Daniel Defoe "Robinson Crusoe": description, characters, analysis of the work. Interesting facts The fate of Robinson Crusoe and Friday

Having lived alone for a quarter of a century on a desert island, Robinson saves their young captive from cannibals and gives him the name Friday. Their relationship immediately develops like that of a master and servant. Robinson had long dreamed of acquiring a servant. All twenty-five years of loneliness and longing for people have not changed anything in Robinson’s worldview: he does not so much need an intelligent creature as an assistant in the household. The first word Robinson teaches Friday is "Mr."

He must learn this English word before the names of the most necessary items. Robinson does not even try to find out the real name of the savage: for him he is “Friday”, since he was freed from the cannibals and “acquired” by Robinson on this very day.

But Defoe's Robinson probably would not have become a reference book for young people for two and a half centuries if the author had limited himself to depicting a selfish and calculating bourgeois. For the bourgeois enlightener, Defoe is the ideal person. And he strives to bring into this image the most attractive human qualities possible. Cruel colonialists exterminating native tribes, greedy hoarders ready to profit from human blood, are deeply disgusting to Defoe; his Robinson is not like them. Defoe tries to embody in him the ideal for his class, which was still progressive during the Enlightenment; but in essence, this ideal is unattainable for the progressive bourgeoisie of that era, for it carries within itself the dream of a harmonious man and a hymn to physical labor - something that became alien to the bourgeoisie of the 18th century.

Robinson is brave and generous: he risks his life to save people unknown to him - Friday, his father, the captain of the ship. He is a good owner. His relationship with Friday, their conversations develop into true friendship, Robinson begins to appreciate Friday’s natural intelligence and nobility, to value him as a comrade, not a servant. What a lesson Defoe gave to the British colonialists and slave traders by painting the charming image of Friday and this friendship between the virtuous English merchant and the dark-skinned aborigine!

Robinson's religiosity itself is very relative, alien to fanaticism.

Beneath the outward puritanical piety of Robinson and his author lies a very healthy perception of the world, and sometimes even a mocking attitude towards religion. Defoe does not miss the opportunity to pit Robinson's Puritan reasoning against his own practicality or simply a sober view of the world. Even at the beginning of his stay on the island, Robinson sees ears of barley and rice not far from his home. With the rich tropical harvests, they should soon provide him with the bread he so needs. And Robinson falls to his knees, sending up passionate prayers of gratitude for the miracle sent down. But then he remembers that he himself shook out an empty bag of birdseed at this place. “The miracle disappeared, and along with the discovery that all this is the most natural thing, I must admit, my gratitude to providence cooled significantly.” Only an enlightener, the predecessor of Diderot and Voltaire, could write this way.

Another time, in the eighteenth year of his stay on the island, Robinson suddenly sees the footprint of a bare human foot in the sand. With a tinge of mockery, Defoe writes about how his hero comes up with a purely Puritan thought: this is, apparently, the footprint of the devil, who came to the island to tempt Robinson. But, having not yet thought through this hypothesis, Robinson is already rushing to his cave and begins to strengthen it against a possible attack: it is clear to him that savages have appeared on the island.

The debate between Robinson and Friday about religion is interesting, in which the “natural man”, Friday, easily refutes the theological arguments of Robinson, who undertook to convert him to Christianity, and questions the existence of the devil. Friday cannot understand why a good and omnipotent God tolerates the devil. So Defoe (through the mouth of Friday) criticizes one of the main doctrines of Puritanism and finds the most vulnerable place of any religion - the question of the existence of evil.

Robinson himself, having learned from Friday about the tricks of the native priests, compares them with the Catholic (and, if you look at it, with the Anglican) clergy and says that deception is practiced by priests of all religions, without exception.

But Robinson's true charm, the greatness of this image, is manifested in the process of labor that changes nature. This is its universal significance. In Marx's words, "all the relations between Robinson and the things which constitute his self-made wealth are simple and transparent."

Defoe depicts persistent, hard, everyday work in the novel, sometimes leading to insignificant results. Within a year, Robinson manages to cut the stakes and erect a fence around his home; For a long time he has been crafting, without the necessary tools, a table and a chair. Troubles befall Robinson, and he often falls into despair. He experiences terrifying moments when a ship leaves without noticing his signals. And yet, enormous mental strength and willingness to work support Robinson in his incredible life. In this pathos of labor, in this hymn to man, is the guarantee of the immortality of Defoe’s book. That’s why “Robinson” has such educational significance for children. Rousseau called this book the only one that Emil would read in his childhood.

Digital addiction is everywhere. The writer reports the exact amounts paid by Robinson for this or that product, the number of yards of material, the exact sizes of things and the distances between them. - Descriptions of labor processes are replaced by the logical reasoning of the hero himself. At the end of the first part (where Friday appears), the writer tries to solve the problem of dialogue, which was difficult for a novelist of those times, which still occupies an insignificant place in the overall structure of the novel, but still it is a fairly lively dialogue, reflecting the characters of the characters - the calm efficiency and determination of Robinson and the liveliness, spontaneity, and natural intelligence of Friday.

The simplicity and accuracy of the descriptions created the impression of strict truthfulness. The novel was written anonymously, and for readers of that era, its author was Robinson himself. The book was taken as a true account of his stay on a desert island. But where contemporaries saw the accuracy and truthfulness of an eyewitness, we see extraordinary realistic skill.

The saved one thanks and shows his devotion.

Having completed his judgment, he calmly laid the saber at the feet of Robinson, who did not immediately come to his senses after what he saw. The native, crouching over the body of the cannibal killed by the shot, pointed his finger at the wound on his chest and with all his appearance showed great surprise: how could this happen and from what did he die? From thunder or from lightning?

Robinson was not averse to trying to explain to him the effect of firearms, but not now: now it was necessary to quickly bury both dead men so that his fellow tribesmen would not find them near his home.

When this was done, Robinson took the new acquaintance to his home, where he gave him water, fed him and invited the exhausted young man to lie down and rest.

He ate with silent gratitude, drank, and, lying down on the goat skins, a minute later fell into a deep sleep.

The rescued man is perplexed.

Robinson feels sympathy for this young man.

After the rescued native fell asleep, Robinson stood near his bed for quite a long time and looked at him. The young man had pleasant facial features, he was tall and well built. Robinson would not give him more than twenty-five years. Long, straight, blue-black hair framed a round, almost childish face, in which some kind of natural softness was felt.

The native slept for only a short time. After about half an hour, he woke up and ran out of the house into the yard, where Robinson was milking a goat. Again he knelt down, again bowed his head and placed Robinson's foot on it. There was nothing humiliating in this gesture - only gratitude and a promise to become a devoted friend...

Thus began the long life together of Robinson Crusoe and the young native, to whom he gave the name Friday, because it was on this day of the week that he rescued the young man from the hands of the cannibals.

On the very first evening, Robinson decided to explain to him that from now on he would call him exactly that - Friday, and let him call Robinson himself by the word “master”. He also taught him the two shortest words: “yes” and “no.”

The young man walked around completely without clothes, and Robinson had difficulty persuading him to put on trousers just like his own, a sleeveless goatskin vest and a hat, which he, however, hardly wore - it was in his way. And he didn’t immediately get used to the rest of his clothes and put them on only to please his master.

They spent the rest of the day waiting for the attack of the cannibals, but it did not come, and the next morning they both climbed to the top of the hill and saw from there that there was no trace of their enemies: no people, no boats, only the remains of a terrible feast; no one remembered the two warriors who did not return.

Friday is happy with his new outfit.

Later that day, as Robinson and Friday passed by the place where the two were buried, the native youth indicated to Robinson by means of gestures that he proposed to dig them up and eat them. In response, Robinson feigned intense anger and also showed that he felt nauseous and could even vomit just thinking about it. Whether Friday understood what the owner wanted to tell him remained unknown, but, in any case, he no longer insisted on his proposal and obediently trudged after Robinson. And he swore to himself that he would certainly wean this nice guy from the terrible custom of his tribe.

Then they went down to the shore, where they collected human remains, lit a fire and burned them, turning everything that was possible into ashes.

Every day Robinson became more and more convinced that Friday was an honest and devoted fellow by nature, and also very smart, and that he loved his new master like a child's father. Robinson, in turn, also took a liking to him and happily tried to teach the young man everything he could: how to use tools, weapons, a spoon, a plate, a fork, and even English language.

Robinson and Friday burn the remains of the cannibal feast.

Friday studied obediently and quickly mastered things he had never known before. earlier ways and methods of existence: dressing and undressing independently, eating from a plate, washing dishes after yourself. And also skillfully handle firearms. Robinson began to see in him not only a devoted servant, but also a friend and completely ceased to fear him. Friday's presence allowed Robinson to get rid of the feeling of loneliness, and if not for the threat of the reappearance of cannibals, he was almost ready to spend the rest of his life on the island.

Friday's English improved every day, and soon he could, although not without difficulty, answer many of Robinson's questions, who gradually managed to find out that Friday had already been with his fellow tribesmen on this island more than once, so he knew a lot about the quirks and the vagaries of sea currents near it.

Robinson teaches Friday English and shows him what the word "tree" means.

Later, Robinson was able to understand from his confused explanations that not far from their island there was a strong current, which in the morning tended in one direction and was strengthened by a tailwind, and in the evening - in the other. Even later, Robinson, with the help of sea charts, figured out that the current was nothing more than a continuation of the mighty South American Orinoco River, which flows into the sea not too far from their island. And that mysterious strip of land that he sees in clear weather in the west is most likely a large island called Trinidad. All this information increased the hope of finally breaking out of captivity, in which he had been by this time for twenty-seven years.

Satisfying Robinson's curiosity, Friday tried to tell him about his tribe, also cannibalistic; about the places where they live, about the constant wars they wage with their neighbors. He said that far, far away, in that country “where the sun sets,” which meant to the west of his native places, there live “people just like you, master,” fair-haired and bearded people, who, as he heard, They killed many, many other people, but they didn’t eat them. As Robinson guessed, he was apparently talking about the Spaniards, who came to South America and those who conquered it.

Friday tells Robinson about his country.

Robinson asked Friday: what does he think, is it possible to sail from their island to those white bearded people, and the young man answered: “Yes, if on two boats.”

Robinson was not immediately able to understand what his interlocutor wanted to say. It turned out that “two boats” simply meant one large ship.

When Friday began to understand English even more - and he was, as already said, a capable student - Robinson told him about his own life, about how he got to this island, how he lived before that in England and then in Brazil; that he and other white people have one God in whom they believe.

Robinson showed Friday a half-rotten lifeboat from their sunken ship washed ashore, which he looked at very carefully and finally said:

Robinson shows Friday a half-rotten boat from his ship.

Imagine my amazement when, leaving the fortress one day, I saw below, near the shore (that is, not where I expected to see them), five or six Indian pies. The pies were empty. There were no people visible. They must have gone ashore and disappeared somewhere.

Since I knew that each pirogue usually seats six people, or even more, I confess that I was very confused. I never expected that I would have to fight so many enemies.

“There are at least twenty of them, and perhaps there will be thirty. How can I defeat them alone!” – I thought with concern.

I was indecisive and didn’t know what to do, but I still sat down in my fortress and prepared for battle.

It was quiet all around. I listened for a long time to see if I could hear screams or songs of savages from the other side. Finally I got tired of waiting. I left my guns under the stairs and climbed to the top of the hill.

It was dangerous to stick your head out. I hid behind this peak and began to look through the telescope. The savages now returned to their boats. There were at least thirty of them. They lit a fire on the shore and, obviously, cooked some food on the fire. I couldn’t see what they were cooking, I only saw that they were dancing around the fire with frantic jumps and gestures, as savages usually dance.

Continuing to look at them through the telescope, I saw that they ran up to the boats, pulled out two people from there and dragged them to the fire. Apparently they intended to kill them.

Until this moment, the unfortunate people must have been lying in the boats, tied hand and foot. One of them was instantly knocked down. He was probably struck on the head with a club or a wooden sword, the usual weapon of savages; Now two or three more pounced on him and got to work: they ripped open his stomach and began to gut him.

Another prisoner stood nearby, awaiting the same fate.

Having taken care of the first victim, his tormentors forgot about him. The prisoner felt free, and he apparently had hope of salvation: he suddenly rushed forward and began to run with incredible speed.

He ran along the sandy shore in the direction where my home was. I admit, I was terribly scared when I noticed that he was running straight towards me. And how could I not be scared: at the first minute it seemed to me that the whole gang rushed to catch up with him. However, I remained at my post and soon saw that only two or three people were chasing the fugitive, and the rest, having run a short space, gradually fell behind and were now walking back to the fire. This gave me my energy back. But I finally calmed down when I saw that the fugitive was far ahead of his enemies: it was clear that if he managed to run at such speed for another half hour, they would by no means catch him.

Those who fled from my fortress were separated by a narrow bay, which I have mentioned more than once - the same one where I landed with my rafts when transporting things from our ship.

“What will this poor guy do,” I thought, “when he reaches the bay? He will have to swim across it, otherwise he will not escape the pursuit.”

But I worried about him in vain: the fugitive, without hesitation, rushed into the water, quickly swam across the bay, climbed out to the other side and, without slowing down, ran on.

Of his three pursuers, only two rushed into the water, and the third did not dare: apparently he did not know how to swim; he stood on the other side, looked after the other two, then turned and slowly walked back.

I noticed with joy that the two savages who were chasing the fugitive swam twice as slow as him.

And then I realized that the time had come to act. My heart caught fire.

“Now or never!” – I said to myself and rushed forward. “Save, save this unfortunate man at any cost!”

Without wasting time, I ran down the stairs to the foot of the mountain, grabbed the guns left there, then with the same speed climbed the mountain again, went down the other side and ran diagonally straight to the sea to stop the savages.

Since I ran down the hillside by the shortest route, I soon found myself between the fugitive and his pursuers. He continued to run without looking back and did not notice me.

I shouted to him:

He looked around and, it seems, at first he was even more frightened of me than of his pursuers.

I made a sign with my hand for him to come closer to me, and I walked at a slow pace towards the two fleeing savages. When the one in front caught up with me, I suddenly rushed at him and knocked him down with the butt of my gun. I was afraid to shoot so as not to alarm the other savages, although they were far away and could hardly hear my shot, and even if they heard it, they still would not have guessed what it was.

When one of the runners fell, the other stopped, apparently frightened.

Meanwhile, I continued to calmly approach. Po, when, coming closer, I noticed that he had a bow and arrow in his hands and that he was aiming at me, I inevitably had to shoot. I took aim, pulled the trigger and killed him in place.

The unfortunate fugitive, despite the fact that I had killed both his enemies (at least so it must have seemed to him), was so frightened by the fire and the roar of the shot that he lost the ability to move; he stood as if nailed to the spot, not knowing what to decide: to run away or stay with me, although he would probably prefer to run away if he could.

I again began to shout to him and make signs for him to come closer. He understood: he took two steps and stopped, then he took a few more steps and again stood rooted to the spot.

Then I noticed that he was trembling all over; the unfortunate man was probably afraid that if he fell into my hands, I would immediately kill him, like those savages.

I again made a sign for him to come closer to me, and generally tried in every possible way to encourage him.

He came closer and closer to me. Every ten or twelve steps he fell to his knees. Apparently he wanted to express his gratitude to me for saving his life.

I smiled affectionately at him and, with the most friendly expression, continued to beckon him with my hand.

Finally the savage came very close. He fell to his knees again, kissed the ground, pressed his forehead to it and, lifting my leg, placed it on his head.

This was supposed to mean that he vowed to be my slave until last day own life.

I picked him up and, with the same gentle, friendly smile, tried to show that he had nothing to fear from me.

I pointed it out to the fugitive:

- Your enemy is still alive, look!

In response, he uttered a few words, and although I did not understand anything, the very sounds of his speech seemed pleasant and sweet to me: after all, in all the twenty-five years of my life on the island, I heard a human voice for the first time!

However, I did not have time to indulge in such thoughts: the cannibal, who had been stunned by me, recovered so much that he was already sitting on the ground, and I noticed that my savage was again beginning to be afraid of him. It was necessary to calm the unfortunate man down. I took aim at his enemy, but then my savage began to show me with signs that I should give him the naked saber hanging from my belt. I handed him the saber. He instantly grabbed it, rushed towards his enemy and with one swing took off his head.

Such art surprised me very much: after all, never in his life had this savage seen any other weapon than wooden swords. Subsequently, I learned that the local savages choose such strong wood for their swords and sharpen them so well that with such a wooden sword you can cut off a head no worse than with a steel one.

After this bloody reprisal with his pursuer, my savage (from now on I will call him my savage) returned to me with a cheerful laugh, holding my saber in one hand, and the head of the murdered man in the other, and, performing in front of me a series of some incomprehensible movements , solemnly laid his head and weapon on the ground next to me.

He saw me shoot one of his enemies, and it amazed him: he could not understand how you could kill a person at such a great distance. He pointed to the dead man and with signs asked permission to run and look at him. I, also with the help of signs, tried to make it clear that I did not forbid him to fulfill this desire, and he immediately ran there. Approaching the corpse, he was dumbfounded and looked at it in amazement for a long time. Then he leaned over him and began to turn him first on one side, then on the other. Seeing the wound, he looked closely at it. The bullet hit the savage right in the heart, and a little blood came out. Internal hemorrhage occurred and death occurred instantly.

Having removed from the dead man his bow and quiver of arrows, my savage ran up to me again.

I immediately turned and walked away, inviting him to follow me. I tried to explain to him by signs that it was impossible to stay here, since those savages who were now on the shore could set off in pursuit of him at any moment.

He also answered me with signs that I should first bury the dead in the sand so that the enemies would not see them if they came running to this place. I expressed my consent (also with the help of signs), and he immediately got to work. With amazing speed, he dug a hole in the sand with his hands so deep that a man could easily fit in it. Then he dragged one of the dead into this hole and covered him with sand; with the other he did exactly the same - in a word, in just a quarter of an hour he buried them both.

After that, I ordered him to follow me, and we set off. We walked for a long time, since I led him not to the fortress, but in a completely different direction - to the farthest part of the island, to my new grotto.

In the grotto I gave him bread, a branch of raisins and some water. He was especially glad for the water, since after running fast he was very thirsty.

When he had regained his strength, I pointed out to him the corner of the cave, where I had an armful of rice straw covered with a blanket, and made him understand by signs that he could camp there for the night.

The poor fellow lay down and instantly fell asleep.

I took the opportunity to get a better look at his appearance.

He was a handsome young man, tall, well-built, his arms and legs were muscular, strong and at the same time extremely graceful; he looked about twenty-six years old. I didn’t notice anything gloomy or fierce in his face; it was a courageous and at the same time gentle and pleasant face, and often an expression of meekness appeared on it, especially when he smiled. His hair was black and long; they fell on the face in straight strands. The forehead is high, open; The skin color is dark brown, very pleasing to the eye. The face is round, the cheeks are full, the nose is small. The mouth is beautiful, the lips are thin, the teeth are even, white as ivory.

He slept for no more than half an hour, or rather, he did not sleep, but dozed, then he jumped to his feet and came out of the cave towards me.

I was right there in the pen, milking my goats. As soon as he saw me, he ran up to me and again fell to the ground before me, expressing by all kinds of signs the most humble gratitude and devotion. Falling face down to the ground, he again placed my foot on his head and, in general, in every way available to him, tried to prove to me his boundless submission and make me understand that from that day on he would serve me all his life.

I understood much of what he wanted to tell me, and tried to convince him that I was completely pleased with him.

From that day I began to teach him the necessary words. First of all, I told him that I would call him Friday (I chose this name for him in memory of the day I saved his life). Then I taught him to say my name, taught him to say “yes” and “no” and explained the meaning of these words.

I brought him milk in a clay jug and showed him how to dip bread in it. He immediately learned all this and began to show me with signs that he liked my treat.

We spent the night in the grotto, but as soon as morning came, I ordered Friday to follow me and led him to my fortress. I explained that I wanted to give him some clothes. He was apparently very happy, since he was completely naked.

When we passed by the place where both savages killed the day before were buried, he pointed out their graves to me and tried in every possible way to explain to me that we should dig up both corpses in order to eat them immediately.

Then I pretended that I was terribly angry, that I was disgusted even to hear about such things, that I started vomiting at the mere thought of it, that I would despise and hate him if he touched the dead. Finally, I made a decisive gesture with my hand, ordering him to move away from the graves; he immediately left with the greatest humility.

After that, he and I climbed the hill, because I wanted to see if there were still savages here.

I took out my telescope and pointed it at the place where I saw them the day before. But there was no trace of them: there was not a single boat on the shore. I had no doubt that the savages left without even bothering to look for their two comrades who remained on the island.

I was, of course, happy about this, but I wanted to collect more accurate information about my uninvited guests. After all, now I was no longer alone, Friday was with me, and this made me much braver, and along with courage curiosity awoke in me.

One of the dead was left with a bow and quiver of arrows. I allowed Friday to take this weapon and from then on he did not part with it, night or day. I soon had to make sure that my savage was a master with a bow and arrow. In addition, I armed him with a saber, gave him one of my guns, and I myself took the other two, and we set off.

When we arrived at the place where the cannibals had feasted yesterday, such a terrible sight met our eyes that my heart sank and my blood froze in my veins.

But Friday remained completely calm: such sights were nothing new to him.

The ground was covered in blood in many places. Large pieces of fried human meat were lying around. The entire shore was strewn with human bones: three skulls, five arms, bones from three or four legs and many other skeletal parts.

Friday told me with the help of signs that the savages brought with them four prisoners: they ate three, and he was the fourth. (Here he poked his finger in the chest.) Of course, I did not understand everything he told me, but I managed to catch something. According to him, a few days ago, the savages, subject to one hostile prince, had a very big battle with the tribe to which he, Friday, belonged. Alien savages won and captured a lot of people. The winners divided the prisoners among themselves and took them to different places to kill and eat, exactly the same as that band of savages did who chose one of the shores of my island as a place for a feast.

I ordered Friday to build a big fire, then collect all the bones, all the pieces of meat, dump them into this fire and burn them.

I noticed that he really wanted to feast on human flesh (and this is not surprising: after all, he was also a cannibal!). But I again showed him with all sorts of signs that the very thought of such an act seemed disgusting to me, and immediately threatened him that I would kill him at the slightest attempt to violate my prohibition.

After that we returned to the fortress, and without delay I began to sheathe my savage.

First of all, I put his pants on. In one of the chests I took from the lost ship, I found a ready-made pair of canvas trousers; they only had to be slightly altered. Then I sewed him a jacket from goat fur, using all my skill to make the jacket better (I was already quite a skilled tailor at that time), and made for him a hat from hare skins, very comfortable and quite beautiful.

Thus, for the first time he was dressed from head to toe and was apparently very pleased that his clothes were no worse than mine.

True, out of habit, he felt awkward in clothes, since he had been naked all his life; His pants especially bothered him. He also complained about the jacket: he said that the sleeves pressed under his arms and rubbed his shoulders. I had to change some things, but little by little he got over it and got used to it.

The next day I began to think about where I should place it.

I wanted to make him more comfortable, but I was still not entirely sure of him and was afraid to put him in my place. I pitched a small tent for him in the free space between the two walls of my fortress, so that he found himself outside the fence of the courtyard where my dwelling stood.

But these precautions turned out to be completely unnecessary. Soon Friday proved to me in practice how selflessly he loves me. I could not help but recognize him as a friend and ceased to be wary of him.

Never has a single person had such a loving, such a faithful and devoted friend. He showed neither irritability nor guile towards me; always helpful and friendly, he was attached to me like a child to his own father. I am convinced that, if necessary, he would gladly sacrifice his life for me.

I was very happy that I finally had a comrade, and promised myself to teach him everything that could benefit him, and above all to teach him to speak the language of my homeland so that he and I could understand each other. Friday turned out to be such a capable student that nothing better could have been desired.

But the most valuable thing about him was that he studied so diligently, listened to me with such joyful readiness, was so happy when he understood what I wanted from him, that it turned out to be a great pleasure for me to give him lessons and talk with him.

Since Friday was with me, my life has become pleasant and easy. If I could consider myself safe from other savages, I really, it seems, without regret, would agree to remain on the island until the end of my days.

It’s a paradox, but “Robinson Crusoe,” which most Soviet people knew thanks to the children’s retelling by Korney Chukovsky, is a completely different book than the one Defoe wrote. And for this book to become completely different, one thing was enough - to remove God from it.

In the retelling, which appeared in 1935, the book not only loses its Christian content, does not just turn into another superficial adventure novel, but also acquires a very clear ideological message: a person can achieve anything on his own, thanks to his mind, with the help of science and technology he can cope with any hopeless situation, and he does not need any God for this.

Although it will become obvious to anyone who reads Defoe’s original text: without constant prayer, without mental communication with God (even such a short one, in a Protestant format, without worship, without church sacraments) Robinson would quickly go crazy. But with God, man is not alone even in the most extreme circumstances. Moreover, this is not just the author’s idea - it is confirmed real life. After all

Robinson's prototype, Alexander Selkirk, who spent four years on a desert island, actually turned to faith, really prayed, and this prayer helped him maintain his sanity.

From the prototype, Defoe took not only the external situation, but also a means to overcome the horror of loneliness - turning to God.

At the same time, both Defoe and his hero have an ambiguous view of the teachings of Christ, to put it mildly. They professed Calvinism in one of its variations. That is, they believed in a kind of predestination: if you are a person initially blessed from above, then you are lucky, everything works out for you, but unsuccessful people (and even nations!) should strongly doubt their ability to be saved at all. For us, Orthodox Christians, such views are very far from the essence of the Good News.

Of course, we can talk about such theological and moral problems of Robinson Crusoe when we know how and what Defoe actually wrote his novel about. But in our country, as already mentioned, it was not always easy or even possible to find out.

To fill in the most noticeable gaps in our understanding of Robinson Crusoe, Thomas asked us to talk in detail about the novel and its authorViktor Simakov, candidate filological sciences, teacher of Russian language and literature at school No. 1315 (Moscow).

Twice a lie - or effective PR

Daniel Defoe seems, at first glance, to be the author of one great book - Robinson Crusoe. Taking a closer look, we will understand that this is not entirely true: in about five years (1719–1724), he published about a dozen fiction books one after another, important in their own way: for example, “Roxana” (1724) became for many years a model of criminal novel, and “Diary of the Plague Year” (1722) influenced the work of García Márquez. And yet “Robinson Crusoe”, like “The Odyssey”, “The Divine Comedy”, “Don Quixote”, is a completely different level of fame and the basis for long cultural reflection. Robinson became a myth, a titan, eternally in art.

On April 25, 1719, a book with a verbose title appeared in London bookstores - “The Life, Extraordinary and Amazing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, a sailor from York, who lived for 28 years all alone on an uninhabited island off the coast of America near the mouth of the Orinoco River, where he was thrown by a shipwreck , during which the entire crew of the ship, except himself, perished, with an account of his unexpected release by the pirates; written by himself." The original English title has 65 words. This title is also a sensible annotation for the book: what reader wouldn’t buy it if on the cover there is America and pirates, adventures and a shipwreck, a river with a mysterious name and an uninhabited island. And also a small lie: in the twenty-fourth year, “complete loneliness” ended, Friday appeared.

The second lie is more serious: Robinson Crusoe did not write the book himself, he is a figment of the imagination of the author, who deliberately did not mention himself on the cover of the book. For the sake of good sales, he passed off fiction (artistic fiction) as non-fiction (that is, documentary), stylizing the novel as a memoir. The calculation worked, the circulation was sold out instantly, although the book cost five shillings - the same as a gentleman's formal suit.

Robinson in Russian snows

Already in August of the same year, along with the fourth printing of the novel, Defoe released a sequel - “The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe...” (then again there are a lot of words), also without mentioning the author and also in the form of memoirs. This book told the story of the aging Robinson's round-the-world trip across the Atlantic and Indian Ocean, China and snow-covered Russia, a new visit to the island and the death of Friday in Madagascar. And some time later, in 1720, a real non-fiction about Robinson Crusoe was published - a book of essays on various topics, containing, among other things, a description of Robinson’s vision of the angelic world. In the wake of the popularity of the first book, these two also sold well. In the field of book marketing, Defoe had no equal at that time.

Engraving. Jean Granville

One can only be amazed at the ease with which the writer imitates the easy artlessness of a diary style, despite the fact that he writes at a frantic pace. In 1719, three of his new books were published, including two volumes about Robinson, and in 1720 - four. Some of them are truly documentary prose, the other part are pseudo-memoirs, which are now usually called novels.

Is this a novel?

It is impossible to talk about the genre of the novel in the sense in which we now mean this word at the beginning of the 18th century. During this period in England there was a process of merging different genre formations (“ true story", "travel", "book", "biography", "description", "narration", "romance" and others) into a single concept of the novel genre and the idea of ​​its independent value gradually emerges. However, the word novel is rarely used in the 18th century, and its meaning is still narrow - it’s just a short love story.

Engraving. Jean Granville

Defoe did not position any of his novels as novels, but over and over again used the same marketing ploy - he released fake memoirs without indicating the name of the real author, believing that non-fiction is much more interesting than fiction. The Frenchman Gacien de Courtille de Sandra (“Memoirs of Messire d’Artagnan”, 1700) became famous a little earlier for such pseudo-memoirs - also with long titles. Jonathan Swift, soon after Defoe, took advantage of the same opportunity in “Gulliver’s Travels” (1726–1727), stylized as a diary: although the book described events much more fantastic than Defoe’s, even here there were readers who took the narrator at his word.

Defoe's fake memoirs played a key role in the development of the novel genre. In “Robinson Crusoe,” Defoe proposed a plot that was not just packed with adventure, but kept the reader in suspense (soon the term “suspense” would be coined in England). In addition, the narrative was quite integral - with a clear plot, consistent development of action and a convincing denouement. At that time this was rather a rarity. For example, the second book about Robinson, alas, could not boast of such integrity.

Where did Robinson come from?

The plot of "Robinson Crusoe" lay on prepared ground. During Defoe's lifetime, the story of the Scottish sailor Alexander Selkirk was widely known, who, after a quarrel with his captain, spent just over four years on the island of Mas a Tierra in the Pacific Ocean, 640 km from the coast of Chile (now this island is called Robinson Crusoe). Returning to England, he repeatedly spoke in pubs about his adventures and eventually became the hero of a sensational essay by Richard Steele (who, in particular, noted that Selkirk was a good storyteller). Taking a closer look at the history of Selkirk, Defoe, however, replaced the island in the Pacific Ocean with an island in the Caribbean Sea, since there was much more information about this region in the sources available to him.

Engraving. Jean Granville

The second probable source of the plot is “The Tale of Haya, son of Yakzan...” by the 12th century Arab author Ibn Tufail. This philosophical novel(again, as far as this term can be applied to a medieval Arabic book) about a hero who has lived on an island since infancy. Either he was sent by his sinning mother across the sea in a chest and thrown onto the island (an obvious allusion to stories from Old Testament and the Koran), or “spontaneously generated” from clay already there (both versions are given in the book). Then the hero was fed by a gazelle, learned everything on his own, subjugated the world and learned to think abstractly. The book was translated in 1671 into Latin language(as "The Self-Taught Philosopher"), and in 1708 - into English (as "The Improvement of the Human Mind"). This novel influenced European philosophy (for example, J. Locke) and literature (the type of narrative that the Germans in the 19th century would call the “novel of education”).

Defoe also saw a lot of interesting things in him. The plot of understanding the surrounding world and conquering nature went well with the new Enlightenment idea of ​​a person who intelligently arranges his life. True, the hero of Ibn Tufail acts without knowing anything about civilization; Robinson, on the contrary, being a civilized person, reproduces the signs of civilization in his own country. From the half-sunken ship, he takes three Bibles, navigational instruments, weapons, gunpowder, clothes, a dog and even money (though they were useful only at the end of the novel). He did not forget the language, prayed daily and consistently observed religious holidays, built a fortress house, a fence, made furniture, a tobacco pipe, began to sew clothes, keep a diary, started a calendar, began to use the usual measures of weight, length, volume, and established a daily routine : “In the foreground were religious duties and the reading of the Holy Scriptures... The second of the daily tasks was hunting... The third was the sorting, drying and cooking of killed or caught game.”

Here, perhaps, you can see Defoe’s main ideological message (it exists, despite the fact that the book about Robinson was clearly written and published as a commercial, sensational one): a modern man of the third estate, relying on his reason and experience, is able to independently arrange his life in complete harmony with the achievements of civilization. This author’s idea fits well with the ideology of the Age of Enlightenment with its acceptance of Cartesian epistemology (“I think, therefore I am”), Lockean empiricism (a person receives all the material of reasoning and knowledge from experience) and a new idea of ​​the active personality, rooted in Protestant ethics. The latter is worth looking into in more detail.

Tables of Protestant Ethics

Robinson's life consists of rules and traditions defined by his native culture. Robinson's father, an honest representative of the middle class, extols the “middle state” (that is, the Aristotelian golden mean), which in this case consists of a reasonable acceptance of one’s lot in life: Crusoe’s family is relatively wealthy and there is no point in refusing “the position occupied by birth in the world.” Having cited his father’s apology for the average state, Robinson continues: “And although (this is how the father ended his speech) he will never stop praying for me, he declares to me directly that if I do not give up my crazy idea, I will not have the blessing of God.” . Judging by the plot of the novel, it took Robinson many years and trials to understand the essence of his father’s warning.

Engraving. Jean Granville

On the island, he retraced the path of human development - from gathering to colonialism. Leaving the island at the end of the novel, he positions himself as its owner (and in the second book, returning to the island, he behaves like the local viceroy).

The notorious “middle state” and burgher morality in this case are completely combined with the bad idea of ​​the 18th century about the inequality of races and the admissibility of the slave trade and slavery. At the beginning of the novel, Robinson found it possible to sell the boy Xuri, with whom he escaped from Turkish captivity; Afterwards, if not for the shipwreck, he planned to engage in the slave trade. The first three words Robinson taught Friday were “yes,” “no,” and “master.”

Whether Defoe wanted it consciously or not, his hero turned out to be an excellent portrait of a man of the third estate in the 18th century, with his support for colonialism and slavery, a rational business approach to life, and religious restrictions. Most likely, Robinson is what Defoe himself was. Robinson doesn't even try to find out Friday's real name; The author is also not very interested in it.

Robinson is a Protestant. In the text of the novel, his exact religious affiliation is not indicated, but since Defoe himself (like his father) was a Presbyterian, it is logical to assume that his hero, Robinson, also belongs to the Presbyterian church. Presbyterianism is one of the directions of Protestantism, based on the teachings of John Calvin; in fact, it is a type of Calvinism. Robinson inherited this belief from his German father, an emigrant from Bremen who once bore the name Kreuzner.

Protestants insist that there is no need for priests as intermediaries to communicate with God. So the Protestant Robinson believed that he communicated with God directly. By communication with God, as a Presbyterian, he meant only prayer; he did not believe in the sacraments.

Without mental communication with God, Robinson would quickly go crazy. He prays and reads the Holy Scriptures every day. With God he does not feel alone even in the most extreme circumstances.

This, by the way, correlates well with the story of Alexander Selkirk, who, in order not to go crazy from loneliness on the island, read the Bible aloud every day and sang psalms loudly.

One of the restrictions that Robinson religiously observes looks curious (Defoe does not specifically dwell on this point, but it is clearly visible from the text) - this is the habit of always walking dressed on a desert tropical island. Apparently, the hero cannot bare himself before God, constantly feeling his presence nearby. In one scene - where Robinson swims to a half-sunken ship near the island - he entered the water “undressed”, and then, while on the ship, was able to use his pockets, which means he still did not completely undress.

Protestants - Calvinists, Presbyterians - were confident that it was possible to determine which people were loved by God and which were not. This can be seen from the signs that you need to be able to observe. One of the most important is luck in business, which greatly increases the value of work and its material results. Once on the island, Robinson tries to understand his situation with the help of a table in which he carefully writes down all the pros and cons. Their number is equal, but this gives Robinson hope. Further, Robinson works hard and through the results of his work he feels the mercy of the Lord.

Equally important are the numerous warning signs that do not stop young Robinson. The first ship on which he set off sank (“Conscience, which at that time had not yet completely hardened in me,” says Robinson, “severely reproached me for neglecting my parents’ admonitions and for violating my duties to God and my father,” - this means neglect of the given lot in life and father’s admonitions). Another ship was captured by Turkish pirates. Robinson set off on the most ill-fated of his journeys exactly eight years later, to the day after escaping from his father, who warned him against unwise steps. Already on the island, he sees a dream: a terrible man, engulfed in flames, descends from the sky towards him and wants to hit him with a spear for his wickedness.

Defoe persistently conveys the idea that one should not commit daring acts and radically change one’s life without special signs from above, that is, in essence, he constantly condemns pride (despite the fact that he most likely does not consider Robinson’s colonialist habits to be pride).

Gradually, Robinson becomes more and more inclined towards religious thoughts. At the same time, he clearly separates the spheres of the miraculous and the everyday. Seeing ears of barley and rice on the island, he gives thanks to God; then he remembers that he himself shook out a bag of bird food at this place: “The miracle disappeared, and along with the discovery that all this was the most natural thing, I must admit, my gratitude to Providence cooled significantly.”

When Friday appears on the island, main character trying to instill in him his own religious ideas. He is baffled by the natural question about the origin and essence of evil, the most difficult for most believers: why does God tolerate the devil? Robinson does not give a direct answer; after thinking for a while, he suddenly likens the devil to a man: “You better ask why God didn’t kill you or me when we did bad things that offended Him; we were spared so that we would repent and receive forgiveness.”

The main character himself was dissatisfied with his answer - nothing else came to his mind. In general, Robinson eventually comes to the conclusion that he is not very successful in interpreting complex theological issues.

IN last years living on the island is something else that gives him sincere joy: prayer together with Friday, a joint feeling of the presence of God on the island.

Robinson's legacy

Although Defoe saved the main philosophical and ethical content for the last, third book about Robinson, time turned out to be wiser than the author: Defoe’s most profound, integral and influential book was recognized as the first volume of this trilogy (characteristically, the latter was not even translated into Russian).

Jean-Jacques Rousseau in the didactic novel “Emile, or On Education” (1762) called “Robinson Crusoe” the only book useful for children's reading. The plot situation of a desert island, described by Defoe, is considered by Rousseau as an educational game, which the child should become familiar with through reading.

Engraving. Jean Granville

In the 19th century, several variations on the Robinson theme were created, including Robert Ballantyne's Coral Island (1857), Jules Verne's The Mysterious Island (1874), and Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island (1882). In the second half of the 20th century, “Robinsonade” was rethought in the light of current philosophical and psychological theories - “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding (1954), “Friday, or Pacific Limb” (1967) and “Friday, or the Wild Life” (1971) by Michel Tournier , Mister Fo (1984) by John Maxwell Coetzee. Luis Buñuel set surreal and psychoanalytic accents in the film Robinson Crusoe (1954).

Now, in the 21st century, in the light of new reflections on the coexistence of a number of different cultures, Defoe's novel is still relevant. The relationship between Robinson and Friday is an example of the interaction of races as it was understood three centuries ago. Using a specific example, the novel makes you think: what has changed over the years and in what ways the authors’ views are certainly outdated? In terms of worldview, Defoe's novel perfectly illustrates the ideology of the Enlightenment in its British version. However, now we are much more interested in the question of the essence of man in general. Let us recall the aforementioned novel by Golding “Lord of the Flies”, in which the abodes of the island do not develop, like Defoe’s, but, on the contrary, degrade and show base instincts. What is he, a person, really like, what is more in him - creative or destructive? In essence, here one can see a cultural reflection on the Christian concept of original sin.

As for the author’s religious ideas, the average reader’s idea of ​​a golden mean will probably not cause objections, which cannot be said about the condemnation of daring actions in general. In this regard, the author’s philosophy can be considered bourgeois and bourgeois. Such ideas would be condemned, for example, by representatives of romantic literature at the beginning of the 19th century.

Despite this, Defoe's novel lives on. This is explained by the fact that “Robinson Crusoe” is, first of all, a sensational text, not a didactic one; it captivates with images, plot, exoticism, and does not teach. The meanings contained in it are present, rather, latently, and therefore it raises questions rather than giving complete answers. This is the key to a long life literary work. Reading it again and again, each generation thinks about the questions that arise and answers them in its own way.

The first translation of Robinson Crusoe into Russian was published in 1762. It was translated by Yakov Trusov under the title “The Life and Adventures of Robinson Cruz, a Natural Englishman.” The classic, most often reprinted complete translation of the text into Russian was published in 1928 by Maria Shishmareva (1852–1939), and since 1955 it has been reprinted many times.

Leo Tolstoy in 1862 made his retelling of the first volume of Robinson Crusoe for his pedagogical journal"Yasnaya Polyana".

There are 25 film adaptations of Robinson Crusoe (including animation). The first was made in 1902, the last - in 2016. The role of Robinson was played by such actors as Douglas Farnbex, Pavel Kadochnikov, Peter O'Toole, Leonid Kuravlev, Pierce Brosnan, Pierre Richard.

As soon as the rains stopped and the sun began to shine again, I began to prepare from morning to night for the upcoming voyage. I calculated in advance how much provisions we might need and began to put aside the necessary supplies. In two weeks, or even earlier, I expected to break the dam and remove the boat from the dock.

But we were not destined to set off.

One morning, when I was, as usual, busy preparing for departure, it occurred to me that it would be nice, in addition to other food, to take with me a small supply of turtle meat.

I called Friday and asked him to run to the shore and catch the turtle. (We hunted turtles every week, since we both loved their meat and eggs.) Friday rushed to fulfill my request, but not even a quarter of an hour had passed before he came running back, flew, as if on wings, over the fence and, before I could to ask him what was the matter, he shouted:

Woe, woe! Trouble! Not good!

What's happened? What happened, Friday? - I asked in alarm.

There,” he answered, “near the shore, there are one, two, three... one, two, three boats!”

From his words, I concluded that there were six of all boats, but, as it turned out later, there were only three, and he repeated the count because he was very excited.

No need to be afraid, Friday! You need to be brave! - I said, trying to encourage him.

The poor guy was terribly scared. For some reason he decided that the savages had come for him, as if they were now going to cut him into pieces and eat him. He was shaking violently. I didn't know how to calm him down. I said that, in any case, I was exposed to the same danger: if they eat him, they will eat me along with him.

But we will stand up for ourselves, I said, we will not fall into their hands alive. We must engage them in battle, and you will see that we will win! You know how to fight, don't you?

“I know how to shoot,” he answered, “but there were a lot of them, a lot of them.”

It doesn’t matter, I said, we’ll kill some, and the rest will be frightened by our shots and run away. I promise you that I will not let you be offended. I will bravely defend myself and protect you. But do you promise that you will just as bravely protect me and carry out all my orders?

I will die if you command, Robin Crusoe!

After this, I brought a large mug of rum from the cave and gave him a drink (I used my rum so carefully that I still had a fair supply left).
We then collected all our muskets and hunting rifles, put them in order and loaded them. In addition, I armed myself, as always, with a saber without a sheath, and gave Friday an ax.
Having thus prepared for battle, I took a telescope and climbed the mountain for reconnaissance.
Pointing the pipe to the seashore, I soon saw savages: there were about twenty of them, and, in addition, three tied people were lying on the shore. I repeat, there were only three boats, not six. It was clear that this whole crowd of savages came to the island for the sole purpose of celebrating their victory over the enemy. A terrible, bloody feast lay ahead.
I also noticed that this time they landed not where they landed three years ago, on the day of our first meeting with Friday, but much closer to my cove. Here the coast was low and a dense forest descended almost to the sea.
I was terribly agitated by the crime that was about to be committed now. There was no time to hesitate. I ran down the mountain and told Friday that it was necessary to attack these bloodthirsty people as soon as possible.
At the same time, I asked him again if he would help me. He had now completely recovered from his fright (which, perhaps, was partly facilitated by the rum) and with a cheerful, even joyful look, he repeated that he was ready to die for me.
Still not cooled down from anger, I grabbed pistols and shotguns (Friday took the rest), and we set off. Just in case, I put a bottle of rum in my pocket and let Friday carry a large bag with spare bullets and gunpowder.
“Follow me,” I said, “don’t lag behind a single step and be silent.” Do not ask me about anything. Don't you dare shoot without my command!
Approaching the edge of the forest from the edge that was closer to the shore, I stopped, quietly called Friday and, showing him a tall tree, ordered him to climb to the top and see if the savages were visible from there and what they were doing. Having fulfilled my instructions, he immediately came down from the tree and reported that the savages were sitting around the fire, eating one of the prisoners they had brought, and the other was lying tied up right there on the sand.
“Then they’ll eat this one too,” Friday added quite calmly.
My whole soul burned with rage at these words.
Friday told me that the second prisoner was not an Indian, but one of those white, bearded men who landed on his shore in a boat. “We must act,” I decided. I hid behind a tree, took out a telescope and clearly saw a white man on the shore. He lay motionless because his arms and legs were tied flexible rods.
Undoubtedly he was a European: he was wearing clothes.
There were bushes ahead, and among these bushes there was a tree. The bushes were quite dense, so it was possible to sneak up there unnoticed.
Although I was so angry that I wanted to rush at the cannibals at that very moment, without even thinking about possible consequences, I curbed my rage and secretly made my way to the tree. The tree stood on a hillock. From this hill I saw everything that was happening on the shore.
The savages sat around the fire, huddled closely together. There were nineteen of them. A little further away, bending over the bound European, two more stood. Apparently they had just been sent for a prisoner. They had to kill him, cut him into pieces and distribute pieces of his meat to the feasters.
I turned to Friday.
“Look at me,” I said, “whatever I do, do you too.”
With these words I laid one of the muskets and a hunting rifle on the ground, and with the other musket I took aim at the savages. Friday did the same.
- Are you ready? - I asked him.
“Yes,” he answered.
- Well, shoot! - I said, and we both shot at the same time.
Friday's aim turned out to be more accurate than mine: he killed two people and wounded three, while I only wounded two and killed one.
It is easy to imagine what terrible confusion our shots caused in the crowd of savages! Those who remained alive jumped to their feet, not knowing where to rush, in which direction to look, because although they understood that they were in danger of death, they did not see where it was coming from.
Friday, fulfilling my orders, did not take his eyes off me.
Without allowing the savages to come to their senses after the first shots, I threw the musket to the ground, grabbed the gun, cocked the hammer and took aim again. Friday exactly copied my every move.
- Are you ready, Friday? - I asked again.
- Ready! - he answered.
- Shoot! - I commanded.
Two shots rang out almost simultaneously, but since this time we fired from guns loaded with shot, only two were killed (at least two fell), but there were a lot of wounded.
Drenched in blood, they ran along the shore screaming wildly like madmen. Three were obviously seriously wounded, because they soon fell. However, it later turned out that they survived.
I took the musket, which still had charges, and shouted: “Friday, follow me!” - ran out of the forest into an open place. Friday did not lag behind me a single step. Noticing that the enemies saw me, I rushed forward with a loud cry.
- Shout too! - I ordered Friday.
He immediately screamed even louder than me. Unfortunately, my armor was so heavy that it prevented me from running. But I didn’t seem to feel them and rushed forward as fast as I could, straight towards the unfortunate European, who, as already said, lay to the side, on the sandy shore, between the sea and the fire of the savages. There was not a single person near him. The two who wanted to kill him ran away at the first shots. In terrible fright, they rushed to the sea, jumped into the boat and began to cast off. Three more savages managed to jump into the same boat.
I turned to Friday and ordered him to deal with them. He instantly understood my thought and, after running about forty steps, approached the boat and shot at them with a gun.
All five fell to the bottom of the boat. I thought that they were all killed, but two immediately stood up. Obviously, they fell simply out of fear.
While Friday was shooting at the enemy, I took out my pocket knife and cut the bonds that tied the prisoner's arms and legs. I helped him up and asked him in Portuguese who he was. He answered:
- Hispaniola (Spanish).
Soon he recovered a little and began to express to me through gestures his ardent gratitude for saving his life.
Calling on all my knowledge of Spanish, I told him in Spanish:
- Senor, we will talk later, but now we must fight. If you have some strength left, here's a saber and a pistol.
The Spaniard gratefully accepted both and, feeling the weapon in his hands, became like a different person. Where did the strength come from! Like a storm, he rushed madly at the villains and cut two of them into pieces in an instant.
However, such a feat did not require special strength: the unfortunate savages, stunned by the roar of our shooting, were so frightened that they could neither flee nor defend themselves. Many fell simply out of fear, like the two who fell to the bottom of the boat from Friday's shot, although the bullets flew past them.
Since I gave the saber and pistol to the Spaniard, I only had a musket left. It was loaded, but I was saving my charge for emergencies and therefore did not fire.
In the bushes, under the tree from which we first opened fire, our hunting rifles remained. I called Friday and told him to run after them.
He carried out my order with great haste. I gave him my musket, and began to load the other guns, telling the Spaniard and Friday to come to me when they needed weapons. They expressed their complete readiness to obey my orders.
While I was loading my guns, the Spaniard, with extraordinary fearlessness, attacked one of the savages, and a fierce battle ensued between them.
The savage had a huge wooden sword in his hands. Savages are excellent at wielding these deadly weapons. They wanted to finish off the Spaniard with one of these swords as he lay by the fire. Now this sword was raised above his head again. I did not expect that the Spaniard would turn out to be such a brave man: it is true that he was still weak after the torment he had endured, but he fought with great tenacity and dealt his enemy two terrible blows to the head with his saber. The savage was enormous, very muscular and strong. Suddenly he threw away his sword, and they fought hand-to-hand. The Spaniard had a very bad time: the savage immediately knocked him down, leaned on him and began to snatch the saber from him. Seeing this, I jumped up and rushed to his aid. But the Spaniard was not at a loss: he wisely let go of the saber, grabbed a pistol from his belt, shot at the savage and killed him on the spot.
Meanwhile, Friday pursued the fleeing savages with heroic courage. He only had an ax in his hand and had no other weapons. With this ax he had already finished off three savages wounded by our first shots, and now he did not spare anyone who got in his way.
The Spaniard, having overcome the giant who was threatening him, jumped to his feet, ran up to me, grabbed one of the hunting rifles I had loaded and set off in pursuit of two savages. He wounded both, but since he was unable to run for long, both savages managed to hide in the forest.
Friday ran after them, waving an axe. Despite his wounds, one of the savages rushed into the sea and swam after the boat: there were three savages in it, who managed to set sail from the shore.
The three savages in the boat worked their oars with all their might, trying to get away from the shots as quickly as possible.
Friday fired after them two or three times, but apparently missed. He began to persuade me to take one of the savages’ pirogues and go after the fugitives before they managed to move too far from the shore.
I didn’t want them to run away myself. I was afraid that when they told their fellow countrymen about our attack on them, they would come here in countless numbers, and then we would be in trouble. True, we have guns, but they only have arrows, yes wooden swords, but if a whole flotilla of enemy boats lands on our shore, we, of course, will be exterminated mercilessly. So I gave in to Friday's insistence. I ran towards the pirogues, ordering him to follow me.
But great was my amazement when, jumping into the pirogue, I saw a man there! He was a savage, an old man. He lay on the bottom of the boat, tied hand and foot. Obviously, it was also meant to be eaten by the fire. Not understanding what was going on around him (he couldn’t even look over the side of the pirogue - they tied him up so tightly), the unfortunate man almost died of fear.
I immediately took out a knife, cut the bonds that bound him and wanted to help him get up. But he couldn't stand. He was not even able to speak, but only moaned pitifully: the unfortunate man seemed to think that they had only untied him to kill and eat him.
Then Friday ran up.
“Tell this man,” I turned to Friday, “that he is free, that we will not do him any harm and that his enemies are destroyed.”
Friday spoke to the old man, and I poured a few drops of rum into the prisoner’s mouth.
The joyful news of freedom revived the unfortunate man: he rose up at the bottom of the boat and uttered some words.
It is impossible to imagine what happened to Friday! The most callous person would have been moved to tears if he had observed him at that moment. As soon as he heard the voice of the old savage and saw his face, he rushed to kiss and hug him, cried, laughed, pressed him to his chest, screamed, then began to jump around him, sang, danced, then cried again, waved his arms, began to beat himself. head and face - in a word, he behaved like crazy.
I asked him what happened, but for a long time I could not get any explanation from him. Finally, having come to his senses a little, he told me that this man was his father.
I cannot express how touched I was by such a stormy manifestation of filial love! I never thought that a rude savage could be so shocked and delighted to meet his father.
But at the same time, it was impossible not to laugh at the crazy jumps and gestures with which he expressed his filial feelings. About ten times he jumped out of the boat and jumped into it again; Either he will open his jacket and press his father’s head tightly to his bare chest, or he will begin to rub his stiff arms and legs.
Seeing that the old man was completely numb, I advised him to rub him with rum, and Friday immediately began to rub him.
Of course, we forgot to even think about pursuing the fugitives; During this time their boat had gone so far that it was almost out of sight.
We didn’t even try to chase them, and, as it turned out, we did a very good job, because after about two hours a fierce wind arose, which would undoubtedly have capsized our boat. It blew from the northwest just towards the fugitives. It was unlikely that they could cope with this storm; I was sure that they died in the waves without seeing their native shores.
The unexpected joy excited Friday so much that I did not have the courage to tear him away from my father. “We need to let him calm down,” I thought and stood not far away, waiting for his joyful ardor to cool down.
It didn't happen soon. Finally I called out to Friday. He ran up to me, skipping, with a cheerful laugh, satisfied and happy. I asked him if he gave his father bread. He shook his head sadly:
- There is no bread: the ugly dog ​​didn’t leave anything, he ate it all himself! - and pointed to himself.
Then I took out all the provisions I had from my bag - a small flatbread and two or three branches of raisins - and gave it to Friday. And with the same fussy tenderness he began to feed his father as if he were a small child. Seeing that he was trembling with excitement, I advised him to strengthen his strength with the rest of the rum, but he also gave the rum to the old man.
A minute later, Friday was already rushing somewhere like mad. He actually ran amazingly fast. In vain I shouted after him to stop and tell me where he was running - he disappeared.
However, after a quarter of an hour he returned, and his steps became much slower. As he came closer, I saw that he was carrying something. It was an earthenware jug of fresh water that he got for his father. To do this, he ran home to our fortress, and by the way, he grabbed two more loaves of bread. He gave me the bread and took the water to the old man, allowing me, however, to take a few sips, since I was very thirsty. Water revived the old man better than any alcohol: he, it turned out, was dying of thirst.
When the old man had drunk, I called Friday and asked if there was any water left in the jug. He answered that there was some left, and I told him to give the poor Spaniard, who was as thirsty as the old savage, to drink. I also sent the Spaniard a loaf of bread.
The Spaniard was still very weak. He sat on the lawn under a tree, completely exhausted. The savages tied him up so tightly that his arms and legs were now swollen.
When he quenched his thirst with fresh water and ate some bread, I went up to him and gave him a handful of raisins. He raised his head and looked at me with the greatest gratitude, then he wanted to get up, but could not - his swollen legs hurt so much. Looking at this sick man, it was difficult to imagine that with such fatigue he could have just fought so valiantly against a powerful enemy. I advised him to sit and not move and instructed Friday to rub his feet with rum.
While Friday was caring for the Spaniard, he turned around every two minutes, and maybe more often, to see if his father needed anything. Friday could only see the old man's head, as he was sitting at the bottom of the boat. Suddenly, looking back, he saw that the head had disappeared; at that very moment Friday was on his feet. He did not run, but flew: it seemed that his feet did not touch the ground. But when, having reached the boat, he saw that his father had lain down to rest and was lying calmly at the bottom of the boat, he immediately returned to us.
Then I told the Spaniard that my friend would help him get up and take him to the boat in which we would take him to our home.
But Friday, tall and stalwart, picked him up like a child, put him on his back and carried him. Having reached the boat, he carefully placed him first on board, and then on the bottom, next to his father. Then he went ashore, pushed the boat into the water, jumped into it again and took hold of the oars. I walked.
Friday was an excellent rower, and, despite the strong wind, the boat rushed along the shore so quickly that I could not keep up with it.
Friday brought the boat safely to our harbor and, leaving his father and the Spaniard there, ran back along the shore.
-Where are you running? - asked running past me.
- We need to bring another boat! - I ran and rushed on like a whirlwind.
Not a single person, not a single horse could keep up with him - he ran so fast. I had barely reached the cove before he arrived there with another boat.
Jumping ashore, he began to help our new guests get out of the boat, but both of them were so weak that they could not stand on their feet.
Poor Friday didn't know what to do.
I also thought about it.
“Leave our guests on the shore for now,” I told him, “and follow me.”
We went to the nearest grove, cut down two or three trees and quickly made a stretcher, on which we delivered the sick to the outer wall of our fortress.
At this point we were completely at a loss, not knowing what to do next. Of course, we were unable to drag two adults over such a high fence. I had to think again, and again I figured out what to do. Friday and I got to work, and after about two hours we had a very good canvas tent ready, with branches piled thickly on it.
In this tent we made two beds of rice straw and four blankets.