Starting from Robinson Crusoe-Chapter 50 - 18: A Night on the Island (Part 2)

Chapter 50: Chapter 18: A Night on the Island (Part 2)
The main trunk had been cut down, and Chen Zhou drew his Long Saber, beginning to clear away the fine branches.
Bunches of chaotic foliage were tossed aside, the fresh scent of the tree sap spreading, attracting a swarm of flies and insects, greedily perched on the tree wounds to suck the sap.
The riverbank’s hunter—the dragonfly, also joined this feast, spreading its transparent wings, resembling a squadron of fighter jets, soaring among the insects, hunting fiercely.
The clearing was quickly cleaned up.
It was already quite dark, and Lai Fu, tired of playing, took a few sips of water from the river, lay down on the grass to rest, occasionally wagging his tail to drive away the numerous small flying insects by the riverbank.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Chen Zhou looked at the wind-blown leaves tilting eastward, knowing he wouldn’t return to the ship tonight. He used the Long Saber to dig a shallow pit in the grass, intending to make a fire later to boil some hot water to drink.
Afterwards, he reorganized the first batch of supplies, taking out planks and nails to nail a simple triangular frame, covering it with canvas.
During this time, he occasionally glanced back at the raft moored by the riverbank, worried that the unanchored raft might be carried away by the river.
The river, unlike the powerful tides, was quite wide here, and the current was relatively gentle, so the raft didn’t move, putting Chen Zhou at ease.
Once the shelter was completed, Chen Zhou put the rain-fearing supplies inside and began unloading the raft.
The hundred-meter distance wasn’t far, but the supply boxes were quite heavy.
After moving several times, Chen Zhou couldn’t help but think of making a cart, which would not only save effort but also allow him to transport two or three boxes at a time, improving efficiency.
Initially, he thought about using the lids of barrels as wheels, drilling holes in the center of the lids, then inserting axles and mounting the cart body on the axles to make a simple flatbed cart.
But after examining the barrel lids, Chen Zhou abandoned this idea.
The barrel lids on the ship weren’t very sturdy, and having been exposed to the moist sea air for years, the structure had been corroded by moisture, weakening their strength.
If he used barrel lids as wheels, they wouldn’t be durable and would need to be frequently replaced, wasting a lot of time.
After much consideration, the easiest way was to find a solid large plank, drill two holes at the front end, then tie a rope to drag it.
The riverbank was muddy, and the grassy slopes had little friction, so although dragging it wasn’t as labor-saving as a wheeled cart, it could still pull several crates at once, resulting in a similar outcome.
As for where to find a sturdy large plank, Chen Zhou already had the perfect "candidate."
The door from Robinson’s cabin, removed during the dismantling of the corridor wall, was solid and heavy, having been idle for several days, and could finally be put to use now.
For now, he would use this makeshift flatbed cart for a few days. Once all the important supplies were moved onto the island, he would look for a sturdy tree, cut the trunk horizontally to make a few wheels for future use.
Excavating the foundation, digging pits, reclaiming land, making pottery...
The cart could play a role in many tasks. If time allowed, Chen Zhou even considered dismantling a few matchlock guns, using the barrels as durable axles, extending the cart’s lifespan.
Thinking about the promising future, Chen Zhou was motivated to work.
But the forest light was dimming, and the crates blocked his view during transportation. To avoid injury, he had to slow his pace, cautiously moving forward.
The evening breeze gently cooled his sweat-soaked body as he controlled his strength, pushing the last crate into the shelter, then sat on the grass.
At this moment, the sun had hidden all its light, passing the baton to the stars and the bright moon which hung high in the sky illuminating the riverbank.
The croaking of frogs, accompanied by the call of insects, echoed among the wild grass.
Chen Zhou inserted two long oars into the riverbed at the front and back of the raft, preventing the raft from being taken by the river during the night, then walked towards the shelter by the moonlight.
"Tonight, I can only sleep in the wild," he said.
Taking a fire steel from his bosom, while collecting relatively dry dead branches and leaves from the forest, Chen Zhou talked to himself.
He was a man with a delicate mind, usually thinking more than others.
When working at the cement factory, aside from leaders, there were only coworkers around him, with whom he was not well acquainted, let alone understanding their temperaments. He usually spoke little for fear of unknowingly offending others’ taboos.
Because of his reticent demeanor, even the workers in the neighboring dormitory were not very close to him; he was always left out when calling for companions to dine at the cafeteria.
In the dust-choked factory, old workers often argued with leadership over pay dissatisfaction, and the young couldn’t bear the patronizing attitude of the senior workers.
Their hasty blue-gray overalls and the ever-hovering fine particles made the factory seem like an aging machine, exuding an air of decay.
Only at home, when he was with his parents, did Chen Zhou speak more.
On this deserted island, he no longer needed to care about others’ opinions; he could shout if he wanted, cry out if he wished, say whatever he pleased, yet he had nothing to say.
It is said that if a person doesn’t speak for many years, their tongue will rust, and they’ll forget how to articulate.
Thinking about the upcoming twenty-eight years, Chen Zhou often told himself—
No matter if no one responds, you must try to communicate.
The mountains, the sea, the dawn and dusk rains, the sun, moon, and stars are all willing to listen to your voice.
Ching, ching...
Sparks glimmered at the fire steel’s edge, occasionally dropping bright sparks.
The damp pit was covered with twigs and leaves, and the dry sawdust tinder was squeezed into a ball, placed in the center of the fuel.
Sparks fell in, making the sawdust flicker, producing a smoke so fine it was barely visible.
Chen Zhou squatted down, seeing the smoke, hurriedly lay down, like a hungry toad, brought his head close to the sawdust, and carefully blew on it with his mouth.