In the month of March of the sixth year of my confinement I experienced one of the most tremendous storms that was perhaps ever witnessed by man.  It commenced at about nine in the evening, with the approach of black clouds and a freshening wind from the south-west, which, by eleven, had become a hurricane, attended with incessant peals of thunder and the sharpest lightning I had ever witnessed.

I was not without apprehension for the safety of the island.  Over every part the seas made a clean breach, except of the summit of my pyramid.  There the life was nigh beaten and suffocated out of my body by the drive of the wind and spray.  I could not but be sensible that my existence was spared solely because of my diligence in erecting the pyramid and so doubling the stature of the island.

Yet, in the morning, I had great reason for thankfulness.  All my saved rainwater was turned brackish, save that in my largest vessel which was sheltered in the lee of the pyramid.  By careful economy I knew I had drink sufficient until the next rain, no matter how delayed, should fall.  My hut was quite washed out by the seas, and of my great store of seal meat only a wretched, pulpy modicum remained.  Nevertheless I was agreeably surprised to find the rocks plentifully distributed with a sort of fish more nearly like the mullet than any I had ever observed.  Of these I picked up no less than twelve hundred and nineteen, which I split and cured in the sun after the manner of cod.  This welcome change of diet was not without its consequence.  I was guilty of gluttony, and for all of the succeeding night I was near to death’s door.

In the seventh year of my stay on the island, in the very same month of March, occurred a similar storm of great violence.  Following upon it, to my astonishment, I found an enormous dead whale, quite fresh, which had been cast up high and dry by the waves.  Conceive my gratification when in the bowels of the great fish I found deeply imbedded a harpoon of the common sort with a few fathoms of new line attached thereto.

Thus were my hopes again revived that I should finally meet with an opportunity to quit the desolate island.  Beyond doubt these seas were frequented by whalemen, and, so long as I kept up a stout heart, sooner or later I should be saved.  For seven years I had lived on seal meat, so that at sight of the enormous plentitude of different and succulent food I fell a victim to my weakness and ate of such quantities that once again I was well nigh to dying.  And yet, after all, this, and the affair of the small fish, were mere indispositions due to the foreignness of the food to my stomach, which had learned to prosper on seal meat and on nothing but seal meat.

Of that one whale I preserved a full year’s supply of provision.  Also, under the sun’s rays, in the rock hollows, I tried out much of the oil, which, with the addition of salt, was a welcome thing in which to dip my strips of seal-meat whilst dining.  Out of my precious rags of shirts I could even have contrived a wick, so that, with the harpoon for steel and rock for flint, I might have had a light at night.  But it was a vain thing, and I speedily forwent the thought of it.  I had no need for light when God’s darkness descended, for I had schooled myself to sleep from sundown to sunrise, winter and summer.