He had been religiously and strictly brought up by his father, a Scotch Puritan, but he had broken loose from the restraints which his parents sought to throw around him, and had led, if not a vicious, at least an irreligious life, without thought of God, or of the lessons of truth and goodness which he had been taught. Yet his conscience was not so hardened that he could be happy in this neglect of God, and he felt ill at ease, dissatisfied with himself, and with all around him. He shrank, too, from the prospect of the voyage to England in a vessel but half repaired, exaggerating to his own mind the perils before him, and fearful of his own temper with his hard and prejudiced commander. Weighing all these things, he determined on asking the captain to set him on shore, that he might wait at Juan Fernandez the passing of some other ship in which he might return home. The captain agreed to this proposal willingly enough, glad to dismiss from his crew so insubordinate a sailor; and just before the _Clinque Ports_ was about to weigh anchor, the adventurous seaman was sent on shore with the few things that belonged to him. He sprang from the boat almost before her keel had grazed the sand, wishing to appear gay and brave to his companions; but no sooner did the splash of oars begin to grow faint and distant, and the faces of the boatmen indistinct as they neared the ship, than all his courage forsook him. With outstretched hands, and frantic words and gestures, he implored them to return, promising to bear everything, to risk everything, if only he might not be left alone on the lonely island. But he cried in vain; the boat reached the ship, the men climbed on board, the sails were hoisted, and there on his sea-chest, sat the lonely sailor, gazing over the wide ocean, on which nothing but the lessening speck of white on the far horizon reminded him of the existence of any human being but himself. Days passed almost uncounted, for in his desolate misery Alexander Selkirk had but one thought left--the longing desire of rescue and return home. He valued the daylight only because by its aid he could watch for a sail on the wide, silent sea; he dreaded the coming on of the night, chiefly because it shut him off for a time from his one employment. During these dreary days or weeks he never tasted food, save when driven to look for it by pangs of sharpest hunger, and even then he would not leave the beach, but fed on shell-fish picked up on the rocks, or sometimes on the flesh of seals.