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<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 be 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>
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