(Continuing from Part 32)
For a long time after finding the footprint, I lived in fear of strangers.
I had strengthened the walls around my home and planted trees to hide the entrance. I had also divided my goats into smaller groups so that I would not lose my entire herd if someone discovered one enclosure.
But I still did not know who had visited the island.
Sometimes I wondered whether the footprint had been left by a single traveler who had come ashore by accident.
At other times, I imagined a large group of dangerous people arriving in canoes.
I had no evidence to support either idea.
The uncertainty troubled me.
I continued working on my farm, but I was much more cautious than before.
Whenever I left my shelter, I carried weapons and watched the surrounding country.
I avoided making large fires because smoke might reveal my position.
I also stopped traveling along open beaches unless I had a good reason.
For nearly two years, I lived with this fear.
During that time, I saw no strangers.
No one attacked my home.
My fields continued producing grain, and my goats increased in number.
Gradually, I began to feel somewhat calmer.
But I never forgot the footprint.
One day, I decided to explore a distant part of the island.
I wanted to examine the coast and learn whether there were any signs of visitors.
I took my gun and other necessary supplies.
Then I traveled carefully toward the western shore.
The journey was quiet.
I saw birds, trees, and familiar animals, but no people.
As I approached the beach, I noticed an area of sand that looked unusual.
At first, I could not understand what I was seeing.
Then I came closer.
There were blackened places where fires had burned.
Nearby lay several bones.
I stopped immediately.
The sight filled me with horror.
I examined the ground and discovered more remains.
Some appeared to be human bones.
I could hardly believe it.
Then I saw several skulls and other terrible evidence.
I understood that people had come to this place and held a violent feast.
From the remains, I believed that they had killed and eaten other human beings.
I had heard stories about such practices during my travels, but I had never expected to discover evidence of them on my own island.
For a moment, I felt physically sick.
I turned away from the remains and stood trembling.
I could not bear to look at the place.
I had imagined that strangers might visit the island, but this discovery was worse than anything I had expected.
I now believed that groups from the mainland sometimes came here in canoes.
Perhaps they brought prisoners captured during wars.
Perhaps they killed those prisoners on the beach and ate their bodies.
I did not know how often they visited.
But the remains showed that they had been here before.
I was filled with anger as well as fear.
I could hardly understand how human beings could treat one another in such a way.
I thought about the people who had suffered and died there.
Then I began imagining what might happen if such visitors discovered me.
I was alone.
I had guns, but my ammunition was limited.
If a large group attacked, I might not be able to defend myself.
I decided that I must leave the beach immediately.
I did not want to remain near the place for another moment.
I returned toward my shelter, taking care not to leave obvious tracks.
As I walked, I repeatedly looked behind me.
I imagined that strangers might be watching from the trees.
But I saw nobody.
When I reached my home, I climbed over the wall and pulled the ladder inside.
Only then did I begin to feel safe.
For several days, I could think of little except the terrible discovery.
The bones and ashes remained clearly in my memory.
I felt anger toward the people who had committed such acts.
At first, I imagined attacking them if they returned.
I thought about hiding near the beach with my guns.
Perhaps I could surprise them and prevent another killing.
But then I began considering the danger.
If I attacked a large group, I might be killed.
Even if I succeeded in killing several people, others might escape and return with more men.
They might search the island until they found my home.
I could lose everything I had built.
Still, my anger was difficult to control.
I began thinking about making a plan.
I knew where the strangers had gathered.
If they returned to the same place, I might be able to approach without being seen.
I could hide among the trees and watch them.
But I did not know how many people might come.
I also did not know whether they carried weapons.
I realized that any attack would be extremely dangerous.
As I considered these questions, another thought troubled me.
What right did I have to punish people whose customs I did not fully understand?
I believed their actions were terrible.
But I knew that different peoples lived according to different laws and traditions.
I had not been attacked by them.
They had not stolen my possessions or threatened my life.
I began wondering whether it was right for me to kill them simply because I hated what they did.
The question was difficult.
I could not approve of their actions.
Yet I also feared becoming a murderer myself.
I remembered that I had once been a prisoner in Africa.
I knew what it meant to be powerless in the hands of others.
The thought of innocent people suffering on the beach filled me with sorrow.
But I also knew that I could not rescue everyone through violence.
I decided that I must think carefully before acting.
For the moment, I would remain hidden.
I would continue strengthening my defenses and protecting my food supplies.
I would watch the coast whenever I could do so safely.
If strangers returned, I would try to learn more about them before making a decision.
The discovery had changed my understanding of the island.
For years, I had believed that I lived in complete isolation.
Now I knew that other people sometimes visited its shores.
The island was not as empty as I had imagined.
And although I still longed for human company, I understood that meeting strangers might bring terrible danger.
I returned to my daily work, but I could no longer feel entirely peaceful.
Whenever I looked toward the distant beach, I remembered the bones and the ashes.
I knew that I might one day face a decision more difficult than any I had made before.