But while he devotes himself to this task, the raft, obedient to a mysterious motion of the sea, has slowly drifted on; the surface is covered with foam, as if sub-marine waves are lashing it.

Selkirk springs to the helm; the tiller breaks in his hands; he seizes the oars, they also break.

An unknown force hurries him on.

He has just fallen into one of those rapid currents which, from north to south, traverse the waters of the Pacific Ocean.
Borne away in a contrary direction from that which he has hitherto pursued, the land of which he had come in search seems to fly before him.

Whither is he going?
Into what regions, into what solitudes of the sea is he to be carried, far from islands and continents?
To add to his terror, in these latitudes, where day suddenly succeeds to night and night to day, where twilight is unknown, the sun, just now shining brightly, suddenly sinks below the horizon.
In the midst of profound darkness, the unhappy man pursues this fatal race, leading to inevitable destruction.