(Continuing from Part 35)
After discovering the secret cave, I began to feel more secure on my island.
I had hidden some of my gunpowder and weapons inside it, and I knew that I could retreat there if strangers discovered my main shelter.
Nevertheless, I remained cautious.
The terrible remains I had found on the shore were never far from my thoughts. I avoided that part of the island and continued my work quietly.
My goats provided milk and meat. My fields produced grain. I had bread, raisins, and other food stored for the future.
I had almost everything necessary to live, except human company.
Then, one night, an unexpected sound disturbed my sleep.
I was lying inside my shelter when I heard a tremendous noise.
It came from the direction of the sea.
I sat up immediately.
For a moment, I thought it might be thunder.
But the sound was different.
I listened carefully.
Soon, I heard it again.
It was the report of a cannon.
I knew that sound from my years at sea.
Somewhere beyond the shore, a ship was firing its guns.
My heart began beating quickly.
Why would a ship fire a cannon in the middle of the night?
Perhaps it was in danger.
Perhaps it had struck a rock or become trapped in a storm.
The thought filled me with excitement.
For so many years, I had watched the horizon without seeing a vessel that could rescue me.
Now a ship might be close to my island.
I hurried outside and climbed to a place where I could look toward the sea.
The night was dark, and I could see very little.
But after waiting a short time, I noticed a flash of light in the distance.
Then another cannon sounded.
I understood that the ship was probably signaling for help.
I wished desperately that I could answer.
But I had no boat large enough to reach a vessel in dangerous waters.
I could not safely swim such a distance.
I decided to make a signal fire.
I gathered dry wood and carried it to a high place.
Then I lit a large fire.
The flames rose into the darkness.
I hoped that the sailors would see the light and realize that land was nearby.
I remained beside the fire for a long time.
I fed it with more wood whenever the flames began to weaken.
I listened for further cannon shots.
Occasionally, I heard another distant report.
Each sound increased my hope.
Perhaps the sailors would come toward the light.
Perhaps they would send a boat ashore.
Perhaps I would finally speak to another human being.
I imagined how wonderful it would be to hear ordinary conversation again.
I thought about England, my family, and the possibility of returning home.
But the night passed without any boat appearing.
Eventually, the cannon fire stopped.
I did not know what had happened.
Perhaps the ship had escaped danger.
Perhaps it had sailed away.
Or perhaps it had been destroyed.
I remained awake until morning.
When daylight came, I climbed a hill and searched the sea.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then I noticed something far from the shore.
It appeared to be the remains of a ship.
I looked more carefully.
The vessel seemed to have struck dangerous rocks some distance from the island.
Its masts were damaged, and part of the ship was visible above the water.
I felt a mixture of excitement and sorrow.
The ship had not escaped.
It had been wrecked.
I wondered whether anyone had survived.
Perhaps some sailors had reached the shore during the night.
Perhaps others were still trapped aboard.
I searched the beaches and surrounding waters.
But I saw no people.
I called out, although I knew that my voice could not carry across such a great distance.
There was no answer.
I began thinking about how I might reach the wreck.
My small canoe was still available, but I remembered the terrible current that had almost carried me into the open sea.
I did not want to risk my life foolishly.
Yet the ship might contain useful supplies.
More importantly, someone might still be alive.
The possibility troubled me.
I remembered my own shipwreck.
I had been the only survivor, but I had escaped because I managed to reach the shore.
Perhaps another unfortunate sailor was now struggling in the same way.
I wished that I could help.
For some time, I remained on the hill, studying the wreck and the surrounding water.
I tried to judge the direction of the currents.
I also watched for signs of movement.
But nothing changed.
The sea continued breaking against the rocks.
The damaged ship remained motionless.
At last, I returned home to consider what I should do.
I spent much of the day preparing for a possible journey.
I examined my canoe and thought about the safest route.
I also gathered food, fresh water, and weapons.
If I attempted to reach the wreck, I would need to be ready for another dangerous voyage.
That evening, I sat quietly and reflected on the strange event.
For years, I had wished that a ship would come near my island.
Now one had arrived, but it had been destroyed before its passengers could reach safety.
I felt sorrow for the people who might have died.
I also wondered why I had survived my own shipwreck when others had not.
I could find no certain answer.
I remembered the cannon shots echoing across the dark sea.
Those sounds had awakened hopes that I had almost forgotten.
Even though the ship was wrecked, its appearance reminded me that the world beyond my island still existed.
Ships continued sailing across the oceans.
People traveled, traded, and returned to their homes.
Perhaps one day, another vessel would pass nearby.
Perhaps I would finally have a chance to escape.
But first, I wanted to discover whether anyone had survived this disaster.
I decided that I would examine the wreck more closely if the sea allowed it.
I knew the journey might be dangerous.
Still, I could not bear the thought of leaving a living person without help.