(Continuing from Part 29)
As the years passed, my life on the island became more comfortable than I had ever expected.
When I first arrived, I had been a frightened survivor with almost nothing.
Now I had a strong shelter, fields of grain, useful tools, and a growing herd of goats.
I still wished to return to the world beyond the sea, but I no longer feared that I would die from hunger.
My greatest improvement was the herd of goats.
I had begun with only a few young animals captured in traps.
At first, they had been frightened of me.
But I had fed them carefully and kept them inside a secure enclosure.
Gradually, they became tame.
They learned to recognize me and no longer ran away when I approached.
As time passed, the females produced young goats.
The herd increased steadily.
Eventually, I had so many animals that I began to worry about keeping them all in one place.
If a fence broke, the entire herd might escape.
I decided that it would be safer to divide the goats into separate groups.
I selected another suitable piece of land and built a second enclosure.
It was a large task.
I had to cut many wooden stakes, carry them across the ground, and place them firmly in the earth.
I also planted branches around parts of the fence.
I hoped that these would grow into living trees and strengthen the enclosure.
When the new pen was ready, I moved some of the goats into it.
This arrangement gave me greater peace of mind.
If one group escaped, I would still have the others.
I continued watching the animals carefully.
I learned which plants they preferred and how much food they needed.
I also discovered that they became easier to manage when I fed them at regular times.
Before long, they would gather around me when I entered the enclosure.
I found this amusing.
Animals that had once fled at the sight of me now came forward expecting food.
My next task was learning to use their milk.
I had seen people milk goats before, but I had never done it myself.
At first, I was clumsy.
The goats moved about, and I spilled much of the milk.
Sometimes I could hardly collect enough to make the effort worthwhile.
But I continued practicing.
Gradually, I learned how to hold the container and milk the animals more efficiently.
Soon, I could obtain a useful quantity each day.
The fresh milk was a wonderful addition to my diet.
For years, I had eaten mostly meat, fruit, and bread when I had enough grain.
Now I could drink milk regularly.
I also wanted to make butter and cheese.
I remembered seeing these foods prepared in England, although I had never paid much attention to the methods.
I had to experiment.
I began by leaving milk in a suitable container and observing how it changed.
Then I tried different ways of separating and preparing it.
Some attempts failed completely.
Others produced food that was unpleasant or spoiled too quickly.
But with patience, I learned to make simple butter and cheese.
They were not as fine as the dairy products I remembered from home.
Nevertheless, I was delighted.
I had produced them entirely through my own labor.
My meals became more varied.
I could eat bread with butter or cheese.
I could cook goat meat and prepare broth.
I also had dried grapes, fresh fruit during the proper seasons, and grain that I had grown myself.
Sometimes I sat down to eat and reflected on the extraordinary changes in my life.
I had once believed that the island offered nothing but suffering.
Now it provided almost everything necessary for my survival.
I also continued making use of goatskins.
I dried and prepared them as carefully as I could.
Some became clothing.
Others were used for bags, coverings, and small household objects.
My goatskin hat and umbrella were especially useful during the hot and rainy seasons.
They looked strange, but appearance mattered very little to me.
There was nobody on the island to admire or criticize my clothing.
I cared only that it protected me.
As my farm developed, I began spending more time near my animals.
I enjoyed watching them feed and move about inside their enclosures.
Their presence made the island feel less empty.
My dog remained a faithful companion, although he was growing older.
My cats also lived around my shelter.
And Poll, my parrot, continued entertaining me with its familiar words.
Sometimes, when I entered my home, Poll called out:
“Poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you?”
I would answer the bird as though it were another person.
The sound of its voice still gave me pleasure.
Yet I could never forget that I was alone.
No animal could truly understand my thoughts.
I could not discuss my hopes, fears, or memories with another human being.
Sometimes I imagined sitting at a table with friends and hearing ordinary conversation.
Such simple pleasures had become more valuable to me than gold.
I often thought about the money I had rescued from the ship.
The coins remained stored among my possessions.
They had almost no use.
I could not buy anything with them.
I could not pay someone to help me.
A handful of grain or a strong wooden tool was worth more to me than a bag of silver.
I had learned to measure wealth by usefulness rather than price.
As I looked over my fields and animals, I sometimes imagined myself as the ruler of a little country.
I owned the land, the shelters, and everything I had built.
My goats were my subjects, and my dog and cats formed part of my household.
The thought amused me.
I had no enemies, no taxes, and no arguments over property.
But I also had no friends, neighbors, or family.
My kingdom was peaceful because it contained only one person.
I continued keeping track of the passing years.
Each September 30 reminded me of the day I had reached the island.
I marked the anniversaries quietly and spent time reading the Bible.
I thanked God for preserving my life.
I also prayed that I might one day return to human society.
By this time, I had lived on the island for many years.
I had become skilled at tasks that once seemed impossible.
I could build fences, grow crops, make pottery, prepare food, and care for animals.
But I still did not know whether I would ever leave.
Sometimes I climbed the hill and looked across the sea.
I searched the horizon for a sail.
The water remained empty.
Then I returned to my farm and continued working.
I had learned that worrying could not change my situation.
For the moment, my duty was to care for the life I had built.
And so I lived quietly, surrounded by my animals and the possessions I had made with my own hands.
I believed that I understood my island well.
But I was soon to discover something that would change the way I thought about it forever.