(Continuing from Part 59)
After the death of my wife, I found that my old desire to travel had returned.
For some years, I had enjoyed a settled life in England. I had married, raised a family, and learned to appreciate the comforts of home.
My wife had given me happiness, and her death was a heavy loss.
I had three children, two sons and a daughter. They were dear to me, and I wished to see them provided for.
Yet I could not forget the sea.
I had spent so much of my life in foreign countries that England sometimes seemed strange to me, even though it was my birthplace.
I remembered my father’s advice and knew how much suffering I might have avoided if I had followed it.
But knowing this did not entirely cure my restless nature.
I had already crossed the ocean many times. I had been enslaved, rescued, shipwrecked, and left alone on an island for more than twenty-eight years.
After all these dangers, I ought to have been satisfied with a peaceful life.
Still, my thoughts returned to distant shores.
Above all, I wondered what had happened to my island.
When I departed, I had left five English sailors there. I had shown them my fields, my goats, my houses, and the stores of food and tools that I had collected.
I had also told them about the Spaniard and Friday’s father, who had gone to bring back the other Europeans from the mainland.
Those men had not returned before I sailed away.
I had warned the Englishmen to expect them and had given instructions for their reception.
But I had no certain knowledge of what followed.
Had the Spaniard returned safely?
Had the English sailors welcomed the newcomers?
Had they worked together, or had disagreements divided them?
I could only imagine their lives.
Sometimes I pictured them building new houses and planting larger fields.
At other times, I feared that they had wasted their supplies or quarreled among themselves.
I remembered how difficult it had been to survive when I first arrived.
Even with tools, food, and shelter, careless people might soon find themselves in great trouble.
I wished to know whether the settlement had succeeded.
The island had once seemed a prison to me. Now I thought of it almost as a place belonging to my own history.
I had spent my strongest years there.
Every path, every field, and every shelter had been made familiar by my labor.
I had learned to grow food, tame animals, make furniture, and protect myself.
I had also learned to live with fear and loneliness.
It was strange that a place I had once longed to escape should now draw my thoughts so strongly.
My nephew, who had become a sailor, offered me an opportunity to travel again.
He was preparing for a voyage in a trading ship, and I considered accompanying him.
I did not need the profits of the journey.
My property had been settled, and I had enough money to support myself.
I had sold my interest in the Brazilian plantation and arranged my affairs so that I could live comfortably.
But the voyage offered something money could not give me.
It offered a chance to see the island again.
I thought carefully about the proposal.
I knew that I was no longer young.
I knew, too, that the ocean was dangerous and that no amount of experience could guarantee a safe passage.
Yet I had survived so many extraordinary events that I felt drawn once more toward the unknown.
I made the necessary arrangements in England.
I wished to leave my family and property in good order before departing.
I also considered what supplies might be useful if we reached the island.
The people there would need tools, clothing, and other things that could not easily be made in such an isolated place.
I hoped that a visit might improve their condition.
I did not know whether I would find a small settlement, a ruined plantation, or no one at all.
Nevertheless, I was determined to learn the truth.
My nephew agreed that we could visit the island during the voyage.
This made the journey especially attractive to me.
I remembered the day I had first arrived there, exhausted and almost without hope.
I remembered searching the wreck for food and tools.
I remembered my first rough shelter and the fear that wild animals or unknown enemies might attack me.
Later, I had learned to make the island my home.
I had found Friday, and together we had prepared to defend ourselves.
Then came the Spaniard, Friday’s father, and the English captain whose ship had carried us away.
All these events seemed like scenes from another lifetime.
Now I was preparing to return, not as a helpless castaway, but as a free man with wealth and companions.
I could scarcely imagine what I would feel when I saw the familiar shore again.
Would I recognize the place where my first tent had stood?
Would the trees I had planted still be growing?
Would the goats have multiplied?
And would the people I had left behind remember my instructions?
These questions remained unanswered.
I was about to begin another chapter of my life.
I had once believed that my adventures were finished when I reached England.
But I now understood that my desire to travel had not disappeared.
I could only hope that the wisdom gained from my earlier suffering would guide me better this time.
Thus I prepared to sail again, with my nephew as captain and my thoughts fixed upon the island that had shaped so much of my life.
The account of what happened afterward must belong to another part of my story.
The Closing Events of the Original Novel
My nephew’s voyage began in 1694, and I traveled as a private merchant bound for the East Indies.
During that voyage, I did indeed visit my old island.
There I found that the people I had left behind had survived. The Spaniards had joined the settlement, although the inhabitants had experienced quarrels and serious dangers, including attacks from people arriving in canoes.
I learned how they had managed their affairs during my absence and saw what had become of the place where I had lived alone for so many years.
I helped provide for the settlement and later arranged for further supplies, including useful goods, livestock, and people who could help establish a more lasting community.
Thus the island that had once been my lonely prison became the home of others.
My own travels continued beyond that visit, but their full account belongs to another book.