(Continuing from Part 27)
After escaping the dangerous current, I reached the shore with a heart full of gratitude.
Only a few hours earlier, I had believed that I would be carried into the open sea and die.
Now I was standing safely on my island again.
I had often called the island my prison, but during that terrible voyage, I had wanted nothing more than to return to it.
I rested on the ground for some time.
My arms were exhausted from paddling, and my body felt weak from fear and effort.
When I had recovered a little, I looked around.
I had landed on a part of the coast some distance from my main home.
I decided not to attempt another voyage that day.
Instead, I found a sheltered place where I could leave my canoe safely.
I pulled it as far onto the shore as I could and secured it.
Then I gathered my supplies and prepared to travel inland.
I wanted to return to my country shelter in the fertile valley.
The journey would be long, but walking seemed far safer than returning to the sea.
I followed the land carefully, choosing familiar paths whenever possible.
As I walked, I thought about the mistake I had made.
I had allowed curiosity to overcome caution.
I had wanted to explore the coast, but I had not properly considered the dangers of the currents.
If I had been carried only a little farther, I might never have returned.
I promised myself that I would not make another long voyage without a clear reason.
By evening, I was tired and hungry.
I reached my country shelter and entered the enclosure.
Everything was quiet.
The trees I had planted around the fence had grown taller, and the place was becoming more private and pleasant.
I ate a little food and lay down to rest.
I had slept badly during the previous night, and my struggle at sea had left me completely exhausted.
Soon, I fell into a deep sleep.
I do not know how long I slept.
But suddenly, I was awakened by a voice.
“Robin! Robin! Robin Crusoe!”
I opened my eyes.
For a moment, I could not understand what I had heard.
Then the voice spoke again.
“Poor Robin Crusoe! Where are you? Where have you been?”
I was astonished.
For years, I had heard no human voice except my own.
Now someone seemed to be calling my name.
I sat up quickly and looked around.
My heart began beating violently.
Had another person come to the island?
Was someone standing outside my shelter?
I listened carefully.
Then the voice called again.
“Robin Crusoe! Poor Robin Crusoe!”
At last, I recognized it.
It was Poll, my parrot.
The bird had been sitting nearby, watching me sleep.
During the months I had cared for it, I had patiently taught it to repeat several phrases.
Now it was speaking them clearly.
I felt an extraordinary mixture of relief and happiness.
For a moment, I had believed that another human being had found me.
Then I realized that the voice belonged to my faithful bird.
I called Poll toward me.
The parrot came close and continued repeating the words I had taught it.
I laughed aloud.
The sound seemed almost strange to me.
I had been alone for so long that even a bird’s imitation of human speech could fill me with joy.
I stroked Poll gently and spoke to it.
“Poor Poll,” I said. “You are my little companion.”
The bird answered with its familiar cries.
I remained there for some time, enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing a voice.
The experience reminded me how deeply I missed human company.
I had food, shelter, and many useful possessions.
But none of these things could replace conversation with another person.
I could speak to my dog, my cats, and my parrot, but they could not understand my thoughts as another human being might.
Still, I was grateful for their companionship.
The next morning, I prepared to return to my main home.
I left my canoe where it was, safely secured near the coast.
I did not intend to use it again soon.
I traveled through the familiar valley and over the hills.
When I finally reached my main shelter, I felt as though I had returned from a long and dangerous expedition.
I entered my enclosure and examined everything.
My tools, food, and other possessions were safe.
The cave remained dry, and the fence was strong.
I was pleased to be home.
For several days, I did little except rest and attend to small tasks.
I repaired some tools, arranged my supplies, and cared for my animals.
I also spent time reading the Bible.
The experience at sea had reminded me how quickly life could change.
One moment, I had been enjoying a peaceful journey.
The next, I had been struggling desperately to survive.
I reflected on the many dangers I had escaped.
The shipwreck, the earthquake, the fever, and now the powerful current had all threatened my life.
Yet I had survived them.
I began to feel that I should be more grateful for the safety I possessed.
I also thought about the future.
I still wanted to leave the island, but I understood that escape would require careful preparation.
A small canoe was not enough to cross a dangerous sea.
I would need a stronger boat, better knowledge of the currents, and enough supplies for a long journey.
Until I could make such preparations, I decided to remain on land.
I returned to my ordinary routine.
I worked in my fields, gathered food, and improved my shelters.
Poll continued to speak whenever I approached.
Sometimes the bird called my name so suddenly that I turned around before remembering that no other person was there.
I found this amusing.
My animals had become part of my household.
The dog followed me during my walks.
The cats wandered around my shelter.
Poll entertained me with its voice.
I was still alone in the human sense, but I was not entirely without companions.
As the days passed, my fear of the sea gradually became less painful.
But I did not forget the lesson.
The island might be lonely, yet it provided everything necessary for my survival.
I had worked for years to make it safe and comfortable.
I would not risk losing that security through carelessness again.
For the moment, I was content to remain where I was.
And each evening, when I heard Poll calling, “Poor Robin Crusoe,” I smiled and remembered how fortunate I was to be alive.