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<h2>
<a href="#startoftext">The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe</a>
</h2>
<pre>
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, by
Daniel Defoe


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org





Title: The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe


Author: Daniel Defoe



Release Date: January 18, 2007  [eBook #561]
Last updated: February 25, 2012

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE***
</pre>
<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
<p>Transcribed from the 1919 Seeley, Sevice &amp; Co edition by
David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
<h1>THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE</h1>
<h2>CHAPTER I&mdash;REVISITS ISLAND</h2>
<p>That homely proverb, used on so many occasions in England,
viz. &ldquo;That what is bred in the bone will not go out of the
flesh,&rdquo; was never more verified than in the story of my
Life.&nbsp; Any one would think that after thirty-five
years&rsquo; affliction, and a variety of unhappy circumstances,
which few men, if any, ever went through before, and after near
seven years of peace and enjoyment in the fulness of all things;
grown old, and when, if ever, it might be allowed me to have had
experience of every state of middle life, and to know which was
most adapted to make a man completely happy; I say, after all
this, any one would have thought that the native propensity to
rambling which I gave an account of in my first setting out in
the world to have been so predominant in my thoughts, should be
worn out, and I might, at sixty one years of age, have been a
little inclined to stay at home, and have done venturing life and
fortune any more.</p>
<p>Nay, farther, the common motive of foreign adventures was
taken away in me, for I had no fortune to make; I had nothing to
seek: if I had gained ten thousand pounds I had been no richer;
for I had already sufficient for me, and for those I had to leave
it to; and what I had was visibly increasing; for, having no
great family, I could not spend the income of what I had unless I
would set up for an expensive way of living, such as a great
family, servants, equipage, gaiety, and the like, which were
things I had no notion of, or inclination to; so that I had
nothing, indeed, to do but to sit still, and fully enjoy what I
had got, and see it increase daily upon my hands.&nbsp; Yet all
these things had no effect upon me, or at least not enough to
resist the strong inclination I had to go abroad again, which
hung about me like a chronic distemper.&nbsp; In particular, the
desire of seeing my new plantation in the island, and the colony
I left there, ran in my head continually.&nbsp; I dreamed of it
all night, and my imagination ran upon it all day: it was
uppermost in all my thoughts, and my fancy worked so steadily and
strongly upon it that I talked of it in my sleep; in short,
nothing could remove it out of my mind: it even broke so
violently into all my discourses that it made my conversation
tiresome, for I could talk of nothing else; all my discourse ran
into it, even to impertinence; and I saw it myself.</p>
<p>I have often heard persons of good judgment say that all the
stir that people make in the world about ghosts and apparitions
is owing to the strength of imagination, and the powerful
operation of fancy in their minds; that there is no such thing as
a spirit appearing, or a ghost walking; that people&rsquo;s
poring affectionately upon the past conversation of their
deceased friends so realises it to them that they are capable of
fancying, upon some extraordinary circumstances, that they see
them, talk to them, and are answered by them, when, in truth,
there is nothing but shadow and vapour in the thing, and they
really know nothing of the matter.</p>
<p>For my part, I know not to this hour whether there are any
such things as real apparitions, spectres, or walking of people
after they are dead; or whether there is anything in the stories
they tell us of that kind more than the product of vapours, sick
minds, and wandering fancies: but this I know, that my
imagination worked up to such a height, and brought me into such
excess of vapours, or what else I may call it, that I actually
supposed myself often upon the spot, at my old castle, behind the
trees; saw my old Spaniard, Friday&rsquo;s father, and the
reprobate sailors I left upon the island; nay, I fancied I talked
with them, and looked at them steadily, though I was broad awake,
as at persons just before me; and this I did till I often
frightened myself with the images my fancy represented to
me.&nbsp; One time, in my sleep, I had the villainy of the three
pirate sailors so lively related to me by the first Spaniard, and
Friday&rsquo;s father, that it was surprising: they told me how
they barbarously attempted to murder all the Spaniards, and that
they set fire to the provisions they had laid up, on purpose to
distress and starve them; things that I had never heard of, and
that, indeed, were never all of them true in fact: but it was so
warm in my imagination, and so realised to me, that, to the hour
I saw them, I could not be persuaded but that it was or would be
true; also how I resented it, when the Spaniard complained to me;
and how I brought them to justice, tried them, and ordered them
all three to be hanged.&nbsp; What there was really in this shall
be seen in its place; for however I came to form such things in
my dream, and what secret converse of spirits injected it, yet
there was, I say, much of it true.&nbsp; I own that this dream
had nothing in it literally and specifically true; but the
general part was so true&mdash;the base; villainous behaviour of
these three hardened rogues was such, and had been so much worse
than all I can describe, that the dream had too much similitude
of the fact; and as I would afterwards have punished them
severely, so, if I had hanged them all, I had been much in the
right, and even should have been justified both by the laws of
God and man.</p>
<p>But to return to my story.&nbsp; In this kind of temper I
lived some years; I had no enjoyment of my life, no pleasant
hours, no agreeable diversion but what had something or other of
this in it; so that my wife, who saw my mind wholly bent upon it,
told me very seriously one night that she believed there was some
secret, powerful impulse of Providence upon me, which had
determined me to go thither again; and that she found nothing
hindered me going but my being engaged to a wife and
children.&nbsp; She told me that it was true she could not think
of parting with me: but as she was assured that if she was dead
it would be the first thing I would do, so, as it seemed to her
that the thing was determined above, she would not be the only
obstruction; for, if I thought fit and resolved to go&mdash;[Here
she found me very intent upon her words, and that I looked very
earnestly at her, so that it a little disordered her, and she
stopped.&nbsp; I asked her why she did not go on, and say out
what she was going to say?&nbsp; But I perceived that her heart
was too full, and some tears stood in her eyes.]&nbsp;
&ldquo;Speak out, my dear,&rdquo; said I; &ldquo;are you willing
I should go?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,&rdquo; says she, very
affectionately, &ldquo;I am far from willing; but if you are
resolved to go,&rdquo; says she, &ldquo;rather than I would be
the only hindrance, I will go with you: for though I think it a
most preposterous thing for one of your years, and in your
condition, yet, if it must be,&rdquo; said she, again weeping,
&ldquo;I would not leave you; for if it be of Heaven you must do
it, there is no resisting it; and if Heaven make it your duty to
go, He will also make it mine to go with you, or otherwise
dispose of me, that I may not obstruct it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>This affectionate behaviour of my wife&rsquo;s brought me a
little out of the vapours, and I began to consider what I was
doing; I corrected my wandering fancy, and began to argue with
myself sedately what business I had after threescore years, and
after such a life of tedious sufferings and disasters, and closed
in so happy and easy a manner; I, say, what business had I to
rush into new hazards, and put myself upon adventures fit only
for youth and poverty to run into?</p>
<p>With those thoughts I considered my new engagement; that I had
a wife, one child born, and my wife then great with child of
another; that I had all the world could give me, and had no need
to seek hazard for gain; that I was declining in years, and ought
to think rather of leaving what I had gained than of seeking to
increase it; that as to what my wife had said of its being an
impulse from Heaven, and that it should be my duty to go, I had
no notion of that; so, after many of these cogitations, I
struggled with the power of my imagination, reasoned myself out
of it, as I believe people may always do in like cases if they
will: in a word, I conquered it, composed myself with such
arguments as occurred to my thoughts, and which my present
condition furnished me plentifully with; and particularly, as the
most effectual method, I resolved to divert myself with other
things, and to engage in some business that might effectually tie
me up from any more excursions of this kind; for I found that
thing return upon me chiefly when I was idle, and had nothing to
do, nor anything of moment immediately before me.&nbsp; To this
purpose, I bought a little farm in the county of Bedford, and
resolved to remove myself thither.&nbsp; I had a little
convenient house upon it, and the land about it, I found, was
capable of great improvement; and it was many ways suited to my
inclination, which delighted in cultivating, managing, planting,
and improving of land; and particularly, being an inland country,
I was removed from conversing among sailors and things relating
to the remote parts of the world.&nbsp; I went down to my farm,
settled my family, bought ploughs, harrows, a cart,
waggon-horses, cows, and sheep, and, setting seriously to work,
became in one half-year a mere country gentleman.&nbsp; My
thoughts were entirely taken up in managing my servants,
cultivating the ground, enclosing, planting, &amp;c.; and I
lived, as I thought, the most agreeable life that nature was
capable of directing, or that a man always bred to misfortunes
was capable of retreating to.</p>
<p>I farmed upon my own land; I had no rent to pay, was limited
by no articles; I could pull up or cut down as I pleased; what I
planted was for myself, and what I improved was for my family;
and having thus left off the thoughts of wandering, I had not the
least discomfort in any part of life as to this world.&nbsp; Now
I thought, indeed, that I enjoyed the middle state of life which
my father so earnestly recommended to me, and lived a kind of
heavenly life, something like what is described by the poet, upon
the subject of a country life:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Free from vices, free from care,<br />
Age has no pain, and youth no snare.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unseen
Providence unhinged me at once; and not only made a breach upon
me inevitable and incurable, but drove me, by its consequences,
into a deep relapse of the wandering disposition, which, as I may
say, being born in my very blood, soon recovered its hold of me;
and, like the returns of a violent distemper, came on with an
irresistible force upon me.&nbsp; This blow was the loss of my
wife.&nbsp; It is not my business here to write an elegy upon my
wife, give a character of her particular virtues, and make my
court to the sex by the flattery of a funeral sermon.&nbsp; She
was, in a few words, the stay of all my affairs; the centre of
all my enterprises; the engine that, by her prudence, reduced me
to that happy compass I was in, from the most extravagant and
ruinous project that filled my head, and did more to guide my
rambling genius than a mother&rsquo;s tears, a father&rsquo;s
instructions, a friend&rsquo;s counsel, or all my own reasoning
powers could do.&nbsp; I was happy in listening to her, and in
being moved by her entreaties; and to the last degree desolate
and dislocated in the world by the loss of her.</p>
<p>When she was gone, the world looked awkwardly round me.&nbsp;
I was as much a stranger in it, in my thoughts, as I was in the
Brazils, when I first went on shore there; and as much alone,
except for the assistance of servants, as I was in my
island.&nbsp; I knew neither what to think nor what to do.&nbsp;
I saw the world busy around me: one part labouring for bread,
another part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, but
equally miserable because the end they proposed still fled from
them; for the men of pleasure every day surfeited of their vice,
and heaped up work for sorrow and repentance; and the men of
labour spent their strength in daily struggling for bread to
maintain the vital strength they laboured with: so living in a
daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work, and working but
to live, as if daily bread were the only end of wearisome life,
and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.</p>
<p>This put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom, the
island; where I suffered no more corn to grow, because I did not
want it; and bred no more goats, because I had no more use for
them; where the money lay in the drawer till it grew mouldy, and
had scarce the favour to be looked upon in twenty years.&nbsp;
All these things, had I improved them as I ought to have done,
and as reason and religion had dictated to me, would have taught
me to search farther than human enjoyments for a full felicity;
and that there was something which certainly was the reason and
end of life superior to all these things, and which was either to
be possessed, or at least hoped for, on this side of the
grave.</p>
<p>But my sage counsellor was gone; I was like a ship without a
pilot, that could only run afore the wind.&nbsp; My thoughts ran
all away again into the old affair; my head was quite turned with
the whimsies of foreign adventures; and all the pleasant,
innocent amusements of my farm, my garden, my cattle, and my
family, which before entirely possessed me, were nothing to me,
had no relish, and were like music to one that has no ear, or
food to one that has no taste.&nbsp; In a word, I resolved to
leave off housekeeping, let my farm, and return to London; and in
a few months after I did so.</p>
<p>When I came to London, I was still as uneasy as I was before;
I had no relish for the place, no employment in it, nothing to do
but to saunter about like an idle person, of whom it may be said
he is perfectly useless in God&rsquo;s creation, and it is not
one farthing&rsquo;s matter to the rest of his kind whether he be
dead or alive.&nbsp; This also was the thing which, of all
circumstances of life, was the most my aversion, who had been all
my days used to an active life; and I would often say to myself,
&ldquo;A state of idleness is the very dregs of life;&rdquo; and,
indeed, I thought I was much more suitably employed when I was
twenty-six days making a deal board.</p>
<p>It was now the beginning of the year 1693, when my nephew,
whom, as I have observed before, I had brought up to the sea, and
had made him commander of a ship, was come home from a short
voyage to Bilbao, being the first he had made.&nbsp; He came to
me, and told me that some merchants of his acquaintance had been
proposing to him to go a voyage for them to the East Indies, and
to China, as private traders.&nbsp; &ldquo;And now, uncle,&rdquo;
says he, &ldquo;if you will go to sea with me, I will engage to
land you upon your old habitation in the island; for we are to
touch at the Brazils.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Nothing can be a greater demonstration of a future state, and
of the existence of an invisible world, than the concurrence of
second causes with the idea of things which we form in our minds,
perfectly reserved, and not communicated to any in the world.</p>
<p>My nephew knew nothing how far my distemper of wandering was
returned upon me, and I knew nothing of what he had in his
thought to say, when that very morning, before he came to me, I
had, in a great deal of confusion of thought, and revolving every
part of my circumstances in my mind, come to this resolution,
that I would go to Lisbon, and consult with my old sea-captain;
and if it was rational and practicable, I would go and see the
island again, and what was become of my people there.&nbsp; I had
pleased myself with the thoughts of peopling the place, and
carrying inhabitants from hence, getting a patent for the
possession and I know not what; when, in the middle of all this,
in comes my nephew, as I have said, with his project of carrying
me thither in his way to the East Indies.</p>
<p>I paused a while at his words, and looking steadily at him,
&ldquo;What devil,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;sent you on this unlucky
errand?&rdquo;&nbsp; My nephew stared as if he had been
frightened at first; but perceiving that I was not much
displeased at the proposal, he recovered himself.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
hope it may not be an unlucky proposal, sir,&rdquo; says
he.&nbsp; &ldquo;I daresay you would be pleased to see your new
colony there, where you once reigned with more felicity than most
of your brother monarchs in the world.&rdquo;&nbsp; In a word,
the scheme hit so exactly with my temper, that is to say, the
prepossession I was under, and of which I have said so much, that
I told him, in a few words, if he agreed with the merchants, I
would go with him; but I told him I would not promise to go any
further than my own island.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, sir,&rdquo; says
he, &ldquo;you don&rsquo;t want to be left there again, I
hope?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;can you not
take me up again on your return?&rdquo;&nbsp; He told me it would
not be possible to do so; that the merchants would never allow
him to come that way with a laden ship of such value, it being a
month&rsquo;s sail out of his way, and might be three or
four.&nbsp; &ldquo;Besides, sir, if I should miscarry,&rdquo;
said he, &ldquo;and not return at all, then you would be just
reduced to the condition you were in before.&rdquo;</p>
<p>This was very rational; but we both found out a remedy for it,
which was to carry a framed sloop on board the ship, which, being
taken in pieces, might, by the help of some carpenters, whom we
agreed to carry with us, be set up again in the island, and
finished fit to go to sea in a few days.&nbsp; I was not long
resolving, for indeed the importunities of my nephew joined so
effectually with my inclination that nothing could oppose me; on
the other hand, my wife being dead, none concerned themselves so
much for me as to persuade me one way or the other, except my
ancient good friend the widow, who earnestly struggled with me to
consider my years, my easy circumstances, and the needless
hazards of a long voyage; and above all, my young children.&nbsp;
But it was all to no purpose, I had an irresistible desire for
the voyage; and I told her I thought there was something so
uncommon in the impressions I had upon my mind, that it would be
a kind of resisting Providence if I should attempt to stay at
home; after which she ceased her expostulations, and joined with
me, not only in making provision for my voyage, but also in
settling my family affairs for my absence, and providing for the
education of my children.&nbsp; In order to do this, I made my
will, and settled the estate I had in such a manner for my
children, and placed in such hands, that I was perfectly easy and
satisfied they would have justice done them, whatever might
befall me; and for their education, I left it wholly to the
widow, with a sufficient maintenance to herself for her care: all
which she richly deserved; for no mother could have taken more
care in their education, or understood it better; and as she
lived till I came home, I also lived to thank her for it.</p>
<p>My nephew was ready to sail about the beginning of January
1694-5; and I, with my man Friday, went on board, in the Downs,
the 8th; having, besides that sloop which I mentioned above, a
very considerable cargo of all kinds of necessary things for my
colony, which, if I did not find in good condition, I resolved to
leave so.</p>
<p>First, I carried with me some servants whom I purposed to
place there as inhabitants, or at least to set on work there upon
my account while I stayed, and either to leave them there or
carry them forward, as they should appear willing; particularly,
I carried two carpenters, a smith, and a very handy, ingenious
fellow, who was a cooper by trade, and was also a general
mechanic; for he was dexterous at making wheels and hand-mills to
grind corn, was a good turner and a good pot-maker; he also made
anything that was proper to make of earth or of wood: in a word,
we called him our Jack-of-all-trades.&nbsp; With these I carried
a tailor, who had offered himself to go a passenger to the East
Indies with my nephew, but afterwards consented to stay on our
new plantation, and who proved a most necessary handy fellow as
could be desired in many other businesses besides that of his
trade; for, as I observed formerly, necessity arms us for all
employments.</p>
<p>My cargo, as near as I can recollect, for I have not kept
account of the particulars, consisted of a sufficient quantity of
linen, and some English thin stuffs, for clothing the Spaniards
that I expected to find there; and enough of them, as by my
calculation might comfortably supply them for seven years; if I
remember right, the materials I carried for clothing them, with
gloves, hats, shoes, stockings, and all such things as they could
want for wearing, amounted to about two hundred pounds, including
some beds, bedding, and household stuff, particularly kitchen
utensils, with pots, kettles, pewter, brass, &amp;c.; and near a
hundred pounds more in ironwork, nails, tools of every kind,
staples, hooks, hinges, and every necessary thing I could think
of.</p>
<p>I carried also a hundred spare arms, muskets, and fusees;
besides some pistols, a considerable quantity of shot of all
sizes, three or four tons of lead, and two pieces of brass
cannon; and, because I knew not what time and what extremities I
was providing for, I carried a hundred barrels of powder, besides
swords, cutlasses, and the iron part of some pikes and
halberds.&nbsp; In short, we had a large magazine of all sorts of
store; and I made my nephew carry two small quarter-deck guns
more than he wanted for his ship, to leave behind if there was
occasion; so that when we came there we might build a fort and
man it against all sorts of enemies.&nbsp; Indeed, I at first
thought there would be need enough for all, and much more, if we
hoped to maintain our possession of the island, as shall be seen
in the course of that story.</p>
<p>I had not such bad luck in this voyage as I had been used to
meet with, and therefore shall have the less occasion to
interrupt the reader, who perhaps may be impatient to hear how
matters went with my colony; yet some odd accidents, cross winds
and bad weather happened on this first setting out, which made
the voyage longer than I expected it at first; and I, who had
never made but one voyage, my first voyage to Guinea, in which I
might be said to come back again, as the voyage was at first
designed, began to think the same ill fate attended me, and that
I was born to be never contented with being on shore, and yet to
be always unfortunate at sea.&nbsp; Contrary winds first put us
to the northward, and we were obliged to put in at Galway, in
Ireland, where we lay wind-bound two-and-twenty days; but we had
this satisfaction with the disaster, that provisions were here
exceeding cheap, and in the utmost plenty; so that while we lay
here we never touched the ship&rsquo;s stores, but rather added
to them.&nbsp; Here, also, I took in several live hogs, and two
cows with their calves, which I resolved, if I had a good
passage, to put on shore in my island; but we found occasion to
dispose otherwise of them.</p>
<p>We set out on the 5th of February from Ireland, and had a very
fair gale of wind for some days.&nbsp; As I remember, it might be
about the 20th of February in the evening late, when the mate,
having the watch, came into the round-house and told us he saw a
flash of fire, and heard a gun fired; and while he was telling us
of it, a boy came in and told us the boatswain heard
another.&nbsp; This made us all run out upon the quarter-deck,
where for a while we heard nothing; but in a few minutes we saw a
very great light, and found that there was some very terrible
fire at a distance; immediately we had recourse to our
reckonings, in which we all agreed that there could be no land
that way in which the fire showed itself, no, not for five
hundred leagues, for it appeared at WNW.&nbsp; Upon this, we
concluded it must be some ship on fire at sea; and as, by our
hearing the noise of guns just before, we concluded that it could
not be far off, we stood directly towards it, and were presently
satisfied we should discover it, because the further we sailed,
the greater the light appeared; though, the weather being hazy,
we could not perceive anything but the light for a while.&nbsp;
In about half-an-hour&rsquo;s sailing, the wind being fair for
us, though not much of it, and the weather clearing up a little,
we could plainly discern that it was a great ship on fire in the
middle of the sea.</p>
<p>I was most sensibly touched with this disaster, though not at
all acquainted with the persons engaged in it; I presently
recollected my former circumstances, and what condition I was in
when taken up by the Portuguese captain; and how much more
deplorable the circumstances of the poor creatures belonging to
that ship must be, if they had no other ship in company with
them.&nbsp; Upon this I immediately ordered that five guns should
be fired, one soon after another, that, if possible, we might
give notice to them that there was help for them at hand and that
they might endeavour to save themselves in their boat; for though
we could see the flames of the ship, yet they, it being night,
could see nothing of us.</p>
<p>We lay by some time upon this, only driving as the burning
ship drove, waiting for daylight; when, on a sudden, to our great
terror, though we had reason to expect it, the ship blew up in
the air; and in a few minutes all the fire was out, that is to
say, the rest of the ship sunk.&nbsp; This was a terrible, and
indeed an afflicting sight, for the sake of the poor men, who, I
concluded, must be either all destroyed in the ship, or be in the
utmost distress in their boat, in the middle of the ocean; which,
at present, as it was dark, I could not see.&nbsp; However, to
direct them as well as I could, I caused lights to be hung out in
all parts of the ship where we could, and which we had lanterns
for, and kept firing guns all the night long, letting them know
by this that there was a ship not far off.</p>
<p>About eight o&rsquo;clock in the morning we discovered the
ship&rsquo;s boats by the help of our perspective glasses, and
found there were two of them, both thronged with people, and deep
in the water.&nbsp; We perceived they rowed, the wind being
against them; that they saw our ship, and did their utmost to
make us see them.&nbsp; We immediately spread our ancient, to let
them know we saw them, and hung a waft out, as a signal for them
to come on board, and then made more sail, standing directly to
them.&nbsp; In little more than half-an-hour we came up with
them; and took them all in, being no less than sixty-four men,
women, and children; for there were a great many passengers.</p>
<p>Upon inquiry we found it was a French merchant ship of
three-hundred tons, home-bound from Quebec.&nbsp; The master gave
us a long account of the distress of his ship; how the fire began
in the steerage by the negligence of the steersman, which, on his
crying out for help, was, as everybody thought, entirely put out;
but they soon found that some sparks of the first fire had got
into some part of the ship so difficult to come at that they
could not effectually quench it; and afterwards getting in
between the timbers, and within the ceiling of the ship, it
proceeded into the hold, and mastered all the skill and all the
application they were able to exert.</p>
<p>They had no more to do then but to get into their boats,
which, to their great comfort, were pretty large; being their
long-boat, and a great shallop, besides a small skiff, which was
of no great service to them, other than to get some fresh water
and provisions into her, after they had secured their lives from
the fire.&nbsp; They had, indeed, small hopes of their lives by
getting into these boats at that distance from any land; only, as
they said, that they thus escaped from the fire, and there was a
possibility that some ship might happen to be at sea, and might
take them in.&nbsp; They had sails, oars, and a compass; and had
as much provision and water as, with sparing it so as to be next
door to starving, might support them about twelve days, in which,
if they had no bad weather and no contrary winds, the captain
said he hoped he might get to the banks of Newfoundland, and
might perhaps take some fish, to sustain them till they might go
on shore.&nbsp; But there were so many chances against them in
all these cases, such as storms, to overset and founder them;
rains and cold, to benumb and perish their limbs; contrary winds,
to keep them out and starve them; that it must have been next to
miraculous if they had escaped.</p>
<p>In the midst of their consternation, every one being hopeless
and ready to despair, the captain, with tears in his eyes, told
me they were on a sudden surprised with the joy of hearing a gun
fire, and after that four more: these were the five guns which I
caused to be fired at first seeing the light.&nbsp; This revived
their hearts, and gave them the notice, which, as above, I
desired it should, that there was a ship at hand for their
help.&nbsp; It was upon the hearing of these guns that they took
down their masts and sails: the sound coming from the windward,
they resolved to lie by till morning.&nbsp; Some time after this,
hearing no more guns, they fired three muskets, one a
considerable while after another; but these, the wind being
contrary, we never heard.&nbsp; Some time after that again they
were still more agreeably surprised with seeing our lights, and
hearing the guns, which, as I have said, I caused to be fired all
the rest of the night.&nbsp; This set them to work with their
oars, to keep their boats ahead, at least that we might the
sooner come up with them; and at last, to their inexpressible
joy, they found we saw them.</p>
<p>It is impossible for me to express the several gestures, the
strange ecstasies, the variety of postures which these poor
delivered people ran into, to express the joy of their souls at
so unexpected a deliverance.&nbsp; Grief and fear are easily
described: sighs, tears, groans, and a very few motions of the
head and hands, make up the sum of its variety; but an excess of
joy, a surprise of joy, has a thousand extravagances in it.&nbsp;
There were some in tears; some raging and tearing themselves, as
if they had been in the greatest agonies of sorrow; some stark
raving and downright lunatic; some ran about the ship stamping
with their feet, others wringing their hands; some were dancing,
some singing, some laughing, more crying, many quite dumb, not
able to speak a word; others sick and vomiting; several swooning
and ready to faint; and a few were crossing themselves and giving
God thanks.</p>
<p>I would not wrong them either; there might be many that were
thankful afterwards; but the passion was too strong for them at
first, and they were not able to master it: then were thrown into
ecstasies, and a kind of frenzy, and it was but a very few that
were composed and serious in their joy.&nbsp; Perhaps also, the
case may have some addition to it from the particular
circumstance of that nation they belonged to: I mean the French,
whose temper is allowed to be more volatile, more passionate, and
more sprightly, and their spirits more fluid than in other
nations.&nbsp; I am not philosopher enough to determine the
cause; but nothing I had ever seen before came up to it.&nbsp;
The ecstasies poor Friday, my trusty savage, was in when he found
his father in the boat came the nearest to it; and the surprise
of the master and his two companions, whom I delivered from the
villains that set them on shore in the island, came a little way
towards it; but nothing was to compare to this, either that I saw
in Friday, or anywhere else in my life.</p>
<p>It is further observable, that these extravagances did not
show themselves in that different manner I have mentioned, in
different persons only; but all the variety would appear, in a
short succession of moments, in one and the same person.&nbsp; A
man that we saw this minute dumb, and, as it were, stupid and
confounded, would the next minute be dancing and hallooing like
an antic; and the next moment be tearing his hair, or pulling his
clothes to pieces, and stamping them under his feet like a
madman; in a few moments after that we would have him all in
tears, then sick, swooning, and, had not immediate help been had,
he would in a few moments have been dead.&nbsp; Thus it was, not
with one or two, or ten or twenty, but with the greatest part of
them; and, if I remember right, our surgeon was obliged to let
blood of about thirty persons.</p>
<p>There were two priests among them: one an old man, and the
other a young man; and that which was strangest was, the oldest
man was the worst.&nbsp; As soon as he set his foot on board our
ship, and saw himself safe, he dropped down stone dead to all
appearance.&nbsp; Not the least sign of life could be perceived
in him; our surgeon immediately applied proper remedies to
recover him, and was the only man in the ship that believed he
was not dead.&nbsp; At length he opened a vein in his arm, having
first chafed and rubbed the part, so as to warm it as much as
possible.&nbsp; Upon this the blood, which only dropped at first,
flowing freely, in three minutes after the man opened his eyes; a
quarter of an hour after that he spoke, grew better, and after
the blood was stopped, he walked about, told us he was perfectly
well, and took a dram of cordial which the surgeon gave
him.&nbsp; About a quarter of an hour after this they came
running into the cabin to the surgeon, who was bleeding a
Frenchwoman that had fainted, and told him the priest was gone
stark mad.&nbsp; It seems he had begun to revolve the change of
his circumstances in his mind, and again this put him into an
ecstasy of joy.&nbsp; His spirits whirled about faster than the
vessels could convey them, the blood grew hot and feverish, and
the man was as fit for Bedlam as any creature that ever was in
it.&nbsp; The surgeon would not bleed him again in that
condition, but gave him something to doze and put him to sleep;
which, after some time, operated upon him, and he awoke next
morning perfectly composed and well.&nbsp; The younger priest
behaved with great command of his passions, and was really an
example of a serious, well-governed mind.&nbsp; At his first
coming on board the ship he threw himself flat on his face,
prostrating himself in thankfulness for his deliverance, in which
I unhappily and unseasonably disturbed him, really thinking he
had been in a swoon; but he spoke calmly, thanked me, told me he
was giving God thanks for his deliverance, begged me to leave him
a few moments, and that, next to his Maker, he would give me
thanks also.&nbsp; I was heartily sorry that I disturbed him, and
not only left him, but kept others from interrupting him
also.&nbsp; He continued in that posture about three minutes, or
little more, after I left him, then came to me, as he had said he
would, and with a great deal of seriousness and affection, but
with tears in his eyes, thanked me, that had, under God, given
him and so many miserable creatures their lives.&nbsp; I told him
I had no need to tell him to thank God for it, rather than me,
for I had seen that he had done that already; but I added that it
was nothing but what reason and humanity dictated to all men, and
that we had as much reason as he to give thanks to God, who had
blessed us so far as to make us the instruments of His mercy to
so many of His creatures.&nbsp; After this the young priest
applied himself to his countrymen, and laboured to compose them:
he persuaded, entreated, argued, reasoned with them, and did his
utmost to keep them within the exercise of their reason; and with
some he had success, though others were for a time out of all
government of themselves.</p>
<p>I cannot help committing this to writing, as perhaps it may be
useful to those into whose hands it may fall, for guiding
themselves in the extravagances of their passions; for if an
excess of joy can carry men out to such a length beyond the reach
of their reason, what will not the extravagances of anger, rage,
and a provoked mind carry us to?&nbsp; And, indeed, here I saw
reason for keeping an exceeding watch over our passions of every
kind, as well those of joy and satisfaction as those of sorrow
and anger.</p>
<p>We were somewhat disordered by these extravagances among our
new guests for the first day; but after they had retired to
lodgings provided for them as well as our ship would allow, and
had slept heartily&mdash;as most of them did, being fatigued and
frightened&mdash;they were quite another sort of people the next
day.&nbsp; Nothing of good manners, or civil acknowledgments for
the kindness shown them, was wanting; the French, it is known,
are naturally apt enough to exceed that way.&nbsp; The captain
and one of the priests came to me the next day, and desired to
speak with me and my nephew; the commander began to consult with
us what should be done with them; and first, they told us we had
saved their lives, so all they had was little enough for a return
to us for that kindness received.&nbsp; The captain said they had
saved some money and some things of value in their boats, caught
hastily out of the flames, and if we would accept it they were
ordered to make an offer of it all to us; they only desired to be
set on shore somewhere in our way, where, if possible, they might
get a passage to France.&nbsp; My nephew wished to accept their
money at first word, and to consider what to do with them
afterwards; but I overruled him in that part, for I knew what it
was to be set on shore in a strange country; and if the
Portuguese captain that took me up at sea had served me so, and
taken all I had for my deliverance, I must have been starved, or
have been as much a slave at the Brazils as I had been at
Barbary, the mere being sold to a Mahometan excepted; and perhaps
a Portuguese is not a much better master than a Turk, if not in
some cases much worse.</p>
<p>I therefore told the French captain that we had taken them up
in their distress, it was true, but that it was our duty to do
so, as we were fellow-creatures; and we would desire to be so
delivered if we were in the like or any other extremity; that we
had done nothing for them but what we believed they would have
done for us if we had been in their case and they in ours; but
that we took them up to save them, not to plunder them; and it
would be a most barbarous thing to take that little from them
which they had saved out of the fire, and then set them on shore
and leave them; that this would be first to save them from death,
and then kill them ourselves: save them from drowning, and
abandon them to starving; and therefore I would not let the least
thing be taken from them.&nbsp; As to setting them on shore, I
told them indeed that was an exceeding difficulty to us, for that
the ship was bound to the East Indies; and though we were driven
out of our course to the westward a very great way, and perhaps
were directed by Heaven on purpose for their deliverance, yet it
was impossible for us wilfully to change our voyage on their
particular account; nor could my nephew, the captain, answer it
to the freighters, with whom he was under charter to pursue his
voyage by way of Brazil; and all I knew we could do for them was
to put ourselves in the way of meeting with other ships homeward
bound from the West Indies, and get them a passage, if possible,
to England or France.</p>
<p>The first part of the proposal was so generous and kind they
could not but be very thankful for it; but they were in very
great consternation, especially the passengers, at the notion of
being carried away to the East Indies; they then entreated me
that as I was driven so far to the westward before I met with
them, I would at least keep on the same course to the banks of
Newfoundland, where it was probable I might meet with some ship
or sloop that they might hire to carry them back to Canada.</p>
<p>I thought this was but a reasonable request on their part, and
therefore I inclined to agree to it; for indeed I considered that
to carry this whole company to the East Indies would not only be
an intolerable severity upon the poor people, but would be
ruining our whole voyage by devouring all our provisions; so I
thought it no breach of charter-party, but what an unforeseen
accident made absolutely necessary to us, and in which no one
could say we were to blame; for the laws of God and nature would
have forbid that we should refuse to take up two boats full of
people in such a distressed condition; and the nature of the
thing, as well respecting ourselves as the poor people, obliged
us to set them on shore somewhere or other for their
deliverance.&nbsp; So I consented that we would carry them to
Newfoundland, if wind and weather would permit: and if not, I
would carry them to Martinico, in the West Indies.</p>
<p>The wind continued fresh easterly, but the weather pretty
good; and as the winds had continued in the points between NE.
and SE. a long time, we missed several opportunities of sending
them to France; for we met several ships bound to Europe, whereof
two were French, from St. Christopher&rsquo;s, but they had been
so long beating up against the wind that they durst take in no
passengers, for fear of wanting provisions for the voyage, as
well for themselves as for those they should take in; so we were
obliged to go on.&nbsp; It was about a week after this that we
made the banks of Newfoundland; where, to shorten my story, we
put all our French people on board a bark, which they hired at
sea there, to put them on shore, and afterwards to carry them to
France, if they could get provisions to victual themselves
with.&nbsp; When I say all the French went on shore, I should
remember that the young priest I spoke of, hearing we were bound
to the East Indies, desired to go the voyage with us, and to be
set on shore on the coast of Coromandel; which I readily agreed
to, for I wonderfully liked the man, and had very good reason, as
will appear afterwards; also four of the seamen entered
themselves on our ship, and proved very useful fellows.</p>
<p>From hence we directed our course for the West Indies,
steering away S. and S. by E. for about twenty days together,
sometimes little or no wind at all; when we met with another
subject for our humanity to work upon, almost as deplorable as
that before.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER II&mdash;INTERVENING HISTORY OF COLONY</h2>
<p>It was in the latitude of 27 degrees 5 minutes N., on the 19th
day of March 1694-95, when we spied a sail, our course SE. and by
S.&nbsp; We soon perceived it was a large vessel, and that she
bore up to us, but could not at first know what to make of her,
till, after coming a little nearer, we found she had lost her
main-topmast, fore-mast, and bowsprit; and presently she fired a
gun as a signal of distress.&nbsp; The weather was pretty good,
wind at NNW. a fresh gale, and we soon came to speak with
her.&nbsp; We found her a ship of Bristol, bound home from
Barbadoes, but had been blown out of the road at Barbadoes a few
days before she was ready to sail, by a terrible hurricane, while
the captain and chief mate were both gone on shore; so that,
besides the terror of the storm, they were in an indifferent case
for good mariners to bring the ship home.&nbsp; They had been
already nine weeks at sea, and had met with another terrible
storm, after the hurricane was over, which had blown them quite
out of their knowledge to the westward, and in which they lost
their masts.&nbsp; They told us they expected to have seen the
Bahama Islands, but were then driven away again to the
south-east, by a strong gale of wind at NNW., the same that blew
now: and having no sails to work the ship with but a main course,
and a kind of square sail upon a jury fore-mast, which they had
set up, they could not lie near the wind, but were endeavouring
to stand away for the Canaries.</p>
<p>But that which was worst of all was, that they were almost
starved for want of provisions, besides the fatigues they had
undergone; their bread and flesh were quite gone&mdash;they had
not one ounce left in the ship, and had had none for eleven
days.&nbsp; The only relief they had was, their water was not all
spent, and they had about half a barrel of flour left; they had
sugar enough; some succades, or sweetmeats, they had at first,
but these were all devoured; and they had seven casks of
rum.&nbsp; There was a youth and his mother and a maid-servant on
board, who were passengers, and thinking the ship was ready to
sail, unhappily came on board the evening before the hurricane
began; and having no provisions of their own left, they were in a
more deplorable condition than the rest: for the seamen being
reduced to such an extreme necessity themselves, had no
compassion, we may be sure, for the poor passengers; and they
were, indeed, in such a condition that their misery is very hard
to describe.</p>
<p>I had perhaps not known this part, if my curiosity had not led
me, the weather being fair and the wind abated, to go on board
the ship.&nbsp; The second mate, who upon this occasion commanded
the ship, had been on board our ship, and he told me they had
three passengers in the great cabin that were in a deplorable
condition.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I believe
they are dead, for I have heard nothing of them for above two
days; and I was afraid to inquire after them,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;for I had nothing to relieve them with.&rdquo;&nbsp; We
immediately applied ourselves to give them what relief we could
spare; and indeed I had so far overruled things with my nephew,
that I would have victualled them though we had gone away to
Virginia, or any other part of the coast of America, to have
supplied ourselves; but there was no necessity for that.</p>
<p>But now they were in a new danger; for they were afraid of
eating too much, even of that little we gave them.&nbsp; The
mate, or commander, brought six men with him in his boat; but
these poor wretches looked like skeletons, and were so weak that
they could hardly sit to their oars.&nbsp; The mate himself was
very ill, and half starved; for he declared he had reserved
nothing from the men, and went share and share alike with them in
every bit they ate.&nbsp; I cautioned him to eat sparingly, and
set meat before him immediately, but he had not eaten three
mouthfuls before he began to be sick and out of order; so he
stopped a while, and our surgeon mixed him up something with some
broth, which he said would be to him both food and physic; and
after he had taken it he grew better.&nbsp; In the meantime I
forgot not the men.&nbsp; I ordered victuals to be given them,
and the poor creatures rather devoured than ate it: they were so
exceedingly hungry that they were in a manner ravenous, and had
no command of themselves; and two of them ate with so much
greediness that they were in danger of their lives the next
morning.&nbsp; The sight of these people&rsquo;s distress was
very moving to me, and brought to mind what I had a terrible
prospect of at my first coming on shore in my island, where I had
not the least mouthful of food, or any prospect of procuring any;
besides the hourly apprehensions I had of being made the food of
other creatures.&nbsp; But all the while the mate was thus
relating to me the miserable condition of the ship&rsquo;s
company, I could not put out of my thought the story he had told
me of the three poor creatures in the great cabin, viz. the
mother, her son, and the maid-servant, whom he had heard nothing
of for two or three days, and whom, he seemed to confess, they
had wholly neglected, their own extremities being so great; by
which I understood that they had really given them no food at
all, and that therefore they must be perished, and be all lying
dead, perhaps, on the floor or deck of the cabin.</p>
<p>As I therefore kept the mate, whom we then called captain, on
board with his men, to refresh them, so I also forgot not the
starving crew that were left on board, but ordered my own boat to
go on board the ship, and, with my mate and twelve men, to carry
them a sack of bread, and four or five pieces of beef to
boil.&nbsp; Our surgeon charged the men to cause the meat to be
boiled while they stayed, and to keep guard in the cook-room, to
prevent the men taking it to eat raw, or taking it out of the pot
before it was well boiled, and then to give every man but a very
little at a time: and by this caution he preserved the men, who
would otherwise have killed themselves with that very food that
was given them on purpose to save their lives.</p>
<p>At the same time I ordered the mate to go into the great
cabin, and see what condition the poor passengers were in; and if
they were alive, to comfort them, and give them what refreshment
was proper: and the surgeon gave him a large pitcher, with some
of the prepared broth which he had given the mate that was on
board, and which he did not question would restore them
gradually.&nbsp; I was not satisfied with this; but, as I said
above, having a great mind to see the scene of misery which I
knew the ship itself would present me with, in a more lively
manner than I could have it by report, I took the captain of the
ship, as we now called him, with me, and went myself, a little
after, in their boat.</p>
<p>I found the poor men on board almost in a tumult to get the
victuals out of the boiler before it was ready; but my mate
observed his orders, and kept a good guard at the cook-room door,
and the man he placed there, after using all possible persuasion
to have patience, kept them off by force; however, he caused some
biscuit-cakes to be dipped in the pot, and softened with the
liquor of the meat, which they called brewis, and gave them every
one some to stay their stomachs, and told them it was for their
own safety that he was obliged to give them but little at a
time.&nbsp; But it was all in vain; and had I not come on board,
and their own commander and officers with me, and with good
words, and some threats also of giving them no more, I believe
they would have broken into the cook-room by force, and torn the
meat out of the furnace&mdash;for words are indeed of very small
force to a hungry belly; however, we pacified them, and fed them
gradually and cautiously at first, and the next time gave them
more, and at last filled their bellies, and the men did well
enough.</p>
<p>But the misery of the poor passengers in the cabin was of
another nature, and far beyond the rest; for as, first, the
ship&rsquo;s company had so little for themselves, it was but too
true that they had at first kept them very low, and at last
totally neglected them: so that for six or seven days it might be
said they had really no food at all, and for several days before
very little.&nbsp; The poor mother, who, as the men reported, was
a woman of sense and good breeding, had spared all she could so
affectionately for her son, that at last she entirely sank under
it; and when the mate of our ship went in, she sat upon the floor
on deck, with her back up against the sides, between two chairs,
which were lashed fast, and her head sunk between her shoulders
like a corpse, though not quite dead.&nbsp; My mate said all he
could to revive and encourage her, and with a spoon put some
broth into her mouth.&nbsp; She opened her lips, and lifted up
one hand, but could not speak: yet she understood what he said,
and made signs to him, intimating, that it was too late for her,
but pointed to her child, as if she would have said they should
take care of him.&nbsp; However, the mate, who was exceedingly
moved at the sight, endeavoured to get some of the broth into her
mouth, and, as he said, got two or three spoonfuls
down&mdash;though I question whether he could be sure of it or
not; but it was too late, and she died the same night.</p>
<p>The youth, who was preserved at the price of his most
affectionate mother&rsquo;s life, was not so far gone; yet he lay
in a cabin bed, as one stretched out, with hardly any life left
in him.&nbsp; He had a piece of an old glove in his mouth, having
eaten up the rest of it; however, being young, and having more
strength than his mother, the mate got something down his throat,
and he began sensibly to revive; though by giving him, some time
after, but two or three spoonfuls extraordinary, he was very
sick, and brought it up again.</p>
<p>But the next care was the poor maid: she lay all along upon
the deck, hard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen
down in a fit of apoplexy, and struggled for life.&nbsp; Her
limbs were distorted; one of her hands was clasped round the
frame of the chair, and she gripped it so hard that we could not
easily make her let it go; her other arm lay over her head, and
her feet lay both together, set fast against the frame of the
cabin table: in short, she lay just like one in the agonies of
death, and yet she was alive too.&nbsp; The poor creature was not
only starved with hunger, and terrified with the thoughts of
death, but, as the men told us afterwards, was broken-hearted for
her mistress, whom she saw dying for two or three days before,
and whom she loved most tenderly.&nbsp; We knew not what to do
with this poor girl; for when our surgeon, who was a man of very
great knowledge and experience, had, with great application,
recovered her as to life, he had her upon his hands still; for
she was little less than distracted for a considerable time
after.</p>
<p>Whoever shall read these memorandums must be desired to
consider that visits at sea are not like a journey into the
country, where sometimes people stay a week or a fortnight at a
place.&nbsp; Our business was to relieve this distressed
ship&rsquo;s crew, but not lie by for them; and though they were
willing to steer the same course with us for some days, yet we
could carry no sail to keep pace with a ship that had no
masts.&nbsp; However, as their captain begged of us to help him
to set up a main-topmast, and a kind of a topmast to his jury
fore-mast, we did, as it were, lie by him for three or four days;
and then, having given him five barrels of beef, a barrel of
pork, two hogsheads of biscuit, and a proportion of peas, flour,
and what other things we could spare; and taking three casks of
sugar, some rum, and some pieces of eight from them for
satisfaction, we left them, taking on board with us, at their own
earnest request, the youth and the maid, and all their goods.</p>
<p>The young lad was about seventeen years of age, a pretty,
well-bred, modest, and sensible youth, greatly dejected with the
loss of his mother, and also at having lost his father but a few
months before, at Barbadoes.&nbsp; He begged of the surgeon to
speak to me to take him out of the ship; for he said the cruel
fellows had murdered his mother: and indeed so they had, that is
to say, passively; for they might have spared a small sustenance
to the poor helpless widow, though it had been but just enough to
keep her alive; but hunger knows no friend, no relation, no
justice, no right, and therefore is remorseless, and capable of
no compassion.</p>
<p>The surgeon told him how far we were going, and that it would
carry him away from all his friends, and put him, perhaps, in as
bad circumstances almost as those we found him in, that is to
say, starving in the world.&nbsp; He said it mattered not whither
he went, if he was but delivered from the terrible crew that he
was among; that the captain (by which he meant me, for he could
know nothing of my nephew) had saved his life, and he was sure
would not hurt him; and as for the maid, he was sure, if she came
to herself, she would be very thankful for it, let us carry them
where we would.&nbsp; The surgeon represented the case so
affectionately to me that I yielded, and we took them both on
board, with all their goods, except eleven hogsheads of sugar,
which could not be removed or come at; and as the youth had a
bill of lading for them, I made his commander sign a writing,
obliging himself to go, as soon as he came to Bristol, to one Mr.
Rogers, a merchant there, to whom the youth said he was related,
and to deliver a letter which I wrote to him, and all the goods
he had belonging to the deceased widow; which, I suppose, was not
done, for I could never learn that the ship came to Bristol, but
was, as is most probable, lost at sea, being in so disabled a
condition, and so far from any land, that I am of opinion the
first storm she met with afterwards she might founder, for she
was leaky, and had damage in her hold when we met with her.</p>
<p>I was now in the latitude of 19 degrees 32 minutes, and had
hitherto a tolerable voyage as to weather, though at first the
winds had been contrary.&nbsp; I shall trouble nobody with the
little incidents of wind, weather, currents, &amp;c., on the rest
of our voyage; but to shorten my story, shall observe that I came
to my old habitation, the island, on the 10th of April
1695.&nbsp; It was with no small difficulty that I found the
place; for as I came to it and went to it before on the south and
east side of the island, coming from the Brazils, so now, coming
in between the main and the island, and having no chart for the
coast, nor any landmark, I did not know it when I saw it, or,
know whether I saw it or not.&nbsp; We beat about a great while,
and went on shore on several islands in the mouth of the great
river Orinoco, but none for my purpose; only this I learned by my
coasting the shore, that I was under one great mistake before,
viz. that the continent which I thought I saw from the island I
lived in was really no continent, but a long island, or rather a
ridge of islands, reaching from one to the other side of the
extended mouth of that great river; and that the savages who came
to my island were not properly those which we call Caribbees, but
islanders, and other barbarians of the same kind, who inhabited
nearer to our side than the rest.</p>
<p>In short, I visited several of these islands to no purpose;
some I found were inhabited, and some were not; on one of them I
found some Spaniards, and thought they had lived there; but
speaking with them, found they had a sloop lying in a small creek
hard by, and came thither to make salt, and to catch some
pearl-mussels if they could; but that they belonged to the Isle
de Trinidad, which lay farther north, in the latitude of 10 and
11 degrees.</p>
<p>Thus coasting from one island to another, sometimes with the
ship, sometimes with the Frenchman&rsquo;s shallop, which we had
found a convenient boat, and therefore kept her with their very
good will, at length I came fair on the south side of my island,
and presently knew the very countenance of the place: so I
brought the ship safe to an anchor, broadside with the little
creek where my old habitation was.&nbsp; As soon as I saw the
place I called for Friday, and asked him if he knew where he
was?&nbsp; He looked about a little, and presently clapping his
hands, cried, &ldquo;Oh yes, Oh there, Oh yes, Oh there!&rdquo;
pointing to our old habitation, and fell dancing and capering
like a mad fellow; and I had much ado to keep him from jumping
into the sea to swim ashore to the place.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, Friday,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;do you think we
shall find anybody here or no? and do you think we shall see your
father?&rdquo;&nbsp; The fellow stood mute as a stock a good
while; but when I named his father, the poor affectionate
creature looked dejected, and I could see the tears run down his
face very plentifully.&nbsp; &ldquo;What is the matter, Friday?
are you troubled because you may see your father?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; says he, shaking his head, &ldquo;no see
him more: no, never more see him again.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Why
so, Friday? how do you know that?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh no, Oh
no,&rdquo; says Friday, &ldquo;he long ago die, long ago; he much
old man.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, well, Friday, you don&rsquo;t
know; but shall we see any one else, then?&rdquo;&nbsp; The
fellow, it seems, had better eyes than I, and he points to the
hill just above my old house; and though we lay half a league
off, he cries out, &ldquo;We see! we see! yes, we see much man
there, and there, and there.&rdquo;&nbsp; I looked, but I saw
nobody, no, not with a perspective glass, which was, I suppose,
because I could not hit the place: for the fellow was right, as I
found upon inquiry the next day; and there were five or six men
all together, who stood to look at the ship, not knowing what to
think of us.</p>
<p>As soon as Friday told me he saw people, I caused the English
ancient to be spread, and fired three guns, to give them notice
we were friends; and in about a quarter of an hour after we
perceived a smoke arise from the side of the creek; so I
immediately ordered the boat out, taking Friday with me, and
hanging out a white flag, I went directly on shore, taking with
me the young friar I mentioned, to whom I had told the story of
my living there, and the manner of it, and every particular both
of myself and those I left there, and who was on that account
extremely desirous to go with me.&nbsp; We had, besides, about
sixteen men well armed, if we had found any new guests there
which we did not know of; but we had no need of weapons.</p>
<p>As we went on shore upon the tide of flood, near high water,
we rowed directly into the creek; and the first man I fixed my
eye upon was the Spaniard whose life I had saved, and whom I knew
by his face perfectly well: as to his habit, I shall describe it
afterwards.&nbsp; I ordered nobody to go on shore at first but
myself; but there was no keeping Friday in the boat, for the
affectionate creature had spied his father at a distance, a good
way off the Spaniards, where, indeed, I saw nothing of him; and
if they had not let him go ashore, he would have jumped into the
sea.&nbsp; He was no sooner on shore, but he flew away to his
father like an arrow out of a bow.&nbsp; It would have made any
man shed tears, in spite of the firmest resolution, to have seen
the first transports of this poor fellow&rsquo;s joy when he came
to his father: how he embraced him, kissed him, stroked his face,
took him up in his arms, set him down upon a tree, and lay down
by him; then stood and looked at him, as any one would look at a
strange picture, for a quarter of an hour together; then lay down
on the ground, and stroked his legs, and kissed them, and then
got up again and stared at him; one would have thought the fellow
bewitched.&nbsp; But it would have made a dog laugh the next day
to see how his passion ran out another way: in the morning he
walked along the shore with his father several hours, always
leading him by the hand, as if he had been a lady; and every now
and then he would come to the boat to fetch something or other
for him, either a lump of sugar, a dram, a biscuit, or something
or other that was good.&nbsp; In the afternoon his frolics ran
another way; for then he would set the old man down upon the
ground, and dance about him, and make a thousand antic gestures;
and all the while he did this he would be talking to him, and
telling him one story or another of his travels, and of what had
happened to him abroad to divert him.&nbsp; In short, if the same
filial affection was to be found in Christians to their parents
in our part of the world, one would be tempted to say there would
hardly have been any need of the fifth commandment.</p>
<p>But this is a digression: I return to my landing.&nbsp; It
would be needless to take notice of all the ceremonies and
civilities that the Spaniards received me with.&nbsp; The first
Spaniard, whom, as I said, I knew very well, was he whose life I
had saved.&nbsp; He came towards the boat, attended by one more,
carrying a flag of truce also; and he not only did not know me at
first, but he had no thoughts, no notion of its being me that was
come, till I spoke to him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Seignior,&rdquo; said I,
in Portuguese, &ldquo;do you not know me?&rdquo;&nbsp; At which
he spoke not a word, but giving his musket to the man that was
with him, threw his arms abroad, saying something in Spanish that
I did not perfectly hear, came forward and embraced me, telling
me he was inexcusable not to know that face again that he had
once seen, as of an angel from heaven sent to save his life; he
said abundance of very handsome things, as a well-bred Spaniard
always knows how, and then, beckoning to the person that attended
him, bade him go and call out his comrades.&nbsp; He then asked
me if I would walk to my old habitation, where he would give me
possession of my own house again, and where I should see they had
made but mean improvements.&nbsp; I walked along with him, but,
alas! I could no more find the place than if I had never been
there; for they had planted so many trees, and placed them in
such a position, so thick and close to one another, and in ten
years&rsquo; time they were grown so big, that the place was
inaccessible, except by such windings and blind ways as they
themselves only, who made them, could find.</p>
<p>I asked them what put them upon all these fortifications; he
told me I would say there was need enough of it when they had
given me an account how they had passed their time since their
arriving in the island, especially after they had the misfortune
to find that I was gone.&nbsp; He told me he could not but have
some pleasure in my good fortune, when he heard that I was gone
in a good ship, and to my satisfaction; and that he had
oftentimes a strong persuasion that one time or other he should
see me again, but nothing that ever befell him in his life, he
said, was so surprising and afflicting to him at first as the
disappointment he was under when he came back to the island and
found I was not there.</p>
<p>As to the three barbarians (so he called them) that were left
behind, and of whom, he said, he had a long story to tell me, the
Spaniards all thought themselves much better among the savages,
only that their number was so small: &ldquo;And,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;had they been strong enough, we had been all long ago in
purgatory;&rdquo; and with that he crossed himself on the
breast.&nbsp; &ldquo;But, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I hope you
will not be displeased when I shall tell you how, forced by
necessity, we were obliged for our own preservation to disarm
them, and make them our subjects, as they would not be content
with being moderately our masters, but would be our
murderers.&rdquo;&nbsp; I answered I was afraid of it when I left
them there, and nothing troubled me at my parting from the island
but that they were not come back, that I might have put them in
possession of everything first, and left the others in a state of
subjection, as they deserved; but if they had reduced them to it
I was very glad, and should be very far from finding any fault
with it; for I knew they were a parcel of refractory, ungoverned
villains, and were fit for any manner of mischief.</p>
<p>While I was saying this, the man came whom he had sent back,
and with him eleven more.&nbsp; In the dress they were in it was
impossible to guess what nation they were of; but he made all
clear, both to them and to me.&nbsp; First, he turned to me, and
pointing to them, said, &ldquo;These, sir, are some of the
gentlemen who owe their lives to you;&rdquo; and then turning to
them, and pointing to me, he let them know who I was; upon which
they all came up, one by one, not as if they had been sailors,
and ordinary fellows, and the like, but really as if they had
been ambassadors or noblemen, and I a monarch or great conqueror:
their behaviour was, to the last degree, obliging and courteous,
and yet mixed with a manly, majestic gravity, which very well
became them; and, in short, they had so much more manners than I,
that I scarce knew how to receive their civilities, much less how
to return them in kind.</p>
<p>The history of their coming to, and conduct in, the island
after my going away is so very remarkable, and has so many
incidents which the former part of my relation will help to
understand, and which will in most of the particulars, refer to
the account I have already given, that I cannot but commit them,
with great delight, to the reading of those that come after
me.</p>
<p>In order to do this as intelligibly as I can, I must go back
to the circumstances in which I left the island, and the persons
on it, of whom I am to speak.&nbsp; And first, it is necessary to
repeat that I had sent away Friday&rsquo;s father and the
Spaniard (the two whose lives I had rescued from the savages) in
a large canoe to the main, as I then thought it, to fetch over
the Spaniard&rsquo;s companions that he left behind him, in order
to save them from the like calamity that he had been in, and in
order to succour them for the present; and that, if possible, we
might together find some way for our deliverance
afterwards.&nbsp; When I sent them away I had no visible
appearance of, or the least room to hope for, my own deliverance,
any more than I had twenty years before&mdash;much less had I any
foreknowledge of what afterwards happened, I mean, of an English
ship coming on shore there to fetch me off; and it could not be
but a very great surprise to them, when they came back, not only
to find that I was gone, but to find three strangers left on the
spot, possessed of all that I had left behind me, which would
otherwise have been their own.</p>
<p>The first thing, however, which I inquired into, that I might
begin where I left off, was of their own part; and I desired the
Spaniard would give me a particular account of his voyage back to
his countrymen with the boat, when I sent him to fetch them
over.&nbsp; He told me there was little variety in that part, for
nothing remarkable happened to them on the way, having had very
calm weather and a smooth sea.&nbsp; As for his countrymen, it
could not be doubted, he said, but that they were overjoyed to
see him (it seems he was the principal man among them, the
captain of the vessel they had been shipwrecked in having been
dead some time): they were, he said, the more surprised to see
him, because they knew that he was fallen into the hands of the
savages, who, they were satisfied, would devour him as they did
all the rest of their prisoners; that when he told them the story
of his deliverance, and in what manner he was furnished for
carrying them away, it was like a dream to them, and their
astonishment, he said, was somewhat like that of Joseph&rsquo;s
brethren when he told them who he was, and the story of his
exaltation in Pharaoh&rsquo;s court; but when he showed them the
arms, the powder, the ball, the provisions that he brought them
for their journey or voyage, they were restored to themselves,
took a just share of the joy of their deliverance, and
immediately prepared to come away with him.</p>
<p>Their first business was to get canoes; and in this they were
obliged not to stick so much upon the honesty of it, but to
trespass upon their friendly savages, and to borrow two large
canoes, or periaguas, on pretence of going out a-fishing, or for
pleasure.&nbsp; In these they came away the next morning.&nbsp;
It seems they wanted no time to get themselves ready; for they
had neither clothes nor provisions, nor anything in the world but
what they had on them, and a few roots to eat, of which they used
to make their bread.&nbsp; They were in all three weeks absent;
and in that time, unluckily for them, I had the occasion offered
for my escape, as I mentioned in the other part, and to get off
from the island, leaving three of the most impudent, hardened,
ungoverned, disagreeable villains behind me that any man could
desire to meet with&mdash;to the poor Spaniards&rsquo; great
grief and disappointment.</p>
<p>The only just thing the rogues did was, that when the
Spaniards came ashore, they gave my letter to them, and gave them
provisions, and other relief, as I had ordered them to do; also
they gave them the long paper of directions which I had left with
them, containing the particular methods which I took for managing
every part of my life there; the way I baked my bread, bred up
tame goats, and planted my corn; how I cured my grapes, made my
pots, and, in a word, everything I did.&nbsp; All this being
written down, they gave to the Spaniards (two of them understood
English well enough): nor did they refuse to accommodate the
Spaniards with anything else, for they agreed very well for some
time.&nbsp; They gave them an equal admission into the house or
cave, and they began to live very sociably; and the head
Spaniard, who had seen pretty much of my methods, together with
Friday&rsquo;s father, managed all their affairs; but as for the
Englishmen, they did nothing but ramble about the island, shoot
parrots, and catch tortoises; and when they came home at night,
the Spaniards provided their suppers for them.</p>
<p>The Spaniards would have been satisfied with this had the
others but let them alone, which, however, they could not find in
their hearts to do long: but, like the dog in the manger, they
would not eat themselves, neither would they let the others
eat.&nbsp; The differences, nevertheless, were at first but
trivial, and such as are not worth relating, but at last it broke
out into open war: and it began with all the rudeness and
insolence that can be imagined&mdash;without reason, without
provocation, contrary to nature, and indeed to common sense; and
though, it is true, the first relation of it came from the
Spaniards themselves, whom I may call the accusers, yet when I
came to examine the fellows they could not deny a word of it.</p>
<p>But before I come to the particulars of this part, I must
supply a defect in my former relation; and this was, I forgot to
set down among the rest, that just as we were weighing the anchor
to set sail, there happened a little quarrel on board of our
ship, which I was once afraid would have turned to a second
mutiny; nor was it appeased till the captain, rousing up his
courage, and taking us all to his assistance, parted them by
force, and making two of the most refractory fellows prisoners,
he laid them in irons: and as they had been active in the former
disorders, and let fall some ugly, dangerous words the second
time, he threatened to carry them in irons to England, and have
them hanged there for mutiny and running away with the
ship.&nbsp; This, it seems, though the captain did not intend to
do it, frightened some other men in the ship; and some of them
had put it into the head of the rest that the captain only gave
them good words for the present, till they should come to same
English port, and that then they should be all put into gaol, and
tried for their lives.&nbsp; The mate got intelligence of this,
and acquainted us with it, upon which it was desired that I, who
still passed for a great man among them, should go down with the
mate and satisfy the men, and tell them that they might be
assured, if they behaved well the rest of the voyage, all they
had done for the time past should be pardoned.&nbsp; So I went,
and after passing my honour&rsquo;s word to them they appeared
easy, and the more so when I caused the two men that were in
irons to be released and forgiven.</p>
<p>But this mutiny had brought us to an anchor for that night;
the wind also falling calm next morning, we found that our two
men who had been laid in irons had stolen each of them a musket
and some other weapons (what powder or shot they had we knew
not), and had taken the ship&rsquo;s pinnace, which was not yet
hauled up, and run away with her to their companions in roguery
on shore.&nbsp; As soon as we found this, I ordered the long-boat
on shore, with twelve men and the mate, and away they went to
seek the rogues; but they could neither find them nor any of the
rest, for they all fled into the woods when they saw the boat
coming on shore.&nbsp; The mate was once resolved, in justice to
their roguery, to have destroyed their plantations, burned all
their household stuff and furniture, and left them to shift
without it; but having no orders, he let it all alone, left
everything as he found it, and bringing the pinnace way, came on
board without them.&nbsp; These two men made their number five;
but the other three villains were so much more wicked than they,
that after they had been two or three days together they turned
the two newcomers out of doors to shift for themselves, and would
have nothing to do with them; nor could they for a good while be
persuaded to give them any food: as for the Spaniards, they were
not yet come.</p>
<p>When the Spaniards came first on shore, the business began to
go forward: the Spaniards would have persuaded the three English
brutes to have taken in their countrymen again, that, as they
said, they might be all one family; but they would not hear of
it, so the two poor fellows lived by themselves; and finding
nothing but industry and application would make them live
comfortably, they pitched their tents on the north shore of the
island, but a little more to the west, to be out of danger of the
savages, who always landed on the east parts of the island.&nbsp;
Here they built them two huts, one to lodge in, and the other to
lay up their magazines and stores in; and the Spaniards having
given them some corn for seed, and some of the peas which I had
left them, they dug, planted, and enclosed, after the pattern I
had set for them all, and began to live pretty well.&nbsp; Their
first crop of corn was on the ground; and though it was but a
little bit of land which they had dug up at first, having had but
a little time, yet it was enough to relieve them, and find them
with bread and other eatables; and one of the fellows being the
cook&rsquo;s mate of the ship, was very ready at making soup,
puddings, and such other preparations as the rice and the milk,
and such little flesh as they got, furnished him to do.</p>
<p>They were going on in this little thriving position when the
three unnatural rogues, their own countrymen too, in mere humour,
and to insult them, came and bullied them, and told them the
island was theirs: that the governor, meaning me, had given them
the possession of it, and nobody else had any right to it; and
that they should build no houses upon their ground unless they
would pay rent for them.&nbsp; The two men, thinking they were
jesting at first, asked them to come in and sit down, and see
what fine houses they were that they had built, and to tell them
what rent they demanded; and one of them merrily said if they
were the ground-landlords, he hoped if they built tenements upon
their land, and made improvements, they would, according to the
custom of landlords, grant a long lease: and desired they would
get a scrivener to draw the writings.&nbsp; One of the three,
cursing and raging, told them they should see they were not in
jest; and going to a little place at a distance, where the honest
men had made a fire to dress their victuals, he takes a
firebrand, and claps it to the outside of their hut, and set it
on fire: indeed, it would have been all burned down in a few
minutes if one of the two had not run to the fellow, thrust him
away, and trod the fire out with his feet, and that not without
some difficulty too.</p>
<p>The fellow was in such a rage at the honest man&rsquo;s
thrusting him away, that he returned upon him, with a pole he had
in his hand, and had not the man avoided the blow very nimbly,
and run into the hut, he had ended his days at once.&nbsp; His
comrade, seeing the danger they were both in, ran after him, and
immediately they came both out with their muskets, and the man
that was first struck at with the pole knocked the fellow down
that began the quarrel with the stock of his musket, and that
before the other two could come to help him; and then, seeing the
rest come at them, they stood together, and presenting the other
ends of their pieces to them, bade them stand off.</p>
<p>The others had firearms with them too; but one of the two
honest men, bolder than his comrade, and made desperate by his
danger, told them if they offered to move hand or foot they were
dead men, and boldly commanded them to lay down their arms.&nbsp;
They did not, indeed, lay down their arms, but seeing him so
resolute, it brought them to a parley, and they consented to take
their wounded man with them and be gone: and, indeed, it seems
the fellow was wounded sufficiently with the blow.&nbsp; However,
they were much in the wrong, since they had the advantage, that
they did not disarm them effectually, as they might have done,
and have gone immediately to the Spaniards, and given them an
account how the rogues had treated them; for the three villains
studied nothing but revenge, and every day gave them some
intimation that they did so.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER III&mdash;FIGHT WITH CANNIBALS</h2>
<p>But not to crowd this part with an account of the lesser part
of the rogueries with which they plagued them continually, night
and day, it forced the two men to such a desperation that they
resolved to fight them all three, the first time they had a fair
opportunity.&nbsp; In order to do this they resolved to go to the
castle (as they called my old dwelling), where the three rogues
and the Spaniards all lived together at that time, intending to
have a fair battle, and the Spaniards should stand by to see fair
play: so they got up in the morning before day, and came to the
place, and called the Englishmen by their names telling a
Spaniard that answered that they wanted to speak with them.</p>
<p>It happened that the day before two of the Spaniards, having
been in the woods, had seen one of the two Englishmen, whom, for
distinction, I called the honest men, and he had made a sad
complaint to the Spaniards of the barbarous usage they had met
with from their three countrymen, and how they had ruined their
plantation, and destroyed their corn, that they had laboured so
hard to bring forward, and killed the milch-goat and their three
kids, which was all they had provided for their sustenance, and
that if he and his friends, meaning the Spaniards, did not assist
them again, they should be starved.&nbsp; When the Spaniards came
home at night, and they were all at supper, one of them took the
freedom to reprove the three Englishmen, though in very gentle
and mannerly terms, and asked them how they could be so cruel,
they being harmless, inoffensive fellows: that they were putting
themselves in a way to subsist by their labour, and that it had
cost them a great deal of pains to bring things to such
perfection as they were then in.</p>
<p>One of the Englishmen returned very briskly, &ldquo;What had
they to do there? that they came on shore without leave; and that
they should not plant or build upon the island; it was none of
their ground.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; says the Spaniard,
very calmly, &ldquo;Seignior Inglese, they must not
starve.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Englishman replied, like a rough
tarpaulin, &ldquo;They might starve; they should not plant nor
build in that place.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;But what must they do
then, seignior?&rdquo; said the Spaniard.&nbsp; Another of the
brutes returned, &ldquo;Do? they should be servants, and work for
them.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;But how can you expect that of
them?&rdquo; says the Spaniard; &ldquo;they are not bought with
your money; you have no right to make them servants.&rdquo;&nbsp;
The Englishman answered, &ldquo;The island was theirs; the
governor had given it to them, and no man had anything to do
there but themselves;&rdquo; and with that he swore that he would
go and burn all their new huts; they should build none upon their
land.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, seignior,&rdquo; says the Spaniard,
&ldquo;by the same rule, we must be your servants,
too.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; returned the bold dog,
&ldquo;and so you shall, too, before we have done with
you;&rdquo; mixing two or three oaths in the proper intervals of
his speech.&nbsp; The Spaniard only smiled at that, and made him
no answer.&nbsp; However, this little discourse had heated them;
and starting up, one says to the other.&nbsp; (I think it was he
they called Will Atkins), &ldquo;Come, Jack, let&rsquo;s go and
have t&rsquo;other brush with them; we&rsquo;ll demolish their
castle, I&rsquo;ll warrant you; they shall plant no colony in our
dominions.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Upon this they were all trooping away, with every man a gun, a
pistol, and a sword, and muttered some insolent things among
themselves of what they would do to the Spaniards, too, when
opportunity offered; but the Spaniards, it seems, did not so
perfectly understand them as to know all the particulars, only
that in general they threatened them hard for taking the two
Englishmen&rsquo;s part.&nbsp; Whither they went, or how they
bestowed their time that evening, the Spaniards said they did not
know; but it seems they wandered about the country part of the
night, and them lying down in the place which I used to call my
bower, they were weary and overslept themselves.&nbsp; The case
was this: they had resolved to stay till midnight, and so take
the two poor men when they were asleep, and as they acknowledged
afterwards, intended to set fire to their huts while they were in
them, and either burn them there or murder them as they came
out.&nbsp; As malice seldom sleeps very sound, it was very
strange they should not have been kept awake.&nbsp; However, as
the two men had also a design upon them, as I have said, though a
much fairer one than that of burning and murdering, it happened,
and very luckily for them all, that they were up and gone abroad
before the bloody-minded rogues came to their huts.</p>
<p>When they came there, and found the men gone, Atkins, who it
seems was the forwardest man, called out to his comrade,
&ldquo;Ha, Jack, here&rsquo;s the nest, but the birds are
flown.&rdquo;&nbsp; They mused a while, to think what should be
the occasion of their being gone abroad so soon, and suggested
presently that the Spaniards had given them notice of it; and
with that they shook hands, and swore to one another that they
would be revenged of the Spaniards.&nbsp; As soon as they had
made this bloody bargain they fell to work with the poor
men&rsquo;s habitation; they did not set fire, indeed, to
anything, but they pulled down both their houses, and left not
the least stick standing, or scarce any sign on the ground where
they stood; they tore all their household stuff in pieces, and
threw everything about in such a manner, that the poor men
afterwards found some of their things a mile off.&nbsp; When they
had done this, they pulled up all the young trees which the poor
men had planted; broke down an enclosure they had made to secure
their cattle and their corn; and, in a word, sacked and plundered
everything as completely as a horde of Tartars would have
done.</p>
<p>The two men were at this juncture gone to find them out, and
had resolved to fight them wherever they had been, though they
were but two to three; so that, had they met, there certainly
would have been blood shed among them, for they were all very
stout, resolute fellows, to give them their due.</p>
<p>But Providence took more care to keep them asunder than they
themselves could do to meet; for, as if they had dogged one
another, when the three were gone thither, the two were here; and
afterwards, when the two went back to find them, the three were
come to the old habitation again: we shall see their different
conduct presently.&nbsp; When the three came back like furious
creatures, flushed with the rage which the work they had been
about had put them into, they came up to the Spaniards, and told
them what they had done, by way of scoff and bravado; and one of
them stepping up to one of the Spaniards, as if they had been a
couple of boys at play, takes hold of his hat as it was upon his
head, and giving it a twirl about, fleering in his face, says to
him, &ldquo;And you, Seignior Jack Spaniard, shall have the same
sauce if you do not mend your manners.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Spaniard,
who, though a quiet civil man, was as brave a man as could be,
and withal a strong, well-made man, looked at him for a good
while, and then, having no weapon in his hand, stepped gravely up
to him, and, with one blow of his fist, knocked him down, as an
ox is felled with a pole-axe; at which one of the rogues, as
insolent as the first, fired his pistol at the Spaniard
immediately; he missed his body, indeed, for the bullets went
through his hair, but one of them touched the tip of his ear, and
he bled pretty much.&nbsp; The blood made the Spaniard believe he
was more hurt than he really was, and that put him into some
heat, for before he acted all in a perfect calm; but now
resolving to go through with his work, he stooped, and taking the
fellow&rsquo;s musket whom he had knocked down, was just going to
shoot the man who had fired at him, when the rest of the
Spaniards, being in the cave, came out, and calling to him not to
shoot, they stepped in, secured the other two, and took their
arms from them.</p>
<p>When they were thus disarmed, and found they had made all the
Spaniards their enemies, as well as their own countrymen, they
began to cool, and giving the Spaniards better words, would have
their arms again; but the Spaniards, considering the feud that
was between them and the other two Englishmen, and that it would
be the best method they could take to keep them from killing one
another, told them they would do them no harm, and if they would
live peaceably, they would be very willing to assist and
associate with them as they did before; but that they could not
think of giving them their arms again, while they appeared so
resolved to do mischief with them to their own countrymen, and
had even threatened them all to make them their servants.</p>
<p>The rogues were now quite deaf to all reason, and being
refused their arms, they raved away like madmen, threatening what
they would do, though they had no firearms.&nbsp; But the
Spaniards, despising their threatening, told them they should
take care how they offered any injury to their plantation or
cattle; for if they did they would shoot them as they would
ravenous beasts, wherever they found them; and if they fell into
their hands alive, they should certainly be hanged.&nbsp;
However, this was far from cooling them, but away they went,
raging and swearing like furies.&nbsp; As soon as they were gone,
the two men came back, in passion and rage enough also, though of
another kind; for having been at their plantation, and finding it
all demolished and destroyed, as above mentioned, it will easily
be supposed they had provocation enough.&nbsp; They could scarce
have room to tell their tale, the Spaniards were so eager to tell
them theirs: and it was strange enough to find that three men
should thus bully nineteen, and receive no punishment at all.</p>
<p>The Spaniards, indeed, despised them, and especially, having
thus disarmed them, made light of their threatenings; but the two
Englishmen resolved to have their remedy against them, what pains
soever it cost to find them out.&nbsp; But the Spaniards
interposed here too, and told them that as they had disarmed
them, they could not consent that they (the two) should pursue
them with firearms, and perhaps kill them.&nbsp;
&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the grave Spaniard, who was their
governor, &ldquo;we will endeavour to make them do you justice,
if you will leave it to us: for there is no doubt but they will
come to us again, when their passion is over, being not able to
subsist without our assistance.&nbsp; We promise you to make no
peace with them without having full satisfaction for you; and
upon this condition we hope you will promise to use no violence
with them, other than in your own defence.&rdquo;&nbsp; The two
Englishmen yielded to this very awkwardly, and with great
reluctance; but the Spaniards protested that they did it only to
keep them from bloodshed, and to make them all easy at
last.&nbsp; &ldquo;For,&rdquo; said they, &ldquo;we are not so
many of us; here is room enough for us all, and it is a great
pity that we should not be all good friends.&rdquo;&nbsp; At
length they did consent, and waited for the issue of the thing,
living for some days with the Spaniards; for their own habitation
was destroyed.</p>
<p>In about five days&rsquo; time the vagrants, tired with
wandering, and almost starved with hunger, having chiefly lived
on turtles&rsquo; eggs all that while, came back to the grove;
and finding my Spaniard, who, as I have said, was the governor,
and two more with him, walking by the side of the creek, they
came up in a very submissive, humble manner, and begged to be
received again into the society.&nbsp; The Spaniards used them
civilly, but told them they had acted so unnaturally to their
countrymen, and so very grossly to themselves, that they could
not come to any conclusion without consulting the two Englishmen
and the rest; but, however, they would go to them and discourse
about it, and they should know in half-an-hour.&nbsp; It may be
guessed that they were very hard put to it; for, as they were to
wait this half-hour for an answer, they begged they would send
them out some bread in the meantime, which they did, sending at
the same time a large piece of goat&rsquo;s flesh and a boiled
parrot, which they ate very eagerly.</p>
<p>After half-an-hour&rsquo;s consultation they were called in,
and a long debate ensued, their two countrymen charging them with
the ruin of all their labour, and a design to murder them; all
which they owned before, and therefore could not deny now.&nbsp;
Upon the whole, the Spaniards acted the moderators between them;
and as they had obliged the two Englishmen not to hurt the three
while they were naked and unarmed, so they now obliged the three
to go and rebuild their fellows&rsquo; two huts, one to be of the
same and the other of larger dimensions than they were before; to
fence their ground again, plant trees in the room of those pulled
up, dig up the land again for planting corn, and, in a word, to
restore everything to the same state as they found it, that is,
as near as they could.</p>
<p>Well, they submitted to all this; and as they had plenty of
provisions given them all the while, they grew very orderly, and
the whole society began to live pleasantly and agreeably together
again; only that these three fellows could never be persuaded to
work&mdash;I mean for themselves&mdash;except now and then a
little, just as they pleased.&nbsp; However, the Spaniards told
them plainly that if they would but live sociably and friendly
together, and study the good of the whole plantation, they would
be content to work for them, and let them walk about and be as
idle as they pleased; and thus, having lived pretty well together
for a month or two, the Spaniards let them have arms again, and
gave them liberty to go abroad with them as before.</p>
<p>It was not above a week after they had these arms, and went
abroad, before the ungrateful creatures began to be as insolent
and troublesome as ever.&nbsp; However, an accident happened
presently upon this, which endangered the safety of them all, and
they were obliged to lay by all private resentments, and look to
the preservation of their lives.</p>
<p>It happened one night that the governor, the Spaniard whose
life I had saved, who was now the governor of the rest, found
himself very uneasy in the night, and could by no means get any
sleep: he was perfectly well in body, only found his thoughts
tumultuous; his mind ran upon men fighting and killing one
another; but he was broad awake, and could not by any means get
any sleep; in short, he lay a great while, but growing more and
more uneasy, he resolved to rise.&nbsp; As they lay, being so
many of them, on goat-skins laid thick upon such couches and pads
as they made for themselves, so they had little to do, when they
were willing to rise, but to get upon their feet, and perhaps put
on a coat, such as it was, and their pumps, and they were ready
for going any way that their thoughts guided them.&nbsp; Being
thus got up, he looked out; but being dark, he could see little
or nothing, and besides, the trees which I had planted, and which
were now grown tall, intercepted his sight, so that he could only
look up, and see that it was a starlight night, and hearing no
noise, he returned and lay down again; but to no purpose; he
could not compose himself to anything like rest; but his thoughts
were to the last degree uneasy, and he knew not for what.&nbsp;
Having made some noise with rising and walking about, going out
and coming in, another of them waked, and asked who it was that
was up.&nbsp; The governor told him how it had been with
him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Say you so?&rdquo; says the other Spaniard;
&ldquo;such things are not to be slighted, I assure you; there is
certainly some mischief working near us;&rdquo; and presently he
asked him, &ldquo;Where are the Englishmen?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;They are all in their huts,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;safe
enough.&rdquo;&nbsp; It seems the Spaniards had kept possession
of the main apartment, and had made a place for the three
Englishmen, who, since their last mutiny, were always quartered
by themselves, and could not come at the rest.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says the Spaniard, &ldquo;there is something
in it, I am persuaded, from my own experience.&nbsp; I am
satisfied that our spirits embodied have a converse with and
receive intelligence from the spirits unembodied, and inhabiting
the invisible world; and this friendly notice is given for our
advantage, if we knew how to make use of it.&nbsp; Come, let us
go and look abroad; and if we find nothing at all in it to
justify the trouble, I&rsquo;ll tell you a story to the purpose,
that shall convince you of the justice of my proposing
it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>They went out presently to go up to the top of the hill, where
I used to go; but they being strong, and a good company, nor
alone, as I was, used none of my cautions to go up by the ladder,
and pulling it up after them, to go up a second stage to the top,
but were going round through the grove unwarily, when they were
surprised with seeing a light as of fire, a very little way from
them, and hearing the voices of men, not of one or two, but of a
great number.</p>
<p>Among the precautions I used to take on the savages landing on
the island, it was my constant care to prevent them making the
least discovery of there being any inhabitant upon the place: and
when by any occasion they came to know it, they felt it so
effectually that they that got away were scarce able to give any
account of it; for we disappeared as soon as possible, nor did
ever any that had seen me escape to tell any one else, except it
was the three savages in our last encounter who jumped into the
boat; of whom, I mentioned, I was afraid they should go home and
bring more help.&nbsp; Whether it was the consequence of the
escape of those men that so great a number came now together, or
whether they came ignorantly, and by accident, on their usual
bloody errand, the Spaniards could not understand; but whatever
it was, it was their business either to have concealed themselves
or not to have seen them at all, much less to have let the
savages have seen there were any inhabitants in the place; or to
have fallen upon them so effectually as not a man of them should
have escaped, which could only have been by getting in between
them and their boats; but this presence of mind was wanting to
them, which was the ruin of their tranquillity for a great
while.</p>
<p>We need not doubt but that the governor and the man with him,
surprised with this sight, ran back immediately and raised their
fellows, giving them an account of the imminent danger they were
all in, and they again as readily took the alarm; but it was
impossible to persuade them to stay close within where they were,
but they must all run out to see how things stood.&nbsp; While it
was dark, indeed, they were safe, and they had opportunity enough
for some hours to view the savages by the light of three fires
they had made at a distance from one another; what they were
doing they knew not, neither did they know what to do
themselves.&nbsp; For, first, the enemy were too many; and
secondly, they did not keep together, but were divided into
several parties, and were on shore in several places.</p>
<p>The Spaniards were in no small consternation at this sight;
and, as they found that the fellows went straggling all over the
shore, they made no doubt but, first or last, some of them would
chop in upon their habitation, or upon some other place where
they would see the token of inhabitants; and they were in great
perplexity also for fear of their flock of goats, which, if they
should be destroyed, would have been little less than starving
them.&nbsp; So the first thing they resolved upon was to despatch
three men away before it was light, two Spaniards and one
Englishman, to drive away all the goats to the great valley where
the cave was, and, if need were, to drive them into the very cave
itself.&nbsp; Could they have seen the savages all together in
one body, and at a distance from their canoes, they were
resolved, if there had been a hundred of them, to attack them;
but that could not be done, for they were some of them two miles
off from the other, and, as it appeared afterwards, were of two
different nations.</p>
<p>After having mused a great while on the course they should
take, they resolved at last, while it was still dark, to send the
old savage, Friday&rsquo;s father, out as a spy, to learn, if
possible, something concerning them, as what they came for, what
they intended to do, and the like.&nbsp; The old man readily
undertook it; and stripping himself quite naked, as most of the
savages were, away he went.&nbsp; After he had been gone an hour
or two, he brings word that he had been among them undiscovered,
that he found they were two parties, and of two several nations,
who had war with one another, and had a great battle in their own
country; and that both sides having had several prisoners taken
in the fight, they were, by mere chance, landed all on the same
island, for the devouring their prisoners and making merry; but
their coming so by chance to the same place had spoiled all their
mirth&mdash;that they were in a great rage at one another, and
were so near that he believed they would fight again as soon as
daylight began to appear; but he did not perceive that they had
any notion of anybody being on the island but themselves.&nbsp;
He had hardly made an end of telling his story, when they could
perceive, by the unusual noise they made, that the two little
armies were engaged in a bloody fight.&nbsp; Friday&rsquo;s
father used all the arguments he could to persuade our people to
lie close, and not be seen; he told them their safety consisted
in it, and that they had nothing to do but lie still, and the
savages would kill one another to their hands, and then the rest
would go away; and it was so to a tittle.&nbsp; But it was
impossible to prevail, especially upon the Englishmen; their
curiosity was so importunate that they must run out and see the
battle.&nbsp; However, they used some caution too: they did not
go openly, just by their own dwelling, but went farther into the
woods, and placed themselves to advantage, where they might
securely see them manage the fight, and, as they thought, not be
seen by them; but the savages did see them, as we shall find
hereafter.</p>
<p>The battle was very fierce, and, if I might believe the
Englishmen, one of them said he could perceive that some of them
were men of great bravery, of invincible spirit, and of great
policy in guiding the fight.&nbsp; The battle, they said, held
two hours before they could guess which party would be beaten;
but then that party which was nearest our people&rsquo;s
habitation began to appear weakest, and after some time more some
of them began to fly; and this put our men again into a great
consternation, lest any one of those that fled should run into
the grove before their dwelling for shelter, and thereby
involuntarily discover the place; and that, by consequence, the
pursuers would also do the like in search of them.&nbsp; Upon
this, they resolved that they would stand armed within the wall,
and whoever came into the grove, they resolved to sally out over
the wall and kill them, so that, if possible, not one should
return to give an account of it; they ordered also that it should
be done with their swords, or by knocking them down with the
stocks of their muskets, but not by shooting them, for fear of
raising an alarm by the noise.</p>
<p>As they expected it fell out; three of the routed army fled
for life, and crossing the creek, ran directly into the place,
not in the least knowing whither they went, but running as into a
thick wood for shelter.&nbsp; The scout they kept to look abroad
gave notice of this within, with this comforting addition, that
the conquerors had not pursued them, or seen which way they were
gone; upon this the Spanish governor, a man of humanity, would
not suffer them to kill the three fugitives, but sending three
men out by the top of the hill, ordered them to go round, come in
behind them, and surprise and take them prisoners, which was
done.&nbsp; The residue of the conquered people fled to their
canoes, and got off to sea; the victors retired, made no pursuit,
or very little, but drawing themselves into a body together, gave
two great screaming shouts, most likely by way of triumph, and so
the fight ended; the same day, about three o&rsquo;clock in the
afternoon, they also marched to their canoes.&nbsp; And thus the
Spaniards had the island again free to themselves, their fright
was over, and they saw no savages for several years after.</p>
<p>After they were all gone, the Spaniards came out of their den,
and viewing the field of battle, they found about two-and-thirty
men dead on the spot; some were killed with long arrows, which
were found sticking in their bodies; but most of them were killed
with great wooden swords, sixteen or seventeen of which they
found in the field of battle, and as many bows, with a great many
arrows.&nbsp; These swords were strange, unwieldy things, and
they must be very strong men that used them; most of those that
were killed with them had their heads smashed to pieces, as we
may say, or, as we call it in English, their brains knocked out,
and several their arms and legs broken; so that it is evident
they fight with inexpressible rage and fury.&nbsp; We found not
one man that was not stone dead; for either they stay by their
enemy till they have killed him, or they carry all the wounded
men that are not quite dead away with them.</p>
<p>This deliverance tamed our ill-disposed Englishmen for a great
while; the sight had filled them with horror, and the
consequences appeared terrible to the last degree, especially
upon supposing that some time or other they should fall into the
hands of those creatures, who would not only kill them as
enemies, but for food, as we kill our cattle; and they professed
to me that the thoughts of being eaten up like beef and mutton,
though it was supposed it was not to be till they were dead, had
something in it so horrible that it nauseated their very
stomachs, made them sick when they thought of it, and filled
their minds with such unusual terror, that they were not
themselves for some weeks after.&nbsp; This, as I said, tamed
even the three English brutes I have been speaking of; and for a
great while after they were tractable, and went about the common
business of the whole society well enough&mdash;planted, sowed,
reaped, and began to be all naturalised to the country.&nbsp; But
some time after this they fell into such simple measures again as
brought them into a great deal of trouble.</p>
<p>They had taken three prisoners, as I observed; and these three
being stout young fellows, they made them servants, and taught
them to work for them, and as slaves they did well enough; but
they did not take their measures as I did by my man Friday, viz.
to begin with them upon the principle of having saved their
lives, and then instruct them in the rational principles of life;
much less did they think of teaching them religion, or attempt
civilising and reducing them by kind usage and affectionate
arguments.&nbsp; As they gave them their food every day, so they
gave them their work too, and kept them fully employed in
drudgery enough; but they failed in this by it, that they never
had them to assist them and fight for them as I had my man
Friday, who was as true to me as the very flesh upon my
bones.</p>
<p>But to come to the family part.&nbsp; Being all now good
friends&mdash;for common danger, as I said above, had effectually
reconciled them&mdash;they began to consider their general
circumstances; and the first thing that came under consideration
was whether, seeing the savages particularly haunted that side of
the island, and that there were more remote and retired parts of
it equally adapted to their way of living, and manifestly to
their advantage, they should not rather move their habitation,
and plant in some more proper place for their safety, and
especially for the security of their cattle and corn.</p>
<p>Upon this, after long debate, it was concluded that they would
not remove their habitation; because that, some time or other,
they thought they might hear from their governor again, meaning
me; and if I should send any one to seek them, I should be sure
to direct them to that side, where, if they should find the place
demolished, they would conclude the savages had killed us all,
and we were gone, and so our supply would go too.&nbsp; But as to
their corn and cattle, they agreed to remove them into the valley
where my cave was, where the land was as proper for both, and
where indeed there was land enough.&nbsp; However, upon second
thoughts they altered one part of their resolution too, and
resolved only to remove part of their cattle thither, and part of
their corn there; so that if one part was destroyed the other
might be saved.&nbsp; And one part of prudence they luckily used:
they never trusted those three savages which they had taken
prisoners with knowing anything of the plantation they had made
in that valley, or of any cattle they had there, much less of the
cave at that place, which they kept, in case of necessity, as a
safe retreat; and thither they carried also the two barrels of
powder which I had sent them at my coming away.&nbsp; They
resolved, however, not to change their habitation; yet, as I had
carefully covered it first with a wall or fortification, and then
with a grove of trees, and as they were now fully convinced their
safety consisted entirely in their being concealed, they set to
work to cover and conceal the place yet more effectually than
before.&nbsp; For this purpose, as I planted trees, or rather
thrust in stakes, which in time all grew up to be trees, for some
good distance before the entrance into my apartments, they went
on in the same manner, and filled up the rest of that whole space
of ground from the trees I had set quite down to the side of the
creek, where I landed my floats, and even into the very ooze
where the tide flowed, not so much as leaving any place to land,
or any sign that there had been any landing thereabouts: these
stakes also being of a wood very forward to grow, they took care
to have them generally much larger and taller than those which I
had planted.&nbsp; As they grew apace, they planted them so very
thick and close together, that when they had been three or four
years grown there was no piercing with the eye any considerable
way into the plantation.&nbsp; As for that part which I had
planted, the trees were grown as thick as a man&rsquo;s thigh,
and among them they had placed so many other short ones, and so
thick, that it stood like a palisado a quarter of a mile thick,
and it was next to impossible to penetrate it, for a little dog
could hardly get between the trees, they stood so close.</p>
<p>But this was not all; for they did the same by all the ground
to the right hand and to the left, and round even to the side of
the hill, leaving no way, not so much as for themselves, to come
out but by the ladder placed up to the side of the hill, and then
lifted up, and placed again from the first stage up to the top:
so that when the ladder was taken down, nothing but what had
wings or witchcraft to assist it could come at them.&nbsp; This
was excellently well contrived: nor was it less than what they
afterwards found occasion for, which served to convince me, that
as human prudence has the authority of Providence to justify it,
so it has doubtless the direction of Providence to set it to
work; and if we listened carefully to the voice of it, I am
persuaded we might prevent many of the disasters which our lives
are now, by our own negligence, subjected to.</p>
<p>They lived two years after this in perfect retirement, and had
no more visits from the savages.&nbsp; They had, indeed, an alarm
given them one morning, which put them into a great
consternation; for some of the Spaniards being out early one
morning on the west side or end of the island (which was that end
where I never went, for fear of being discovered), they were
surprised with seeing about twenty canoes of Indians just coming
on shore.&nbsp; They made the best of their way home in hurry
enough; and giving the alarm to their comrades, they kept close
all that day and the next, going out only at night to make their
observation: but they had the good luck to be undiscovered, for
wherever the savages went, they did not land that time on the
island, but pursued some other design.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV&mdash;RENEWED INVASION OF SAVAGES</h2>
<p>And now they had another broil with the three Englishmen; one
of whom, a most turbulent fellow, being in a rage at one of the
three captive slaves, because the fellow had not done something
right which he bade him do, and seemed a little untractable in
his showing him, drew a hatchet out of a frog-belt which he wore
by his side, and fell upon the poor savage, not to correct him,
but to kill him.&nbsp; One of the Spaniards who was by, seeing
him give the fellow a barbarous cut with the hatchet, which he
aimed at his head, but stuck into his shoulder, so that he
thought he had cut the poor creature&rsquo;s arm off, ran to him,
and entreating him not to murder the poor man, placed himself
between him and the savage, to prevent the mischief.&nbsp; The
fellow, being enraged the more at this, struck at the Spaniard
with his hatchet, and swore he would serve him as he intended to
serve the savage; which the Spaniard perceiving, avoided the
blow, and with a shovel, which he had in his hand (for they were
all working in the field about their corn land), knocked the
brute down.&nbsp; Another of the Englishmen, running up at the
same time to help his comrade, knocked the Spaniard down; and
then two Spaniards more came in to help their man, and a third
Englishman fell in upon them.&nbsp; They had none of them any
firearms or any other weapons but hatchets and other tools,
except this third Englishman; he had one of my rusty cutlasses,
with which he made at the two last Spaniards, and wounded them
both.&nbsp; This fray set the whole family in an uproar, and more
help coming in they took the three Englishmen prisoners.&nbsp;
The next question was, what should be done with them?&nbsp; They
had been so often mutinous, and were so very furious, so
desperate, and so idle withal, they knew not what course to take
with them, for they were mischievous to the highest degree, and
cared not what hurt they did to any man; so that, in short, it
was not safe to live with them.</p>
<p>The Spaniard who was governor told them, in so many words,
that if they had been of his own country he would have hanged
them; for all laws and all governors were to preserve society,
and those who were dangerous to the society ought to be expelled
out of it; but as they were Englishmen, and that it was to the
generous kindness of an Englishman that they all owed their
preservation and deliverance, he would use them with all possible
lenity, and would leave them to the judgment of the other two
Englishmen, who were their countrymen.&nbsp; One of the two
honest Englishmen stood up, and said they desired it might not be
left to them.&nbsp; &ldquo;For,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I am sure
we ought to sentence them to the gallows;&rdquo; and with that he
gives an account how Will Atkins, one of the three, had proposed
to have all the five Englishmen join together and murder all the
Spaniards when they were in their sleep.</p>
<p>When the Spanish governor heard this, he calls to Will Atkins,
&ldquo;How, Seignior Atkins, would you murder us all?&nbsp; What
have you to say to that?&rdquo;&nbsp; The hardened villain was so
far from denying it, that he said it was true, and swore they
would do it still before they had done with them.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Well, but Seignior Atkins,&rdquo; says the Spaniard,
&ldquo;what have we done to you that you will kill us?&nbsp; What
would you get by killing us?&nbsp; And what must we do to prevent
you killing us?&nbsp; Must we kill you, or you kill us?&nbsp; Why
will you put us to the necessity of this, Seignior Atkins?&rdquo;
says the Spaniard very calmly, and smiling.&nbsp; Seignior Atkins
was in such a rage at the Spaniard&rsquo;s making a jest of it,
that, had he not been held by three men, and withal had no weapon
near him, it was thought he would have attempted to kill the
Spaniard in the middle of all the company.&nbsp; This
hare-brained carriage obliged them to consider seriously what was
to be done.&nbsp; The two Englishmen and the Spaniard who saved
the poor savage were of the opinion that they should hang one of
the three for an example to the rest, and that particularly it
should be he that had twice attempted to commit murder with his
hatchet; indeed, there was some reason to believe he had done it,
for the poor savage was in such a miserable condition with the
wound he had received that it was thought he could not
live.&nbsp; But the governor Spaniard still said No; it was an
Englishman that had saved all their lives, and he would never
consent to put an Englishman to death, though he had murdered
half of them; nay, he said if he had been killed himself by an
Englishman, and had time left to speak, it should be that they
should pardon him.</p>
<p>This was so positively insisted on by the governor Spaniard,
that there was no gainsaying it; and as merciful counsels are
most apt to prevail where they are so earnestly pressed, so they
all came into it.&nbsp; But then it was to be considered what
should be done to keep them from doing the mischief they
designed; for all agreed, governor and all, that means were to be
used for preserving the society from danger.&nbsp; After a long
debate, it was agreed that they should be disarmed, and not
permitted to have either gun, powder, shot, sword, or any weapon;
that they should be turned out of the society, and left to live
where they would and how they would, by themselves; but that none
of the rest, either Spaniards or English, should hold any kind of
converse with them, or have anything to do with them; that they
should be forbid to come within a certain distance of the place
where the rest dwelt; and if they offered to commit any disorder,
so as to spoil, burn, kill, or destroy any of the corn,
plantings, buildings, fences, or cattle belonging to the society,
they should die without mercy, and they would shoot them wherever
they could find them.</p>
<p>The humane governor, musing upon the sentence, considered a
little upon it; and turning to the two honest Englishmen, said,
&ldquo;Hold; you must reflect that it will be long ere they can
raise corn and cattle of their own, and they must not starve; we
must therefore allow them provisions.&rdquo;&nbsp; So he caused
to be added, that they should have a proportion of corn given
them to last them eight months, and for seed to sow, by which
time they might be supposed to raise some of their own; that they
should have six milch-goats, four he-goats, and six kids given
them, as well for present subsistence as for a store; and that
they should have tools given them for their work in the fields,
but they should have none of these tools or provisions unless
they would swear solemnly that they would not hurt or injure any
of the Spaniards with them, or of their fellow-Englishmen.</p>
<p>Thus they dismissed them the society, and turned them out to
shift for themselves.&nbsp; They went away sullen and refractory,
as neither content to go away nor to stay: but, as there was no
remedy, they went, pretending to go and choose a place where they
would settle themselves; and some provisions were given them, but
no weapons.&nbsp; About four or five days after, they came again
for some victuals, and gave the governor an account where they
had pitched their tents, and marked themselves out a habitation
and plantation; and it was a very convenient place indeed, on the
remotest part of the island, NE., much about the place where I
providentially landed in my first voyage, when I was driven out
to sea in my foolish attempt to sail round the island.</p>
<p>Here they built themselves two handsome huts, and contrived
them in a manner like my first habitation, being close under the
side of a hill, having some trees already growing on three sides
of it, so that by planting others it would be very easily covered
from the sight, unless narrowly searched for.&nbsp; They desired
some dried goat-skins for beds and covering, which were given
them; and upon giving their words that they would not disturb the
rest, or injure any of their plantations, they gave them
hatchets, and what other tools they could spare; some peas,
barley, and rice, for sowing; and, in a word, anything they
wanted, except arms and ammunition.</p>
<p>They lived in this separate condition about six months, and
had got in their first harvest, though the quantity was but
small, the parcel of land they had planted being but
little.&nbsp; Indeed, having all their plantation to form, they
had a great deal of work upon their hands; and when they came to
make boards and pots, and such things, they were quite out of
their element, and could make nothing of it; therefore when the
rainy season came on, for want of a cave in the earth, they could
not keep their grain dry, and it was in great danger of
spoiling.&nbsp; This humbled them much: so they came and begged
the Spaniards to help them, which they very readily did; and in
four days worked a great hole in the side of the hill for them,
big enough to secure their corn and other things from the rain:
but it was a poor place at best compared to mine, and especially
as mine was then, for the Spaniards had greatly enlarged it, and
made several new apartments in it.</p>
<p>About three quarters of a year after this separation, a new
frolic took these rogues, which, together with the former
villainy they had committed, brought mischief enough upon them,
and had very near been the ruin of the whole colony.&nbsp; The
three new associates began, it seems, to be weary of the
laborious life they led, and that without hope of bettering their
circumstances: and a whim took them that they would make a voyage
to the continent, from whence the savages came, and would try if
they could seize upon some prisoners among the natives there, and
bring them home, so as to make them do the laborious part of the
work for them.</p>
<p>The project was not so preposterous, if they had gone no
further.&nbsp; But they did nothing, and proposed nothing, but
had either mischief in the design, or mischief in the
event.&nbsp; And if I may give my opinion, they seemed to be
under a blast from Heaven: for if we will not allow a visible
curse to pursue visible crimes, how shall we reconcile the events
of things with the divine justice?&nbsp; It was certainly an
apparent vengeance on their crime of mutiny and piracy that
brought them to the state they were in; and they showed not the
least remorse for the crime, but added new villanies to it, such
as the piece of monstrous cruelty of wounding a poor slave
because he did not, or perhaps could not, understand to do what
he was directed, and to wound him in such a manner as made him a
cripple all his life, and in a place where no surgeon or medicine
could be had for his cure; and, what was still worse, the
intentional murder, for such to be sure it was, as was afterwards
the formed design they all laid to murder the Spaniards in cold
blood, and in their sleep.</p>
<p>The three fellows came down to the Spaniards one morning, and
in very humble terms desired to be admitted to speak with
them.&nbsp; The Spaniards very readily heard what they had to
say, which was this: that they were tired of living in the manner
they did, and that they were not handy enough to make the
necessaries they wanted, and that having no help, they found they
should be starved; but if the Spaniards would give them leave to
take one of the canoes which they came over in, and give them
arms and ammunition proportioned to their defence, they would go
over to the main, and seek their fortunes, and so deliver them
from the trouble of supplying them with any other provisions.</p>
<p>The Spaniards were glad enough to get rid of them, but very
honestly represented to them the certain destruction they were
running into; told them they had suffered such hardships upon
that very spot, that they could, without any spirit of prophecy,
tell them they would be starved or murdered, and bade them
consider of it.&nbsp; The men replied audaciously, they should be
starved if they stayed here, for they could not work, and would
not work, and they could but be starved abroad; and if they were
murdered, there was an end of them; they had no wives or children
to cry after them; and, in short, insisted importunately upon
their demand, declaring they would go, whether they gave them any
arms or not.</p>
<p>The Spaniards told them, with great kindness, that if they
were resolved to go they should not go like naked men, and be in
no condition to defend themselves; and that though they could ill
spare firearms, not having enough for themselves, yet they would
let them have two muskets, a pistol, and a cutlass, and each man
a hatchet, which they thought was sufficient for them.&nbsp; In a
word, they accepted the offer; and having baked bread enough to
serve them a month given them, and as much goats&rsquo; flesh as
they could eat while it was sweet, with a great basket of dried
grapes, a pot of fresh water, and a young kid alive, they boldly
set out in the canoe for a voyage over the sea, where it was at
least forty miles broad.&nbsp; The boat, indeed, was a large one,
and would very well have carried fifteen or twenty men, and
therefore was rather too big for them to manage; but as they had
a fair breeze and flood-tide with them, they did well
enough.&nbsp; They had made a mast of a long pole, and a sail of
four large goat-skins dried, which they had sewed or laced
together; and away they went merrily together.&nbsp; The
Spaniards called after them &ldquo;<i>Bon voyajo</i>;&rdquo; and
no man ever thought of seeing them any more.</p>
<p>The Spaniards were often saying to one another, and to the two
honest Englishmen who remained behind, how quietly and
comfortably they lived, now these three turbulent fellows were
gone.&nbsp; As for their coming again, that was the remotest
thing from their thoughts that could be imagined; when, behold,
after two-and-twenty days&rsquo; absence, one of the Englishmen
being abroad upon his planting work, sees three strange men
coming towards him at a distance, with guns upon their
shoulders.</p>
<p>Away runs the Englishman, frightened and amazed, as if he was
bewitched, to the governor Spaniard, and tells him they were all
undone, for there were strangers upon the island, but he could
not tell who they were.&nbsp; The Spaniard, pausing a while, says
to him, &ldquo;How do you mean&mdash;you cannot tell who?&nbsp;
They are the savages, to be sure.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;No,
no,&rdquo; says the Englishman, &ldquo;they are men in clothes,
with arms.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Nay, then,&rdquo; says the
Spaniard, &ldquo;why are you so concerned!&nbsp; If they are not
savages they must be friends; for there is no Christian nation
upon earth but will do us good rather than harm.&rdquo;&nbsp;
While they were debating thus, came up the three Englishmen, and
standing without the wood, which was new planted, hallooed to
them.&nbsp; They presently knew their voices, and so all the
wonder ceased.&nbsp; But now the admiration was turned upon
another question&mdash;What could be the matter, and what made
them come back again?</p>
<p>It was not long before they brought the men in, and inquiring
where they had been, and what they had been doing, they gave them
a full account of their voyage in a few words: that they reached
the land in less than two days, but finding the people alarmed at
their coming, and preparing with bows and arrows to fight them,
they durst not go on shore, but sailed on to the northward six
or seven hours, till they came to a great opening, by which they
perceived that the land they saw from our island was not the
main, but an island: that upon entering that opening of the sea
they saw another island on the right hand north, and several more
west; and being resolved to land somewhere, they put over to one
of the islands which lay west, and went boldly on shore; that
they found the people very courteous and friendly to them; and
they gave them several roots and some dried fish, and appeared
very sociable; and that the women, as well as the men, were very
forward to supply them with anything they could get for them to
eat, and brought it to them a great way, on their heads.&nbsp;
They continued here for four days, and inquired as well as they
could of them by signs, what nations were this way, and that way,
and were told of several fierce and terrible people that lived
almost every way, who, as they made known by signs to them, used
to eat men; but, as for themselves, they said they never ate men
or women, except only such as they took in the wars; and then
they owned they made a great feast, and ate their prisoners.</p>
<p>The Englishmen inquired when they had had a feast of that
kind; and they told them about two moons ago, pointing to the
moon and to two fingers; and that their great king had two
hundred prisoners now, which he had taken in his war, and they
were feeding them to make them fat for the next feast.&nbsp; The
Englishmen seemed mighty desirous of seeing those prisoners; but
the others mistaking them, thought they were desirous to have
some of them to carry away for their own eating.&nbsp; So they
beckoned to them, pointing to the setting of the sun, and then to
the rising; which was to signify that the next morning at
sunrising they would bring some for them; and accordingly the
next morning they brought down five women and eleven men, and
gave them to the Englishmen to carry with them on their voyage,
just as we would bring so many cows and oxen down to a seaport
town to victual a ship.</p>
<p>As brutish and barbarous as these fellows were at home, their
stomachs turned at this sight, and they did not know what to
do.&nbsp; To refuse the prisoners would have been the highest
affront to the savage gentry that could be offered them, and what
to do with them they knew not.&nbsp; However, after some debate,
they resolved to accept of them: and, in return, they gave the
savages that brought them one of their hatchets, an old key, a
knife, and six or seven of their bullets; which, though they did
not understand their use, they seemed particularly pleased with;
and then tying the poor creatures&rsquo; hands behind them, they
dragged the prisoners into the boat for our men.</p>
<p>The Englishmen were obliged to come away as soon as they had
them, or else they that gave them this noble present would
certainly have expected that they should have gone to work with
them, have killed two or three of them the next morning, and
perhaps have invited the donors to dinner.&nbsp; But having taken
their leave, with all the respect and thanks that could well pass
between people, where on either side they understood not one word
they could say, they put off with their boat, and came back
towards the first island; where, when they arrived, they set
eight of their prisoners at liberty, there being too many of them
for their occasion.&nbsp; In their voyage they endeavoured to
have some communication with their prisoners; but it was
impossible to make them understand anything.&nbsp; Nothing they
could say to them, or give them, or do for them, but was looked
upon as going to murder them.&nbsp; They first of all unbound
them; but the poor creatures screamed at that, especially the
women, as if they had just felt the knife at their throats; for
they immediately concluded they were unbound on purpose to be
killed.&nbsp; If they gave them thing to eat, it was the same
thing; they then concluded it was for fear they should sink in
flesh, and so not be fat enough to kill.&nbsp; If they looked at
one of them more particularly, the party presently concluded it
was to see whether he or she was fattest, and fittest to kill
first; nay, after they had brought them quite over, and began to
use them kindly, and treat them well, still they expected every
day to make a dinner or supper for their new masters.</p>
<p>When the three wanderers had give this unaccountable history
or journal of their voyage, the Spaniard asked them where their
new family was; and being told that they had brought them on
shore, and put them into one of their huts, and were come up to
beg some victuals for them, they (the Spaniards) and the other
two Englishmen, that is to say, the whole colony, resolved to go
all down to the place and see them; and did so, and
Friday&rsquo;s father with them.&nbsp; When they came into the
hut, there they sat, all bound; for when they had brought them on
shore they bound their hands that they might not take the boat
and make their escape; there, I say, they sat, all of them stark
naked.&nbsp; First, there were three comely fellows, well shaped,
with straight limbs, about thirty to thirty-five years of age;
and five women, whereof two might be from thirty to forty, two
more about four or five and twenty; and the fifth, a tall, comely
maiden, about seventeen.&nbsp; The women were well-favoured,
agreeable persons, both in shape and features, only tawny; and
two of them, had they been perfect white, would have passed for
very handsome women, even in London, having pleasant
countenances, and of a very modest behaviour; especially when
they came afterwards to be clothed and dressed, though that dress
was very indifferent, it must be confessed.</p>
<p>The sight, you may be sure, was something uncouth to our
Spaniards, who were, to give them a just character, men of the
most calm, sedate tempers, and perfect good humour, that ever I
met with: and, in particular, of the utmost modesty: I say, the
sight was very uncouth, to see three naked men and five naked
women, all together bound, and in the most miserable
circumstances that human nature could be supposed to be, viz. to
be expecting every moment to be dragged out and have their brains
knocked out, and then to be eaten up like a calf that is killed
for a dainty.</p>
<p>The first thing they did was to cause the old Indian,
Friday&rsquo;s father, to go in, and see first if he knew any of
them, and then if he understood any of their speech.&nbsp; As
soon as the old man came in, he looked seriously at them, but
knew none of them; neither could any of them understand a word he
said, or a sign he could make, except one of the women.&nbsp;
However, this was enough to answer the end, which was to satisfy
them that the men into whose hands they were fallen were
Christians; that they abhorred eating men or women; and that they
might be sure they would not be killed.&nbsp; As soon as they
were assured of this, they discovered such a joy, and by such
awkward gestures, several ways, as is hard to describe; for it
seems they were of several nations.&nbsp; The woman who was their
interpreter was bid, in the next place, to ask them if they were
willing to be servants, and to work for the men who had brought
them away, to save their lives; at which they all fell a-dancing;
and presently one fell to taking up this, and another that,
anything that lay next, to carry on their shoulders, to intimate
they were willing to work.</p>
<p>The governor, who found that the having women among them would
presently be attended with some inconvenience, and might occasion
some strife, and perhaps blood, asked the three men what they
intended to do with these women, and how they intended to use
them, whether as servants or as wives?&nbsp; One of the
Englishmen answered, very boldly and readily, that they would use
them as both; to which the governor said: &ldquo;I am not going
to restrain you from it&mdash;you are your own masters as to
that; but this I think is but just, for avoiding disorders and
quarrels among you, and I desire it of you for that reason only,
viz. that you will all engage, that if any of you take any of
these women as a wife, he shall take but one; and that having
taken one, none else shall touch her; for though we cannot marry
any one of you, yet it is but reasonable that, while you stay
here, the woman any of you takes shall be maintained by the man
that takes her, and should be his wife&mdash;I mean,&rdquo; says
he, &ldquo;while he continues here, and that none else shall have
anything to do with her.&rdquo;&nbsp; All this appeared so just,
that every one agreed to it without any difficulty.</p>
<p>Then the Englishmen asked the Spaniards if they designed to
take any of them?&nbsp; But every one of them answered
&ldquo;No.&rdquo;&nbsp; Some of them said they had wives in
Spain, and the others did not like women that were not
Christians; and all together declared that they would not touch
one of them, which was an instance of such virtue as I have not
met with in all my travels.&nbsp; On the other hand, the five
Englishmen took them every one a wife, that is to say, a
temporary wife; and so they set up a new form of living; for the
Spaniards and Friday&rsquo;s father lived in my old habitation,
which they had enlarged exceedingly within.&nbsp; The three
servants which were taken in the last battle of the savages lived
with them; and these carried on the main part of the colony,
supplied all the rest with food, and assisted them in anything as
they could, or as they found necessity required.</p>
<p>But the wonder of the story was, how five such refractory,
ill-matched fellows should agree about these women, and that some
two of them should not choose the same woman, especially seeing
two or three of them were, without comparison, more agreeable
than the others; but they took a good way enough to prevent
quarrelling among themselves, for they set the five women by
themselves in one of their huts, and they went all into the other
hut, and drew lots among them who should choose first.</p>
<p>Him that drew to choose first went away by himself to the hut
where the poor naked creatures were, and fetched out her he
chose; and it was worth observing, that he that chose first took
her that was reckoned the homeliest and oldest of the five, which
made mirth enough amongst the rest; and even the Spaniards
laughed at it; but the fellow considered better than any of them,
that it was application and business they were to expect
assistance in, as much as in anything else; and she proved the
best wife of all the parcel.</p>
<p>When the poor women saw themselves set in a row thus, and
fetched out one by one, the terrors of their condition returned
upon them again, and they firmly believed they were now going to
be devoured.&nbsp; Accordingly, when the English sailor came in
and fetched out one of them, the rest set up a most lamentable
cry, and hung about her, and took their leave of her with such
agonies and affection as would have grieved the hardest heart in
the world: nor was it possible for the Englishmen to satisfy them
that they were not to be immediately murdered, till they fetched
the old man, Friday&rsquo;s father, who immediately let them know
that the five men, who were to fetch them out one by one, had
chosen them for their wives.&nbsp; When they had done, and the
fright the women were in was a little over, the men went to work,
and the Spaniards came and helped them: and in a few hours they
had built them every one a new hut or tent for their lodging
apart; for those they had already were crowded with their tools,
household stuff, and provisions.&nbsp; The three wicked ones had
pitched farthest off, and the two honest ones nearer, but both on
the north shore of the island, so that they continued separated
as before; and thus my island was peopled in three places, and,
as I might say, three towns were begun to be built.</p>
<p>And here it is very well worth observing that, as it often
happens in the world (what the wise ends in God&rsquo;s
providence are, in such a disposition of things, I cannot say),
the two honest fellows had the two worst wives; and the three
reprobates, that were scarce worth hanging, that were fit for
nothing, and neither seemed born to do themselves good nor any
one else, had three clever, careful, and ingenious wives; not
that the first two were bad wives as to their temper or humour,
for all the five were most willing, quiet, passive, and subjected
creatures, rather like slaves than wives; but my meaning is, they
were not alike capable, ingenious, or industrious, or alike
cleanly and neat.&nbsp; Another observation I must make, to the
honour of a diligent application on one hand, and to the disgrace
of a slothful, negligent, idle temper on the other, that when I
came to the place, and viewed the several improvements,
plantings, and management of the several little colonies, the two
men had so far out-gone the three, that there was no
comparison.&nbsp; They had, indeed, both of them as much ground
laid out for corn as they wanted, and the reason was, because,
according to my rule, nature dictated that it was to no purpose
to sow more corn than they wanted; but the difference of the
cultivation, of the planting, of the fences, and indeed, of
everything else, was easy to be seen at first view.</p>
<p>The two men had innumerable young trees planted about their
huts, so that, when you came to the place, nothing was to be seen
but a wood; and though they had twice had their plantation
demolished, once by their own countrymen, and once by the enemy,
as shall be shown in its place, yet they had restored all again,
and everything was thriving and flourishing about them; they had
grapes planted in order, and managed like a vineyard, though they
had themselves never seen anything of that kind; and by their
good ordering their vines, their grapes were as good again as any
of the others.&nbsp; They had also found themselves out a retreat
in the thickest part of the woods, where, though there was not a
natural cave, as I had found, yet they made one with incessant
labour of their hands, and where, when the mischief which
followed happened, they secured their wives and children so as
they could never be found; they having, by sticking innumerable
stakes and poles of the wood which, as I said, grew so readily,
made the grove impassable, except in some places, when they
climbed up to get over the outside part, and then went on by ways
of their own leaving.</p>
<p>As to the three reprobates, as I justly call them, though they
were much civilised by their settlement compared to what they
were before, and were not so quarrelsome, having not the same
opportunity; yet one of the certain companions of a profligate
mind never left them, and that was their idleness.&nbsp; It is
true, they planted corn and made fences; but Solomon&rsquo;s
words were never better verified than in them, &ldquo;I went by
the vineyard of the slothful, and it was all overgrown with
thorns&rdquo;: for when the Spaniards came to view their crop
they could not see it in some places for weeds, the hedge had
several gaps in it, where the wild goats had got in and eaten up
the corn; perhaps here and there a dead bush was crammed in, to
stop them out for the present, but it was only shutting the
stable-door after the steed was stolen.&nbsp; Whereas, when they
looked on the colony of the other two, there was the very face of
industry and success upon all they did; there was not a weed to
be seen in all their corn, or a gap in any of their hedges; and
they, on the other hand, verified Solomon&rsquo;s words in
another place, &ldquo;that the diligent hand maketh rich&rdquo;;
for everything grew and thrived, and they had plenty within and
without; they had more tame cattle than the others, more utensils
and necessaries within doors, and yet more pleasure and diversion
too.</p>
<p>It is true, the wives of the three were very handy and cleanly
within doors; and having learned the English ways of dressing,
and cooking from one of the other Englishmen, who, as I said, was
a cook&rsquo;s mate on board the ship, they dressed their
husbands&rsquo; victuals very nicely and well; whereas the others
could not be brought to understand it; but then the husband, who,
as I say, had been cook&rsquo;s mate, did it himself.&nbsp; But
as for the husbands of the three wives, they loitered about,
fetched turtles&rsquo; eggs, and caught fish and birds: in a
word, anything but labour; and they fared accordingly.&nbsp; The
diligent lived well and comfortably, and the slothful hard and
beggarly; and so, I believe, generally speaking, it is all over
the world.</p>
<p>But I now come to a scene different from all that had happened
before, either to them or to me; and the origin of the story was
this: Early one morning there came on shore five or six canoes of
Indians or savages, call them which you please, and there is no
room to doubt they came upon the old errand of feeding upon their
slaves; but that part was now so familiar to the Spaniards, and
to our men too, that they did not concern themselves about it, as
I did: but having been made sensible, by their experience, that
their only business was to lie concealed, and that if they were
not seen by any of the savages they would go off again quietly,
when their business was done, having as yet not the least notion
of there being any inhabitants in the island; I say, having been
made sensible of this, they had nothing to do but to give notice
to all the three plantations to keep within doors, and not show
themselves, only placing a scout in a proper place, to give
notice when the boats went to sea again.</p>
<p>This was, without doubt, very right; but a disaster spoiled
all these measures, and made it known among the savages that
there were inhabitants there; which was, in the end, the
desolation of almost the whole colony.&nbsp; After the canoes
with the savages were gone off, the Spaniards peeped abroad
again; and some of them had the curiosity to go to the place
where they had been, to see what they had been doing.&nbsp; Here,
to their great surprise, they found three savages left behind,
and lying fast asleep upon the ground.&nbsp; It was supposed they
had either been so gorged with their inhuman feast, that, like
beasts, they were fallen asleep, and would not stir when the
others went, or they had wandered into the woods, and did not
come back in time to be taken in.</p>
<p>The Spaniards were greatly surprised at this sight and
perfectly at a loss what to do.&nbsp; The Spaniard governor, as
it happened, was with them, and his advice was asked, but he
professed he knew not what to do.&nbsp; As for slaves, they had
enough already; and as to killing them, there were none of them
inclined to do that: the Spaniard governor told me they could not
think of shedding innocent blood; for as to them, the poor
creatures had done them no wrong, invaded none of their property,
and they thought they had no just quarrel against them, to take
away their lives.&nbsp; And here I must, in justice to these
Spaniards, observe that, let the accounts of Spanish cruelty in
Mexico and Peru be what they will, I never met with seventeen men
of any nation whatsoever, in any foreign country, who were so
universally modest, temperate, virtuous, so very good-humoured,
and so courteous, as these Spaniards: and as to cruelty, they had
nothing of it in their very nature; no inhumanity, no barbarity,
no outrageous passions; and yet all of them men of great courage
and spirit.&nbsp; Their temper and calmness had appeared in their
bearing the insufferable usage of the three Englishmen; and their
justice and humanity appeared now in the case of the savages
above.&nbsp; After some consultation they resolved upon this;
that they would lie still a while longer, till, if possible,
these three men might be gone.&nbsp; But then the governor
recollected that the three savages had no boat; and if they were
left to rove about the island, they would certainly discover that
there were inhabitants in it; and so they should be undone that
way.&nbsp; Upon this, they went back again, and there lay the
fellows fast asleep still, and so they resolved to awaken them,
and take them prisoners; and they did so.&nbsp; The poor fellows
were strangely frightened when they were seized upon and bound;
and afraid, like the women, that they should be murdered and
eaten: for it seems those people think all the world does as they
do, in eating men&rsquo;s flesh; but they were soon made easy as
to that, and away they carried them.</p>
<p>It was very happy for them that they did not carry them home
to the castle, I mean to my palace under the hill; but they
carried them first to the bower, where was the chief of their
country work, such as the keeping the goats, the planting the
corn, &amp;c.; and afterward they carried them to the habitation
of the two Englishmen.&nbsp; Here they were set to work, though
it was not much they had for them to do; and whether it was by
negligence in guarding them, or that they thought the fellows
could not mend themselves, I know not, but one of them ran away,
and, taking to the woods, they could never hear of him any
more.&nbsp; They had good reason to believe he got home again
soon after in some other boats or canoes of savages who came on
shore three or four weeks afterwards, and who, carrying on their
revels as usual, went off in two days&rsquo; time.&nbsp; This
thought terrified them exceedingly; for they concluded, and that
not without good cause indeed, that if this fellow came home safe
among his comrades, he would certainly give them an account that
there were people in the island, and also how few and weak they
were; for this savage, as observed before, had never been told,
and it was very happy he had not, how many there were or where
they lived; nor had he ever seen or heard the fire of any of
their guns, much less had they shown him any of their other
retired places; such as the cave in the valley, or the new
retreat which the two Englishmen had made, and the like.</p>
<p>The first testimony they had that this fellow had given
intelligence of them was, that about two months after this six
canoes of savages, with about seven, eight, or ten men in a
canoe, came rowing along the north side of the island, where they
never used to come before, and landed, about an hour after
sunrise, at a convenient place, about a mile from the habitation
of the two Englishmen, where this escaped man had been
kept.&nbsp; As the chief Spaniard said, had they been all there
the damage would not have been so much, for not a man of them
would have escaped; but the case differed now very much, for two
men to fifty was too much odds.&nbsp; The two men had the
happiness to discover them about a league off, so that it was
above an hour before they landed; and as they landed a mile from
their huts, it was some time before they could come at
them.&nbsp; Now, having great reason to believe that they were
betrayed, the first thing they did was to bind the two slaves
which were left, and cause two of the three men whom they brought
with the women (who, it seems, proved very faithful to them) to
lead them, with their two wives, and whatever they could carry
away with them, to their retired places in the woods, which I
have spoken of above, and there to bind the two fellows hand and
foot, till they heard farther.&nbsp; In the next place, seeing
the savages were all come on shore, and that they had bent their
course directly that way, they opened the fences where the milch
cows were kept, and drove them all out; leaving their goats to
straggle in the woods, whither they pleased, that the savages
might think they were all bred wild; but the rogue who came with
them was too cunning for that, and gave them an account of it
all, for they went directly to the place.</p>
<p>When the two poor frightened men had secured their wives and
goods, they sent the other slave they had of the three who came
with the women, and who was at their place by accident, away to
the Spaniards with all speed, to give them the alarm, and desire
speedy help, and, in the meantime, they took their arms and what
ammunition they had, and retreated towards the place in the wood
where their wives were sent; keeping at a distance, yet so that
they might see, if possible, which way the savages took.&nbsp;
They had not gone far but that from a rising ground they could
see the little army of their enemies come on directly to their
habitation, and, in a moment more, could see all their huts and
household stuff flaming up together, to their great grief and
mortification; for this was a great loss to them, irretrievable,
indeed, for some time.&nbsp; They kept their station for a while,
till they found the savages, like wild beasts, spread themselves
all over the place, rummaging every way, and every place they
could think of, in search of prey; and in particular for the
people, of whom now it plainly appeared they had
intelligence.</p>
<p>The two Englishmen seeing this, thinking themselves not secure
where they stood, because it was likely some of the wild people
might come that way, and they might come too many together,
thought it proper to make another retreat about half a mile
farther; believing, as it afterwards happened, that the further
they strolled, the fewer would be together.&nbsp; Their next halt
was at the entrance into a very thick-grown part of the woods,
and where an old trunk of a tree stood, which was hollow and very
large; and in this tree they both took their standing, resolving
to see there what might offer.&nbsp; They had not stood there
long before two of the savages appeared running directly that
way, as if they had already had notice where they stood, and were
coming up to attack them; and a little way farther they espied
three more coming after them, and five more beyond them, all
coming the same way; besides which, they saw seven or eight more
at a distance, running another way; for in a word, they ran every
way, like sportsmen beating for their game.</p>
<p>The poor men were now in great perplexity whether they should
stand and keep their posture or fly; but after a very short
debate with themselves, they considered that if the savages
ranged the country thus before help came, they might perhaps find
their retreat in the woods, and then all would be lost; so they
resolved to stand them there, and if they were too many to deal
with, then they would get up to the top of the tree, from whence
they doubted not to defend themselves, fire excepted, as long as
their ammunition lasted, though all the savages that were landed,
which was near fifty, were to attack them.</p>
<p>Having resolved upon this, they next considered whether they
should fire at the first two, or wait for the three, and so take
the middle party, by which the two and the five that followed
would be separated; at length they resolved to let the first two
pass by, unless they should spy them the tree, and come to attack
them.&nbsp; The first two savages confirmed them also in this
resolution, by turning a little from them towards another part of
the wood; but the three, and the five after them, came forward
directly to the tree, as if they had known the Englishmen were
there.&nbsp; Seeing them come so straight towards them, they
resolved to take them in a line as they came: and as they
resolved to fire but one at a time, perhaps the first shot might
hit them all three; for which purpose the man who was to fire put
three or four small bullets into his piece; and having a fair
loophole, as it were, from a broken hole in the tree, he took a
sure aim, without being seen, waiting till they were within about
thirty yards of the tree, so that he could not miss.</p>
<p>While they were thus waiting, and the savages came on, they
plainly saw that one of the three was the runaway savage that had
escaped from them; and they both knew him distinctly, and
resolved that, if possible, he should not escape, though they
should both fire; so the other stood ready with his piece, that
if he did not drop at the first shot, he should be sure to have a
second.&nbsp; But the first was too good a marksman to miss his
aim; for as the savages kept near one another, a little behind in
a line, he fired, and hit two of them directly; the foremost was
killed outright, being shot in the head; the second, which was
the runaway Indian, was shot through the body, and fell, but was
not quite dead; and the third had a little scratch in the
shoulder, perhaps by the same ball that went through the body of
the second; and being dreadfully frightened, though not so much
hurt, sat down upon the ground, screaming and yelling in a
hideous manner.</p>
<p>The five that were behind, more frightened with the noise than
sensible of the danger, stood still at first; for the woods made
the sound a thousand times bigger than it really was, the echoes
rattling from one side to another, and the fowls rising from all
parts, screaming, and every sort making a different noise,
according to their kind; just as it was when I fired the first
gun that perhaps was ever shot off in the island.</p>
<p>However, all being silent again, and they not knowing what the
matter was, came on unconcerned, till they came to the place
where their companions lay in a condition miserable enough.&nbsp;
Here the poor ignorant creatures, not sensible that they were
within reach of the same mischief, stood all together over the
wounded man, talking, and, as may be supposed, inquiring of him
how he came to be hurt; and who, it is very rational to believe,
told them that a flash of fire first, and immediately after that
thunder from their gods, had killed those two and wounded
him.&nbsp; This, I say, is rational; for nothing is more certain
than that, as they saw no man near them, so they had never heard
a gun in all their lives, nor so much as heard of a gun; neither
knew they anything of killing and wounding at a distance with
fire and bullets: if they had, one might reasonably believe they
would not have stood so unconcerned to view the fate of their
fellows, without some apprehensions of their own.</p>
<p>Our two men, as they confessed to me, were grieved to be
obliged to kill so many poor creatures, who had no notion of
their danger; yet, having them all thus in their power, and the
first having loaded his piece again, resolved to let fly both
together among them; and singling out, by agreement, which to aim
at, they shot together, and killed, or very much wounded, four of
them; the fifth, frightened even to death, though not hurt, fell
with the rest; so that our men, seeing them all fall together,
thought they had killed them all.</p>
<p>The belief that the savages were all killed made our two men
come boldly out from the tree before they had charged their guns,
which was a wrong step; and they were under some surprise when
they came to the place, and found no less than four of them
alive, and of them two very little hurt, and one not at
all.&nbsp; This obliged them to fall upon them with the stocks of
their muskets; and first they made sure of the runaway savage,
that had been the cause of all the mischief, and of another that
was hurt in the knee, and put them out of their pain; then the
man that was not hurt at all came and kneeled down to them, with
his two hands held up, and made piteous moans to them, by
gestures and signs, for his life, but could not say one word to
them that they could understand.&nbsp; However, they made signs
to him to sit down at the foot of a tree hard by; and one of the
Englishmen, with a piece of rope-yarn, which he had by great
chance in his pocket, tied his two hands behind him, and there
they left him; and with what speed they could made after the
other two, which were gone before, fearing they, or any more of
them, should find way to their covered place in the woods, where
their wives, and the few goods they had left, lay.&nbsp; They
came once in sight of the two men, but it was at a great
distance; however, they had the satisfaction to see them cross
over a valley towards the sea, quite the contrary way from that
which led to their retreat, which they were afraid of; and being
satisfied with that, they went back to the tree where they left
their prisoner, who, as they supposed, was delivered by his
comrades, for he was gone, and the two pieces of rope-yarn with
which they had bound him lay just at the foot of the tree.</p>
<p>They were now in as great concern as before, not knowing what
course to take, or how near the enemy might be, or in what
number; so they resolved to go away to the place where their
wives were, to see if all was well there, and to make them
easy.&nbsp; These were in fright enough, to be sure; for though
the savages were their own countrymen, yet they were most
terribly afraid of them, and perhaps the more for the knowledge
they had of them.&nbsp; When they came there, they found the
savages had been in the wood, and very near that place, but had
not found it; for it was indeed inaccessible, from the trees
standing so thick, unless the persons seeking it had been
directed by those that knew it, which these did not: they found,
therefore, everything very safe, only the women in a terrible
fright.&nbsp; While they were here they had the comfort to have
seven of the Spaniards come to their assistance; the other ten,
with their servants, and Friday&rsquo;s father, were gone in a
body to defend their bower, and the corn and cattle that were
kept there, in case the savages should have roved over to that
side of the country, but they did not spread so far.&nbsp; With
the seven Spaniards came one of the three savages, who, as I
said, were their prisoners formerly; and with them also came the
savage whom the Englishmen had left bound hand and foot at the
tree; for it seems they came that way, saw the slaughter of the
seven men, and unbound the eighth, and brought him along with
them; where, however, they were obliged to bind again, as they
had the two others who were left when the third ran away.</p>
<p>The prisoners now began to be a burden to them; and they were
so afraid of their escaping, that they were once resolving to
kill them all, believing they were under an absolute necessity to
do so for their own preservation.&nbsp; However, the chief of the
Spaniards would not consent to it, but ordered, for the present,
that they should be sent out of the way to my old cave in the
valley, and be kept there, with two Spaniards to guard them, and
have food for their subsistence, which was done; and they were
bound there hand and foot for that night.</p>
<p>When the Spaniards came, the two Englishmen were so
encouraged, that they could not satisfy themselves to stay any
longer there; but taking five of the Spaniards, and themselves,
with four muskets and a pistol among them, and two stout
quarter-staves, away they went in quest of the savages.&nbsp; And
first they came to the tree where the men lay that had been
killed; but it was easy to see that some more of the savages had
been there, for they had attempted to carry their dead men away,
and had dragged two of them a good way, but had given it
over.&nbsp; From thence they advanced to the first rising ground,
where they had stood and seen their camp destroyed, and where
they had the mortification still to see some of the smoke; but
neither could they here see any of the savages.&nbsp; They then
resolved, though with all possible caution, to go forward towards
their ruined plantation; but, a little before they came thither,
coming in sight of the sea-shore, they saw plainly the savages
all embarked again in their canoes, in order to be gone.&nbsp;
They seemed sorry at first that there was no way to come at them,
to give them a parting blow; but, upon the whole, they were very
well satisfied to be rid of them.</p>
<p>The poor Englishmen being now twice ruined, and all their
improvements destroyed, the rest all agreed to come and help them
to rebuild, and assist them with needful supplies.&nbsp; Their
three countrymen, who were not yet noted for having the least
inclination to do any good, yet as soon as they heard of it (for
they, living remote eastward, knew nothing of the matter till all
was over), came and offered their help and assistance, and did,
very friendly, work for several days to restore their habitation
and make necessaries for them.&nbsp; And thus in a little time
they were set upon their legs again.</p>
<p>About two days after this they had the farther satisfaction of
seeing three of the savages&rsquo; canoes come driving on shore,
and, at some distance from them, two drowned men, by which they
had reason to believe that they had met with a storm at sea,
which had overset some of them; for it had blown very hard the
night after they went off.&nbsp; However, as some might miscarry,
so, on the other hand, enough of them escaped to inform the rest,
as well of what they had done as of what had happened to them;
and to whet them on to another enterprise of the same nature,
which they, it seems, resolved to attempt, with sufficient force
to carry all before them; for except what the first man had told
them of inhabitants, they could say little of it of their own
knowledge, for they never saw one man; and the fellow being
killed that had affirmed it, they had no other witness to confirm
it to, them.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER V&mdash;A GREAT VICTORY</h2>
<p>It was five or six months after this before they heard any
more of the savages, in which time our men were in hopes they had
either forgot their former bad luck, or given over hopes of
better; when, on a sudden, they were invaded with a most
formidable fleet of no less than eight-and-twenty canoes, full of
savages, armed with bows and arrows, great clubs, wooden swords,
and such like engines of war; and they brought such numbers with
them, that, in short, it put all our people into the utmost
consternation.</p>
<p>As they came on shore in the evening, and at the easternmost
side of the island, our men had that night to consult and
consider what to do.&nbsp; In the first place, knowing that their
being entirely concealed was their only safety before and would
be much more so now, while the number of their enemies would be
so great, they resolved, first of all, to take down the huts
which were built for the two Englishmen, and drive away their
goats to the old cave; because they supposed the savages would go
directly thither, as soon as it was day, to play the old game
over again, though they did not now land within two leagues of
it.&nbsp; In the next place, they drove away all the flocks of
goats they had at the old bower, as I called it, which belonged
to the Spaniards; and, in short, left as little appearance of
inhabitants anywhere as was possible; and the next morning early
they posted themselves, with all their force, at the plantation
of the two men, to wait for their coming.&nbsp; As they guessed,
so it happened: these new invaders, leaving their canoes at the
east end of the island, came ranging along the shore, directly
towards the place, to the number of two hundred and fifty, as
near as our men could judge.&nbsp; Our army was but small indeed;
but, that which was worse, they had not arms for all their
number.&nbsp; The whole account, it seems, stood thus: first, as
to men, seventeen Spaniards, five Englishmen, old Friday, the
three slaves taken with the women, who proved very faithful, and
three other slaves, who lived with the Spaniards.&nbsp; To arm
these, they had eleven muskets, five pistols, three
fowling-pieces, five muskets or fowling-pieces which were taken
by me from the mutinous seamen whom I reduced, two swords, and
three old halberds.</p>
<p>To their slaves they did not give either musket or fusee; but
they had each a halberd, or a long staff, like a quarter-staff,
with a great spike of iron fastened into each end of it, and by
his side a hatchet; also every one of our men had a
hatchet.&nbsp; Two of the women could not be prevailed upon but
they would come into the fight, and they had bows and arrows,
which the Spaniards had taken from the savages when the first
action happened, which I have spoken of, where the Indians fought
with one another; and the women had hatchets too.</p>
<p>The chief Spaniard, whom I described so often, commanded the
whole; and Will Atkins, who, though a dreadful fellow for
wickedness, was a most daring, bold fellow, commanded under
him.&nbsp; The savages came forward like lions; and our men,
which was the worst of their fate, had no advantage in their
situation; only that Will Atkins, who now proved a most useful
fellow, with six men, was planted just behind a small thicket of
bushes as an advanced guard, with orders to let the first of them
pass by and then fire into the middle of them, and as soon as he
had fired, to make his retreat as nimbly as he could round a part
of the wood, and so come in behind the Spaniards, where they
stood, having a thicket of trees before them.</p>
<p>When the savages came on, they ran straggling about every way
in heaps, out of all manner of order, and Will Atkins let about
fifty of them pass by him; then seeing the rest come in a very
thick throng, he orders three of his men to fire, having loaded
their muskets with six or seven bullets apiece, about as big as
large pistol-bullets.&nbsp; How many they killed or wounded they
knew not, but the consternation and surprise was inexpressible
among the savages; they were frightened to the last degree to
hear such a dreadful noise, and see their men killed, and others
hurt, but see nobody that did it; when, in the middle of their
fright, Will Atkins and his other three let fly again among the
thickest of them; and in less than a minute the first three,
being loaded again, gave them a third volley.</p>
<p>Had Will Atkins and his men retired immediately, as soon as
they had fired, as they were ordered to do, or had the rest of
the body been at hand to have poured in their shot continually,
the savages had been effectually routed; for the terror that was
among them came principally from this, that they were killed by
the gods with thunder and lightning, and could see nobody that
hurt them.&nbsp; But Will Atkins, staying to load again,
discovered the cheat: some of the savages who were at a distance
spying them, came upon them behind; and though Atkins and his men
fired at them also, two or three times, and killed above twenty,
retiring as fast as they could, yet they wounded Atkins himself,
and killed one of his fellow-Englishmen with their arrows, as
they did afterwards one Spaniard, and one of the Indian slaves
who came with the women.&nbsp; This slave was a most gallant
fellow, and fought most desperately, killing five of them with
his own hand, having no weapon but one of the armed staves and a
hatchet.</p>
<p>Our men being thus hard laid at, Atkins wounded, and two other
men killed, retreated to a rising ground in the wood; and the
Spaniards, after firing three volleys upon them, retreated also;
for their number was so great, and they were so desperate, that
though above fifty of them were killed, and more than as many
wounded, yet they came on in the teeth of our men, fearless of
danger, and shot their arrows like a cloud; and it was observed
that their wounded men, who were not quite disabled, were made
outrageous by their wounds, and fought like madmen.</p>
<p>When our men retreated, they left the Spaniard and the
Englishman that were killed behind them: and the savages, when
they came up to them, killed them over again in a wretched
manner, breaking their arms, legs, and heads, with their clubs
and wooden swords, like true savages; but finding our men were
gone, they did not seem inclined to pursue them, but drew
themselves up in a ring, which is, it seems, their custom, and
shouted twice, in token of their victory; after which, they had
the mortification to see several of their wounded men fall, dying
with the mere loss of blood.</p>
<p>The Spaniard governor having drawn his little body up together
upon a rising ground, Atkins, though he was wounded, would have
had them march and charge again all together at once: but the
Spaniard replied, &ldquo;Seignior Atkins, you see how their
wounded men fight; let them alone till morning; all the wounded
men will be stiff and sore with their wounds, and faint with the
loss of blood; and so we shall have the fewer to
engage.&rdquo;&nbsp; This advice was good: but Will Atkins
replied merrily, &ldquo;That is true, seignior, and so shall I
too; and that is the reason I would go on while I am
warm.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, Seignior Atkins,&rdquo; says the
Spaniard, &ldquo;you have behaved gallantly, and done your part;
we will fight for you if you cannot come on; but I think it best
to stay till morning:&rdquo; so they waited.</p>
<p>But as it was a clear moonlight night, and they found the
savages in great disorder about their dead and wounded men, and a
great noise and hurry among them where they lay, they afterwards
resolved to fall upon them in the night, especially if they could
come to give them but one volley before they were discovered,
which they had a fair opportunity to do; for one of the
Englishmen in whose quarter it was where the fight began, led
them round between the woods and the seaside westward, and then
turning short south, they came so near where the thickest of them
lay, that before they were seen or heard eight of them fired in
among them, and did dreadful execution upon them; in half a
minute more eight others fired after them, pouring in their small
shot in such a quantity that abundance were killed and wounded;
and all this while they were not able to see who hurt them, or
which way to fly.</p>
<p>The Spaniards charged again with the utmost expedition, and
then divided themselves into three bodies, and resolved to fall
in among them all together.&nbsp; They had in each body eight
persons, that is to say, twenty-two men and the two women, who,
by the way, fought desperately.&nbsp; They divided the firearms
equally in each party, as well as the halberds and staves.&nbsp;
They would have had the women kept back, but they said they were
resolved to die with their husbands.&nbsp; Having thus formed
their little army, they marched out from among the trees, and
came up to the teeth of the enemy, shouting and hallooing as loud
as they could; the savages stood all together, but were in the
utmost confusion, hearing the noise of our men shouting from
three quarters together.&nbsp; They would have fought if they had
seen us; for as soon as we came near enough to be seen, some
arrows were shot, and poor old Friday was wounded, though not
dangerously.&nbsp; But our men gave them no time, but running up
to them, fired among them three ways, and then fell in with the
butt-ends of their muskets, their swords, armed staves, and
hatchets, and laid about them so well that, in a word, they set
up a dismal screaming and howling, flying to save their lives
which way soever they could.</p>
<p>Our men were tired with the execution, and killed or mortally
wounded in the two fights about one hundred and eighty of them;
the rest, being frightened out of their wits, scoured through the
woods and over the hills, with all the speed that fear and nimble
feet could help them to; and as we did not trouble ourselves much
to pursue them, they got all together to the seaside, where they
landed, and where their canoes lay.&nbsp; But their disaster was
not at an end yet; for it blew a terrible storm of wind that
evening from the sea, so that it was impossible for them to go
off; nay, the storm continuing all night, when the tide came up
their canoes were most of them driven by the surge of the sea so
high upon the shore that it required infinite toil to get them
off; and some of them were even dashed to pieces against the
beach.&nbsp; Our men, though glad of their victory, yet got
little rest that night; but having refreshed themselves as well
as they could, they resolved to march to that part of the island
where the savages were fled, and see what posture they were
in.&nbsp; This necessarily led them over the place where the
fight had been, and where they found several of the poor
creatures not quite dead, and yet past recovering life; a sight
disagreeable enough to generous minds, for a truly great man
though obliged by the law of battle to destroy his enemy, takes
no delight in his misery.&nbsp; However, there was no need to
give any orders in this case; for their own savages, who were
their servants, despatched these poor creatures with their
hatchets.</p>
<p>At length they came in view of the place where the more
miserable remains of the savages&rsquo; army lay, where there
appeared about a hundred still; their posture was generally
sitting upon the ground, with their knees up towards their mouth,
and the head put between the two hands, leaning down upon the
knees.&nbsp; When our men came within two musket-shots of them,
the Spaniard governor ordered two muskets to be fired without
ball, to alarm them; this he did, that by their countenance he
might know what to expect, whether they were still in heart to
fight, or were so heartily beaten as to be discouraged, and so he
might manage accordingly.&nbsp; This stratagem took: for as soon
as the savages heard the first gun, and saw the flash of the
second, they started up upon their feet in the greatest
consternation imaginable; and as our men advanced swiftly towards
them, they all ran screaming and yelling away, with a kind of
howling noise, which our men did not understand, and had never
heard before; and thus they ran up the hills into the
country.</p>
<p>At first our men had much rather the weather had been calm,
and they had all gone away to sea: but they did not then consider
that this might probably have been the occasion of their coming
again in such multitudes as not to be resisted, or, at least, to
come so many and so often as would quite desolate the island, and
starve them.&nbsp; Will Atkins, therefore, who notwithstanding
his wound kept always with them, proved the best counsellor in
this case: his advice was, to take the advantage that offered,
and step in between them and their boats, and so deprive them of
the capacity of ever returning any more to plague the
island.&nbsp; They consulted long about this; and some were
against it for fear of making the wretches fly to the woods and
live there desperate, and so they should have them to hunt like
wild beasts, be afraid to stir out about their business, and have
their plantations continually rifled, all their tame goats
destroyed, and, in short, be reduced to a life of continual
distress.</p>
<p>Will Atkins told them they had better have to do with a
hundred men than with a hundred nations; that, as they must
destroy their boats, so they must destroy the men, or be all of
them destroyed themselves.&nbsp; In a word, he showed them the
necessity of it so plainly that they all came into it; so they
went to work immediately with the boats, and getting some dry
wood together from a dead tree, they tried to set some of them on
fire, but they were so wet that they would not burn; however, the
fire so burned the upper part that it soon made them unfit for
use at sea.</p>
<p>When the Indians saw what they were about, some of them came
running out of the woods, and coming as near as they could to our
men, kneeled down and cried, &ldquo;Oa, Oa, Waramokoa,&rdquo; and
some other words of their language, which none of the others
understood anything of; but as they made pitiful gestures and
strange noises, it was easy to understand they begged to have
their boats spared, and that they would be gone, and never come
there again.&nbsp; But our men were now satisfied that they had
no way to preserve themselves, or to save their colony, but
effectually to prevent any of these people from ever going home
again; depending upon this, that if even so much as one of them
got back into their country to tell the story, the colony was
undone; so that, letting them know that they should not have any
mercy, they fell to work with their canoes, and destroyed every
one that the storm had not destroyed before; at the sight of
which, the savages raised a hideous cry in the woods, which our
people heard plain enough, after which they ran about the island
like distracted men, so that, in a word, our men did not really
know what at first to do with them.&nbsp; Nor did the Spaniards,
with all their prudence, consider that while they made those
people thus desperate, they ought to have kept a good guard at
the same time upon their plantations; for though it is true they
had driven away their cattle, and the Indians did not find out
their main retreat, I mean my old castle at the hill, nor the
cave in the valley, yet they found out my plantation at the
bower, and pulled it all to pieces, and all the fences and
planting about it; trod all the corn under foot, tore up the
vines and grapes, being just then almost ripe, and did our men
inestimable damage, though to themselves not one farthing&rsquo;s
worth of service.</p>
<p>Though our men were able to fight them upon all occasions, yet
they were in no condition to pursue them, or hunt them up and
down; for as they were too nimble of foot for our people when
they found them single, so our men durst not go abroad single,
for fear of being surrounded with their numbers.&nbsp; The best
was they had no weapons; for though they had bows, they had no
arrows left, nor any materials to make any; nor had they any
edge-tool among them.&nbsp; The extremity and distress they were
reduced to was great, and indeed deplorable; but, at the same
time, our men were also brought to very bad circumstances by
them, for though their retreats were preserved, yet their
provision was destroyed, and their harvest spoiled, and what to
do, or which way to turn themselves, they knew not.&nbsp; The
only refuge they had now was the stock of cattle they had in the
valley by the cave, and some little corn which grew there, and
the plantation of the three Englishmen.&nbsp; Will Atkins and his
comrades were now reduced to two; one of them being killed by an
arrow, which struck him on the side of his head, just under the
temple, so that he never spoke more; and it was very remarkable
that this was the same barbarous fellow that cut the poor savage
slave with his hatchet, and who afterwards intended to have
murdered the Spaniards.</p>
<p>I looked upon their case to have been worse at this time than
mine was at any time, after I first discovered the grains of
barley and rice, and got into the manner of planting and raising
my corn, and my tame cattle; for now they had, as I may say, a
hundred wolves upon the island, which would devour everything
they could come at, yet could be hardly come at themselves.</p>
<p>When they saw what their circumstances were, the first thing
they concluded was, that they would, if possible, drive the
savages up to the farther part of the island, south-west, that if
any more came on shore they might not find one another; then,
that they would daily hunt and harass them, and kill as many of
them as they could come at, till they had reduced their number;
and if they could at last tame them, and bring them to anything,
they would give them corn, and teach them how to plant, and live
upon their daily labour.&nbsp; In order to do this, they so
followed them, and so terrified them with their guns, that in a
few days, if any of them fired a gun at an Indian, if he did not
hit him, yet he would fall down for fear.&nbsp; So dreadfully
frightened were they that they kept out of sight farther and
farther; till at last our men followed them, and almost every day
killing or wounding some of them, they kept up in the woods or
hollow places so much, that it reduced them to the utmost misery
for want of food; and many were afterwards found dead in the
woods, without any hurt, absolutely starved to death.</p>
<p>When our men found this, it made their hearts relent, and pity
moved them, especially the generous-minded Spaniard governor; and
he proposed, if possible, to take one of them alive and bring him
to understand what they meant, so far as to be able to act as
interpreter, and go among them and see if they might be brought
to some conditions that might be depended upon, to save their
lives and do us no harm.</p>
<p>It was some while before any of them could be taken; but being
weak and half-starved, one of them was at last surprised and made
a prisoner.&nbsp; He was sullen at first, and would neither eat
nor drink; but finding himself kindly used, and victuals given to
him, and no violence offered him, he at last grew tractable, and
came to himself.&nbsp; They often brought old Friday to talk to
him, who always told him how kind the others would be to them
all; that they would not only save their lives, but give them
part of the island to live in, provided they would give
satisfaction that they would keep in their own bounds, and not
come beyond it to injure or prejudice others; and that they
should have corn given them to plant and make it grow for their
bread, and some bread given them for their present subsistence;
and old Friday bade the fellow go and talk with the rest of his
countrymen, and see what they said to it; assuring them that, if
they did not agree immediately, they should be all destroyed.</p>
<p>The poor wretches, thoroughly humbled, and reduced in number
to about thirty-seven, closed with the proposal at the first
offer, and begged to have some food given them; upon which twelve
Spaniards and two Englishmen, well armed, with three Indian
slaves and old Friday, marched to the place where they
were.&nbsp; The three Indian slaves carried them a large quantity
of bread, some rice boiled up to cakes and dried in the sun, and
three live goats; and they were ordered to go to the side of a
hill, where they sat down, ate their provisions very thankfully,
and were the most faithful fellows to their words that could be
thought of; for, except when they came to beg victuals and
directions, they never came out of their bounds; and there they
lived when I came to the island and I went to see them.&nbsp;
They had taught them both to plant corn, make bread, breed tame
goats, and milk them: they wanted nothing but wives in order for
them soon to become a nation.&nbsp; They were confined to a neck
of land, surrounded with high rocks behind them, and lying plain
towards the sea before them, on the south-east corner of the
island.&nbsp; They had land enough, and it was very good and
fruitful; about a mile and a half broad, and three or four miles
in length.&nbsp; Our men taught them to make wooden spades, such
as I made for myself, and gave among them twelve hatchets and
three or four knives; and there they lived, the most subjected,
innocent creatures that ever were heard of.</p>
<p>After this the colony enjoyed a perfect tranquillity with
respect to the savages, till I came to revisit them, which was
about two years after; not but that, now and then, some canoes of
savages came on shore for their triumphal, unnatural feasts; but
as they were of several nations, and perhaps had never heard of
those that came before, or the reason of it, they did not make
any search or inquiry after their countrymen; and if they had, it
would have been very hard to have found them out.</p>
<p>Thus, I think, I have given a full account of all that
happened to them till my return, at least that was worth
notice.&nbsp; The Indians were wonderfully civilised by them, and
they frequently went among them; but they forbid, on pain of
death, any one of the Indians coming to them, because they would
not have their settlement betrayed again.&nbsp; One thing was
very remarkable, viz. that they taught the savages to make
wicker-work, or baskets, but they soon outdid their masters: for
they made abundance of ingenious things in wicker-work,
particularly baskets, sieves, bird-cages, cupboards, &amp;c.; as
also chairs, stools, beds, couches, being very ingenious at such
work when they were once put in the way of it.</p>
<p>My coming was a particular relief to these people, because we
furnished them with knives, scissors, spades, shovels, pick-axes,
and all things of that kind which they could want.&nbsp; With the
help of those tools they were so very handy that they came at
last to build up their huts or houses very handsomely, raddling
or working it up like basket-work all the way round.&nbsp; This
piece of ingenuity, although it looked very odd, was an exceeding
good fence, as well against heat as against all sorts of vermin;
and our men were so taken with it that they got the Indians to
come and do the like for them; so that when I came to see the two
Englishmen&rsquo;s colonies, they looked at a distance as if they
all lived like bees in a hive.</p>
<p>As for Will Atkins, who was now become a very industrious,
useful, and sober fellow, he had made himself such a tent of
basket-work as I believe was never seen; it was one hundred and
twenty paces round on the outside, as I measured by my steps; the
walls were as close worked as a basket, in panels or squares of
thirty-two in number, and very strong, standing about seven feet
high; in the middle was another not above twenty-two paces round,
but built stronger, being octagon in its form, and in the eight
corners stood eight very strong posts; round the top of which he
laid strong pieces, knit together with wooden pins, from which he
raised a pyramid for a handsome roof of eight rafters, joined
together very well, though he had no nails, and only a few iron
spikes, which he made himself, too, out of the old iron that I
had left there.&nbsp; Indeed, this fellow showed abundance of
ingenuity in several things which he had no knowledge of: he made
him a forge, with a pair of wooden bellows to blow the fire; he
made himself charcoal for his work; and he formed out of the iron
crows a middling good anvil to hammer upon: in this manner he
made many things, but especially hooks, staples, and spikes,
bolts and hinges.&nbsp; But to return to the house: after he had
pitched the roof of his innermost tent, he worked it up between
the rafters with basket-work, so firm, and thatched that over
again so ingeniously with rice-straw, and over that a large leaf
of a tree, which covered the top, that his house was as dry as if
it had been tiled or slated.&nbsp; He owned, indeed, that the
savages had made the basket-work for him.&nbsp; The outer circuit
was covered as a lean-to all round this inner apartment, and long
rafters lay from the thirty-two angles to the top posts of the
inner house, being about twenty feet distant, so that there was a
space like a walk within the outer wicker-wall, and without the
inner, near twenty feet wide.</p>
<p>The inner place he partitioned off with the same wickerwork,
but much fairer, and divided into six apartments, so that he had
six rooms on a floor, and out of every one of these there was a
door: first into the entry, or coming into the main tent, another
door into the main tent, and another door into the space or walk
that was round it; so that walk was also divided into six equal
parts, which served not only for a retreat, but to store up any
necessaries which the family had occasion for.&nbsp; These six
spaces not taking up the whole circumference, what other
apartments the outer circle had were thus ordered: As soon as you
were in at the door of the outer circle you had a short passage
straight before you to the door of the inner house; but on either
side was a wicker partition and a door in it, by which you went
first into a large room or storehouse, twenty feet wide and about
thirty feet long, and through that into another not quite so
long; so that in the outer circle were ten handsome rooms, six of
which were only to be come at through the apartments of the inner
tent, and served as closets or retiring rooms to the respective
chambers of the inner circle; and four large warehouses, or
barns, or what you please to call them, which went through one
another, two on either hand of the passage, that led through the
outer door to the inner tent.&nbsp; Such a piece of basket-work,
I believe, was never seen in the world, nor a house or tent so
neatly contrived, much less so built.&nbsp; In this great
bee-hive lived the three families, that is to say, Will Atkins
and his companion; the third was killed, but his wife remained
with three children, and the other two were not at all backward
to give the widow her full share of everything, I mean as to
their corn, milk, grapes, &amp;c., and when they killed a kid, or
found a turtle on the shore; so that they all lived well enough;
though it was true they were not so industrious as the other two,
as has been observed already.</p>
<p>One thing, however, cannot be omitted, viz. that as for
religion, I do not know that there was anything of that kind
among them; they often, indeed, put one another in mind that
there was a God, by the very common method of seamen, swearing by
His name: nor were their poor ignorant savage wives much better
for having been married to Christians, as we must call them; for
as they knew very little of God themselves, so they were utterly
incapable of entering into any discourse with their wives about a
God, or to talk anything to them concerning religion.</p>
<p>The utmost of all the improvement which I can say the wives
had made from them was, that they had taught them to speak
English pretty well; and most of their children, who were near
twenty in all, were taught to speak English too, from their first
learning to speak, though they at first spoke it in a very broken
manner, like their mothers.&nbsp; None of these children were
above six years old when I came thither, for it was not much
above seven years since they had fetched these five savage ladies
over; they had all children, more or less: the mothers were all a
good sort of well-governed, quiet, laborious women, modest and
decent, helpful to one another, mighty observant, and subject to
their masters (I cannot call them husbands), and lacked nothing
but to be well instructed in the Christian religion, and to be
legally married; both of which were happily brought about
afterwards by my means, or at least in consequence of my coming
among them.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE FRENCH CLERGYMAN&rsquo;S COUNSEL</h2>
<p>Having thus given an account of the colony in general, and
pretty much of my runagate Englishmen, I must say something of
the Spaniards, who were the main body of the family, and in whose
story there are some incidents also remarkable enough.</p>
<p>I had a great many discourses with them about their
circumstances when they were among the savages.&nbsp; They told
me readily that they had no instances to give of their
application or ingenuity in that country; that they were a poor,
miserable, dejected handful of people; that even if means had
been put into their hands, yet they had so abandoned themselves
to despair, and were so sunk under the weight of their
misfortune, that they thought of nothing but starving.&nbsp; One
of them, a grave and sensible man, told me he was convinced they
were in the wrong; that it was not the part of wise men to give
themselves up to their misery, but always to take hold of the
helps which reason offered, as well for present support as for
future deliverance: he told me that grief was the most senseless,
insignificant passion in the world, for that it regarded only
things past, which were generally impossible to be recalled or to
be remedied, but had no views of things to come, and had no share
in anything that looked like deliverance, but rather added to the
affliction than proposed a remedy; and upon this he repeated a
Spanish proverb, which, though I cannot repeat in the same words
that he spoke it in, yet I remember I made it into an English
proverb of my own, thus:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;In trouble to be troubled,<br />
Is to have your trouble doubled.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He then ran on in remarks upon all the little improvements I
had made in my solitude: my unwearied application, as he called
it; and how I had made a condition, which in its circumstances
was at first much worse than theirs, a thousand times more happy
than theirs was, even now when they were all together.&nbsp; He
told me it was remarkable that Englishmen had a greater presence
of mind in their distress than any people that ever he met with;
that their unhappy nation and the Portuguese were the worst men
in the world to struggle with misfortunes; for that their first
step in dangers, after the common efforts were over, was to
despair, lie down under it, and die, without rousing their
thoughts up to proper remedies for escape.</p>
<p>I told him their case and mine differed exceedingly; that they
were cast upon the shore without necessaries, without supply of
food, or present sustenance till they could provide for it; that,
it was true, I had this further disadvantage and discomfort, that
I was alone; but then the supplies I had providentially thrown
into my hands, by the unexpected driving of the ship on the
shore, was such a help as would have encouraged any creature in
the world to have applied himself as I had done.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Seignior,&rdquo; says the Spaniard, &ldquo;had we poor
Spaniards been in your case, we should never have got half those
things out of the ship, as you did: nay,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;we should never have found means to have got a raft to
carry them, or to have got the raft on shore without boat or
sail: and how much less should we have done if any of us had been
alone!&rdquo;&nbsp; Well, I desired him to abate his compliments,
and go on with the history of their coming on shore, where they
landed.&nbsp; He told me they unhappily landed at a place where
there were people without provisions; whereas, had they had the
common sense to put off to sea again, and gone to another island
a little further, they had found provisions, though without
people: there being an island that way, as they had been told,
where there were provisions, though no people&mdash;that is to
say, that the Spaniards of Trinidad had frequently been there,
and had filled the island with goats and hogs at several times,
where they had bred in such multitudes, and where turtle and
sea-fowls were in such plenty, that they could have been in no
want of flesh, though they had found no bread; whereas, here they
were only sustained with a few roots and herbs, which they
understood not, and which had no substance in them, and which the
inhabitants gave them sparingly enough; and they could treat them
no better, unless they would turn cannibals and eat men&rsquo;s
flesh.</p>
<p>They gave me an account how many ways they strove to civilise
the savages they were with, and to teach them rational customs in
the ordinary way of living, but in vain; and how they retorted
upon them as unjust that they who came there for assistance and
support should attempt to set up for instructors to those that
gave them food; intimating, it seems, that none should set up for
the instructors of others but those who could live without
them.&nbsp; They gave me dismal accounts of the extremities they
were driven to; how sometimes they were many days without any
food at all, the island they were upon being inhabited by a sort
of savages that lived more indolent, and for that reason were
less supplied with the necessaries of life, than they had reason
to believe others were in the same part of the world; and yet
they found that these savages were less ravenous and voracious
than those who had better supplies of food.&nbsp; Also, they
added, they could not but see with what demonstrations of wisdom
and goodness the governing providence of God directs the events
of things in this world, which, they said, appeared in their
circumstances: for if, pressed by the hardships they were under,
and the barrenness of the country where they were, they had
searched after a better to live in, they had then been out of the
way of the relief that happened to them by my means.</p>
<p>They then gave me an account how the savages whom they lived
amongst expected them to go out with them into their wars; and,
it was true, that as they had firearms with them, had they not
had the disaster to lose their ammunition, they could have been
serviceable not only to their friends, but have made themselves
terrible both to friends and enemies; but being without powder
and shot, and yet in a condition that they could not in reason
decline to go out with their landlords to their wars; so when
they came into the field of battle they were in a worse condition
than the savages themselves, for they had neither bows nor
arrows, nor could they use those the savages gave them.&nbsp; So
they could do nothing but stand still and be wounded with arrows,
till they came up to the teeth of the enemy; and then, indeed,
the three halberds they had were of use to them; and they would
often drive a whole little army before them with those halberds,
and sharpened sticks put into the muzzles of their muskets.&nbsp;
But for all this they were sometimes surrounded with multitudes,
and in great danger from their arrows, till at last they found
the way to make themselves large targets of wood, which they
covered with skins of wild beasts, whose names they knew not, and
these covered them from the arrows of the savages: that,
notwithstanding these, they were sometimes in great danger; and
five of them were once knocked down together with the clubs of
the savages, which was the time when one of them was taken
prisoner&mdash;that is to say, the Spaniard whom I
relieved.&nbsp; At first they thought he had been killed; but
when they afterwards heard he was taken prisoner, they were under
the greatest grief imaginable, and would willingly have all
ventured their lives to have rescued him.</p>
<p>They told me that when they were so knocked down, the rest of
their company rescued them, and stood over them fighting till
they were come to themselves, all but him whom they thought had
been dead; and then they made their way with their halberds and
pieces, standing close together in a line, through a body of
above a thousand savages, beating down all that came in their
way, got the victory over their enemies, but to their great
sorrow, because it was with the loss of their friend, whom the
other party finding alive, carried off with some others, as I
gave an account before.&nbsp; They described, most
affectionately, how they were surprised with joy at the return of
their friend and companion in misery, who they thought had been
devoured by wild beasts of the worst kind&mdash;wild men; and
yet, how more and more they were surprised with the account he
gave them of his errand, and that there was a Christian in any
place near, much more one that was able, and had humanity enough,
to contribute to their deliverance.</p>
<p>They described how they were astonished at the sight of the
relief I sent them, and at the appearance of loaves of
bread&mdash;things they had not seen since their coming to that
miserable place; how often they crossed it and blessed it as
bread sent from heaven; and what a reviving cordial it was to
their spirits to taste it, as also the other things I had sent
for their supply; and, after all, they would have told me
something of the joy they were in at the sight of a boat and
pilots, to carry them away to the person and place from whence
all these new comforts came.&nbsp; But it was impossible to
express it by words, for their excessive joy naturally driving
them to unbecoming extravagances, they had no way to describe
them but by telling me they bordered upon lunacy, having no way
to give vent to their passions suitable to the sense that was
upon them; that in some it worked one way and in some another;
and that some of them, through a surprise of joy, would burst
into tears, others be stark mad, and others immediately
faint.&nbsp; This discourse extremely affected me, and called to
my mind Friday&rsquo;s ecstasy when he met his father, and the
poor people&rsquo;s ecstasy when I took them up at sea after
their ship was on fire; the joy of the mate of the ship when he
found himself delivered in the place where he expected to perish;
and my own joy, when, after twenty-eight years&rsquo; captivity,
I found a good ship ready to carry me to my own country.&nbsp;
All these things made me more sensible of the relation of these
poor men, and more affected with it.</p>
<p>Having thus given a view of the state of things as I found
them, I must relate the heads of what I did for these people, and
the condition in which I left them.&nbsp; It was their opinion,
and mine too, that they would be troubled no more with the
savages, or if they were, they would be able to cut them off, if
they were twice as many as before; so they had no concern about
that.&nbsp; Then I entered into a serious discourse with the
Spaniard, whom I call governor, about their stay in the island;
for as I was not come to carry any of them off, so it would not
be just to carry off some and leave others, who, perhaps, would
be unwilling to stay if their strength was diminished.&nbsp; On
the other hand, I told them I came to establish them there, not
to remove them; and then I let them know that I had brought with
me relief of sundry kinds for them; that I had been at a great
charge to supply them with all things necessary, as well for
their convenience as their defence; and that I had such and such
particular persons with me, as well to increase and recruit their
number, as by the particular necessary employments which they
were bred to, being artificers, to assist them in those things in
which at present they were in want.</p>
<p>They were all together when I talked thus to them; and before
I delivered to them the stores I had brought, I asked them, one
by one, if they had entirely forgot and buried the first
animosities that had been among them, and would shake hands with
one another, and engage in a strict friendship and union of
interest, that so there might be no more misunderstandings and
jealousies.</p>
<p>Will Atkins, with abundance of frankness and good humour, said
they had met with affliction enough to make them all sober, and
enemies enough to make them all friends; that, for his part, he
would live and die with them, and was so far from designing
anything against the Spaniards, that he owned they had done
nothing to him but what his own mad humour made necessary, and
what he would have done, and perhaps worse, in their case; and
that he would ask them pardon, if I desired it, for the foolish
and brutish things he had done to them, and was very willing and
desirous of living in terms of entire friendship and union with
them, and would do anything that lay in his power to convince
them of it; and as for going to England, he cared not if he did
not go thither these twenty years.</p>
<p>The Spaniards said they had, indeed, at first disarmed and
excluded Will Atkins and his two countrymen for their ill
conduct, as they had let me know, and they appealed to me for the
necessity they were under to do so; but that Will Atkins had
behaved himself so bravely in the great fight they had with the
savages, and on several occasions since, and had showed himself
so faithful to, and concerned for, the general interest of them
all, that they had forgotten all that was past, and thought he
merited as much to be trusted with arms and supplied with
necessaries as any of them; that they had testified their
satisfaction in him by committing the command to him next to the
governor himself; and as they had entire confidence in him and
all his countrymen, so they acknowledged they had merited that
confidence by all the methods that honest men could merit to be
valued and trusted; and they most heartily embraced the occasion
of giving me this assurance, that they would never have any
interest separate from one another.</p>
<p>Upon these frank and open declarations of friendship, we
appointed the next day to dine all together; and, indeed, we made
a splendid feast.&nbsp; I caused the ship&rsquo;s cook and his
mate to come on shore and dress our dinner, and the old
cook&rsquo;s mate we had on shore assisted.&nbsp; We brought on
shore six pieces of good beef and four pieces of pork, out of the
ship&rsquo;s provisions, with our punch-bowl and materials to
fill it; and in particular I gave them ten bottles of French
claret, and ten bottles of English beer; things that neither the
Spaniards nor the English had tasted for many years, and which it
may be supposed they were very glad of.&nbsp; The Spaniards added
to our feast five whole kids, which the cooks roasted; and three
of them were sent, covered up close, on board the ship to the
seamen, that they might feast on fresh meat from on shore, as we
did with their salt meat from on board.</p>
<p>After this feast, at which we were very innocently merry, I
brought my cargo of goods; wherein, that there might be no
dispute about dividing, I showed them that there was a
sufficiency for them all, desiring that they might all take an
equal quantity, when made up, of the goods that were for
wearing.&nbsp; As, first, I distributed linen sufficient to make
every one of them four shirts, and, at the Spaniard&rsquo;s
request, afterwards made them up six; these were exceeding
comfortable to them, having been what they had long since forgot
the use of, or what it was to wear them.&nbsp; I allotted the
thin English stuffs, which I mentioned before, to make every one
a light coat, like a frock, which I judged fittest for the heat
of the season, cool and loose; and ordered that whenever they
decayed, they should make more, as they thought fit; the like for
pumps, shoes, stockings, hats, &amp;c.&nbsp; I cannot express
what pleasure sat upon the countenances of all these poor men
when they saw the care I had taken of them, and how well I had
furnished them.&nbsp; They told me I was a father to them; and
that having such a correspondent as I was in so remote a part of
the world, it would make them forget that they were left in a
desolate place; and they all voluntarily engaged to me not to
leave the place without my consent.</p>
<p>Then I presented to them the people I had brought with me,
particularly the tailor, the smith, and the two carpenters, all
of them most necessary people; but, above all, my general
artificer, than whom they could not name anything that was more
useful to them; and the tailor, to show his concern for them,
went to work immediately, and, with my leave, made them every one
a shirt, the first thing he did; and, what was still more, he
taught the women not only how to sew and stitch, and use the
needle, but made them assist to make the shirts for their
husbands, and for all the rest.&nbsp; As to the carpenters, I
scarce need mention how useful they were; for they took to pieces
all my clumsy, unhandy things, and made clever convenient tables,
stools, bedsteads, cupboards, lockers, shelves, and everything
they wanted of that kind.&nbsp; But to let them see how nature
made artificers at first, I carried the carpenters to see Will
Atkins&rsquo; basket-house, as I called it; and they both owned
they never saw an instance of such natural ingenuity before, nor
anything so regular and so handily built, at least of its kind;
and one of them, when he saw it, after musing a good while,
turning about to me, &ldquo;I am sure,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;that man has no need of us; you need do nothing but give
him tools.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Then I brought them out all my store of tools, and gave every
man a digging-spade, a shovel, and a rake, for we had no barrows
or ploughs; and to every separate place a pickaxe, a crow, a
broad axe, and a saw; always appointing, that as often as any
were broken or worn out, they should be supplied without grudging
out of the general stores that I left behind.&nbsp; Nails,
staples, hinges, hammers, chisels, knives, scissors, and all
sorts of ironwork, they had without reserve, as they required;
for no man would take more than he wanted, and he must be a fool
that would waste or spoil them on any account whatever; and for
the use of the smith I left two tons of unwrought iron for a
supply.</p>
<p>My magazine of powder and arms which I brought them was such,
even to profusion, that they could not but rejoice at them; for
now they could march as I used to do, with a musket upon each
shoulder, if there was occasion; and were able to fight a
thousand savages, if they had but some little advantages of
situation, which also they could not miss, if they had
occasion.</p>
<p>I carried on shore with me the young man whose mother was
starved to death, and the maid also; she was a sober,
well-educated, religious young woman, and behaved so
inoffensively that every one gave her a good word; she had,
indeed, an unhappy life with us, there being no woman in the ship
but herself, but she bore it with patience.&nbsp; After a while,
seeing things so well ordered, and in so fine a way of thriving
upon my island, and considering that they had neither business
nor acquaintance in the East Indies, or reason for taking so long
a voyage, both of them came to me and desired I would give them
leave to remain on the island, and be entered among my family, as
they called it.&nbsp; I agreed to this readily; and they had a
little plot of ground allotted to them, where they had three
tents or houses set up, surrounded with a basket-work, palisadoed
like Atkins&rsquo;s, adjoining to his plantation.&nbsp; Their
tents were contrived so that they had each of them a room apart
to lodge in, and a middle tent like a great storehouse to lay
their goods in, and to eat and to drink in.&nbsp; And now the
other two Englishmen removed their habitation to the same place;
and so the island was divided into three colonies, and no
more&mdash;viz. the Spaniards, with old Friday and the first
servants, at my habitation under the hill, which was, in a word,
the capital city, and where they had so enlarged and extended
their works, as well under as on the outside of the hill, that
they lived, though perfectly concealed, yet full at large.&nbsp;
Never was there such a little city in a wood, and so hid, in any
part of the world; for I verify believe that a thousand men might
have ranged the island a month, and, if they had not known there
was such a thing, and looked on purpose for it, they would not
have found it.&nbsp; Indeed the trees stood so thick and so
close, and grew so fast woven one into another, that nothing but
cutting them down first could discover the place, except the only
two narrow entrances where they went in and out could be found,
which was not very easy; one of them was close down at the
water&rsquo;s edge, on the side of the creek, and it was
afterwards above two hundred yards to the place; and the other
was up a ladder at twice, as I have already described it; and
they had also a large wood, thickly planted, on the top of the
hill, containing above an acre, which grew apace, and concealed
the place from all discovery there, with only one narrow place
between two trees, not easily to be discovered, to enter on that
side.</p>
<p>The other colony was that of Will Atkins, where there were
four families of Englishmen, I mean those I had left there, with
their wives and children; three savages that were slaves, the
widow and children of the Englishman that was killed, the young
man and the maid, and, by the way, we made a wife of her before
we went away.&nbsp; There were besides the two carpenters and the
tailor, whom I brought with me for them: also the smith, who was
a very necessary man to them, especially as a gunsmith, to take
care of their arms; and my other man, whom I called
Jack-of-all-trades, who was in himself as good almost as twenty
men; for he was not only a very ingenious fellow, but a very
merry fellow, and before I went away we married him to the honest
maid that came with the youth in the ship I mentioned before.</p>
<p>And now I speak of marrying, it brings me naturally to say
something of the French ecclesiastic that I had brought with me
out of the ship&rsquo;s crew whom I took up at sea.&nbsp; It is
true this man was a Roman, and perhaps it may give offence to
some hereafter if I leave anything extraordinary upon record of a
man whom, before I begin, I must (to set him out in just colours)
represent in terms very much to his disadvantage, in the account
of Protestants; as, first, that he was a Papist; secondly, a
Popish priest; and thirdly, a French Popish priest.&nbsp; But
justice demands of me to give him a due character; and I must
say, he was a grave, sober, pious, and most religious person;
exact in his life, extensive in his charity, and exemplary in
almost everything he did.&nbsp; What then can any one say against
being very sensible of the value of such a man, notwithstanding
his profession? though it may be my opinion perhaps, as well as
the opinion of others who shall read this, that he was
mistaken.</p>
<p>The first hour that I began to converse with him after he had
agreed to go with me to the East Indies, I found reason to
delight exceedingly in his conversation; and he first began with
me about religion in the most obliging manner imaginable.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you have not only under
God&rdquo; (and at that he crossed his breast) &ldquo;saved my
life, but you have admitted me to go this voyage in your ship,
and by your obliging civility have taken me into your family,
giving me an opportunity of free conversation.&nbsp; Now, sir,
you see by my habit what my profession is, and I guess by your
nation what yours is; I may think it is my duty, and doubtless it
is so, to use my utmost endeavours, on all occasions, to bring
all the souls I can to the knowledge of the truth, and to embrace
the Catholic doctrine; but as I am here under your permission,
and in your family, I am bound, in justice to your kindness as
well as in decency and good manners, to be under your government;
and therefore I shall not, without your leave, enter into any
debate on the points of religion in which we may not agree,
further than you shall give me leave.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I told him his carriage was so modest that I could not but
acknowledge it; that it was true we were such people as they call
heretics, but that he was not the first Catholic I had conversed
with without falling into inconveniences, or carrying the
questions to any height in debate; that he should not find
himself the worse used for being of a different opinion from us,
and if we did not converse without any dislike on either side, it
should be his fault, not ours.</p>
<p>He replied that he thought all our conversation might be
easily separated from disputes; that it was not his business to
cap principles with every man he conversed with; and that he
rather desired me to converse with him as a gentleman than as a
religionist; and that, if I would give him leave at any time to
discourse upon religious subjects, he would readily comply with
it, and that he did not doubt but I would allow him also to
defend his own opinions as well as he could; but that without my
leave he would not break in upon me with any such thing.&nbsp; He
told me further, that he would not cease to do all that became
him, in his office as a priest, as well as a private Christian,
to procure the good of the ship, and the safety of all that was
in her; and though, perhaps, we would not join with him, and he
could not pray with us, he hoped he might pray for us, which he
would do upon all occasions.&nbsp; In this manner we conversed;
and as he was of the most obliging, gentlemanlike behaviour, so
he was, if I may be allowed to say so, a man of good sense, and,
as I believe, of great learning.</p>
<p>He gave me a most diverting account of his life, and of the
many extraordinary events of it; of many adventures which had
befallen him in the few years that he had been abroad in the
world; and particularly, it was very remarkable, that in the
voyage he was now engaged in he had had the misfortune to be five
times shipped and unshipped, and never to go to the place whither
any of the ships he was in were at first designed.&nbsp; That his
first intent was to have gone to Martinico, and that he went on
board a ship bound thither at St. Malo; but being forced into
Lisbon by bad weather, the ship received some damage by running
aground in the mouth of the river Tagus, and was obliged to
unload her cargo there; but finding a Portuguese ship there bound
for the Madeiras, and ready to sail, and supposing he should meet
with a ship there bound to Martinico, he went on board, in order
to sail to the Madeiras; but the master of the Portuguese ship
being but an indifferent mariner, had been out of his reckoning,
and they drove to Fayal; where, however, he happened to find a
very good market for his cargo, which was corn, and therefore
resolved not to go to the Madeiras, but to load salt at the Isle
of May, and to go away to Newfoundland.&nbsp; He had no remedy in
this exigence but to go with the ship, and had a pretty good
voyage as far as the Banks (so they call the place where they
catch the fish), where, meeting with a French ship bound from
France to Quebec, and from thence to Martinico, to carry
provisions, he thought he should have an opportunity to complete
his first design, but when he came to Quebec, the master of the
ship died, and the vessel proceeded no further; so the next
voyage he shipped himself for France, in the ship that was burned
when we took them up at sea, and then shipped with us for the
East Indies, as I have already said.&nbsp; Thus he had been
disappointed in five voyages; all, as I may call it, in one
voyage, besides what I shall have occasion to mention further of
him.</p>
<p>But I shall not make digression into other men&rsquo;s stories
which have no relation to my own; so I return to what concerns
our affair in the island.&nbsp; He came to me one morning (for he
lodged among us all the while we were upon the island), and it
happened to be just when I was going to visit the
Englishmen&rsquo;s colony, at the furthest part of the island; I
say, he came to me, and told me, with a very grave countenance,
that he had for two or three days desired an opportunity of some
discourse with me, which he hoped would not be displeasing to me,
because he thought it might in some measure correspond with my
general design, which was the prosperity of my new colony, and
perhaps might put it, at least more than he yet thought it was,
in the way of God&rsquo;s blessing.</p>
<p>I looked a little surprised at the last of his discourse, and
turning a little short, &ldquo;How, sir,&rdquo; said I,
&ldquo;can it be said that we are not in the way of God&rsquo;s
blessing, after such visible assistances and deliverances as we
have seen here, and of which I have given you a large
account?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;If you had pleased, sir,&rdquo; said
he, with a world of modesty, and yet great readiness, &ldquo;to
have heard me, you would have found no room to have been
displeased, much less to think so hard of me, that I should
suggest that you have not had wonderful assistances and
deliverances; and I hope, on your behalf, that you are in the way
of God&rsquo;s blessing, and your design is exceeding good, and
will prosper.&nbsp; But, sir, though it were more so than is even
possible to you, yet there may be some among you that are not
equally right in their actions: and you know that in the story of
the children of Israel, one Achan in the camp removed God&rsquo;s
blessing from them, and turned His hand so against them, that
six-and-thirty of them, though not concerned in the crime, were
the objects of divine vengeance, and bore the weight of that
punishment.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was sensibly touched with this discourse, and told him his
inference was so just, and the whole design seemed so sincere,
and was really so religious in its own nature, that I was very
sorry I had interrupted him, and begged him to go on; and, in the
meantime, because it seemed that what we had both to say might
take up some time, I told him I was going to the
Englishmen&rsquo;s plantations, and asked him to go with me, and
we might discourse of it by the way.&nbsp; He told me he would
the more willingly wait on me thither, because there partly the
thing was acted which he desired to speak to me about; so we
walked on, and I pressed him to be free and plain with me in what
he had to say.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why, then, sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;be pleased to
give me leave to lay down a few propositions, as the foundation
of what I have to say, that we may not differ in the general
principles, though we may be of some differing opinions in the
practice of particulars.&nbsp; First, sir, though we differ in
some of the doctrinal articles of religion (and it is very
unhappy it is so, especially in the case before us, as I shall
show afterwards), yet there are some general principles in which
we both agree&mdash;that there is a God; and that this God having
given us some stated general rules for our service and obedience,
we ought not willingly and knowingly to offend Him, either by
neglecting to do what He has commanded, or by doing what He has
expressly forbidden.&nbsp; And let our different religions be
what they will, this general principle is readily owned by us
all, that the blessing of God does not ordinarily follow
presumptuous sinning against His command; and every good
Christian will be affectionately concerned to prevent any that
are under his care living in a total neglect of God and His
commands.&nbsp; It is not your men being Protestants, whatever my
opinion may be of such, that discharges me from being concerned
for their souls, and from endeavouring, if it lies before me,
that they should live in as little distance from enmity with
their Maker as possible, especially if you give me leave to
meddle so far in your circuit.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I could not yet imagine what he aimed at, and told him I
granted all he had said, and thanked him that he would so far
concern himself for us: and begged he would explain the
particulars of what he had observed, that like Joshua, to take
his own parable, I might put away the accursed thing from us.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why, then, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I will take the
liberty you give me; and there are three things, which, if I am
right, must stand in the way of God&rsquo;s blessing upon your
endeavours here, and which I should rejoice, for your sake and
their own, to see removed.&nbsp; And, sir, I promise myself that
you will fully agree with me in them all, as soon as I name them;
especially because I shall convince you, that every one of them
may, with great ease, and very much to your satisfaction, be
remedied.&nbsp; First, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you have here
four Englishmen, who have fetched women from among the savages,
and have taken them as their wives, and have had many children by
them all, and yet are not married to them after any stated legal
manner, as the laws of God and man require.&nbsp; To this, sir, I
know, you will object that there was no clergyman or priest of
any kind to perform the ceremony; nor any pen and ink, or paper,
to write down a contract of marriage, and have it signed between
them.&nbsp; And I know also, sir, what the Spaniard governor has
told you, I mean of the agreement that he obliged them to make
when they took those women, viz. that they should choose them out
by consent, and keep separately to them; which, by the way, is
nothing of a marriage, no agreement with the women as wives, but
only an agreement among themselves, to keep them from
quarrelling.&nbsp; But, sir, the essence of the sacrament of
matrimony&rdquo; (so he called it, being a Roman) &ldquo;consists
not only in the mutual consent of the parties to take one another
as man and wife, but in the formal and legal obligation that
there is in the contract to compel the man and woman, at all
times, to own and acknowledge each other; obliging the man to
abstain from all other women, to engage in no other contract
while these subsist; and, on all occasions, as ability allows, to
provide honestly for them and their children; and to oblige the
women to the same or like conditions, on their side.&nbsp; Now,
sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;these men may, when they please, or
when occasion presents, abandon these women, disown their
children, leave them to perish, and take other women, and marry
them while these are living;&rdquo; and here he added, with some
warmth, &ldquo;How, sir, is God honoured in this unlawful
liberty?&nbsp; And how shall a blessing succeed your endeavours
in this place, however good in themselves, and however sincere in
your design, while these men, who at present are your subjects,
under your absolute government and dominion, are allowed by you
to live in open adultery?&rdquo;</p>
<p>I confess I was struck with the thing itself, but much more
with the convincing arguments he supported it with; but I thought
to have got off my young priest by telling him that all that part
was done when I was not there: and that they had lived so many
years with them now, that if it was adultery, it was past remedy;
nothing could be done in it now.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;asking your pardon for such
freedom, you are right in this, that, it being done in your
absence, you could not be charged with that part of the crime;
but, I beseech you, flatter not yourself that you are not,
therefore, under an obligation to do your utmost now to put an
end to it.&nbsp; You should legally and effectually marry them;
and as, sir, my way of marrying may not be easy to reconcile them
to, though it will be effectual, even by your own laws, so your
way may be as well before God, and as valid among men.&nbsp; I
mean by a written contract signed by both man and woman, and by
all the witnesses present, which all the laws of Europe would
decree to be valid.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was amazed to see so much true piety, and so much sincerity
of zeal, besides the unusual impartiality in his discourse as to
his own party or church, and such true warmth for preserving
people that he had no knowledge of or relation to from
transgressing the laws of God.&nbsp; But recollecting what he had
said of marrying them by a written contract, which I knew he
would stand to, I returned it back upon him, and told him I
granted all that he had said to be just, and on his part very
kind; that I would discourse with the men upon the point now,
when I came to them; and I knew no reason why they should scruple
to let him marry them all, which I knew well enough would be
granted to be as authentic and valid in England as if they were
married by one of our own clergymen.</p>
<p>I then pressed him to tell me what was the second complaint
which he had to make, acknowledging that I was very much his
debtor for the first, and thanking him heartily for it.&nbsp; He
told me he would use the same freedom and plainness in the
second, and hoped I would take it as well; and this was, that
notwithstanding these English subjects of mine, as he called
them, had lived with these women almost seven years, had taught
them to speak English, and even to read it, and that they were,
as he perceived, women of tolerable understanding, and capable of
instruction, yet they had not, to this hour, taught them anything
of the Christian religion&mdash;no, not so much as to know there
was a God, or a worship, or in what manner God was to be served,
or that their own idolatry, and worshipping they knew not whom,
was false and absurd.&nbsp; This he said was an unaccountable
neglect, and what God would certainly call them to account for,
and perhaps at last take the work out of their hands.&nbsp; He
spoke this very affectionately and warmly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am persuaded,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;had those men
lived in the savage country whence their wives came, the savages
would have taken more pains to have brought them to be idolaters,
and to worship the devil, than any of these men, so far as I can
see, have taken with them to teach the knowledge of the true
God.&nbsp; Now, sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;though I do not
acknowledge your religion, or you mine, yet we would be glad to
see the devil&rsquo;s servants and the subjects of his kingdom
taught to know religion; and that they might, at least, hear of
God and a Redeemer, and the resurrection, and of a future
state&mdash;things which we all believe; that they might, at
least, be so much nearer coming into the bosom of the true Church
than they are now in the public profession of idolatry and
devil-worship.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I could hold no longer: I took him in my arms and embraced him
eagerly.&nbsp; &ldquo;How far,&rdquo; said I to him, &ldquo;have
I been from understanding the most essential part of a Christian,
viz. to love the interest of the Christian Church, and the good
of other men&rsquo;s souls!&nbsp; I scarce have known what
belongs to the being a Christian.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, sir! do
not say so,&rdquo; replied he; &ldquo;this thing is not your
fault.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said I; &ldquo;but why did
I never lay it to heart as well as you?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;It is
not too late yet,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;be not too forward to
condemn yourself.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;But what can be done
now?&rdquo; said I: &ldquo;you see I am going
away.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Will you give me leave to talk with
these poor men about it?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, with all my
heart,&rdquo; said I: &ldquo;and oblige them to give heed to what
you say too.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;As to that,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;we must leave them to the mercy of Christ; but it is your
business to assist them, encourage them, and instruct them; and
if you give me leave, and God His blessing, I do not doubt but
the poor ignorant souls shall be brought home to the great circle
of Christianity, if not into the particular faith we all embrace,
and that even while you stay here.&rdquo;&nbsp; Upon this I said,
&ldquo;I shall not only give you leave, but give you a thousand
thanks for it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I now pressed him for the third article in which we were to
blame.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, really,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;it is of
the same nature.&nbsp; It is about your poor savages, who are, as
I may say, your conquered subjects.&nbsp; It is a maxim, sir,
that is or ought to be received among all Christians, of what
church or pretended church soever, that the Christian knowledge
ought to be propagated by all possible means and on all possible
occasions.&nbsp; It is on this principle that our Church sends
missionaries into Persia, India, and China; and that our clergy,
even of the superior sort, willingly engage in the most hazardous
voyages, and the most dangerous residence amongst murderers and
barbarians, to teach them the knowledge of the true God, and to
bring them over to embrace the Christian faith.&nbsp; Now, sir,
you have such an opportunity here to have six or seven and thirty
poor savages brought over from a state of idolatry to the
knowledge of God, their Maker and Redeemer, that I wonder how you
can pass such an occasion of doing good, which is really worth
the expense of a man&rsquo;s whole life.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was now struck dumb indeed, and had not one word to
say.&nbsp; I had here the spirit of true Christian zeal for God
and religion before me.&nbsp; As for me, I had not so much as
entertained a thought of this in my heart before, and I believe I
should not have thought of it; for I looked upon these savages as
slaves, and people whom, had we not had any work for them to do,
we would have used as such, or would have been glad to have
transported them to any part of the world; for our business was
to get rid of them, and we would all have been satisfied if they
had been sent to any country, so they had never seen their
own.&nbsp; I was confounded at his discourse, and knew not what
answer to make him.</p>
<p>He looked earnestly at me, seeing my confusion.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I shall be very sorry if what
I have said gives you any offence.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,
no,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;I am offended with nobody but myself;
but I am perfectly confounded, not only to think that I should
never take any notice of this before, but with reflecting what
notice I am able to take of it now.&nbsp; You know, sir,&rdquo;
said I, &ldquo;what circumstances I am in; I am bound to the East
Indies in a ship freighted by merchants, and to whom it would be
an insufferable piece of injustice to detain their ship here, the
men lying all this while at victuals and wages on the
owners&rsquo; account.&nbsp; It is true, I agreed to be allowed
twelve days here, and if I stay more, I must pay three pounds
sterling <i>per diem</i> demurrage; nor can I stay upon demurrage
above eight days more, and I have been here thirteen already; so
that I am perfectly unable to engage in this work unless I would
suffer myself to be left behind here again; in which case, if
this single ship should miscarry in any part of her voyage, I
should be just in the same condition that I was left in here at
first, and from which I have been so wonderfully
delivered.&rdquo;&nbsp; He owned the case was very hard upon me
as to my voyage; but laid it home upon my conscience whether the
blessing of saving thirty-seven souls was not worth venturing all
I had in the world for.&nbsp; I was not so sensible of that as he
was.&nbsp; I replied to him thus: &ldquo;Why, sir, it is a
valuable thing, indeed, to be an instrument in God&rsquo;s hand
to convert thirty-seven heathens to the knowledge of Christ: but
as you are an ecclesiastic, and are given over to the work, so it
seems so naturally to fall in the way of your profession; how is
it, then, that you do not rather offer yourself to undertake it
than to press me to do it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Upon this he faced about just before me, as he walked along,
and putting me to a full stop, made me a very low bow.&nbsp;
&ldquo;I most heartily thank God and you, sir,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;for giving me so evident a call to so blessed a work; and
if you think yourself discharged from it, and desire me to
undertake it, I will most readily do it, and think it a happy
reward for all the hazards and difficulties of such a broken,
disappointed voyage as I have met with, that I am dropped at last
into so glorious a work.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I discovered a kind of rapture in his face while he spoke this
to me; his eyes sparkled like fire; his face glowed, and his
colour came and went; in a word, he was fired with the joy of
being embarked in such a work.&nbsp; I paused a considerable
while before I could tell what to say to him; for I was really
surprised to find a man of such sincerity, and who seemed
possessed of a zeal beyond the ordinary rate of men.&nbsp; But
after I had considered it a while, I asked him seriously if he
was in earnest, and that he would venture, on the single
consideration of an attempt to convert those poor people, to be
locked up in an unplanted island for perhaps his life, and at
last might not know whether he should be able to do them good or
not?&nbsp; He turned short upon me, and asked me what I called a
venture?&nbsp; &ldquo;Pray, sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;what do
you think I consented to go in your ship to the East Indies
for?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;ay,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;that I know
not, unless it was to preach to the
Indians.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Doubtless it was,&rdquo; said he;
&ldquo;and do you think, if I can convert these thirty-seven men
to the faith of Jesus Christ, it is not worth my time, though I
should never be fetched off the island again?&mdash;nay, is it
not infinitely of more worth to save so many souls than my life
is, or the life of twenty more of the same profession?&nbsp; Yes,
sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I would give God thanks all my days
if I could be made the happy instrument of saving the souls of
those poor men, though I were never to get my foot off this
island or see my native country any more.&nbsp; But since you
will honour me with putting me into this work, for which I will
pray for you all the days of my life, I have one humble petition
to you besides.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said
I.&mdash;&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;it is, that you will
leave your man Friday with me, to be my interpreter to them, and
to assist me; for without some help I cannot speak to them, or
they to me.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was sensibly touched at his requesting Friday, because I
could not think of parting with him, and that for many reasons:
he had been the companion of my travels; he was not only faithful
to me, but sincerely affectionate to the last degree; and I had
resolved to do something considerable for him if he out-lived me,
as it was probable he would.&nbsp; Then I knew that, as I had
bred Friday up to be a Protestant, it would quite confound him to
bring him to embrace another religion; and he would never, while
his eyes were open, believe that his old master was a heretic,
and would be damned; and this might in the end ruin the poor
fellow&rsquo;s principles, and so turn him back again to his
first idolatry.&nbsp; However, a sudden thought relieved me in
this strait, and it was this: I told him I could not say that I
was willing to part with Friday on any account whatever, though a
work that to him was of more value than his life ought to be of
much more value than the keeping or parting with a servant.&nbsp;
On the other hand, I was persuaded that Friday would by no means
agree to part with me; and I could not force him to it without
his consent, without manifest injustice; because I had promised I
would never send him away, and he had promised and engaged that
he would never leave me, unless I sent him away.</p>
<p>He seemed very much concerned at it, for he had no rational
access to these poor people, seeing he did not understand one
word of their language, nor they one of his.&nbsp; To remove this
difficulty, I told him Friday&rsquo;s father had learned Spanish,
which I found he also understood, and he should serve him as an
interpreter.&nbsp; So he was much better satisfied, and nothing
could persuade him but he would stay and endeavour to convert
them; but Providence gave another very happy turn to all
this.</p>
<p>I come back now to the first part of his objections.&nbsp;
When we came to the Englishmen, I sent for them all together, and
after some account given them of what I had done for them, viz.
what necessary things I had provided for them, and how they were
distributed, which they were very sensible of, and very thankful
for, I began to talk to them of the scandalous life they led, and
gave them a full account of the notice the clergyman had taken of
it; and arguing how unchristian and irreligious a life it was, I
first asked them if they were married men or bachelors?&nbsp;
They soon explained their condition to me, and showed that two of
them were widowers, and the other three were single men, or
bachelors.&nbsp; I asked them with what conscience they could
take these women, and call them their wives, and have so many
children by them, and not be lawfully married to them?&nbsp; They
all gave me the answer I expected, viz. that there was nobody to
marry them; that they agreed before the governor to keep them as
their wives, and to maintain them and own them as their wives;
and they thought, as things stood with them, they were as legally
married as if they had been married by a parson and with all the
formalities in the world.</p>
<p>I told them that no doubt they were married in the sight of
God, and were bound in conscience to keep them as their wives;
but that the laws of men being otherwise, they might desert the
poor women and children hereafter; and that their wives, being
poor desolate women, friendless and moneyless, would have no way
to help themselves.&nbsp; I therefore told them that unless I was
assured of their honest intent, I could do nothing for them, but
would take care that what I did should be for the women and
children without them; and that, unless they would give me some
assurances that they would marry the women, I could not think it
was convenient they should continue together as man and wife; for
that it was both scandalous to men and offensive to God, who they
could not think would bless them if they went on thus.</p>
<p>All this went on as I expected; and they told me, especially
Will Atkins, who now seemed to speak for the rest, that they
loved their wives as well as if they had been born in their own
native country, and would not leave them on any account whatever;
and they did verily believe that their wives were as virtuous and
as modest, and did, to the utmost of their skill, as much for
them and for their children, as any woman could possibly do: and
they would not part with them on any account.&nbsp; Will Atkins,
for his own particular, added that if any man would take him
away, and offer to carry him home to England, and make him
captain of the best man-of-war in the navy, he would not go with
him if he might not carry his wife and children with him; and if
there was a clergyman in the ship, he would be married to her now
with all his heart.</p>
<p>This was just as I would have it.&nbsp; The priest was not
with me at that moment, but he was not far off; so to try him
further, I told him I had a clergyman with me, and, if he was
sincere, I would have him married next morning, and bade him
consider of it, and talk with the rest.&nbsp; He said, as for
himself, he need not consider of it at all, for he was very ready
to do it, and was glad I had a minister with me, and he believed
they would be all willing also.&nbsp; I then told him that my
friend, the minister, was a Frenchman, and could not speak
English, but I would act the clerk between them.&nbsp; He never
so much as asked me whether he was a Papist or Protestant, which
was, indeed, what I was afraid of.&nbsp; We then parted, and I
went back to my clergyman, and Will Atkins went in to talk with
his companions.&nbsp; I desired the French gentleman not to say
anything to them till the business was thoroughly ripe; and I
told him what answer the men had given me.</p>
<p>Before I went from their quarter they all came to me and told
me they had been considering what I had said; that they were glad
to hear I had a clergyman in my company, and they were very
willing to give me the satisfaction I desired, and to be formally
married as soon as I pleased; for they were far from desiring to
part with their wives, and that they meant nothing but what was
very honest when they chose them.&nbsp; So I appointed them to
meet me the next morning; and, in the meantime, they should let
their wives know the meaning of the marriage law; and that it was
not only to prevent any scandal, but also to oblige them that
they should not forsake them, whatever might happen.</p>
<p>The women were easily made sensible of the meaning of the
thing, and were very well satisfied with it, as, indeed, they had
reason to be: so they failed not to attend all together at my
apartment next morning, where I brought out my clergyman; and
though he had not on a minister&rsquo;s gown, after the manner of
England, or the habit of a priest, after the manner of France,
yet having a black vest something like a cassock, with a sash
round it, he did not look very unlike a minister; and as for his
language, I was his interpreter.&nbsp; But the seriousness of his
behaviour to them, and the scruples he made of marrying the
women, because they were not baptized and professed Christians,
gave them an exceeding reverence for his person; and there was no
need, after that, to inquire whether he was a clergyman or
not.&nbsp; Indeed, I was afraid his scruples would have been
carried so far as that he would not have married them at all;
nay, notwithstanding all I was able to say to him, he resisted
me, though modestly, yet very steadily, and at last refused
absolutely to marry them, unless he had first talked with the men
and the women too; and though at first I was a little backward to
it, yet at last I agreed to it with a good will, perceiving the
sincerity of his design.</p>
<p>When he came to them he let them know that I had acquainted
him with their circumstances, and with the present design; that
he was very willing to perform that part of his function, and
marry them, as I had desired; but that before he could do it, he
must take the liberty to talk with them.&nbsp; He told them that
in the sight of all indifferent men, and in the sense of the laws
of society, they had lived all this while in a state of sin; and
that it was true that nothing but the consenting to marry, or
effectually separating them from one another, could now put an
end to it; but there was a difficulty in it, too, with respect to
the laws of Christian matrimony, which he was not fully satisfied
about, that of marrying one that is a professed Christian to a
savage, an idolater, and a heathen&mdash;one that is not
baptized; and yet that he did not see that there was time left to
endeavour to persuade the women to be baptized, or to profess the
name of Christ, whom they had, he doubted, heard nothing of, and
without which they could not be baptized.&nbsp; He told them he
doubted they were but indifferent Christians themselves; that
they had but little knowledge of God or of His ways, and,
therefore, he could not expect that they had said much to their
wives on that head yet; but that unless they would promise him to
use their endeavours with their wives to persuade them to become
Christians, and would, as well as they could, instruct them in
the knowledge and belief of God that made them, and to worship
Jesus Christ that redeemed them, he could not marry them; for he
would have no hand in joining Christians with savages, nor was it
consistent with the principles of the Christian religion, and
was, indeed, expressly forbidden in God&rsquo;s law.</p>
<p>They heard all this very attentively, and I delivered it very
faithfully to them from his mouth, as near his own words as I
could; only sometimes adding something of my own, to convince
them how just it was, and that I was of his mind; and I always
very carefully distinguished between what I said from myself and
what were the clergyman&rsquo;s words.&nbsp; They told me it was
very true what the gentleman said, that they were very
indifferent Christians themselves, and that they had never talked
to their wives about religion.&nbsp; &ldquo;Lord, sir,&rdquo;
says Will Atkins, &ldquo;how should we teach them religion?&nbsp;
Why, we know nothing ourselves; and besides, sir,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;should we talk to them of God and Jesus Christ, and heaven
and hell, it would make them laugh at us, and ask us what we
believe ourselves.&nbsp; And if we should tell them that we
believe all the things we speak of to them, such as of good
people going to heaven, and wicked people to the devil, they
would ask us where we intend to go ourselves, that believe all
this, and are such wicked fellows as we indeed are?&nbsp; Why,
sir; &rsquo;tis enough to give them a surfeit of religion at
first hearing; folks must have some religion themselves before
they begin to teach other people.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Will
Atkins,&rdquo; said I to him, &ldquo;though I am afraid that what
you say has too much truth in it, yet can you not tell your wife
she is in the wrong; that there is a God and a religion better
than her own; that her gods are idols; that they can neither hear
nor speak; that there is a great Being that made all things, and
that can destroy all that He has made; that He rewards the good
and punishes the bad; and that we are to be judged by Him at last
for all we do here?&nbsp; You are not so ignorant but even nature
itself will teach you that all this is true; and I am satisfied
you know it all to be true, and believe it
yourself.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;That is true, sir,&rdquo; said
Atkins; &ldquo;but with what face can I say anything to my wife
of all this, when she will tell me immediately it cannot be
true?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Not true!&rdquo; said I; &ldquo;what do
you mean by that?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, sir,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;she will tell me it cannot be true that this God I shall
tell her of can be just, or can punish or reward, since I am not
punished and sent to the devil, that have been such a wicked
creature as she knows I have been, even to her, and to everybody
else; and that I should be suffered to live, that have been
always acting so contrary to what I must tell her is good, and to
what I ought to have done.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, truly,
Atkins,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;I am afraid thou speakest too much
truth;&rdquo; and with that I informed the clergyman of what
Atkins had said, for he was impatient to know.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the priest, &ldquo;tell him there is one
thing will make him the best minister in the world to his wife,
and that is repentance; for none teach repentance like true
penitents.&nbsp; He wants nothing but to repent, and then he will
be so much the better qualified to instruct his wife; he will
then be able to tell her that there is not only a God, and that
He is the just rewarder of good and evil, but that He is a
merciful Being, and with infinite goodness and long-suffering
forbears to punish those that offend; waiting to be gracious, and
willing not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should
return and live; and even reserves damnation to the general day
of retribution; that it is a clear evidence of God and of a
future state that righteous men receive not their reward, or
wicked men their punishment, till they come into another world;
and this will lead him to teach his wife the doctrine of the
resurrection and of the last judgment.&nbsp; Let him but repent
himself, he will be an excellent preacher of repentance to his
wife.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I repeated all this to Atkins, who looked very serious all the
while, and, as we could easily perceive, was more than ordinarily
affected with it; when being eager, and hardly suffering me to
make an end, &ldquo;I know all this, master,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;and a great deal more; but I have not the impudence to
talk thus to my wife, when God and my conscience know, and my
wife will be an undeniable evidence against me, that I have lived
as if I had never heard of a God or future state, or anything
about it; and to talk of my repenting, alas!&rdquo; (and with
that he fetched a deep sigh, and I could see that the tears stood
in his eyes) &ldquo;&rsquo;tis past all that with
me.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Past it, Atkins?&rdquo; said I:
&ldquo;what dost thou mean by that?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I know
well enough what I mean,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;I mean &rsquo;tis
too late, and that is too true.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I told the clergyman, word for word, what he said, and this
affectionate man could not refrain from tears; but, recovering
himself, said to me, &ldquo;Ask him but one question.&nbsp; Is he
easy that it is too late; or is he troubled, and wishes it were
not so?&rdquo;&nbsp; I put the question fairly to Atkins; and he
answered with a great deal of passion, &ldquo;How could any man
be easy in a condition that must certainly end in eternal
destruction? that he was far from being easy; but that, on the
contrary, he believed it would one time or other ruin
him.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo; said
I.&mdash;&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;he believed he should
one time or other cut his throat, to put an end to the terror of
it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The clergyman shook his head, with great concern in his face,
when I told him all this; but turning quick to me upon it, says,
&ldquo;If that be his case, we may assure him it is not too late;
Christ will give him repentance.&nbsp; But pray,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;explain this to him: that as no man is saved but by
Christ, and the merit of His passion procuring divine mercy for
him, how can it be too late for any man to receive mercy?&nbsp;
Does he think he is able to sin beyond the power or reach of
divine mercy?&nbsp; Pray tell him there may be a time when
provoked mercy will no longer strive, and when God may refuse to
hear, but that it is never too late for men to ask mercy; and we,
that are Christ&rsquo;s servants, are commanded to preach mercy
at all times, in the name of Jesus Christ, to all those that
sincerely repent: so that it is never too late to
repent.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I told Atkins all this, and he heard me with great
earnestness; but it seemed as if he turned off the discourse to
the rest, for he said to me he would go and have some talk with
his wife; so he went out a while, and we talked to the
rest.&nbsp; I perceived they were all stupidly ignorant as to
matters of religion, as much as I was when I went rambling away
from my father; yet there were none of them backward to hear what
had been said; and all of them seriously promised that they would
talk with their wives about it, and do their endeavours to
persuade them to turn Christians.</p>
<p>The clergyman smiled upon me when I reported what answer they
gave, but said nothing a good while; but at last, shaking his
head, &ldquo;We that are Christ&rsquo;s servants,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;can go no further than to exhort and instruct: and when
men comply, submit to the reproof, and promise what we ask,
&rsquo;tis all we can do; we are bound to accept their good
words; but believe me, sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;whatever you
may have known of the life of that man you call Will
Atkin&rsquo;s, I believe he is the only sincere convert among
them: I will not despair of the rest; but that man is apparently
struck with the sense of his past life, and I doubt not, when he
comes to talk of religion to his wife, he will talk himself
effectually into it: for attempting to teach others is sometimes
the best way of teaching ourselves.&nbsp; If that poor Atkins
begins but once to talk seriously of Jesus Christ to his wife, he
will assuredly talk himself into a thorough convert, make himself
a penitent, and who knows what may follow.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Upon this discourse, however, and their promising, as above,
to endeavour to persuade their wives to embrace Christianity, he
married the two other couple; but Will Atkins and his wife were
not yet come in.&nbsp; After this, my clergyman, waiting a while,
was curious to know where Atkins was gone, and turning to me,
said, &ldquo;I entreat you, sir, let us walk out of your
labyrinth here and look; I daresay we shall find this poor man
somewhere or other talking seriously to his wife, and teaching
her already something of religion.&rdquo;&nbsp; I began to be of
the same mind; so we went out together, and I carried him a way
which none knew but myself, and where the trees were so very
thick that it was not easy to see through the thicket of leaves,
and far harder to see in than to see out: when, coming to the
edge of the wood, I saw Atkins and his tawny wife sitting under
the shade of a bush, very eager in discourse: I stopped short
till my clergyman came up to me, and then having showed him where
they were, we stood and looked very steadily at them a good
while.&nbsp; We observed him very earnest with her, pointing up
to the sun, and to every quarter of the heavens, and then down to
the earth, then out to the sea, then to himself, then to her, to
the woods, to the trees.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; says the
clergyman, &ldquo;you see my words are made good, the man
preaches to her; mark him now, he is telling her that our God has
made him, her, and the heavens, the earth, the sea, the woods,
the trees, &amp;c.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I believe he is,&rdquo;
said I.&nbsp; Immediately we perceived Will Atkins start upon his
feet, fall down on his knees, and lift up both his hands.&nbsp;
We supposed he said something, but we could not hear him; it was
too far for that.&nbsp; He did not continue kneeling half a
minute, but comes and sits down again by his wife, and talks to
her again; we perceived then the woman very attentive, but
whether she said anything to him we could not tell.&nbsp; While
the poor fellow was upon his knees I could see the tears run
plentifully down my clergyman&rsquo;s cheeks, and I could hardly
forbear myself; but it was a great affliction to us both that we
were not near enough to hear anything that passed between
them.&nbsp; Well, however, we could come no nearer for fear of
disturbing them: so we resolved to see an end of this piece of
still conversation, and it spoke loud enough to us without the
help of voice.&nbsp; He sat down again, as I have said, close by
her, and talked again earnestly to her, and two or three times we
could see him embrace her most passionately; another time we saw
him take out his handkerchief and wipe her eyes, and then kiss
her again with a kind of transport very unusual; and after
several of these things, we saw him on a sudden jump up again,
and lend her his hand to help her up, when immediately leading
her by the hand a step or two, they both kneeled down together,
and continued so about two minutes.</p>
<p>My friend could bear it no longer, but cries out aloud,
&ldquo;St. Paul!&nbsp; St. Paul! behold he prayeth.&rdquo;&nbsp;
I was afraid Atkins would hear him, therefore I entreated him to
withhold himself a while, that we might see an end of the scene,
which to me, I must confess, was the most affecting that ever I
saw in my life.&nbsp; Well, he strove with himself for a while,
but was in such raptures to think that the poor heathen woman was
become a Christian, that he was not able to contain himself; he
wept several times, then throwing up his hands and crossing his
breast, said over several things ejaculatory, and by the way of
giving God thanks for so miraculous a testimony of the success of
our endeavours.&nbsp; Some he spoke softly, and I could not well
hear others; some things he said in Latin, some in French; then
two or three times the tears would interrupt him, that he could
not speak at all; but I begged that he would contain himself, and
let us more narrowly and fully observe what was before us, which
he did for a time, the scene not being near ended yet; for after
the poor man and his wife were risen again from their knees, we
observed he stood talking still eagerly to her, and we observed
her motion, that she was greatly affected with what he said, by
her frequently lifting up her hands, laying her hand to her
breast, and such other postures as express the greatest
seriousness and attention; this continued about half a quarter of
an hour, and then they walked away, so we could see no more of
them in that situation.</p>
<p>I took this interval to say to the clergyman, first, that I
was glad to see the particulars we had both been witnesses to;
that, though I was hard enough of belief in such cases, yet that
I began to think it was all very sincere here, both in the man
and his wife, however ignorant they might both be, and I hoped
such a beginning would yet have a more happy end.&nbsp;
&ldquo;But, my friend,&rdquo; added I, &ldquo;will you give me
leave to start one difficulty here?&nbsp; I cannot tell how to
object the least thing against that affectionate concern which
you show for the turning of the poor people from their paganism
to the Christian religion; but how does this comfort you, while
these people are, in your account, out of the pale of the
Catholic Church, without which you believe there is no salvation?
so that you esteem these but heretics, as effectually lost as the
pagans themselves.&rdquo;</p>
<p>To this he answered, with abundance of candour, thus:
&ldquo;Sir, I am a Catholic of the Roman Church, and a priest of
the order of St. Benedict, and I embrace all the principles of
the Roman faith; but yet, if you will believe me, and that I do
not speak in compliment to you, or in respect to my circumstances
and your civilities; I say nevertheless, I do not look upon you,
who call yourselves reformed, without some charity.&nbsp; I dare
not say (though I know it is our opinion in general) that you
cannot be saved; I will by no means limit the mercy of Christ so
far as think that He cannot receive you into the bosom of His
Church, in a manner to us unperceivable; and I hope you have the
same charity for us: I pray daily for you being all restored to
Christ&rsquo;s Church, by whatsoever method He, who is all-wise,
is pleased to direct.&nbsp; In the meantime, surely you will
allow it consists with me as a Roman to distinguish far between a
Protestant and a pagan; between one that calls on Jesus Christ,
though in a way which I do not think is according to the true
faith, and a savage or a barbarian, that knows no God, no Christ,
no Redeemer; and if you are not within the pale of the Catholic
Church, we hope you are nearer being restored to it than those
who know nothing of God or of His Church: and I rejoice,
therefore, when I see this poor man, who you say has been a
profligate, and almost a murderer kneel down and pray to Jesus
Christ, as we suppose he did, though not fully enlightened;
believing that God, from whom every such work proceeds, will
sensibly touch his heart, and bring him to the further knowledge
of that truth in His own time; and if God shall influence this
poor man to convert and instruct the ignorant savage, his wife, I
can never believe that he shall be cast away himself.&nbsp; And
have I not reason, then, to rejoice, the nearer any are brought
to the knowledge of Christ, though they may not be brought quite
home into the bosom of the Catholic Church just at the time when
I desire it, leaving it to the goodness of Christ to perfect His
work in His own time, and in his own way?&nbsp; Certainly, I
would rejoice if all the savages in America were brought, like
this poor woman, to pray to God, though they were all to be
Protestants at first, rather than they should continue pagans or
heathens; firmly believing, that He that had bestowed the first
light on them would farther illuminate them with a beam of His
heavenly grace, and bring them into the pale of His Church when
He should see good.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VII&mdash;CONVERSATION BETWIXT WILL ATKINS AND HIS
WIFE</h2>
<p>I was astonished at the sincerity and temper of this pious
Papist, as much as I was oppressed by the power of his reasoning;
and it presently occurred to my thoughts, that if such a temper
was universal, we might be all Catholic Christians, whatever
Church or particular profession we joined in; that a spirit of
charity would soon work us all up into right principles; and as
he thought that the like charity would make us all Catholics, so
I told him I believed, had all the members of his Church the like
moderation, they would soon all be Protestants.&nbsp; And there
we left that part; for we never disputed at all.&nbsp; However, I
talked to him another way, and taking him by the hand, &ldquo;My
friend,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;I wish all the clergy of the Romish
Church were blessed with such moderation, and had an equal share
of your charity.&nbsp; I am entirely of your opinion; but I must
tell you that if you should preach such doctrine in Spain or
Italy, they would put you into the
Inquisition.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;It may be so,&rdquo; said he;
&ldquo;I know not what they would do in Spain or Italy; but I
will not say they would be the better Christians for that
severity; for I am sure there is no heresy in abounding with
charity.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Well, as Will Atkins and his wife were gone, our business
there was over, so we went back our own way; and when we came
back, we found them waiting to be called in.&nbsp; Observing
this, I asked my clergyman if we should discover to him that we
had seen him under the bush or not; and it was his opinion we
should not, but that we should talk to him first, and hear what
he would say to us; so we called him in alone, nobody being in
the place but ourselves, and I began by asking him some
particulars about his parentage and education.&nbsp; He told me
frankly enough that his father was a clergyman who would have
taught him well, but that he, Will Atkins, despised all
instruction and correction; and by his brutish conduct cut the
thread of all his father&rsquo;s comforts and shortened his days,
for that he broke his heart by the most ungrateful, unnatural
return for the most affectionate treatment a father ever
gave.</p>
<p>In what he said there seemed so much sincerity of repentance,
that it painfully affected me.&nbsp; I could not but reflect that
I, too, had shortened the life of a good, tender father by my bad
conduct and obstinate self-will.&nbsp; I was, indeed, so
surprised with what he had told me, that I thought, instead of my
going about to teach and instruct him, the man was made a teacher
and instructor to me in a most unexpected manner.</p>
<p>I laid all this before the young clergyman, who was greatly
affected with it, and said to me, &ldquo;Did I not say, sir, that
when this man was converted he would preach to us all?&nbsp; I
tell you, sir, if this one man be made a true penitent, there
will be no need of me; he will make Christians of all in the
island.&rdquo;&mdash;But having a little composed myself, I
renewed my discourse with Will Atkins.&nbsp; &ldquo;But,
Will,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;how comes the sense of this matter to
touch you just now?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Sir, you have set me about a work that has
struck a dart though my very soul; I have been talking about God
and religion to my wife, in order, as you directed me, to make a
Christian of her, and she has preached such a sermon to me as I
shall never forget while I live.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;No, no, it is not your wife has preached to
you; but when you were moving religious arguments to her,
conscience has flung them back upon you.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Ay, sir, with such force as is not to be
resisted.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;Pray, Will, let us know what passed between
you and your wife; for I know something of it already.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Sir, it is impossible to give you a full
account of it; I am too full to hold it, and yet have no tongue
to express it; but let her have said what she will, though I
cannot give you an account of it, this I can tell you, that I
have resolved to amend and reform my life.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;But tell us some of it: how did you begin,
Will?&nbsp; For this has been an extraordinary case, that is
certain.&nbsp; She has preached a sermon, indeed, if she has
wrought this upon you.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Why, I first told her the nature of our laws
about marriage, and what the reasons were that men and women were
obliged to enter into such compacts as it was neither in the
power of one nor other to break; that otherwise, order and
justice could not be maintained, and men would run from their
wives, and abandon their children, mix confusedly with one
another, and neither families be kept entire, nor inheritances be
settled by legal descent.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;You talk like a civilian, Will.&nbsp; Could
you make her understand what you meant by inheritance and
families?&nbsp; They know no such things among the savages, but
marry anyhow, without regard to relation, consanguinity, or
family; brother and sister, nay, as I have been told, even the
father and the daughter, and the son and the mother.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;I believe, sir, you are misinformed, and my
wife assures me of the contrary, and that they abhor it; perhaps,
for any further relations, they may not be so exact as we are;
but she tells me never in the near relationship you speak of.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;Well, what did she say to what you told
her?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;She said she liked it very well, as it was
much better than in her country.</p>
<p><i>R.C.</i>&mdash;But did you tell her what marriage was?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Ay, ay, there began our dialogue.&nbsp; I
asked her if she would be married to me our way.&nbsp; She asked
me what way that was; I told her marriage was appointed by God;
and here we had a strange talk together, indeed, as ever man and
wife had, I believe.</p>
<p>N.B.&mdash;This dialogue between Will Atkins and his wife,
which I took down in writing just after he told it me, was as
follows:&mdash;</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Appointed by your God!&mdash;Why, have you
a God in your country?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, my dear, God is in every country.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;No your God in my country; my country have
the great old Benamuckee God.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Child, I am very unfit to show you who God
is; God is in heaven and made the heaven and the earth, the sea,
and all that in them is.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;No makee de earth; no you God makee all
earth; no makee my country.</p>
<p>[Will Atkins laughed a little at her expression of God not
making her country.]</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;No laugh; why laugh me?&nbsp; This no ting
to laugh.</p>
<p>[He was justly reproved by his wife, for she was more serious
than he at first.]</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;That&rsquo;s true, indeed; I will not laugh
any more, my dear.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Why you say you God makee all?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, child, our God made the whole world,
and you, and me, and all things; for He is the only true God, and
there is no God but Him.&nbsp; He lives for ever in heaven.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Why you no tell me long ago?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;That&rsquo;s true, indeed; but I have been a
wicked wretch, and have not only forgotten to acquaint thee with
anything before, but have lived without God in the world
myself.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;What, have you a great God in your country,
you no know Him?&nbsp; No say O to Him?&nbsp; No do good ting for
Him?&nbsp; That no possible.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;It is true; though, for all that, we live as
if there was no God in heaven, or that He had no power on
earth.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But why God let you do so?&nbsp; Why He no
makee you good live?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;It is all our own fault.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But you say me He is great, much great,
have much great power; can makee kill when He will: why He no
makee kill when you no serve Him? no say O to Him? no be good
mans?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;That is true, He might strike me dead; and I
ought to expect it, for I have been a wicked wretch, that is
true; but God is merciful, and does not deal with us as we
deserve.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But then do you not tell God thankee for
that too?</p>
<p><i>W. A.</i>&mdash;No, indeed, I have not thanked God for His
mercy, any more than I have feared God from His power.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Then you God no God; me no think, believe
He be such one, great much power, strong: no makee kill you,
though you make Him much angry.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;What, will my wicked life hinder you from
believing in God?&nbsp; What a dreadful creature am I! and what a
sad truth is it, that the horrid lives of Christians hinder the
conversion of heathens!</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;How me tink you have great much God up
there [she points up to heaven], and yet no do well, no do good
ting?&nbsp; Can He tell?&nbsp; Sure He no tell what you do?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, yes, He knows and sees all things; He
hears us speak, sees what we do, knows what we think though we do
not speak.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;What!&nbsp; He no hear you curse, swear,
speak de great damn?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, yes, He hears it all.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Where be then the much great power
strong?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;He is merciful, that is all we can say for
it; and this proves Him to be the true God; He is God, and not
man, and therefore we are not consumed.</p>
<p>[Here Will Atkins told us he was struck with horror to think
how he could tell his wife so clearly that God sees, and hears,
and knows the secret thoughts of the heart, and all that we do,
and yet that he had dared to do all the vile things he had
done.]</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Merciful!&nbsp; What you call dat?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;He is our Father and Maker, and He pities
and spares us.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;So then He never makee kill, never angry
when you do wicked; then He no good Himself, or no great
able.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, yes, my dear, He is infinitely good and
infinitely great, and able to punish too; and sometimes, to show
His justice and vengeance, He lets fly His anger to destroy
sinners and make examples; many are cut off in their sins.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But no makee kill you yet; then He tell
you, maybe, that He no makee you kill: so you makee the bargain
with Him, you do bad thing, He no be angry at you when He be
angry at other mans.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;No, indeed, my sins are all presumptions
upon His goodness; and He would be infinitely just if He
destroyed me, as He has done other men.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Well, and yet no kill, no makee you dead:
what you say to Him for that?&nbsp; You no tell Him thankee for
all that too?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;I am an unthankful, ungrateful dog, that is
true.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Why He no makee you much good better? you
say He makee you.</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;He made me as He made all the world: it is I
have deformed myself and abused His goodness, and made myself an
abominable wretch.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;I wish you makee God know me.&nbsp; I no
makee Him angry&mdash;I no do bad wicked thing.</p>
<p>[Here Will Atkins said his heart sunk within him to hear a
poor untaught creature desire to be taught to know God, and he
such a wicked wretch, that he could not say one word to her about
God, but what the reproach of his own carriage would make most
irrational to her to believe; nay, that already she had told him
that she could not believe in God, because he, that was so
wicked, was not destroyed.]</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;My dear, you mean, you wish I could teach
you to know God, not God to know you; for He knows you already,
and every thought in your heart.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Why, then, He know what I say to you now:
He know me wish to know Him.&nbsp; How shall me know who makee
me?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Poor creature, He must teach thee: I cannot
teach thee.&nbsp; I will pray to Him to teach thee to know Him,
and forgive me, that am unworthy to teach thee.</p>
<p>[The poor fellow was in such an agony at her desiring him to
make her know God, and her wishing to know Him, that he said he
fell down on his knees before her, and prayed to God to enlighten
her mind with the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, and to pardon
his sins, and accept of his being the unworthy instrument of
instructing her in the principles of religion: after which he sat
down by her again, and their dialogue went on.&nbsp; This was the
time when we saw him kneel down and hold up his hands.]</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;What you put down the knee for?&nbsp; What
you hold up the hand for?&nbsp; What you say?&nbsp; Who you speak
to?&nbsp; What is all that?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;My dear, I bow my knees in token of my
submission to Him that made me: I said O to Him, as you call it,
and as your old men do to their idol Benamuckee; that is, I
prayed to Him.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;What say you O to Him for?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;I prayed to Him to open your eyes and your
understanding, that you may know Him, and be accepted by Him.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Can He do that too?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, He can: He can do all things.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But now He hear what you say?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Yes, He has bid us pray to Him, and promised
to hear us.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Bid you pray?&nbsp; When He bid you?&nbsp;
How He bid you?&nbsp; What you hear Him speak?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;No, we do not hear Him speak; but He has
revealed Himself many ways to us.</p>
<p>[Here he was at a great loss to make her understand that God
has revealed Himself to us by His word, and what His word was;
but at last he told it to her thus.]</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;God has spoken to some good men in former
days, even from heaven, by plain words; and God has inspired good
men by His Spirit; and they have written all His laws down in a
book.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;Me no understand that; where is book?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Alas! my poor creature, I have not this
book; but I hope I shall one time or other get it for you, and
help you to read it.</p>
<p>[Here he embraced her with great affection, but with
inexpressible grief that he had not a Bible.]</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;But how you makee me know that God teachee
them to write that book?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;By the same rule that we know Him to be
God.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;What rule?&nbsp; What way you know Him?</p>
<p><i>W.A.</i>&mdash;Because He teaches and commands nothing but
what is good, righteous, and holy, and tends to make us perfectly
good, as well as perfectly happy; and because He forbids and
commands us to avoid all that is wicked, that is evil in itself,
or evil in its consequence.</p>
<p><i>Wife</i>.&mdash;That me would understand, that me fain see;
if He teachee all good thing, He makee all good thing, He give
all thing, He hear me when I say O to Him, as you do just now; He
makee me good if I wish to be good; He spare me, no makee kill
me, when I no be good: all this you say He do, yet He be great
God; me take, think, believe Him to be great God; me say O to Him
with you, my dear.</p>
<p>Here the poor man could forbear no longer, but raised her up,
made her kneel by him, and he prayed to God aloud to instruct her
in the knowledge of Himself, by His Spirit; and that by some good
providence, if possible, she might, some time or other, come to
have a Bible, that she might read the word of God, and be taught
by it to know Him.&nbsp; This was the time that we saw him lift
her up by the hand, and saw him kneel down by her, as above.</p>
<p>They had several other discourses, it seems, after this; and
particularly she made him promise that, since he confessed his
own life had been a wicked, abominable course of provocations
against God, that he would reform it, and not make God angry any
more, lest He should make him dead, as she called it, and then
she would be left alone, and never be taught to know this God
better; and lest he should be miserable, as he had told her
wicked men would be after death.</p>
<p>This was a strange account, and very affecting to us both, but
particularly to the young clergyman; he was, indeed, wonderfully
surprised with it, but under the greatest affliction imaginable
that he could not talk to her, that he could not speak English to
make her understand him; and as she spoke but very broken
English, he could not understand her; however, he turned himself
to me, and told me that he believed that there must be more to do
with this woman than to marry her.&nbsp; I did not understand him
at first; but at length he explained himself, viz. that she ought
to be baptized.&nbsp; I agreed with him in that part readily, and
wished it to be done presently.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, no; hold,
sir,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;though I would have her be baptized,
by all means, for I must observe that Will Atkins, her husband,
has indeed brought her, in a wonderful manner, to be willing to
embrace a religious life, and has given her just ideas of the
being of a God; of His power, justice, and mercy: yet I desire to
know of him if he has said anything to her of Jesus Christ, and
of the salvation of sinners; of the nature of faith in Him, and
redemption by Him; of the Holy Spirit, the resurrection, the last
judgment, and the future state.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I called Will Atkins again, and asked him; but the poor fellow
fell immediately into tears, and told us he had said something to
her of all those things, but that he was himself so wicked a
creature, and his own conscience so reproached him with his
horrid, ungodly life, that he trembled at the apprehensions that
her knowledge of him should lessen the attention she should give
to those things, and make her rather contemn religion than
receive it; but he was assured, he said, that her mind was so
disposed to receive due impressions of all those things, and that
if I would but discourse with her, she would make it appear to my
satisfaction that my labour would not be lost upon her.</p>
<p>Accordingly I called her in, and placing myself as interpreter
between my religious priest and the woman, I entreated him to
begin with her; but sure such a sermon was never preached by a
Popish priest in these latter ages of the world; and as I told
him, I thought he had all the zeal, all the knowledge, all the
sincerity of a Christian, without the error of a Roman Catholic;
and that I took him to be such a clergyman as the Roman bishops
were before the Church of Rome assumed spiritual sovereignty over
the consciences of men.&nbsp; In a word, he brought the poor
woman to embrace the knowledge of Christ, and of redemption by
Him, not with wonder and astonishment only, as she did the first
notions of a God, but with joy and faith; with an affection, and
a surprising degree of understanding, scarce to be imagined, much
less to be expressed; and, at her own request, she was
baptized.</p>
<p>When he was preparing to baptize her, I entreated him that he
would perform that office with some caution, that the man might
not perceive he was of the Roman Church, if possible, because of
other ill consequences which might attend a difference among us
in that very religion which we were instructing the other
in.&nbsp; He told me that as he had no consecrated chapel, nor
proper things for the office, I should see he would do it in a
manner that I should not know by it that he was a Roman Catholic
myself, if I had not known it before; and so he did; for saying
only some words over to himself in Latin, which I could not
understand, he poured a whole dishful of water upon the
woman&rsquo;s head, pronouncing in French, very loud,
&ldquo;Mary&rdquo; (which was the name her husband desired me to
give her, for I was her godfather), &ldquo;I baptize thee in the
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;&rdquo;
so that none could know anything by it what religion he was
of.&nbsp; He gave the benediction afterwards in Latin, but either
Will Atkins did not know but it was French, or else did not take
notice of it at that time.</p>
<p>As soon as this was over we married them; and after the
marriage was over, he turned to Will Atkins, and in a very
affectionate manner exhorted him, not only to persevere in that
good disposition he was in, but to support the convictions that
were upon him by a resolution to reform his life: told him it was
in vain to say he repented if he did not forsake his crimes;
represented to him how God had honoured him with being the
instrument of bringing his wife to the knowledge of the Christian
religion, and that he should be careful he did not dishonour the
grace of God; and that if he did, he would see the heathen a
better Christian than himself; the savage converted, and the
instrument cast away.&nbsp; He said a great many good things to
them both; and then, recommending them to God&rsquo;s goodness,
gave them the benediction again, I repeating everything to them
in English; and thus ended the ceremony.&nbsp; I think it was the
most pleasant and agreeable day to me that ever I passed in my
whole life.&nbsp; But my clergyman had not done yet: his thoughts
hung continually upon the conversion of the thirty-seven savages,
and fain be would have stayed upon the island to have undertaken
it; but I convinced him, first, that his undertaking was
impracticable in itself; and, secondly, that perhaps I would put
it into a way of being done in his absence to his
satisfaction.</p>
<p>Having thus brought the affairs of the island to a narrow
compass, I was preparing to go on board the ship, when the young
man I had taken out of the famished ship&rsquo;s company came to
me, and told me he understood I had a clergyman with me, and that
I had caused the Englishmen to be married to the savages; that he
had a match too, which he desired might be finished before I
went, between two Christians, which he hoped would not be
disagreeable to me.</p>
<p>I knew this must be the young woman who was his mother&rsquo;s
servant, for there was no other Christian woman on the island: so
I began to persuade him not to do anything of that kind rashly,
or because he found himself in this solitary circumstance.&nbsp;
I represented to him that he had some considerable substance in
the world, and good friends, as I understood by himself, and the
maid also; that the maid was not only poor, and a servant, but
was unequal to him, she being six or seven and twenty years old,
and he not above seventeen or eighteen; that he might very
probably, with my assistance, make a remove from this wilderness,
and come into his own country again; and that then it would be a
thousand to one but he would repent his choice, and the dislike
of that circumstance might be disadvantageous to both.&nbsp; I
was going to say more, but he interrupted me, smiling, and told
me, with a great deal of modesty, that I mistook in my
guesses&mdash;that he had nothing of that kind in his thoughts;
and he was very glad to hear that I had an intent of putting them
in a way to see their own country again; and nothing should have
made him think of staying there, but that the voyage I was going
was so exceeding long and hazardous, and would carry him quite
out of the reach of all his friends; that he had nothing to
desire of me but that I would settle him in some little property
in the island where he was, give him a servant or two, and some
few necessaries, and he would live here like a planter, waiting
the good time when, if ever I returned to England, I would redeem
him.&nbsp; He hoped I would not be unmindful of him when I came
to England: that he would give me some letters to his friends in
London, to let them know how good I had been to him, and in what
part of the world and what circumstances I had left him in: and
he promised me that whenever I redeemed him, the plantation, and
all the improvements he had made upon it, let the value be what
it would, should be wholly mine.</p>
<p>His discourse was very prettily delivered, considering his
youth, and was the more agreeable to me, because he told me
positively the match was not for himself. I gave him all possible
assurances that if I lived to come safe to England, I would
deliver his letters, and do his business effectually; and that he
might depend I should never forget the circumstances I had left
him in.&nbsp; But still I was impatient to know who was the
person to be married; upon which he told me it was my
Jack-of-all-trades and his maid Susan.&nbsp; I was most agreeably
surprised when he named the match; for, indeed, I thought it very
suitable.&nbsp; The character of that man I have given already;
and as for the maid, she was a very honest, modest, sober, and
religious young woman: had a very good share of sense, was
agreeable enough in her person, spoke very handsomely and to the
purpose, always with decency and good manners, and was neither
too backward to speak when requisite, nor impertinently forward
when it was not her business; very handy and housewifely, and an
excellent manager; fit, indeed, to have been governess to the
whole island; and she knew very well how to behave in every
respect.</p>
<p>The match being proposed in this manner, we married them the
same day; and as I was father at the altar, and gave her away, so
I gave her a portion; for I appointed her and her husband a
handsome large space of ground for their plantation; and indeed
this match, and the proposal the young gentleman made to give him
a small property in the island, put me upon parcelling it out
amongst them, that they might not quarrel afterwards about their
situation.</p>
<p>This sharing out the land to them I left to Will Atkins, who
was now grown a sober, grave, managing fellow, perfectly
reformed, exceedingly pious and religious; and, as far as I may
be allowed to speak positively in such a case, I verily believe
he was a true penitent.&nbsp; He divided things so justly, and so
much to every one&rsquo;s satisfaction, that they only desired
one general writing under my hand for the whole, which I caused
to be drawn up, and signed and sealed, setting out the bounds and
situation of every man&rsquo;s plantation, and testifying that I
gave them thereby severally a right to the whole possession and
inheritance of the respective plantations or farms, with their
improvements, to them and their heirs, reserving all the rest of
the island as my own property, and a certain rent for every
particular plantation after eleven years, if I, or any one from
me, or in my name, came to demand it, producing an attested copy
of the same writing.&nbsp; As to the government and laws among
them, I told them I was not capable of giving them better rules
than they were able to give themselves; only I made them promise
me to live in love and good neighbourhood with one another; and
so I prepared to leave them.</p>
<p>One thing I must not omit, and that is, that being now settled
in a kind of commonwealth among themselves, and having much
business in hand, it was odd to have seven-and-thirty Indians
live in a nook of the island, independent, and, indeed,
unemployed; for except the providing themselves food, which they
had difficulty enough to do sometimes, they had no manner of
business or property to manage.&nbsp; I proposed, therefore, to
the governor Spaniard that he should go to them, with
Friday&rsquo;s father, and propose to them to remove, and either
plant for themselves, or be taken into their several families as
servants to be maintained for their labour, but without being
absolute slaves; for I would not permit them to make them slaves
by force, by any means; because they had their liberty given them
by capitulation, as it were articles of surrender, which they
ought not to break.</p>
<p>They most willingly embraced the proposal, and came all very
cheerfully along with him: so we allotted them land and
plantations, which three or four accepted of, but all the rest
chose to be employed as servants in the several families we had
settled.&nbsp; Thus my colony was in a manner settled as follows:
The Spaniards possessed my original habitation, which was the
capital city, and extended their plantations all along the side
of the brook, which made the creek that I have so often
described, as far as my bower; and as they increased their
culture, it went always eastward.&nbsp; The English lived in the
north-east part, where Will Atkins and his comrades began, and
came on southward and south-west, towards the back part of the
Spaniards; and every plantation had a great addition of land to
take in, if they found occasion, so that they need not jostle one
another for want of room.&nbsp; All the east end of the island
was left uninhabited, that if any of the savages should come on
shore there only for their customary barbarities, they might come
and go; if they disturbed nobody, nobody would disturb them: and
no doubt but they were often ashore, and went away again; for I
never heard that the planters were ever attacked or disturbed any
more.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;SAILS FROM THE ISLAND FOR THE BRAZILS</h2>
<p>It now came into my thoughts that I had hinted to my friend
the clergyman that the work of converting the savages might
perhaps be set on foot in his absence to his satisfaction, and I
told him that now I thought that it was put in a fair way; for
the savages, being thus divided among the Christians, if they
would but every one of them do their part with those which came
under their hands, I hoped it might have a very good effect.</p>
<p>He agreed presently in that, if they did their part.&nbsp;
&ldquo;But how,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;shall we obtain that of
them?&rdquo;&nbsp; I told him we would call them all together,
and leave it in charge with them, or go to them, one by one,
which he thought best; so we divided it&mdash;he to speak to the
Spaniards, who were all Papists, and I to speak to the English,
who were all Protestants; and we recommended it earnestly to
them, and made them promise that they would never make any
distinction of Papist or Protestant in their exhorting the
savages to turn Christians, but teach them the general knowledge
of the true God, and of their Saviour Jesus Christ; and they
likewise promised us that they would never have any differences
or disputes one with another about religion.</p>
<p>When I came to Will Atkins&rsquo;s house, I found that the
young woman I have mentioned above, and Will Atkins&rsquo;s wife,
were become intimates; and this prudent, religious young woman
had perfected the work Will Atkins had begun; and though it was
not above four days after what I have related, yet the
new-baptized savage woman was made such a Christian as I have
seldom heard of in all my observation or conversation in the
world.&nbsp; It came next into my mind, in the morning before I
went to them, that amongst all the needful things I had to leave
with them I had not left them a Bible, in which I showed myself
less considering for them than my good friend the widow was for
me when she sent me the cargo of a hundred pounds from Lisbon,
where she packed up three Bibles and a Prayer-book.&nbsp;
However, the good woman&rsquo;s charity had a greater extent than
ever she imagined, for they were reserved for the comfort and
instruction of those that made much better use of them than I had
done.</p>
<p>I took one of the Bibles in my pocket, and when I came to Will
Atkins&rsquo;s tent, or house, and found the young woman and
Atkins&rsquo;s baptized wife had been discoursing of religion
together&mdash;for Will Atkins told it me with a great deal of
joy&mdash;I asked if they were together now, and he said,
&ldquo;Yes&rdquo;; so I went into the house, and he with me, and
we found them together very earnest in discourse.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; says Will Atkins, &ldquo;when God has
sinners to reconcile to Himself, and aliens to bring home, He
never wants a messenger; my wife has got a new instructor: I knew
I was unworthy, as I was incapable of that work; that young woman
has been sent hither from heaven&mdash;she is enough to convert a
whole island of savages.&rdquo;&nbsp; The young woman blushed,
and rose up to go away, but I desired her to sit-still; I told
her she had a good work upon her hands, and I hoped God would
bless her in it.</p>
<p>We talked a little, and I did not perceive that they had any
book among them, though I did not ask; but I put my hand into my
pocket, and pulled out my Bible.&nbsp; &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; said I
to Atkins, &ldquo;I have brought you an assistant that perhaps
you had not before.&rdquo;&nbsp; The man was so confounded that
he was not able to speak for some time; but, recovering himself,
he takes it with both his hands, and turning to his wife,
&ldquo;Here, my dear,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;did not I tell you
our God, though He lives above, could hear what we have
said?&nbsp; Here&rsquo;s the book I prayed for when you and I
kneeled down under the bush; now God has heard us and sent
it.&rdquo;&nbsp; When he had said so, the man fell into such
passionate transports, that between the joy of having it, and
giving God thanks for it, the tears ran down his face like a
child that was crying.</p>
<p>The woman was surprised, and was like to have run into a
mistake that none of us were aware of; for she firmly believed
God had sent the book upon her husband&rsquo;s petition.&nbsp; It
is true that providentially it was so, and might be taken so in a
consequent sense; but I believe it would have been no difficult
matter at that time to have persuaded the poor woman to have
believed that an express messenger came from heaven on purpose to
bring that individual book.&nbsp; But it was too serious a matter
to suffer any delusion to take place, so I turned to the young
woman, and told her we did not desire to impose upon the new
convert in her first and more ignorant understanding of things,
and begged her to explain to her that God may be very properly
said to answer our petitions, when, in the course of His
providence, such things are in a particular manner brought to
pass as we petitioned for; but we did not expect returns from
heaven in a miraculous and particular manner, and it is a mercy
that it is not so.</p>
<p>This the young woman did afterwards effectually, so that there
was no priestcraft used here; and I should have thought it one of
the most unjustifiable frauds in the world to have had it
so.&nbsp; But the effect upon Will Atkins is really not to be
expressed; and there, we may be sure, was no delusion.&nbsp; Sure
no man was ever more thankful in the world for anything of its
kind than he was for the Bible, nor, I believe, never any man was
glad of a Bible from a better principle; and though he had been a
most profligate creature, headstrong, furious, and desperately
wicked, yet this man is a standing rule to us all for the well
instructing children, viz. that parents should never give over to
teach and instruct, nor ever despair of the success of their
endeavours, let the children be ever so refractory, or to
appearance insensible to instruction; for if ever God in His
providence touches the conscience of such, the force of their
education turns upon them, and the early instruction of parents
is not lost, though it may have been many years laid asleep, but
some time or other they may find the benefit of it.&nbsp; Thus it
was with this poor man: however ignorant he was of religion and
Christian knowledge, he found he had some to do with now more
ignorant than himself, and that the least part of the instruction
of his good father that now came to his mind was of use to
him.</p>
<p>Among the rest, it occurred to him, he said, how his father
used to insist so much on the inexpressible value of the Bible,
and the privilege and blessing of it to nations, families, and
persons; but he never entertained the least notion of the worth
of it till now, when, being to talk to heathens, savages, and
barbarians, he wanted the help of the written oracle for his
assistance.&nbsp; The young woman was glad of it also for the
present occasion, though she had one, and so had the youth, on
board our ship among their goods, which were not yet brought on
shore.&nbsp; And now, having said so many things of this young
woman, I cannot omit telling one story more of her and myself,
which has something in it very instructive and remarkable.</p>
<p>I have related to what extremity the poor young woman was
reduced; how her mistress was starved to death, and died on board
that unhappy ship we met at sea, and how the whole ship&rsquo;s
company was reduced to the last extremity.&nbsp; The gentlewoman,
and her son, and this maid, were first hardly used as to
provisions, and at last totally neglected and starved&mdash;that
is to say, brought to the last extremity of hunger.&nbsp; One
day, being discoursing with her on the extremities they suffered,
I asked her if she could describe, by what she had felt, what it
was to starve, and how it appeared?&nbsp; She said she believed
she could, and told her tale very distinctly thus:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;First, we had for some days fared exceedingly hard, and
suffered very great hunger; but at last we were wholly without
food of any kind except sugar, and a little wine and water.&nbsp;
The first day after I had received no food at all, I found myself
towards evening, empty and sick at the stomach, and nearer night
much inclined to yawning and sleep.&nbsp; I lay down on the couch
in the great cabin to sleep, and slept about three hours, and
awaked a little refreshed, having taken a glass of wine when I
lay down; after being about three hours awake, it being about
five o&rsquo;clock in the morning, I found myself empty, and my
stomach sickish, and lay down again, but could not sleep at all,
being very faint and ill; and thus I continued all the second day
with a strange variety&mdash;first hungry, then sick again, with
retchings to vomit.&nbsp; The second night, being obliged to go
to bed again without any food more than a draught of fresh water,
and being asleep, I dreamed I was at Barbadoes, and that the
market was mightily stocked with provisions; that I bought some
for my mistress, and went and dined very heartily.&nbsp; I
thought my stomach was full after this, as it would have been
after a good dinner; but when I awaked I was exceedingly sunk in
my spirits to find myself in the extremity of family.&nbsp; The
last glass of wine we had I drank, and put sugar in it, because
of its having some spirit to supply nourishment; but there being
no substance in the stomach for the digesting office to work
upon, I found the only effect of the wine was to raise
disagreeable fumes from the stomach into the head; and I lay, as
they told me, stupid and senseless, as one drunk, for some
time.&nbsp; The third day, in the morning, after a night of
strange, confused, and inconsistent dreams, and rather dozing
than sleeping, I awaked ravenous and furious with hunger; and I
question, had not my understanding returned and conquered it,
whether if I had been a mother, and had had a little child with
me, its life would have been safe or not.&nbsp; This lasted about
three hours, during which time I was twice raging mad as any
creature in Bedlam, as my young master told me, and as he can now
inform you.</p>
<p>&ldquo;In one of these fits of lunacy or distraction I fell
down and struck my face against the corner of a pallet-bed, in
which my mistress lay, and with the blow the blood gushed out of
my nose; and the cabin-boy bringing me a little basin, I sat down
and bled into it a great deal; and as the blood came from me I
came to myself, and the violence of the flame or fever I was in
abated, and so did the ravenous part of the hunger.&nbsp; Then I
grew sick, and retched to vomit, but could not, for I had nothing
in my stomach to bring up.&nbsp; After I had bled some time I
swooned, and they all believed I was dead; but I came to myself
soon after, and then had a most dreadful pain in my stomach not
to be described&mdash;not like the colic, but a gnawing, eager
pain for food; and towards night it went off with a kind of
earnest wishing or longing for food.&nbsp; I took another draught
of water with sugar in it; but my stomach loathed the sugar and
brought it all up again; then I took a draught of water without
sugar, and that stayed with me; and I laid me down upon the bed,
praying most heartily that it would please God to take me away;
and composing my mind in hopes of it, I slumbered a while, and
then waking, thought myself dying, being light with vapours from
an empty stomach.&nbsp; I recommended my soul then to God, and
then earnestly wished that somebody would throw me into the into
the sea.</p>
<p>&ldquo;All this while my mistress lay by me, just, as I
thought, expiring, but she bore it with much more patience than
I, and gave the last bit of bread she had left to her child, my
young master, who would not have taken it, but she obliged him to
eat it; and I believe it saved his life.&nbsp; Towards the
morning I slept again, and when I awoke I fell into a violent
passion of crying, and after that had a second fit of violent
hunger.&nbsp; I got up ravenous, and in a most dreadful
condition; and once or twice I was going to bite my own
arm.&nbsp; At last I saw the basin in which was the blood I had
bled at my nose the day before: I ran to it, and swallowed it
with such haste, and such a greedy appetite, as if I wondered
nobody had taken it before, and afraid it should be taken from me
now.&nbsp; After it was down, though the thoughts of it filled me
with horror, yet it checked the fit of hunger, and I took another
draught of water, and was composed and refreshed for some hours
after.&nbsp; This was the fourth day; and this I kept up till
towards night, when, within the compass of three hours, I had all
the several circumstances over again, one after another, viz.
sick, sleepy, eagerly hungry, pain in the stomach, then ravenous
again, then sick, then lunatic, then crying, then ravenous again,
and so every quarter of an hour, and my strength wasted
exceedingly; at night I lay me down, having no comfort but in the
hope that I should die before morning.</p>
<p>&ldquo;All this night I had no sleep; but the hunger was now
turned into a disease; and I had a terrible colic and griping, by
wind instead of food having found its way into the bowels; and in
this condition I lay till morning, when I was surprised by the
cries and lamentations of my young master, who called out to me
that his mother was dead.&nbsp; I lifted myself up a little, for
I had not strength to rise, but found she was not dead, though
she was able to give very little signs of life.&nbsp; I had then
such convulsions in my stomach, for want of some sustenance, as I
cannot describe; with such frequent throes and pangs of appetite
as nothing but the tortures of death can imitate; and in this
condition I was when I heard the seamen above cry out, &lsquo;A
sail! a sail!&rsquo; and halloo and jump about as if they were
distracted.&nbsp; I was not able to get off from the bed, and my
mistress much less; and my young master was so sick that I
thought he had been expiring; so we could not open the cabin
door, or get any account what it was that occasioned such
confusion; nor had we had any conversation with the ship&rsquo;s
company for twelve days, they having told us that they had not a
mouthful of anything to eat in the ship; and this they told us
afterwards&mdash;they thought we had been dead.&nbsp; It was this
dreadful condition we were in when you were sent to save our
lives; and how you found us, sir, you know as well as I, and
better too.&rdquo;</p>
<p>This was her own relation, and is such a distinct account of
starving to death, as, I confess, I never met with, and was
exceeding instructive to me.&nbsp; I am the rather apt to believe
it to be a true account, because the youth gave me an account of
a good part of it; though I must own, not so distinct and so
feeling as the maid; and the rather, because it seems his mother
fed him at the price of her own life: but the poor maid, whose
constitution was stronger than that of her mistress, who was in
years, and a weakly woman too, might struggle harder with it;
nevertheless she might be supposed to feel the extremity
something sooner than her mistress, who might be allowed to keep
the last bit something longer than she parted with any to relieve
her maid.&nbsp; No question, as the case is here related, if our
ship or some other had not so providentially met them, but a few
days more would have ended all their lives.&nbsp; I now return to
my disposition of things among the people.&nbsp; And, first, it
is to be observed here, that for many reasons I did not think fit
to let them know anything of the sloop I had framed, and which I
thought of setting up among them; for I found, at least at my
first coming, such seeds of division among them, that I saw
plainly, had I set up the sloop, and left it among them, they
would, upon every light disgust, have separated, and gone away
from one another; or perhaps have turned pirates, and so made the
island a den of thieves, instead of a plantation of sober and
religious people, as I intended it; nor did I leave the two
pieces of brass cannon that I had on board, or the extra two
quarter-deck guns that my nephew had provided, for the same
reason.&nbsp; I thought it was enough to qualify them for a
defensive war against any that should invade them, but not to set
them up for an offensive war, or to go abroad to attack others;
which, in the end, would only bring ruin and destruction upon
them.&nbsp; I reserved the sloop, therefore, and the guns, for
their service another way, as I shall observe in its place.</p>
<p>Having now done with the island, I left them all in good
circumstances and in a flourishing condition, and went on board
my ship again on the 6th of May, having been about twenty-five
days among them: and as they were all resolved to stay upon the
island till I came to remove them, I promised to send them
further relief from the Brazils, if I could possibly find an
opportunity.&nbsp; I particularly promised to send them some
cattle, such as sheep, hogs, and cows: as to the two cows and
calves which I brought from England, we had been obliged, by the
length of our voyage, to kill them at sea, for want of hay to
feed them.</p>
<p>The next day, giving them a salute of five guns at parting, we
set sail, and arrived at the bay of All Saints in the Brazils in
about twenty-two days, meeting nothing remarkable in our passage
but this: that about three days after we had sailed, being
becalmed, and the current setting strong to the ENE., running, as
it were, into a bay or gulf on the land side, we were driven
something out of our course, and once or twice our men cried out,
&ldquo;Land to the eastward!&rdquo; but whether it was the
continent or islands we could not tell by any means.&nbsp; But
the third day, towards evening, the sea smooth, and the weather
calm, we saw the sea as it were covered towards the land with
something very black; not being able to discover what it was till
after some time, our chief mate, going up the main shrouds a
little way, and looking at them with a perspective, cried out it
was an army.&nbsp; I could not imagine what he meant by an army,
and thwarted him a little hastily.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo;
says he, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t be angry, for &rsquo;tis an army, and
a fleet too: for I believe there are a thousand canoes, and you
may see them paddle along, for they are coming towards us
apace.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was a little surprised then, indeed, and so was my nephew
the captain; for he had heard such terrible stories of them in
the island, and having never been in those seas before, that he
could not tell what to think of it, but said, two or three times,
we should all be devoured.&nbsp; I must confess, considering we
were becalmed, and the current set strong towards the shore, I
liked it the worse; however, I bade them not be afraid, but bring
the ship to an anchor as soon as we came so near as to know that
we must engage them.&nbsp; The weather continued calm, and they
came on apace towards us, so I gave orders to come to an anchor,
and furl all our sails; as for the savages, I told them they had
nothing to fear but fire, and therefore they should get their
boats out, and fasten them, one close by the head and the other
by the stern, and man them both well, and wait the issue in that
posture: this I did, that the men in the boats might he ready
with sheets and buckets to put out any fire these savages might
endeavour to fix to the outside of the ship.</p>
<p>In this posture we lay by for them, and in a little while they
came up with us; but never was such a horrid sight seen by
Christians; though my mate was much mistaken in his calculation
of their number, yet when they came up we reckoned about a
hundred and twenty-six canoes; some of them had sixteen or
seventeen men in them, and some more, and the least six or
seven.&nbsp; When they came nearer to us, they seemed to be
struck with wonder and astonishment, as at a sight which
doubtless they had never seen before; nor could they at first, as
we afterwards understood, know what to make of us; they came
boldly up, however, very near to us, and seemed to go about to
row round us; but we called to our men in the boats not to let
them come too near them.&nbsp; This very order brought us to an
engagement with them, without our designing it; for five or six
of the large canoes came so near our long-boat, that our men
beckoned with their hands to keep them back, which they
understood very well, and went back: but at their retreat about
fifty arrows came on board us from those boats, and one of our
men in the long-boat was very much wounded.&nbsp; However, I
called to them not to fire by any means; but we handed down some
deal boards into the boat, and the carpenter presently set up a
kind of fence, like waste boards, to cover them from the arrows
of the savages, if they should shoot again.</p>
<p>About half-an-hour afterwards they all came up in a body
astern of us, and so near that we could easily discern what they
were, though we could not tell their design; and I easily found
they were some of my old friends, the same sort of savages that I
had been used to engage with.&nbsp; In a short time more they
rowed a little farther out to sea, till they came directly
broadside with us, and then rowed down straight upon us, till
they came so near that they could hear us speak; upon this, I
ordered all my men to keep close, lest they should shoot any more
arrows, and made all our guns ready; but being so near as to be
within hearing, I made Friday go out upon the deck, and call out
aloud to them in his language, to know what they meant.&nbsp;
Whether they understood him or not, that I knew not; but as soon
as he had called to them, six of them, who were in the foremost
or nighest boat to us, turned their canoes from us, and stooping
down, showed us their naked backs; whether this was a defiance or
challenge we knew not, or whether it was done in mere contempt,
or as a signal to the rest; but immediately Friday cried out they
were going to shoot, and, unhappily for him, poor fellow, they
let fly about three hundred of their arrows, and to my
inexpressible grief, killed poor Friday, no other man being in
their sight.&nbsp; The poor fellow was shot with no less than
three arrows, and about three more fell very near him; such
unlucky marksmen they were!</p>
<p>I was so annoyed at the loss of my old trusty servant and
companion, that I immediately ordered five guns to be loaded with
small shot, and four with great, and gave them such a broadside
as they had never heard in their lives before.&nbsp; They were
not above half a cable&rsquo;s length off when we fired; and our
gunners took their aim so well, that three or four of their
canoes were overset, as we had reason to believe, by one shot
only.&nbsp; The ill manners of turning up their bare backs to us
gave us no great offence; neither did I know for certain whether
that which would pass for the greatest contempt among us might be
understood so by them or not; therefore, in return, I had only
resolved to have fired four or five guns at them with powder
only, which I knew would frighten them sufficiently: but when
they shot at us directly with all the fury they were capable of,
and especially as they had killed my poor Friday, whom I so
entirely loved and valued, and who, indeed, so well deserved it,
I thought myself not only justifiable before God and man, but
would have been very glad if I could have overset every canoe
there, and drowned every one of them.</p>
<p>I can neither tell how many we killed nor how many we wounded
at this broadside, but sure such a fright and hurry never were
seen among such a multitude; there were thirteen or fourteen of
their canoes split and overset in all, and the men all set
a-swimming: the rest, frightened out of their wits, scoured away
as fast as they could, taking but little care to save those whose
boats were split or spoiled with our shot; so I suppose that many
of them were lost; and our men took up one poor fellow swimming
for his life, above an hour after they were all gone.&nbsp; The
small shot from our cannon must needs kill and wound a great
many; but, in short, we never knew how it went with them, for
they fled so fast, that in three hours or thereabouts we could
not see above three or four straggling canoes, nor did we ever
see the rest any more; for a breeze of wind springing up the same
evening, we weighed and set sail for the Brazils.</p>
<p>We had a prisoner, indeed, but the creature was so sullen that
he would neither cat nor speak, and we all fancied he would
starve himself to death.&nbsp; But I took a way to cure him: for
I had made them take him and turn him into the long-boat, and
make him believe they would toss him into the sea again, and so
leave him where they found him, if he would not speak; nor would
that do, but they really did throw him into the sea, and came
away from him.&nbsp; Then he followed them, for he swam like a
cork, and called to them in his tongue, though they knew not one
word of what he said; however at last they took him in again,
and then he began to be more tractable: nor did I ever design
they should drown him.</p>
<p>We were now under sail again, but I was the most disconsolate
creature alive for want of my man Friday, and would have been
very glad to have gone back to the island, to have taken one of
the rest from thence for my occasion, but it could not be: so we
went on.&nbsp; We had one prisoner, as I have said, and it was a
long time before we could make him understand anything; but in
time our men taught him some English, and he began to be a little
tractable.&nbsp; Afterwards, we inquired what country he came
from; but could make nothing of what he said; for his speech was
so odd, all gutturals, and he spoke in the throat in such a
hollow, odd manner, that we could never form a word after him;
and we were all of opinion that they might speak that language as
well if they were gagged as otherwise; nor could we perceive that
they had any occasion either for teeth, tongue, lips, or palate,
but formed their words just as a hunting-horn forms a tune with
an open throat.&nbsp; He told us, however, some time after, when
we had taught him to speak a little English, that they were going
with their kings to fight a great battle.&nbsp; When he said
kings, we asked him how many kings?&nbsp; He said they were five
nation (we could not make him understand the plural &lsquo;s),
and that they all joined to go against two nation.&nbsp; We asked
him what made them come up to us?&nbsp; He said, &ldquo;To makee
te great wonder look.&rdquo;&nbsp; Here it is to be observed that
all those natives, as also those of Africa when they learn
English, always add two e&rsquo;s at the end of the words where
we use one; and they place the accent upon them, as mak&eacute;e,
tak&eacute;e, and the like; nay, I could hardly make Friday leave
it off, though at last he did.</p>
<p>And now I name the poor fellow once more, I must take my last
leave of him.&nbsp; Poor honest Friday!&nbsp; We buried him with
all the decency and solemnity possible, by putting him into a
coffin, and throwing him into the sea; and I caused them to fire
eleven guns for him.&nbsp; So ended the life of the most
grateful, faithful, honest, and most affectionate servant that
ever man had.</p>
<p>We went now away with a fair wind for Brazil; and in about
twelve days&rsquo; time we made land, in the latitude of five
degrees south of the line, being the north-easternmost land of
all that part of America.&nbsp; We kept on S. by E., in sight of
the shore four days, when we made Cape St. Augustine, and in
three days came to an anchor off the bay of All Saints, the old
place of my deliverance, from whence came both my good and evil
fate.&nbsp; Never ship came to this port that had less business
than I had, and yet it was with great difficulty that we were
admitted to hold the least correspondence on shore: not my
partner himself, who was alive, and made a great figure among
them, not my two merchant-trustees, not the fame of my wonderful
preservation in the island, could obtain me that favour.&nbsp; My
partner, however, remembering that I had given five hundred
moidores to the prior of the monastery of the Augustines, and two
hundred and seventy-two to the poor, went to the monastery, and
obliged the prior that then was to go to the governor, and get
leave for me personally, with the captain and one more, besides
eight seamen, to come on shore, and no more; and this upon
condition, absolutely capitulated for, that we should not offer
to land any goods out of the ship, or to carry any person away
without licence.&nbsp; They were so strict with us as to landing
any goods, that it was with extreme difficulty that I got on
shore three bales of English goods, such as fine broadcloths,
stuffs, and some linen, which I had brought for a present to my
partner.</p>
<p>He was a very generous, open-hearted man, although he began,
like me, with little at first.&nbsp; Though he knew not that I
had the least design of giving him anything, he sent me on board
a present of fresh provisions, wine, and sweetmeats, worth about
thirty moidores, including some tobacco, and three or four fine
medals of gold: but I was even with him in my present, which, as
I have said, consisted of fine broadcloth, English stuffs, lace,
and fine holland; also, I delivered him about the value of one
hundred pounds sterling in the same goods, for other uses; and I
obliged him to set up the sloop, which I had brought with me from
England, as I have said, for the use of my colony, in order to
send the refreshments I intended to my plantation.</p>
<p>Accordingly, he got hands, and finished the sloop in a very
few days, for she was already framed; and I gave the master of
her such instructions that he could not miss the place; nor did
he, as I had an account from my partner afterwards.&nbsp; I got
him soon loaded with the small cargo I sent them; and one of our
seamen, that had been on shore with me there, offered to go with
the sloop and settle there, upon my letter to the governor
Spaniard to allot him a sufficient quantity of land for a
plantation, and on my giving him some clothes and tools for his
planting work, which he said he understood, having been an old
planter at Maryland, and a buccaneer into the bargain.&nbsp; I
encouraged the fellow by granting all he desired; and, as an
addition, I gave him the savage whom we had taken prisoner of war
to be his slave, and ordered the governor Spaniard to give him
his share of everything he wanted with the rest.</p>
<p>When we came to fit this man out, my old partner told me there
was a certain very honest fellow, a Brazil planter of his
acquaintance, who had fallen into the displeasure of the
Church.&nbsp; &ldquo;I know not what the matter is with
him,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;but, on my conscience, I think he is
a heretic in his heart, and he has been obliged to conceal
himself for fear of the Inquisition.&rdquo; He then told me that
he would be very glad of such an opportunity to make his escape,
with his wife and two daughters; and if I would let them go to my
island, and allot them a plantation, he would give them a small
stock to begin with&mdash;for the officers of the Inquisition had
seized all his effects and estate, and he had nothing left but a
little household stuff and two slaves; &ldquo;and,&rdquo; adds
he, &ldquo;though I hate his principles, yet I would not have him
fall into their hands, for he will be assuredly burned alive if
he does.&rdquo;&nbsp; I granted this presently, and joined my
Englishman with them; and we concealed the man, and his wife and
daughters, on board our ship, till the sloop put out to go to
sea; and then having put all their goods on board some time
before, we put them on board the sloop after she was got out of
the bay.&nbsp; Our seaman was mightily pleased with this new
partner; and their stocks, indeed, were much alike, rich in
tools, in preparations, and a farm&mdash;but nothing to begin
with, except as above: however, they carried over with them what
was worth all the rest, some materials for planting sugar-canes,
with some plants of canes, which he, I mean the Brazil planter,
understood very well.</p>
<p>Among the rest of the supplies sent to my tenants in the
island, I sent them by the sloop three milch cows and five
calves; about twenty-two hogs, among them three sows; two mares,
and a stone-horse.&nbsp; For my Spaniards, according to my
promise, I engaged three Brazil women to go, and recommended it
to them to marry them, and use them kindly.&nbsp; I could have
procured more women, but I remembered that the poor persecuted
man had two daughters, and that there were but five of the
Spaniards that wanted partners; the rest had wives of their own,
though in another country.&nbsp; All this cargo arrived safe,
and, as you may easily suppose, was very welcome to my old
inhabitants, who were now, with this addition, between sixty and
seventy people, besides little children, of which there were a
great many.&nbsp; I found letters at London from them all, by way
of Lisbon, when I came back to England.</p>
<p>I have now done with the island, and all manner of discourse
about it: and whoever reads the rest of my memorandums would do
well to turn his thoughts entirely from it, and expect to read of
the follies of an old man, not warned by his own harms, much less
by those of other men, to beware; not cooled by almost forty
years&rsquo; miseries and disappointments&mdash;not satisfied
with prosperity beyond expectation, nor made cautious by
afflictions and distress beyond example.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER IX&mdash;DREADFUL OCCURRENCES IN MADAGASCAR</h2>
<p>I had no more business to go to the East Indies than a man at
full liberty has to go to the turnkey at Newgate, and desire him
to lock him up among the prisoners there, and starve him.&nbsp;
Had I taken a small vessel from England and gone directly to the
island; had I loaded her, as I did the other vessel, with all the
necessaries for the plantation and for my people; taken a patent
from the government here to have secured my property, in
subjection only to that of England; had I carried over cannon and
ammunition, servants and people to plant, and taken possession of
the place, fortified and strengthened it in the name of England,
and increased it with people, as I might easily have done; had I
then settled myself there, and sent the ship back laden with good
rice, as I might also have done in six months&rsquo; time, and
ordered my friends to have fitted her out again for our
supply&mdash;had I done this, and stayed there myself, I had at
least acted like a man of common sense.&nbsp; But I was possessed
of a wandering spirit, and scorned all advantages: I pleased
myself with being the patron of the people I placed there, and
doing for them in a kind of haughty, majestic way, like an old
patriarchal monarch, providing for them as if I had been father
of the whole family, as well as of the plantation.&nbsp; But I
never so much as pretended to plant in the name of any government
or nation, or to acknowledge any prince, or to call my people
subjects to any one nation more than another; nay, I never so
much as gave the place a name, but left it as I found it,
belonging to nobody, and the people under no discipline or
government but my own, who, though I had influence over them as a
father and benefactor, had no authority or power to act or
command one way or other, further than voluntary consent moved
them to comply.&nbsp; Yet even this, had I stayed there, would
have done well enough; but as I rambled from them, and came there
no more, the last letters I had from any of them were by my
partner&rsquo;s means, who afterwards sent another sloop to the
place, and who sent me word, though I had not the letter till I
got to London, several years after it was written, that they went
on but poorly; were discontented with their long stay there; that
Will Atkins was dead; that five of the Spaniards were come away;
and though they had not been much molested by the savages, yet
they had had some skirmishes with them; and that they begged of
him to write to me to think of the promise I had made to fetch
them away, that they might see their country again before they
died.</p>
<p>But I was gone a wildgoose chase indeed, and they that will
have any more of me must be content to follow me into a new
variety of follies, hardships, and wild adventures, wherein the
justice of Providence may be duly observed; and we may see how
easily Heaven can gorge us with our own desires, make the
strongest of our wishes be our affliction, and punish us most
severely with those very things which we think it would be our
utmost happiness to be allowed to possess.&nbsp; Whether I had
business or no business, away I went: it is no time now to
enlarge upon the reason or absurdity of my own conduct, but to
come to the history&mdash;I was embarked for the voyage, and the
voyage I went.</p>
<p>I shall only add a word or two concerning my honest Popish
clergyman, for let their opinion of us, and all other heretics in
general, as they call us, be as uncharitable as it may, I verily
believe this man was very sincere, and wished the good of all
men: yet I believe he used reserve in many of his expressions, to
prevent giving me offence; for I scarce heard him once call on
the Blessed Virgin, or mention St. Jago, or his guardian angel,
though so common with the rest of them.&nbsp; However, I say I
had not the least doubt of his sincerity and pious intentions;
and I am firmly of opinion, if the rest of the Popish
missionaries were like him, they would strive to visit even the
poor Tartars and Laplanders, where they have nothing to give
them, as well as covet to flock to India, Persia, China, &amp;c.,
the most wealthy of the heathen countries; for if they expected
to bring no gains to their Church by it, it may well be admired
how they came to admit the Chinese Confucius into the calendar of
the Christian saints.</p>
<p>A ship being ready to sail for Lisbon, my pious priest asked
me leave to go thither; being still, as he observed, bound never
to finish any voyage he began.&nbsp; How happy it had been for me
if I had gone with him.&nbsp; But it was too late now; all things
Heaven appoints for the best: had I gone with him I had never had
so many things to be thankful for, and the reader had never heard
of the second part of the travels and adventures of Robinson
Crusoe: so I must here leave exclaiming at myself, and go on with
my voyage.&nbsp; From the Brazils we made directly over the
Atlantic Sea to the Cape of Good Hope, and had a tolerably good
voyage, our course generally south-east, now and then a storm,
and some contrary winds; but my disasters at sea were at an
end&mdash;my future rubs and cross events were to befall me on
shore, that it might appear the land was as well prepared to be
our scourge as the sea.</p>
<p>Our ship was on a trading voyage, and had a supercargo on
board, who was to direct all her motions after she arrived at the
Cape, only being limited to a certain number of days for stay, by
charter-party, at the several ports she was to go to.&nbsp; This
was none of my business, neither did I meddle with it; my nephew,
the captain, and the supercargo adjusting all those things
between them as they thought fit.&nbsp; We stayed at the Cape no
longer than was needful to take in-fresh water, but made the best
of our way for the coast of Coromandel.&nbsp; We were, indeed,
informed that a French man-of-war, of fifty guns, and two large
merchant ships, were gone for the Indies; and as I knew we were
at war with France, I had some apprehensions of them; but they
went their own way, and we heard no more of them.</p>
<p>I shall not pester the reader with a tedious description of
places, journals of our voyage, variations of the compass,
latitudes, trade-winds, &amp;c.; it is enough to name the ports
and places which we touched at, and what occurred to us upon our
passages from one to another.&nbsp; We touched first at the
island of Madagascar, where, though the people are fierce and
treacherous, and very well armed with lances and bows, which they
use with inconceivable dexterity, yet we fared very well with
them a while.&nbsp; They treated us very civilly; and for some
trifles which we gave them, such as knives, scissors, &amp;c.,
they brought us eleven good fat bullocks, of a middling size,
which we took in, partly for fresh provisions for our present
spending, and the rest to salt for the ship&rsquo;s use.</p>
<p>We were obliged to stay here some time after we had furnished
ourselves with provisions; and I, who was always too curious to
look into every nook of the world wherever I came, went on shore
as often as I could.&nbsp; It was on the east side of the island
that we went on shore one evening: and the people, who, by the
way, are very numerous, came thronging about us, and stood gazing
at us at a distance.&nbsp; As we had traded freely with them, and
had been kindly used, we thought ourselves in no danger; but when
we saw the people, we cut three boughs out of a tree, and stuck
them up at a distance from us; which, it seems, is a mark in that
country not only of a truce and friendship, but when it is
accepted the other side set up three poles or boughs, which is a
signal that they accept the truce too; but then this is a known
condition of the truce, that you are not to pass beyond their
three poles towards them, nor they to come past your three poles
or boughs towards you; so that you are perfectly secure within
the three poles, and all the space between your poles and theirs
is allowed like a market for free converse, traffic, and
commerce.&nbsp; When you go there you must not carry your weapons
with you; and if they come into that space they stick up their
javelins and lances all at the first poles, and come on unarmed;
but if any violence is offered them, and the truce thereby
broken, away they run to the poles, and lay hold of their
weapons, and the truce is at an end.</p>
<p>It happened one evening, when we went on shore, that a greater
number of their people came down than usual, but all very
friendly and civil; and they brought several kinds of provisions,
for which we satisfied them with such toys as we had; the women
also brought us milk and roots, and several things very
acceptable to us, and all was quiet; and we made us a little tent
or hut of some boughs or trees, and lay on shore all night.&nbsp;
I know not what was the occasion, but I was not so well satisfied
to lie on shore as the rest; and the boat riding at an anchor at
about a stone&rsquo;s cast from the land, with two men in her to
take care of her, I made one of them come on shore; and getting
some boughs of trees to cover us also in the boat, I spread the
sail on the bottom of the boat, and lay under the cover of the
branches of the trees all night in the boat.</p>
<p>About two o&rsquo;clock in the morning we heard one of our men
making a terrible noise on the shore, calling out, for
God&rsquo;s sake, to bring the boat in and come and help them,
for they were all like to be murdered; and at the same time I
heard the fire of five muskets, which was the number of guns they
had, and that three times over; for it seems the natives here
were not so easily frightened with guns as the savages were in
America, where I had to do with them.&nbsp; All this while, I
knew not what was the matter, but rousing immediately from sleep
with the noise, I caused the boat to be thrust in, and resolved
with three fusees we had on board to land and assist our
men.&nbsp; We got the boat soon to the shore, but our men were in
too much haste; for being come to the shore, they plunged into
the water, to get to the boat with all the expedition they could,
being pursued by between three and four hundred men.&nbsp; Our
men were but nine in all, and only five of them had fusees with
them; the rest had pistols and swords, indeed, but they were of
small use to them.</p>
<p>We took up seven of our men, and with difficulty enough too,
three of them being very ill wounded; and that which was still
worse was, that while we stood in the boat to take our men in, we
were in as much danger as they were in on shore; for they poured
their arrows in upon us so thick that we were glad to barricade
the side of the boat up with the benches, and two or three loose
boards which, to our great satisfaction, we had by mere accident
in the boat.&nbsp; And yet, had it been daylight, they are, it
seems, such exact marksmen, that if they could have seen but the
least part of any of us, they would have been sure of us.&nbsp;
We had, by the light of the moon, a little sight of them, as they
stood pelting us from the shore with darts and arrows; and having
got ready our firearms, we gave them a volley that we could hear,
by the cries of some of them, had wounded several; however, they
stood thus in battle array on the shore till break of day, which
we supposed was that they might see the better to take their aim
at us.</p>
<p>In this condition we lay, and could not tell how to weigh our
anchor, or set up our sail, because we must needs stand up in the
boat, and they were as sure to hit us as we were to hit a bird in
a tree with small shot.&nbsp; We made signals of distress to the
ship, and though she rode a league off, yet my nephew, the
captain, hearing our firing, and by glasses perceiving the
posture we lay in, and that we fired towards the shore, pretty
well understood us; and weighing anchor with all speed, he stood
as near the shore as he durst with the ship, and then sent
another boat with ten hands in her, to assist us.&nbsp; We called
to them not to come too near, telling them what condition we were
in; however, they stood in near to us, and one of the men taking
the end of a tow-line in his hand, and keeping our boat between
him and the enemy, so that they could not perfectly see him, swam
on board us, and made fast the line to the boat: upon which we
slipped out a little cable, and leaving our anchor behind, they
towed us out of reach of the arrows; we all the while lying close
behind the barricade we had made.&nbsp; As soon as we were got
from between the ship and the shore, that we could lay her side
to the shore, she ran along just by them, and poured in a
broadside among them, loaded with pieces of iron and lead, small
bullets, and such stuff, besides the great shot, which made a
terrible havoc among them.</p>
<p>When we were got on board and out of danger, we had time to
examine into the occasion of this fray; and indeed our
supercargo, who had been often in those parts, put me upon it;
for he said he was sure the inhabitants would not have touched us
after we had made a truce, if we had not done something to
provoke them to it.&nbsp; At length it came out that an old
woman, who had come to sell us some milk, had brought it within
our poles, and a young woman with her, who also brought us some
roots or herbs; and while the old woman (whether she was mother
to the young woman or no they could not tell) was selling us the
milk, one of our men offered some rudeness to the girl that was
with her, at which the old woman made a great noise: however, the
seaman would not quit his prize, but carried her out of the old
woman&rsquo;s sight among the trees, it being almost dark; the
old woman went away without her, and, as we may suppose, made an
outcry among the people she came from; who, upon notice, raised
that great army upon us in three or four hours, and it was great
odds but we had all been destroyed.</p>
<p>One of our men was killed with a lance thrown at him just at
the beginning of the attack, as he sallied out of the tent they
had made; the rest came off free, all but the fellow who was the
occasion of all the mischief, who paid dear enough for his
brutality, for we could not hear what became of him for a great
while.&nbsp; We lay upon the shore two days after, though the
wind presented, and made signals for him, and made our boat sail
up shore and down shore several leagues, but in vain; so we were
obliged to give him over; and if he alone had suffered for it,
the loss had been less.&nbsp; I could not satisfy myself,
however, without venturing on shore once more, to try if I could
learn anything of him or them; it was the third night after the
action that I had a great mind to learn, if I could by any means,
what mischief we had done, and how the game stood on the
Indians&rsquo; side.&nbsp; I was careful to do it in the dark,
lest we should be attacked again: but I ought indeed to have been
sure that the men I went with had been under my command, before I
engaged in a thing so hazardous and mischievous as I was brought
into by it, without design.</p>
<p>We took twenty as stout fellows with us as any in the ship,
besides the supercargo and myself, and we landed two hours before
midnight, at the same place where the Indians stood drawn up in
the evening before.&nbsp; I landed here, because my design, as I
have said, was chiefly to see if they had quitted the field, and
if they had left any marks behind them of the mischief we had
done them, and I thought if we could surprise one or two of them,
perhaps we might get our man again, by way of exchange.</p>
<p>We landed without any noise, and divided our men into two
bodies, whereof the boatswain commanded one and I the
other.&nbsp; We neither saw nor heard anybody stir when we
landed: and we marched up, one body at a distance from another,
to the place.&nbsp; At first we could see nothing, it being very
dark; till by-and-by our boatswain, who led the first party,
stumbled and fell over a dead body.&nbsp; This made them halt a
while; for knowing by the circumstances that they were at the
place where the Indians had stood, they waited for my coming up
there.&nbsp; We concluded to halt till the moon began to rise,
which we knew would be in less than an hour, when we could easily
discern the havoc we had made among them.&nbsp; We told
thirty-two bodies upon the ground, whereof two were not quite
dead; some had an arm and some a leg shot off, and one his head;
those that were wounded, we supposed, they had carried
away.&nbsp; When we had made, as I thought, a full discovery of
all we could come to the knowledge of, I resolved on going on
board; but the boatswain and his party sent me word that they
were resolved to make a visit to the Indian town, where these
dogs, as they called them, dwelt, and asked me to go along with
them; and if they could find them, as they still fancied they
should, they did not doubt of getting a good booty; and it might
be they might find Tom Jeffry there: that was the man&rsquo;s
name we had lost.</p>
<p>Had they sent to ask my leave to go, I knew well enough what
answer to have given them; for I should have commanded them
instantly on board, knowing it was not a hazard fit for us to
run, who had a ship and ship-loading in our charge, and a voyage
to make which depended very much upon the lives of the men; but
as they sent me word they were resolved to go, and only asked me
and my company to go along with them, I positively refused it,
and rose up, for I was sitting on the ground, in order to go to
the boat.&nbsp; One or two of the men began to importune me to
go; and when I refused, began to grumble, and say they were not
under my command, and they would go.&nbsp; &ldquo;Come,
Jack,&rdquo; says one of the men, &ldquo;will you go with
me?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll go for one.&rdquo;&nbsp; Jack said he
would&mdash;and then another&mdash;and, in a word, they all left
me but one, whom I persuaded to stay, and a boy left in the
boat.&nbsp; So the supercargo and I, with the third man, went
back to the boat, where we told them we would stay for them, and
take care to take in as many of them as should be left; for I
told them it was a mad thing they were going about, and supposed
most of them would have the fate of Tom Jeffry.</p>
<p>They told me, like seamen, they would warrant it they would
come off again, and they would take care, &amp;c.; so away they
went.&nbsp; I entreated them to consider the ship and the voyage,
that their lives were not their own, and that they were entrusted
with the voyage, in some measure; that if they miscarried, the
ship might be lost for want of their help, and that they could
not answer for it to God or man.&nbsp; But I might as well have
talked to the mainmast of the ship: they were mad upon their
journey; only they gave me good words, and begged I would not be
angry; that they did not doubt but they would be back again in
about an hour at furthest; for the Indian town, they said, was
not above half-a mile off, though they found it above two miles
before they got to it.</p>
<p>Well, they all went away, and though the attempt was
desperate, and such as none but madmen would have gone about,
yet, to give them their due, they went about it as warily as
boldly; they were gallantly armed, for they had every man a fusee
or musket, a bayonet, and a pistol; some of them had broad
cutlasses, some of them had hangers, and the boatswain and two
more had poleaxes; besides all which they had among them thirteen
hand grenadoes.&nbsp; Bolder fellows, and better provided, never
went about any wicked work in the world.&nbsp; When they went out
their chief design was plunder, and they were in mighty hopes of
finding gold there; but a circumstance which none of them were
aware of set them on fire with revenge, and made devils of them
all.</p>
<p>When they came to the few Indian houses which they thought had
been the town, which was not above half a mile off, they were
under great disappointment, for there were not above twelve or
thirteen houses, and where the town was, or how big, they knew
not.&nbsp; They consulted, therefore, what to do, and were some
time before they could resolve; for if they fell upon these, they
must cut all their throats; and it was ten to one but some of
them might escape, it being in the night, though the moon was up;
and if one escaped, he would run and raise all the town, so they
should have a whole army upon them; on the other hand, if they
went away and left those untouched, for the people were all
asleep, they could not tell which way to look for the town;
however, the last was the best advice, so they resolved to leave
them, and look for the town as well as they could.&nbsp; They
went on a little way, and found a cow tied to a tree; this, they
presently concluded, would be a good guide to them; for, they
said, the cow certainly belonged to the town before them, or the
town behind them, and if they untied her, they should see which
way she went: if she went back, they had nothing to say to her;
but if she went forward, they would follow her.&nbsp; So they cut
the cord, which was made of twisted flags, and the cow went on
before them, directly to the town; which, as they reported,
consisted of above two hundred houses or huts, and in some of
these they found several families living together.</p>
<p>Here they found all in silence, as profoundly secure as sleep
could make them: and first, they called another council, to
consider what they had to do; and presently resolved to divide
themselves into three bodies, and so set three houses on fire in
three parts of the town; and as the men came out, to seize them
and bind them (if any resisted, they need not be asked what to do
then), and so to search the rest of the houses for plunder: but
they resolved to march silently first through the town, and see
what dimensions it was of, and if they might venture upon it or
no.</p>
<p>They did so, and desperately resolved that they would venture
upon them: but while they were animating one another to the work,
three of them, who were a little before the rest, called out
aloud to them, and told them that they had found&mdash;Tom
Jeffry: they all ran up to the place, where they found the poor
fellow hanging up naked by one arm, and his throat cut.&nbsp;
There was an Indian house just by the tree, where they found
sixteen or seventeen of the principal Indians, who had been
concerned in the fray with us before, and two or three of them
wounded with our shot; and our men found they were awake, and
talking one to another in that house, but knew not their
number.</p>
<p>The sight of their poor mangled comrade so enraged them, as
before, that they swore to one another that they would be
revenged, and that not an Indian that came into their hands
should have any quarter; and to work they went immediately, and
yet not so madly as might be expected from the rage and fury they
were in.&nbsp; Their first care was to get something that would
soon take fire, but, after a little search, they found that would
be to no purpose; for most of the houses were low, and thatched
with flags and rushes, of which the country is full; so they
presently made some wildfire, as we call it, by wetting a little
powder in the palm of their hands, and in a quarter of an hour
they set the town on fire in four or five places, and
particularly that house where the Indians were not gone to
bed.</p>
<p>As soon as the fire begun to blaze, the poor frightened
creatures began to rush out to save their lives, but met with
their fate in the attempt; and especially at the door, where they
drove them back, the boatswain himself killing one or two with
his poleaxe.&nbsp; The house being large, and many in it, he did
not care to go in, but called for a hand grenado, and threw it
among them, which at first frightened them, but, when it burst,
made such havoc among them that they cried out in a hideous
manner.&nbsp; In short, most of the Indians who were in the open
part of the house were killed or hurt with the grenado, except
two or three more who pressed to the door, which the boatswain
and two more kept, with their bayonets on the muzzles of their
pieces, and despatched all that came in their way; but there was
another apartment in the house, where the prince or king, or
whatever he was, and several others were; and these were kept in
till the house, which was by this time all in a light flame, fell
in upon them, and they were smothered together.</p>
<p>All this while they fired not a gun, because they would not
waken the people faster than they could master them; but the fire
began to waken them fast enough, and our fellows were glad to
keep a little together in bodies; for the fire grew so raging,
all the houses being made of light combustible stuff, that they
could hardly bear the street between them.&nbsp; Their business
was to follow the fire, for the surer execution: as fast as the
fire either forced the people out of those houses which were
burning, or frightened them out of others, our people were ready
at their doors to knock them on the head, still calling and
hallooing one to another to remember Tom Jeffry.</p>
<p>While this was doing, I must confess I was very uneasy, and
especially when I saw the flames of the town, which, it being
night, seemed to be close by me.&nbsp; My nephew, the captain,
who was roused by his men seeing such a fire, was very uneasy,
not knowing what the matter was, or what danger I was in,
especially hearing the guns too, for by this time they began to
use their firearms; a thousand thoughts oppressed his mind
concerning me and the supercargo, what would become of us; and at
last, though he could ill spare any more men, yet not knowing
what exigence we might be in, he took another boat, and with
thirteen men and himself came ashore to me.</p>
<p>He was surprised to see me and the supercargo in the boat with
no more than two men; and though he was glad that we were well,
yet he was in the same impatience with us to know what was doing;
for the noise continued, and the flame increased; in short, it
was next to an impossibility for any men in the world to restrain
their curiosity to know what had happened, or their concern for
the safety of the men: in a word, the captain told me he would go
and help his men, let what would come.&nbsp; I argued with him,
as I did before with the men, the safety of the ship, the danger
of the voyage, the interests of the owners and merchants,
&amp;c., and told him I and the two men would go, and only see if
we could at a distance learn what was likely to be the event, and
come back and tell him.&nbsp; It was in vain to talk to my
nephew, as it was to talk to the rest before; he would go, he
said; and he only wished he had left but ten men in the ship, for
he could not think of having his men lost for want of help: he
had rather lose the ship, the voyage, and his life, and all; and
away he went.</p>
<p>I was no more able to stay behind now than I was to persuade
them not to go; so the captain ordered two men to row back the
pinnace, and fetch twelve men more, leaving the long-boat at an
anchor; and that, when they came back, six men should keep the
two boats, and six more come after us; so that he left only
sixteen men in the ship: for the whole ship&rsquo;s company
consisted of sixty-five men, whereof two were lost in the late
quarrel which brought this mischief on.</p>
<p>Being now on the march, we felt little of the ground we trod
on; and being guided by the fire, we kept no path, but went
directly to the place of the flame.&nbsp; If the noise of the
guns was surprising to us before, the cries of the poor people
were now quite of another nature, and filled us with
horror.&nbsp; I must confess I was never at the sacking a city,
or at the taking a town by storm.&nbsp; I had heard of Oliver
Cromwell taking Drogheda, in Ireland, and killing man, woman, and
child; and I had read of Count Tilly sacking the city of
Magdeburg and cutting the throats of twenty-two thousand of all
sexes; but I never had an idea of the thing itself before, nor is
it possible to describe it, or the horror that was upon our minds
at hearing it.&nbsp; However, we went on, and at length came to
the town, though there was no entering the streets of it for the
fire.&nbsp; The first object we met with was the ruins of a hut
or house, or rather the ashes of it, for the house was consumed;
and just before it, plainly now to be seen by the light of the
fire, lay four men and three women, killed, and, as we thought,
one or two more lay in the heap among the fire; in short, there
were such instances of rage, altogether barbarous, and of a fury
something beyond what was human, that we thought it impossible
our men could be guilty of it; or, if they were the authors of
it, we thought they ought to be every one of them put to the
worst of deaths.&nbsp; But this was not all: we saw the fire
increase forward, and the cry went on just as the fire went on;
so that we were in the utmost confusion.&nbsp; We advanced a
little way farther, and behold, to our astonishment, three naked
women, and crying in a most dreadful manner, came flying as if
they had wings, and after them sixteen or seventeen men, natives,
in the same terror and consternation, with three of our English
butchers in the rear, who, when they could not overtake them,
fired in among them, and one that was killed by their shot fell
down in our sight.&nbsp; When the rest saw us, believing us to be
their enemies, and that we would murder them as well as those
that pursued them, they set up a most dreadful shriek, especially
the women; and two of them fell down, as if already dead, with
the fright.</p>
<p>My very soul shrunk within me, and my blood ran chill in my
veins, when I saw this; and, I believe, had the three English
sailors that pursued them come on, I had made our men kill them
all; however, we took some means to let the poor flying creatures
know that we would not hurt them; and immediately they came up to
us, and kneeling down, with their hands lifted up, made piteous
lamentation to us to save them, which we let them know we would:
whereupon they crept all together in a huddle close behind us, as
for protection.&nbsp; I left my men drawn up together, and,
charging them to hurt nobody, but, if possible, to get at some of
our people, and see what devil it was possessed them, and what
they intended to do, and to command them off; assuring them that
if they stayed till daylight they would have a hundred thousand
men about their ears: I say I left them, and went among those
flying people, taking only two of our men with me; and there was,
indeed, a piteous spectacle among them.&nbsp; Some of them had
their feet terribly burned with trampling and running through the
fire; others their hands burned; one of the women had fallen down
in the fire, and was very much burned before she could get out
again; and two or three of the men had cuts in their backs and
thighs, from our men pursuing; and another was shot through the
body and died while I was there.</p>
<p>I would fain have learned what the occasion of all this was;
but I could not understand one word they said; though, by signs,
I perceived some of them knew not what was the occasion
themselves.&nbsp; I was so terrified in my thoughts at this
outrageous attempt that I could not stay there, but went back to
my own men, and resolved to go into the middle of the town,
through the fire, or whatever might be in the way, and put an end
to it, cost what it would; accordingly, as I came back to my men,
I told them my resolution, and commanded them to follow me, when,
at the very moment, came four of our men, with the boatswain at
their head, roving over heaps of bodies they had killed, all
covered with blood and dust, as if they wanted more people to
massacre, when our men hallooed to them as loud as they could
halloo; and with much ado one of them made them hear, so that
they knew who we were, and came up to us.</p>
<p>As soon as the boatswain saw us, he set up a halloo like a
shout of triumph, for having, as he thought, more help come; and
without waiting to hear me, &ldquo;Captain,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;noble captain!&nbsp; I am glad you are come; we have not
half done yet.&nbsp; Villainous hell-hound dogs!&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll
kill as many of them as poor Tom has hairs upon his head: we have
sworn to spare none of them; we&rsquo;ll root out the very nation
of them from the earth;&rdquo; and thus he ran on, out of breath,
too, with action, and would not give us leave to speak a
word.&nbsp; At last, raising my voice that I might silence him a
little, &ldquo;Barbarous dog!&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;what are you
doing!&nbsp; I won&rsquo;t have one creature touched more, upon
pain of death; I charge you, upon your life, to stop your hands,
and stand still here, or you are a dead man this
minute.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;do
you know what you do, or what they have done?&nbsp; If you want a
reason for what we have done, come hither;&rdquo; and with that
he showed me the poor fellow hanging, with his throat cut.</p>
<p>I confess I was urged then myself, and at another time would
have been forward enough; but I thought they had carried their
rage too far, and remembered Jacob&rsquo;s words to his sons
Simeon and Levi: &ldquo;Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce;
and their wrath, for it was cruel.&rdquo;&nbsp; But I had now a
new task upon my hands; for when the men I had carried with me
saw the sight, as I had done, I had as much to do to restrain
them as I should have had with the others; nay, my nephew himself
fell in with them, and told me, in their hearing, that he was
only concerned for fear of the men being overpowered; and as to
the people, he thought not one of them ought to live; for they
had all glutted themselves with the murder of the poor man, and
that they ought to be used like murderers.&nbsp; Upon these
words, away ran eight of my men, with the boatswain and his crew,
to complete their bloody work; and I, seeing it quite out of my
power to restrain them, came away pensive and sad; for I could
not bear the sight, much less the horrible noise and cries of the
poor wretches that fell into their hands.</p>
<p>I got nobody to come back with me but the supercargo and two
men, and with these walked back to the boat.&nbsp; It was a very
great piece of folly in me, I confess, to venture back, as it
were, alone; for as it began now to be almost day, and the alarm
had run over the country, there stood about forty men armed with
lances and boughs at the little place where the twelve or
thirteen houses stood, mentioned before: but by accident I missed
the place, and came directly to the seaside, and by the time I
got to the seaside it was broad day: immediately I took the
pinnace and went on board, and sent her back to assist the men in
what might happen.&nbsp; I observed, about the time that I came
to the boat-side, that the fire was pretty well out, and the
noise abated; but in about half-an-hour after I got on board, I
heard a volley of our men&rsquo;s firearms, and saw a great
smoke.&nbsp; This, as I understood afterwards, was our men
falling upon the men, who, as I said, stood at the few houses on
the way, of whom they killed sixteen or seventeen, and set all
the houses on fire, but did not meddle with the women or
children.</p>
<p>By the time the men got to the shore again with the pinnace
our men began to appear; they came dropping in, not in two bodies
as they went, but straggling here and there in such a manner,
that a small force of resolute men might have cut them all
off.&nbsp; But the dread of them was upon the whole country; and
the men were surprised, and so frightened, that I believe a
hundred of them would have fled at the sight of but five of our
men.&nbsp; Nor in all this terrible action was there a man that
made any considerable defence: they were so surprised between the
terror of the fire and the sudden attack of our men in the dark,
that they knew not which way to turn themselves; for if they fled
one way they were met by one party, if back again by another, so
that they were everywhere knocked down; nor did any of our men
receive the least hurt, except one that sprained his foot, and
another that had one of his hands burned.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER X&mdash;HE IS LEFT ON SHORE</h2>
<p>I was very angry with my nephew, the captain, and indeed with
all the men, but with him in particular, as well for his acting
so out of his duty as a commander of the ship, and having the
charge of the voyage upon him, as in his prompting, rather than
cooling, the rage of his blind men in so bloody and cruel an
enterprise.&nbsp; My nephew answered me very respectfully, but
told me that when he saw the body of the poor seaman whom they
had murdered in so cruel and barbarous a manner, he was not
master of himself, neither could he govern his passion; he owned
he should not have done so, as he was commander of the ship; but
as he was a man, and nature moved him, he could not bear
it.&nbsp; As for the rest of the men, they were not subject to me
at all, and they knew it well enough; so they took no notice of
my dislike.&nbsp; The next day we set sail, so we never heard any
more of it.&nbsp; Our men differed in the account of the number
they had killed; but according to the best of their accounts, put
all together, they killed or destroyed about one hundred and
fifty people, men, women, and children, and left not a house
standing in the town.&nbsp; As for the poor fellow Tom Jeffry, as
he was quite dead (for his throat was so cut that his head was
half off), it would do him no service to bring him away; so they
only took him down from the tree, where he was hanging by one
hand.</p>
<p>However just our men thought this action, I was against them
in it, and I always, after that time, told them God would blast
the voyage; for I looked upon all the blood they shed that night
to be murder in them.&nbsp; For though it is true that they had
killed Tom Jeffry, yet Jeffry was the aggressor, had broken the
truce, and had ill-used a young woman of theirs, who came down to
them innocently, and on the faith of the public capitulation.</p>
<p>The boatswain defended this quarrel when we were afterwards on
board.&nbsp; He said it was true that we seemed to break the
truce, but really had not; and that the war was begun the night
before by the natives themselves, who had shot at us, and killed
one of our men without any just provocation; so that as we were
in a capacity to fight them now, we might also be in a capacity
to do ourselves justice upon them in an extraordinary manner;
that though the poor man had taken a little liberty with the
girl, he ought not to have been murdered, and that in such a
villainous manner: and that they did nothing but what was just
and what the laws of God allowed to be done to murderers.&nbsp;
One would think this should have been enough to have warned us
against going on shore amongst the heathens and barbarians; but
it is impossible to make mankind wise but at their own expense,
and their experience seems to be always of most use to them when
it is dearest bought.</p>
<p>We were now bound to the Gulf of Persia, and from thence to
the coast of Coromandel, only to touch at Surat; but the chief of
the supercargo&rsquo;s design lay at the Bay of Bengal, where, if
he missed his business outward-bound, he was to go out to China,
and return to the coast as he came home.&nbsp; The first disaster
that befell us was in the Gulf of Persia, where five of our men,
venturing on shore on the Arabian side of the gulf, were
surrounded by the Arabians, and either all killed or carried away
into slavery; the rest of the boat&rsquo;s crew were not able to
rescue them, and had but just time to get off their boat.&nbsp; I
began to upbraid them with the just retribution of Heaven in this
case; but the boatswain very warmly told me, he thought I went
further in my censures than I could show any warrant for in
Scripture; and referred to Luke xiii. 4, where our Saviour
intimates that those men on whom the Tower of Siloam fell were
not sinners above all the Galileans; but that which put me to
silence in the case was, that not one of these five men who were
now lost were of those who went on shore to the massacre of
Madagascar, so I always called it, though our men could not bear
to hear the word <i>massacre</i> with any patience.</p>
<p>But my frequent preaching to them on this subject had worse
consequences than I expected; and the boatswain, who had been the
head of the attempt, came up boldly to me one time, and told me
he found that I brought that affair continually upon the stage;
that I made unjust reflections upon it, and had used the men very
ill on that account, and himself in particular; that as I was but
a passenger, and had no command in the ship, or concern in the
voyage, they were not obliged to bear it; that they did not know
but I might have some ill-design in my head, and perhaps to call
them to an account for it when they came to England; and that,
therefore, unless I would resolve to have done with it, and also
not to concern myself any further with him, or any of his
affairs, he would leave the ship; for he did not think it safe to
sail with me among them.</p>
<p>I heard him patiently enough till he had done, and then told
him that I confessed I had all along opposed the massacre of
Madagascar, and that I had, on all occasions, spoken my mind
freely about it, though not more upon him than any of the rest;
that as to having no command in the ship, that was true; nor did
I exercise any authority, only took the liberty of speaking my
mind in things which publicly concerned us all; and what concern
I had in the voyage was none of his business; that I was a
considerable owner in the ship.&nbsp; In that claim I conceived I
had a right to speak even further than I had done, and would not
be accountable to him or any one else, and began to be a little
warm with him.&nbsp; He made but little reply to me at that time,
and I thought the affair had been over.&nbsp; We were at this
time in the road at Bengal; and being willing to see the place, I
went on shore with the supercargo in the ship&rsquo;s boat to
divert myself; and towards evening was preparing to go on board,
when one of the men came to me, and told me he would not have me
trouble myself to come down to the boat, for they had orders not
to carry me on board any more.&nbsp; Any one may guess what a
surprise I was in at so insolent a message; and I asked the man
who bade him deliver that message to me?&nbsp; He told me the
coxswain.</p>
<p>I immediately found out the supercargo, and told him the
story, adding that I foresaw there would be a mutiny in the ship;
and entreated him to go immediately on board and acquaint the
captain of it.&nbsp; But I might have spared this intelligence,
for before I had spoken to him on shore the matter was effected
on board.&nbsp; The boatswain, the gunner, the carpenter, and all
the inferior officers, as soon as I was gone off in the boat,
came up, and desired to speak with the captain; and then the
boatswain, making a long harangue, and repeating all he had said
to me, told the captain that as I was now gone peaceably on
shore, they were loath to use any violence with me, which, if I
had not gone on shore, they would otherwise have done, to oblige
me to have gone.&nbsp; They therefore thought fit to tell him
that as they shipped themselves to serve in the ship under his
command, they would perform it well and faithfully; but if I
would not quit the ship, or the captain oblige me to quit it,
they would all leave the ship, and sail no further with him; and
at that word <i>all</i> he turned his face towards the main-mast,
which was, it seems, a signal agreed on, when the seamen, being
got together there, cried out, &ldquo;<i>One and all</i>! <i>one
and all</i>!&rdquo;</p>
<p>My nephew, the captain, was a man of spirit, and of great
presence of mind; and though he was surprised, yet he told them
calmly that he would consider of the matter, but that he could do
nothing in it till he had spoken to me about it.&nbsp; He used
some arguments with them, to show them the unreasonableness and
injustice of the thing, but it was all in vain; they swore, and
shook hands round before his face, that they would all go on
shore unless he would engage to them not to suffer me to come any
more on board the ship.</p>
<p>This was a hard article upon him, who knew his obligation to
me, and did not know how I might take it.&nbsp; So he began to
talk smartly to them; told them that I was a very considerable
owner of the ship, and that if ever they came to England again it
would cost them very dear; that the ship was mine, and that he
could not put me out of it; and that he would rather lose the
ship, and the voyage too, than disoblige me so much: so they
might do as they pleased.&nbsp; However, he would go on shore and
talk with me, and invited the boatswain to go with him, and
perhaps they might accommodate the matter with me.&nbsp; But they
all rejected the proposal, and said they would have nothing to do
with me any more; and if I came on board they would all go on
shore.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the captain, &ldquo;if you
are all of this mind, let me go on shore and talk with
him.&rdquo;&nbsp; So away he came to me with this account, a
little after the message had been brought to me from the
coxswain.</p>
<p>I was very glad to see my nephew, I must confess; for I was
not without apprehensions that they would confine him by
violence, set sail, and run away with the ship; and then I had
been stripped naked in a remote country, having nothing to help
myself; in short, I had been in a worse case than when I was
alone in the island.&nbsp; But they had not come to that length,
it seems, to my satisfaction; and when my nephew told me what
they had said to him, and how they had sworn and shook hands that
they would, one and all, leave the ship if I was suffered to come
on board, I told him he should not be concerned at it at all, for
I would stay on shore.&nbsp; I only desired he would take care
and send me all my necessary things on shore, and leave me a
sufficient sum of money, and I would find my way to England as
well as I could.&nbsp; This was a heavy piece of news to my
nephew, but there was no way to help it but to comply; so, in
short, he went on board the ship again, and satisfied the men
that his uncle had yielded to their importunity, and had sent for
his goods from on board the ship; so that the matter was over in
a few hours, the men returned to their duty, and I began to
consider what course I should steer.</p>
<p>I was now alone in a most remote part of the world, for I was
near three thousand leagues by sea farther off from England than
I was at my island; only, it is true, I might travel here by land
over the Great Mogul&rsquo;s country to Surat, might go from
thence to Bassora by sea, up the Gulf of Persia, and take the way
of the caravans, over the desert of Arabia, to Aleppo and
Scanderoon; from thence by sea again to Italy, and so overland
into France.&nbsp; I had another way before me, which was to wait
for some English ships, which were coming to Bengal from Achin,
on the island of Sumatra, and get passage on board them from
England.&nbsp; But as I came hither without any concern with the
East Indian Company, so it would be difficult to go from hence
without their licence, unless with great favour of the captains
of the ships, or the company&rsquo;s factors: and to both I was
an utter stranger.</p>
<p>Here I had the mortification to see the ship set sail without
me; however, my nephew left me two servants, or rather one
companion and one servant; the first was clerk to the purser,
whom he engaged to go with me, and the other was his own
servant.&nbsp; I then took a good lodging in the house of an
Englishwoman, where several merchants lodged, some French, two
Italians, or rather Jews, and one Englishman.&nbsp; Here I stayed
above nine months, considering what course to take.&nbsp; I had
some English goods with me of value, and a considerable sum of
money; my nephew furnishing me with a thousand pieces of eight,
and a letter of credit for more if I had occasion, that I might
not be straitened, whatever might happen.&nbsp; I quickly
disposed of my goods to advantage; and, as I originally intended,
I bought here some very good diamonds, which, of all other
things, were the most proper for me in my present circumstances,
because I could always carry my whole estate about me.</p>
<p>During my stay here many proposals were made for my return to
England, but none falling out to my mind, the English merchant
who lodged with me, and whom I had contracted an intimate
acquaintance with, came to me one morning, saying:
&ldquo;Countryman, I have a project to communicate, which, as it
suits with my thoughts, may, for aught I know, suit with yours
also, when you shall have thoroughly considered it.&nbsp; Here we
are posted, you by accident and I by my own choice, in a part of
the world very remote from our own country; but it is in a
country where, by us who understand trade and business, a great
deal of money is to be got.&nbsp; If you will put one thousand
pounds to my one thousand pounds, we will hire a ship here, the
first we can get to our minds.&nbsp; You shall be captain,
I&rsquo;ll be merchant, and we&rsquo;ll go a trading voyage to
China; for what should we stand still for?&nbsp; The whole world
is in motion; why should we be idle?&rdquo;</p>
<p>I liked this proposal very well; and the more so because it
seemed to be expressed with so much goodwill.&nbsp; In my loose,
unhinged circumstances, I was the fitter to embrace a proposal
for trade, or indeed anything else.&nbsp; I might perhaps say
with some truth, that if trade was not my element, rambling was;
and no proposal for seeing any part of the world which I had
never seen before could possibly come amiss to me.&nbsp; It was,
however, some time before we could get a ship to our minds, and
when we had got a vessel, it was not easy to get English
sailors&mdash;that is to say, so many as were necessary to govern
the voyage and manage the sailors which we should pick up
there.&nbsp; After some time we got a mate, a boatswain, and a
gunner, English; a Dutch carpenter, and three foremast men.&nbsp;
With these we found we could do well enough, having Indian
seamen, such as they were, to make up.</p>
<p>When all was ready we set sail for Achin, in the island of
Sumatra, and from thence to Siam, where we exchanged some of our
wares for opium and some arrack; the first a commodity which
bears a great price among the Chinese, and which at that time was
much wanted there.&nbsp; Then we went up to Saskan, were eight
months out, and on our return to Bengal I was very well satisfied
with my adventure.&nbsp; Our people in England often admire how
officers, which the company send into India, and the merchants
which generally stay there, get such very great estates as they
do, and sometimes come home worth sixty or seventy thousand
pounds at a time; but it is little matter for wonder, when we
consider the innumerable ports and places where they have a free
commerce; indeed, at the ports where the English ships come there
is such great and constant demands for the growth of all other
countries, that there is a certain vent for the returns, as well
as a market abroad for the goods carried out.</p>
<p>I got so much money by my first adventure, and such an insight
into the method of getting more, that had I been twenty years
younger, I should have been tempted to have stayed here, and
sought no farther for making my fortune; but what was all this to
a man upwards of threescore, that was rich enough, and came
abroad more in obedience to a restless desire of seeing the world
than a covetous desire of gaining by it?&nbsp; A restless desire
it really was, for when I was at home I was restless to go
abroad; and when I was abroad I was restless to be at home.&nbsp;
I say, what was this gain to me?&nbsp; I was rich enough already,
nor had I any uneasy desires about getting more money; therefore
the profit of the voyage to me was of no great force for the
prompting me forward to further undertakings.&nbsp; Hence, I
thought that by this voyage I had made no progress at all,
because I was come back, as I might call it, to the place from
whence I came, as to a home: whereas, my eye, like that which
Solomon speaks of, was never satisfied with seeing.&nbsp; I was
come into a part of the world which I was never in before, and
that part, in particular, which I heard much of, and was resolved
to see as much of it as I could: and then I thought I might say I
had seen all the world that was worth seeing.</p>
<p>But my fellow-traveller and I had different notions: I
acknowledge his were the more suited to the end of a
merchant&rsquo;s life: who, when he is abroad upon adventures, is
wise to stick to that, as the best thing for him, which he is
likely to get the most money by.&nbsp; On the other hand, mine
was the notion of a mad, rambling boy, that never cares to see a
thing twice over.&nbsp; But this was not all: I had a kind of
impatience upon me to be nearer home, and yet an unsettled
resolution which way to go.&nbsp; In the interval of these
consultations, my friend, who was always upon the search for
business, proposed another voyage among the Spice Islands, to
bring home a loading of cloves from the Manillas, or
thereabouts.</p>
<p>We were not long in preparing for this voyage; the chief
difficulty was in bringing me to come into it.&nbsp; However, at
last, nothing else offering, and as sitting still, to me
especially, was the unhappiest part of life, I resolved on this
voyage too, which we made very successfully, touching at Borneo
and several other islands, and came home in about five months,
when we sold our spices, with very great profit, to the Persian
merchants, who carried them away to the Gulf.&nbsp; My friend,
when we made up this account, smiled at me: &ldquo;Well,
now,&rdquo; said he, with a sort of friendly rebuke on my
indolent temper, &ldquo;is not this better than walking about
here, like a man with nothing to do, and spending our time in
staring at the nonsense and ignorance of the
Pagans?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, truly,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;my
friend, I think it is, and I begin to be a convert to the
principles of merchandising; but I must tell you, by the way, you
do not know what I am doing; for if I once conquer my
backwardness, and embark heartily, old as I am, I shall harass
you up and down the world till I tire you; for I shall pursue it
so eagerly, I shall never let you lie still.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XI&mdash;WARNED OF DANGER BY A COUNTRYMAN</h2>
<p>A little while after this there came in a Dutch ship from
Batavia; she was a coaster, not an European trader, of about two
hundred tons burden; the men, as they pretended, having been so
sickly that the captain had not hands enough to go to sea with,
so he lay by at Bengal; and having, it seems, got money enough,
or being willing, for other reasons, to go for Europe, he gave
public notice he would sell his ship.&nbsp; This came to my ears
before my new partner heard of it, and I had a great mind to buy
it; so I went to him and told him of it.&nbsp; He considered a
while, for he was no rash man neither; and at last replied,
&ldquo;She is a little too big&mdash;however, we will have
her.&rdquo;&nbsp; Accordingly, we bought the ship, and agreeing
with the master, we paid for her, and took possession.&nbsp; When
we had done so we resolved to engage the men, if we could, to
join with those we had, for the pursuing our business; but, on a
sudden, they having received not their wages, but their share of
the money, as we afterwards learned, not one of them was to be
found; we inquired much about them, and at length were told that
they were all gone together by land to Agra, the great city of
the Mogul&rsquo;s residence, to proceed from thence to Surat, and
then go by sea to the Gulf of Persia.</p>
<p>Nothing had so much troubled me a good while as that I should
miss the opportunity of going with them; for such a ramble, I
thought, and in such company as would both have guarded and
diverted me, would have suited mightily with my great design; and
I should have both seen the world and gone homeward too.&nbsp;
But I was much better satisfied a few days after, when I came to
know what sort of fellows they were; for, in short, their history
was, that this man they called captain was the gunner only, not
the commander; that they had been a trading voyage, in which they
had been attacked on shore by some of the Malays, who had killed
the captain and three of his men; and that after the captain was
killed, these men, eleven in number, having resolved to run away
with the ship, brought her to Bengal, leaving the mate and five
men more on shore.</p>
<p>Well, let them get the ship how they would, we came honestly
by her, as we thought, though we did not, I confess, examine into
things so exactly as we ought; for we never inquired anything of
the seamen, who would certainly have faltered in their account,
and contradicted one another.&nbsp; Somehow or other we should
have had reason to have suspected, them; but the man showed us a
bill of sale for the ship, to one Emanuel Clostershoven, or some
such name, for I suppose it was all a forgery, and called himself
by that name, and we could not contradict him: and withal, having
no suspicion of the thing, we went through with our
bargain.&nbsp; We picked up some more English sailors here after
this, and some Dutch, and now we resolved on a second voyage to
the south-east for cloves, &amp;c.&mdash;that is to say, among
the Philippine and Malacca isles.&nbsp; In short, not to fill up
this part of my story with trifles when what is to come is so
remarkable, I spent, from first to last, six years in this
country, trading from port to port, backward and forward, and
with very good success, and was now the last year with my new
partner, going in the ship above mentioned, on a voyage to China,
but designing first to go to Siam to buy rice.</p>
<p>In this voyage, being by contrary winds obliged to beat up and
down a great while in the Straits of Malacca and among the
islands, we were no sooner got clear of those difficult seas than
we found our ship had sprung a leak, but could not discover where
it was.&nbsp; This forced us to make some port; and my partner,
who knew the country better than I did, directed the captain to
put into the river of Cambodia; for I had made the English mate,
one Mr. Thompson, captain, not being willing to take the charge
of the ship upon myself.&nbsp; This river lies on the north side
of the great bay or gulf which goes up to Siam.&nbsp; While we
were here, and going often on shore for refreshment, there comes
to me one day an Englishman, a gunner&rsquo;s mate on board an
English East India ship, then riding in the same river.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, addressing me, &ldquo;you are a
stranger to me, and I to you; but I have something to tell you
that very nearly concerns you.&nbsp; I am moved by the imminent
danger you are in, and, for aught I see, you have no knowledge of
it.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I know no danger I am in,&rdquo; said I,
&ldquo;but that my ship is leaky, and I cannot find it out; but I
intend to lay her aground to-morrow, to see if I can find
it.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;But, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;leaky or
not leaky, you will be wiser than to lay your ship on shore
to-morrow when you hear what I have to say to you.&nbsp; Do you
know, sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;the town of Cambodia lies about
fifteen leagues up the river; and there are two large English
ships about five leagues on this side, and three
Dutch?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;and what
is that to me?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, sir,&rdquo; said be,
&ldquo;is it for a man that is upon such adventures as you are to
come into a port, and not examine first what ships there are
there, and whether he is able to deal with them?&nbsp; I suppose
you do not think you are a match for them?&rdquo;&nbsp; I could
not conceive what he meant; and I turned short upon him, and
said: &ldquo;I wish you would explain yourself; I cannot imagine
what reason I have to be afraid of any of the company&rsquo;s
ships, or Dutch ships.&nbsp; I am no interloper.&nbsp; What can
they have to say to me?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo;
says he, with a smile, &ldquo;if you think yourself secure you
must take your chance; but take my advice, if you do not put to
sea immediately, you will the very next tide be attacked by five
longboats full of men, and perhaps if you are taken you will be
hanged for a pirate, and the particulars be examined
afterwards.&nbsp; I thought, sir,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;I
should have met with a better reception than this for doing you a
piece of service of such importance.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I can
never be ungrateful,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;for any service, or to
any man that offers me any kindness; but it is past my
comprehension what they should have such a design upon me for:
however, since you say there is no time to be lost, and that
there is some villainous design on hand against me, I will go on
board this minute, and put to sea immediately, if my men can stop
the leak; but, sir,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;shall I go away
ignorant of the cause of all this?&nbsp; Can you give me no
further light into it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I can tell you but part of the story, sir,&rdquo; says
he; &ldquo;but I have a Dutch seaman here with me, and I believe
I could persuade him to tell you the rest; but there is scarce
time for it.&nbsp; But the short of the story is this&mdash;the
first part of which I suppose you know well enough&mdash;that you
were with this ship at Sumatra; that there your captain was
murdered by the Malays, with three of his men; and that you, or
some of those that were on board with you, ran away with the
ship, and are since turned pirates.&nbsp; This is the sum of the
story, and you will all be seized as pirates, I can assure you,
and executed with very little ceremony; for you know merchant
ships show but little law to pirates if they get them into their
power.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Now you speak plain English,&rdquo;
said I, &ldquo;and I thank you; and though I know nothing that we
have done like what you talk of, for I am sure we came honestly
and fairly by the ship; yet seeing such a work is doing, as you
say, and that you seem to mean honestly, I will be upon my
guard.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;do
not talk of being upon your guard; the best defence is to be out
of danger.&nbsp; If you have any regard for your life and the
lives of all your men, put to sea without fail at high-water; and
as you have a whole tide before you, you will be gone too far out
before they can come down; for they will come away at high-water,
and as they have twenty miles to come, you will get near two
hours of them by the difference of the tide, not reckoning the
length of the way: besides, as they are only boats, and not
ships, they will not venture to follow you far out to sea,
especially if it blows.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said I,
&ldquo;you have been very kind in this: what shall I do to make
you amends?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you
may not be willing to make me any amends, because you may not be
convinced of the truth of it.&nbsp; I will make an offer to you:
I have nineteen months&rsquo; pay due to me on board the ship
---, which I came out of England in; and the Dutchman that is
with me has seven months&rsquo; pay due to him.&nbsp; If you will
make good our pay to us we will go along with you; if you find
nothing more in it we will desire no more; but if we do convince
you that we have saved your lives, and the ship, and the lives of
all the men in her, we will leave the rest to you.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I consented to this readily, and went immediately on board,
and the two men with me.&nbsp; As soon as I came to the
ship&rsquo;s side, my partner, who was on board, came out on the
quarter-deck, and called to me, with a great deal of joy,
&ldquo;We have stopped the leak&mdash;we have stopped the
leak!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Say you so?&rdquo; said I; &ldquo;thank
God; but weigh anchor, then,
immediately.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Weigh!&rdquo; says he;
&ldquo;what do you mean by that?&nbsp; What is the
matter?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Ask no questions,&rdquo; said I;
&ldquo;but set all hands to work, and weigh without losing a
minute.&rdquo;&nbsp; He was surprised; however, he called the
captain, and he immediately ordered the anchor to be got up; and
though the tide was not quite down, yet a little land-breeze
blowing, we stood out to sea.&nbsp; Then I called him into the
cabin, and told him the story; and we called in the men, and they
told us the rest of it; but as it took up a great deal of time,
before we had done a seaman comes to the cabin door, and called
out to us that the captain bade him tell us we were chased by
five sloops, or boats, full of men.&nbsp; &ldquo;Very
well,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;then it is apparent there is
something in it.&rdquo;&nbsp; I then ordered all our men to be
called up, and told them there was a design to seize the ship,
and take us for pirates, and asked them if they would stand by
us, and by one another; the men answered cheerfully, one and all,
that they would live and die with us.&nbsp; Then I asked the
captain what way he thought best for us to manage a fight with
them; for resist them I was resolved we would, and that to the
last drop.&nbsp; He said readily, that the way was to keep them
off with our great shot as long as we could, and then to use our
small arms, to keep them from boarding us; but when neither of
these would do any longer, we would retire to our close quarters,
for perhaps they had not materials to break open our bulkheads,
or get in upon us.</p>
<p>The gunner had in the meantime orders to bring two guns, to
bear fore and aft, out of the steerage, to clear the deck, and
load them with musket-bullets, and small pieces of old iron, and
what came next to hand.&nbsp; Thus we made ready for fight; but
all this while we kept out to sea, with wind enough, and could
see the boats at a distance, being five large longboats,
following us with all the sail they could make.</p>
<p>Two of those boats (which by our glasses we could see were
English) outsailed the rest, were near two leagues ahead of them,
and gained upon us considerably, so that we found they would come
up with us; upon which we fired a gun without ball, to intimate
that they should bring to: and we put out a flag of truce, as a
signal for parley: but they came crowding after us till within
shot, when we took in our white flag, they having made no answer
to it, and hung out a red flag, and fired at them with a
shot.&nbsp; Notwithstanding this, they came on till they were
near enough to call to them with a speaking-trumpet, bidding them
keep off at their peril.</p>
<p>It was all one; they crowded after us, and endeavoured to come
under our stern, so as to board us on our quarter; upon which,
seeing they were resolute for mischief, and depended upon the
strength that followed them, I ordered to bring the ship to, so
that they lay upon our broadside; when immediately we fired five
guns at them, one of which had been levelled so true as to carry
away the stern of the hindermost boat, and we then forced them to
take down their sail, and to run all to the head of the boat, to
keep her from sinking; so she lay by, and had enough of it; but
seeing the foremost boat crowd on after us, we made ready to fire
at her in particular.&nbsp; While this was doing one of the three
boats that followed made up to the boat which we had disabled, to
relieve her, and we could see her take out the men.&nbsp; We then
called again to the foremost boat, and offered a truce, to parley
again, and to know what her business was with us; but had no
answer, only she crowded close under our stern.&nbsp; Upon this,
our gunner who was a very dexterous fellow ran out his two
case-guns, and fired again at her, but the shot missing, the men
in the boat shouted, waved their caps, and came on.&nbsp; The
gunner, getting quickly ready again, fired among them a second
time, one shot of which, though it missed the boat itself, yet
fell in among the men, and we could easily see did a great deal
of mischief among them.&nbsp; We now wore the ship again, and
brought our quarter to bear upon them, and firing three guns
more, we found the boat was almost split to pieces; in
particular, her rudder and a piece of her stern were shot quite
away; so they handed her sail immediately, and were in great
disorder.&nbsp; To complete their misfortune, our gunner let fly
two guns at them again; where he hit them we could not tell, but
we found the boat was sinking, and some of the men already in the
water: upon this, I immediately manned out our pinnace, with
orders to pick up some of the men if they could, and save them
from drowning, and immediately come on board ship with them,
because we saw the rest of the boats began to come up.&nbsp; Our
men in the pinnace followed their orders, and took up three men,
one of whom was just drowning, and it was a good while before we
could recover him.&nbsp; As soon as they were on board we crowded
all the sail we could make, and stood farther out to the sea; and
we found that when the other boats came up to the first, they
gave over their chase.</p>
<p>Being thus delivered from a danger which, though I knew not
the reason of it, yet seemed to be much greater than I
apprehended, I resolved that we should change our course, and not
let any one know whither we were going; so we stood out to sea
eastward, quite out of the course of all European ships, whether
they were bound to China or anywhere else, within the commerce of
the European nations.&nbsp; When we were at sea we began to
consult with the two seamen, and inquire what the meaning of all
this should be; and the Dutchman confirmed the gunner&rsquo;s
story about the false sale of the ship and of the murder of the
captain, and also how that he, this Dutchman, and four more got
into the woods, where they wandered about a great while, till at
length he made his escape, and swam off to a Dutch ship, which
was sailing near the shore in its way from China.</p>
<p>He then told us that he went to Batavia, where two of the
seamen belonging to the ship arrived, having deserted the rest in
their travels, and gave an account that the fellow who had run
away with the ship, sold her at Bengal to a set of pirates, who
were gone a-cruising in her, and that they had already taken an
English ship and two Dutch ships very richly laden.&nbsp; This
latter part we found to concern us directly, though we knew it to
be false; yet, as my partner said, very justly, if we had fallen
into their hands, and they had had such a prepossession against
us beforehand, it had been in vain for us to have defended
ourselves, or to hope for any good quarter at their hands;
especially considering that our accusers had been our judges, and
that we could have expected nothing from them but what rage would
have dictated, and an ungoverned passion have executed.&nbsp;
Therefore it was his opinion we should go directly back to
Bengal, from whence we came, without putting in at any port
whatever&mdash;because where we could give a good account of
ourselves, could prove where we were when the ship put in, of
whom we bought her, and the like; and what was more than all the
rest, if we were put upon the necessity of bringing it before the
proper judges, we should be sure to have some justice, and not to
be hanged first and judged afterwards.</p>
<p>I was some time of my partner&rsquo;s opinion; but after a
little more serious thinking, I told him I thought it was a very
great hazard for us to attempt returning to Bengal, for that we
were on the wrong side of the Straits of Malacca, and that if the
alarm was given, we should be sure to be waylaid on every
side&mdash;that if we should be taken, as it were, running away,
we should even condemn ourselves, and there would want no more
evidence to destroy us.&nbsp; I also asked the English
sailor&rsquo;s opinion, who said he was of my mind, and that we
certainly should be taken.&nbsp; This danger a little startled my
partner and all the ship&rsquo;s company, and we immediately
resolved to go away to the coast of Tonquin, and so on to the
coast of China&mdash;and pursuing the first design as to trade,
find some way or other to dispose of the ship, and come back in
some of the vessels of the country such as we could get.&nbsp;
This was approved of as the best method for our security, and
accordingly we steered away NNE., keeping above fifty leagues off
from the usual course to the eastward.&nbsp; This, however, put
us to some inconvenience: for, first, the winds, when we came
that distance from the shore, seemed to be more steadily against
us, blowing almost trade, as we call it, from the E. and ENE., so
that we were a long while upon our voyage, and we were but ill
provided with victuals for so long a run; and what was still
worse, there was some danger that those English and Dutch ships
whose boats pursued us, whereof some were bound that way, might
have got in before us, and if not, some other ship bound to China
might have information of us from them, and pursue us with the
same vigour.</p>
<p>I must confess I was now very uneasy, and thought myself,
including the late escape from the longboats, to have been in the
most dangerous condition that ever I was in through my past life;
for whatever ill circumstances I had been in, I was never pursued
for a thief before; nor had I ever done anything that merited the
name of dishonest or fraudulent, much less thievish.&nbsp; I had
chiefly been my own enemy, or, as I may rightly say, I had been
nobody&rsquo;s enemy but my own; but now I was woefully
embarrassed: for though I was perfectly innocent, I was in no
condition to make that innocence appear; and if I had been taken,
it had been under a supposed guilt of the worst kind.&nbsp; This
made me very anxious to make an escape, though which way to do it
I knew not, or what port or place we could go to.&nbsp; My
partner endeavoured to encourage me by describing the several
ports of that coast, and told me he would put in on the coast of
Cochin China, or the bay of Tonquin, intending afterwards to go
to Macao, where a great many European families resided, and
particularly the missionary priests, who usually went thither in
order to their going forward to China.</p>
<p>Hither then we resolved to go; and, accordingly, though after
a tedious course, and very much straitened for provisions, we
came within sight of the coast very early in the morning; and
upon reflection on the past circumstances of danger we were in,
we resolved to put into a small river, which, however, had depth
enough of water for us, and to see if we could, either overland
or by the ship&rsquo;s pinnace, come to know what ships were in
any port thereabouts.&nbsp; This happy step was, indeed, our
deliverance: for though we did not immediately see any European
ships in the bay of Tonquin, yet the next morning there came into
the bay two Dutch ships; and a third without any colours spread
out, but which we believed to be a Dutchman, passed by at about
two leagues&rsquo; distance, steering for the coast of China; and
in the afternoon went by two English ships steering the same
course; and thus we thought we saw ourselves beset with enemies
both one way and the other.&nbsp; The place we were in was wild
and barbarous, the people thieves by occupation; and though it is
true we had not much to seek of them, and, except getting a few
provisions, cared not how little we had to do with them, yet it
was with much difficulty that we kept ourselves from being
insulted by them several ways.&nbsp; We were in a small river of
this country, within a few leagues of its utmost limits
northward; and by our boat we coasted north-east to the point of
land which opens the great bay of Tonquin; and it was in this
beating up along the shore that we discovered we were surrounded
with enemies.&nbsp; The people we were among were the most
barbarous of all the inhabitants of the coast; and among other
customs they have this one: that if any vessel has the misfortune
to be shipwrecked upon their coast, they make the men all
prisoners or slaves; and it was not long before we found a spice
of their kindness this way, on the occasion following.</p>
<p>I have observed above that our ship sprung a leak at sea, and
that we could not find it out; and it happened that, as I have
said, it was stopped unexpectedly, on the eve of our being
pursued by the Dutch and English ships in the bay of Siam; yet,
as we did not find the ship so perfectly tight and sound as we
desired, we resolved while we were at this place to lay her on
shore, and clean her bottom, and, if possible, to find out where
the leaks were.&nbsp; Accordingly, having lightened the ship, and
brought all our guns and other movables to one side, we tried to
bring her down, that we might come at her bottom; but, on second
thoughts, we did not care to lay her on dry ground, neither could
we find out a proper place for it.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XII&mdash;THE CARPENTER&rsquo;S WHIMSICAL
CONTRIVANCE</h2>
<p>The inhabitants came wondering down the shore to look at us;
and seeing the ship lie down on one side in such a manner, and
heeling in towards the shore, and not seeing our men, who were at
work on her bottom with stages, and with their boats on the
off-side, they presently concluded that the ship was cast away,
and lay fast on the ground.&nbsp; On this supposition they came
about us in two or three hours&rsquo; time with ten or twelve
large boats, having some of them eight, some ten men in a boat,
intending, no doubt, to have come on board and plundered the
ship, and if they found us there, to have carried us away for
slaves.</p>
<p>When they came up to the ship, and began to row round her,
they discovered us all hard at work on the outside of the
ship&rsquo;s bottom and side, washing, and graving, and stopping,
as every seafaring man knows how.&nbsp; They stood for a while
gazing at us, and we, who were a little surprised, could not
imagine what their design was; but being willing to be sure, we
took this opportunity to get some of us into the ship, and others
to hand down arms and ammunition to those that were at work, to
defend themselves with if there should be occasion.&nbsp; And it
was no more than need: for in less than a quarter of an
hour&rsquo;s consultation, they agreed, it seems, that the ship
was really a wreck, and that we were all at work endeavouring to
save her, or to save our lives by the help of our boats; and when
we handed our arms into the boat, they concluded, by that act,
that we were endeavouring to save some of our goods.&nbsp; Upon
this, they took it for granted we all belonged to them, and away
they came directly upon our men, as if it had been in a
line-of-battle.</p>
<p>Our men, seeing so many of them, began to be frightened, for
we lay but in an ill posture to fight, and cried out to us to
know what they should do.&nbsp; I immediately called to the men
that worked upon the stages to slip them down, and get up the
side into the ship, and bade those in the boat to row round and
come on board.&nbsp; The few who were on board worked with all
the strength and hands we had to bring the ship to rights;
however, neither the men upon the stages nor those in the boats
could do as they were ordered before the Cochin Chinese were upon
them, when two of their boats boarded our longboat, and began to
lay hold of the men as their prisoners.</p>
<p>The first man they laid hold of was an English seaman, a
stout, strong fellow, who having a musket in his hand, never
offered to fire it, but laid it down in the boat, like a fool, as
I thought; but he understood his business better than I could
teach him, for he grappled the Pagan, and dragged him by main
force out of their boat into ours, where, taking him by the ears,
he beat his head so against the boat&rsquo;s gunnel that the
fellow died in his hands.&nbsp; In the meantime, a Dutchman, who
stood next, took up the musket, and with the butt-end of it so
laid about him, that he knocked down five of them who attempted
to enter the boat.&nbsp; But this was doing little towards
resisting thirty or forty men, who, fearless because ignorant of
their danger, began to throw themselves into the longboat, where
we had but five men in all to defend it; but the following
accident, which deserved our laughter, gave our men a complete
victory.</p>
<p>Our carpenter being prepared to grave the outside of the ship,
as well as to pay the seams where he had caulked her to stop the
leaks, had got two kettles just let down into the boat, one
filled with boiling pitch, and the other with rosin, tallow, and
oil, and such stuff as the shipwrights use for that work; and the
man that attended the carpenter had a great iron ladle in his
hand, with which he supplied the men that were at work with the
hot stuff.&nbsp; Two of the enemy&rsquo;s men entered the boat
just where this fellow stood in the foresheets; he immediately
saluted them with a ladle full of the stuff, boiling hot which so
burned and scalded them, being half-naked that they roared out
like bulls, and, enraged with the fire, leaped both into the
sea.&nbsp; The carpenter saw it, and cried out, &ldquo;Well done,
Jack! give them some more of it!&rdquo; and stepping forward
himself, takes one of the mops, and dipping it in the pitch-pot,
he and his man threw it among them so plentifully that, in short,
of all the men in the three boats, there was not one that escaped
being scalded in a most frightful manner, and made such a howling
and crying that I never heard a worse noise.</p>
<p>I was never better pleased with a victory in my life; not only
as it was a perfect surprise to me, and that our danger was
imminent before, but as we got this victory without any
bloodshed, except of that man the seaman killed with his naked
hands, and which I was very much concerned at.&nbsp; Although it
maybe a just thing, because necessary (for there is no necessary
wickedness in nature), yet I thought it was a sad sort of life,
when we must be always obliged to be killing our fellow-creatures
to preserve ourselves; and, indeed, I think so still; and I would
even now suffer a great deal rather than I would take away the
life even of the worst person injuring me; and I believe all
considering people, who know the value of life, would be of my
opinion, if they entered seriously into the consideration of
it.</p>
<p>All the while this was doing, my partner and I, who managed
the rest of the men on board, had with great dexterity brought
the ship almost to rights, and having got the guns into their
places again, the gunner called to me to bid our boat get out of
the way, for he would let fly among them.&nbsp; I called back
again to him, and bid him not offer to fire, for the carpenter
would do the work without him; but bid him heat another
pitch-kettle, which our cook, who was on broad, took care
of.&nbsp; However, the enemy was so terrified with what they had
met with in their first attack, that they would not come on
again; and some of them who were farthest off, seeing the ship
swim, as it were, upright, began, as we suppose, to see their
mistake, and gave over the enterprise, finding it was not as they
expected.&nbsp; Thus we got clear of this merry fight; and having
got some rice and some roots and bread, with about sixteen hogs,
on board two days before, we resolved to stay here no longer, but
go forward, whatever came of it; for we made no doubt but we
should be surrounded the next day with rogues enough, perhaps
more than our pitch-kettle would dispose of for us.&nbsp; We
therefore got all our things on board the same evening, and the
next morning were ready to sail: in the meantime, lying at anchor
at some distance from the shore, we were not so much concerned,
being now in a fighting posture, as well as in a sailing posture,
if any enemy had presented.&nbsp; The next day, having finished
our work within board, and finding our ship was perfectly healed
of all her leaks, we set sail.&nbsp; We would have gone into the
bay of Tonquin, for we wanted to inform ourselves of what was to
be known concerning the Dutch ships that had been there; but we
durst not stand in there, because we had seen several ships go
in, as we supposed, but a little before; so we kept on NE.
towards the island of Formosa, as much afraid of being seen by a
Dutch or English merchant ship as a Dutch or English merchant
ship in the Mediterranean is of an Algerine man-of-war.</p>
<p>When we were thus got to sea, we kept on NE., as if we would
go to the Manillas or the Philippine Islands; and this we did
that we might not fall into the way of any of the European ships;
and then we steered north, till we came to the latitude of 22
degrees 30 seconds, by which means we made the island of Formosa
directly, where we came to an anchor, in order to get water and
fresh provisions, which the people there, who are very courteous
in their manners, supplied us with willingly, and dealt very
fairly and punctually with us in all their agreements and
bargains.&nbsp; This is what we did not find among other people,
and may be owing to the remains of Christianity which was once
planted here by a Dutch missionary of Protestants, and it is a
testimony of what I have often observed, viz. that the Christian
religion always civilises the people, and reforms their manners,
where it is received, whether it works saving effects upon them
or no.</p>
<p>From thence we sailed still north, keeping the coast of China
at an equal distance, till we knew we were beyond all the ports
of China where our European ships usually come; being resolved,
if possible, not to fall into any of their hands, especially in
this country, where, as our circumstances were, we could not fail
of being entirely ruined.&nbsp; Being now come to the latitude of
30 degrees, we resolved to put into the first trading port we
should come at; and standing in for the shore, a boat came of two
leagues to us with an old Portuguese pilot on board, who, knowing
us to be an European ship, came to offer his service, which,
indeed, we were glad of and took him on board; upon which,
without asking us whither we would go, he dismissed the boat he
came in, and sent it back.&nbsp; I thought it was now so much in
our choice to make the old man carry us whither we would, that I
began to talk to him about carrying us to the Gulf of Nankin,
which is the most northern part of the coast of China.&nbsp; The
old man said he knew the Gulf of Nankin very well; but smiling,
asked us what we would do there?&nbsp; I told him we would sell
our cargo and purchase China wares, calicoes, raw silks, tea,
wrought silks, &amp;c.; and so we would return by the same course
we came.&nbsp; He told us our best port would have been to put in
at Macao, where we could not have failed of a market for our
opium to our satisfaction, and might for our money have purchased
all sorts of China goods as cheap as we could at Nankin.</p>
<p>Not being able to put the old man out of his talk, of which he
was very opinionated or conceited, I told him we were gentlemen
as well as merchants, and that we had a mind to go and see the
great city of Pekin, and the famous court of the monarch of
China.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, then,&rdquo; says the old man,
&ldquo;you should go to Ningpo, where, by the river which runs
into the sea there, you may go up within five leagues of the
great canal.&nbsp; This canal is a navigable stream, which goes
through the heart of that vast empire of China, crosses all the
rivers, passes some considerable hills by the help of sluices and
gates, and goes up to the city of Pekin, being in length near two
hundred and seventy leagues.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo;
said I, &ldquo;Seignior Portuguese, but that is not our business
now; the great question is, if you can carry us up to the city of
Nankin, from whence we can travel to Pekin
afterwards?&rdquo;&nbsp; He said he could do so very well, and
that there was a great Dutch ship gone up that way just
before.&nbsp; This gave me a little shock, for a Dutch ship was
now our terror, and we had much rather have met the devil, at
least if he had not come in too frightful a figure; and we
depended upon it that a Dutch ship would be our destruction, for
we were in no condition to fight them; all the ships they trade
with into those parts being of great burden, and of much greater
force than we were.</p>
<p>The old man found me a little confused, and under some concern
when he named a Dutch ship, and said to me, &ldquo;Sir, you need
be under no apprehensions of the Dutch; I suppose they are not
now at war with your nation?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said
I, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s true; but I know not what liberties men
may take when they are out of the reach of the laws of their own
country.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you are
no pirates; what need you fear?&nbsp; They will not meddle with
peaceable merchants, sure.&rdquo;&nbsp; These words put me into
the greatest disorder and confusion imaginable; nor was it
possible for me to conceal it so, but the old man easily
perceived it.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I find you are in some
disorder in your thoughts at my talk: pray be pleased to go which
way you think fit, and depend upon it, I&rsquo;ll do you all the
service I can.&rdquo;&nbsp; Upon this we fell into further
discourse, in which, to my alarm and amazement, he spoke of the
villainous doings of a certain pirate ship that had long been the
talk of mariners in those seas; no other, in a word, than the
very ship he was now on board of, and which we had so unluckily
purchased.&nbsp; I presently saw there was no help for it but to
tell him the plain truth, and explain all the danger and trouble
we had suffered through this misadventure, and, in particular,
our earnest wish to be speedily quit of the ship altogether; for
which reason we had resolved to carry her up to Nankin.</p>
<p>The old man was amazed at this relation, and told us we were
in the right to go away to the north; and that, if he might
advise us, it should be to sell the ship in China, which we might
well do, and buy, or build another in the country; adding that I
should meet with customers enough for the ship at Nankin, that a
Chinese junk would serve me very well to go back again, and that
he would procure me people both to buy one and sell the
other.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, but, seignior,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;as
you say they know the ship so well, I may, perhaps, if I follow
your measures, be instrumental to bring some honest, innocent men
into a terrible broil; for wherever they find the ship they will
prove the guilt upon the men, by proving this was the
ship.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; says the old man,
&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll find out a way to prevent that; for as I know
all those commanders you speak of very well, and shall see them
all as they pass by, I will be sure to set them to rights in the
thing, and let them know that they had been so much in the wrong;
that though the people who were on board at first might run away
with the ship, yet it was not true that they had turned pirates;
and that, in particular, these were not the men that first went
off with the ship, but innocently bought her for their trade; and
I am persuaded they will so far believe me as at least to act
more cautiously for the time to come.&rdquo;</p>
<p>In about thirteen days&rsquo; sail we came to an anchor, at
the south-west point of the great Gulf of Nankin; where I learned
by accident that two Dutch ships were gone the length before me,
and that I should certainly fall into their hands.&nbsp; I
consulted my partner again in this exigency, and he was as much
at a loss as I was.&nbsp; I then asked the old pilot if there was
no creek or harbour which I might put into and pursue my business
with the Chinese privately, and be in no danger of the
enemy.&nbsp; He told me if I would sail to the southward about
forty-two leagues, there was a little port called Quinchang,
where the fathers of the mission usually landed from Macao, on
their progress to teach the Christian religion to the Chinese,
and where no European ships ever put in; and if I thought to put
in there, I might consider what further course to take when I was
on shore.&nbsp; He confessed, he said, it was not a place for
merchants, except that at some certain times they had a kind of a
fair there, when the merchants from Japan came over thither to
buy Chinese merchandises.&nbsp; The name of the port I may
perhaps spell wrong, having lost this, together with the names of
many other places set down in a little pocket-book, which was
spoiled by the water by an accident; but this I remember, that
the Chinese merchants we corresponded with called it by a
different name from that which our Portuguese pilot gave it, who
pronounced it Quinchang.&nbsp; As we were unanimous in our
resolution to go to this place, we weighed the next day, having
only gone twice on shore where we were, to get fresh water; on
both which occasions the people of the country were very civil,
and brought abundance of provisions to sell to us; but nothing
without money.</p>
<p>We did not come to the other port (the wind being contrary)
for five days; but it was very much to our satisfaction, and I
was thankful when I set my foot on shore, resolving, and my
partner too, that if it was possible to dispose of ourselves and
effects any other way, though not profitably, we would never more
set foot on board that unhappy vessel.&nbsp; Indeed, I must
acknowledge, that of all the circumstances of life that ever I
had any experience of, nothing makes mankind so completely
miserable as that of being in constant fear.&nbsp; Well does the
Scripture say, &ldquo;The fear of man brings a snare&rdquo;; it
is a life of death, and the mind is so entirely oppressed by it,
that it is capable of no relief.</p>
<p>Nor did it fail of its usual operations upon the fancy, by
heightening every danger; representing the English and Dutch
captains to be men incapable of hearing reason, or of
distinguishing between honest men and rogues; or between a story
calculated for our own turn, made out of nothing, on purpose to
deceive, and a true, genuine account of our whole voyage,
progress, and design; for we might many ways have convinced any
reasonable creatures that we were not pirates; the goods we had
on board, the course we steered, our frankly showing ourselves,
and entering into such and such ports; and even our very manner,
the force we had, the number of men, the few arms, the little
ammunition, short provisions; all these would have served to
convince any men that we were no pirates.&nbsp; The opium and
other goods we had on board would make it appear the ship had
been at Bengal.&nbsp; The Dutchmen, who, it was said, had the
names of all the men that were in the ship, might easily see that
we were a mixture of English, Portuguese, and Indians, and but
two Dutchmen on board.&nbsp; These, and many other particular
circumstances, might have made it evident to the understanding of
any commander, whose hands we might fall into, that we were no
pirates.</p>
<p>But fear, that blind, useless passion, worked another way, and
threw us into the vapours; it bewildered our understandings, and
set the imagination at work to form a thousand terrible things
that perhaps might never happen.&nbsp; We first supposed, as
indeed everybody had related to us, that the seamen on board the
English and Dutch ships, but especially the Dutch, were so
enraged at the name of a pirate, and especially at our beating
off their boats and escaping, that they would not give themselves
leave to inquire whether we were pirates or no, but would execute
us off-hand, without giving us any room for a defence.&nbsp; We
reflected that there really was so much apparent evidence before
them, that they would scarce inquire after any more; as, first,
that the ship was certainly the same, and that some of the seamen
among them knew her, and had been on board her; and, secondly,
that when we had intelligence at the river of Cambodia that they
were coming down to examine us, we fought their boats and
fled.&nbsp; Therefore we made no doubt but they were as fully
satisfied of our being pirates as we were satisfied of the
contrary; and, as I often said, I know not but I should have been
apt to have taken those circumstances for evidence, if the tables
were turned, and my case was theirs; and have made no scruple of
cutting all the crew to pieces, without believing, or perhaps
considering, what they might have to offer in their defence.</p>
<p>But let that be how it will, these were our apprehensions; and
both my partner and I scarce slept a night without dreaming of
halters and yard-arms; of fighting, and being taken; of killing,
and being killed: and one night I was in such a fury in my dream,
fancying the Dutchmen had boarded us, and I was knocking one of
their seamen down, that I struck my doubled fist against the side
of the cabin I lay in with such a force as wounded my hand
grievously, broke my knuckles, and cut and bruised the flesh, so
that it awaked me out of my sleep.&nbsp; Another apprehension I
had was, the cruel usage we might meet with from them if we fell
into their hands; then the story of Amboyna came into my head,
and how the Dutch might perhaps torture us, as they did our
countrymen there, and make some of our men, by extremity of
torture, confess to crimes they never were guilty of, or own
themselves and all of us to be pirates, and so they would put us
to death with a formal appearance of justice; and that they might
be tempted to do this for the gain of our ship and cargo, worth
altogether four or five thousand pounds.&nbsp; We did not
consider that the captains of ships have no authority to act
thus; and if we had surrendered prisoners to them, they could not
answer the destroying us, or torturing us, but would be
accountable for it when they came to their country.&nbsp;
However, if they were to act thus with us, what advantage would
it be to us that they should be called to an account for
it?&mdash;or if we were first to be murdered, what satisfaction
would it be to us to have them punished when they came home?</p>
<p>I cannot refrain taking notice here what reflections I now had
upon the vast variety of my particular circumstances; how hard I
thought it that I, who had spent forty years in a life of
continual difficulties, and was at last come, as it were, to the
port or haven which all men drive at, viz. to have rest and
plenty, should be a volunteer in new sorrows by my own unhappy
choice, and that I, who had escaped so many dangers in my youth,
should now come to be hanged in my old age, and in so remote a
place, for a crime which I was not in the least inclined to, much
less guilty of.&nbsp; After these thoughts something of religion
would come in; and I would be considering that this seemed to me
to be a disposition of immediate Providence, and I ought to look
upon it and submit to it as such.&nbsp; For, although I was
innocent as to men, I was far from being innocent as to my Maker;
and I ought to look in and examine what other crimes in my life
were most obvious to me, and for which Providence might justly
inflict this punishment as a retribution; and thus I ought to
submit to this, just as I would to a shipwreck, if it had pleased
God to have brought such a disaster upon me.</p>
<p>In its turn natural courage would sometimes take its place,
and then I would be talking myself up to vigorous resolutions;
that I would not be taken to be barbarously used by a parcel of
merciless wretches in cold blood; that it were much better to
have fallen into the hands of the savages, though I were sure
they would feast upon me when they had taken me, than those who
would perhaps glut their rage upon me by inhuman tortures and
barbarities; that in the case of the savages, I always resolved
to die fighting to the last gasp, and why should I not do so
now?&nbsp; Whenever these thoughts prevailed, I was sure to put
myself into a kind of fever with the agitation of a supposed
fight; my blood would boil, and my eyes sparkle, as if I was
engaged, and I always resolved to take no quarter at their hands;
but even at last, if I could resist no longer, I would blow up
the ship and all that was in her, and leave them but little booty
to boast of.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;ARRIVAL IN CHINA</h2>
<p>The greater weight the anxieties and perplexities of these
things were to our thoughts while we were at sea, the greater was
our satisfaction when we saw ourselves on shore; and my partner
told me he dreamed that he had a very heavy load upon his back,
which he was to carry up a hill, and found that he was not able
to stand longer under it; but that the Portuguese pilot came and
took it off his back, and the hill disappeared, the ground before
him appearing all smooth and plain: and truly it was so; they
were all like men who had a load taken off their backs.&nbsp; For
my part I had a weight taken off from my heart that it was not
able any longer to bear; and as I said above we resolved to go no
more to sea in that ship.&nbsp; When we came on shore, the old
pilot, who was now our friend, got us a lodging, together with a
warehouse for our goods; it was a little hut, with a larger house
adjoining to it, built and also palisadoed round with canes, to
keep out pilferers, of which there were not a few in that
country: however, the magistrates allowed us a little guard, and
we had a soldier with a kind of half-pike, who stood sentinel at
our door, to whom we allowed a pint of rice and a piece of money
about the value of three-pence per day, so that our goods were
kept very safe.</p>
<p>The fair or mart usually kept at this place had been over some
time; however, we found that there were three or four junks in
the river, and two ships from Japan, with goods which they had
bought in China, and were not gone away, having some Japanese
merchants on shore.</p>
<p>The first thing our old Portuguese pilot did for us was to get
us acquainted with three missionary Romish priests who were in
the town, and who had been there some time converting the people
to Christianity; but we thought they made but poor work of it,
and made them but sorry Christians when they had done.&nbsp; One
of these was a Frenchman, whom they called Father Simon; another
was a Portuguese; and a third a Genoese.&nbsp; Father Simon was
courteous, and very agreeable company; but the other two were
more reserved, seemed rigid and austere, and applied seriously to
the work they came about, viz. to talk with and insinuate
themselves among the inhabitants wherever they had
opportunity.&nbsp; We often ate and drank with those men; and
though I must confess the conversion, as they call it, of the
Chinese to Christianity is so far from the true conversion
required to bring heathen people to the faith of Christ, that it
seems to amount to little more than letting them know the name of
Christ, and say some prayers to the Virgin Mary and her Son, in a
tongue which they understood not, and to cross themselves, and
the like; yet it must be confessed that the religionists, whom we
call missionaries, have a firm belief that these people will be
saved, and that they are the instruments of it; and on this
account they undergo not only the fatigue of the voyage, and the
hazards of living in such places, but oftentimes death itself,
and the most violent tortures, for the sake of this work.</p>
<p>Father Simon was appointed, it seems, by order of the chief of
the mission, to go up to Pekin, and waited only for another
priest, who was ordered to come to him from Macao, to go along
with him.&nbsp; We scarce ever met together but he was inviting
me to go that journey; telling me how he would show me all the
glorious things of that mighty empire, and, among the rest,
Pekin, the greatest city in the world: &ldquo;A city,&rdquo; said
he, &ldquo;that your London and our Paris put together cannot be
equal to.&rdquo;&nbsp; But as I looked on those things with
different eyes from other men, so I shall give my opinion of them
in a few words, when I come in the course of my travels to speak
more particularly of them.</p>
<p>Dining with Father Simon one day, and being very merry
together, I showed some little inclination to go with him; and he
pressed me and my partner very hard to consent.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why,
father,&rdquo; says my partner, &ldquo;should you desire our
company so much? you know we are heretics, and you do not love
us, nor cannot keep us company with any
pleasure.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you may
perhaps be good Catholics in time; my business here is to convert
heathens, and who knows but I may convert you
too?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Very well, father,&rdquo; said I,
&ldquo;so you will preach to us all the
way?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I will not be troublesome to you,&rdquo;
says he; &ldquo;our religion does not divest us of good manners;
besides, we are here like countrymen; and so we are, compared to
the place we are in; and if you are Huguenots, and I a Catholic,
we may all be Christians at last; at least, we are all gentlemen,
and we may converse so, without being uneasy to one
another.&rdquo;&nbsp; I liked this part of his discourse very
well, and it began to put me in mind of my priest that I had left
in the Brazils; but Father Simon did not come up to his character
by a great deal; for though this friar had no appearance of a
criminal levity in him, yet he had not that fund of Christian
zeal, strict piety, and sincere affection to religion that my
other good ecclesiastic had.</p>
<p>But to leave him a little, though he never left us, nor
solicited us to go with him; we had something else before us at
first, for we had all this while our ship and our merchandise to
dispose of, and we began to be very doubtful what we should do,
for we were now in a place of very little business.&nbsp; Once I
was about to venture to sail for the river of Kilam, and the city
of Nankin; but Providence seemed now more visibly, as I thought,
than ever to concern itself in our affairs; and I was encouraged,
from this very time, to think I should, one way or other, get out
of this entangled circumstance, and be brought home to my own
country again, though I had not the least view of the
manner.&nbsp; Providence, I say, began here to clear up our way a
little; and the first thing that offered was, that our old
Portuguese pilot brought a Japan merchant to us, who inquired
what goods we had: and, in the first place, he bought all our
opium, and gave us a very good price for it, paying us in gold by
weight, some in small pieces of their own coin, and some in small
wedges, of about ten or twelves ounces each.&nbsp; While we were
dealing with him for our opium, it came into my head that he
might perhaps deal for the ship too, and I ordered the
interpreter to propose it to him.&nbsp; He shrunk up his
shoulders at it when it was first proposed to him; but in a few
days after he came to me, with one of the missionary priests for
his interpreter, and told me he had a proposal to make to me,
which was this: he had bought a great quantity of our goods, when
he had no thoughts of proposals made to him of buying the ship;
and that, therefore, he had not money to pay for the ship: but if
I would let the same men who were in the ship navigate her, he
would hire the ship to go to Japan; and would send them from
thence to the Philippine Islands with another loading, which he
would pay the freight of before they went from Japan: and that at
their return he would buy the ship.&nbsp; I began to listen to
his proposal, and so eager did my head still run upon rambling,
that I could not but begin to entertain a notion of going myself
with him, and so to set sail from the Philippine Islands away to
the South Seas; accordingly, I asked the Japanese merchant if he
would not hire us to the Philippine Islands and discharge us
there.&nbsp; He said No, he could not do that, for then he could
not have the return of his cargo; but he would discharge us in
Japan, at the ship&rsquo;s return.&nbsp; Well, still I was for
taking him at that proposal, and going myself; but my partner,
wiser than myself, persuaded me from it, representing the
dangers, as well of the seas as of the Japanese, who are a false,
cruel, and treacherous people; likewise those of the Spaniards at
the Philippines, more false, cruel, and treacherous than
they.</p>
<p>But to bring this long turn of our affairs to a conclusion;
the first thing we had to do was to consult with the captain of
the ship, and with his men, and know if they were willing to go
to Japan.&nbsp; While I was doing this, the young man whom my
nephew had left with me as my companion came up, and told me that
he thought that voyage promised very fair, and that there was a
great prospect of advantage, and he would be very glad if I
undertook it; but that if I would not, and would give him leave,
he would go as a merchant, or as I pleased to order him; that if
ever he came to England, and I was there and alive, he would
render me a faithful account of his success, which should be as
much mine as I pleased.&nbsp; I was loath to part with him; but
considering the prospect of advantage, which really was
considerable, and that he was a young fellow likely to do well in
it, I inclined to let him go; but I told him I would consult my
partner, and give him an answer the next day.&nbsp; I discoursed
about it with my partner, who thereupon made a most generous
offer: &ldquo;You know it has been an unlucky ship,&rdquo; said
he, &ldquo;and we both resolve not to go to sea in it again; if
your steward&rdquo; (so he called my man) &ldquo;will venture the
voyage, I will leave my share of the vessel to him, and let him
make the best of it; and if we live to meet in England, and he
meets with success abroad, he shall account for one half of the
profits of the ship&rsquo;s freight to us; the other shall be his
own.&rdquo;</p>
<p>If my partner, who was no way concerned with my young man,
made him such an offer, I could not do less than offer him the
same; and all the ship&rsquo;s company being willing to go with
him, we made over half the ship to him in property, and took a
writing from him, obliging him to account for the other, and away
he went to Japan.&nbsp; The Japan merchant proved a very
punctual, honest man to him: protected him at Japan, and got him
a licence to come on shore, which the Europeans in general have
not lately obtained.&nbsp; He paid him his freight very
punctually; sent him to the Philippines loaded with Japan and
China wares, and a supercargo of their own, who, trafficking with
the Spaniards, brought back European goods again, and a great
quantity of spices; and there he was not only paid his freight
very well, and at a very good price, but not being willing to
sell the ship, then the merchant furnished him goods on his own
account; and with some money, and some spices of his own which he
brought with him, he went back to the Manillas, where he sold his
cargo very well.&nbsp; Here, having made a good acquaintance at
Manilla, he got his ship made a free ship, and the governor of
Manilla hired him to go to Acapulco, on the coast of America, and
gave him a licence to land there, and to travel to Mexico, and to
pass in any Spanish ship to Europe with all his men.&nbsp; He
made the voyage to Acapulco very happily, and there he sold his
ship: and having there also obtained allowance to travel by land
to Porto Bello, he found means to get to Jamaica, with all his
treasure, and about eight years after came to England exceeding
rich.</p>
<p>But to return to our particular affairs, being now to part
with the ship and ship&rsquo;s company, it came before us, of
course, to consider what recompense we should give to the two men
that gave us such timely notice of the design against us in the
river Cambodia.&nbsp; The truth was, they had done us a very
considerable service, and deserved well at our hands; though, by
the way, they were a couple of rogues, too; for, as they believed
the story of our being pirates, and that we had really run away
with the ship, they came down to us, not only to betray the
design that was formed against us, but to go to sea with us as
pirates.&nbsp; One of them confessed afterwards that nothing else
but the hopes of going a-roguing brought him to do it: however,
the service they did us was not the less, and therefore, as I had
promised to be grateful to them, I first ordered the money to be
paid them which they said was due to them on board their
respective ships: over and above that, I gave each of them a
small sum of money in gold, which contented them very well.&nbsp;
I then made the Englishman gunner in the ship, the gunner being
now made second mate and purser; the Dutchman I made boatswain;
so they were both very well pleased, and proved very serviceable,
being both able seamen, and very stout fellows.</p>
<p>We were now on shore in China; if I thought myself banished,
and remote from my own country at Bengal, where I had many ways
to get home for my money, what could I think of myself now, when
I was about a thousand leagues farther off from home, and
destitute of all manner of prospect of return?&nbsp; All we had
for it was this: that in about four months&rsquo; time there was
to be another fair at the place where we were, and then we might
be able to purchase various manufactures of the country, and
withal might possibly find some Chinese junks from Tonquin for
sail, that would carry us and our goods whither we pleased.&nbsp;
This I liked very well, and resolved to wait; besides, as our
particular persons were not obnoxious, so if any English or Dutch
ships came thither, perhaps we might have an opportunity to load
our goods, and get passage to some other place in India nearer
home.&nbsp; Upon these hopes we resolved to continue here; but,
to divert ourselves, we took two or three journeys into the
country.</p>
<p>First, we went ten days&rsquo; journey to Nankin, a city well
worth seeing; they say it has a million of people in it: it is
regularly built, and the streets are all straight, and cross one
another in direct lines.&nbsp; But when I come to compare the
miserable people of these countries with ours, their fabrics,
their manner of living, their government, their religion, their
wealth, and their glory, as some call it, I must confess that I
scarcely think it worth my while to mention them here.&nbsp; We
wonder at the grandeur, the riches, the pomp, the ceremonies, the
government, the manufactures, the commerce, and conduct of these
people; not that there is really any matter for wonder, but
because, having a true notion of the barbarity of those
countries, the rudeness and the ignorance that prevail there, we
do not expect to find any such thing so far off.&nbsp; Otherwise,
what are their buildings to the palaces and royal buildings of
Europe?&nbsp; What their trade to the universal commerce of
England, Holland, France, and Spain?&nbsp; What are their cities
to ours, for wealth, strength, gaiety of apparel, rich furniture,
and infinite variety?&nbsp; What are their ports, supplied with a
few junks and barks, to our navigation, our merchant fleets, our
large and powerful navies?&nbsp; Our city of London has more
trade than half their mighty empire: one English, Dutch, or
French man-of-war of eighty guns would be able to fight almost
all the shipping belonging to China: but the greatness of their
wealth, their trade, the power of their government, and the
strength of their armies, may be a little surprising to us,
because, as I have said, considering them as a barbarous nation
of pagans, little better than savages, we did not expect such
things among them.&nbsp; But all the forces of their empire,
though they were to bring two millions of men into the field
together, would be able to do nothing but ruin the country and
starve themselves; a million of their foot could not stand before
one embattled body of our infantry, posted so as not to be
surrounded, though they were not to be one to twenty in number;
nay, I do not boast if I say that thirty thousand German or
English foot, and ten thousand horse, well managed, could defeat
all the forces of China.&nbsp; Nor is there a fortified town in
China that could hold out one month against the batteries and
attacks of an European army.&nbsp; They have firearms, it is
true, but they are awkward and uncertain in their going off; and
their powder has but little strength.&nbsp; Their armies are
badly disciplined, and want skill to attack, or temper to
retreat; and therefore, I must confess, it seemed strange to me,
when I came home, and heard our people say such fine things of
the power, glory, magnificence, and trade of the Chinese;
because, as far as I saw, they appeared to be a contemptible herd
or crowd of ignorant, sordid slaves, subjected to a government
qualified only to rule such a people; and were not its distance
inconceivably, great from Muscovy, and that empire in a manner as
rude, impotent, and ill governed as they, the Czar of Muscovy
might with ease drive them all out of their country, and conquer
them in one campaign; and had the Czar (who is now a growing
prince) fallen this way, instead of attacking the warlike Swedes,
and equally improved himself in the art of war, as they say he
has done; and if none of the powers of Europe had envied or
interrupted him, he might by this time have been Emperor of
China, instead of being beaten by the King of Sweden at Narva,
when the latter was not one to six in number.</p>
<p>As their strength and their grandeur, so their navigation,
commerce, and husbandry are very imperfect, compared to the same
things in Europe; also, in their knowledge, their learning, and
in their skill in the sciences, they are either very awkward or
defective, though they have globes or spheres, and a smattering
of the mathematics, and think they know more than all the world
besides.&nbsp; But they know little of the motions of the
heavenly bodies; and so grossly and absurdly ignorant are their
common people, that when the sun is eclipsed, they think a great
dragon has assaulted it, and is going to run away with it; and
they fall a clattering with all the drums and kettles in the
country, to fright the monster away, just as we do to hive a
swarm of bees!</p>
<p>As this is the only excursion of the kind which I have made in
all the accounts I have given of my travels, so I shall make no
more such.&nbsp; It is none of my business, nor any part of my
design; but to give an account of my own adventures through a
life of inimitable wanderings, and a long variety of changes,
which, perhaps, few that come after me will have heard the like
of: I shall, therefore, say very little of all the mighty places,
desert countries, and numerous people I have yet to pass through,
more than relates to my own story, and which my concern among
them will make necessary.</p>
<p>I was now, as near as I can compute, in the heart of China,
about thirty degrees north of the line, for we were returned from
Nankin.&nbsp; I had indeed a mind to see the city of Pekin, which
I had heard so much of, and Father Simon importuned me daily to
do it.&nbsp; At length his time of going away being set, and the
other missionary who was to go with him being arrived from Macao,
it was necessary that we should resolve either to go or not; so I
referred it to my partner, and left it wholly to his choice, who
at length resolved it in the affirmative, and we prepared for our
journey.&nbsp; We set out with very good advantage as to finding
the way; for we got leave to travel in the retinue of one of
their mandarins, a kind of viceroy or principal magistrate in the
province where they reside, and who take great state upon them,
travelling with great attendance, and great homage from the
people, who are sometimes greatly impoverished by them, being
obliged to furnish provisions for them and all their attendants
in their journeys.&nbsp; I particularly observed in our
travelling with his baggage, that though we received sufficient
provisions both for ourselves and our horses from the country, as
belonging to the mandarin, yet we were obliged to pay for
everything we had, after the market price of the country, and the
mandarin&rsquo;s steward collected it duly from us.&nbsp; Thus
our travelling in the retinue of the mandarin, though it was a
great act of kindness, was not such a mighty favour to us, but
was a great advantage to him, considering there were above thirty
other people travelled in the same manner besides us, under the
protection of his retinue; for the country furnished all the
provisions for nothing to him, and yet he took our money for
them.</p>
<p>We were twenty-five days travelling to Pekin, through a
country exceeding populous, but I think badly cultivated; the
husbandry, the economy, and the way of living miserable, though
they boast so much of the industry of the people: I say
miserable, if compared with our own, but not so to these poor
wretches, who know no other.&nbsp; The pride of the poor people
is infinitely great, and exceeded by nothing but their poverty,
in some parts, which adds to that which I call their misery; and
I must needs think the savages of America live much more happy
than the poorer sort of these, because as they have nothing, so
they desire nothing; whereas these are proud and insolent and in
the main are in many parts mere beggars and drudges.&nbsp; Their
ostentation is inexpressible; and, if they can, they love to keep
multitudes of servants or slaves, which is to the last degree
ridiculous, as well as their contempt of all the world but
themselves.</p>
<p>I must confess I travelled more pleasantly afterwards in the
deserts and vast wildernesses of Grand Tartary than here, and yet
the roads here are well paved and well kept, and very convenient
for travellers; but nothing was more awkward to me than to see
such a haughty, imperious, insolent people, in the midst of the
grossest simplicity and ignorance; and my friend Father Simon and
I used to be very merry upon these occasions, to see their
beggarly pride.&nbsp; For example, coming by the house of a
country gentleman, as Father Simon called him, about ten leagues
off the city of Nankin, we had first of all the honour to ride
with the master of the house about two miles; the state he rode
in was a perfect Don Quixotism, being a mixture of pomp and
poverty.&nbsp; His habit was very proper for a merry-andrew,
being a dirty calico, with hanging sleeves, tassels, and cuts and
slashes almost on every side: it covered a taffety vest, so
greasy as to testify that his honour must be a most exquisite
sloven.&nbsp; His horse was a poor, starved, hobbling creature,
and two slaves followed him on foot to drive the poor creature
along; he had a whip in his hand, and he belaboured the beast as
fast about the head as his slaves did about the tail; and thus he
rode by us, with about ten or twelve servants, going from the
city to his country seat, about half a league before us.&nbsp; We
travelled on gently, but this figure of a gentleman rode away
before us; and as we stopped at a village about an hour to
refresh us, when we came by the country seat of this great man,
we saw him in a little place before his door, eating a
repast.&nbsp; It was a kind of garden, but he was easy to be
seen; and we were given to understand that the more we looked at
him the better he would be pleased.&nbsp; He sat under a tree,
something like the palmetto, which effectually shaded him over
the head, and on the south side; but under the tree was placed a
large umbrella, which made that part look well enough.&nbsp; He
sat lolling back in a great elbow-chair, being a heavy corpulent
man, and had his meat brought him by two women slaves.&nbsp; He
had two more, one of whom fed the squire with a spoon, and the
other held the dish with one hand, and scraped off what he let
fall upon his worship&rsquo;s beard and taffety vest.</p>
<p>Leaving the poor wretch to please himself with our looking at
him, as if we admired his idle pomp, we pursued our
journey.&nbsp; Father Simon had the curiosity to stay to inform
himself what dainties the country justice had to feed on in all
his state, which he had the honour to taste of, and which was, I
think, a mess of boiled rice, with a great piece of garlic in it,
and a little bag filled with green pepper, and another plant
which they have there, something like our ginger, but smelling
like musk, and tasting like mustard; all this was put together,
and a small piece of lean mutton boiled in it, and this was his
worship&rsquo;s repast.&nbsp; Four or five servants more attended
at a distance, who we supposed were to eat of the same after
their master.&nbsp; As for our mandarin with whom we travelled,
he was respected as a king, surrounded always with his gentlemen,
and attended in all his appearances with such pomp, that I saw
little of him but at a distance.&nbsp; I observed that there was
not a horse in his retinue but that our carrier&rsquo;s
packhorses in England seemed to me to look much better; though it
was hard to judge rightly, for they were so covered with
equipage, mantles, trappings, &amp;c., that we could scarce see
anything but their feet and their heads as they went along.</p>
<p>I was now light-hearted, and all my late trouble and
perplexity being over, I had no anxious thoughts about me, which
made this journey the pleasanter to me; in which no ill accident
attended me, only in passing or fording a small river, my horse
fell and made me free of the country, as they call it&mdash;that
is to say, threw me in.&nbsp; The place was not deep, but it
wetted me all over.&nbsp; I mention it because it spoiled my
pocket-book, wherein I had set down the names of several people
and places which I had occasion to remember, and which not taking
due care of, the leaves rotted, and the words were never after to
be read.</p>
<p>At length we arrived at Pekin.&nbsp; I had nobody with me but
the youth whom my nephew had given me to attend me as a servant
and who proved very trusty and diligent; and my partner had
nobody with him but one servant, who was a kinsman.&nbsp; As for
the Portuguese pilot, he being desirous to see the court, we bore
his charges for his company, and for our use of him as an
interpreter, for he understood the language of the country, and
spoke good French and a little English.&nbsp; Indeed, this old
man was most useful to us everywhere; for we had not been above a
week at Pekin, when he came laughing.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ah, Seignior
Inglese,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I have something to tell will
make your heart glad.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;My heart glad,&rdquo;
says I; &ldquo;what can that be?&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t know
anything in this country can either give me joy or grief to any
great degree.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; said the old
man, in broken English, &ldquo;make you glad, me
sorry.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;will it
make you sorry?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;you have brought me here twenty-five days&rsquo; journey,
and will leave me to go back alone; and which way shall I get to
my port afterwards, without a ship, without a horse, without
<i>pecune</i>?&rdquo; so he called money, being his broken Latin,
of which he had abundance to make us merry with.&nbsp; In short,
he told us there was a great caravan of Muscovite and Polish
merchants in the city, preparing to set out on their journey by
land to Muscovy, within four or five weeks; and he was sure we
would take the opportunity to go with them, and leave him behind,
to go back alone.</p>
<p>I confess I was greatly surprised with this good news, and had
scarce power to speak to him for some time; but at last I said to
him, &ldquo;How do you know this? are you sure it is
true?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;I met this
morning in the street an old acquaintance of mine, an Armenian,
who is among them.&nbsp; He came last from Astrakhan, and was
designed to go to Tonquin, where I formerly knew him, but has
altered his mind, and is now resolved to go with the caravan to
Moscow, and so down the river Volga to
Astrakhan.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well, Seignior,&rdquo; says I,
&ldquo;do not be uneasy about being left to go back alone; if
this be a method for my return to England, it shall be your fault
if you go back to Macao at all.&rdquo;&nbsp; We then went to
consult together what was to be done; and I asked my partner what
he thought of the pilot&rsquo;s news, and whether it would suit
with his affairs?&nbsp; He told me he would do just as I would;
for he had settled all his affairs so well at Bengal, and left
his effects in such good hands, that as we had made a good
voyage, if he could invest it in China silks, wrought and raw, he
would be content to go to England, and then make a voyage back to
Bengal by the Company&rsquo;s ships.</p>
<p>Having resolved upon this, we agreed that if our Portuguese
pilot would go with us, we would bear his charges to Moscow, or
to England, if he pleased; nor, indeed, were we to be esteemed
over-generous in that either, if we had not rewarded him further,
the service he had done us being really worth more than that; for
he had not only been a pilot to us at sea, but he had been like a
broker for us on shore; and his procuring for us a Japan merchant
was some hundreds of pounds in our pockets.&nbsp; So, being
willing to gratify him, which was but doing him justice, and very
willing also to have him with us besides, for he was a most
necessary man on all occasions, we agreed to give him a quantity
of coined gold, which, as I computed it, was worth one hundred
and seventy-five pounds sterling, between us, and to bear all his
charges, both for himself and horse, except only a horse to carry
his goods.&nbsp; Having settled this between ourselves, we called
him to let him know what we had resolved.&nbsp; I told him he had
complained of our being willing to let him go back alone, and I
was now about to tell him we designed he should not go back at
all.&nbsp; That as we had resolved to go to Europe with the
caravan, we were very willing he should go with us; and that we
called him to know his mind.&nbsp; He shook his head and said it
was a long journey, and that he had no <i>pecune</i> to carry him
thither, or to subsist himself when he came there.&nbsp; We told
him we believed it was so, and therefore we had resolved to do
something for him that should let him see how sensible we were of
the service he had done us, and also how agreeable he was to us:
and then I told him what we had resolved to give him here, which
he might lay out as we would do our own; and that as for his
charges, if he would go with us we would set him safe on shore
(life and casualties excepted), either in Muscovy or England, as
he would choose, at our own charge, except only the carriage of
his goods.&nbsp; He received the proposal like a man transported,
and told us he would go with us over all the whole world; and so
we all prepared for our journey.&nbsp; However, as it was with
us, so it was with the other merchants: they had many things to
do, and instead of being ready in five weeks, it was four months
and some days before all things were got together.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;ATTACKED BY TARTARS</h2>
<p>It was the beginning of February, new style, when we set out
from Pekin.&nbsp; My partner and the old pilot had gone express
back to the port where we had first put in, to dispose of some
goods which we had left there; and I, with a Chinese merchant
whom I had some knowledge of at Nankin, and who came to Pekin on
his own affairs, went to Nankin, where I bought ninety pieces of
fine damasks, with about two hundred pieces of other very fine
silk of several sorts, some mixed with gold, and had all these
brought to Pekin against my partner&rsquo;s return.&nbsp; Besides
this, we bought a large quantity of raw silk, and some other
goods, our cargo amounting, in these goods only, to about three
thousand five hundred pounds sterling; which, together with tea
and some fine calicoes, and three camels&rsquo; loads of nutmegs
and cloves, loaded in all eighteen camels for our share, besides
those we rode upon; these, with two or three spare horses, and
two horses loaded with provisions, made together twenty-six
camels and horses in our retinue.</p>
<p>The company was very great, and, as near as I can remember,
made between three and four hundred horses, and upwards of one
hundred and twenty men, very well armed and provided for all
events; for as the Eastern caravans are subject to be attacked by
the Arabs, so are these by the Tartars.&nbsp; The company
consisted of people of several nations, but there were above
sixty of them merchants or inhabitants of Moscow, though of them
some were Livonians; and to our particular satisfaction, five of
them were Scots, who appeared also to be men of great experience
in business, and of very good substance.</p>
<p>When we had travelled one day&rsquo;s journey, the guides, who
were five in number, called all the passengers, except the
servants, to a great council, as they called it.&nbsp; At this
council every one deposited a certain quantity of money to a
common stock, for the necessary expense of buying forage on the
way, where it was not otherwise to be had, and for satisfying the
guides, getting horses, and the like.&nbsp; Here, too, they
constituted the journey, as they call it, viz. they named
captains and officers to draw us all up, and give the word of
command, in case of an attack, and give every one their turn of
command; nor was this forming us into order any more than what we
afterwards found needful on the way.</p>
<p>The road all on this side of the country is very populous, and
is full of potters and earth-makers&mdash;that is to say, people,
that temper the earth for the China ware.&nbsp; As I was coming
along, our Portuguese pilot, who had always something or other to
say to make us merry, told me he would show me the greatest
rarity in all the country, and that I should have this to say of
China, after all the ill-humoured things that I had said of it,
that I had seen one thing which was not to be seen in all the
world beside.&nbsp; I was very importunate to know what it was;
at last he told me it was a gentleman&rsquo;s house built with
China ware.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;are not the
materials of their buildings the products of their own country,
and so it is all China ware, is it not?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,
no,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I mean it is a house all made of China
ware, such as you call it in England, or as it is called in our
country, porcelain.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says I,
&ldquo;such a thing may be; how big is it?&nbsp; Can we carry it
in a box upon a camel?&nbsp; If we can we will buy
it.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Upon a camel!&rdquo; says the old pilot,
holding up both his hands; &ldquo;why, there is a family of
thirty people lives in it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was then curious, indeed, to see it; and when I came to it,
it was nothing but this: it was a timber house, or a house built,
as we call it in England, with lath and plaster, but all this
plastering was really China ware&mdash;that is to say, it was
plastered with the earth that makes China ware.&nbsp; The
outside, which the sun shone hot upon, was glazed, and looked
very well, perfectly white, and painted with blue figures, as the
large China ware in England is painted, and hard as if it had
been burnt.&nbsp; As to the inside, all the walls, instead of
wainscot, were lined with hardened and painted tiles, like the
little square tiles we call galley-tiles in England, all made of
the finest china, and the figures exceeding fine indeed, with
extraordinary variety of colours, mixed with gold, many tiles
making but one figure, but joined so artificially, the mortar
being made of the same earth, that it was very hard to see where
the tiles met.&nbsp; The floors of the rooms were of the same
composition, and as hard as the earthen floors we have in use in
several parts of England; as hard as stone, and smooth, but not
burnt and painted, except some smaller rooms, like closets, which
were all, as it were, paved with the same tile; the ceiling and
all the plastering work in the whole house were of the same
earth; and, after all, the roof was covered with tiles of the
same, but of a deep shining black.&nbsp; This was a China
warehouse indeed, truly and literally to be called so, and had I
not been upon the journey, I could have stayed some days to see
and examine the particulars of it.&nbsp; They told me there were
fountains and fishponds in the garden, all paved on the bottom
and sides with the same; and fine statues set up in rows on the
walks, entirely formed of the porcelain earth, burnt whole.</p>
<p>As this is one of the singularities of China, so they may be
allowed to excel in it; but I am very sure they excel in their
accounts of it; for they told me such incredible things of their
performance in crockery-ware, for such it is, that I care not to
relate, as knowing it could not be true.&nbsp; They told me, in
particular, of one workman that made a ship with all its tackle
and masts and sails in earthenware, big enough to carry fifty
men.&nbsp; If they had told me he launched it, and made a voyage
to Japan in it, I might have said something to it indeed; but as
it was, I knew the whole of the story, which was, in short, that
the fellow lied: so I smiled, and said nothing to it.&nbsp; This
odd sight kept me two hours behind the caravan, for which the
leader of it for the day fined me about the value of three
shillings; and told me if it had been three days&rsquo; journey
without the wall, as it was three days&rsquo; within, he must
have fined me four times as much, and made me ask pardon the next
council-day.&nbsp; I promised to be more orderly; and, indeed, I
found afterwards the orders made for keeping all together were
absolutely necessary for our common safety.</p>
<p>In two days more we passed the great China wall, made for a
fortification against the Tartars: and a very great work it is,
going over hills and mountains in an endless track, where the
rocks are impassable, and the precipices such as no enemy could
possibly enter, or indeed climb up, or where, if they did, no
wall could hinder them.&nbsp; They tell us its length is near a
thousand English miles, but that the country is five hundred in a
straight measured line, which the wall bounds without measuring
the windings and turnings it takes; it is about four fathoms
high, and as many thick in some places.</p>
<p>I stood still an hour or thereabouts without trespassing on
our orders (for so long the caravan was in passing the gate), to
look at it on every side, near and far off; I mean what was
within my view: and the guide, who had been extolling it for the
wonder of the world, was mighty eager to hear my opinion of
it.&nbsp; I told him it was a most excellent thing to keep out
the Tartars; which he happened not to understand as I meant it
and so took it for a compliment; but the old pilot laughed!&nbsp;
&ldquo;Oh, Seignior Inglese,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;you speak in
colours.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;In colours!&rdquo; said I;
&ldquo;what do you mean by that?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, you
speak what looks white this way and black that way&mdash;gay one
way and dull another.&nbsp; You tell him it is a good wall to
keep out Tartars; you tell me by that it is good for nothing but
to keep out Tartars.&nbsp; I understand you, Seignior Inglese, I
understand you; but Seignior Chinese understood you his own
way.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;do you think
it would stand out an army of our country people, with a good
train of artillery; or our engineers, with two companies of
miners?&nbsp; Would not they batter it down in ten days, that an
army might enter in battalia; or blow it up in the air,
foundation and all, that there should be no sign of it
left?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;I know
that.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Chinese wanted mightily to know what I
said to the pilot, and I gave him leave to tell him a few days
after, for we were then almost out of their country, and he was
to leave us a little time after this; but when he knew what I
said, he was dumb all the rest of the way, and we heard no more
of his fine story of the Chinese power and greatness while he
stayed.</p>
<p>After we passed this mighty nothing, called a wall, something
like the Picts&rsquo; walls so famous in Northumberland, built by
the Romans, we began to find the country thinly inhabited, and
the people rather confined to live in fortified towns, as being
subject to the inroads and depredations of the Tartars, who rob
in great armies, and therefore are not to be resisted by the
naked inhabitants of an open country.&nbsp; And here I began to
find the necessity of keeping together in a caravan as we
travelled, for we saw several troops of Tartars roving about; but
when I came to see them distinctly, I wondered more that the
Chinese empire could be conquered by such contemptible fellows;
for they are a mere horde of wild fellows, keeping no order and
understanding no discipline or manner of it.&nbsp; Their horses
are poor lean creatures, taught nothing, and fit for nothing; and
this we found the first day we saw them, which was after we
entered the wilder part of the country.&nbsp; Our leader for the
day gave leave for about sixteen of us to go a hunting as they
call it; and what was this but a hunting of sheep!&mdash;however,
it may be called hunting too, for these creatures are the wildest
and swiftest of foot that ever I saw of their kind! only they
will not run a great way, and you are sure of sport when you
begin the chase, for they appear generally thirty or forty in a
flock, and, like true sheep, always keep together when they
fly.</p>
<p>In pursuit of this odd sort of game it was our hap to meet
with about forty Tartars: whether they were hunting mutton, as we
were, or whether they looked for another kind of prey, we know
not; but as soon as they saw us, one of them blew a hideous blast
on a kind of horn.&nbsp; This was to call their friends about
them, and in less than ten minutes a troop of forty or fifty more
appeared, at about a mile distance; but our work was over first,
as it happened.</p>
<p>One of the Scots merchants of Moscow happened to be amongst
us; and as soon as he heard the horn, he told us that we had
nothing to do but to charge them without loss of time; and
drawing us up in a line, he asked if we were resolved.&nbsp; We
told him we were ready to follow him; so he rode directly towards
them.&nbsp; They stood gazing at us like a mere crowd, drawn up
in no sort of order at all; but as soon as they saw us advance,
they let fly their arrows, which missed us, very happily.&nbsp;
Not that they mistook their aim, but their distance; for their
arrows all fell a little short of us, but with so true an aim,
that had we been about twenty yards nearer we must have had
several men wounded, if not killed.</p>
<p>Immediately we halted, and though it was at a great distance,
we fired, and sent them leaden bullets for wooden arrows,
following our shot full gallop, to fall in among them sword in
hand&mdash;for so our bold Scot that led us directed.&nbsp; He
was, indeed, but a merchant, but he behaved with such vigour and
bravery on this occasion, and yet with such cool courage too,
that I never saw any man in action fitter for command.&nbsp; As
soon as we came up to them we fired our pistols in their faces
and then drew; but they fled in the greatest confusion
imaginable.&nbsp; The only stand any of them made was on our
right, where three of them stood, and, by signs, called the rest
to come back to them, having a kind of scimitar in their hands,
and their bows hanging to their backs.&nbsp; Our brave commander,
without asking anybody to follow him, gallops up close to them,
and with his fusee knocks one of them off his horse, killed the
second with his pistol, and the third ran away.&nbsp; Thus ended
our fight; but we had this misfortune attending it, that all our
mutton we had in chase got away.&nbsp; We had not a man killed or
hurt; as for the Tartars, there were about five of them
killed&mdash;how many were wounded we knew not; but this we knew,
that the other party were so frightened with the noise of our
guns that they fled, and never made any attempt upon us.</p>
<p>We were all this while in the Chinese dominions, and therefore
the Tartars were not so bold as afterwards; but in about five
days we entered a vast wild desert, which held us three
days&rsquo; and nights&rsquo; march; and we were obliged to carry
our water with us in great leathern bottles, and to encamp all
night, just as I have heard they do in the desert of
Arabia.&nbsp; I asked our guides whose dominion this was in, and
they told me this was a kind of border that might be called no
man&rsquo;s land, being a part of Great Karakathy, or Grand
Tartary: that, however, it was all reckoned as belonging to
China, but that there was no care taken here to preserve it from
the inroads of thieves, and therefore it was reckoned the worst
desert in the whole march, though we were to go over some much
larger.</p>
<p>In passing this frightful wilderness we saw, two or three
times, little parties of the Tartars, but they seemed to be upon
their own affairs, and to have no design upon us; and so, like
the man who met the devil, if they had nothing to say to us, we
had nothing to say to them: we let them go.&nbsp; Once, however,
a party of them came so near as to stand and gaze at us.&nbsp;
Whether it was to consider if they should attack us or not, we
knew not; but when we had passed at some distance by them, we
made a rear-guard of forty men, and stood ready for them, letting
the caravan pass half a mile or thereabouts before us.&nbsp;
After a while they marched off, but they saluted us with five
arrows at their parting, which wounded a horse so that it
disabled him, and we left him the next day, poor creature, in
great need of a good farrier.&nbsp; We saw no more arrows or
Tartars that time.</p>
<p>We travelled near a month after this, the ways not being so
good as at first, though still in the dominions of the Emperor of
China, but lay for the most part in the villages, some of which
were fortified, because of the incursions of the Tartars.&nbsp;
When we were come to one of these towns (about two days and a
half&rsquo;s journey before we came to the city of Naum), I
wanted to buy a camel, of which there are plenty to be sold all
the way upon that road, and horses also, such as they are,
because, so many caravans coming that way, they are often
wanted.&nbsp; The person that I spoke to to get me a camel would
have gone and fetched one for me; but I, like a fool, must be
officious, and go myself along with him; the place was about two
miles out of the village, where it seems they kept the camels and
horses feeding under a guard.</p>
<p>I walked it on foot, with my old pilot and a Chinese, being
very desirous of a little variety.&nbsp; When we came to the
place it was a low, marshy ground, walled round with stones,
piled up dry, without mortar or earth among them, like a park,
with a little guard of Chinese soldiers at the door.&nbsp; Having
bought a camel, and agreed for the price, I came away, and the
Chinese that went with me led the camel, when on a sudden came up
five Tartars on horseback.&nbsp; Two of them seized the fellow
and took the camel from him, while the other three stepped up to
me and my old pilot, seeing us, as it were, unarmed, for I had no
weapon about me but my sword, which could but ill defend me
against three horsemen.&nbsp; The first that came up stopped
short upon my drawing my sword, for they are arrant cowards; but
a second, coming upon my left, gave me a blow on the head, which
I never felt till afterwards, and wondered, when I came to
myself, what was the matter, and where I was, for he laid me flat
on the ground; but my never-failing old pilot, the Portuguese,
had a pistol in his pocket, which I knew nothing of, nor the
Tartars either: if they had, I suppose they would not have
attacked us, for cowards are always boldest when there is no
danger.&nbsp; The old man seeing me down, with a bold heart
stepped up to the fellow that had struck me, and laying hold of
his arm with one hand, and pulling him down by main force a
little towards him, with the other shot him into the head, and
laid him dead upon the spot.&nbsp; He then immediately stepped up
to him who had stopped us, as I said, and before he could come
forward again, made a blow at him with a scimitar, which he
always wore, but missing the man, struck his horse in the side of
his head, cut one of the ears off by the root, and a great slice
down by the side of his face.&nbsp; The poor beast, enraged with
the wound, was no more to be governed by his rider, though the
fellow sat well enough too, but away he flew, and carried him
quite out of the pilot&rsquo;s reach; and at some distance,
rising upon his hind legs, threw down the Tartar, and fell upon
him.</p>
<p>In this interval the poor Chinese came in who had lost the
camel, but he had no weapon; however, seeing the Tartar down, and
his horse fallen upon him, away he runs to him, and seizing upon
an ugly weapon he had by his side, something like a pole-axe, he
wrenched it from him, and made shift to knock his Tartarian
brains out with it.&nbsp; But my old man had the third Tartar to
deal with still; and seeing he did not fly, as he expected, nor
come on to fight him, as he apprehended, but stood stock still,
the old man stood still too, and fell to work with his tackle to
charge his pistol again: but as soon as the Tartar saw the pistol
away he scoured, and left my pilot, my champion I called him
afterwards, a complete victory.</p>
<p>By this time I was a little recovered.&nbsp; I thought, when I
first began to wake, that I had been in a sweet sleep; but, as I
said above, I wondered where I was, how I came upon the ground,
and what was the matter.&nbsp; A few moments after, as sense
returned, I felt pain, though I did not know where; so I clapped
my hand to my head, and took it away bloody; then I felt my head
ache: and in a moment memory returned, and everything was present
to me again.&nbsp; I jumped upon my feet instantly, and got hold
of my sword, but no enemies were in view: I found a Tartar lying
dead, and his horse standing very quietly by him; and, looking
further, I saw my deliverer, who had been to see what the Chinese
had done, coming back with his hanger in his hand.&nbsp; The old
man, seeing me on my feet, came running to me, and joyfully
embraced me, being afraid before that I had been killed.&nbsp;
Seeing me bloody, he would see how I was hurt; but it was not
much, only what we call a broken head; neither did I afterwards
find any great inconvenience from the blow, for it was well again
in two or three days.</p>
<p>We made no great gain, however, by this victory, for we lost a
camel and gained a horse.&nbsp; I paid for the lost camel, and
sent for another; but I did not go to fetch it myself: I had had
enough of that.</p>
<p>The city of Naum, which we were approaching, is a frontier of
the Chinese empire, and is fortified in their fashion.&nbsp; We
wanted, as I have said, above two days&rsquo; journey of this
city when messengers were sent express to every part of the road
to tell all travellers and caravans to halt till they had a guard
sent for them; for that an unusual body of Tartars, making ten
thousand in all, had appeared in the way, about thirty miles
beyond the city.</p>
<p>This was very bad news to travellers: however, it was
carefully done of the governor, and we were very glad to hear we
should have a guard.&nbsp; Accordingly, two days after, we had
two hundred soldiers sent us from a garrison of the Chinese on
our left, and three hundred more from the city of Naum, and with
these we advanced boldly.&nbsp; The three hundred soldiers from
Naum marched in our front, the two hundred in our rear, and our
men on each side of our camels, with our baggage and the whole
caravan in the centre; in this order, and well prepared for
battle, we thought ourselves a match for the whole ten thousand
Mogul Tartars, if they had appeared; but the next day, when they
did appear, it was quite another thing.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XV&mdash;DESCRIPTION OF AN IDOL, WHICH THEY
DESTROY</h2>
<p>Early in the morning, when marching from a little town called
Changu, we had a river to pass, which we were obliged to ferry;
and, had the Tartars had any intelligence, then had been the time
to have attacked us, when the caravan being over, the rear-guard
was behind; but they did not appear there.&nbsp; About three
hours after, when we were entered upon a desert of about fifteen
or sixteen miles over, we knew by a cloud of dust they raised,
that the enemy was at hand, and presently they came on upon the
spur.</p>
<p>Our Chinese guards in the front, who had talked so big the day
before, began to stagger; and the soldiers frequently looked
behind them, a certain sign in a soldier that he is just ready to
run away.&nbsp; My old pilot was of my mind; and being near me,
called out, &ldquo;Seignior Inglese, these fellows must be
encouraged, or they will ruin us all; for if the Tartars come on
they will never stand it.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;If am of your
mind,&rdquo; said I; &ldquo;but what must be
done?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Done?&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;let fifty
of our men advance, and flank them on each wing, and encourage
them.&nbsp; They will fight like brave fellows in brave company;
but without this they will every man turn his back.&rdquo;&nbsp;
Immediately I rode up to our leader and told him, who was exactly
of our mind; accordingly, fifty of us marched to the right wing,
and fifty to the left, and the rest made a line of rescue; and so
we marched, leaving the last two hundred men to make a body of
themselves, and to guard the camels; only that, if need were,
they should send a hundred men to assist the last fifty.</p>
<p>At last the Tartars came on, and an innumerable company they
were; how many we could not tell, but ten thousand, we thought,
at the least.&nbsp; A party of them came on first, and viewed our
posture, traversing the ground in the front of our line; and, as
we found them within gunshot, our leader ordered the two wings to
advance swiftly, and give them a salvo on each wing with their
shot, which was done.&nbsp; They then went off, I suppose to give
an account of the reception they were like to meet with; indeed,
that salute cloyed their stomachs, for they immediately halted,
stood a while to consider of it, and wheeling off to the left,
they gave over their design for that time, which was very
agreeable to our circumstances.</p>
<p>Two days after we came to the city of Naun, or Naum; we
thanked the governor for his care of us, and collected to the
value of a hundred crowns, or thereabouts, which we gave to the
soldiers sent to guard us; and here we rested one day.&nbsp; This
is a garrison indeed, and there were nine hundred soldiers kept
here; but the reason of it was, that formerly the Muscovite
frontiers lay nearer to them than they now do, the Muscovites
having abandoned that part of the country, which lies from this
city west for about two hundred miles, as desolate and unfit for
use; and more especially being so very remote, and so difficult
to send troops thither for its defence; for we were yet above two
thousand miles from Muscovy properly so called.&nbsp; After this
we passed several great rivers, and two dreadful deserts; one of
which we were sixteen days passing over; and on the 13th of April
we came to the frontiers of the Muscovite dominions.&nbsp; I
think the first town or fortress, whichever it may he called,
that belonged to the Czar, was called Arguna, being on the west
side of the river Arguna.</p>
<p>I could not but feel great satisfaction that I was arrived in
a country governed by Christians; for though the Muscovites do,
in my opinion, but just deserve the name of Christians, yet such
they pretend to be, and are very devout in their way.&nbsp; It
would certainly occur to any reflecting man who travels the world
as I have done, what a blessing it is to be brought into the
world where the name of God and a Redeemer is known, adored, and
worshipped; and not where the people, given up to strong
delusions, worship the devil, and prostrate themselves to
monsters, elements, horrid-shaped animals, and monstrous
images.&nbsp; Not a town or city we passed through but had their
pagodas, their idols, and their temples, and ignorant people
worshipping even the works of their own hands.&nbsp; Now we came
where, at least, a face of the Christian worship appeared; where
the knee was bowed to Jesus: and whether ignorantly or not, yet
the Christian religion was owned, and the name of the true God
was called upon and adored; and it made my soul rejoice to see
it.&nbsp; I saluted the brave Scots merchant with my first
acknowledgment of this; and taking him by the hand, I said to
him, &ldquo;Blessed be God, we are once again amongst
Christians.&rdquo;&nbsp; He smiled, and answered, &ldquo;Do not
rejoice too soon, countryman; these Muscovites are but an odd
sort of Christians; and but for the name of it you may see very
little of the substance for some months further of our
journey.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;but
still it is better than paganism, and worshipping of
devils.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, I will tell you,&rdquo; says he;
&ldquo;except the Russian soldiers in the garrisons, and a few of
the inhabitants of the cities upon the road, all the rest of this
country, for above a thousand miles farther, is inhabited by the
worst and most ignorant of pagans.&rdquo;&nbsp; And so, indeed,
we found it.</p>
<p>We now launched into the greatest piece of solid earth that is
to be found in any part of the world; we had, at least, twelve
thousand miles to the sea eastward; two thousand to the bottom of
the Baltic Sea westward; and above three thousand, if we left
that sea, and went on west, to the British and French channels:
we had full five thousand miles to the Indian or Persian Sea
south; and about eight hundred to the Frozen Sea north.</p>
<p>We advanced from the river Arguna by easy and moderate
journeys, and were very visibly obliged to the care the Czar has
taken to have cities and towns built in as many places as it is
possible to place them, where his soldiers keep garrison,
something like the stationary soldiers placed by the Romans in
the remotest countries of their empire; some of which I had read
of were placed in Britain, for the security of commerce, and for
the lodging of travellers.&nbsp; Thus it was here; for wherever
we came, though at these towns and stations the garrisons and
governors were Russians, and professed Christians, yet the
inhabitants were mere pagans, sacrificing to idols, and
worshipping the sun, moon, and stars, or all the host of heaven;
and not only so, but were, of all the heathens and pagans that
ever I met with, the most barbarous, except only that they did
not eat men&rsquo;s flesh.</p>
<p>Some instances of this we met with in the country between
Arguna, where we enter the Muscovite dominions, and a city of
Tartars and Russians together, called Nortziousky, in which is a
continued desert or forest, which cost us twenty days to travel
over.&nbsp; In a village near the last of these places I had the
curiosity to go and see their way of living, which is most
brutish and unsufferable.&nbsp; They had, I suppose, a great
sacrifice that day; for there stood out, upon an old stump of a
tree, a diabolical kind of idol made of wood; it was dressed up,
too, in the most filthy manner; its upper garment was of
sheepskins, with the wool outward; a great Tartar bonnet on the
head, with two horns growing through it; it was about eight feet
high, yet had no feet or legs, nor any other proportion of
parts.</p>
<p>This scarecrow was set up at the outer side of the village;
and when I came near to it there were sixteen or seventeen
creatures all lying flat upon the ground round this hideous block
of wood; I saw no motion among them, any more than if they had
been all logs, like the idol, and at first I really thought they
had been so; but, when I came a little nearer, they started up
upon their feet, and raised a howl, as if it had been so many
deep-mouthed hounds, and walked away, as if they were displeased
at our disturbing them.&nbsp; A little way off from the idol, and
at the door of a hut, made of sheep and cow skins dried, stood
three men with long knives in their hands; and in the middle of
the tent appeared three sheep killed, and one young
bullock.&nbsp; These, it seems, were sacrifices to that senseless
log of an idol; the three men were priests belonging to it, and
the seventeen prostrated wretches were the people who brought the
offering, and were offering their prayers to that stock.</p>
<p>I confess I was more moved at their stupidity and brutish
worship of a hobgoblin than ever I was at anything in my life,
and, overcome with rage, I rode up to the hideous idol, and with
my sword made a stroke at the bonnet that was on its head, and
cut it in two; and one of our men that was with me, taking hold
of the sheepskin that covered it, pulled at it, when, behold, a
most hideous outcry ran through the village, and two or three
hundred people came about my ears, so that I was glad to scour
for it, for some had bows and arrows; but I resolved from that
moment to visit them again.&nbsp; Our caravan rested three nights
at the town, which was about four miles off, in order to provide
some horses which they wanted, several of the horses having been
lamed and jaded with the long march over the last desert; so we
had some leisure here to put my design in execution.&nbsp; I
communicated it to the Scots merchant, of whose courage I had
sufficient testimony; I told him what I had seen, and with what
indignation I had since thought that human nature could be so
degenerate; I told him if I could get but four or five men well
armed to go with me, I was resolved to go and destroy that vile,
abominable idol, and let them see that it had no power to help
itself, and consequently could not be an object of worship, or to
be prayed to, much less help them that offered sacrifices to
it.</p>
<p>He at first objected to my plan as useless, seeing that, owing
to the gross ignorance of the people, they could not be brought
to profit by the lesson I meant to teach them; and added that,
from his knowledge of the country and its customs, he feared we
should fall into great peril by giving offence to these brutal
idol worshippers.&nbsp; This somewhat stayed my purpose, but I
was still uneasy all that day to put my project in execution; and
that evening, meeting the Scots merchant in our walk about the
town, I again called upon him to aid me in it.&nbsp; When he
found me resolute he said that, on further thoughts, he could not
but applaud the design, and told me I should not go alone, but he
would go with me; but he would go first and bring a stout fellow,
one of his countrymen, to go also with us; &ldquo;and one,&rdquo;
said he, &ldquo;as famous for his zeal as you can desire any one
to be against such devilish things as these.&rdquo;&nbsp; So we
agreed to go, only we three and my man-servant, and resolved to
put it in execution the following night about midnight, with all
possible secrecy.</p>
<p>We thought it better to delay it till the next night, because
the caravan being to set forward in the morning, we suppose the
governor could not pretend to give them any satisfaction upon us
when we were out of his power.&nbsp; The Scots merchant, as
steady in his resolution for the enterprise as bold in executing,
brought me a Tartar&rsquo;s robe or gown of sheepskins, and a
bonnet, with a bow and arrows, and had provided the same for
himself and his countryman, that the people, if they saw us,
should not determine who we were.&nbsp; All the first night we
spent in mixing up some combustible matter, with aqua vitae,
gunpowder, and such other materials as we could get; and having a
good quantity of tar in a little pot, about an hour after night
we set out upon our expedition.</p>
<p>We came to the place about eleven o&rsquo;clock at night, and
found that the people had not the least suspicion of danger
attending their idol.&nbsp; The night was cloudy: yet the moon
gave us light enough to see that the idol stood just in the same
posture and place that it did before.&nbsp; The people seemed to
be all at their rest; only that in the great hut, where we saw
the three priests, we saw a light, and going up close to the
door, we heard people talking as if there were five or six of
them; we concluded, therefore, that if we set wildfire to the
idol, those men would come out immediately, and run up to the
place to rescue it from destruction; and what to do with them we
knew not.&nbsp; Once we thought of carrying it away, and setting
fire to it at a distance; but when we came to handle it, we found
it too bulky for our carriage, so we were at a loss again.&nbsp;
The second Scotsman was for setting fire to the hut, and knocking
the creatures that were there on the head when they came out; but
I could not join with that; I was against killing them, if it
were possible to avoid it.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said
the Scots merchant, &ldquo;I will tell you what we will do: we
will try to make them prisoners, tie their hands, and make them
stand and see their idol destroyed.&rdquo;</p>
<p>As it happened, we had twine or packthread enough about us,
which we used to tie our firelocks together with; so we resolved
to attack these people first, and with as little noise as we
could.&nbsp; The first thing we did, we knocked at the door, when
one of the priests coming to it, we immediately seized upon him,
stopped his mouth, and tied his hands behind him, and led him to
the idol, where we gagged him that he might not make a noise,
tied his feet also together, and left him on the ground.</p>
<p>Two of us then waited at the door, expecting that another
would come out to see what the matter was; but we waited so long
till the third man came back to us; and then nobody coming out,
we knocked again gently, and immediately out came two more, and
we served them just in the same manner, but were obliged to go
all with them, and lay them down by the idol some distance from
one another; when, going back, we found two more were come out of
the door, and a third stood behind them within the door.&nbsp; We
seized the two, and immediately tied them, when the third,
stepping back and crying out, my Scots merchant went in after
them, and taking out a composition we had made that would only
smoke and stink, he set fire to it, and threw it in among
them.&nbsp; By that time the other Scotsman and my man, taking
charge of the two men already bound, and tied together also by
the arm, led them away to the idol, and left them there, to see
if their idol would relieve them, making haste back to us.</p>
<p>When the fuze we had thrown in had filled the hut with so much
smoke that they were almost suffocated, we threw in a small
leather bag of another kind, which flamed like a candle, and,
following it in, we found there were but four people, who, as we
supposed, had been about some of their diabolical
sacrifices.&nbsp; They appeared, in short, frightened to death,
at least so as to sit trembling and stupid, and not able to speak
either, for the smoke.</p>
<p>We quickly took them from the hut, where the smoke soon drove
us out, bound them as we had done the other, and all without any
noise.&nbsp; Then we carried them all together to the idol; when
we came there, we fell to work with him.&nbsp; First, we daubed
him all over, and his robes also, with tar, and tallow mixed with
brimstone; then we stopped his eyes and ears and mouth full of
gunpowder, and wrapped up a great piece of wildfire in his
bonnet; then sticking all the combustibles we had brought with us
upon him, we looked about to see if we could find anything else
to help to burn him; when my Scotsman remembered that by the hut,
where the men were, there lay a heap of dry forage; away he and
the other Scotsman ran and fetched their arms full of that.&nbsp;
When we had done this, we took all our prisoners, and brought
them, having untied their feet and ungagged their mouths, and
made them stand up, and set them before their monstrous idol, and
then set fire to the whole.</p>
<p>We stayed by it a quarter of an hour or thereabouts, till the
powder in the eyes and mouth and ears of the idol blew up, and,
as we could perceive, had split altogether; and in a word, till
we saw it burned so that it would soon be quite consumed.&nbsp;
We then began to think of going away; but the Scotsman said,
&ldquo;No, we must not go, for these poor deluded wretches will
all throw themselves into the fire, and burn themselves with the
idol.&rdquo;&nbsp; So we resolved to stay till the forage has
burned down too, and then came away and left them.&nbsp; After
the feat was performed, we appeared in the morning among our
fellow-travellers, exceedingly busy in getting ready for our
journey; nor could any man suppose that we had been anywhere but
in our beds.</p>
<p>But the affair did not end so; the next day came a great
number of the country people to the town gates, and in a most
outrageous manner demanded satisfaction of the Russian governor
for the insulting their priests and burning their great Cham
Chi-Thaungu.&nbsp; The people of Nertsinkay were at first in a
great consternation, for they said the Tartars were already no
less than thirty thousand strong.&nbsp; The Russian governor sent
out messengers to appease them, assuring them that he knew
nothing of it, and that there had not a soul in his garrison been
abroad, so that it could not be from anybody there: but if they
could let him know who did it, they should be exemplarily
punished.&nbsp; They returned haughtily, that all the country
reverenced the great Cham Chi-Thaungu, who dwelt in the sun, and
no mortal would have dared to offer violence to his image but
some Christian miscreant; and they therefore resolved to denounce
war against him and all the Russians, who, they said, were
miscreants and Christians.</p>
<p>The governor, unwilling to make a breach, or to have any cause
of war alleged to be given by him, the Czar having strictly
charged him to treat the conquered country with gentleness, gave
them all the good words he could.&nbsp; At last he told them
there was a caravan gone towards Russia that morning, and perhaps
it was some of them who had done them this injury; and that if
they would be satisfied with that, he would send after them to
inquire into it.&nbsp; This seemed to appease them a little; and
accordingly the governor sent after us, and gave us a particular
account how the thing was; intimating withal, that if any in our
caravan had done it they should make their escape; but that
whether we had done it or no, we should make all the haste
forward that was possible: and that, in the meantime, he would
keep them in play as long as he could.</p>
<p>This was very friendly in the governor; however, when it came
to the caravan, there was nobody knew anything of the matter; and
as for us that were guilty, we were least of all suspected.&nbsp;
However, the captain of the caravan for the time took the hint
that the governor gave us, and we travelled two days and two
nights without any considerable stop, and then we lay at a
village called Plothus: nor did we make any long stop here, but
hastened on towards Jarawena, another Muscovite colony, and where
we expected we should be safe.&nbsp; But upon the second
day&rsquo;s march from Plothus, by the clouds of dust behind us
at a great distance, it was plain we were pursued.&nbsp; We had
entered a vast desert, and had passed by a great lake called
Schanks Oser, when we perceived a large body of horse appear on
the other side of the lake, to the north, we travelling
west.&nbsp; We observed they went away west, as we did, but had
supposed we would have taken that side of the lake, whereas we
very happily took the south side; and in two days more they
disappeared again: for they, believing we were still before them,
pushed on till they came to the Udda, a very great river when it
passes farther north, but when we came to it we found it narrow
and fordable.</p>
<p>The third day they had either found their mistake, or had
intelligence of us, and came pouring in upon us towards
dusk.&nbsp; We had, to our great satisfaction, just pitched upon
a convenient place for our camp; for as we had just entered upon
a desert above five hundred miles over, where we had no towns to
lodge at, and, indeed, expected none but the city Jarawena, which
we had yet two days&rsquo; march to; the desert, however, had
some few woods in it on this side, and little rivers, which ran
all into the great river Udda; it was in a narrow strait, between
little but very thick woods, that we pitched our camp that night,
expecting to be attacked before morning.&nbsp; As it was usual
for the Mogul Tartars to go about in troops in that desert, so
the caravans always fortify themselves every night against them,
as against armies of robbers; and it was, therefore, no new thing
to be pursued.&nbsp; But we had this night a most advantageous
camp: for as we lay between two woods, with a little rivulet
running just before our front, we could not be surrounded, or
attacked any way but in our front or rear.&nbsp; We took care
also to make our front as strong as we could, by placing our
packs, with the camels and horses, all in a line, on the inside
of the river, and felling some trees in our rear.</p>
<p>In this posture we encamped for the night; but the enemy was
upon us before we had finished.&nbsp; They did not come on like
thieves, as we expected, but sent three messengers to us, to
demand the men to be delivered to them that had abused their
priests and burned their idol, that they might burn them with
fire; and upon this, they said, they would go away, and do us no
further harm, otherwise they would destroy us all.&nbsp; Our men
looked very blank at this message, and began to stare at one
another to see who looked with the most guilt in their faces; but
nobody was the word&mdash;nobody did it.&nbsp; The leader of the
caravan sent word he was well assured that it was not done by any
of our camp; that we were peaceful merchants, travelling on our
business; that we had done no harm to them or to any one else;
and that, therefore, they must look further for the enemies who
had injured them, for we were not the people; so they desired
them not to disturb us, for if they did we should defend
ourselves.</p>
<p>They were far from being satisfied with this for an answer:
and a great crowd of them came running down in the morning, by
break of day, to our camp; but seeing us so well posted, they
durst come no farther than the brook in our front, where they
stood in such number as to terrify us very much; indeed, some
spoke of ten thousand.&nbsp; Here they stood and looked at us a
while, and then, setting up a great howl, let fly a crowd of
arrows among us; but we were well enough sheltered under our
baggage, and I do not remember that one of us was hurt.</p>
<p>Some time after this we saw them move a little to our right,
and expected them on the rear: when a cunning fellow, a Cossack
of Jarawena, calling to the leader of the caravan, said to him,
&ldquo;I will send all these people away to
Sibeilka.&rdquo;&nbsp; This was a city four or five days&rsquo;
journey at least to the right, and rather behind us.&nbsp; So he
takes his bow and arrows, and getting on horseback, he rides away
from our rear directly, as it were back to Nertsinskay; after
this he takes a great circuit about, and comes directly on the
army of the Tartars as if he had been sent express to tell them a
long story that the people who had burned the Cham Chi-Thaungu
were gone to Sibeilka, with a caravan of miscreants, as he called
them&mdash;that is to say, Christians; and that they had resolved
to burn the god Scal-Isar, belonging to the Tonguses.&nbsp; As
this fellow was himself a Tartar, and perfectly spoke their
language, he counterfeited so well that they all believed him,
and away they drove in a violent hurry to Sibeilka.&nbsp; In less
than three hours they were entirely out of our sight, and we
never heard any more of them, nor whether they went to Sibeilka
or no.&nbsp; So we passed away safely on to Jarawena, where there
was a Russian garrison, and there we rested five days.</p>
<p>From this city we had a frightful desert, which held us
twenty-three days&rsquo; march.&nbsp; We furnished ourselves with
some tents here, for the better accommodating ourselves in the
night; and the leader of the caravan procured sixteen waggons of
the country, for carrying our water or provisions, and these
carriages were our defence every night round our little camp; so
that had the Tartars appeared, unless they had been very numerous
indeed, they would not have been able to hurt us.&nbsp; We may
well be supposed to have wanted rest again after this long
journey; for in this desert we neither saw house nor tree, and
scarce a bush; though we saw abundance of the sable-hunters, who
are all Tartars of Mogul Tartary; of which this country is a
part; and they frequently attack small caravans, but we saw no
numbers of them together.</p>
<p>After we had passed this desert we came into a country pretty
well inhabited&mdash;that is to say, we found towns and castles,
settled by the Czar with garrisons of stationary soldiers, to
protect the caravans and defend the country against the Tartars,
who would otherwise make it very dangerous travelling; and his
czarish majesty has given such strict orders for the well
guarding the caravans, that, if there are any Tartars heard of in
the country, detachments of the garrison are always sent to see
the travellers safe from station to station.&nbsp; Thus the
governor of Adinskoy, whom I had an opportunity to make a visit
to, by means of the Scots merchant, who was acquainted with him,
offered us a guard of fifty men, if we thought there was any
danger, to the next station.</p>
<p>I thought, long before this, that as we came nearer to Europe
we should find the country better inhabited, and the people more
civilised; but I found myself mistaken in both: for we had yet
the nation of the Tonguses to pass through, where we saw the same
tokens of paganism and barbarity as before; only, as they were
conquered by the Muscovites, they were not so dangerous, but for
rudeness of manners and idolatry no people in the world ever went
beyond them.&nbsp; They are all clothed in skins of beasts, and
their houses are built of the same; you know not a man from a
woman, neither by the ruggedness of their countenances nor their
clothes; and in the winter, when the ground is covered with snow,
they live underground in vaults, which have cavities going from
one to another.&nbsp; If the Tartars had their Cham Chi-Thaungu
for a whole village or country, these had idols in every hut and
every cave.&nbsp; This country, I reckon, was, from the desert I
spoke of last, at least four hundred miles, half of it being
another desert, which took us up twelve days&rsquo; severe
travelling, without house or tree; and we were obliged again to
carry our own provisions, as well water as bread.&nbsp; After we
were out of this desert and had travelled two days, we came to
Janezay, a Muscovite city or station, on the great river Janezay,
which, they told us there, parted Europe from Asia.</p>
<p>All the country between the river Oby and the river Janezay is
as entirely pagan, and the people as barbarous, as the remotest
of the Tartars.&nbsp; I also found, which I observed to the
Muscovite governors whom I had an opportunity to converse with,
that the poor pagans are not much wiser, or nearer Christianity,
for being under the Muscovite government, which they acknowledged
was true enough&mdash;but that, as they said, was none of their
business; that if the Czar expected to convert his Siberian,
Tonguse, or Tartar subjects, it should be done by sending
clergymen among them, not soldiers; and they added, with more
sincerity than I expected, that it was not so much the concern of
their monarch to make the people Christians as to make them
subjects.</p>
<p>From this river to the Oby we crossed a wild uncultivated
country, barren of people and good management, otherwise it is in
itself a pleasant, fruitful, and agreeable country.&nbsp; What
inhabitants we found in it are all pagans, except such as are
sent among them from Russia; for this is the country&mdash;I mean
on both sides the river Oby&mdash;whither the Muscovite criminals
that are not put to death are banished, and from whence it is
next to impossible they should ever get away.&nbsp; I have
nothing material to say of my particular affairs till I came to
Tobolski, the capital city of Siberia, where I continued some
time on the following account.</p>
<p>We had now been almost seven months on our journey, and winter
began to come on apace; whereupon my partner and I called a
council about our particular affairs, in which we found it
proper, as we were bound for England, to consider how to dispose
of ourselves.&nbsp; They told us of sledges and reindeer to carry
us over the snow in the winter time, by which means, indeed, the
Russians travel more in winter than they can in summer, as in
these sledges they are able to run night and day: the snow, being
frozen, is one universal covering to nature, by which the hills,
vales, rivers, and lakes are all smooth and hard is a stone, and
they run upon the surface, without any regard to what is
underneath.</p>
<p>But I had no occasion to urge a winter journey of this
kind.&nbsp; I was bound to England, not to Moscow, and my route
lay two ways: either I must go on as the caravan went, till I
came to Jarislaw, and then go off west for Narva and the Gulf of
Finland, and so on to Dantzic, where I might possibly sell my
China cargo to good advantage; or I must leave the caravan at a
little town on the Dwina, from whence I had but six days by water
to Archangel, and from thence might be sure of shipping either to
England, Holland, or Hamburg.</p>
<p>Now, to go any one of these journeys in the winter would have
been preposterous; for as to Dantzic, the Baltic would have been
frozen up and I could not get passage; and to go by land in those
countries was far less safe than among the Mogul Tartars;
likewise, as to Archangel in October, all the ships would be gone
from thence, and even the merchants who dwell there in summer
retire south to Moscow in the winter, when the ships are gone; so
that I could have nothing but extremity of cold to encounter,
with a scarcity of provisions, and must lie in an empty town all
the winter.&nbsp; Therefore, upon the whole, I thought it much my
better way to let the caravan go, and make provision to winter
where I was, at Tobolski, in Siberia, in the latitude of about
sixty degrees, where I was sure of three things to wear out a
cold winter with, viz. plenty of provisions, such as the country
afforded, a warm house, with fuel enough, and excellent
company.</p>
<p>I was now in quite a different climate from my beloved island,
where I never felt cold, except when I had my ague; on the
contrary, I had much to do to bear any clothes on my back, and
never made any fire but without doors, which was necessary for
dressing my food, &amp;c.&nbsp; Now I had three good vests, with
large robes or gowns over them, to hang down to the feet, and
button close to the wrists; and all these lined with furs, to
make them sufficiently warm.&nbsp; As to a warm house, I must
confess I greatly dislike our way in England of making fires in
every room of the house in open chimneys, which, when the fire is
out, always keeps the air in the room cold as the climate.&nbsp;
So I took an apartment in a good house in the town, and ordered a
chimney to be built like a furnace, in the centre of six several
rooms, like a stove; the funnel to carry the smoke went up one
way, the door to come at the fire went in another, and all the
rooms were kept equally warm, but no fire seen, just as they heat
baths in England.&nbsp; By this means we had always the same
climate in all the rooms, and an equal heat was preserved, and
yet we saw no fire, nor were ever incommoded with smoke.</p>
<p>The most wonderful thing of all was, that it should be
possible to meet with good company here, in a country so
barbarous as this&mdash;one of the most northerly parts of
Europe.&nbsp; But this being the country where the state
criminals of Muscovy, as I observed before, are all banished, the
city was full of Russian noblemen, gentlemen, soldiers, and
courtiers.&nbsp; Here was the famous Prince Galitzin, the old
German Robostiski, and several other persons of note, and some
ladies.&nbsp; By means of my Scotch merchant, whom, nevertheless,
I parted with here, I made an acquaintance with several of these
gentlemen; and from these, in the long winter nights in which I
stayed here, I received several very agreeable visits.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVI&mdash;SAFE ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND</h2>
<p>It was talking one night with a certain prince, one of the
banished ministers of state belonging to the Czar, that the
discourse of my particular case began.&nbsp; He had been telling
me abundance of fine things of the greatness, the magnificence,
the dominions, and the absolute power of the Emperor of the
Russians: I interrupted him, and told him I was a greater and
more powerful prince than ever the Czar was, though my dominion
were not so large, or my people so many.&nbsp; The Russian
grandee looked a little surprised, and, fixing his eyes steadily
upon me, began to wonder what I meant.&nbsp; I said his wonder
would cease when I had explained myself, and told him the story
at large of my living in the island; and then how I managed both
myself and the people that were under me, just as I have since
minuted it down.&nbsp; They were exceedingly taken with the
story, and especially the prince, who told me, with a sigh, that
the true greatness of life was to be masters of ourselves; that
he would not have exchanged such a state of life as mine to be
Czar of Muscovy; and that he found more felicity in the
retirement he seemed to be banished to there, than ever he found
in the highest authority he enjoyed in the court of his master
the Czar; that the height of human wisdom was to bring our
tempers down to our circumstances, and to make a calm within,
under the weight of the greatest storms without.&nbsp; When he
came first hither, he said, he used to tear the hair from his
head, and the clothes from his back, as others had done before
him; but a little time and consideration had made him look into
himself, as well as round him to things without; that he found
the mind of man, if it was but once brought to reflect upon the
state of universal life, and how little this world was concerned
in its true felicity, was perfectly capable of making a felicity
for itself, fully satisfying to itself, and suitable to its own
best ends and desires, with but very little assistance from the
world.&nbsp; That being now deprived of all the fancied felicity
which he enjoyed in the full exercise of worldly pleasures, he
said he was at leisure to look upon the dark side of them, where
he found all manner of deformity; and was now convinced that
virtue only makes a man truly wise, rich, and great, and
preserves him in the way to a superior happiness in a future
state; and in this, he said, they were more happy in their
banishment than all their enemies were, who had the full
possession of all the wealth and power they had left behind
them.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nor, sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;do I bring my
mind to this politically, from the necessity of my circumstances,
which some call miserable; but, if I know anything of myself, I
would not now go back, though the Czar my master should call me,
and reinstate me in all my former grandeur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>He spoke this with so much warmth in his temper, so much
earnestness and motion of his spirits, that it was evident it was
the true sense of his soul; there was no room to doubt his
sincerity.&nbsp; I told him I once thought myself a kind of
monarch in my old station, of which I had given him an account;
but that I thought he was not only a monarch, but a great
conqueror; for he that had got a victory over his own exorbitant
desires, and the absolute dominion over himself, he whose reason
entirely governs his will, is certainly greater than he that
conquers a city.</p>
<p>I had been here eight months, and a dark, dreadful winter I
thought it; the cold so intense that I could not so much as look
abroad without being wrapped in furs, and a kind of mask of fur
before my face, with only a hole for breath, and two for sight:
the little daylight we had was for three months not above five
hours a day, and six at most; only that the snow lying on the
ground continually, and the weather being clear, it was never
quite dark.&nbsp; Our horses were kept, or rather starved,
underground; and as for our servants, whom we hired here to look
after ourselves and horses, we had, every now and then, their
fingers and toes to thaw and take care of, lest they should
mortify and fall off.</p>
<p>It is true, within doors we were warm, the houses being close,
the walls thick, the windows small, and the glass all
double.&nbsp; Our food was chiefly the flesh of deer, dried and
cured in the season; bread good enough, but baked as biscuits;
dried fish of several sorts, and some flesh of mutton, and of
buffaloes, which is pretty good meat.&nbsp; All the stores of
provisions for the winter are laid up in the summer, and well
cured: our drink was water, mixed with aqua vitae instead of
brandy; and for a treat, mead instead of wine, which, however,
they have very good.&nbsp; The hunters, who venture abroad all
weathers, frequently brought us in fine venison, and sometimes
bear&rsquo;s flesh, but we did not much care for the last.&nbsp;
We had a good stock of tea, with which we treated our friends,
and we lived cheerfully and well, all things considered.</p>
<p>It was now March, the days grown considerably longer, and the
weather at least tolerable; so the other travellers began to
prepare sledges to carry them over the snow, and to get things
ready to be going; but my measures being fixed, as I have said,
for Archangel, and not for Muscovy or the Baltic, I made no
motion; knowing very well that the ships from the south do not
set out for that part of the world till May or June, and that if
I was there by the beginning of August, it would be as soon as
any ships would be ready to sail.&nbsp; Therefore I made no haste
to be gone, as others did: in a word, I saw a great many people,
nay, all the travellers, go away before me.&nbsp; It seems every
year they go from thence to Muscovy, for trade, to carry furs,
and buy necessaries, which they bring back with them to furnish
their shops: also others went on the same errand to
Archangel.</p>
<p>In the month of May I began to make all ready to pack up; and,
as I was doing this, it occurred to me that, seeing all these
people were banished by the Czar to Siberia, and yet, when they
came there, were left at liberty to go whither they would, why
they did not then go away to any part of the world, wherever they
thought fit: and I began to examine what should hinder them from
making such an attempt.&nbsp; But my wonder was over when I
entered upon that subject with the person I have mentioned, who
answered me thus: &ldquo;Consider, first, sir,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;the place where we are; and, secondly, the condition we
are in; especially the generality of the people who are banished
thither.&nbsp; We are surrounded with stronger things than bars
or bolts; on the north side, an unnavigable ocean, where ship
never sailed, and boat never swam; every other way we have above
a thousand miles to pass through the Czar&rsquo;s own dominion,
and by ways utterly impassable, except by the roads made by the
government, and through the towns garrisoned by his troops; in
short, we could neither pass undiscovered by the road, nor
subsist any other way, so that it is in vain to attempt
it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I was silenced at once, and found that they were in a prison
every jot as secure as if they had been locked up in the castle
at Moscow: however, it came into my thoughts that I might
certainly be made an instrument to procure the escape of this
excellent person; and that, whatever hazard I ran, I would
certainly try if I could carry him off.&nbsp; Upon this, I took
an occasion one evening to tell him my thoughts.&nbsp; I
represented to him that it was very easy for me to carry him
away, there being no guard over him in the country; and as I was
not going to Moscow, but to Archangel, and that I went in the
retinue of a caravan, by which I was not obliged to lie in the
stationary towns in the desert, but could encamp every night
where I would, we might easily pass uninterrupted to Archangel,
where I would immediately secure him on board an English ship,
and carry him safe along with me; and as to his subsistence and
other particulars, it should be my care till he could better
supply himself.</p>
<p>He heard me very attentively, and looked earnestly on me all
the while I spoke; nay, I could see in his very face that what I
said put his spirits into an exceeding ferment; his colour
frequently changed, his eyes looked red, and his heart fluttered,
till it might be even perceived in his countenance; nor could he
immediately answer me when I had done, and, as it were, hesitated
what he would say to it; but after he had paused a little, he
embraced me, and said, &ldquo;How unhappy are we, unguarded
creatures as we are, that even our greatest acts of friendship
are made snares unto us, and we are made tempters of one
another!&rdquo;&nbsp; He then heartily thanked me for my offers
of service, but withstood resolutely the arguments I used to urge
him to set himself free.&nbsp; He declared, in earnest terms,
that he was fully bent on remaining where he was rather than seek
to return to his former miserable greatness, as he called it:
where the seeds of pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury might
revive, take root, and again overwhelm him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let me
remain, dear sir,&rdquo; he said, in conclusion&mdash;&ldquo;let
me remain in this blessed confinement, banished from the crimes
of life, rather than purchase a show of freedom at the expense of
the liberty of my reason, and at the future happiness which I now
have in my view, but should then, I fear, quickly lose sight of;
for I am but flesh; a man, a mere man; and have passions and
affections as likely to possess and overthrow me as any man: Oh,
be not my friend and tempter both together!&rdquo;</p>
<p>If I was surprised before, I was quite dumb now, and stood
silent, looking at him, and, indeed, admiring what I saw.&nbsp;
The struggle in his soul was so great that, though the weather
was extremely cold, it put him into a most violent heat; so I
said a word or two, that I would leave him to consider of it, and
wait on him again, and then I withdrew to my own apartment.</p>
<p>About two hours after I heard somebody at or near the door of
my room, and I was going to open the door, but he had opened it
and come in.&nbsp; &ldquo;My dear friend,&rdquo; says he,
&ldquo;you had almost overset me, but I am recovered.&nbsp; Do
not take it ill that I do not close with your offer.&nbsp; I
assure you it is not for want of sense of the kindness of it in
you; and I came to make the most sincere acknowledgment of it to
you; but I hope I have got the victory over
myself.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;My lord,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;I hope
you are fully satisfied that you do not resist the call of
Heaven.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if it had
been from Heaven, the same power would have influenced me to have
accepted it; but I hope, and am fully satisfied, that it is from
Heaven that I decline it, and I have infinite satisfaction in the
parting, that you shall leave me an honest man still, though not
a free man.&rdquo;</p>
<p>I had nothing to do but to acquiesce, and make professions to
him of my having no end in it but a sincere desire to serve
him.&nbsp; He embraced me very passionately, and assured me he
was sensible of that, and should always acknowledge it; and with
that he offered me a very fine present of sables&mdash;too much,
indeed, for me to accept from a man in his circumstances, and I
would have avoided them, but he would not be refused.&nbsp; The
next morning I sent my servant to his lordship with a small
present of tea, and two pieces of China damask, and four little
wedges of Japan gold, which did not all weigh above six ounces or
thereabouts, but were far short of the value of his sables,
which, when I came to England, I found worth near two hundred
pounds.&nbsp; He accepted the tea, and one piece of the damask,
and one of the pieces of gold, which had a fine stamp upon it, of
the Japan coinage, which I found he took for the rarity of it,
but would not take any more: and he sent word by my servant that
he desired to speak with me.</p>
<p>When I came to him he told me I knew what had passed between
us, and hoped I would not move him any more in that affair; but
that, since I had made such a generous offer to him, he asked me
if I had kindness enough to offer the same to another person that
he would name to me, in whom he had a great share of
concern.&nbsp; In a word, he told me it was his only son; who,
though I had not seen him, was in the same condition with
himself, and above two hundred miles from him, on the other side
of the Oby; but that, if I consented, he would send for him.</p>
<p>I made no hesitation, but told him I would do it.&nbsp; I made
some ceremony in letting him understand that it was wholly on his
account; and that, seeing I could not prevail on him, I would
show my respect to him by my concern for his son.&nbsp; He sent
the next day for his son; and in about twenty days he came back
with the messenger, bringing six or seven horses, loaded with
very rich furs, which, in the whole, amounted to a very great
value.&nbsp; His servants brought the horses into the town, but
left the young lord at a distance till night, when he came
incognito into our apartment, and his father presented him to me;
and, in short, we concerted the manner of our travelling, and
everything proper for the journey.</p>
<p>I had bought a considerable quantity of sables, black
fox-skins, fine ermines, and such other furs as are very rich in
that city, in exchange for some of the goods I had brought from
China; in particular for the cloves and nutmegs, of which I sold
the greatest part here, and the rest afterwards at Archangel, for
a much better price than I could have got at London; and my
partner, who was sensible of the profit, and whose business, more
particularly than mine, was merchandise, was mightily pleased
with our stay, on account of the traffic we made here.</p>
<p>It was the beginning of June when I left this remote
place.&nbsp; We were now reduced to a very small caravan, having
only thirty-two horses and camels in all, which passed for mine,
though my new guest was proprietor of eleven of them.&nbsp; It
was natural also that I should take more servants with me than I
had before; and the young lord passed for my steward; what great
man I passed for myself I know not, neither did it concern me to
inquire.&nbsp; We had here the worst and the largest desert to
pass over that we met with in our whole journey; I call it the
worst, because the way was very deep in some places, and very
uneven in others; the best we had to say for it was, that we
thought we had no troops of Tartars or robbers to fear, as they
never came on this side of the river Oby, or at least very
seldom; but we found it otherwise.</p>
<p>My young lord had a faithful Siberian servant, who was
perfectly acquainted with the country, and led us by private
roads, so that we avoided coming into the principal towns and
cities upon the great road, such as Tumen, Soloy Kamaskoy, and
several others; because the Muscovite garrisons which are kept
there are very curious and strict in their observation upon
travellers, and searching lest any of the banished persons of
note should make their escape that way into Muscovy; but, by this
means, as we were kept out of the cities, so our whole journey
was a desert, and we were obliged to encamp and lie in our tents,
when we might have had very good accommodation in the cities on
the way; this the young lord was so sensible of, that he would
not allow us to lie abroad when we came to several cities on the
way, but lay abroad himself, with his servant, in the woods, and
met us always at the appointed places.</p>
<p>We had just entered Europe, having passed the river Kama,
which in these parts is the boundary between Europe and Asia, and
the first city on the European side was called Soloy Kamaskoy,
that is, the great city on the river Kama.&nbsp; And here we
thought to see some evident alteration in the people; but we were
mistaken, for as we had a vast desert to pass, which is near
seven hundred miles long in some places, but not above two
hundred miles over where we passed it, so, till we came past that
horrible place, we found very little difference between that
country and Mogul Tartary.&nbsp; The people are mostly pagans;
their houses and towns full of idols; and their way of living
wholly barbarous, except in the cities and villages near them,
where they are Christians, as they call themselves, of the Greek
Church: but have their religion mingled with so many relics of
superstition, that it is scarce to be known in some places from
mere sorcery and witchcraft.</p>
<p>In passing this forest (after all our dangers were, to our
imagination, escaped), I thought, indeed, we must have been
plundered and robbed, and perhaps murdered, by a troop of
thieves: of what country they were I am yet at a loss to know;
but they were all on horseback, carried bows and arrows, and were
at first about forty-five in number.&nbsp; They came so near to
us as to be within two musket-shot, and, asking no questions,
surrounded us with their horses, and looked very earnestly upon
us twice; at length, they placed themselves just in our way; upon
which we drew up in a little line, before our camels, being not
above sixteen men in all.&nbsp; Thus drawn up, we halted, and
sent out the Siberian servant, who attended his lord, to see who
they were; his master was the more willing to let him go, because
he was not a little apprehensive that they were a Siberian troop
sent out after him.&nbsp; The man came up near them with a flag
of truce, and called to them; but though he spoke several of
their languages, or dialects of languages rather, he could not
understand a word they said; however, after some signs to him not
to come near them at his peril, the fellow came back no wiser
than he went; only that by their dress, he said, he believed them
to be some Tartars of Kalmuck, or of the Circassian hordes, and
that there must be more of them upon the great desert, though he
never heard that any of them were seen so far north before.</p>
<p>This was small comfort to us; however, we had no remedy: there
was on our left hand, at about a quarter of a mile distance, a
little grove, and very near the road.&nbsp; I immediately
resolved we should advance to those trees, and fortify ourselves
as well as we could there; for, first, I considered that the
trees would in a great measure cover us from their arrows; and,
in the next place, they could not come to charge us in a body: it
was, indeed, my old Portuguese pilot who proposed it, and who had
this excellency attending him, that he was always readiest and
most apt to direct and encourage us in cases of the most
danger.&nbsp; We advanced immediately, with what speed we could,
and gained that little wood; the Tartars, or thieves, for we knew
not what to call them, keeping their stand, and not attempting to
hinder us.&nbsp; When we came thither, we found, to our great
satisfaction, that it was a swampy piece of ground, and on the
one side a very great spring of water, which, running out in a
little brook, was a little farther joined by another of the like
size; and was, in short, the source of a considerable river,
called afterwards the Wirtska; the trees which grew about this
spring were not above two hundred, but very large, and stood
pretty thick, so that as soon as we got in, we saw ourselves
perfectly safe from the enemy unless they attacked us on
foot.</p>
<p>While we stayed here waiting the motion of the enemy some
hours, without perceiving that they made any movement, our
Portuguese, with some help, cut several arms of trees half off,
and laid them hanging across from one tree to another, and in a
manner fenced us in.&nbsp; About two hours before night they came
down directly upon us; and though we had not perceived it, we
found they had been joined by some more, so that they were near
fourscore horse; whereof, however, we fancied some were
women.&nbsp; They came on till they were within half-shot of our
little wood, when we fired one musket without ball, and called to
them in the Russian tongue to know what they wanted, and bade
them keep off; but they came on with a double fury up to the
wood-side, not imagining we were so barricaded that they could
not easily break in.&nbsp; Our old pilot was our captain as well
as our engineer, and desired us not to fire upon them till they
came within pistol-shot, that we might be sure to kill, and that
when we did fire we should be sure to take good aim; we bade him
give the word of command, which he delayed so long that they were
some of them within two pikes&rsquo; length of us when we let
fly.&nbsp; We aimed so true that we killed fourteen of them, and
wounded several others, as also several of their horses; for we
had all of us loaded our pieces with two or three bullets apiece
at least.</p>
<p>They were terribly surprised with our fire, and retreated
immediately about one hundred rods from us; in which time we
loaded our pieces again, and seeing them keep that distance, we
sallied out, and caught four or five of their horses, whose
riders we supposed were killed; and coming up to the dead, we
judged they were Tartars, but knew not how they came to make an
excursion such an unusual length.</p>
<p>About an hour after they again made a motion to attack us, and
rode round our little wood to see where they might break in; but
finding us always ready to face them, they went off again; and we
resolved not to stir for that night.</p>
<p>We slept little, but spent the most part of the night in
strengthening our situation, and barricading the entrances into
the wood, and keeping a strict watch.&nbsp; We waited for
daylight, and when it came, it gave us a very unwelcome discovery
indeed; for the enemy, who we thought were discouraged with the
reception they met with, were now greatly increased, and had set
up eleven or twelve huts or tents, as if they were resolved to
besiege us; and this little camp they had pitched upon the open
plain, about three-quarters of a mile from us.&nbsp; I confess I
now gave myself over for lost, and all that I had; the loss of my
effects did not lie so near me, though very considerable, as the
thoughts of falling into the hands of such barbarians at the
latter end of my journey, after so many difficulties and hazards
as I had gone through, and even in sight of our port, where we
expected safety and deliverance.&nbsp; As to my partner, he was
raging, and declared that to lose his goods would be his ruin,
and that he would rather die than be starved, and he was for
fighting to the last drop.</p>
<p>The young lord, a most gallant youth, was for fighting to the
last also; and my old pilot was of opinion that we were able to
resist them all in the situation we were then in.&nbsp; Thus we
spent the day in debates of what we should do; but towards
evening we found that the number of our enemies still increased,
and we did not know but by the morning they might still be a
greater number: so I began to inquire of those people we had
brought from Tobolski if there were no private ways by which we
might avoid them in the night, and perhaps retreat to some town,
or get help to guard us over the desert.&nbsp; The young
lord&rsquo;s Siberian servant told us, if we designed to avoid
them, and not fight, he would engage to carry us off in the
night, to a way that went north, towards the river Petruz, by
which he made no question but we might get away, and the Tartars
never discover it; but, he said, his lord had told him he would
not retreat, but would rather choose to fight.&nbsp; I told him
he mistook his lord: for that he was too wise a man to love
fighting for the sake of it; that I knew he was brave enough by
what he had showed already; but that he knew better than to
desire seventeen or eighteen men to fight five hundred, unless an
unavoidable necessity forced them to it; and that if he thought
it possible for us to escape in the night, we had nothing else to
do but to attempt it.&nbsp; He answered, if his lordship gave him
such orders, he would lose his life if he did not perform it; we
soon brought his lord to give that order, though privately, and
we immediately prepared for putting it in practice.</p>
<p>And first, as soon as it began to be dark, we kindled a fire
in our little camp, which we kept burning, and prepared so as to
make it burn all night, that the Tartars might conclude we were
still there; but as soon as it was dark, and we could see the
stars (for our guide would not stir before), having all our
horses and camels ready loaded, we followed our new guide, who I
soon found steered himself by the north star, the country being
level for a long way.</p>
<p>After we had travelled two hours very hard, it began to be
lighter still; not that it was dark all night, but the moon began
to rise, so that, in short, it was rather lighter than we wished
it to be; but by six o&rsquo;clock the next morning we had got
above thirty miles, having almost spoiled our horses.&nbsp; Here
we found a Russian village, named Kermazinskoy, where we rested,
and heard nothing of the Kalmuck Tartars that day.&nbsp; About
two hours before night we set out again, and travelled till eight
the next morning, though not quite so hard as before; and about
seven o&rsquo;clock we passed a little river, called Kirtza, and
came to a good large town inhabited by Russians, called Ozomys;
there we heard that several troops of Kalmucks had been abroad
upon the desert, but that we were now completely out of danger of
them, which was to our great satisfaction.&nbsp; Here we were
obliged to get some fresh horses, and having need enough of rest,
we stayed five days; and my partner and I agreed to give the
honest Siberian who conducted us thither the value of ten
pistoles.</p>
<p>In five days more we came to Veussima, upon the river
Witzogda, and running into the Dwina: we were there, very
happily, near the end of our travels by land, that river being
navigable, in seven days&rsquo; passage, to Archangel.&nbsp; From
hence we came to Lawremskoy, the 3rd of July; and providing
ourselves with two luggage boats, and a barge for our own
convenience, we embarked the 7th, and arrived all safe at
Archangel the 18th; having been a year, five months, and three
days on the journey, including our stay of about eight months at
Tobolski.</p>
<p>We were obliged to stay at this place six weeks for the
arrival of the ships, and must have tarried longer, had not a
Hamburgher come in above a month sooner than any of the English
ships; when, after some consideration that the city of Hamburgh
might happen to be as good a market for our goods as London, we
all took freight with him; and, having put our goods on board, it
was most natural for me to put my steward on board to take care
of them; by which means my young lord had a sufficient
opportunity to conceal himself, never coming on shore again all
the time we stayed there; and this he did that he might not be
seen in the city, where some of the Moscow merchants would
certainly have seen and discovered him.</p>
<p>We then set sail from Archangel the 20th of August, the same
year; and, after no extraordinary bad voyage, arrived safe in the
Elbe the 18th of September.&nbsp; Here my partner and I found a
very good sale for our goods, as well those of China as the
sables, &amp;c., of Siberia: and, dividing the produce, my share
amounted to &pound;3475, 17s 3d., including about six hundred
pounds&rsquo; worth of diamonds, which I purchased at Bengal.</p>
<p>Here the young lord took his leave of us, and went up the
Elbe, in order to go to the court of Vienna, where he resolved to
seek protection and could correspond with those of his
father&rsquo;s friends who were left alive.&nbsp; He did not part
without testimonials of gratitude for the service I had done him,
and for my kindness to the prince, his father.</p>
<p>To conclude: having stayed near four months in Hamburgh, I
came from thence by land to the Hague, where I embarked in the
packet, and arrived in London the 10th of January 1705, having
been absent from England ten years and nine months.&nbsp; And
here, resolving to harass myself no more, I am preparing for a
longer journey than all these, having lived seventy-two years a
life of infinite variety, and learned sufficiently to know the
value of retirement, and the blessing of ending our days in
peace.</p>
<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE***</p>
<pre>


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