When I travelled across to the other side of the island, I could see the other
islands, and I said to myself, ‘Perhaps I can get there with a boat. Perhaps I
can get back to England one day.’
So I decided to make
myself a boat. I cut down a big tree and began to make a long hole in it. It was
hard work, but about six months later I had a very fine canoe. Next, I had to
get it down to the sea. How stupid I was! Why didn’t I think before I began
work? Of course, the canoe was too heavy. I couldn’t move it! I pulled and
pushed and tried everything, but it didn’t move. I was very unhappy for a long
time after that. That happened in my fourth year on the island. In my sixth year
I did make myself a smaller canoe, but I did not try to escape in it. The Boat
was too small for a long journey and I did not want to die at sea. The island
was my home now, not my prison, and I was just happy to be alive. A year or two
later I made myself a second canoe on the other side of the island. I also built
myself a second house there and so I had two homes. My life was still busy from
morning to night. There were always things to do or to make. I learnt to make
new clothes for myself from the skins of dead animals. They looked very strange,
it is true, but they kept me dry in the rain. I kept food and tools at both my
houses and also wild goats. There were many goats on the island and I made
fields with high fences to keep them in. They learnt to take food from me, and
soon I had goat’s milk to drink every day. I also worked hard in my
cornfields. And so many years went by.
