part with some of his ‘pieces of Gold, four gold rings and other particulars of a Considerable Value ... although she hath been severall times requested in a friendly manner.’

  Unable to raise the £500 bail requested, she ended up in prison, but still they didn’t stop, though the second will had by now been probated. On Sophia’s release, they demanded from her the last few things she still possessed: a silver tobacco box, a gold-headed walking stick, a pair of gold candlesticks, a silver-hilted sword, and various naval books and instruments.

  It is not recorded whether they succeeded, but they probably wrested these from Sophia too. The Largo lass lost everything, yet still Frances wasn’t satisfied. In his 1829 biography of the sailor, John Howell reports that: ‘In the end of the year 1724, or beginning of 1725, twelve years after his elopement with Sophia Bruce, a gay widow by name Frances Candis or Candia came to Largo to claim the property left to him [Selkirk] by his father – the house at the Craigie Well. She produced documents to prove her right ... [and] having proved her marriage and the will, which was dated 12th December, 1720, and also the death of her husband ... her claim was adjusted, and she left Largo in a few days. Neither of his two wives, it should be added, had any children by him, as far as can be learned.’

  She did not stop there. Despite having thus acquired riches beyond all her reasonable expectations, she had yet another money-making ruse up her sleeve. She had obviously heard a story – perhaps a fictional one from the fantasising Selkirk himself? – that the Duke of Hamilton in Scotland was in possession of a journal the sailor had kept while marooned on Juan Fernandez. She doubtless realised how sensational that would be – the original diary of the original Robinson Crusoe – and how valuable it would be as a consequence. So, feigning poverty, she wrote to the duke at the [now demolished] Hamilton Palace in the hope of getting her hands on it; but as far as is known, she got no response and to this day the successive dukes and their researchers have failed to find such a literary treasure in their grand library at Lennoxlove House near Edinburgh. This is what Frances wrote in her petition:

  To his Grace the Duke of Hamilton re:

  The most humble Petition of Frances Selkirk

  That Yr Grace’s Petitionr is the widdow of Alexander Selkirk who was left on the desolate island called Ferdinando where he continued alone four years and four months all which time he kept a journal of his observations as also of the Voyages he made with Capt. Dempiore as also in the Duke which took the Aquaperlea Ship in the South Sea which ship Yr. Petitionr’s husband had in his charge as Commander to bring to England and upon his arrival his late Grace Yr most noble Father then desireing to see the abovesaid journal of Petitionr’s said Husband did leave it with him after which, proceeding again to leave on another Voyage, died in the same and Yr. Grace’s Petitionr being now reduced to very low circumstances is advised that said journal would be of some considerable advantage to her in her personal circumstances and most humbly hopeing that it may have bin reserved safe in the Library of Yr Most Noble Predecessor.

  Therefore Yr. Petitionr most humbly begs that Your Grace in Yr Great goodness would be pleased to condescend to give such directions as thereby your Petitionr may have the said Journall Deliver’d to her.

  Assd Yr Pettionr: as in duty bound for Yr Grace shall every Pray.

  Reduced to very low circumstances? Surely not? And surely nothing compared to the genuine poverty and hardship that was then visited upon her luckless rival in love. Sophia Bruce did not have to feign reduced circumstances when, in the mercilessly cold winter of 1724, she sent also a desperate, begging petition to the Reverend Say in the Parish of Westminster.

  Reverend Sir,

  I being a person much reduced to want, by reason of this hard season, makes me presume to trouble you, which I hope your goodness will not resist to relieve, I being the widow of Mr. Selchrig who was left four years and four months on the island of John Ferinanda; and besides I had three uncles inn Scotland, all ministger, to wit, Mr. Harry Rymer, Mr. James Rymer, and another; therefore depending humbly upon your prudent and wise consideration of my present circumstances, Revd Sir, Your petitioner shall ever pray, Sophia Selchrig

  Whether or not she got a reply is not known. Indeed, nothing more was ever heard of Sophia. She was an orphan and had few relatives apart from the three uncles mentioned in the letter. There is no record of her ever returning to Scotland, and the silence that came after the letter has the pall of death about it. Hers was indeed a sad tale ... and Alexander Selkirk was very much to blame for it.

  If it is a disappointment to the reader to learn that the inspiration for that fine English middle-class hero Robinson Crusoe was such a devil-may-care Scottish ruffian, perhaps a bit of a reality check is required. These were very hard times. To hold your own on the bloody decks of such ships you had to be extremely hardy and not allow too many, if any, finer feelings.

  It is perhaps not surprising that Robinson Crusoe was a fictional creation; the real thing might have been a touch too hard to swallow and any such story based solely on Selkirk’s life certainly wouldn’t have supplied a heart-warming or happy ending.

  Bibliography

  These are the books that have been helpful in researching and writing The Man Who Was Robinson Crusoe. Publishers have not been listed, as some books have had more than one.

  Ballard, Martin, The Monarch of Juan Fernandez, (1967)

  Band, John & Eunson, Eric, Largo, An Illustrated History, (2000)

  Chalmers. Robert, The Picture of Scotland, (1827)

  Collet, Stephen, Relics of Literature, (1823)

  Defoe, Daniel, Robinson Crusoe, (1719)

  Howell, Robert, The Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk, (1829)

  Kraske, Robert, Marooned, (2005)

  Megroz, RL, The Real Robinson Crusoe, (1939)

  Mitchison, Amanda, Alexander Selkirk: The Real Robinson Crusoe, (2001)

  Severin, Tim, Seeking Robinson Crusoe, (2002)

  Simmons, James C, Castaway in Paradise, (1993)

  Suhami, Diana, Selkirk’s Island, (2001)

  Takahashi, Daisuke, In Search of Robinson Crusoe, (1999)

  Wright, Thomas, Life of Daniel Defoe, (1894)

  Index

  Aberdeen, Earl of 48

  Act of Union (1707) 4, 36, 41, 77

  Anderson, Martin ix, 46–7

  Anne, Queen 77, 86, 87, 126, 129

  Arizabella, Joseph 94

  Ashmolean Museum, Oxford 127–8, 129, 131

  Athenaeum 118

  Auchenleck, Reverend John 55

  Baker, David 120–2

  Ballard, Martin 7, 133

  Ballett, John 100

  Batavia, Dutch East Indies 104

  Batchel
or, John 103

  Batchelor(formerly Spanish treasure ship) 101–7

  Beat, James and William 61

  Beginning(formerly Spanish ship) 89–90

  Bell, Margaret 58, 59, 60–1, 135

  Berens, Randolph 127, 130, 131

  Briggs, General 118

  Bristol 32–5, 38, 106, 110, 130

  British Museum 126, 127, 129–30, 131

  Brooke, Gerry 32, 35

  Brown, F. 37

  Bruce, Sophia 141–3, 145–9, 151–2, 154–6, 158

  Bull, Stephen 53n

  Burnett, T. Stuart 48

  Caldwell, Dr David 78–80, 81, 83, 110–12, 124

  Candis, Frances (later Selkirk) 40–1, 149–51, 154–8

  Carlisle Castle 119

  Chambers, Robert 49, 51, 58

  Christie’s auction house, London 125

  Cinque Ports(privateer frigate) x, 1, 2, 3, 10, 11, 21, 64, 65–7, 77, 89

  Cock and Bottle Inn, Bristol 35, 39

  Collett, Stephen 42

  Columbus, Christopher 87

  Connelly, Lieutenant 96, 97

  Cooke, Captain Edward 10, 41–2, 91, 104

  Courtney, Captain Stephen 87, 92

  Cowper, William 70–1, 74

  Credland, Arthur 116, 117

  Cruso, Timothy 42

  Cyrkowicz, Barbara 50

  Dampier, William 1, 2, 9–10, 11, 14, 16, 21, 35, 40, 64, 66–7, 85–6, 92, 93, 103

  Daniel (Damaris), Mrs 36, 37, 39

  Darien expedition (1698) 57

  Defoe, Daniel vii, xii, 1

  Bristol 33–5

  debts 30, 38, 39, 41

  Edinburgh 36

  government spy 36, 41

  meeting with Selkirk 30, 32–42, 106

  opinion of Rogers and Dampier 35, 40

  prolific literary output 30–1, see also Robinson Crusoe

  Dempiore, Captain 41

  Denton, Penny 116

  Dover, Dr Thomas 82, 93, 94, 100, 103

  Dowell’s auction house, Edinburgh 118