I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family,
though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who
settled first at Hull.  He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving
off his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my
mother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that
country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the
usual corruption of words in England, we are now called—nay we call
ourselves and write our name—Crusoe; and so my companions always called
me.

I had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an
English regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous
Colonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the
Spaniards.  What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than
my father or mother knew what became of me.

Being the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head
began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts.  My father, who was
very ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as
house-education and a country free school generally go, and designed me
for the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and
my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay, the
commands of my father, and against all the entreaties and persuasions of
my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in
that propensity of nature, tending directly to the life of misery which
was to befall me.

My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel
against what he foresaw was my design.  He called me one morning into his
chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly
with me upon this subject.  He asked me what reasons, more than a mere
wandering inclination, I had for leaving father's house and my native
country, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of raising
my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and pleasure.
He told me it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring,
superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon adventures, to rise
by enterprise, and make themselves famous in undertakings of a nature out
of the common road; that these things were all either too far above me or
too far below me; that mine was the middle state, or what might be called
the upper station of low life, which he had found, by long experience,
was the best state in the world, the most suited to human happiness, not
exposed to the miseries and hardships, the labour and sufferings of the
mechanic part of mankind, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury,
ambition, and envy of the upper part of mankind.  He told me I might
judge of the happiness of this state by this one thing—viz. that this was
the state of life which all other people envied; that kings have
frequently lamented the miserable consequence of being born to great
things, and wished they had been placed in the middle of the two
extremes, between the mean and the great; that the wise man gave his
testimony to this, as the standard of felicity, when he prayed to have
neither poverty nor riches.

He bade me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of
life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind, but that the
middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many
vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they were not
subjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of body or mind,
as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and extravagances on the
one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean or
insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distemper upon themselves by
the natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle station
of life was calculated for all kind of virtue and all kind of enjoyments;
that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a middle fortune; that
temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society, all agreeable
diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessings attending the
middle station of life; that this way men went silently and smoothly
through the world, and comfortably out of it, not embarrassed with the
labours of the hands or of the head, not sold to a life of slavery for
daily bread, nor harassed with perplexed circumstances, which rob the
soul of peace and the body of rest, nor enraged with the passion of envy,
or the secret burning lust of ambition for great things; but, in easy
circumstances, sliding gently through the world, and sensibly tasting the
sweets of living, without the bitter; feeling that they are happy, and
learning by every day's experience to know it more sensibly.

After this he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate manner,
not to play the young man, nor to precipitate myself into miseries which
nature, and the station of life I was born in, seemed to have provided
against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my bread; that he would
do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly into the station of life
which he had just been recommending to me; and that if I was not very
easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere fate or fault that must
hinder it; and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus
discharged his duty in warning me against measures which he knew would be
to my hurt; in a word, that as he would do very kind things for me if I
would stay and settle at home as he directed, so he would not have so
much hand in my misfortunes as to give me any encouragement to go away;
and to close all, he told me I had my elder brother for an example, to
whom he had used the same earnest persuasions to keep him from going into
the Low Country wars, but could not prevail, his young desires prompting
him to run into the army, where he was killed; and though he said he
would not cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that
if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless me, and I should
have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when
there might be none to assist in my recovery.

I observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly prophetic,
though I suppose my father did not know it to be so himself—I say, I
observed the tears run down his face very plentifully, especially when he
spoke of my brother who was killed: and that when he spoke of my having
leisure to repent, and none to assist me, he was so moved that he broke
off the discourse, and told me his heart was so full he could say no more
to me.

I was sincerely affected with this discourse, and, indeed, who could be
otherwise? and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to
settle at home according to my father's desire.  But alas! a few days
wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of my father's further
importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from
him.  However, I did not act quite so hastily as the first heat of my
resolution prompted; but I took my mother at a time when I thought her a
little more pleasant than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts were so
entirely bent upon seeing the world that I should never settle to
anything with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father had
better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that I was now
eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a trade or
clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I did I should never serve out
my time, but I should certainly run away from my master before my time
was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my father to let me go
one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did not like it, I would go
no more; and I would promise, by a double diligence, to recover the time
that I had lost.

This put my mother into a great passion; she told me she knew it would be
to no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he knew
too well what was my interest to give his consent to anything so much for
my hurt; and that she wondered how I could think of any such thing after
the discourse I had had with my father, and such kind and tender
expressions as she knew my father had used to me; and that, in short, if
I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I might depend I
should never have their consent to it; that for her part she would not
have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have it to say
that my mother was willing when my father was not.

Though my mother refused to move it to my father, yet I heard afterwards
that she reported all the discourse to him, and that my father, after
showing a great concern at it, said to her, with a sigh, "That boy might
be happy if he would stay at home; but if he goes abroad, he will be the
most miserable wretch that ever was born: I can give no consent to it."

It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in
the meantime, I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling
to business, and frequently expostulated with my father and mother about
their being so positively determined against what they knew my
inclinations prompted me to.  But being one day at Hull, where I went
casually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time;
but, I say, being there, and one of my companions being about to sail to
London in his father's ship, and prompting me to go with them with the
common allurement of seafaring men, that it should cost me nothing for my
passage, I consulted neither father nor mother any more, nor so much as
sent them word of it; but leaving them to hear of it as they might,
without asking God's blessing or my father's, without any consideration
of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God knows, on the
1st of September 1651, I went on board a ship bound for London.  Never
any young adventurer's misfortunes, I believe, began sooner, or continued
longer than mine.  The ship was no sooner out of the Humber than the wind
began to blow and the sea to rise in a most frightful manner; and, as I
had never been at sea before, I was most inexpressibly sick in body and
terrified in mind.  I began now seriously to reflect upon what I had
done, and how justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven for my
wicked leaving my father's house, and abandoning my duty.  All the good
counsels of my parents, my father's tears and my mother's entreaties,
came now fresh into my mind; and my conscience, which was not yet come to
the pitch of hardness to which it has since, reproached me with the
contempt of advice, and the breach of my duty to God and my father.

All this while the storm increased, and the sea went very high, though
nothing like what I have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a few
days after; but it was enough to affect me then, who was but a young
sailor, and had never known anything of the matter.  I expected every
wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship fell down,
as I thought it did, in the trough or hollow of the sea, we should never
rise more; in this agony of mind, I made many vows and resolutions that
if it would please God to spare my life in this one voyage, if ever I got
once my foot upon dry land again, I would go directly home to my father,
and never set it into a ship again while I lived; that I would take his
advice, and never run myself into such miseries as these any more.  Now I
saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle station of
life, how easy, how comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had
been exposed to tempests at sea or troubles on shore; and I resolved that
I would, like a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father.

These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm lasted,
and indeed some time after; but the next day the wind was abated, and the
sea calmer, and I began to be a little inured to it; however, I was very
grave for all that day, being also a little sea-sick still; but towards
night the weather cleared up, the wind was quite over, and a charming
fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly clear, and rose so the
next morning; and having little or no wind, and a smooth sea, the sun
shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most delightful that
ever I saw.

I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very
cheerful, looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and terrible
the day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so little a time
after.  And now, lest my good resolutions should continue, my companion,
who had enticed me away, comes to me; "Well, Bob," says he, clapping me
upon the shoulder, "how do you do after it?  I warrant you were frighted,
wer'n't you, last night, when it blew but a capful of wind?"  "A capful
d'you call it?" said I; "'twas a terrible storm."  "A storm, you fool
you," replies he; "do you call that a storm? why, it was nothing at all;
give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we think nothing of such a
squall of wind as that; but you're but a fresh-water sailor, Bob.  Come,
let us make a bowl of punch, and we'll forget all that; d'ye see what
charming weather 'tis now?"  To make short this sad part of my story, we
went the way of all sailors; the punch was made and I was made half drunk
with it: and in that one night's wickedness I drowned all my repentance,
all my reflections upon my past conduct, all my resolutions for the
future.  In a word, as the sea was returned to its smoothness of surface
and settled calmness by the abatement of that storm, so the hurry of my
thoughts being over, my fears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by
the sea being forgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I
entirely forgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress.  I
found, indeed, some intervals of reflection; and the serious thoughts
did, as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook them
off, and roused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and
applying myself to drinking and company, soon mastered the return of
those fits—for so I called them; and I had in five or six days got as
complete a victory over conscience as any young fellow that resolved not
to be troubled with it could desire.  But I was to have another trial for
it still; and Providence, as in such cases generally it does, resolved to
leave me entirely without excuse; for if I would not take this for a
deliverance, the next was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened
wretch among us would confess both the danger and the mercy of.

The sixth day of our being at sea we came into Yarmouth Roads; the wind
having been contrary and the weather calm, we had made but little way
since the storm.  Here we were obliged to come to an anchor, and here we
lay, the wind continuing contrary—viz. at south-west—for seven or eight
days, during which time a great many ships from Newcastle came into the
same Roads, as the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind
for the river.

We had not, however, rid here so long but we should have tided it up the
river, but that the wind blew too fresh, and after we had lain four or
five days, blew very hard.  However, the Roads being reckoned as good as
a harbour, the anchorage good, and our ground-tackle very strong, our men
were unconcerned, and not in the least apprehensive of danger, but spent
the time in rest and mirth, after the manner of the sea; but the eighth
day, in the morning, the wind increased, and we had all hands at work to
strike our topmasts, and make everything snug and close, that the ship
might ride as easy as possible.  By noon the sea went very high indeed,
and our ship rode forecastle in, shipped several seas, and we thought
once or twice our anchor had come home; upon which our master ordered out
the sheet-anchor, so that we rode with two anchors ahead, and the cables
veered out to the bitter end.

By this time it blew a terrible storm indeed; and now I began to see
terror and amazement in the faces even of the seamen themselves.  The
master, though vigilant in the business of preserving the ship, yet as he
went in and out of his cabin by me, I could hear him softly to himself
say, several times, "Lord be merciful to us! we shall be all lost! we
shall be all undone!" and the like.  During these first hurries I was
stupid, lying still in my cabin, which was in the steerage, and cannot
describe my temper: I could ill resume the first penitence which I had so
apparently trampled upon and hardened myself against: I thought the
bitterness of death had been past, and that this would be nothing like
the first; but when the master himself came by me, as I said just now,
and said we should be all lost, I was dreadfully frighted.  I got up out
of my cabin and looked out; but such a dismal sight I never saw: the sea
ran mountains high, and broke upon us every three or four minutes; when I
could look about, I could see nothing but distress round us; two ships
that rode near us, we found, had cut their masts by the board, being deep
laden; and our men cried out that a ship which rode about a mile ahead of
us was foundered.  Two more ships, being driven from their anchors, were
run out of the Roads to sea, at all adventures, and that with not a mast
standing.  The light ships fared the best, as not so much labouring in
the sea; but two or three of them drove, and came close by us, running
away with only their spritsail out before the wind.

Towards evening the mate and boatswain begged the master of our ship to
let them cut away the fore-mast, which he was very unwilling to do; but
the boatswain protesting to him that if he did not the ship would
founder, he consented; and when they had cut away the fore-mast, the
main-mast stood so loose, and shook the ship so much, they were obliged
to cut that away also, and make a clear deck.

Any one may judge what a condition I must be in at all this, who was but
a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a little.
But if I can express at this distance the thoughts I had about me at that
time, I was in tenfold more horror of mind upon account of my former
convictions, and the having returned from them to the resolutions I had
wickedly taken at first, than I was at death itself; and these, added to
the terror of the storm, put me into such a condition that I can by no
words describe it.  But the worst was not come yet; the storm continued
with such fury that the seamen themselves acknowledged they had never
seen a worse.  We had a good ship, but she was deep laden, and wallowed
in the sea, so that the seamen every now and then cried out she would
founder.  It was my advantage in one respect, that I did not know what
they meant by _founder_ till I inquired.  However, the storm was so
violent that I saw, what is not often seen, the master, the boatswain,
and some others more sensible than the rest, at their prayers, and
expecting every moment when the ship would go to the bottom.  In the
middle of the night, and under all the rest of our distresses, one of the
men that had been down to see cried out we had sprung a leak; another
said there was four feet water in the hold.  Then all hands were called
to the pump.  At that word, my heart, as I thought, died within me: and I
fell backwards upon the side of my bed where I sat, into the cabin.
However, the men roused me, and told me that I, that was able to do
nothing before, was as well able to pump as another; at which I stirred
up and went to the pump, and worked very heartily.  While this was doing
the master, seeing some light colliers, who, not able to ride out the
storm were obliged to slip and run away to sea, and would come near us,
ordered to fire a gun as a signal of distress.  I, who knew nothing what
they meant, thought the ship had broken, or some dreadful thing happened.
In a word, I was so surprised that I fell down in a swoon.  As this was a
time when everybody had his own life to think of, nobody minded me, or
what was become of me; but another man stepped up to the pump, and
thrusting me aside with his foot, let me lie, thinking I had been dead;
and it was a great while before I came to myself.

We worked on; but the water increasing in the hold, it was apparent that
the ship would founder; and though the storm began to abate a little, yet
it was not possible she could swim till we might run into any port; so
the master continued firing guns for help; and a light ship, who had rid
it out just ahead of us, ventured a boat out to help us.  It was with the
utmost hazard the boat came near us; but it was impossible for us to get
on board, or for the boat to lie near the ship's side, till at last the
men rowing very heartily, and venturing their lives to save ours, our men
cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and then veered it out
a great length, which they, after much labour and hazard, took hold of,
and we hauled them close under our stern, and got all into their boat.
It was to no purpose for them or us, after we were in the boat, to think
of reaching their own ship; so all agreed to let her drive, and only to
pull her in towards shore as much as we could; and our master promised
them, that if the boat was staved upon shore, he would make it good to
their master: so partly rowing and partly driving, our boat went away to
the northward, sloping towards the shore almost as far as Winterton Ness.

We were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship till we
saw her sink, and then I understood for the first time what was meant by
a ship foundering in the sea.  I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes to
look up when the seamen told me she was sinking; for from the moment that
they rather put me into the boat than that I might be said to go in, my
heart was, as it were, dead within me, partly with fright, partly with
horror of mind, and the thoughts of what was yet before me.

While we were in this condition—the men yet labouring at the oar to bring
the boat near the shore—we could see (when, our boat mounting the waves,
we were able to see the shore) a great many people running along the
strand to assist us when we should come near; but we made but slow way
towards the shore; nor were we able to reach the shore till, being past
the lighthouse at Winterton, the shore falls off to the westward towards
Cromer, and so the land broke off a little the violence of the wind.
Here we got in, and though not without much difficulty, got all safe on
shore, and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth, where, as unfortunate
men, we were used with great humanity, as well by the magistrates of the
town, who assigned us good quarters, as by particular merchants and
owners of ships, and had money given us sufficient to carry us either to
London or back to Hull as we thought fit.

Had I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home, I
had been happy, and my father, as in our blessed Saviour's parable, had
even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the ship I went away in
was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great while before he had any
assurances that I was not drowned.

But my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing could
resist; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my
more composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it.  I know
not what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling
decree, that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own destruction,
even though it be before us, and that we rush upon it with our eyes open.
Certainly, nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery, which it was
impossible for me to escape, could have pushed me forward against the
calm reasonings and persuasions of my most retired thoughts, and against
two such visible instructions as I had met with in my first attempt.

My comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the master's
son, was now less forward than I.  The first time he spoke to me after we
were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three days, for we were
separated in the town to several quarters; I say, the first time he saw
me, it appeared his tone was altered; and, looking very melancholy, and
shaking his head, he asked me how I did, and telling his father who I
was, and how I had come this voyage only for a trial, in order to go
further abroad, his father, turning to me with a very grave and concerned
tone "Young man," says he, "you ought never to go to sea any more; you
ought to take this for a plain and visible token that you are not to be a
seafaring man."  "Why, sir," said I, "will you go to sea no more?"  "That
is another case," said he; "it is my calling, and therefore my duty; but
as you made this voyage on trial, you see what a taste Heaven has given
you of what you are to expect if you persist.  Perhaps this has all
befallen us on your account, like Jonah in the ship of Tarshish.  Pray,"
continues he, "what are you; and on what account did you go to sea?"
Upon that I told him some of my story; at the end of which he burst out
into a strange kind of passion: "What had I done," says he, "that such an
unhappy wretch should come into my ship?  I would not set my foot in the
same ship with thee again for a thousand pounds."  This indeed was, as I
said, an excursion of his spirits, which were yet agitated by the sense
of his loss, and was farther than he could have authority to go.
However, he afterwards talked very gravely to me, exhorting me to go back
to my father, and not tempt Providence to my ruin, telling me I might see
a visible hand of Heaven against me.  "And, young man," said he, "depend
upon it, if you do not go back, wherever you go, you will meet with
nothing but disasters and disappointments, till your father's words are
fulfilled upon you."

We parted soon after; for I made him little answer, and I saw him no
more; which way he went I knew not.  As for me, having some money in my
pocket, I travelled to London by land; and there, as well as on the road,
had many struggles with myself what course of life I should take, and
whether I should go home or to sea.

As to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my
thoughts, and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at
among the neighbours, and should be ashamed to see, not my father and
mother only, but even everybody else; from whence I have since often
observed, how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind is,
especially of youth, to that reason which ought to guide them in such
cases—viz. that they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed to
repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be
esteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make
them be esteemed wise men.

In this state of life, however, I remained some time, uncertain what
measures to take, and what course of life to lead.  An irresistible
reluctance continued to going home; and as I stayed away a while, the
remembrance of the distress I had been in wore off, and as that abated,
the little motion I had in my desires to return wore off with it, till at
last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, and looked out for a voyage.